Nothing to be Sorry About by Lavro

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Nothing to be Sorry About

Anderson could never really explain why he was so fascinated with men’s hair, why it pulled his gaze, finding himself powerless to refuse the temptation to stare, gawk, yearning to touch. Throughout his college years he kept his fantasy to himself, exploring the bodies of his fellow classmates, being sure to run his hand up the back of their head whenever a soiree became physically intimate. It was never really just the hair itself, but when it was freshly cut, short, stubbly, textured, soft. In the same vein, if a classmate walked in with a fresh haircut, he always noticed, regardless of his general attraction towards them.

While Anderson so wholly fixated his erotic tendencies on haircuts, he was quite afraid to try any short hair styles for himself. So many guys at that point had these sharp skin fades, longer hair on top, either cropped or side-parted, or left long and unruly. The truth was, Anderson had always had scissor cuts, never brave enough to let the clippers touch him, save for the trimmer to get around his ears and neck. It scared him. He would go to one of the many university barbers, sit and wait his turn- the longer the better- watching guys get their fades cut tight. If he was lucky, someone ahead of him would be in the shop, tired of maintaining their longer hair, and ask for a buzzcut.

Anderson loved his own long hair, neatly trimmed around the ear, slightly longer in the back, very light brown nearing dark blonde, parted just off center, each long curtain tucking behind his ear and meeting the back in uniform length. It was a suave, pushed back look that he would trim every month or two, more so to get to watch the other guys get theirs cut. He would taper his sideburn and have the back trimmed so it kept the same style he maintained for years.

Yet, having graduated and finding a job, and moving far from the college town area, visiting the barbershop had less appeal, and his tidy cut grew longer than it ever had, starting to curl up at the back and hang above his shoulders. He had visited a new barber once since he moved, but the older man had cut the back too short, and he never wanted to experience that again. He had also let his body get out of shape, his normal moderately muscular frame was beginning to look less appealing to himself, and he knew he would have to get back into shape if he wanted to try dating again. It was late February, and the winter had taken its toll. He wanted to be in shape again by summertime.

So, Anderson found himself at the gym, almost forgetting how to do it right, feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. It was only a couple weeks into his regular workout that he noticed someone: a young, tall, tan man, about his age, with very dark wavy hair. He was curling free weights with precision. Anderson felt immediate attraction toward him and found himself staring at his hair. He had one of those haircuts that left the top long and styled it forward, curling up just out of his eyes, the back and sides clippered short, and blended smoothly. It was full and thick, desirable. He tried to complete his workout, hoping the muscular hunk would go away, but he didn’t.

It was like this for several weeks. Anderson would go to the gym three or four times, and at least once a week he would see this young stud, his newest fascination. He even believed that the man would occasionally look at him too. He also noticed that he hadn’t gotten a haircut lately, and that his neckline had become overgrown and quite messy. Whenever Anderson saw something like that, he wholly desired to sit them down and shave off all of that unappealing neck fuzz. It just looked so bad to him. The thought made him feel the back of his own neck, under the long hair. It too was completely overgrown. The thought drove him crazy, and he began to get excited, knowing it was time for him to get another trim.

He spent an hour pouring over the internet to find the right barber, picking a shop called Ben’s Barbershop that seemed like it could accommodate his usual cut, unlike the last one. It made him nervous, yet he found the small modern shop in the next town over and scheduled an appointment. Anderson was disappointed that nobody else was in the shop getting a haircut. He was met by a friendly barber who seemed slightly apprehensive to cut long hair. He was a bit stout but had handsome features, a tight fade and a perfectly cut beard.

In the chair, with the neck strip tied tight and a solid black cape, Anderson always felt his best. This was the first time ever that the barber had to pull his hair from under the cape. He was shown a picture of how Anderson wanted the cut, and he grabbed his scissors. He just began a free hand cut, starting at the back and scissoring off several inches of dry hair. This made Anderson’s eyes go wide.

"Don’t worry, just removing bulk," he said as large chunks of long hair piled on his shoulder.

The barber then wet his hair, brushed it back, trimmed it all over, edging in a sharp masculine sideburn. He combed it back to make sure it was even, and all sat in a good shape at his neck, tucked behind his ears. He then took the trimmer and cut the back bluntly, shorter, taking off all of the neck fuzz and leaving Anderson only slightly shorter than he hoped, but his haircut was fresh and clean. He was amazed how much hair came off, sitting in piles on his lap and the floor. It was arousing to him.

"Beard too?" the barber asked. The question seemed funny, as Anderson could barely grow a beard, unaware at how much stubble he had accumulated. He nodded, and the barber took the trimmer all over his face, his appearance now neater than it had been in a long time.

As the barber dusted him off and removed the cape, something occurred to Anderson: without the distraction of other men in the barbershop, he was genuinely aroused at seeing his own hair come off. He was always so focused on others. Now, he understood his nervousness, his reluctance. Something both compelled him and prevented him from wanting his hair cut. Something deep inside of him wanted to see more of it go, wanted to try something new and bold. His thoughts on this were interrupted by a new wave of anxiety, and he shut them away into the dark corners of his mind.

