Page 25 of Zel
“Oh, it did. Thankfully, my hair does not require much washing. It mostly keeps clean on its own. We would only brush it out and re-braid it weekly, unless it got especially tangled or dirty.” Zel suppressed a moan in response to Ulrich’s nails running over his scalp after the last of his previous braids had been unbound, both the normal, though still pointed nails of Ulrich’s ashen hand, and the claws of the one that was usually black.
The skin did not remain black while in contact with Zel’s hair, proven again this morn, as Ulrich prepared to brush out Zel’s locks like they’d discussed. It had always felt nice when Zel’s mother did so, but with Ulrich, the act of fingers combing through his hair almost seemed worshipful. The reverence and peace on Ulrich’s face could be seen plainly in the mirror in front of Zel.
They were in his bedchamber, with Zel seated in front of the mirror and Ulrich behind him. After he roused, Zel had freshened up and changed into another new dress made from the loom, but had waited to do anything with his even more tousled braids until Ulrich came to him.
As long as there were fabrics to manipulate, Zel liked having something new to wear each day. Today’s dress did have a bodice. He did not miss wearing a corset, but a less constricting bodice over a dress was nice and helped give an extra cinch to his waist that almost made his flat chest present more feminine.He liked, however, that Ulrich’s attention did not stray directly there but moved freely over all of him, equally captivated by every part of Zel.
Zel was used to being stared at, lusted after, especially by Rudy—and oftentimes Lothar—but this felt different. The longing from Ulrich was different. But then, Ulrich had been alone for ages, without another’s touch for all that time too. If Zel had gone centuries without touching or being touched, he would have grown mad with desire.
Pausing finally in what had become a very pleasant massage of Zel’s scalp, Ulrich took up the brush that had once been his. Zel’s unbraided hair was so long, Ulrich had stretched it out along the floor nearly to the doorway. Given how long Ulrich’s hair was as well, he clearly knew how to handle such length. He moved first away from Zel to begin brushing out the golden locks from the ends, and slowly, section by section, worked his way up.
At first, Zel could watch with a turn of his head. Ulrich had forgone robes today and wore pantaloons that went to his ankles, not the higher breeches and stockings Zel was used to on Falchovarien men, and a tunic-like shirt that was tightly fitted over his chest and open enough to show his collarbone. It was all very dressed down and becoming on him, and made sense, given he was on his knees to brush out Zel’s hair. The former Immortal King and fabled sorcerer of the wood was on hisknees. And out of his usual robes, his figure was quite trim despite the broadness of his shoulders.
Zel wanted to run his fingers through Ulrich’s starlight locks with the same reverence that Ulrich was offering Zel’s.
Perhaps so long having daily dallied with Rudy and now going withoutwasmaking Zel mad. Once Ulrich came nearer, Zel had to turn forward, and the closer Ulrich returned to Zel’s scalp, the more Zel felt it. The more he enjoyed it. The brush from Zel’s crown down toward the nape of his neck was the best,but especially when Ulrich’s clawed nails followed in the brush’s wake.
Only when Zel’s hair was glossy from the attention, and all combed through, did Ulrich begin to braid it. He formed the foundation, setting up the right sections, knots, and tucks near Zel’s scalp. With him there, so close to Zel, pausing often to merely touch Zel’s hair or alight his long fingers on Zel’s shoulders, a familiar tingle began to travel through Zel, pleasant and hot.
If this had been Rudy, the young pickpocket would have slid his hands into the top of Zel's dress by now.
Zel tilted his head, exposing the length of his pale neck, chest heaving to show his interest, however subtly. He should not yet be coaxing Ulrich into intimate acts, but he wondered purely for his own sake what it might be like to feel those pointed nails and claws reach down to circle his nipples.
“Zel, do you feel the way the magic rises with heat in your belly?”
“Yes.” Zel met Ulrich’s violet eyes in the mirror. “But is that… magic, my lord?”
Ulrich grinned. “It can be. Let me shoulder the brunt of the work, but some of this next magic will come from you.” He ran his hands down Zel’s shoulders, down the whole length of his arms to his wrists and took hold of them, spreading them outward. He manipulated Zel’s hands like someone leading a choir or band of players. “Now, envision the sections of your hair lifting on their own.”
“That is all?”
“You were born with magic inside you, Zel. The talent is already there.”
Zel tried, focusing first on Ulrich, on his touch, on his motions with Zel’s hands, and how being in contact with him made the heat, the tingle that had already been building within Zel, growstronger. Then he imagined his hair lifting and starting to twine into more and more braided sections.
“That’s it, Zel. Don’t stop.”
Zel gasped, for he could see the hair behind him in the mirror, and it was indeed starting to lift and move. It followed the motion of Ulrich’s hands on Zel’s wrists, but eventually, it was Zel leading, Zel choosing how to conduct them, somehow able to envision it all, even the parts of his hair he couldn’t see.
Ulrich never released Zel’s hands, even when it was all by Zel’s direction that the movements continued.
“There we are.” Ulrich lowered Zel’s arms, but his touch lingered on Zel’s wrists. Their eyes met in the mirror before Zel took in the way his bound hair looked from the front. It was perfect. He reached back to pull his braid over his shoulder, stroking it more to marvel at the intricacies of the design rather than for comfort like he usually might.
“Does it look all right at the back of my head?”
“See for yourself.” Ulrich produced a silver hand mirror that matched the brush.
Zel took it, stood, and turned away from the wall to use the hand mirror to reflect the larger mirror behind him and the full length of his braids twisted into one glorious whole. It looked even better than how his mother had woven it for their trip to the tower. “And I did this? Withmymagic?”
“I barely had to help at all by the end.” Ulrich smiled more softly than his teasing grin. He looked so handsome in his minimalist clothing. “Eventually, you won’t even need my touch.”
Zel clutched the mirror to his chest. “I very much doubt that, my lord.”
It was flawless double-speak, enough flirtation that Ulrich glanced down Zel’s body and back up to the flush in Zel’s cheeks—a flush Zel didn’t need to fabricate.
Zel worried his bottom lip, holding Ulrich’s gaze, and then tried to hand the mirror back to him.
“Keep it. You already own its partner, and a perfect match should not be separated.”
