Ode to Demi Moore | Pinto | PG
Title: Ode to Demi Moore
Rating: PG
Length: ~900
Warnings: Nada. Unbeta’ed, so the mistakes are mine.
Summary: A trek_rpf_kink prompt: Chris is the one who cut Zach’s hair.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately. Or New York.
Chris slouched in the doorway, his temple pressed against the wooden frame. His lips curved as he wished he’d brought his camera on this impromptu trip. Then again, he supposed some moments were too intimate for even film to capture.
Clad only in black, supple yoga pants, Zach sat hunched on the thick concave of the claw-foot tub, his head bowed. Mid-morning sunlight dappled through gossamer curtains, glinting against that lush mane of hair. The bright white of the bathroom lent stark symmetry to the inky lines of Zach’s lanky silhouette.
His smile broadened when Zach stretched out one lean leg to the opposite edge of the tub, and a slim silver toe ring refracted the light. God, Chris had missed him.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked, padding barefoot over the icy tiles.
Zach lolled his head back and to the side, the dark sweep of his brows scrunching together.
“Just do it already.”
Passing by on the way to the sink, Chris carded his fingers through Zach’s messy locks. Zach leaned into the caress like a feline, eyes shut and a soft hum on his lips. Chris reluctantly slipped away, but returned to Zach’s back a moment later with a pair of long, slim scissors.
“I need to cut off the length of it first.”
Zach grunted his assent. The contours of his shoulders were taut and bunched. Chris leaned forward and loosely draped his arms around Zach’s shoulders, careful to point the scissors away from their bodies. He smothered a laugh against Zach’s hair. The thick mass of it smelled of grass and sun; Central Park, and no styling products.
“It’ll grow back. Think of it as an ode to Demi Moore.”
Chris could feel the light shudder of a restrained chuckle. Zach straightened and tilted his head back to meet Chris’ eyes. “That is a good movie.”
Pleased with the warmth reflected in those amber depths, Chris grinned and placed a loud, smacking kiss on Zach’s forehead. “Let’s do this.”
A deep breath. “Okay.”
Sifting a chunk of hair between his fingers, Chris held it up and lopped off a clump at random. Silky strands fluttered to the floor, dusted Zach’s pale shoulders. For several minutes, the only sounds echoing off the walls were that of their mingled breaths and the dry rasp of scissors closing. When Chris was finished, he set the scissors aside and grabbed a hand towel. He dusted off Zach’s back and shoulders, snorting a quiet laugh when Zach’s fingers tentatively went to his hair.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Chris warned, even as Zach dragged his hand through the spiky catastrophe atop his head. “It looks like a four year-old tried to cut your hair. Fangirls around the world are weeping without comprehending why.”
“The collective consciousness senses my anguish,” Zach murmured dryly, and dropped his hand to his lap.
“Of course they do, babe.” Chris reached for the clippers, double checking that the length was set correctly. He gently pressed a hand to Zach’s head, silently indicating he should tilt his head forward.
Zach complied, and without lingering on the moment, Chris switched on the machine and began at the nape of Zach’s neck. Discarded fuzz gathered on Chris’ hand with each meticulous path of razor over scalp. Each row of newly shorn hair betrayed the white flesh on the crown of Zach’s head.
There was something cathartic about shedding away this layer of Zach. Of all the manners Chris had seen him, it had never been exactly like this; bare, so unusually exposed. More important than that, was the confidence Zach entrusted in Chris to do this. In reality, it shouldn’t have meant as much as it did; but Chris didn’t tend to take his valuable relationships lightly. No act of faith should go unappreciated.
Flipping the clippers over, Chris painstakingly traced out the even edge of Zach’s hairline at the nape. Once he was satisfied of its perfection, Chris placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. He pitched his voice above the grating buzz of the razor. “I need to do your sideburns.”
Zach nodded and flipped his legs over the side of the tub, turning to sit before Chris. Going to his knees between Zach’s legs, Chris narrowed his eyes in concentration. He barely registered the amused curl of Zach’s lips, so intent was he on evening out the sideburns.
With a frown and a nod, Chris flicked off the clippers and continued to scrutinise Zach’s hair. Zach ran a hand over the bristled texture, his darting gaze betraying his nerves. Oh, and his eyes appeared so much larger, sharper than they ever had. “What - what are you looking at?”
“I’m just making sure it’s perfect.”
“Give me a mirror and I’ll decide.”
“Don’t trust me, huh?” Chris teased, but he got up and retrieved a hand mirror.
“Never.” Zach was still running his hands over his head, sending stray motes of hair fluttering through the air. He stopped when the mirror was presented to him, and took it without hesitation. Silence prevailed as he inspected the style from all angles.
Chris realised he was shifting from one foot to the other, awaiting the verdict.
Zach set the mirror on his lap, and smiled up a Chris. “Oh yeah, just like Demi Moore.”
A laugh bubbled up in Chris’ throat, which he extinguished with a clumsy kiss.
