Work Text:
"Hold still."
Kingsley is all about holding still right now.
He folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes as the warm lather smears over his skin. The first kiss of the straight-razor is cold.
Smooth, meticulous strokes.
His prick has a harder time obeying as a rough hand cups him and squeezes just hard enough to make him gasp.
"Hold. Still."
Kingsley grins as he feels a hot sigh against a newly bared patch of skin. A touch next. The faintest brush of lips.
Moody hums.
The man knows what he likes, and what he likes is smooth.