He set the sponge aside and reached for the razor. I tensed, but only a little. He must’ve felt it, because he stroked my thigh until I was loose again.
“Pass me the shaving cream from the ledge,” he said, voice all calm command. “Lean back. I’ve got you.”
I did as I was told. I didn’t even care what he planned. If he wanted to shave me, he could. Maybe I liked the idea. Maybe I liked that I didn’t have to think at all.
He worked carefully, spreading the cream up my jaw, then under my chin. The touch was so gentle I almost shivered. He started with the safety razor, slow strokes, never dragging, never hurting. It was almost like being petted, over and over, until the edges of me went soft.
Felix was calm, controlled, and the simple fact was I trusted him. He cupped my jaw, tipping my head so my throat was stretched out, and I could feel his cock thick and hard against my lower back. He didn’t say anything about it, and I tried to pretend I wasn’t completely gone for him, but my own cock was pushing up out of the bubbles, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to hide it.
He smiled, but it wasn’t a mean smile. It was proud. Possessive.
“Hold still for me,” he murmured, voice all velvet.
I did. His hand was so big it nearly spanned my whole neck, but he never squeezed, just steadied me when the razor came close. The shaving cream was warm, the blade even warmer, and he went so slowly it felt like he was memorizing every inch. I could feel my pulse under his palm. The drag of the blade was barely there, more ghost than touch, but my cock was leaking into the bubbles, and I was desperate for more, more touch, more whispers, more commands.
He moved behind me, beard scratching against my shoulder, and kissed the spot at my nape that always made me melt. “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at how good you’re being for me.” He sounded almost hungry. I nearly whimpered.
He finished and put away the blade, wiping my face, but kept one hand on my throat, and his other slipped under the water, slow and sure. I didn’t expect him to touch me—not like that—not when I was a mess, but his palm wrapped around my cock, steady and tight, and I nearly lost it right then.
“Shhh,” he whispered, mouth hot on my ear. “Just let go. I’ll take care of it all.”
His hand was so gentle on my cock it made my toes curl. He didn’t rush me. He just stroked, slow and steady, thumb circling the tip, slick with precum and hot water. I was making noises I didn’t recognize, half sob, half plea, and he just murmured praise, not letting me hide.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful. My good boy.”
His praise went straight through me. I wanted to be perfect for him. I wanted him to see how much I needed this.
I started to lose it. My hips jerked, and I tried to apologize, but he just stroked me harder, relentless, making sure I had nothing left to give. The bubbles hid everything but the ache in my belly and the way my cock pulsed in his grip.
“Come for me,” he murmured, right in my ear. “Now. Let go.”
I did. I came so hard I thought I might pass out. Every nerve in my body went bright white, the kind of pleasure that had teeth, and I just let it take me. There was nothing left in me but the feel of Felix’s hand working me through it, the low sound he made when I sagged back against his chest, boneless, spent.
He didn’t push. He just held me, his palm wide and steady on my chest, the other hand still cupping my jaw like I was something precious. I could feel the thump of his heart through my back, slow and grounding, and it was all I could do to keep breathing.
I was shaking, but not like before. This was different. Like my body didn’t quite know what to do, now that I was spent and safe and held so tight I couldn’t fall apart even if I tried.
Felix kissed the side of my neck, beard scratchy but warm. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You’re perfect. Just like this. My good boy.”
I didn’t have words. Didn’t need them, really. I just let myself float, soaking in the heat and the bubbles and the way Felix made everything feel smaller, softer, easier to carry.
He must’ve known I was close to dropping, because he just stroked my arms and let me drift. The water was cooling a little, but I didn’t want to move. Not ever, if I could help it.
Eventually, he nudged me, careful. “Let’s get you rinsed and out, sweetheart. Don’t want you getting cold.”
I knew Felix hadn’t come, and I wanted desperately to give that to him. I wanted it so bad my teeth ached. I was shaking, but not from the come-down, not from the bath, or even from the way Felix’s hands steadied me under the bubbles. It was the thought of him, still hard, cock so thick and hot against my back, and the need to please him burned through me, sweet and desperate and sharp.
But I was scared. Terrified, really. That if I asked, he’d laugh. Or worse, he’d tell me I didn’t have to—that I’d done enoughalready, and he’d just take care of it himself. That it would be easier for him if he didn’t have to deal with me at all. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t know how to say the words and not sound pathetic.
I thought back to the times we’d been intimate and knew Felix had gotten off but not because of something I’d done, and failure settled over me like a dark cloud.
He moved behind me, shifting so the water sloshed up over my thighs. His cock pressed against the small of my back, and I sucked in a breath, trying to hold completely still so I didn’t make it weird.
But Felix wasn’t bothered. Not even a little. He reached for the showerhead, started to drain the water. Rinsed the last of the bubbles off my chest, and then wrapped a towel around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You did well,” he murmured, and the praise went straight to my head, but it didn’t alter facts.
He stood, water dripping down his own legs, and helped me out of the tub like I weighed nothing. The air was cold, but his hands were everywhere, drying me off slow and careful, like I was breakable. He didn’t let go, even when he had to reach for another towel, just kept me anchored with one big hand at my hip.
I wanted to drop to my knees so bad it hurt. I wanted to take him in my mouth, show him I was good, that I could be useful. But the memory of Jason’s words hung in the back of my mind, sour and heavy.You’re not even a real sub, you know that? Just a needy, whiny mess.
