What I really want is a boy of my own, someone who will let me bare every single inch of skin. Someone who will let me expose them entirely. That trust would be…fucking amazing.
Last week, I had a pair who asked me to shave the sub’s hole. It had stunned me. The master had MS, hands shaking too badly to do it himself, but they trusted me. It had been mind blowing to be a part of that with them. Good for all three of us.
“How’s your drink, Cord?” Cedric grins at me, interrupting my musings, and pushes another along my table. “This one’s from the guy who’s been watching you for days in the far back.”
“Someone’s been watching me for days?” I haven’t noticed anyone watching. On the other hand, while I’m shaving, I tend to get pretty wrapped up in it—there’s a lot I wouldn’t notice.
I lean over, trying to get a look at my watcher. There’s a shadow in the back, but that’s it. Just a shadow. It has to be a sub—a master wouldn’t be so shy. I raise my glass in his direction and sit back. I don’t look in his direction again, although now I can sense him, watching me. Staring at me. It’s not exactly unnerving, but it certainly has messed with my Zen.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Cedric is a good man and great bartender. He’s also a friend.
“Nah. I won’t take another drink from him through you, though.” I will consider taking another one if it’s delivered in person, but I don’t play the kind of cat and mouse game this sub seems to be looking for. If he won’t even show himself, how am I to know if I’m interested or not?
“You got it. What do you want me to tell the server to tell him?”
“That if he wants something, he should come and ask for it.” That should be clear enough.
“You got it.”
I relax back into my corner again and focus back on the subs I worked on earlier. I remember shaving the second sub’s head. The man had such an interestingly shaped skull… If he’d been mine, I would have traced it with my fingers, held it in my palms, stroked it, explored it.
A gentle touch to my elbow surprises me, and I come face to face with Gerry, one of the servers. “Sir? There’s a man in the back. He asked me to give you this.” He hands me a piece of paper, the handwriting surprisingly familiar.
The note says, You still look amazing. L.
My sub. My boy.
The one who got away, although maybe ran away would be more accurate. I asked too much of him, and he left me for it. Not because I’d asked, but because he’d believed it was something I needed, and he knew he couldn’t give it to me. I only needed him to try, for me.
But why is he here now, buying me drinks and sending me notes?
My eyes go to the back corner again. It’s him. I think it’s him. No, it is him.
I’m up and heading right for him without even thinking about it. He’s hiding in the corner, face down as he types on his phone. Is there even a real text, or is he just pretending to be unaware that I’m coming to him?
I sit down across from him, and he looks up, eyes as light blue and bright as ever.
And just like that it all comes rushing back. The need to shave him, head to toe and all points in between. The need to lay him bare before me. For him to give me that trust. I wanted it all, and I still do. I want to shave him bald; I want to take his eyebrows and his facial hair, so there is nowhere for him to hide.
My prick has gone hard as nails just at the thought of it, just at the sight of those beautiful eyes. Anyone who says the sub has no power in a Dom/sub relationship has obviously never been in one. Liam has and always has had, the most amazing power over me.
“You do, you know.” He says it as if his note has started a conversation, and he is continuing it. “You’re still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
I shake my head because I have eyes, and he is right here in front of me. “Then you must never look in the mirror.”
“I don’t.” Liam has a little beard, a moustache, hair curling around his ears.
My fingers itch to be holding my straight razor, to bare him for me right here and now. Has he grown the facial hair so that I have somewhere to begin?
I lick my lips. “Why are you here, Li?”
“I still love you, and I can’t figure out how to live without you.”
The blunt words hit me like punches. They’re just like Liam, though. He thought he needed his hair to hide behind, but with it or without it, he has always been straightforward with me.
Liam sits there still, in a way he’s never been before, eyes on his beer that he hasn’t even touched.
“So what are you going to do about it, boy?” I have to ask it—he’s the one who left me, after all.
“Do any of the other boys mean anything to you?” He still isn’t looking at me, but he isn’t fidgeting, that lack of connection the only thing telling me how nervous he is at our meeting.
“If any of them were special to me, I’d be sitting with them.” It’s the honest truth. I’ve had offers, plenty of them. But I have felt a special connection—the connection I’m looking for—with not one of them.
“I am sitting with you.” I know my corollary is clear.
“I miss you.” So sure, so calm—my Liam isn’t calm. He never was.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Does this mean he wants to be together again? Does it mean he’s at least willing to try for me?
I won’t put words in his mouth; my heart can’t afford for me to make assumptions over what he’s doing here.
“I don’t have anything else planned. I was just going to sit and watch again.” Again. He’s been here before, watching me shave.
