The Shave

Author's note: This is a rare piece of erotica from me from the male perspective. The one I'm actually qualified to write from. It's semi-autobiographical, but the scene itself derives from a random comment born in the depths of my warped little mind, not an actual event, more's the pity.

#

It had been a while since I felt like dancing, but Stefan was in the right mood in his booth and a string of Sisters, Nephilim, Joy Division and New Order, Covenant and the odd Screaming Tribesmen meant I found my spot on the floor and kept it.

I had gone scruffy that night, staring at myself in the mirror and thinking I couldn't be bothered either shaving or running the trimmers over what was, to be perfectly honest, sharply outlined designer stubble.

So I hadn't brushed my hair before tying it back, and instead of my normal elaborate clothes and coat I had put one of my more piratical lace shirts over my laced pants, put on boots and left it at that.

I was through my third beer without noticing the alcohol, and sweating hard enough to pull the laced front of my shirt all the way open, when I noticed her noticing me.

The fact I noticed at all says something about how good I was feeling, but not even I can be self-conscious all the time and after I did a sly audit of the people around me and moved to see if she was tracking me, I had to admit it was probably me she was casting those calculating, up-and-down sideways glances at.

I had noticed her earlier, but then I had been admiring clothes and trying to spot friends, and she had merely passed by my radar as a tight body, charged with energy, wearing skin-tight patchwork black and grey jeans and a ripped band shirt over a long-sleeved fishnet top, a plain black bra seen at one edge of the T-shirt.

She was sexy, but not stylish compared to the corsets and leather I had been letting my gaze linger on.

Moving, however, she was a different matter, and moving in my direction made her a whole lot more noteworthy.

The next song picked up the rhythm a bit and she started dancing closer. We were half turned towards each other when I looked over at the bar to see what the wait was like, turned back and she was gone.

Well, shit. Score one for crushing disappointment.

I finished the rest of that song, then headed for another beer. I had to wait to get to the front, then suddenly there was a crowded feeling next to me.

"Buy me a beer?" She asked, leaning on the stainless steel and pressed against my arm by the crush of the crowd.

The bar-boy arrived before I could respond, so I just let actions speak for me.

I didn't give it to her until she told me her name was Ravyn. What the hell, I could go with that.

She lead me outside, to the smoker's balcony, taking a swig as she slipped through the crowd like an eel in painted-on denim.

We went right to the end before we found a free spot, and she leaned her back into the wrought-iron corner.

"You dance well, Ade," she said, giving me a frank, intense look as she took another swig of beer.

"It's a fluke, I haven't had enough practice to dance well. You're better at it than I am."

"You don't usually come here?"

"I don't usually dance when I come here."

She clicked her fingers. "I recognise you now! You're usually glammed up."

"I'll accept that as an uninformed description of my usual devastating style."

She laughed easily. "You need a shave."

"Which is why I'm not glammed up."

"You didn't have time to shave?"

"I couldn't be bothered shaving. I've had a very relaxed day."

She gave me a calculating look over the top of her beer. "Tell you what. You let me shave you, and I'll have wild sex with you."

I had another drink, to give my head time to settle around that one. "If you don't cut my hair," I said. "The hair stays. Facial hair is up for grabs."

"Done," she said, holding out her hand to shake. "Facial hair only. But you have to let me do it my way, as I wish."

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay. My safe-word is Bailey."

She grinned, a little fiercely. "Oh good, you know the rules. Fancy leaving now? I'm a little horny. I didn't drive, so I guess we're getting a taxi back to my place?"

She lived on the opposite side of town to me, so I had no idea where we were going until we got there.

The house was old, wooden, built in the fifties to a style that didn't quite fit because they were trying to be "modern," not intelligent. She had it to herself, and had stamped a casual, cheerfully messy and goth/punk persona on it.

"It's a bare-foot house," she said when she let me in without fumbling with the key at all. "And visiting boys have to go shirtless at all times."

I could hear the smirk in her voice even from behind her head.

I unzipped my boots and peeled them off, followed by my socks, faster than she could manage her laces, which gave me time to stand in front of her and peel off my sweat-soaked shirt.

