Jockeys, while not particularly heavy, put a lot of force behind their initial jump. Meaning when they land on your shoulders and pull you in whatever direction? They wrench your back, your neck and your shoulders.
Because of this? Nick’s muscles were on fire. Someone kill him. Christ he was getting old.
He had felt the muscles in his neck pull when the Jockey landed, then it pulled him backward forcing his shoulders back awkwardly and bending him over. His spine had cracked and since then he hasn’t been able to raise his arms properly to fire his gun.
The four survivors had managed to get to the safe house, Rochelle, God bless the woman and her first born, had handed the conman her pills with a kind smile before going to check their ammo supplies.
Coach? Good man, love him. He had said that Nick could take the double bed upstairs, “You can barely move, Nicholas, the couch wont help.” and so Nick had taken himself upstairs and fell onto he bed with a groan of agony.
Someone shoot him like a lame horse and end his misery.
“Hey, Nick?” Oh God please someone shoot him no- “Just checkin' yew are okay, Jockey did a number on ya, y'know my ma used t' get these problems with her back all'a time so I figured I should learn t' help her out a bit y'know-" Great. The moron is comparing Nick to his fifty year old mother. Jesus. “An' we kinda learned that since she couldn’t stretch it on her own, on account’a her pain an' all that I could help her and push a little y’know? Means that she stretches more and could hold it for longer and then after I’d give her a shoulder rub y'know, t' help with the aches and such. So I were figurin' that maybe I could help yew out too ‘cause yew’re sorta the same pain like y'know-" Okay, slow down, a back rub did sound nice.
Nick raises his head slowly and with a wince, his own body was trying to off him. Is Ellis still talking? “Okay, Ace.” He speaks tiredly. He wants that back rub.
“- An' it sucks that yew are hurtin' ‘cause ya couldn’t shoot none earlier and that’s- Wait okay? Y'serious?”
“Yes, Ellis. You can give me a back massage just please shut up while you do.” Ellis was right, Nick wasn’t able to shoot earlier, the recoil of the gun had damn near driven the conman to his knees. Coach told him to stop, relax, that they had his back; and Nick? For first time in years? Believed the guy, he believed these people would watch his ass the same way he’d watch theirs. It was a nice feeling to have. Trust.
“We’ll I can’t just jump right in and rub ya-" Nick raises a brow at that. Does this idiot even listen to himself when he speaks? “-Gotta stretch yew out first-" Clearly not. Jesus. “-T' make sure yew're all relaxed and such.”
“Champ, I can barely move-" Nick grouches out but Ellis interrupts with a scoff “Well duh! Tha's why its assisted stretchin'. I’m gonna make ya move.” And didn’t that just sound oddly arousing. “Come on now, sit up an' I’ll get behind ya-" Oh my God. This time Nick interrupts. “Please stop talking, Ellis.”
The older male slowly pushes himself up, trying to flex his back in anyway that doesn’t hurt but it doesn’t work, then suddenly the mechanic is behind him, no warning, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other taking a gentle hold of his left elbow. Steadily lifting the arm to shoulder height. “Christ, Ace, warn a guy.” Grey eyes close in a grimace, muscles disagreeing angrily with the sudden movement.
“Sorry, Nick.” He’s quiet for a moment, getting himself comfortable and sitting with his legs either side of the conman. “Warnin'.” Is all the dumbass says before he begins pulling Nick’s arm back towards himself, pressing his fingers down against the muscle as it shifts under his hand. Ouch. Nick clenched his jaw and hisses between his teeth.
As he stretches the arm, Ellis keeps the firm pressure on the flexing muscles through the thin material of Nick’s shirt, painfully moving from between the shoulder blades and up his trapezius before finally rubbing strong fingers into the deltoid and pushing Nick’s arm forward into it’s natural position and then pushing up on his bicep to make the criminal raise his arm, massaging back down in the same motions before releasing the arm. Each minute movement causing a pang of aching pain to burn through Nick's back.
The Georgian copies the motions on the gamblers other arm and Nick let’s out a steadying breath once he's released. Ouch.
When Ellis talks, it surprises Nick to realise he had worked in silence, carefully focussed on the task at hand rather than blabbering on about whatever the fuck. “Alrigh’, it’ll be easier t' do yer back stretchin’ if yew are stood up, ‘therwise y'gotta use me as support and kinda like, go backwards over me sort o' thing. Hard t' explain.” Nick doubts that anyone with half a brain cell more than the hick would have any trouble at all explaining. But whatever. He’s not standing up either way.
“I’m good with sitting, El, bend me over then.” Oh my God that did not just come out of his mouth. Ellis falls silent and a small glance back confirms the bright red blush that has spread across the blondes freckled face. God damn it.
