Of Hesitation and Doubt (Part 4) End.

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Direct continuation of part 3 of this story. Please read previous parts for context. This is the final part of this story, so to whoever enjoyed reading this, thank you! Expect more stories soon.

-Fantasy Weaver

Warnings: Foul Language, Adult Themes, Non-Consensual Haircut. 

 

Of Hesitation and Doubt (Part 4)

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Theo laid there, head tilted upwards towards Dante’s ominous expression, for a minute as his mind played catch-up with what the barber had just suggested.

“Wha…what?”

A row of straight white teeth appeared as Dante’s lips parted into a smug grin. Theo swallowed thickly, the smirk not inspiring confidence within him. He suddenly had an urge to cover the denuded top of his head. His hand twitched where it rested on the armrest. He bit the inside of his lip nervously, pupils contracting to tiny pinpricks as Dante continued to smirk down at him like a predator ready to pounce its prey.

The barber laughed. Low and merciless. Theo gripped the cushion beneath his fingers. He shook his head, “Stop laughing” he sounded quietly.

He did, but the smirk stayed firmly in place. A fine silver brow raised curiously, the silver head tilting mockingly. “Why?” He questioned lightly, fingers caressing Theo’s scalp, making him shiver. “Don’t you want to see what you look like?”

No. He didn’t. He knew that if he saw himself now he would want to crawl into some dark hole somewhere and die from the sight. Dante laughed again, amused by the look of terror on Theo’s face. “Please…” he begged.

Dante bent forward, lips ghosting over his ear. “Remember,” he reminded Theo, “I get to do what I please, because you wanted me to.” Dante, slowly starting to feel the effects of dragging this out as long as possible, turned his head slightly, and let his tongue glide lecherously along the shell of the other’s ear. Theo shuddered violently, eyes pinched shut. The barber’s dark voice continued relentlessly, “So suck it up.”

Before Theo could protest -or beg for further leniency- Dante stood from his stool and pushed it back in the middle of the shop, and proceeded to swiftly crank the lever to put the chair back in a sitting position.

The book store manager gasped, eyes averting to his lap quickly, before he could look in the mirror, as the barber lowered the head rest in quick fashion.

Panic began to seize him in its cold, harsh grip as Theo stared into his lap, feeling completely vulnerable with Dante hovering menacingly over him. He didn’t want to see himself. Of that, he was absolutely certain. Dying seemed a far more tempting prospect.

Dante crouched down beside him, left elbow resting on the edge of the chair. Theo kept his eyes firmly fixed on his caped legs, unwilling to, unable to move.

But Dante’s firm grip on his chin had him nearly crying out in desperation as his head was lifted forcefully to look at his reflection. No! He closed his eyes, praying to some higher power that the barber would let go, would laugh at him and tell him that he could keep looking at his lap if he wanted, that he had no obligation to look at the carnage on his head.

He felt the man’s head lean against his, his grip unyielding. “Open your eyes,” he instructed clearly.

Theo closed his eyes tighter still. He shook his head.

“Come now,” Dante used a more gentle approach this time, the hand he gripped his chin with giving him a few rubs with his thumb. His honeyed tone conveyed a sense of trust within Theo, but he knew that the saccharine words were nothing but a sticky trap, one he desperately tried to avoid falling into. “You look so handsome, why not take a peek? After all, even if you keep your eyes closed, it won’t make it disappear. And…” his thumb dug into his cheek, the sweetness of Dante’s voice dissolving into bitter, dripping poison, “If you don’t open your eyes, I’ll leave you looking like this and drag you out into the shop in front of everyone.”

Theo’s hand flew to his mouth without his conscious consent, to somehow stop the aroused sound coming up his throat.

The barber’s grip on his face disappeared, the iron-tight hold shifting lightning-fast to the dark haired man’s wrist.

The taller man nuzzled his palm, and Theo bit his lip viciously. The sweet voice Dante had used made a reappearance as he continued steadily, “So open your eyes, and take a good, long look at yourself.”

Theo grit his teeth. Dante wasn’t going to drop this, was he?

“Look.”

His eyelids parted despite himself.

His irises focused on his reflection in the mirror just as Dante placed his hand back on the armrest.

Wanting to curl up in a ball and die? Please, if a tear in space-time could end his very EXISTENCE, he would be happy.

How terribly arousing and horrible it was, to look at himself in this humiliating display. The top part of his head, from his hairline to his crown, had been completely reduced to stubble. Only the sides and back were untouched, the less than one inch strands of his previous outgrown haircut. If he had disliked the haircut Dante had given him last time, then he absolutely loathed the thing he had done to him now.

And yet, even as he thought that, he couldn’t help but feel so completely aroused by the sight. That is, until he saw how Dante was looking at him.

That smug expression was painted firmly over his features, his grey eyes shining with sadistic pleasure at having ruined his hair for good.

The mortification of sitting there, while Dante now rubbed his hand over the bald spot, nearly did make Theo pass out. But his embarrassment only increased in severity when he felt himself hardening fully in the confines of his pants. Eyes wide, he glanced at the barber’s eyes, finding them to be staring directly at his crotch.

Oh Lord. He glanced down. It showed.

A furious blush marred his features when Dante asked with an indecent tone, “Oh, Theo, are you enjoying the humiliation that much?”

This time, he did bury his face in his hands, legs crossing self-consciously to hide the evidence of his arousal. ‘Kill me now’ he begged in his mind, his face growing redder as Dante laughed at his expense.

