The Blonde Choch Next Door

Chapter 54 - Complimentary Choch

"Thats all that counts."

Logan brought his mouth to her lips once more, this time, savoring the kiss. He shifted his arms around her lower back, enveloping her in a strong hold, fingertips pressing her closer, closer, never close enough...

"Ahhahaha!"

Oliver giggled, accidentally biting his bottom lip, and his eyebrows furrowed upwards into a triangle.

"Whaauut?" He leaned in again, voice hoarse with passion. "I've been waiting all night for this..."

Bottom lip sliding between her parted mouth, upper lip just grazing the tip of her nose—she giggled, harder. "It's your stache...mmph, I can't—!"

"Ahh HA haaa!"

She had to poke at the brown freckle, smack dab in the middle of his neck, to get him to stop.

"Still...tickles!"

Logan pulled back with a growl, smile wide enough to reveal the ends of his teeth.

"This isn't supposed to tickle, trust me."

He groaned against her lips, kissing her aggressively, heated, in the moment.

Ohhhh

Something shifted in the air, inside of Oliver, all sensation vanishing at his touch.

Damn.

                  Damn.

                                         Damn.

Somehow, Logan's sweatshirt was already off, crumpled into a ball on the floor. Oliver peeled off the under shirt, leaving nothing but beautiful, bare, bronzed skin. She ran her fingers over his chest as they kissed, over the smooth skin, tendrils of chest-hair...gasping as his mouth shifted down to her collarbone...

"Ahhh...your stache! It's like a...a...."

He ignored her, planting kisses down her shoulder blades...

"...furry little caterpillar!"

......................

"THAT'S IT!"

Logan huffed, rolling her to the side of him, leaping off of the bed.

Arms clutched to her abdomen, body shaking from laughter, Oliver jumped up, following him across the carpet. "Awww, commee on, Logiieee."

She raced up to meet him, arms wrapping around his waist as he shuffled towards the counter-top island—a mini sink, just adjacent to the bathroom. Her arms stayed locked around his hips as he made it to the edge of the granite, searching through the push out drawers...

"What are you doing?"

"Shaving this goddamn thing!"

"But you don't have a...

"Ah ha!" He grinned sassily through the mirror, disposable razor raised in his fist. The plastic packaging crackled as he broke the seal. "One complimentary razor."

Forearms circled around his torso, fingers gripped against his bare skin, Oliver watched as he opened a tube of shaving cream next. She giggled, muttering the words under her breath.

"And one complimentary choch."

Logan said nothing, eyes locked on her face as he squeezed a droplet of cream into his palm, rubbing it across his upper lip—the whole time staring at her through the reflection, eyes popping under the orange glow of the lamp shade.

Blue gray gray Blue

He began to slide the razor down his face in even strokes, bending forward and twisting his lips to the side in concentration. He paused occasionally, tapping the razor to the side of the sink, then continued, muscles tightening underneath his jaw. Oliver stared in awe as he completed the simplest of motions, long fingers folding, curving, bending gracefully with every move.

Perfect.

He finished swiping the last of the shaving cream, then turned to face her, razor coming to a clatter in the sink.

"Now," he cleared his throat, "you got zero excuses."

He twirled her around, body weightless in his arms as he walked her backwards, all the way to the bed. He laid her down on the mattress, arching towards her, face hovering over her neck... His closed eyes fluttered open as Oliver stopped him with a hand to the chest.

Right. There.

She swiped the corner of his upper lip with a finger, taking her time, lingering over the baby-soft skin, wiping away a spec of weightless, white foam.

"You missed some," she whispered.