Lucian sat at the edge of the stone slab, barefoot, wearing nothing but his shirt as she worked on the button of his trousers. The button popped open under her fingers. The fabric loosened.
She pulled the pants down his thighs, along with his undergarments, revealing his lower body to the cold air, along with the hard-on that sprung out. A trail of blond hair led from his navel to the base.
"Spread your legs," she instructed, and he complied.
Raising his hips, he let her remove the clothes and use them as a cushion for her knees. She tore her eyes away from him, dipped a towel in the bucket of water, squeezed it until her knuckles turned white, and pressed it on his lower stomach. The coldness made him suck in a breath.
Fanning over his skin with her breath, she removed the goosebumps that rose on his flesh and left him throbbing for more than a simple wipe.
She took the shaving cream and applied it to his skin, rubbing it with her fingers just above his shaft. The earlier threat on her face vanished.
"Careful..." Lucian's hand reached between his legs, wrapping his hand around his shaft, ready to protect it from her.
"I am. Keep still," she whispered, picking up the razor.
She held his skin taut with her free hand, and began to shave his pubic hair. He was not a piece of art to be admired, but her touches were gentle as if he was.
The blade moved. It scraped the hair and cream off his skin, leaving a clean patch behind. She wiped the blade clean on the towel, before continuing the nerve wrecking work, which felt more like teasing than grooming.
Slouched over her, Lucian watched her hands work like a strict teacher overlooking his student's work. If not for the tense air and the unspoken desire between them, it would have been a more enjoyable moment.
"You have a lot of hair down here, always itching my chin whenever..." she trailed off, her eyes dropping to the tip of his shaft, a drop of liquid forming on the tip.
The buzzing in his stomach intensified like a swarm of hornets. He squeezed himself just so slightly, afraid that any sudden movement would make her cut him, "Don't cut me."
"I won't," she mumbled, bringing the razor back to his skin.
It was a slow and torturous process, and the way their knuckles touched made it even worse. His stomach muscles clenched. Every. Single. Time.
She kept applying the right pressure, angling the razor properly. It did not help. More friction. He needed more friction. But her focus was solely on removing the hair, not pleasing him.
Every touch only made him more aware of his need for her. The way she held him showed how familiar she was with his body and how soft she could be when she put her mind to it.
"You missed a spot," he said, tilting his hips to show her the underside.
"I swear, your brain is not in your head," she cussed as she rinsed her razor. She went for another round, cupping his balls to get to the hard to reach places, removing the remaining hair.
Finally. Putting aside the razor, she wiped off the excess cream and hair with a wet towel. "How can you be this hard in this situation? Even dreams should have limits."
His golden eyes stared down at her, not falling for her taunts. Especially when it came to his body's reactions to her, "Dreams don't have limits. They make fantasies come true."
He let go of his shaft to have her wipe the rest of the cream off him.
Bitting her inner cheek, she seemed to hesitate to go further, despite the fact that she had done it countless times before. The difference was that this time, she wasn't supposed to be touching him, according to her own delusion. He was messing up her mourning process, he could tell.
Her palm only traced the shaved area, "Feel for yourself. I'm done," before placing her hands on her knees like a well-behaved woman, as oddly as that looked.
Was she trying to appear innocent? In a cave where she lured him to his death? She had a tendency to do this when her conscience was eating at her.
With the foam out of his groin hair, Lucian gave himself a glimpse. He was not used to having no hair down there. The sight should have killed his arousal, but instead, it sharpened it, which made no sense. He didn't like what he saw. At all. "..."
His shaft and balls were clear on sight, with no hair to hide them.
"You don't like it?"
"What have you done…my manhood...I look like a child..." Hairs were a sign of manliness and she took it away from him, giving him back his prepubescent looks. "What have you done?"
What if she wouldn't want to touch him like this? What led him to believe it was a good idea? She was right, his brain was not in his head.
She blinked at his horror stricken expression before giving her handiwork a second feel, "Very smooth..." her hand moving on her own, petting his skin like a cat, "I didn't think it would look so..."
He was not in a mood to be teased about it, so he leaned over to pull up his pants.
"Are you not going to take care of it?"
"You don't want to touch it, so why should I?" He got off the slab, pulling his pants up, but her hand stopped him. He looked down at her, his chest rising up and down.
"Why don't you touch yourself?" she asked again, tracing a vein up his length with her fingertip. "I want to watch."
"Another time...mhm..." Her hand didn't wait for his answer. It wrapped around him, moving him back to the slab, and sitting him down.
He bent his head to kiss her, but she moved away, stopping him. She kneeled between his legs again, her hand pumping him.
"Why don't you touch yourself when I tell you to?"
Lucian let out a deep breath, dropping his pants to the ground, "It doesn't feel the same. I need your touch...mhmm," he bit his lips, "...it makes me melt. It makes me forget everything...and just...feel."
She put her other hand on his chest to stop him from leaning in, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling it to his lips instead. He kissed her palm, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.