Chapter 19

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"Dinner at a restaurant doesn't sound so bad. A free meal, an awkward convo, and you're done."

Still naked, Hazel sits next to me on the couch, doing absolutely nothing to conceal his newly waxed junk. Groaning, I lean forward and rest my face in my hands.

"You don't get it. This isn't a visit. It's an inspection."

Hazel scooches closer and rubs the back of my neck. "What do you mean?"

Relaxing a little beneath his touch, I sigh.

"I mean, he does this every year. He comes up with some excuse to be 'passing through,' or 'in the area,' so he can 'drop by' and see how I'm doing." I make air quotes around each deceptively innocent phrase. "What he's really doing is checking on his investment. He takes me out for a cheap meal, makes a big deal about how grateful I should be, and then spends two hours grilling me like he's a prosecutor and I'm a witness for the defense. He wants to know how I spend my money, what I eat, what I do in my free time. I swear to God, if it was at all relevant, he'd want to know how often I crap and what it looks like. It's exhausting and humiliating. I hate it."

"I could come with you, if you want," Hazel says. "I could—"

"No!"

My shout startles us both and Hazel withdraws his hand, his expression wavering between surprise and hurt.

Wincing, I soften my tone. "I mean, thanks, but no. It's better if you don't, believe me."

"Okay. I can, um... be out that day, if it helps."

I see the uncertainty in his eyes and feel my heart twist. He lives his truth and doesn't completely understand my compulsion to hide mine. This is also the first time he's been among the things I'm trying to conceal. I hate myself for doing it, but I have no alternative right now.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

His smile returns. "Not as much as I appreciate you. Want me to demonstrate?"

Grateful for the chance to leave the awkwardness behind, I laugh. "Fine, but I need a shower first."

🐚

Talking to my dad makes me break out in anxious sweat; Hazel makes me feel sexy and safe, even as he continues to explore the boundaries of my comfort.

"I can't believe you got your balls waxed," I say, laughing as I settle between his raised knees. Sixty-nining had proved too awkward for me—at least on the first try, so he'd slowed things down. Instead, we take our time and take turns, and now it's mine.

"I did it for you," he says, his abdominal muscles twitching as I take hold of his cock. "So I'd be all clean and not... gross and hairy... Oh, God!"

He gasps and shudders as I do my best to mimic what he's done many times to me, licking from the base up, swirling my tongue around the head and sucking gently until beads of clear precum leak from the tip. I stop and look at him.

"Should I get mine done, too?" I ask, frowning. "I mean... so I'm not gross and hairy?"

He lifts himself on his elbows, chest heaving. "No way. Your pubes are cute. They're all... golden and curly, like a fluffy nest. Mine were just... nasty and—ah!"

He falls back against the pillows as I take him in my mouth again. When he groans and threads his fingers through my hair, I pause for breath.

"No part of you disgusts me," I say, and let my tongue do the talking.

"Charlie, wait." He tugs gently on the back of my hair, making me raise my head again. "I want you to fuck me for real."

I wipe my mouth. "You want to... right now?"

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