Beneath the Skin
Direction: Slash (M/M) Rating: R (For violence/non-explicit erotic content) Fandom: Nora Sakavic - "All For The Game" (AFTG) Pairing: Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard Word Count: ~3000 words (6 pages) Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Tags: Hurt/Comfort; Friendship; Massage; First Kiss; Everyday Life; Romance; Fluff.
Summary: Aaron felt like he’d been hit by a truck. After a brutal practice, all he wanted was to faceplant into his pillow and die. The last thing he expected was Kevin Day to sink onto the bed beside him and touch his aching shoulder.
The warmth of strong hands, the sharp scent of ointment. The pain faded. In the quiet room, there was only the two of them.
Chapter: A Quiet Evening After a Grueling Practice
“Hold still,” came a voice right by Aaron’s ear. Before he could process it, strong fingers dug into the rock-hard tension of his right shoulder. He jerked on the bed, a low groan ripped from him by the unexpected, piercing pain.
“Ow! Kevin, what the hell?! Are you nuts?” Aaron tried to twist away, but the pain instantly locked his movement, sending him face-first back into the pillow. Every muscle in his back and shoulder felt like a tight, fiery knot after that ill-fated fall under the double block.
“What, what,” Kevin grumbled, sitting unceremoniously on the edge of Aaron’s bed, the springs groaning in protest. His touch was firm, almost rough, yet incredibly precise, finding every knot of tension beneath the sweat-damp fabric of Aaron’s t-shirt. “You should’ve held your ground, not folded like a sack. Turn over properly. Or do you wanna walk like a robot tomorrow?”
The pain, sharp from the sudden invasion, began to slowly retreat under the insistent pressure of Kevin’s fingers, replaced by a deep, almost painful warmth. With each circular motion over the agonizing knot, the tension melted, giving way to a heavy, pleasant lassitude. Aaron’s jaw unclenched involuntarily, his face pressing deeper into the pillow. Damn, it actually helps... flickered a reluctant thought.
He cracked one eye open, nose buried in the pillowcase. Kevin Day. The Kevin Day, whose personal space was sacred and other people's problems were just annoying obstacles on the path to Exy greatness. Sitting here, on his perpetually rumpled blanket, and... massaging his shoulder? Kevin’s hands, usually gripping a racquet with deadly force, moved now with methodical, almost surgical precision. Aaron caught himself watching the path of those strong fingers across his shoulder blade. Why the sudden concern? Did something happen? Or... The thought cut off as Kevin pressed down especially hard on a spot near the blade.
“A-ah! Are you trying to break my bones, you sadist?” Aaron hissed, though without the earlier anger, more out of habit.
His gaze slid over the familiar chaos of his half of the room: a t-shirt lay discarded near a lone sneaker, a precarious stack of notes tilted threateningly on the nightstand, a poster of crossed Exy racquets glaring brightly on the wall. In stark contrast – Kevin’s territory: the perfectly made bed, the neat stack of sports strategy textbooks on the desk, the only decoration being a sun-drenched diagram of the court taped to the wall. A shaft of evening sunlight gilded dust motes in the air and caught the tense line of Kevin’s jaw. Kevin didn’t answer the jab, just snorted faintly. His brows were drawn together in that familiar focused furrow, as if he were solving a complex play, not kneading his teammate’s muscles. Lips pressed tight, breathing even but slightly deeper than usual. His fingers, so sure and strong, faltered for a second when they hit a particularly vicious spasm.
“Relax, Minyard,” his voice came out unexpectedly low and slightly rough, lacking its usual bite. “You’re stiff as a board. Is that how you hold a block?” The grumbling was a ritual, a familiar shield, but there was a new... caution in his movements. Aaron thought – though maybe it was the deceptive evening light? – that the corners of Kevin’s stern mouth softened for a fraction of a second. Was he... trying?
“You’re... mmm... not much of a masseur...” Aaron mumbled into the pillow, but the end of the sentence drowned in a fresh wave of relief as Kevin worked the shoulder blade with strong, circular motions. He couldn’t pretend it hurt anymore – only a deep, almost sweet fatigue flooded his muscles. “...Though your shoulder blades... apparently... don't count... Hey, ease up, Day! I'm not a practice ball!”
