#belle thoughts

He so would use an old-school razor blade, that’s so unbearably Matty. You’re just sitting on the counter watching him get ready, and then it’s your favorite part: when he shaves. You’re tingling all over the moment he takes out the blade, watching the way his fingers steadily curl around it as he brings it to his cheek, his eyes intense and focused in the mirror. You can’t help it! Your mind is wandering as he carefully drags it along his face, watching his experienced hands that know how not to nick himself. Your face gets hot as you imagine him taking the same razor across your thighs, between your breasts, along the slope of your neck. Just the coolness of the metal against your burning skin, those same careful hands guiding the blade. You’re trying to ease the ache pooling inside you by pushing your thighs together and Matty clocks it immediately, glancing at you through the mirror as he scrapes away the fluffy white foam. He asks you what’s up and you just kinda gape at him, watching as he rinses the razor in the sink, his calloused fingers running over the metal. He whistles to get your attention, your eyes snapping back up to his now clean-shaven baby face. 

“Asked you a question. What is it, baby?” he says, even though he’s already putting the pieces together with the way your gaze lingers on the blade in his hands. 

You don’t even know how to answer him, your mouth hanging open dumbly. How do you tell your boyfriend that you want him to do something like that to you? Although, you have a nagging suspicion that he’d be more than happy to indulge you. He turns the razor over in his hand, admiring the way it shines under the bathroom lighting. 

“Ohh, is it this?” he purrs, a smirk pulling at his lips, all too pleased. 

You feel yourself throb as he approaches you with the blade, spreading your legs so he can stand between them on the counter. He’s SOOO fucking cocky about it because now he’s got something to hold over you, he’s the only one who can make your wet dreams become reality. 

He teases you some more, saying shit like “You’re so dirty, love. If only I’d known,” and “Have you thought about it a lot? Me holding a blade to you?” and “shit, I’m going to love watching you squirm,” all while he’s holding your thighs open, the razor in one hand still flicked open. You’re practically dying, just sitting there and taking all the teasing while he's got the flat side of the razor against your thigh as you get uncomfortably wet.

“Shh, shh I’m gonna take care of you” he shushes before picking up the razor again.

He starts by slowly running it over your thigh, being incredibly careful as he drags the tip of the blade against your skin. You’re moaning already and he’s just started. The tension in the air is so so palpable

“Do. not. fucking. move.” he says, such a serious look in his eyes that it has you immediately nodding in agreement.

He keeps going, experimenting with the way he holds the blade while still being very careful not to nick you as you shudder at the feeling. Soon, he’s got your top off and he’s running it over your tits, dragging the flat side of it across your peaked nipples just to watch you struggle to keep still at the feeling of the cool metal. He’s really enjoying himself now, more than he thought he would. You trust Matty with your life, but danger still pulses in your veins as he brings the razor higher, over your collarbones until it’s under your chin, tilting your head up to make you look at him with the flat of the blade. You just whimper, you’re such a mess, the dominating air about him as he finds his stride is so overwhelming.