#Touched!Quinn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

icallhimjoey · 7 months

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massage enthusiast nonnie here!

i requested a massage fic earlier this year which you wrote wonderfully! may we please have a massage fic where the reader is the masseuse?

back at it again with the massages !!!! so, i coupled this with two other requests: one about joe being grumpy and us fixing it, and one about joe being gooey drunk in love with us - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 2.1K

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Touch

The huffs and puffs, groans and frustrated sighs coming from the sofa were dramatic enough to make you chuckle to yourself as you took off your make-up in the bathroom.

The sounds of struggle followed by two soft thuds told you Joe had worked his way out of his shoes.

A silence followed. You pried mascara goop from the inner corner of your eyes with careful fingers when you suddenly heard a soft and annoyed, "I'm getting so old," before a louder, "Babe, come listen to this!"

Joe was in a mood.

Had been since dinner. He'd eaten too much too quickly, as had you, and fell into postprandial somnolence, or, you know, a fat after-dinner dip.

Amusement was evident on your face when you stepped into the living room, turning lights off and closing doors behind you as you went.

"This is mad," Joe muttered, and you saw him hunched in a weird position, very slowly moving his elbow up and down, in and out. His eyes found you, face all serious, and he said, "I can hear my bones creak."

You burst into laughter as you walked over, quite honestly excited for an hour or two of sofa time before you'd both roll into bed. Joe was wearing a jumper and, man, this guy in cosy soft fabrics hit different.

"I'm not joking, come, listen,"

You let yourself fall down right next to him and stilled so Joe could show you.

He kept moving his arm in the same way, and, sure enough, you heard very soft squeaking. Sounded a little like someone was polishing glass.

"Does that hurt?"

"No," Joe shrugged, finally moving, grabbing the TV remote and immediately cosying up to you as you reached for a blanket.

"Come here,"

"Oh babe, don't," you flinched whilst settling, startling Joe who was already crabby enough to take everything as a direct personal attack.

His facial expression was nothing short of a shocked frown. Defensive. Cross. A what-have-I-done-now mixed with I-didn't-do-anything sort of look. Angry at even the mere hint of an accusation of hurting you.

"My food baby."

No pressure on the stomach, is what you meant.

Joe huffed, annoyed his arm couldn't go where he wanted it to rest. He tried different spots; laid over your lap – no, around your shoulders – no. He settled for across your boobs, big palm covering one of them.

"Yea?" you questioned, looking down at yourself, unable to keep the smile from your face. "That comfortable for you?"

"No," he muttered, clearling lying, as you felt him sinking into your side more. "But these need safe-keeping, wait– take off your bra, this is an important job. Needs proper doing."

To say Joe helped you struggle out of your bra would be an overstatement. He used a tired arm behind you as you sat up, but didn't really do anything until you pulled your bra from underneath your top.

Before you relaxed back into the sofa, a hand snuck under your top and got back into its previous position.

"How are you so tired?" you commented on the back of a laugh. "You barely did anything at all today..."

You saw Joe's eyes flash up to check the clock before he groaned loudly. It was only just past 9.

"I'm getting old," he complained. "It's no fun. I can no longer have big carb-y meals, my bones make noise now. I don't– mmhm," you shut Joe up by slinking a hand into his hair, giving little scratches behind his ear.

Joe was easy that way. Like a puppy, immediately content when getting scritches.

"What are we watching?" you asked, shifting focus.

You got no answer. Just satisfied hums.

"Hmm?" you asked again, now taking the remote Joe was about to drop to take matters into your own hands.

Joe sighed deeply, murmured, "Mmmh, my eyes are closed, you choose,"

Perfect. You found something quick enough and were quick to also put your other hand to good use. To touch. If anything was going to get Joe out of his solemn mood, it was to touch and to be touched.

"Don't fall asleep on me," you whispered, and only got soft hums in return. "It's only just gone 9, you'll wake up at 4 and won't be able to get back to sleep,"

"But I'm tired," Joe muttered, his full body now sagged into your side, warm hand still cupping a boob. "I told you I am old now. This is what old people do."

"You're 29."

"Exactly."

Joe shifted, getting more comfortable, pressing his face into your arm and nuzzling there before a deep breath crooned on the exhale.

You stayed like that for a little while. Joe on a fast track into dreamland, you with one hand in his hair and the other softly playing with the cable knit on the bit of arm that wasn't hidden underneath your top.

After a bit, his hair distracted you enough to stop paying attention to whatever you'd put on the TV.

You let Joe's hair play between your fingers, felt how it was softer near his scalp, where it held less product, and enjoyed the way the curls sprung back into their curves after you straightened them in your raking.

"Your hair's too short," you knew Joe would barely hear you. "Should let the top grow out again," you used the pads of your fingers to swipe the hair from his forehead and softly pushed it back. Because of the current length, his hair stood up straight and you tried repressing a giggle at how silly it looked.

"Hmmpf," Joe grunted, moved his head slightly. A feeble attempt at stopping you. It was of no use. You kept playing, shaping little strands in whichever way you wanted.

You felt how Joe's fingers twitched under your top. Squeezed you. Made you giggle more and bend to press a kiss into his hair.