The protest sounded fake, like a child’s “I don’t wanna sleep” when their eyes are already drooping. Kevin just snorted again, but his fingers – so sure, so knowing of his body – suddenly slowed. They slid higher, to the base of Aaron’s neck, and began working the stiff muscles there with uncharacteristic fluidity. Not just strength, but rhythm. Circular motions, deep, drawing out the last dregs of pain. Aaron felt his own breathing begin, involuntarily, to sync with that rhythm. Deep inhale – pressure, exhale – release.
Kevin dissolved. His grumbling faded entirely. His usually straight, rigid spine curved slightly forward, as if bearing the weight of invisible focus – all his concentration funneled into his palms, into the muscles beneath them. His breathing deepened, quietened, almost mirroring the rhythm of Aaron’s sighs. The focus he usually reserved for dissecting plays was replaced by another state – immersion. The world seemed to shrink to the warmth of skin under his hands and the rare, quiet sighs escaping Aaron’s chest.
Aaron, lulled by the warmth and this new, hypnotic rhythm, began to drift towards sleep. Consciousness blurred like mist. His muscles went completely soft, pliant. He jerked his head awkwardly, trying to shake off the drowsiness, and felt a stray strand fall across his forehead. And then – a touch.
Kevin, almost without thought, mechanically, with the same absorbed focus he’d massaged with – brushed the stray lock back. His fingers barely grazed the skin of Aaron’s forehead, skimmed his temple – a light, fleeting gesture of care, so unlike him. Aaron flinched. Not from pain. From the tenderness that speared through him like an electric current. His eyes flew open for a split second, but he lacked the strength to turn. He froze, listening to the frantic pounding of his own heart.
Silence. Thick, warm, filled only by their breathing and the tremor of that gesture. And then... it happened.
Kevin’s fingers still rested against Aaron’s temple. He, too, seemed frozen by his own action. And then... as if obeying an impulse born in that silence and closeness, Kevin leaned lower. His breath ghosted over the damp skin of Aaron’s neck – hot, uneven. And then – lips. Light, almost weightless, touched the sensitive spot right at the base of his neck. Not even a kiss. More like a silent press. A moment. Heat. A jolt.
Aaron moaned. Softly, stifled, not from pain – from shock and the sudden heat that exploded from the point of contact and flooded his entire body. He shuddered violently, as if electrocuted, curling in on himself, feeling his face flush crimson. God... Kevin... Did he just...?
A moment of awkward silence hung, thick and resonant. Kevin jerked upright as if burned. His breath hitched. He pulled back so fast the bedsprings gave a pitiful shriek.
“Ointment,” his voice rasped, tight, like he’d just run ten laps. “Need... ointment. Warming kind. Or you won’t be able to move tomorrow.”
He stood, almost stumbling, and strode towards his own nightstand with its impeccably medical first-aid kit, his back to Aaron. His shoulders were unnaturally tense, his ears burning so brightly it was visible even in the slanting sunset rays.
Aaron lay motionless, face still buried in the pillow, but the shame and heat were slowly giving way to... confusion and a strange, frightening warmth inside. He heard Kevin rummaging frantically in the drawer, dropping something. He ran away. Like a kid. And for some reason, the thought made the corners of Aaron’s mouth twitch upwards. He gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the stupid smile. His heart hammered like after a sprint. The sharp smell of sports ointment suddenly filled the room, mingling with the scent of sweat and... something new. Something intensely personal.
Kevin returned with a tube. He stood by the bed, hesitating to sit again, shifting his weight. The plastic tube crumpled in his sweaty fingers. His gaze skittered over Aaron’s back, over that spot on his neck where minutes ago... He sharply looked away. Just do it and leave, flashed through his mind, but his legs refused.
Aaron opened his eyes. He didn’t turn, but felt the weight of the gaze on him. Slowly, fighting the lingering stiffness in his neck, he turned his head on the pillow. His gaze – still blurred from interrupted sleep, but with a glint of familiar defiance – met Kevin’s.
Of course, Kevin didn’t miss the traces of exhaustion on Aaron – the dark circles from late nights, the pallor (though, if he was honest, Kevin kind of liked it). The lingering embarrassment, the faint blush on his cheekbones that made the usually quiet, cold, albeit sharp Aaron look almost... cute. But the main thing wasn't the sharpness, it was... understanding? And a barely perceptible, sly spark deep in his gaze.
Aaron saw his confusion, saw him mangling the tube, and... he found it amusing.
