chiseled features softened only a little by your beard. Your stern gaze was somehow still full of compassion. You understood my nature and accepted me, weaknesses and all.
“I’m good,” I said once the craving had mostly passed.
You nodded and gave an encouraging smile. Only you understood the effort it took for me to resist. I wanted to make you proud.
Then it was time to rinse and shampoo my hair again. I felt better with your hand on my skull, physically subduing me. With you in control, I could relax and let down my guard. When that was done, you draped a towel over my wet head and gently massaged it dry, then told me to stand up and take a look. The change was kind of alarming. My crow-black hair was now shockingly white.
“Looks a little gray,” I said. I’d wanted to look older but not geriatric.
“Silver.” You tugged a lock between your fingers.
“Do you like it?”
You smiled as if pleased with your work. “It’s very becoming.” Your voice was so rough and sexy. Did you even know what it did to me?
“Do you think I’m handsome?” I turned away from the mirror and toward you, holding my breath.
“Devastatingly so,” you said with a long sigh.
Your finger was on my chin, tilting my face upward. I closed my eyes, so that I wouldn’t be tempted to seduce you. Your nose brushed against mine, ever so softly, and then your lips pressed against my forehead, one of my eyelids and then the other. A benediction.
“Henri,” I whimpered. Kiss me, I almost begged, but I didn’t want to scare you.
Your thumb pressed against my lower lip, tugging gently, and my lips parted, because I wanted to be ready. Just in case. My eyelids fluttered, and I told myself to be still, like prey. Be patient and wait for you to act. Because you were almost there. And I wanted it—wanted you so badly. But you had to be the one to initiate it.
And then your mouth was on mine. So gentle and pure. I’d never known you to be this timid. Your beard tickled my chin as my lips pressed against yours. Your body was hard, but your mouth was so soft. My chest warmed, and I shivered from your touch.
And then you really kissed me, with the full force of your capable lips. My greedy little tongue poked out, and you answered with your own, suddenly inside my mouth, and demanding. I opened wide, careful to keep my teeth out of the way. I wanted all of it—your scent, your spit, your liquid tongue. My skin was so hungry for you to satisfy me as a sense of rightness came over me.
The piece of you that was missing all along.
Those weren’t my words… were they? I inched closer and wrapped my arms around your neck. I needed your strength and solidness. I wanted you to tell me with your touch who I was in this moment, and who I might one day become. Could I be yours? Had I been all along?
Your hand pressed firmly against my lower back, lifting me up, drawing me closer. You were hard—brutally so—as your erection ground into my hip almost painfully. I shifted so that our cocks lined up. I rubbed against you and felt echoes of a fierce and blinding pleasure. A pressure that built as it invaded, forceful and tender all at once. I didn’t question the phantom sensation, only moaned my desire into your mouth.
And then you pulled away, stepped back, and left me hanging like a sheet flapping in the wind. Your eyes rose guiltily to meet mine.
“No,” I said with both my palms flattened against your chest—you were as breathless as me. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me. I liked it, Henri. I wanted it and more.”
You looked pained, and I could see your guilt spiraling in real time.
“I’m your apprentice, aren’t I?” I asked, grasping at straws. “Why can’t you show me these things too?” I reached up to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I need a good teacher. Someone who will keep me safe, from myself and others.”
“It’s not right,” you said mournfully, but maybe you only needed a little more convincing.
“Who else is there for me? I need someone who can rein me in when my thirst becomes too much. Someone who can predict my every move. If this is something we both want, why fight it?”