The barber moved in front of chair then, and took hold of his flustered client’s hands. “No, no, no,” he chided, taking the hands out of Theo’s flushed face, “Hands on the armrests, just like we agreed.”

Theo took a ragged breath, and another, and another, and soon enough he was making himself light-headed with how panicked his breathing had gotten. His chest heaved, his eyes stared at his covered lap, the cape wrinkled where his legs crossed. His vision began to blur, greying at the periphery. He panted harder, faster, until all he could think about was-

His breath caught in his throat.

Dante’s face was as close as it had ever been. His stormy eyes gazed calmly into his wide, gold-flecked green ones.

There was pressure on his mouth.

The barber’s face retreated.

The pressure on his mouth ceased.

“Let’s continue,” Dante suggested, his voice lulling a sense of calm back into Theo’s being. “Just concentrate on how it feels.”

Theo didn’t have time to register exactly what happened in those three seconds, where the barber’s face had pressed against his own, as Dante had switched the big clipper in his hand for the small, battery operated one.

A quiet gasp left his lips when Dante brought the whirring clipper to his head, and he watched, hypnotized, his reflection in the mirror. The taller man passed the clipper around the edges of the bald spot, redefining the circumference of the site of destruction.

He did this carefully, grey eyes completely focused on removing any strand of hair he deemed was out of line. Theo could do nothing but watch, hands gripping the armrests, face remaining that annoyingly vibrant shade of red as this happened. Dante made small passes near the edges, all around, each stroke freeing a few hairs that fell to the cape.

Those proud lips were still smiling, Theo noted with a bit of salt. He worked on his head like he was some artist creating a masterpiece, ensuring that every detail of said masterpiece was exactly as he wanted them. Theo shifted, his legs becoming sore from crossing them over his persisting arousal, and when he did, the barber’s elegant left hand steadied his head with a light grip of his fingers.

It was while Dante defined the shape of the nude patch on his scalp that Theo finally thought about what the man had done, before, when he had started breathing so hard the world felt like it had been ready to fade from existence.

Had Dante…kissed him?

The notion stuck in his mind, and soon his eyes became unfocused on the mirror. He had, hadn’t he? In fact, he could still feel his lips tingling where the barber had pressed his own, proud, warm lips against his trembling ones.

Unbidden his right hand reached out to touch his lips, dumbfounded.

Dante didn’t stop him this time.

In fact, the barber was looking intently at his poor patron as he finished up the contour of his work. He watched the way shaking fingertips rubbed against slightly open lips, watched green eyes lose their focus as their owner processed what had happened.

The taller man said nothing. He turned the small clipper off, observing with increasing interest as Theo struggled to comprehend the barber’s actions.

Theo snapped his hand back down when Dante moved back to the station. He would have to have to confront Dante about the kiss later, as the man was clearly intent on continuing. Dante picked up a new tool then, one that held resemblance to a clipper, Theo thought, but was considerably larger and flatter. The rectangular tool was white, with a red triangle detail. He could just make out the words “Andis” above the detail.

Dante moved, bending slightly to show him the tool, having probably seen him peering at it curiously. Upon closer inspection, there were two metallic, brass-colored cylindrical rows, each of which bore hundreds of tiny holes.

He bit his lip. “What’s that for?” The question was barely above a whisper.

Dante snorted, moving behind the chair. “To tease you.”

Oh. Alright.

The barber took no time in turning it on, and soon, a relatively quiet, high pitched whirring came from it. Dante held his head, the hand with the tool bringing it to the clipped part of his head.

The sound grew in intensity, and Theo felt like squirming in his seat. The thing was vibrating against his skull, creating a load of new tingling sensations on its path. The tool passed in quick strokes over his scalp, and the book keeper sighed as he watched. It felt good, despite the unpleasant sound, and the embarrassing view of his head.

He watched Dante drag the thing back and forth on his head for a while, eyes drooping tiredly as the sensation slowly started to replace the panic and terror from before. He could see the skin of his head move slightly with every pass, could feel his scalp shifting as the barber pressed the vibrating tool delightfully against his clipped crown.

If he looked carefully, he could see that the dark stubble that had been the only remnants of his hair got shorter with every stroke. But no flurry of tiny hairs fell to the cape.

After a few minutes of this, the barber turned the tool off, plunging the room into silence once again. He placed the thing back on the counter, in a charging port, and took up a spray bottle filled with water.

Wondering just exactly what the man was about to do, Theo got his answer by the sudden spritz along the back and sides of his head, along the only remaining ring of hair left on it. The grown out fade was moistened thoroughly by Dante’s spraying. The dark haired man closed his eyes as the spray neared his ear, and sighed contentedly when fingers raked through the short, wet strands with ease.

Theo followed Dante’s movements back to the barbering station, and saw him exchange the spray bottle for a small-toothed comb and that same pair of gleaming scissors that had first wrecked having on his -former- mane.

He cast a fleeting look at his lap again, willing the persistent bulge to soften and disappear. He couldn’t quite believe he was enjoying this. Even Dante had sounded surprised at his show of lust.

He recalled the barber’s first question when they had been alone in the room together; if he was afraid of him. He had been right to be afraid of what the man could make him feel. To get so excited over Dante humiliating him like this…

His eyes widened when Dante bent his head forward with a firm push of his hand atop his head. He tried not to concentrate on how that felt, having imagined a very similar scenario just last night about how good it might feel to have the man splay his hand over his shaved head. His eyes lifted to the barber’s reflection, gazing at him from beneath his lashes as his elegant hands stood at the ready, left one holding the comb horizontally, right one wielding his shears precisely.