Hitting 30 had not come with fat, and a figure that had always been wiry had even managed to put on some muscle lately, so I didn't look like a poorly padded skeleton.

"Hmm, I like a good hard man," she purred as she finished untying her boots by touch and kept her eyes on about the level of my sternum. "And piercings! You do know how to give a girl jewellery to play with."

"Turn about is fair play, Ravyn" I said as she finally stood up, peeling her socks off.

She just grinned at me and hauled her band shirt and her fishnet shirt over her head together, leaving her in the black bra I had glimpsed earlier, covering small but undeniably tight breasts on a torso even leaner than mine.

"Right," she said, her grin not fading, "bathroom. Now. Come on, you."

She grabbed my hand and lead me, her grip strong and sure, her hand warm and inviting.

The bathroom looked even older than the rest of the house, cycles of heat and humidity ruining the cheap wallpaper, vinyl floor and what was probably undisturbed asbestos sheeting.

But the light was strong and the room was clean, with the faded look of surfaces that have been bleached repeatedly because it's the only thing that'll work.

"Right," she said, grinning even wider, standing in the doorway. "Strip!"

"Did we just talk about my face? Because I've done the rest."

"Ooh, lucky me! I'm only doing your face, but you agreed to let me do as I wanted to, and I want you naked. Strip."

By this point, my laced pants were too tight to be comfortable anyway. I stripped, facing her, not making a show of it but just staring her straight in the eye as she looked at my waist as I undid my belt and pants and pushed them and my undies off my hips and peeled them down my legs.

"Hmm, you're nicely formed all over, Ade," she said, licking her lips as I stopped bouncing. "Where the hell did you get those thighs?"

"Lots of cycling," I replied, turning sideways to give her a good view of my legs and also, not unintentionally, my full length. "Years ago, but they never went away."

"Lucky me, again. And you've shaved your legs and your balls, but not your face."

"Yes, but they were two days ago."

"Fair enough."

There was a chair in the corner, which she picked up easily and sat down close to the sink.

I couldn't help noticing the leather straps attached to the front legs and the back of the chair.

"Sit," she said, pointing, "you're tall, but I think you'll fit."

I sat, not taking my eyes off her, putting my ankles in front of the leather cuffs in front, and folding my arms behind the chair to where the other cuffs were.

Smirking, she bent down, tightening the cuffs securely around my ankles while I got a good look at the tops of her tight breasts. She put her hands on my ankles to push herself upright and leaned forwards to kiss me - the first time she had - fiercely, with lots of tongue, and teeth scraping over my lips.

I kept my arms were they were.

She walked slowly around me, trailing one hand over my chest, over my pierced nipple, flicking the ring and making me grit my teeth to not give her the satisfaction of making any noise, until she knelt down behind me to cuff my hands. Those cuffs were adjustable vertically, and she pulled my arms down snugly. That pulled my shoulders down, which meant I had to shift my hips forwards in the chair, although I had been tall enough to sit right back even with my knees over the corners and my feet flat on the floor.

Then I heard her giggle, and she rushed out without an explanation. I was almost feeling worried before she came back in winding a thin rope around her hands.

She stepped straight behind me, pulled my hair tie off and quickly and surely tied the rope through my hair, attaching the other end to the chair and pulling until my head couldn't bend forwards before tying it off.

"Right," she said with a purr in her voice as she stepped back in front of me, "naked, hard, and disciplined. Just how I like my men."

She opened the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a mug, a shaving brush, and a wicked, gleaming, cut-throat razor.

That definitely raised my eyebrows.

"Don't worry," she said, stropping it on a leather strap, "I've done this a lot."

Her eyes dropped. "Aw, you're not going to go limp on me, are you? Here, let me help."

I wasn't, but I wasn't complaining either as she put the razor on the edge of the sink and dropped to her knees between mine.

She engulfed me in one smooth motion, not messing about with kissing or playing or warming up, just swallowing me. I purred as her throat closed around me and her teeth lightly closed around my base as she grabbed my balls, one in each hand, and started tickling them gently.

She only worked me long enough to make me rock-hard, then slipped off and stood up, deftly unhooked her bra and dropped it, then peeled off her jeans, revealing no panties. There was a gleaming equilateral triangle of piercings now visible, and I wasn't sure which one to focus one.