“I imagine I’m done for the night. There’s usually not much call for me after ten.” My shaving is more like a pre-show. The hardcore stuff tends to go down a little later in the evening, the lighter stuff earlier. We’re in the lull period between them.
“Are you bare anywhere?” I need to know.
He shakes his head. “No. No, that was yours.”
“Was?” It still is mine, if I’m reading him correctly. But again, I need him to be explicit about things. I want to hear from his mouth that he wants me, that he needs what only I can give him.
He clears his throat. “I mean, I couldn’t let anyone else touch me.”
“At all?” Dare I hope? Has he been celibate since he left me?
“At all.” He has.
I take a deep breath, my cock jerking against my pants. It’s more than I could have hoped for, but maybe what I’ve dreamed if I’m being very honest with myself. “That’s a long time to be without touch.”
“I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time when you were the one I needed.”
My heart begins to pound at his words. “Then why didn’t you come see me sooner?” Why did he go in the first place? And is he really saying what I think he’s saying? Does he really want to come back? To me? To us?
“I was ashamed. I was scared. I was stupid, prideful. Drunk. Take your pick.”
I chuckle—I can’t help it. “You’ve been drunk for more than three years?”
“I just got out of rehab.”
Rehab? I look at the beer, but it hasn’t been touched. God, sitting in a bar has to be like penance, and he’s come back at least twice, if not more times.
I reach over and wrap my hand around his; I need the connection of touch. “I didn’t know.” Why didn’t I know he had a problem?
He meets my eyes, not hiding from me now. “I didn’t tell you.”
I squeeze his hand again. “Now I understand why you wouldn’t even try to let me bare you—you had secrets.” God, my boy. My strong, brave boy. It breaks my heart and makes me proud, all at once. He was hiding and now he’s come out into the light. “I have my razors with me, and the small stage is still empty. I could do something about all that fuzz on your face.” Any more than that is private, and we’ll do it at home. Oh, I want to show him off, shave him head to toe for everyone to see. But not the first time. Not the time I make him mine for good.
I take a deep breath and force myself to be calm; I might be getting ahead of myself. Of course, that’s what the offer of public shaving is for, isn’t it? To test the waters. To see if our desires have a meeting place, to see if he’s here because he wants to be mine, or if I’m only a stage in his healing.
“If you want me, I’m yours.” There isn’t a single waver in his voice; he is speaking the truth.
“I want you.” I have no doubts about that. I wanted him years ago; I still want him now. I nod toward the small stage. “You have five minutes to prepare and meet me there.”
Liam doesn’t reply in words, but he bobs his head, answers me in an almost forgotten gesture.
I give his hand one last squeeze and get up to get my kit, to get set up. Find the right mindset. At the moment, excitement is rolling through me. My Liam is here, wanting me. I can’t fucking believe it.
I grab my kit and ask Cedric for two tall glasses of water to be delivered to the small stage. Then I hand over my ceramic bowl. It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking, to keep the eagerness from bleeding through into my voice. “And I need this filled with hot water.”
“Sure, man. You got another client?”
“No. I have a Liam.”
Cedric’s eyes went wide. “Like your Liam?”
I grin, knowing it’s more than a little wild, but the excitement needs to leak out somewhere. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
“Oh, man. Oh, I’ll get your water and keep my fingers crossed.” Cedric is a good friend indeed.
“Thank you, Cedric, I appreciate that.” I can feel that I’m still smiling like a loon. I can’t help myself, though. I have missed Liam with a physical pain.
We have so much to discuss, so much to deal with. So many questions to answer. But first, we have this. I’ll shave his beard and his moustache away, reveal the pale lines I love so much.
And I know him; I know that he grew them for me, to give me a place to start. He’s developed patience in our time away from each other—an intensity—and he has returned with intent.
I make my way over to the little stage. It’s only a foot or so off the ground, and the chair I like to use is still there, waiting for Liam to sit. There’s a much grander stage near the center of the room, but here is where I like to ply my trade. Here is where I find a quiet peace while shaving men for their masters. Here is where Liam and I will begin to come together again.
Liam is perfectly on time, not a moment late, not a second early. He has his button up shirt off, just his undershirt and jeans on, his big blue eyes staring at me.
God, he looks good. He’s been working out—not bodybuilder working out or anything like that, but his muscles are well-defined, and he’s clearly fit. There isn’t an ounce of extra weight on him, and it pays testament to the new discipline he’s found in his life. A new discipline that has brought him back to me.
Smiling at him, I nod toward the chair. It is time.
His motions are steady, relaxed. This calm man fascinates me. He’s both achingly familiar and new, all at the same time.
“I’m not going to let you hide secrets from me anymore. You understand that?” I’m going to bare him completely—and not just physically.
Liam nods once. “I understand.”