Work Text:
It's 2 fucking pm when Lyle finally saunters down into the living room and sprawls out on the couch. He must have just showered, because the smell of soap saunters in right along with him and his hair is still damp when Halle curls his fingers into it and pulls.
Lyle makes a pleased sort of a noise and grins up at Halle over the back of the armrest. "Morning, sunshine."
Halle grins right back. "You're a lazy fuck."
Lyle puts on his best 'I'm fucking innocent, officer' smile and says, "What, I'm not allowed to lie-in when I've got the week off work?"
"I don't give a shit when you wake up." Halle releases Lyle's hair and Lyle stretches out on the couch, toes curling, back arching, and Halle's not going to take the bait. Not yet. "My problem," says Halle, reaching his fingers down to press into the soft flesh beneath Lyle's jaw, nails scratching up over the stubble, "is that you are too lazy to fucking shave."
Lyle pouts up at him. "Maybe I want to grow a beard."
"And maybe I'll fucking shave you if you won't fucking do it yourself." Halle ignores the way Lyle lights up, and grabs his bag. Lyle might have the week off work, but some fuckers around here are on shift in 30 minutes.
"Have fun~" calls Lyle as Halle stalks out the door.
***
24 hours later and Lyle's starting to look like some kind of hobo. All he's missing is the ratty-ass dog and the pants stained with alcohol and piss (and that's only because he refuses to wear anything other than underwear in this heat).
"It's designer stubble," says Lyle.
"It's designer fucking bullshit," says Halle. He picks Lyle up by the back of his collar. "Come on. It's time to have a shave."
Lyle lets Halle drag him into the bathroom, putting up token resistance and trying to look like this isn't what he'd wanted all along.
He's a useless fucking liar.
Halle picks up a chair along the way, and once they're in the bathroom, Halle puts it down and forces Lyle to sit. Lyle turns around immediately, watching with barely-contained delight as Halle opens up the bathroom cabinet to get out the shaving foam.
"Sit fucking still," says Halle as he lathers up. Lyle does as he's told, turning back around and letting Halle spread the foam over his chin, but it's clearly only because he's waiting for the fun to start. Halle can practically smell his anticipation.
"Oi," says Lyle, as Halle rinses his hands and walks out into the hall, "where are you going?" Lyle points to the side of the bath. "My razor's over there."
Halle snorts. "Who said anything about using your fucking razor?"
Lyle whimpers, but Halle ignores him and goes to their bedroom instead. Let the fucker stew for a bit. Halle opens the closet, and there in front of him is the little wooden box that he bought this morning. It cost a pretty fucking penny too, but the antique store owner had an eye for craftsmanship; Halle can't fault him for that.
The catch opens with a small click and Halle lifts the lid to reveal two razors. None of your fucking pansy safety-razors these. No, these are two straight-razors with polished ivory handles and glinting 6-inch steel blades. Sweeney Todd, eat your fucking heart out.
When Halle returns to the bathroom, Lyle is already half-hard, rubbing himself through his briefs. He stops, when Halle enters, and he moans as he spots the razor in Halle's hand.
"Fuck, Halle," Lyle shudders as Halle takes a step closer. Lyle's eyes don't leave the blade once, and he twists round in his seat as Halle takes up position behind him.
As nice as it is to see Lyle interested, it's going to be really fucking hard to shave him like that.
"Face forward," commands Halle.
Lyle does as he's told, and he's quick about it too. He's breathing faster now he can't see the blade, and Halle can't help the grin that curls over his face at the sight.
Halle puts a hand on top of Lyle's head and slowly brings the razor into the line of Lyle's vision, the steel shining in the light of the bulb. Lyle moans, and licks his lips, watching the razor with wild eyes, following it down as Halle moves it toward his neck. Halle uses Lyle's hair to yank his head back up. "I said, sit fucking still."
Lyle moans, but once again his head dips as he tries to keep the blade within sight. Halle doesn't know if he's doing it to be an annoying prick or if he can't help himself. Either way, it needs to fucking stop.