The barber slid the comb along his nape, scissors snipping into time to the movement of the comb. Half an inch of dark hair clumps fell to Theo’s shoulders, gathering in the folds of the cape before sliding down the white fabric silently. He looked at himself in the mirror again, and cringed. The way his head was bent showed the perfect bald spot Dante had created.

Snip, snip, snip, the shears continued along their path, the scissors-over-comb technique being used all over his remaining hair. The barber had him lifting his head with a tap of his fingers against his chin, and the process continued around his right ear. The smaller man breathed steadily, captivate once more by how confidently Dante reduced the hair there, with not even a tiny bit of hesitation on his part. It was just comb, lift and cut, cut, cut. No stopping. The hands just worked the shears without ever faltering.

The same actions were repeated on his left side, until Dante bent his ear. He caught his lip between his teeth, breath hitching as the scissor’s blades slid across the thin skin behind his ear. The barber paid no mind to him and cut a perfect arch. He then continued this straight line down to his neck, doing the exact same finishing touch that he had done last time with the small clipper, only with his shears this time around.

Once another arch had been shaped around his other ear, and Dante examined the evenness of the humiliating cut, he put his tools back on the work station.

Theo took this time to shift around in the barber chair. Finally, it seemed that the tent in his pants was subsiding. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief, able to open his sore legs and place them back in a more comfortable position on the footrest.

“Close your eyes” came Dante’s deep voice.

He did, and felt the man brushing his neck, around his ears and on his face. His nose prickled at the sensation but otherwise he remained still. The brush was also applied to his shoulder, sending what little hair had gathered there into his lap.

The barber then held his chin between thumb and forefinger, lifting his head slightly. “Look at me” he told him.

He did, green eyes shining with worry as he stared into cool grey. Dante looked deep in thought, as though plotting his next move. Theo gulped. What else COULD he do, he dimly wondered with a twinge of fright.

The silver haired man’s left hand stroked across his scalp, and unbidden, Theo relaxed into the touch, eyes struggling to stay open. But he focused them back on Dante, half expecting the man to reprimand him over his inability to look him in the eye. To his surprise, the barber showed leniency, and instead the man opened his mouth to speak again, “Perhaps the top needs to come down a little more.”

‘Huh?’ Theo let the confusion etch into his face for Dante to see. He barely had anything left on top of his head to warrant taking it further down, so what other new, loud and purring tool would he produce to take away the last remaining dusting of hair on his scalp?

The answer came when Dante picked up his straight razor from its stand on the counter.

Oh.

He supposed his eyes must have spoken volumes, because Dante was laughing at him again. “Theo, if you knew how much I enjoy doing this to you, you would have more than just a little problem in your pants, that’s for sure,” he teased endlessly, putting the razor back where it had been.

The relief from his waning arousal before dissipated to nothing, as that simple statement brought it back to life, as if to confirm exactly what Dante had said.

Both men’s heads snapped up when a knock came to the locked door.

Too fast for him to react, Dante had grabbed the battery-power clipper from its charger and pinned him with a deadly glare, pointing the tool at him menacingly. “Stay there” he snapped softly, not knowing that Theo had no intentions of moving from his seat.

In fact he sunk in the plush cushions, his face turning a dark shade of red. He didn’t want to be seen like this!

He slipped his eyes to Dante, head staying perfectly still as he watched the man unlock the door.

Dante cursed under his breath, and adopted his professional façade before opening the door, fully, for he did not care that Theo was going to get embarrassed if his coworker saw him.

The guy from reception was there. Dante tried not to glare holes through him as he said, “Yes?”

The receptionist barber regarded his colleague, not knowing what hell brewed within the man before him for the rude interruption to his little power-play. “Garcia, what’s taking you so long? It’s almost eight o’clock” the blond man whispered questioningly. “We’re about to close soon.”

The taller man didn’t move aside when the receptionist peeked at his client, who Dante suspected was trying to blend into the barber chair in mortification.

He lifted the clipper in his hand, shaking it from side to side to capture his colleague’s attention. His eyes shone with disapproval as he said, “I’m kind of in the middle of servicing my client here.”

The other barber turned back to him, shaking his head. “Well we’re going to close soon, so you’d better-”

“I will not. Rush. My client.” Dante said this, emphasizing each word carefully, eyes narrowing despite his polite smile staying in place. The receptionist was about to say something but the other cut him off, “Close the shop, and leave the keys at reception. I’ll lock everything up when I’m done. Understood?”

Theo, where he sat rigidly in his seat, perked his ears at the last word Dante uttered. It was the same tone he had used with him before, but now he was directing it at the receptionist.

The barber stared at his coworker a moment longer, before the other finally sighed. “Fine, I’ll let Roger know. Sorry for interrupting.”

The man had barely finished his apology when Dante started closing the door on him, saying without conviction, “Yes, I’m sure you are. Good evening.”

He clicked the lock back into place, composing himself. He replaced his collar under his vest, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. He turned to his client, professionalism gone.

Theo gazed at him, still frozen in place. Dante noted how tense he seemed, with reason, he must admit. Perhaps he would be nice to him after taking care of his current hairstyle; for having stayed in place while they had been so carelessly interrupted, of course.

Dante approached him, and Theo slowly started to shift in the chair, straightening himself from the cowardly position he had nearly curled up into a few moments ago. Dante walked past the chair, and the book store manager followed the man’s reflection, saw that he was taking a white towel from the shelf between the washing basin and barbering station. He brought this towel over, draping it over Theo’s shoulders. A small wave of relief washed over him when the neck strip folded over the cape was loosened, enough so that the taller man could tuck the edges of the towel into the cape at his nape. Theo felt him pulling down on the back of it, exposing a little more of his neck.

