AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then I guess I should behave.” When Ambrose pulled his touch and presence away, Barrett wanted to chase after him. Instead, he watched. He liked watching Ambrose, liked seeing those cogs turn as he went through his personal methodologies. His hands moved, but that was such a plan, uninteresting verb for what they did. They grasped and fluttered, gripped and danced, slid and twisted andtouched. Barrett could almost feel them on his skin, as if they’d never left.
Once they got a ratty blue towel around his neck and Ambrose pulled an old broom from the closet, he stood close, a pair of scissors dangling from his fingertips. “Ready?”
“Yes.” He gave Ambrose a smirk that meant trouble. “Sure you won’t miss the beard?”
“Why do you think I’m not touching your hair?”
“Fair enough.” Barrett laughed and lay back in the chair. “Do your worst.”
Cutting off the long, scraggly ends of his beard went quickly. When Ambrose focused, it was almost entrancing to watch. His eyes narrowed, he pursed his lips, and he fell silent in a way that felt meditative. Ambrose’s touch was easy and Barrett let himself sink into the feeling of being cared for. It was strange at first but when Ambrose touched his shoulder and said, “Relax. I’ve got you,” Barrett finally let his spine press into the chair’s pillowy back and eased the tension from his neck.
The scissors clicked and clicked, the only other background noises were Dandi’s soft snoring and the pop of the fireplace. He felt the weight of his own hair lift from his face, the air in the bathroom warm on skin that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. “We might have to do a couple of rounds to get your skin soft enough to shave.” A palm ran up his cheek then down, over his jaw, and it made him suck in a deep breath. Those fingertips left little tingling trails in their wake, sending goosebumps down his arms.
He knew things like this could beintimate. But he’d never attributed the worderoticto anything like this. Hell, had he ever even used that word before now? But there was a flash of silver in his periphery and he saw the towel over his chest covered in his own thick, curly beard hair and Ambrose standing above him, holding up a straight razor. A simple, incredibly sharp blade, the dark green lacquered handle poking out above and below his fist.
Barrett couldn’t take his eyes off that gleaming blade. “I’m suddenly questioning my sanity here.”
Ambrose’s laugh was warm and comforting, even if he was poking fun at him a little. “I’ve done this before, just never on someone with so much hair. So…” He tapped his chin with the other hand, gaze going from Barrett to the little cart, then to the sink. “Let’s do this. Take off your shirt and tie your hair up, so I don’t accidentally cut your hair when I’m doing your neck.”
A blade against his neck. Held by those long, thin fingers. That absolutely should not be hot and yet… “Right, okay.” Barrett shoved out of the chair and set about following instructions while Ambrose filled the sink with hot water and started pouring thick, gold oil into little bowls. Gods, he could watch Ambrose do this all day, tinkering around with pots and jars and bottles, every movement elegant but precise.
“So, gin or bourbon?”
Barrett yanked his head out of the neck of his sweatshirt and turned to see Ambrose swirling a brush through something thick and white in a small pot. “What now?”
“After we get your skin warmed up with a hot towel and we wait for the oil to settle into the pores, I was going to offer a drink.” His smile turned sheepish, unsure. “But I’ve only got gin and bourbon and I know you usually go for whisky.”
That hand moved in slow, even circles and something zipped down Barrett’s spine. He was not going to survive this. With another yank, he pulled his arms out of his shirt. “Gin’s more than fine.”
“Tonic water and lime?” Ambrose’s words came slower now as he raked his gaze over Barrett’s chest.
“Yeah, that’s good.” He took the little stretchy band Ambrose offered him and reached up, pulling his hair out of his face and off his neck.
“Jesus Christ.” It was no more than a mutter but he heard it nonetheless. Ambrose’s stare was blatant now. Hungry. “I didn’t know you had those tattoos.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re so old I usually forget about them.” Barrett pulled on the ends of his hair, tightening the queue. He looked down at the coiled blue dragon on his right ribs and, without thinking, hitched the edge of his waistband down a few inches so Ambrose could see the tail disappear into it. “This was the first one and Val said it was gonna suck getting it on my ribs and hip.” He shot Ambrose a wide smile. “It sucked. Like ten times worse than I thought it would. But it’s true what they say.”
He tracked the bob of Ambrose’s throat before he responded with, “What’s that?”
“You get one, you’ll get another. And another.” He ran his right hand up over his left shoulder, following the darkly shaded wing there. “Turns out one becomes…eight at this point.”
The way Ambrose was looking at him made a shiver skate down his spine. Normally he was the one teasing, leading. And he was definitely teasing, but in his own matter-of-fact kind of way. Ambrose was looking at him like he was a goddamn meal and it made him feelwanted. “I see four. I spotted the ones on your wrists before.”
“Oh yeah, got one on each calf and each thigh.” He pointed to Ambrose’s neck. “I’m curious about that one myself.”
“I’ll let you continue to be curious.” Did Ambrose’s next breath shudder? Just a bit? Barrett felt something click into place in his gut; a little self-satisfaction that feltgood. “We were in the middle of something.”
And Ambrose became all business, getting Barrett back into the chair, clipping off more facial hair, as close as he dared to get to the skin. Every time Ambrose leaned down and Barrett got a whiff of clean laundry and the little drops of soft, citrusy oil that had sunk into Ambrose’s fingertips, he had to grip the armrests. If he touched Ambrose now, that would be it. End of story, fade to black, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got his mouth and hands on every inch of that lean body.
So he let the other man be kind and focused and careful. The scissors were eventually put away and Ambrose brought over a hot towel. “I’m gonna set this on you and then go get your drink.”
“Okay.”
Ambrose’s smile was some kind of sensuous, indulgent thing that made his stomach swoop. “Relax. This will feel so good.”
Barrett closed his eyes and felt the towel, just on the edge of too warm, be placed over his cheeks and chin and mouth, leaving his nose uncovered. Ambrose pressed the cloth down, wrapping the ends loosely around his neck and draping them over his shoulders. He sighed and slumped more into the chair and then Ambrose was gone with a pat to his shoulder.
When Ambrose’s footsteps grew distant, Barrett sighed heavily. He needed these minutes to let his ardor cool the fuck down. There was no way Ambrose hadn’t seen the growing ridge in his jeans but he’d mercifully not said anything.
