The sensation was... He couldn't say. He couldn't think.
Fingers patted, brushed, rolled, untying knots stretching muscles.
Then warm, strong though amazingly smooth hands pressed against his shoulders, his shoulder blades, his waist, stroking him as a horseman would stroke his mount, reassuring, comforting, dragging him in a blissful, restful sleep.
Suddenly, fingers started a strange dance, from the nape of his neck.
It wasn't a massage.
They strolled from left to right, lines and curves, dashes and periods...
It was... a message?
Period.
Fingers stopped, resting on the small of his back, almost causing him to moan with frustration.