Having calmed down about the intrusion, his eyes rested nervously on the straight razor in its holder. He hadn’t thought that the implement would, or even COULD, be used on his head, but then again he thought, admonishing himself for his ignorance, the skin of his face or the skin of his head was just that; skin. A blade could be passed on either place and would probably serve the same function.

Still…he pursed his lips…what if Dante’s hand slipped?

His train of thought broke off when he caught the barber pouring something in his palm; a golden liquid dripping from a sleek black bottle.

He wanted to question what the liquid was exactly, but decided not to, remembering how the man had answered him about the rectangular clipper-like implement (which he still didn’t know the name of). He suspect the answer he would receive if he asked about the solution would be much the same, in a similarly, exasperatingly teasing tone. So he kept his mouth shut, unconscious to the fact that he was almost pouting as he did.

The barber rubbed his hands together and slid behind the chair, smirking amusedly at him.

A heavy sigh, bordering on a moan, escaped Theo’s mouth. Dante rubbed his hands on his scalp, spreading what he assumed to be oil (if the slickness was any indicator) over his shaved skull. Sadly, he didn’t do this for long before going to rinse his hands in the sink beneath the mirror. Dante then went back to the shelf, only this time he opened what Theo had first assumed was a microwave, and pulled out another white towel. Steam escaped from the opened door, and lapped over the towel as well, he noted with increasing interest. First the oil, now the towel, what next? Theo was starting to realize he had absolutely no clue how a barber went about executing their services, or what anything was for.

He soon found out though, as Dante had unfolded the cloth, let it hang from the corners pinched between his fingers. He stayed perfectly still as the barber flapped the towel close to his denuded skin, the steam rolling off onto him, and Theo became aware that the towel was warm.

“Not too hot?” Dante asked him, hands moving back and forth as he swung the cloth gently.

Theo regarded the man uncertainly. “N-no?” he stuttered, and gasped when the warmth enveloped his head.

Oh. Oh my…What a delightful sensation…The towel coiled around the top of his head was hot and damp, wrapping his sensitive skin in an exquisite embrace of heat that mirrored the one he felt stirring in his abdomen. Another breathless sound issued from him when Dante pressed his hands to the towel, further warming his previously cool scalp.

“Relax,” Dante whispered soothingly, “We’re alone now, so there won’t be any more interruptions.”

There was a licentious tint to the man’s dark voice, and Theo could only wonder why that was. The way he had worded that statement…what kind of things did he want to do to him that made the prospect of being discovered so-

‘No’, he thought, his mind supplying him with images he would rather not think about. He wouldn’t think about that. His pants were already tight enough as it was without the dirty thoughts tainting his mind.

He felt Dante remove the towel, and glanced up, only to find him retrieving another steaming cloth from the machine on the shelf. This one, just like the last, was draped over his head. He felt his body’s tension begin to subside, and wished that they could just stay like this, with Dante’s hands pressing on his head, the view of his bald spot obscured and the heat of the towel dulling his senses. Alas, the barber had other plans.

The man left him, but the towel remained on his head at least. A new blade was inserted into the straight razor, before being put to the side for later use, and a brush hanging from the same stand in which the straight razor resided was taken in the barber’s hand. The book store manager continued his study of the barber’s actions, committing them to memory. He took the brush and opened the bristles; with his other hand, he squeezed a dollop of white product from a squeeze bottle into the middle. He then took an ornate black shaving mug and filled it just a tad with hot water.

Theo lifted his eyes, gazing at Dante tiredly, yet no less curiously. He was offered another of those pleased simpers as the silver haired man swirled the brush in his mug. Foam started pilling in the vessel.

He set it aside for a moment while he removed the towel from Theo’s head, tossing the cloth into the laundry basket along with the other, and took the brush from the mug.

Theo’s face flushed hotter, his lips parting in surprise as the man gently held his head still with a warm palm against his right cheek. The brush was applied to his head.

His eyelids drooped heavily, mouth open in a silent sigh, cheeks tinted pink, as Dante swirled the brush on top of his head. “Wow…” was all his stunned mind could supply, the quiet exclamation of awe falling from his lips without him ever noticing.

Every bristle, every dissolving suds, every lick of that warm lather on his head felt so absolutely delectable, he thought he might just fall asleep in complete and utter content. He could feel his head shifting unsteadily forward, but, the barber’s hand held him firmly in place. How could this feel so nice? Dante only swirled the foaming brush over his head, and yet Theo could not think of a more pleasant sensation than the one manifesting over his overly sensitive scalp at that moment. He could even feel how carefully Dante made sure to only cover the clipped part of his hair.

The barber left him then, and placed a paper strip over his shoulder, before he turned and took up the glinting straight razor in his right hand, his grey eyes positively shining with sadistic amusement at continually being able to make Theo suffer from pleasured embarrassment. Theo lowered his head slightly, eyes peering up into the barber’s, and followed the taunting flick the barber made with the razor. ‘Fuck, I really hope he doesn’t slip’ the young man thought in alarm.

But soon, his thoughts had jumbled up again. Dante had made his first swipe with the razor, a process of small, scrapping movements over the top of his head. Despite Theo having thought that he had no hair left after the whirring clipper from before, the razor nevertheless made sounds of resistance as it slid across his skull, decimating every last strand of stubble until nothing was left but smooth, pale, shining skin.