“Well, oh great healer?” Aaron’s voice was hoarse from recent drowsiness, but the subtext was clear: "Scared to continue after your little 'surprise'?" “Working out your ointment application strategy? Or changed your mind about saving this 'idiot'?” The corners of his lips twitched, fighting a smile at the sight of Kevin’s tense figure.
Kevin flinched at the direct question, a flush flooding his neck and ears, visible even in the half-light. His eyes darted sideways, lips pressed into a thin white line. He looked like a schoolboy caught red-handed, not the captain of the Exy team.
“Shut up, Minyard,” he exhaled, but it sounded weak, almost devoid of its usual cutting edge. “Just... didn’t wanna wake you. If you were almost...”
Aaron didn’t let him finish. He rotated his sore shoulder – the movement slow, slightly exaggerated, showcasing the residual stiffness, but with an unexpected fluidity that could almost be called... enticing. As if he wasn’t just pointing out the sore spot, but inviting Kevin’s hands back.
“Almost doesn’t count, Day,” he said quieter, a warm, sleepy note entering his voice. “That ointment’s clearly not for decoration. Or are you waiting for a written invitation?”
That look... Blood rushed back to Kevin’s face, but panic was replaced by resolve. He stepped forward sharply, no longer hesitating.
“Don’t take invitations from idiots,” he grumbled, more like his usual self, sitting on the edge of the bed. But in his movements as he squeezed the pungent warming ointment onto his palm, there was none of the previous rough force. There was caution, concentration. And a desire to fix the awkwardness with action.
The first touch—Kevin’s palm, slick with ointment, landed on Aaron’s sore shoulder. Hot! Aaron actually surged forward from the surprise – the ointment wasn’t just warm, it burned with a deep, living heat.
“Whoa!” escaped him.
But Kevin was already rubbing it into the muscles – firmly, confidently, deeply. Pain retreated before a wave of healing fire. Aaron groaned – this time long, low, from relief and almost sweet pain.
“Yeah... like that...” he whispered, letting his head drop back onto the pillow. The muscles beneath Kevin’s palm melted, becoming pliant, warm putty.
Aaron felt the final easing as Kevin worked silently, methodically, coating the entire shoulder and shoulder blade area. The heat penetrated deep, searing away the last remnants of pain, replacing it with a heavy, blissful lethargy. The tension built up over hours dissolved. Aaron relaxed completely, his breathing becoming deep and even. Consciousness drifted again, but this time it wasn’t from exhaustion, but from a deep, pleasant calm. He only dimly registered Kevin’s strong fingers working the ointment in, the heat spreading under his skin, the world turning soft and safe.
The heat of the ointment pulsed beneath his skin, intertwining with the residual warmth from Kevin’s hands. Aaron lay there, nose buried in the pillow, but sleep had retreated, pushed aside by a strange lightness in his muscles and the tense silence hanging between them once more. Kevin still sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Aaron’s shoulder blade, the ointment now absorbed.
“Better?” Kevin’s voice sounded muffled, unnaturally loud in the quiet. He was clearly trying to reclaim the ‘savior-captain’ role.
“Way better,” Aaron mumbled, not turning. He felt Kevin’s palm twitch slightly. “Thanks, Kev. You...” he hesitated, gathering courage, “...you’re different today.”
Kevin tensed, his hand jerking back as if burned.
“Different?” His voice turned sharp, defensive. “I just did what needed doing. So you don’t let the team down tomorrow. Nothing more. Forget that...” he stumbled, “...episode. It was stupid. Just plain fatigue.”
Denial. Loud, clumsy. Like a shout in an empty room. Aaron slowly rolled onto his back, fighting the lingering stiffness. He pushed himself up on his elbows, his gaze – no longer sleepy, but clear and sharp – meeting Kevin’s eyes. Kevin sat turned away, fists clenched on his knees.
“Forget?” Aaron said quietly, but clearly. There was no anger in his voice, only certainty. “Forget you fixing my hair? Forget your lips touching my neck? Forget you running off like a freshman caught cheating?” He saw Kevin flinch with each word. “That wasn’t an ‘episode,’ Kevin. And it wasn’t ‘fatigue.’ It happened. And it...” Aaron paused, his voice softening, “...wasn’t unpleasant to me.”
Kevin froze. He seemed to stop breathing. He stared at his clenched fists, shoulders trembling with tension. Denial hovered on the tip of his tongue, but the words stuck. He was fighting – himself, this new, terrifying reality.