You felt it returned on your arm.

You watched TV and absentmindedly played with Joe's hair until you felt yourself starting to drift off as well.

Time for bed.

You moved to sit up and it made Joe slump down the back of the sofa behind you.

"Come on," you had to clear your throat to get the words out normally. "Let's go to bed."

You got struggling groans and a furrowed brow as an answer. You would've said something about it, but usually, this was what you were like. You fell asleep on Joe all the time. He got tasked with getting you from the sofa into bed several times a week, and that was never easy. Real piece of work, you were.

Joe was allowed to act like a stroppy teenager this one time.

You got up and took both his hands in yours to pull him off the sofa. It made Joe find his feet, eyes squinty but open, but he didn't move otherwise. You were tugging on dead weight, he did nothing to help, so you pulled harder, two relaxed hands in your squeezing ones, until you heard a soft pop.

"Ohhh," Joe immediately reacted, sitting up properly now, pain visible on his face.

"My God, was that your shoulder?"

It was. Joe reached for it with his other hand and rotated where it hurt.

"See, I told you. My age it catching up to me."

"Shut up," you smiled, watching Joe yawn and stretch, hearing his spine crack next, and you both laughed as you heard it.

"I'm falling apart."

"Well, come to bed. Fall apart in there, you'll have a soft landing."

You turned the TV off and were already on your way. Joe followed suit, hips stiff, muttering about maybe having to start going to a physiotherapist or a sports masseur. Like he was a pro athlete.

So dramatic.

Before getting into bed, Joe did some old man stretches by his side of the bed just after he took his clothes off, just in his boxers now.

He complained some more. Groaned and huffed and winced until you sighed and said, "You're all mumbles and murmurs, ask what you want like a normal person. You're an adult."

"Mmmbackrub," Joe said under his breath as he let himself fall onto the bed face first right next to you.

"What was that?"

"Want a backrub," Joe said it in such a whiny baby voice, it made you roll your eyes as you saw him tuck his chin in and look up at you, half his face hidden by the pillow.

"Pwease?"

The purest definition of puppy eyes begged you to touch him.

"You," you started, voice loud and as thunderous as you could make it sound whilst you threw the covers back. "Best recognise..." you slung a leg over Joe's bum, "...that you have the most amazing girlfriend..." and you sat down, "...ever!".

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to heat them up a bit, knowing it wouldn't do enough. They'd still feel cold to Joe's back, but he asked for a backrub and so, he was going to get one.

You were tired, had nearly fallen asleep yourself just mere minutes ago, but you knew Joe'd be out cold within seconds.

Now, it was one thing running your hands through his hair and hearing him hum. It was a whole other thing to run your palms over his back, fingers curled, nails scratching warm soft skin, and to feel him shudder from your touch.

You loved how responsive he was, muscles twitching as you went, voice audible through every exhale in gentle satisfied purrs and buzzes.

There were no knots to be found. Nothing felt hard or strained or tensed or stiff. Solid and firm, yes, but soft, kneadable and pliable under your touch.

You rubbed between his shoulder blades, one hand following the other, stroking upwards several times until you let fingers venture upwards towards his neck before they parted and found both his biceps.

Sometimes you let fingernails scrape a little and got soft moans out of him.

You let your hands follow the lines of his torso, from his wider shoulders down his sides to his slimmer waist and hips. All the way down and then back up again.

It was hardly an actual massage. More just stroking hands, able to apply more pressure when your arms were closer to you because then you could lean into them more. His lower back got the fists that pushed, this upper back soft fingertips that tickled and made him shiver, skin breaking out into goosebumps.

After a while Joe moved his arms down and found your legs to hold onto by his sides, folded his hands over the crease between your thighs and calves, fingers fighting to sneak inbetween.

"Best girl–" Joe cut himself off with a moan that got stuck in his throat, your hands making magic happen, having it dance all across his back. "Most amazing girlfriend."

"Hmmhm," you agreed.

It took maybe five minutes of touching warm skin and letting fingers trail for you to suspect Joe'd fallen asleep.

Good.

You really were an amazing girlfriend. Lulled your mopey boyfriend right to sleep whilst sat on his ass. He was already practically half asleep before you'd even started, but that was easy to ignore.

You were about to climb off and roll onto your half of the bed when you felt Joe's hands tighten where they had a hold on you still.

"Lay down," Joe said, barely even a whisper, the least amount of effort put into shaping the words.

"Huh?"

"On top,"

You looked down at the back of his head, face squished into his pillow and hated how, even now in this state, he was able to make everything inside your chest swell until it hurt.

Grinning like an idiot, you reached behind you to find the covers to pull over your shoulders. The delay in doing what Joe asked of you got you a little impatient wiggle from his hips that made you huff a laugh as you lowered yourself down and draped yourself over him.

You shifted and shimmied until you were comfortable, sneaking an arm around, finding warmth in the gap below his neck.

Joe was warm, unwound, and full of sleep. Wanted your weight on top of him to fully drift off.

If being moody and irritable and grouchy ended with Joe wanting to just every inch of you all over every inch of him, he could be crabby and bad-tempered and tetchy with your full permission.

All you had to do was touch.

Your touch always fixed it.

the end

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The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

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