He watched shyly as Dante passed the razor on his head again, another one of those clear strips of skin showing through. The man’s face was focused, lips having relaxed their constant smile into but a slight tilt. Theo had failed to notice before, but when Dante smiled, even in the slightest, little dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. “Lady killer” was an apt description, Theo had to admit. The guy must get a ton of date offers, surely.

The razor scrapped another patch of lather, the foam being wiped with care onto the strip at his shoulder. The bookstore manager wondered if Dante knew how handsome he was?

“Enjoying the view?” Dante questioned him then, as though the man had been reading his thoughts.

Theo sucked on his lip, eyes averting from the man’s face to the straight razor. Was he that transparent?

He almost snorted. OF COURSE he knew.

Dante was just about finished shaving the bald patch, now passing the razor with precision along the border of hair circling his head, but Theo could only let his gaze fall back on the barber, thinking to himself that it couldn’t just be ladies that fell under the man’s rapt charm. After all, he himself had all but succumbed to the man.

Dante removed himself from his work, settling the razor back on the counter. He moved to retrieve another towel, but not a steaming one. Instead, he passed the rolled towel under a jet of water from the sink, wrung it out, and brought it over to Theo.

He gasped, a terrible shiver coursing down his spine. The absolute jerk! The towel was cold!

“You could have given a warning,” he ground between grit teeth, clenching them tighter in displeasure when Dante only chuckled as if this amused him.

The barber left the towel there as he took the brush from the shaving mug again. He made Theo bend his head, making sure to press his chin quite firmly against his chest. As much as he enjoyed being under Dante’s command, a spark of irritation shone in his eye as the man lathered up his nape. Like last time, the silver haired man cleaned his neck up and discarded of the paper strip on his shoulder when it was done.

Dante wiped his head with the towel he had left there, and Theo now concentrated on the extent of the damage done to his hair.

He bent his head, watching, horrified, at how perfectly shiny and smooth the top was. Dante had really left nothing of the cut he had given him last time, had taken him down to nothing just as promised. That is, except for that ring of hair around his head.

“Well,” Dante stated, as his eyes roved over his handiwork with smug pride, “Now we know what you would look like if you had male pattern baldness.”

Oh lord, how he hadn’t wanted him to say that. His hands itched to cover his face again, embarrassed that the sight of himself, and Dante having been the instigator for this look, were causing him to feel so aroused.

“Since you’ve been so good,” Dante uttered next, coming to the right of the chair, his tone full of approval for Theo, “I think it’s time for something nice…” He trailed off, cranking the hand lever, sending the chair back into its slanted position.

Theo’s head fell back, the sudden movement causing him to cry out. Dante reached beneath his head, pulling the headrest back out so Theo could lean it there. He did, his heart thundering inside his chest as his legs were propped back on the leg rest. When was this going to end?

When would Dante be sated?

Theo twisted in his seat to look behind him, where the barber had walked off to, to see him returning with the stool. He didn’t sit on it right away though, and went over to the counter, hands roving along the shelves of products. He looked like he was searching for something specific, and released an “Ah!” when he found it.

Theo only caught a glimpse of the bottle he brought over with him to the stool, the only thing he could say for certain being that the bottle had been a deep red color, but otherwise he had no idea what Dante was going to do. Green eyes searched the grey ones above his, finding nothing but mirth dancing around in them. He didn’t know why he continued to try prying answers from the man; it led to nothing but further embarrassment.

Theo tensed. Whatever was in the bottle, Dante was now pouring it over his head. He heard the man shuffle around, and assumed he poured some in his hands as well, as his ears picked up on the slick sound of the man’s hands rubbing something between them. Another shiver wracked his body when he felt whatever substance Dante had put on his head drip slowly over his scalp.

Without warning, Dante slicked his hands over his head, and began massaging him.

A guttural moan escaped him. Oh fuck…

“My, my,” Dante noted, clearly entertained, “Where have those beautiful sounds been, Theo?” He pressed again, watching the scalp fold under the pressure, and extracted another musical sound. He laughed, deep and dark, voice a licentious whisper as he said, “Enjoy it, dear. I’m sure you’ll thank me later.”

Bliss. That’s what it was. Sheer and utter rapture, divine beauty exploding over his senses by the hands of the devil himself. How ironic.

What madness had led him here, moaning in a barbershop, with the barber, professionalism be damned, rubbing on his head with a sardonic smirk?

But it felt so nice…

He lost himself, abandoned to those worshiping hands. His limbs grew limp, growing numb at the continued rubbing motions on his denuded scalp, aided by whatever oil Dante had dumped there. His eyes closed on their own, and his breathing slowed as he relaxed.

Dante spread his hands over his scalp, fingers rubbing in much the same way he had at the beginning of the evening, although the absence or serious lack of hair meant that his touch elicited greater sensation, made him shudder far more. He could clearly feel the warmth of Dante’s skin against his own, slicked with oil, sliding torturously over his entire head.

Dante lifted his head, massaged his nape, nails scraping against the short pelt there. He rubbed up, made circles, passed his hand in quick fashion, for minutes on end.

He hadn’t realized he had dozed off until Dante called out to him insistently. “Theo?”

He jerked himself awake, stifling a yawn with his hand, completely forgetting about leaving them on the armrests. For a moment he felt lost, until the barber’s hand caressed the top of his smooth head.

‘Right’ he thought, his body catching up to the situation, ‘My head is still…’

The hand at his head slipped underneath, supporting him. Theo moved his legs to the footrest, assuming the other man would put the chair back up, and when he did, he helped Theo keep his head straight as he put the headrest down.

