Grown Men

fingers. “I’m not going to shave it. Fucking shame, really.”
    Ox cocked his oversized head and raised quizzical eyes to Runt.
    “Looks nice. This, I mean. The only gold we got out here.” Runt’s hands petted the soft gleam without thinking about it.
    The kneeling hulk closed his eyes and shook his head, once.
    Runt took his stroking hand away from Ox’s hair and looked at it like it belonged to some other man. “Last chance, knobjob.”
    The warm skull butted Runt’s chest with impatience, as if to say, “Get on with it.”
    Runt swallowed and realized his smooth chest was slick with sweat and his traitorous cock engorging in steady pulses. His skin sang. He stepped to the side so the damned thing wouldn’t nudge his overgrown partner. He started the clippers, and their drone filled the bathroom chamber.
    Tension melted from Ox’s muscles and he gave a quiet huff of pleasure. His head rolled forward and he was breathing deeply through his mouth as if hypnotized.
    He loves the hum.
    Runt brought the clippers to Ox’s temple and pressed firmly, shearing a stripe of hair free and leaving a stubbled wake. Sandy strands floated to the floor around them. As he worked, he traced the result with his hands, just to clear the blondish clippings. The handsome head felt like warm granite under his fingers. “Now . . . you really do look . . . like a big spokestar. We’ll have talent scouts . . . making offers.”
    Ox’s breath puffed against Runt’s arm, tickling.
    Gradually, Runt’s breath slowed until it mirrored the rise and fall of Ox’s chest. With painstaking attention, he cleaned one side of the chiseled skull and then the other.
    Ox grunted occasionally. He licked his parted lips, slowly, slowly . . . His eyes moved behind the lids like he was watching something in his trance.
    I wonder what.
    When Runt reached the golden crown, he hesitated. Without thinking, he dragged his bitten fingernails across Ox’s top with the slow scrape the giant seemed to crave. His whisper was hoarse when he finally asked, “Ox? Can I leave a little shine up here?”
    Ox’s face remained impassive as granite.
    Runt waited a moment then asked again gently, using the man’s given name for the first time. “ Oks’ayn . . . ?”
    Between the buzzing clippers and the scrape of nails across his scalp, Ox needed a second before he answered with a woozy shrug. He couldn’t even open his eyes to smile.
    On the thick neck, Runt saw the streak of dried semen that Ox had missed in his wee-hour cat-bath. Runt’s stiff shaft finally forced him to stand back and step behind his friend. His mouth filled with saliva.
    He was designed to be desirable. That’s all. Grown that way.
    Ox’s head rolled as Runt stroked him, the stubbled jaw almost scraping Runt’s skin. The pink tongue snuck out to wet his lip.
    We’ll have a hot shower, and then I can shave his face too.
    The bathroom seemed to shrink and warm around them. Ox’s shorn hair was all over the floor like soft wheat, and his giant penis had started to chub awake as well.
    Stop!
    Runt stepped away, breaking his own trance. “That fluff’ll irritate your skin. You ought to rinse off. Go grab a quick swim as well, yeah?”
    Because I have to jerk off again.
    Ox stood and seemed like he was about to say something, to ask something, but of course that was impossible. Runt turned his back and pretended to busy himself washing the clipped hairs off in the sink.
    What do I know?
    It wasn’t until he heard Ox go out the front door that he allowed himself to turn around and shut the door of the wash-space. Without even thinking, he knelt on the floor in Ox’s trimmings and pumped out another quick load, filling his lungs with his own itchy, delicious scent.
     

     
    All that day, Runt could feel Ox stealing sideways glances as they worked shoulder to shoulder on the new greenhouse and then again while they released a massive litter of squirmy eel pups into the cove. In the six weeks since Ox had arrived, the pups had darkened from glassy ribbons to silvery ropes.
    So much time .
    Ox stayed right beside him during each job they tackled.
    Consequently, Runt never found a chance to sneak away to pull out the next urgent load. The need to ejaculate kept his senses on edge. He kept tugging at his sweaty crotch and couldn’t stop himself; it felt too fucking good.
    Ox didn’t joke about that either.
    Luck’s fuckery, eh?
    Ox looked better for the grooming, and the gold hair