Ellis clears his throat quietly and shifts onto his knees, pressing his left arm along the middle of Nick’s back “’Kay, uh- yew start leanin' back until it hurts too much, then I'm gonna reach around and push ya further back ‘till yer head hits my shoulder. Ready?”
“No but I assume we’re going anyway.” The gambler begins to lean back, able to ignore the sharp stabbing pain for a moment until his back seizes and he just has to stop moving. Groaning quietly then groaning again as he feels Ellis's hand on his chest and the increasing pressure forcing him further back.
In any other situation Nick would be impressed at the strength Ellis has to hold him up with one arm and push him backwards with the other. In any other situation he’d be thinking ‘God that’s hot.’ But right now? He wants to throw himself bodily across the room and break both of the hicks arms because this shit hurts. As his head touches the blondes shoulder he let’s out a quiet yelp and grasps at the others knee. Christ ouch. It feels like his muscles are tearing and he’s only gone back by three inches. Ellis pushes his forearm against Nick’s back firmly, pushing a little further before slowly releasing and allowing Nick to sit up steadily.
“You’re torturing me.” “I ain’t, stop bein' a baby and start leanin’ forward.”
Pressure at his back forces him forwards, “N' straighten your back.” A hand on his chest makes him straighten up, muscles stretch painfully and Nick groans. “C'mon now, my ma can bend further than that.” That settles it. The second he can stand he's decking the bastard.
He feels his back crack as the asshole uses his own body weight to lean over the conman, forcing his back to stretch down further while now using both hands to pull his chest up and keep his spine straight. This feels like some sort of medieval torture version of spooning. Ellis has his chest pressed to Nick’s back pushing him down while he also pulls him up and it feels like the hick is trying to snap him in half.
Maybe he should start being nicer to the guy because Ellis seems to have no merciful bone in his body, pulling and pushing until the muscles in his back are stretched and tight. He holds the painful position before releasing the conman and Nick nearly falls face first onto the bed.
“Alrigh' if you get on yer stomach I can give yew that massage now.” After the pain Nick had just suffered, he was tempted to tell the hick to go fuck himself and just go to sleep but as his body was allowed to fall back to its natural position he found that the brutal stretch had actually loosened him up and he did feel better. Ace clearly knew what he was doing, even if it fucking hurt.
Nick carefully shifted himself on to his stomach, wincing as he flexes his shoulders. “This better be the best damn massage I’ve ever had, El.” A sudden weight settles on the backs of the conman’s thighs. Of all the positions the moron could have picked he chose to sit on him, what the fuck. “Jesus Christ, Ellis, what the-" Thumbs pressed into the pressure point of his neck and began to rub in slow circles up the column and then down to the base. Oh. Okay yeah that feels nice. Nick falls silent and allows his head to fall back down into the pillows, baring his neck to the mechanics calloused hands.
The hick stays quiet for once in his life as his thumbs exchange to the heels of his palms and the soothing pressure is applied to his shoulders, Ellis using his body weight to grind down on Nick’s aching muscles.
Nick wondered briefly how the mechanics arms looked, the younger guy is a pound of protein away from being a beef cake. He’s seen those arms lift a car alone.
And that was an image that wouldn’t leave Nick alone for weeks; now it was back only this time Nick could picture those arms lifting him up-
Not going there. Stop that.
Ellis's hands move across his deltoid, squeezing as he wraps them around the bicep and moves the conman’s arms so they’re spread out, thumbs rub into his triceps and firm fingers trail to his teres major, digging in and causing Nick to let out an unrestrained groan. God that feels good.
He can feel Ellis shake with silent mirth. Definitely, definitely punching him later.
Broad hands spread and pressed along his latissmus dorsi, trailing pleasurably to his thoracolumbar fascial, fingers dug in and moved down slowly.
And if those hands move further down than strictly necessary? Well Nick wasn’t complaining as the kneading pressure moved below his lilac crest. Palms come to a halt over the curve of Nick’s ass squeezing briefly before the guy seems to catch himself and damn near launches himself up off the bed and through the roof.
If Nick wasn’t so relaxed he’d get up too but his whole back feels like jelly and he just wants to nap. “Ellis, Jesus Christ calm yourself.”
“I'm calm!” he clears his throat and tries again, quieter and not so high pitched “I am calm. I finished is all. Yew should be feelin’ grand in the mornin'.”
Nick lifts himself up onto his elbows with a content sigh “I already feel ‘grand'. Thanks, Ace.”
Ellis smiles brightly and nods “Glad I could help ya, we’re a team. Though yew should probably start doing stretches daily y’know? Look after y'self. At yer age, muscles strain easier.” His happy smile changes to a shit eating grin.
Punching him. Tomorrow.
“I hate you, Ellis.” There’s a soft snort of laughter. “Well I still like yew, Nick.” Bastard.