“Don’t... don’t make it a thing,” he finally forced out, voice hoarse, tight. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does,” Aaron interrupted him, softly but inexorably. He sat up higher. “It means you care. More than you’re willing to show. It means I...” he swallowed, “...matter to you. Otherwise, you’d have just thrown the ointment at me and walked off. Like usual.” His gaze was open, without tricks. “It means everything and more, Kevin Day,” he said, as if savoring each syllable of his name.
Silence. Thick, heavy, filled with the beating of two hearts. Kevin lifted his head. His eyes – dark, full of turmoil and something else, fragile, unfamiliar – met Aaron’s. There was no familiar confidence, only bewilderment and... fear. Fear of being understood. Accepted. Fear of this new, uncharted territory between them.
“I...” he began and stopped again. The denial crumbled under the weight of that gaze and those words. He found no arguments. Couldn’t. He just... sat. Stunned. Vulnerable.
Aaron saw the struggle, the capitulation. He didn’t push. Instead, he slowly, very slowly, pushed back the edge of the blanket beside him, on his own bed. Without a word. Just an invitation. Space. A choice.
Kevin looked at the free space, then at Aaron, then back at the space. Seconds stretched like hours. And then... he surrendered. Not with words, but with movement. He carefully, as if afraid to startle, shifted from the edge of the bed to sit on the floor, his back against the frame, forehead pressed to the edge of the mattress. His shoulders were still tense, but it wasn’t defense anymore. It was... weariness. Deep, genuine.
“I don’t know how to do this...” Kevin’s whisper was barely audible, muffled by the mattress. “...how to care. Like this. Not about the team. About... one person.” He clenched his fingers on his knees. “It’s scary.”
Aaron shifted closer quietly, not touching him.
“It’s not scary,” he whispered back. “It’s... like a blind pass. You just trust. And move forward.” He paused. “And I’ll catch it. Always.”
Another silence. But this one was different. Not heavy, but filled with understanding.
The air seemed to vibrate with the unspoken, and then Kevin turned his head, just slightly, so Aaron could see his profile in the gloom – the clenched jaw, the shadow of long lashes. Their gazes met again. And this time, there was no fear in Kevin’s eyes. Only a quiet resolve and a question.
Aaron understood. He didn’t say anything. He simply leaned in, slowly. He gave Kevin time to pull away. Kevin didn’t move.
Aaron’s lips touched the sensitive skin at the base of Kevin’s neck – as gently as Kevin had once touched his. But this wasn’t a random impulse. It was a choice. An affirmation. A promise. Light as a breath, but heavy with meaning.
Kevin shuddered, but didn’t pull back. A deep sigh escaped him – a stifled sound of relief, capitulation, and acceptance. His hand moved awkwardly, uncertainly, to cover Aaron’s hand resting beside him on the mattress. Fingers intertwined. Hot. Trembling. Real.
They sat like that, in silence, in the dimness of the room. The heat of the ointment on Aaron’s shoulder mingled with the warmth from their joined hands and this new, fragile trust between them. The pain was gone. The tension dissolved. All that remained was a deep, unfamiliar calm. After a while, Aaron’s breathing became deep and even again, his head lolling limply onto the pillow. He fell asleep, but their fingers were still intertwined.
Kevin sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bed, staring into the dark. His mind wasn’t racing with its usual strategy thoughts, only a peaceful fatigue and this strange, warm feeling that now had a name. He carefully disentangled his hand, gently, like handling something precious, brushed the tousled hair back from Aaron’s forehead, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and only then rose. He didn’t go to the desk. He walked to the window, looking out at the campus lights. The evening was quiet, but now that silence was filled with new meaning.
The pain in Aaron’s shoulder had eased. The pain in his own soul – the one he never spoke of – had also receded, dissolving in this strange, new silence. He didn’t look at play diagrams. He just sat, feeling the rhythm of calm breathing behind him – the only score that mattered now. Lights flickered outside, and inside the Foxhole, something important had begun. Not a game. Life. Beneath the skin. At the level of the heart.
Author's Notes: This story was born from my desire to participate in a contest by an amazing author — consider it my entry piece. I adore the Kevin/Aaron pairing, so I decided to start with them. Comments, critique, or just your thoughts mean the world to me as a beginner! Feel free to share what you liked/disliked. Your feedback is my motivation to keep writing! I’d love to hear your impressions 💖
Dedication: My very first real fanfic! So I dedicate it to myself and to someone special. To the person who inspired this story to exist.
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