Theo felt the neck strip being loosened, and shifted to watch the barber throw it in the trash. The cape came off, whatever bits of hair on it falling to the floor below. Theo’s eyes widened in panic. Surely Dante wouldn’t leave him like this, would he? ‘Careful’ he told himself, ‘This is the same man who threatened to drag you out into the shop looking like this.’ Hysteria mounted. Dante could, he had no doubt about that.

The silver haired man stood in front of him, leaning with his arms crossed against the barbering station, every inch the well dressed -yet ill mannered- gentleman. He regarded him evenly, stormy grey eyes roving over his head. Theo swallowed, wanting to sink back into the chair under that heavily lashed stare.

The smirk played on those proud lips again. “Should we send you out like this?”

He panted. This couldn’t be happening to him. Dante had said he would shave him bald –not leave him looking like some poor old sod with a receding hairline. Finding some form of courage in his decidedly cowardly self, he shook his head fiercely, “No!”

But Dante was nodding at him, lifting a finger to a perfectly chiseled chin as if in thought. “Oh, but I think we should.”

“No!” Theo was nearly shouting now, perched on the edge of the seat, hands coming to grip the front of the barber’s perfectly tailored suit. “No, this is ridiculous!”

“You’re damn right it is,” Dante taunted, his eyes twinkling with sadistic delight at seeing the state of the book store manager, unfazed by the hands gripping his coat.

“I’ll do anything!” Theo blurted out senselessly, too mortified to think of anything else but preserving some of his damaged dignity.

“Anything?” the barber parroted, intrigued.

“Yes!”

There was a pause, in which the barber’s smirk turned dark.

“Then beg.”

Had he heard that right?

Theo’s breath had stilled. Dante had a brow raised at him.

Theo averted his eyes, swallowing, hoping to wet his parched throat. His voice shook when he asked, “What did you say?”

Dante’s elegant hand turned his head towards him, and looked him directly in his terrified green eyes. He smugly repeated, “Beg.”

The book keeper stayed in stunned silence.

Whatever hope of leaving here with even a bit of his dignity disappeared.

Licking his lips, he shakily uttered, “P-please…”

Dante brought his face close to his, hand still holding his head still. “Better than that, Theo.”

A whine surfaced from his throat, his brows furrowing into a pained expression. “Oh, come on…”

Dante was looking at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath through his nose, mouth set in a firm line. “Please,” he started rigidly, “Please, don’t let me leave here looking like this…”

But the barber wasn’t satisfied. “Better” he snapped.

Theo shook his head, exhaling hard. What more did the man want? “Please, Dante, I beg you, I don’t want to leave here looking like this…” the plea finished in a quiet, dry sob. God, just how pathetic was he?

Dante stroked his head, eyes softening, “Then what do you want me to do, Theo?”

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t doubt the answer he gave the barber. “Shave the rest of my head, please.”

Silence engulfed the room.

Slowly, Dante took his hand back, and used it to pry Theo’s fingers off his suit. Theo breathed, eyes narrowed pleadingly at the man before him.

“Come,” Dante finally uttered, stepping around the chair towards the washing basin, “let’s wash that oil off your head and fix you up.”

“Oh thank God…” he whispered to himself, lifting off the chair to follow Dante to the washing station. He steadied himself on the back of the chair, legs nearly giving up on him as he stood. He took a few deep breaths, willing the jelly that was his knees to toughen up and carry him over to the recliner.

He sat down, barely noticing Dante removing his vest or rolling his sleeves, nor how he placed a black towel on his shoulders. Theo could only try to sort through the mess of his jumbled mind. The barber held his head and leaned him back into the basin, prompting him to move the basin as he had last time to get comfortable. He did so mechanically, eyes closed as he calmed his racing heart and the straining bulge still very present in his trousers.

He was barely aware of anything anymore, even the jet of warm water that cascaded over his shaved head, while pleasant and different from anything he had ever felt before, was nothing but a background sensation to the thousands of different thoughts creating a cacophony in his head. The chaos muddling his senses did abate, slightly, when the barber scrubbed shampoo over his head, washing away the oil slicked over his skin and hair.

Fingers rubbed gently, soothingly, over his sensitized scalp, far more delicate than they had ever been.

The mess in his mind dissolved, and Theo felt himself breathe evenly. Dante pulled his skin back on a deep, pacifying massage, and he submitted completely, no longer willing to battle the need in his body.

He was quiet, but focused intently on those hands, ones he had dreamed about in the darkness of his room, ones that had visited his haunted thoughts when he couldn’t sleep, ones who made him feel so…

His head was rinsed.

Dante made him sit up, dried his head with a towel, the little bit of hair he still had on his head practically already dry. “Stand up” Dante told him, not even replacing the towel on his shoulders. He did, eyes blinking slowly, staring resolutely at the floor.

There was a pile of dark hair behind the chair.

Theo moved to the barber chair, conscious of the taller man’s light hand on his shoulder, as though leaving it there in case Theo fell. He wouldn’t; he had stopped panicking, or even thinking for that matter.

He sat back in that dark, gleaming throne, as Dante put a new strip around his neck and brought the cape back around him. Somewhere between the washing basing and here, Dante had put his dark vest back on.

The man had become silent, seemed to focus solely on fixing the bookstore manager’s hair. He took his big set of clippers and turned them on. Theo’s head bent with no prompting. Then the barber was running it up his nape.

Theo closed his eyes, concentrating solely on the path the clipper took around his head, immersing himself in the sound, the feeling, the weight of the hair falling to his shoulders, the warmth of the clipper blades, the vibrations on his scalp. He was erect, showing clearly through the cape, but he no longer cared to stop himself.

