September 2020 Drabble #1 (Patreon)

Reinhardt wasn’t often called upon these days. Usually it were for costumers that the others were a bit too afraid off, or ones that specifically asked for an older gentleman like him.

He’s not sure which of the two categories the current customer fell under, but he hurries along the hallways even so. It does not matter to him much, after all; he just enjoys bringing some rest and relaxation into someone’s life.

In the distance he can hear something that sounds awfully lot like an explosion, followed by mad cackling. He slows down somewhat, frowning. From behind him, a few colleagues come running, hurrying toward the direction of the mayhem.

“Is everything alright?” he calls after them, pausing in front of the room he is supposed to be in.

“Just the new customers!” one of them calls back over their shoulder.

Reinhardt frowns and scratches the back of his head. He pushes the door open and steps inside, then pauses while it clicks shut behind him, staring at the truly massive man on the bench. His huge stomach is slowly lifting and lowering, his calm breathing audible.

If he were not slightly turning his head to Reinhardt, he would have thought he was asleep. Unnervingly enough, he is wearing a gas mask.

“Ah… hello,” Reinhardt finally gets out, goosebumps running along his arms. The nice kind of goosebumps. “Is that-” he hooks his thumb over his shoulder. Very faintly another explosion like sound can be heard. “-your partner?”

The huge man just grunts, which could mean anything, really. He watches as Reinhardt cards thick fingers through his hair and laughs.

“Ah well. It does not matter. What matters is what I can do for you, right?”

“He’s here for fun.”

Reinhardt can feel his nipples going tight at the deep, breathy voice. He drags big hands down the front of his white shirt, painfully aware that they’re more than visible through the fabric.

He laughs again just to mask his nervousness, and starts to round the massage table toward the other side of the room where the oils and heated stones are.

“W-Well then he’s come to the right place! But you are not here for fun?”

“No.” Reinhardt turns around at that, a bottle of oil in his huge hand that looks comically small. Before he can ask, the customer elaborates: “Pleasure.”

He easily, without an ounce of shame, spreads his stocky, fat legs and shows Reinhardt a pair of the most massive balls he has ever seen, a meaty beer-can cock resting on top of them. It only occurs to him now that the customer hasn’t draped a towel over himself. It hadn’t really pinged on his radar with how preoccupied he had been with ogling that huge, tattooed belly.

Reinhardt’s insides do a delicious little swoop.

“Ah, I see… I… I can deal with that,” he rasps.