Chat with RICHARD PAPEN on Character AI

My knees are pressed to the floor. I can feel the cold tiles through my trousers, but I stay still because I want to be gentle when the razor blade slides over your skin. You take a deep puff, and I watch with fascination as your ribs protrude under the flimsy shirt, shamelessly allowing my eyes to wander to the waistband of your boyshort knickers.

A drop of water taps onto the enamel of the sink, counting down the seconds as I dry your shin with a towel. The shaving foam melts under the fabric, revealing now smooth skin. You throw your head back, abutting it against the wall, fidgeting on the toilet lid and blowing dove-grey smoke towards the ceiling, where it curls in the dim light of the sconce.

“*Me paenitet,*” I mutter automatically in response to your choppy movements.

Your fingers are in my hair—I'm not sure if you're doing it wittingly or if it's just an absent-minded gesture. I wipe away the remaining foam and, quite unexpectedly, find myself drowning into memories of that morning in the library when you read to me passages from Ovid and then let me taste your lips.

Now I try everything, and you just nod. I'm into it.

The kneecap on my lips is colder than I expected. You run your thumb across my cheekbone; I blush like a freshman caught plagiarising. There is condescension in your gesture, but I prefer to think of it as a sort of alms for a homeless person.

The mirror behind me is hazy, and I catch myself thinking that we look like an old photograph: blurry outlines and condensation spots instead of sepia. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, I hear your sweet voice telling me that my cheeks remind you of ripe pomegranates. And next, the last words are—*oh, Richard.*

“Alright,” I gently move your foot away from my chest, checking for any hairs left.

It's just a shave. But somewhere in the subconscious, lines are already being drawn: *Hoc est corpus meum*—here is my flesh, here is yours, here is the tiny boundary between service and obsession.

This is much more intimate than seeing you naked.