Dante cleared the hair around his ears, on both sides, and shut his clippers off. He put them on their respective hook, took his stiff brush, and flicked the dark hair off Theo’s shoulders. It went back to its place among with the rest of the barbering tools.

The oil that Dante had applied before shaving his scalp made a reappearance, and was applied at the back and sides of his head. Despite his fuzzy state of mind, Theo noticed the barber hadn’t used the other, flatter clipper. Perhaps, like he had said, the tool really had been used just to tease him. Regardless, Dante retrieved a steaming towel and wrapped it around his head, the warmth quite welcomed. A strip was placed at his shoulder, just like before.

The bald man watched the barber rinse the shaving mug of its, by now, cold foam. He repeated the same steps as before to achieve a new lather. The towel around Theo’s head was replaced by another, and left there for a minute while Dante examined the blade of the straight razor. He deemed it fine, as he didn’t change it.

Towel now removed, a layer of shaving cream came to cover his nape, sides and around his ears, everywhere Dante had just shorn with the clipper. Theo focused on his reflection. Now he really did look like an old, white-haired man, but he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was for Dante to shave him, and that’s what the man did, scraping the razor over his foamy skin.

Glide, wipe, position, repeat. And again. His nape felt cool.

He didn’t flinch when the barber applied the razor around his ears, bending and pulling on them to get into every corner, every last patch of stubble. When the man’s fingers slid over his shaved skin, Theo sighed, brows furrowing in delight.

It didn’t take long before a cold towel was wiping away the remnants of the lather.

Dante threw the towel in the laundry basket, noting how it was getting full. No matter. His grey eyes roamed over his products, selecting two bottles; a glass one with clear liquid, and another dark blue squeeze bottle.

He noticed how quiet and still Theo had become, and how he no longer tried to hide the tent he was pitching. Good.

He splashed the liquid from the clear bottle in his hands first, an aftershave, and applied it to Theo’s smooth head. After what had seemed like minutes on end of silence for Theo’s part, the book keeper finally made a sound: a hiss, a byproduct of the stinging sensation he was sure to be feeling on his overly sensitive scalp. But he would soothe the ache, as Dante now took the other bottle he had retrieved from the station. He squeezed a mound of white lotion into his hand, and spread it over his client’s scalp.

Finally, Dante’s hands rested on Theo’s shoulder, still at last.

Theo pursed his lips, looking intently at the person that stared back at him.

How different he looked, without his dark hair. How pale, he noted, his scalp was, having never before been graced by the sun’s warm kiss. His usually light skin seemed so much darker compared to the shining surface of his skull.

Dante’s right hand left his shoulder. He stretched it out, eyes locking onto Theo’s own. “Give me your hand” he ordered calmly, softly.

Theo licked his lips, slowly lifting his heavy arm from under the cape, until his wrist came into the barber’s tender grasp. The taller man guided his palm to his head, and placed it there, his eyes never leaving his. “Touch it. Feel it. Go on.”

He did, with great caution, the tips of his fingers picking up on the smoothness of his skin. He went against the grain, feeling little resistance. Dante certainly shaved him close; any closer and he’d be waxed.

He continued to touch his head, deciding how he should feel about this. But one look into his lap confirmed it; this turned him on. As humiliating and degrading and cruel as Dante had been, he had enjoyed it, so much so, that it had scared him. He hadn’t known there was a part of him that could even like something like this. Evidently, somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind, he had wanted this.

There was no doubt in that.

His mind skidded to a halt, recalling Dante’s kiss from earlier.

He gazed at him now, wondering what the man could be thinking. Was he going to kiss him again?

What about him? Did Theo want his kiss? Certainly, when he had received it before, his body had reacted favorably, but only because it had been so sudden, had anchored him to reality. Now was different. Now he was fully conscious of what had happened, of what could happen again.

Dante took his hand away from his head, bent forward and simply pressed his mouth to his knuckles. Theo stayed perfectly still. This wasn’t a kiss per say, just a slight pressure on his hand, one made by Dante’s lips, yes, but they simply touched him, without moving, as if testing the waters.

Forgetting the kiss for now, a more pressing question plagued him. “Why?” he whispered.

Dante let his hand go, straightening. His face had become stony, like those times he had come to the book store and bought novels, long before any of this had been set into motion. “Why…what, Theo?”

The stole himself for the response he would get. “Why did you cut my hair, without waiting to know what I wanted?” He breathed, continuing, “Why did you decide what would be good for me, why did you make another appointment, why did you sha-” he calmed himself, “Why did you shave my head, when you knew that I wouldn’t be able to give you any other answer than the one you wanted?”

Dante gazed at him, as stoic and poised as ever. “Because,” he started, no emotion present in his voice, “You hesitated.”

No. Not good enough. “Please give me a better reason before I tear my eyes out.”

Dante’s features hardened, taken aback by Theo’s sudden LACK of hesitation. “Alright, because you hesitated and I’m an impatient bastard who doesn’t like to be left waiting for a response that will never come.”

Theo grit his teeth, twisting in his seat to look at Dante directly, not just the reflection in the mirror. “You can’t just give me a bullshit reason like that! Look at me!” He snapped, the calm he felt before devolving into anger at Dante’s inability -or refusal- of giving him a straight answer. He took a shuddering breath, “I have done nothing but please you! I let you do whatever you wanted! I-” he faltered here, but resumed after sighing in agitation, “I am so fucking hard I can’t even think straight. That’s how much I enjoyed this, even if this is apparently some cruel game to you!”

