still,” Jonathan said, dropping down
to one knee beneath the shower spray.
Well, fuck.
No fucking way.
Jonathan held Bran’s dick out of the way with one hand and lifted
the razor with the other.
Bran jerked back.
“Brandon,” Jonathan said, slow and warning, but hey, at least
he hadn’t said Nine. He sat back on his heels, looked up at Bran,
water streaming over his shoulders and fal ing in fat drops from his
eyelashes. Fuck, his eyes were blue. “You’re a smart man,” he said, and
it seemed downright surreal to be lectured by a wet man on his knees
and yet here they were. “I know you remember my rules.”
Bran nodded, unsure of whether he was supposed to speak.
“Tell me what they are.”
“Don’t speak out of turn.”
Jonathan nodded. “And?”
Bran took a deep breath, another, thought about the money.
“And obey every order, without question or hesitation. Don’t make
you repeat yourself.”
Another nod. “And what happens if you break my rules?”
“You punish me,” Bran spat, lip curling in disgust. He wasn’t
some fucking childto be lectured, patronized, turned over someone’s
knee and spanked.
“So you see where this leaves us,” Jonathan said.
“Let me guess. On nine.”
A little smile, more in the eyes than on Jonathan’s lips. “That
too, yes. And I won’t force you”—he held up the razor in the general
vicinity of Bran’s crotch—“but this? Is non-negotiable. You have a
safeword, of course; use it if you must, but I know you don’t need it
now, and I get understandably tetchy when my subs abuse my trust
about something that important. What we have here is a simple case
of pride, yes?”
Bran wasn’t sure he could answer with anything but Fuck you , so
he held his tongue.
“That’s ten, and yes, I see: pride indeed. Tell me, Brandon, why
don’t you want me to shave your pubes?”
Bran glared down at him, bit back another Fuck you. “Because it’s
ridiculous. ”
Jonathan pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows. “Humiliating, you
mean? Embarrassing for you?”
No shit. Even talking about it brought heat to his cheeks that had
nothing to do with the shower. “Yeah, I guess. Won’t it itch, too?”
“A little,” Jonathan conceded. “Which is why we’ll wax next time.
But that’s a bit much for day one, don’t you think?”
Wax? Fuck that. No fucking way was Jonathan coming anywhere
near his crotch with hot wax.
“I see you think you’ll find a way out of that one too, but you
won’t.” A statement of fact. Calm, assured, even a little bemused.
Like he thought he knew fucking everything . “Do you remember,” he
asked, “how we talked about tearing down barriers and walls? About
trusting me? About breaking you of all the destructive thoughts and
habits that prevent you from realizing your true potential?”
“Yeah,” he conceded.
“Yes , Jonathan ,” Jonathan corrected. “And eleven, by the way; I’ve
let that slide too much already. Would you care to go for twelve?”
“No, Jonathan,” Bran groused. Added, at Jonathan’s raised
eyebrow, “I remember talking about all that stuff, yes, Jonathan.”
“Well, this is part of it. So either you trust and obey me now, or
you leave and we call the whole thing off.”
Well, that was no choice at all again, was it. Bran let his head
thunk back against the shower wal , covered his face with both hands,
and spread his legs.
Jonathan soaped Bran back up, gentler this time. Reward for
obeying, perhaps? Though he knew it was coming, the first touch of
the razor against his groin made him twitch. Good thing Jonathan
had started nowhere near the particularly sensitive bits.
“Hold still,” Jonathan warned. Another scrape, terribly
uncomfortable, tugging some hairs out at the root like when he tried
to shave a beard after letting it get bushy. He tensed his ass and thighs
and belly to keep himself from squirming, sucked in a sharp breath
when
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