"Are you going to sit still, or am I going to have to fucking make you?"
Lyle grins, and Halle knows what the answer is going to be before Lyle's even said a fucking word.
"Fucking make you, it is then." Halle wraps his left arm around Lyle's forehead, hard enough that Lyle won't be able to move his head, even if he tried. And he does try, the fucker, which just makes Halle's grip tighten even more.
Lyle whimpers as Halle tilts Lyle's head back to expose his neck, his breath coming out fast. Halle places the blade to Lyle's adam's apple and he can almost hear Lyle's heart pounding. The smell of Lyle's arousal is joined by a wave fear, washing around them in a way that makes Halle grow hard in his pants. But that's ok, because Lyle is even harder, cock straining within the confines of his underwear.
The blade glints beneath Lyle's chin.
Lyle shivers. "Halle..."
The razor moves and Lyle moans, but Halle doesn't cut, he shaves, hands deft and fast, blade flashing. Lyle shudders. It might not be the exact pain that Lyle is after, but Halle is not so callous as to give him nothing. No, the delightful thing about this razor, as Halle checked earlier, is not that it is sharp, but that it is blunt. It scratches and scrapes over Lyle's stubble, and it might take Halle twice as long to shave him as it would with a sharp razor, but by the end of it, Lyle's clean-shaven skin is red and burning raw and both Lyle and Halle are achingly hard.
Lyle is still panting, even as Halle wipes him down with a towel and turns to rinse the razor in the wash-basin.
"You filthy fucking tease!" complains Lyle. "You get a razor like that and you don't even..."
But Lyle doesn't finish the end of his sentence, because Halle has turned on his heel, quick as a flash, the blade in his hand slicing through Lyle's shoulder.
Lyle gasps, eyes wide, his back arching. "You..." he says, voice cracking, as Halle moves around to sit in his lap, leaning forward to taste the blood running down Lyle's arm.
Now this is more fucking like it.
Halle reaches down with one hand to pull Lyle's cock out of his briefs, stroking it as he cuts a slow path down Lyle's bicep with the other.
Lyle's eyelids flutter and he moans some more. Because the thing with this devilish, blunt, little razor is that it doesn't cut easily. A sharp razor would cut quick and clean, but to use this one, Halle has to press hard, with the cut shallow, but jagged and raw and oh so painful.
"You wonderful, teasing bastard," gasps Lyle as he scrabbles to undo Halle's jeans and pull out his cock.
Halle cuts his way along the outside of Lyle's thigh and laughs. "You didn't think I'd go to the trouble of buying a razor, only to fucking shave you, did you?"
Lyle sniggers, fisting their cocks between his hands, blood running between his fingers. "For a second there," he pants, "I kinda did!"
Halle slashes into Lyle's other shoulder, following the cut with his tongue. "Teach you not to make fucking assumptions then!" But he doesn't have long to gloat before Lyle drags his head up for a kiss, moaning at the taste of blood on Halle's tongue.
***
Later, as Lyle runs his hand through the mixture of blood and semen on his stomach, Halle sits back and surveys his handiwork. "Looks like I'm going to have to stich a few of these fuckers back up."
Lyle licks at his fingers, seemingly not having heard Halle at all. "Jesus," Lyle says absently, "I don't think I'm ever going to shave myself again, if this is what happens."
Which would be all well and good, if the reason Halle had bought the razors was to make Lyle scream his name, rather than to stop Lyle looking like a lazy hobo fucker.
Halle bites one of the wounds to get Lyle's attention. Lyle makes a strangled noise and Halle grins at him. "You are going to fucking shave yourself, or I'm going to sell my razors to the first person who'll fucking take them."
"Hey!" Lyle pouts. "That's not fair!" He goes to give Halle a kick, but Halle's already gotten up and danced out of the way.
Halle pulls the first-aid kit out of the bathroom cabinet and gives Lyle a grin. "Life's not fair, sweetcheeks." He opens the kit and picks out one of the needles. "Now stop fucking complaining or I'm going to use anaesthetic."