Caudle was seated on the edge of a table that normally stood around his waist height, looking not quite himself if one was only familiar with the bat when he was working. His trademark glasses were set on a shelf in the nook, along with his cap. Rather than his button-down shirt and bowtie, he wore a loose shirt with no sleeves. The fabric was a faint tan and it looked as though it had been stretched habitually between washings. And rather than his trousers held up with suspenders, he wore a pair of comfy work-out shorts.
This was his 'don't mind if it gets dirty' type outfit.
Hershel stood on the other side of the book nook, the dragon's tail repeatedly slithering back on itself tightly enough that the supple scales on the underside slid against one another. The bend in the girthy limb traversed from near the base to his spade repeatedly, carrying the plump roll of that bulk contorting so sharply along with it.
The dragon pulled his customary sweater off, carefully pulling it past his horns. He set the pullover aside, leaving himself in just the scrub pants from his day job and a tautly snug undershirt of his own.
Caudle's attention drifted up for a moment from the fidgeting motions of his boyfriend's tail to his back. Normally, his choice to wear sweaters hid his musculature, even more than the plumpness that a sedentary lifestyle with a sweet tooth did. But his draconic heritage meant that he was doomed to be strong no matter what he did. Momentarily the bat mused on just where Hershel's wings fit into his frame when they were absent... Of course, it was magic and shapeshifting, two subjects that the chiropteran was familiar with himself.
However, he pictured just where the sixth and seventh limb would emerge from... probably just beneath the shoulder-blades. Usually, the dragon had his wings already exposed when Caudle saw him, each time his wings had been in play, so he'd never seen the transition.
Hershel pivoted, lightly averting his eyes as he held out a bottle. "If you please, could you lay a line of this along the side of the table before you lay down?" As a dragon, he could withstand the naturally enthralling nature of his boyfriend's naked gaze for longer than most, but in the past he'd let himself keep eye contact long enough to feel the effects.
The bat perked, and took the bottle, noting the label: massage oil. He blushed softly. Of course, he hadn't thought of that when he'd requested a massage. And the instruction made the intended method of application clear. "Alright..." He shifted, putting one knee up on the tabletop as he pivoted. He popped open the cap and drizzled a bead-breadth line as he was instructed. Halfway through, he had to pause and scoot the rest of the way up onto the table to reach. Capping the bottle, he set it on the opposite corner from the line.
When Caudle turned back to face his boyfriend, he found that the dragon had positioned himself at the head of the table, facing away. His position highlighted that from their height difference the tabletop came just up to the underside of the accessorizing region supporting his massive tail, framing the view perfectly.
Turning his head to peek over one shoulder, Hershel chuckled. "Lay down if you're ready. Whichever way you prefer."
Blush still held on his cheeks, the bat pivoted on his hips, laying down on the table so that his tall ears rested just at the edge nearest the dragon. It had taken quite some time for him to feel comfortable enough around Hershel to be this... well... shameless... but no one had to know but Hershel and the bookshop.
The dragon in question continued to keep his eye peeking over his shoulder as he let out a playful rumble. Upside down, Caudle watched his hips sway to one side, momentum carrying the twin globes just obscured by the loose fabric to wobble delightfully as the body they were attached to halted. In a manner similar to the previous fidgeting exercises, Hershel's tail rose between himself and the table with very little clearance, until the spade just lightly brushed the bat's ears.
With his hip position, the fifth limb ended up at one side of the table. Hershel made a small correction in his position, tensing his glutes for enough time to send another ripple across his posterior, before he brought his tail down.
Caudle jumped in place, letting out a squeak as the heavy lid thudded hard over the entire line of oil. Not only did he feel a bit of the substance splatter into his fur from the side, but he also had a very good idea of where he left one of his utility hammers in the rafters during the last round of banner-hanging.
By bending his tail in on itself again in the same way, the dragon dragged the limb along the line of oil, spade pressed down to scrape up the last of it. Caudle heard the newly oiled scales lightly squelching against each other as the creases formed by the sharp angle rolled down its length again.
Hershel never turned his head enough for the bat to see his eyes from such a close position to the dragon's back, but it was clear he was adjusting again. The dragon relaxed his legs and brought himself back to a neutral posture. A little jolt ran through all of the mass Caudle could see, muscle and adipose alike, as his heels dropped to the floor. His tail was raised in almost the exact same angle as it had been before he slapped it down on the table, but now lined up with his boyfriend.
Caudle swallowed, a thought of that powerful of a strike coming down on him playing in his head. On one level, he knew his gentle giant of a boyfriend would never be so rough with him. On another, it seemed... appealing on some level.
As he thought, the heavy limb lowered gently, the plump broad underside near the base gently deforming around the bat's muzzle as the first point of contact.
Caudle had to fight back the urge to wrap his arms around it. He was the one receiving a massage, not his boyfriend! He did, however, nuzzle into the supple scales, as the heavy limb rolled down onto his chest, then over his hips. When the tail settled across his pressed-together feet, he could feel the other end dangling off the tabletop beyond him.
Once fully down, the tension in the girthy mass faded, and the full weight settled into place.
A groan was nearly pushed from the bat's lungs by the compression to his chest alone... Normally when his boyfriend's tail squeezed him, Caudle was wrapped in its coiling grasp. Getting flattened, for lack of a better term, was new. He was sure that the heat of the blush on his face would start that limb melting at the opposite end it usually started to if it stayed put much longer.
Partially muffled and partially conducted through the dragon's flesh, Caudle could hear Hershel's playful reply to the sound he made involuntarily. "Dear heart, I haven't even started the massage, yet..."
Caudle
