Page 23 of Show Me How to Heal
“Okaay,” I said. It sounded a little weird, a little hippie-ish. Then again, Zayne looked a little hippie-ish with his linen clothing and his long hair. Hell, his whole house had the same calm, flowery vibe. And it seemed to be working for him because his hair war fucking gorgeous — and completely hiding his ass when wet. “Can I wash your hair?”
Zayne’s eyes widened comically like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. I had no idea why, I mean, it wasn’t that weird of a request, was it?
It didn’t feel weird. It felt like a nice thing to do for him.
“Uhm… sure. If you really want to? You don’t have to. It’s kinda a lot of work and takes quite a couple of minutes and—”
“I want to,” I interrupted him, grabbing one bar of soap. There were only two, so my chances of getting the right one were fifty-fifty.
Apparently, I’d gotten it correct because Zayne just nodded, looking a little dazed, his eyes darting to my hand and the bar of his soap. I could already smell the woodsy scent, the typical Zayne scent. “Okay… just… uhm… you need to lather it up. If there’s no foam, it won’t clean anything. Add a little water if it’s not working,” he said. He swallowed but turned his back towards me so it was easier for me to spread the soap… Did I try to lather it up in my hand?
“Uhm… do I need to use the soap directly on your hair? Or do I rub the bar between my hands?”
“Oh, use it directly on my hair, but please go with the growth” He swallowed audibly and I saw his shoulders tensing. “But really, you don’t need to if you…”
“Hush,” I said, grabbing the slippery beige bar tightly and starting to stroke it over his hair.
It took me a couple of seconds to get the hang of it — don’t brush over the hair too harshly or softly; always go with the hair, not against — but in the end, it worked okay. I tried to keep his hair flat and not tousle it too much while working the soap through all of his strands.
After a couple of seconds, Zayne relaxed his shoulders, letting his head fall back with a groan that ignited a spark of heat low in my gut. Yeah, if he kept groaning like that, the shower would take a really hard turn for me.
After about a minute, I was sure I’d covered all of his hair with soap and started lathering it up, turning the shower back on for a couple of seconds at a time, gathering a little water in my hands, and pouring it over his head to help get a nice lather going.
I had to admit, massaging Zayne’s scalp, listening to his low groans when I really started lathering the soap was… an oddly good feeling. It was arousing, sure, but that wasn’t that important.
It was… intimate. Him being vulnerable with me, letting me do something for him though he’d obviously been unsure if it was a good idea or not. He’d put trust in me. Maybe feeling satisfaction he trusted me with his hair was stupid, but it probably meant a lot to him. It was well cared for, and to maintain such a length had to be a lot of work, right?
“I think I’m done,” I murmured after a while. He had a fucking mountain of foam on top of his head, and his length, while not being buried beneath foam, was at least really sudsy.
“Yeah,” Zayne sighed. “Unfortunately you are.”
I laughed.
“You liked it?”
Zayne nodded, turning back around to face me. His eyes met mine, and the affection shining bright in his dark orbs nearly took my breath away whilst pride flooded my system. I’d done that. I’d put that expression there. “Do you want me to reciprocate?”
“You don’t have to,” I said, not wanting him to feel obligated, but this time around, it was Zayne shushing me.
“I want to. And you’re stuck with using my soap, anyways. I literally don’t own regular shampoo anymore.”
I could think of worse things to smell like than Zayne, so I happily turned around, closed my eyes, and waited for him to make quick work out of my hair because, contrary to Zayne’s, my hair was only a couple of centimeters long.
But he didn’t.
In fact, he didn’t start with the soap at all, carding his fingers through my hair instead, massaging my scalp in circular motions, tugging at the strands until I felt a little sting that was not unpleasant in any way.
Sighing, I let my head fall back, closing my eyes while his fingernails scraped over my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I got fucking goosebumps all over my head and had to fight the urge to roll my shoulders or pull them up instead, not wanting to give Zayne a reason to stop.
This was glorious.
Heaven.
My dick was confused, unsure if it should get hard or not because I certainly felt good, but Zayne’s massage wasn’t sexual at all. In the end, it stayed at half-mast. I couldn’t care less because the thing Zayne did, the scratching and massaging, the hair pulling and soothing… it was giving me a headgasm — and I loved it.
I loved it so much that I was a little bummed when Zayne began actually lathering the soap in my hair because that meant it was over.
He started the water again and we rinsed the soap out, which proved to be harder than washing out regular shampoo. It took a little longer, and in the end, my hair felt matted and weirdly sticky and greasy. Not good at all.