Dante gazed passively at him.

He grabbed the man’s stupidly expensive suit and pulled him at eye level with him, the cape still around his neck sending what little hair was on it flying to the chair and the floor. “I know I’ve given you some lies of my own, the first time I came, but Christ…” he continued louder, “How can you just expect me to be content with that answer after what you’ve done to me?”

Dante grabbed his hands, eyes stormy, steady grey. How could he remain so calm about this?

Then, “When I bought books from your store…” Dante started.

Theo’s breath hitched. His fists remained firmly wound around the man’s coat.

The barber released a bit of a snort, as though laughing at himself, “I could tell right away you couldn’t take your eyes off me. You always looked so bored at the counter until I came along, and then your eyes would light up like stars.”

Theo’s fists loosened. This wasn’t the answer he was expecting to receive.

“I didn’t think much of you until you came to The Lounge last month. I could see it written all over your face that you liked me, that it wasn’t a coincidence you came to The Lounge, or that you called when I was at reception. You had planned it that way.”

Theo swallowed, his hands releasing entirely from the man’s shirt.

“Look,” Dante said, “I’m a terrible person when it comes to social interaction. I saw you come in, looking like you wanted me to get you laid,” Theo choked at the words, lifting incredulous eyes to the barber as he continued, “And you started being all hesitant and shy and doubtful and you needed a haircut desperately -and we both know that so stop glaring at me.”

Theo didn’t, in fact he scowled at the man, but nevertheless stayed silent.

Dante, for once, looked ruffled, agitated even, as he kept going with a glare at Theo. “I wanted to have you. I wanted to bury my hands in your hair and make you squirm and I have never felt more inclined to do so until you sat in my chair.” He took Theo’s face in his hands, and the bald man’s eyes grew wide, a deep flush marring his features at the decidedly erotic confession Dante had made. The cockiness in the man’s demeanor surfaced somewhat through to his mouth, appearing in an indecisive grin. “I took one look at how you behaved and thought how thrilling it would be to have you under my control, to make you WANT to be under my control.”

Theo gaped at him, at a loss for words.

Hadn’t he held similar thoughts, only the other way around? How he wanted Dante to take the reins, how exciting it might be? It hadn’t always gone nicely, he admitted, and more than once he had wondered why he had let himself be commanded by the barber.

So Dante had felt the same way?

‘But’ he supplied to himself, ‘Dante never doubted himself and went straight for it. You stood around in denial.’

As unprofessional as Dante had been (he was certain this would have never passed with anyone other than him), this is exactly the kind of thing, the response even, the he had been looking for, no, craving for.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt himself wanting Dante with a fire so blazing hot in his abdomen he thought hell itself had made its way into his being.

His breath caught in his throat and his thoughts halted when he felt Dante taking the neck strip and cape away. He stood from the chair, going around it as soon as he was up, and stood in front of Dante, searching for the exact words he wanted to say to him.

He licked his lips, eyes averting away from the man as he ran his hand over his bald head. He snorted derisively. “You’re a sick, cruel man.”

The barber watched him, proud lips set in a firm line.

“But,” Theo supplied, eyes slipping back to the taller man, his voice but a mere murmur, “I guess I must be a sick man myself.”

Dante’s brow rose at that, pleasantly surprised with the admission. He stepped closer to Theo, closing the space between them further. “And why is that?”

Theo eyed those masculine lips, thinking about the kiss from before again, and how close they were now. “Because I want you to humiliate me in other ways.”

Dante smiled at him, perfect white teeth glinting under the lights in the room. His arm rose from beside him, and he brought his elegant hand to the book keeper’s nape, face inching closer to his. “And how, exactly,” the man breathed against the others’ face, so close their lips were nearly touching, “should I do that?”

Theo’s green eyes clouded over with a sudden sense of lust. He swallowed, his own lips brave enough to offer a grin of his own, despite the nervous thundering of his heart. “You proposed a hot towel shave the first time we talked. You still haven’t shaved my face.”

Dante’s hand slid against his scalp, eliciting a low moan from Theo. The man’s grey eyes were positively blazing with desire. His other hand wrapped around Theo’s waist, pulling him closer still, enough for Dante to feel the extent on the young man’s want and need for him against his thigh. His voice was unsteady as he stated, “I have a barber chair at home I keep for doing my friends’ hair.” His lips were brushing against the others’ as he spoke. “But I think it would serve a better function in being the site of your continued degradation.”

Theo twisted a fist in the barber’s silver hair, pulling and bringing his lips into full contact on his own. Their lips danced passionately against the others’, the barber’s own hands roving over his nude scalp, his clothed side.

They parted. Theo could feel Dante’s hardness against him now too.

The barber disengaged, quickly telling Theo as he swept about the room, “Go home and get whatever you’ll need to stay the night. I’ll send you my address to your cell. And bring a change of clothes,” he panted raggedly, cleaning up the private room hastily. His hard, glazed grey eyes stared longingly at Theo’s body. “I might rip your clothes off in my haste to undress you.”

Theo’s heart thumped erratically in his chest, as he gathered his work bag and grabbed his car keys in a hurry. “You’ll be there when I arrive, right?”

Dante turned to him, smiling wide. “You bet your poor, sweet little ass I will.”

Theo grinned, hurrying out The Lounge’s empty shop into the cool July evening.

He didn’t doubt his decision. There was nothing he wanted more than Dante’s pleasure inducing hands reducing him to a moaning, sweating, cursing mess in his barber chair.

XXXXX

The End

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