"Have you ever hooked nipple rings together with someone?"

"Haven't met anyone as qualified as you," I managed to get out before she flicked my own rings with her fingers and made me inhale sharply. I tried not to respond, but both nipples at once was a bit much.

She laughed, grabbed my shoulders and used them to brace her as she stepped around my legs and straddled me. I was going to protest as she started lowering herself, before I realised I was already wearing a condom. How the hell had she done that?

We both groaned when she pressed herself down over me. She was wet but not soaking and hadn't lubed up, so there was enough resistance to make me shudder and her gasp with eyes closed as she worked her way down until she was sitting on me and I could feel there was no more depth to plumb.

She took a few deep breaths, settling herself, her small but jutting breasts lifting and falling hypnotically, which I could only see by rolling my eyes downwards. Then she sighed happily and opened her eyes again, rolling her hips about me just enough to be maddening and make my body twitch.

"Now," she said, running her hands over my chest and playing lightly with my nipple rings, "we do have to shave you."

"You can't be serious," I managed to say past the slow roll of her hips.

"Oh, I am, and you agreed, lover-boy."

"What are the rest of the rules?"

She smirked. "You don't chicken out or make me cut you, and you don't cum, and you get to fuck me. You do, and I get to fuck you."

I looked her straight in the eyes. "Deal."

With a half-smirk on her face, she reached out, turning her head to orientate herself, and turned the tap on, splashed some water into the mug, put it down to turn the tap off, then dumped the brush in the mug and picked it up, bringing it between us and holding it between her breasts.

And all the time, as she was leaning and twisting and shifting her balance, her legs were compensating and as her leg muscles worked to keep her balanced, her internal muscles twitched, squeezed and rubbed as well, as sweat broke out on my suddenly burning face and the muscles in my torso locked.

She lathered up the brush, holding the mug against her chest to give herself enough room between us - I could see why she wanted my hips forwards in the chair, now - and tilted her head from side to side to look at my jaw, looking for the first time as though she was concentrating on what she was about to do.

I concentrated very hard on keeping my head absolutely still, knowing exactly how sharp a cut-throat razor was.

She lathered my face quickly and surely as she rolled her hips from side to side, a slow, silky caress of my cock even through the condom. I managed to relax, breathing evenly and smoothly.

"You know how to do this properly, then," I managed to get out in an almost normal tone of voice.

"I'm a hairdresser. We had an old barber train us how to do this."

Okay, then. That was immensely reassuring. "Aren't there supposed to be hot towels involved?"

"Call me impatient."

I had my eyes closed as she swirled the brush into my skin, an automatic reaction whenever anyone gets anywhere near them. So I felt her switch to a brisk brushing motion, then I felt her stop.

I heard a chink as she put the mug back on the counter, and I opened my eyes in time to see the mirror-bright razor blade right in front of my face as she presented it to me. My gut involuntarily clenched again and I nearly went cross-eyed.

I saw the predatory gleam in her eye a second before she clenched hard around my cock, making me exhale violently and all the muscles above my waist clench hard so I didn't twitch.

"Ooh, I am so going to enjoy this," she said gloatingly. "Now tip your head back and hold still."

The rope through my hair was already holding my head back, but I did as I was told and closed my eyes again, willing myself to relax and let all sensations just flow through me, not affecting me ...

My cock wasn't listening.

She slowly rolled her hips around me, not squeezing, just rolling me inside her.

I had to inhale deeply, thinking stationary thoughts at my neck muscles, and nearly jumped when I felt the cold razor touch me in front of my left ear.

She giggled as she slowly drew the razor across my cheek, working it down in short strokes, making little sound through the sparse hairs that constitute my not-sideburns, and gave my cock a sudden squeeze halfway.

I did not make her cut me.

"How much blood have you spilt doing this?" I gasped out when she lifted the razor off.

"Oh, you think I've done this before?"

"I'd be a lot more worried if I thought you hadn't!"

"Point. I've met some boys with quite poor self-control."

I was going to say something to that, but the way she shifted on my lap warned me to shut up and keep still a second before the razor landed just in front of my right ear.