“Totally.”
Rating: PG
Length: ~900
Warnings: Nada. Unbeta’ed, so the mistakes are mine.
Summary: A trek_rpf_kink prompt: Chris is the one who cut Zach’s hair.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately. Or New York.
Chris slouched in the doorway, his temple pressed against the wooden frame. His lips curved as he wished he’d brought his camera on this impromptu trip. Then again, he supposed some moments were too intimate for even film to capture.
Clad only in black, supple yoga pants, Zach sat hunched on the thick concave of the claw-foot tub, his head bowed. Mid-morning sunlight dappled through gossamer curtains, glinting against that lush mane of hair. The bright white of the bathroom lent stark symmetry to the inky lines of Zach’s lanky silhouette.
His smile broadened when Zach stretched out one lean leg to the opposite edge of the tub, and a slim silver toe ring refracted the light. God, Chris had missed him.
“Are you sure?” Chris asked, padding barefoot over the icy tiles.
Zach lolled his head back and to the side, the dark sweep of his brows scrunching together.
“Just do it already.”
Passing by on the way to the sink, Chris carded his fingers through Zach’s messy locks. Zach leaned into the caress like a feline, eyes shut and a soft hum on his lips. Chris reluctantly slipped away, but returned to Zach’s back a moment later with a pair of long, slim scissors.
“I need to cut off the length of it first.”
Zach grunted his assent. The contours of his shoulders were taut and bunched. Chris leaned forward and loosely draped his arms around Zach’s shoulders, careful to point the scissors away from their bodies. He smothered a laugh against Zach’s hair. The thick mass of it smelled of grass and sun; Central Park, and no styling products.
“It’ll grow back. Think of it as an ode to Demi Moore.”
Chris could feel the light shudder of a restrained chuckle. Zach straightened and tilted his head back to meet Chris’ eyes. “That is a good movie.”
Pleased with the warmth reflected in those amber depths, Chris grinned and placed a loud, smacking kiss on Zach’s forehead. “Let’s do this.”
A deep breath. “Okay.”
Sifting a chunk of hair between his fingers, Chris held it up and lopped off a clump at random. Silky strands fluttered to the floor, dusted Zach’s pale shoulders. For several minutes, the only sounds echoing off the walls were that of their mingled breaths and the dry rasp of scissors closing. When Chris was finished, he set the scissors aside and grabbed a hand towel. He dusted off Zach’s back and shoulders, snorting a quiet laugh when Zach’s fingers tentatively went to his hair.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Chris warned, even as Zach dragged his hand through the spiky catastrophe atop his head. “It looks like a four year-old tried to cut your hair. Fangirls around the world are weeping without comprehending why.”
“The collective consciousness senses my anguish,” Zach murmured dryly, and dropped his hand to his lap.
“Of course they do, babe.” Chris reached for the clippers, double checking that the length was set correctly. He gently pressed a hand to Zach’s head, silently indicating he should tilt his head forward.
Zach complied, and without lingering on the moment, Chris switched on the machine and began at the nape of Zach’s neck. Discarded fuzz gathered on Chris’ hand with each meticulous path of razor over scalp. Each row of newly shorn hair betrayed the white flesh on the crown of Zach’s head.
There was something cathartic about shedding away this layer of Zach. Of all the manners Chris had seen him, it had never been exactly like this; bare, so unusually exposed. More important than that, was the confidence Zach entrusted in Chris to do this. In reality, it shouldn’t have meant as much as it did; but Chris didn’t tend to take his valuable relationships lightly. No act of faith should go unappreciated.
Flipping the clippers over, Chris painstakingly traced out the even edge of Zach’s hairline at the nape. Once he was satisfied of its perfection, Chris placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder. He pitched his voice above the grating buzz of the razor. “I need to do your sideburns.”
Zach nodded and flipped his legs over the side of the tub, turning to sit before Chris. Going to his knees between Zach’s legs, Chris narrowed his eyes in concentration. He barely registered the amused curl of Zach’s lips, so intent was he on evening out the sideburns.
With a frown and a nod, Chris flicked off the clippers and continued to scrutinise Zach’s hair. Zach ran a hand over the bristled texture, his darting gaze betraying his nerves. Oh, and his eyes appeared so much larger, sharper than they ever had. “What - what are you looking at?”
“I’m just making sure it’s perfect.”
“Give me a mirror and I’ll decide.”
“Don’t trust me, huh?” Chris teased, but he got up and retrieved a hand mirror.
“Never.” Zach was still running his hands over his head, sending stray motes of hair fluttering through the air. He stopped when the mirror was presented to him, and took it without hesitation. Silence prevailed as he inspected the style from all angles.
Chris realised he was shifting from one foot to the other, awaiting the verdict.
Zach set the mirror on his lap, and smiled up a Chris. “Oh yeah, just like Demi Moore.”
A laugh bubbled up in Chris’ throat, which he extinguished with a clumsy kiss.
“Totally.”