Free Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel by Drew Zachary Page A

laughed, the sound almost surprised. “It doesn’t have to be new-agey to relax you.”
    “I don’t really use music to relax.” That’s what TV was for. “But you can poke around and see what’s on the computer or on the shelf.” He pointed to the CDs by his father’s stereo.
    “No, this is for you, and if music isn’t going to be relaxing, there’s no point. What do you use music for?” Neil’s hands landed on his shoulders, then slid away again. “Let’s get the T-shirt off first.”
    “Dancing.” Kit peeled his T-shirt off and tossed it on the couch. “Cleaning the house. That’s about it, really.”
    “Huh.” Neil’s hands landed on his shoulders again. They were still for a moment, warm and nice. Then the massage started, and nice didn’t even begin to cover it.
    “Oh...” Kit didn’t try to keep the sound inside. His head fell forward and he closed his eyes. “What do you use music for?”
    “Relaxing, something to listen to when it’s otherwise quiet. Company, I guess, in a lot of ways.”
    Kit thought about that. “I like quiet, mostly. Sometimes it gets heavy, though, and starts to drive me crazy. I suppose when I lived on my own I had the TV on a lot for company, maybe.”
    “I’m not a huge fan of TV. I find I get to watching, and before I know it, I’ve wasted a whole bunch of time.” Neil’s fingers worked on a particularly tender bit of muscle.
    “I have more time now than I did.” Kit angled his head to give Neil room, another sound escaping. “When I was... before the accident, I didn’t watch a lot. Now I have actual shows I follow.” Some were better than others, Kit knew, but he did have his favorites.
    “Yeah?” Neil chuckled and then made a soothing noise as the muscle popped audibly, the pain intense for a second before fading away to nothing.
    “Oh God.” Kit’s eyes flew open. “Nice.” He settled again and nodded. “I like all those cop shows. I might be missing one or two -- and I’m a decade behind on a couple -- but I like them.”
    “I like mystery novels.” Neil moved on to another trouble spot, this one lower down.
    Kit leaned forward, draping himself over his legs. “Old ones or new ones? Like, Agatha Christie stuff or James Patterson?”
    “Yes. Seriously, I love them all. I love the grittiness of the modern stuff and the order of the old stuff. I enjoy the new characters and love revisiting favorite detectives like Holmes or Marple.”
    “Holmes is good. I’ve read all of those.” Kit had a sudden image of Neil curled up under a blanket on a couch somewhere, lost in a book. He liked it. “Little lower, please.”
    Neil’s hands moved down obligingly, finding a new knot of muscles. God, the guy’s hands were like magic.
    “Oh, yes. There.” Kit nodded and gave up a little moan. “Harder.”
    “Like this?” Neil’s voice had gone a little husky, but those fingers didn’t give up the job.
    “Uh-huh.” Kit smiled to himself. That was more like it. He even had plausible deniability if he needed it. It was just a massage. “Just like that. So good.” He also had the start of a hard on, but that was okay by him.
    He could hear Neil’s breathing get heavier as the man worked along his spine.
    “Oh yes,” Kit whispered. “Deeper.” His imagination started to take off against his actual intent. Neil had amazing hands and knew what to do with them.
    Neil didn’t say anything, but the massage went deeper, demanding that his muscles relax, give way. Kit groaned and sank all the way onto his legs. He wished he was lying down, that there was a bed under them. He tried to gather his thoughts so Neil wouldn’t know how far gone he really was, but Neil’s hands kept sweeping good intentions away. “You’re really good at this,” he managed to say, his voice a little croaky.
    Neil’s hands stilled for a moment. “Yeah? You sure you’re okay?”
    “Oh, yes. Very okay. Don’t stop.”
    Neil’s chuckle was as husky as his