She didn't move my head for me and I didn't dare do anything except keep still.

As she started drawing the razor down the right side of my face, she started a pulsing clench-and-release over my entire cock, sending spikes of pleasure through me that slowly grew in intensity, from sweet to sweet agony, before she reached my beard and stopped once more.

She begun humming under her breath, a bright and playful version of More by The Sisters.

I took it as a warning.

"Keep your head back," she said in a sing-song voice, tickling her fingers down my chest. I didn't need telling, but I managed to swallow any retort I felt like making.

Swallowing made me acutely aware of what it did to my throat, just before she started there.

She clenched herself hard around me, harder than she had so far, and held it for the entire upward stroke of the razor, sending a constant rush of burning sweetness right through me.

She did not cut me.

She didn't relax until she had done the other side of my neck.

"Now do you see why this'll be worth it?" She asked me playfully, as I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding, and started gasping for air.

She kissed me hard, sealing off my mouth, and expertly pinched my nose shut as well. I was seeing stars and nearly choking before she pulled back and let me suck in lungfuls of air.

As I was gratefully filling my lungs again, she started working on my beard.

I was breathing so heavily through my nose I almost inhaled the shaving soap as she briskly disposed of bristle that had grown out to a number 3 or 4 length.

I keep my eyes shut, trying to meditate, as she stilled her hips - to concentrate on what she was doing, I hoped - and carefully finished with my chin before switching to my upper lip.

In the middle of that, with my cock gripped firmly inside her velvet heaven and with her hard, pierced nipples brushing against my chest, the most agonising torture was a building and excruciating itch in my nose.

I had to hold it without twitching, without wrinkling my nose or upper lip and without, at all costs, sneezing.

I had to hold my breath and nearly passed out before she pulled back, scrubbed a towel across my mouth and said "Finished!" In a surprised and disappointed tone of voice.

"I ab aboud ..." I began, on the verge of losing control.

She threw the towel over my face a second before I sneezed so explosively I nearly jolted her off me.

The towel ended up on her breasts for a second before her helpless laughter jolted it off.

"No blood?" I asked, as calmly as I could.

"No blood," she admitted, wiping tears off her eyes.

"And I didn't cum."

"You didn't cum." She didn't seem disappointed by that, but there was a definite air of resignation about her.

"Well, then," I said, looking her right in the eye.

She stared back at me with narrowed eyes for a moment, then sighed and stood up, pulling off me with a faint sucking sound, and undoing the ankle restraints before walking around behind me, untying my hair and undoing the ankle cuffs.

She stepped back to the side of the chair as I took my time standing up and rubbing my ankles and slowly rolling tension out of my shoulders, my cock still wearing the condom and still as hard as a rock in front of me.

She held the rope out to me with her wrists pressed together. "You get to fuck me," she said with notes of challenge, defiance, and resignation in her voice.

I took the rope but stepped into her, pushing her hands down. She didn't step back.

"Is there a time limit on that?" I asked.

Her face took on a slightly wary, slightly uncertain look.

"Tonight?" She said, after a pause.

"Good, because I believe we have a lot of tonight ahead of us, and I believe I saw viagra in your cabinet. And are there any other limits on tonight?"

"My safe-word is nevermore," she said, with a hint of challenge back in her voice.

"Good." I pushed her suddenly back against the sink, but with my arm around her lower back so she wouldn't bruise. Then I pushed her hands back to brace herself on the edge of the sink, and reached down to grab her left knee and pull it up so her foot rested easily, despite her height, next to her hand.

"Don't move," I whispered into her face with my hand sliding up between her breasts to sit gently around her neck. By bending at the knees, I could slide straight into her.

She gasped, lifting up onto tiptoe as I bottomed out inside her.

I used my hand around her throat to keep her in that calf-straining position while I pulled out, then slammed into her again.

She gasped, jumped, and bit back a whimper.

I relented then, not wanting to bruise her too early.

I began fucking her fast, choosing my depth and angle to get the most pleasure for me, holding her around the throat to keep her still but not squeezing, my cock so hard for so long it was nearly numb but with the position, and the power she had given me, and the way she was whimpering ...