Laurent and the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 1)

He’d had no indication whatsoever that for Beast this was anything but providing help to a lost traveller, but being alone in such an enclosed space made Laurent’s thoughts wander. He tried to be graceful as he slowly removed the ugly clothes and made putting on the drawers a slow affair. The fabric was stretchy and pleasantly hugged the curve of his buttocks, as well as his cock and balls, and as he continued, Laurent entertained the thought that Beast enjoyed the view, just for the sake of his own pleasure. Beast was a scary man, but he was also a man of means and position, who could likely have anyone he wanted. Laurent’s back covered in goosebumps when he imagined a man like Beast lusting after him. Regardless of how that ended last time, fantasies were harmless, and the only expression of desire Laurent could allow himself.

Wandering from store to store, they also chose several shirts, soft, loose fitting jackets with hoods, and short stockings that did not need to be held by garters. The load to carry had become so heavy that at some point they made a trip to the car to leave the purchased goods, but despite the great number of things they obtained, Beast paid at each store, as if the money spent meant nothing to him. Beast hadn’t struck Laurent as someone with vast pockets at first, but as time passed at the mall, Laurent was beginning to think that he’d misjudged the man’s station. He wasn’t sure how much the items actually cost though, because the prices attached to them were usually too small for Laurent to read.

Even a new pair of black leather boots, similar to the ones Beast himself wore seemed to not be a big expense. And despite people secretly staring at Beast wherever he went, the moment he pulled out his money purse at a store, the attendants smiled widely and thanked him for his custom.

Laurent missed his own elegant clothes, but felt too enthusiastic about fitting in to worry, and eagerly changed into the new items as soon as he had a complete outfit.

“Is the music supposed to be so loud?” Laurent asked when they entered a store that assaulted him with the smell of soaps. It was a strange place, with colorful shelves featuring pictures of heavily painted faces, and some women were even applying the products to their persons in public! But no one paid them any mind, so he chose not to stare either, following Beast into an aisle between shelves filled with all kinds of bottles and jars—all made of the futuristic material that he now knew was called plastic.

In 2017 everything was made out of it. Chairs, cutlery, bottles, even clothes could be plastic! What an ingenious substance that was.

“Okay, choose whatever shampoo you want. You don’t need to use a whole bottle each time,” Beast told him, staying back.

“Oh.” Laurent licked his lips and rocked on his heels, unsure where to start. “What’s the one you use? It smells very nice.”

Beast was silent for two seconds. “I don’t think it would be best for you. I have short hair.”

Laurent sighed and after a bit of hesitation, picked up a pink bottle. If this store was like all the others, he was expected to make the choice on his own and pay upon exit. No one would help him make up his mind. “That’s a shame. I’ve never met a man who smells like you.”

“What do you mean?” came after yet another pause.

Laurent leaned closer and took a whiff of Beast’s smell, briefly closing his eyes when the distinctly masculine aroma made his skin tingle. “It’s so… fresh. Like lemons, and something else. Mint maybe?” He forced away the memory of Fane’s basement, all incense and rose petals combined with something even more sweet and sickly. The taste of apple seemed to still linger on Laurent’s lips.

“That’s my cologne. I mean... we could choose one for you later, but pick the basics first, yeah? What does it say on the back of this one?” Beast asked.

Laurent turned around the pink bottle with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The letters were so small he hadn’t even realized there was writing there at first. With his heartbeat speeding up in panic, he moved the bottle farther away from his eyes, but with the size of the letters, it was no use. Why hadn’t he taken his magnifying glass? He could have used it when Beast wasn’t looking.

“Shampoo… with r-rose?”

They were both silent as Laurent let the sense of shame wash over him, and no amount of bestial music playing in the background could ever distract him from the humiliation.

“You can’t read?” asked Beast in the end.

Laurent bit on the inside of his cheek and forced himself to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but it wasn’t helping. “I can. Of course I can. It’s just this writing. Over there,” he pointed to a grand painting on the wall, which showed a lady presenting her bare legs with a smile, “it says ‘Smooth like the boys in Paris. Moreau.’ And then, ‘Now with three razor action’.”