Page 36 of Creep
He sits at the table, and I remember the promise to cut his hair, so while the coffee heats up, I rummage through the right box, searching for the tools and products I’ll need.
“I felt… very welcome last night, it was nice to shower with you,” Creep says.
Once again, I itch to approach him from behind and glide my fingers down his hard chest, until I’m hugging him, but it’s too early for that. The beep of the microwave calls me over, and soon I place both steaming cups on the table.
“You know that I went to school for hairdressing?” I ask, showing him my scissors.
He straightens up, all of his attention on me. I worry that he might have an issue with haircuts as well, but he doesn’t seem distressed in any way, and I’m getting pretty attuned to his energy by now. His aura might be dark, but I can almost see the bright sparks glittering over it every time I speak.
“You did? Is that something you like to do? Do you cut your own hair? It’s very pretty.” His eyes follow me in a way that couldbe read as menacing, but I see him for what he is—a lovesick puppy.
And, oh, how I want him to adore me. I have no idea what kind of relationship with him I want, I’m happy to go with the flow, but I wantsomething.
The sudden onslaught of need makes me breathless, and I comb back my own hair, cocking my hip. “Well, thank you! Yes I do. Would you like me to do something with yours?” I lean over him from the back and take a deep inhale, straight from his head. “Your hair smells so good.”
“You said you’ll cut it? Do whatever you think would look good.” Creep says and grabs the steaming mug.
Oh, I love a man who lets me do my thing.
“All right,” I say and press a playful kiss to his head. I freeze, wondering if it isn’t too much, but when he doesn’t protest, I drape a cape over his shoulders and reach for my comb. We both remain silent, me dividing his tar-black strands into sections, him squeezing the mug in his hands, but the question throbbing at the back of my throat since we met needs to be asked, even if I need to prepare him for it.
“So… I really enjoyed last night.”
“Y-yes? I… worry I talked too much about myself.”
“No way. I like your voice,” I tell him, eager to boost his confidence. He has a lot of thick hair, and since it overwhelms his features, the best solution is to create more layers. As I get to work, it’s much easier to ask the big, important questions. “So… have you done anything like that before?”
When he shifts his head, trying to slouch, I correct him, and he doesn’t protest. I wish he had a mirror in front of him, so I could see his face.
“No. I only ever fantasized about it. Reality was much,muchbetter.” There’s so much raw lust in his voice I have to take a deep breath because my body is already reacting to his words.But I do wonder if what he’s saying is that he’s never done the sleep kink before, or if he’s not had sex before.
I move, working on his dark strands until we are almost facing each other. “I liked the way you touched me, all gentle. As if you couldn’t get enough,” I whisper, and while sex isn’t new forme, the tension between us is so fragile I still worry my words might not land the way I intend them to.
I hide my smile when he lowers his coffee cup over his crotch. “Yes? You enjoyed it? Your skin… it’s so soft.” It sounds a little like he wants to make cushions out of me, but I’m pretty sure he wants me alive and breathing, so I don’t think about it too much.
“Loved it,” I say, eager to reassure him that he’s welcome in my new home, and that I want his presence more than I expected. He’s so different from the men I’ve been with, and while he clearly has the capacity for violence, I can’t help but feel so very safe in his presence. “It felt like you knew what you were doing. You said you didn’t… do the sleep thing before, but were you with people the… usual way?” I ask, avoiding the word normal at the last moment, because nobody wants to hear the way they want to fuck isnot normal.
And yes, I am exaggerating his skills, but it’s the dedication that counts.
I move to stand in front of him under the pretense of cutting the hair there, when really, I need to see his face. I’m quite good at telling if someone’s lying. When he looks down, I tilt his chin up.
“I’ve… no. I’ve not had the opportunity,” Creep says as if we’re in a job interview and he’s admitting he doesn’t know how to use spreadsheets.
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone this sincere, but I love it, and if he lets me, I can teach him all the ways he could give me pleasure. And vice versa, of course. “You must be a natural talent then. I saw stars. Whole constellations and galaxies of them,” Itell him, and when my eyes meet his, it’s as if our gazes are two pieces of flint, because now I’m on fire.
And then he smiles, setting the whole room ablaze. It’s like watching the stone skin of a gargoyle crack to reveal the living, breathing creature inside the shell. “I’m so happy. I wouldn’t like to do it if you said you don’t enjoy it.”
He’s perfect.
It’s official, and while I know it’s only a fleeting emotion, not anything that runs deeper, I feel like I’m in love.
I want to kiss him so bad.
“Thank you. Not everyone thinks that way. There’s a lot of people out there willing to lie just to get in your pants,” I say, rolling my eyes. “People suck, but I really like Vulture Hollow. Thank you for bringing me here, all in all.”
I have to move behind him to test out my hairdo idea for him, a fantasy-inspired half-up half-down style with a loose bun, which showcases his handsome features.
“You won’t miss your place? Do you have family in the area?”