At home, with his fresh haircut, clean face, and a month of working out, he noticed he was starting to like how he looked again, even if there was still some progress to go. In fact, he was struggling to exercise productively, always feeling embarrassed if a lot of people were at the gym, especially that guy who he was so attracted to. It was time to push hard, to work on himself, to craft his image the way he felt best.

He went back to the gym that very day, feeling on fire, ready to conquer. Amid his workout, looking in the mirror he saw that man arrive, tank top on, with dark beard scruff. He walked up to the machine next to Anderson and began to stretch deeply. He already had a slight glimmer of sweat on him. They had never been that close, but Anderson was contemplating saying something, but all of the words stuck in his throat. To his surprise, the guy looked over to him, rising from a toe touch and cocking his head.

"Fresh cut looks good," he said smiling a dashing grin, stretching his triceps. "Where did you get it done? I’m new around here."

"A place called Ben’s, not far from here," Anderson replied, trying to seem casual.

"Ben’s, got it," he ran his hand through his hair, "I’m Ezra by the way."

"Anderson," he smiled back at him.

"Hey, I’ve noticed we come here a lot at the same time. We should work out together."

"You know, I could actually use some pointers. I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing," Anderson replied, simultaneously flirty and embarrassed.

"You said it, not me," he gave him another devilish grin. "What are your goals?"

And so, the two began to talk fitness, Ezra obviously more experienced, with his muscular arms and tight torso, a physical specimen to marvel. Yet he balanced his body well, not looking too muscular so that it is unnatural. He was fit. Not that Anderson was out of shape, just not to Ezra’s standard, and he wanted to approach his level of fitness. After the pair had done a few sessions at the gym together whenever they happened to both be there, they eventually exchanged phone numbers and began to coordinate their meetings. It wasn’t until cool winter was turning to spring that Ezra finally visited Ben’s, getting his sides clippered short and finally, to Andersons extreme satisfaction, getting his neckline tapered to skin. He didn’t cut the top at all, and it was starting to hang in his eyes.

"You went to Ben’s?" Anderson started, "looks really good."

"You think so?" Ezra answered skeptically.

"You don’t?" Anderson retorted.

"Yes, it looks fine, but I am kinda wanting a bit of a change. I’ve been getting this same haircut forever."

"Like what?" Anderson pried, so desperately wanting to feel the stubble of his fresh taper.

"Honestly, I’ve never had a buzzcut, and have always wanted to try one." Anderson felt his pants tightening.

"I can’t imagine," Anderson replied, trying not to reveal himself.

"My hairline is terrible though," Ezra replied, pulling his hand to his forehead, and revealing his hairline. Anderson was amazed that it was almost perfect.

"What are you talking about? Your hairline is great."

"You think?" he doubted him. "What about you?" Ezra took a step towards him and pushed his hair back too, coming untucked from his ears and showing his own hairline, likewise still full, with very subtle indents at the corners. This was the first time they had touched like that, and Anderson found his blood swelling inside of him.

"I am scared to get trims. No chance I could get a buzzcut."

"I can tell you right now, you would rock it. Especially by summer when you are shredded."

"I don’t think that’s going to happen." Anderson replied, self-consciously.

That conversation stuck with Anderson, even weeks after. He fantasized about it, wanting to see Ezra get his hair buzzed short. He often thought of them together, in the gym, both of their heads neatly buzzed. He had never previously imagined himself like that, but it felt so good to ponder it, especially at Ezra’s suggestion. He even almost considered it, played every possible scenario in his mind, until another month had passed. He was clearly seeing the results of Ezra’s help. His body was leaner and more muscular, better than it would have been had he done the work without Ezra.

The two started to meet outside the gym too, getting lunches, playing video games, or going on jogs. Anderson was realizing that Ezra was a bit vain, he knew he was attractive, but sprinkled in buts of feeling unsure about himself. They never talked about romance, though Anderson disclosed he was gay. Ezra didn’t say anything about it. Sometimes, they would look into each other’s eyes, but Anderson had a hard time reading what that meant. There were other signs that Anderson could not read: an arm touch, lude comments, looking to see if Anderson was looking at him while he stretched.

By time May had come, Ezra was back to having that crazy hair again, and the top was even worse. Anderson noticed him getting frustrated with it in his eyes, and wanted to prompt him to cut it, but felt odd in doing so. Soon, it was curling up over his ears and at the back. Anderson too was due for another haircut, but he was holding off so he could enjoy a lot coming off again.

"Now that the weather is nicer," Ezra said while they were jogging around the park, "I have some weights at my house. I like to do my workout outside. How’s that sound?"

"Great," he panted in return, hot and sweaty. The thought excited him.

They started meeting at Ezra’s house, where the large back patio had a large awning for shade. He lived alone. Anderson was surprised at how nice he kept his home, genuinely enjoying being there. His own small apartment was a dump, no matter how much he tried to make it look nice. He enjoyed the comfort of Ezra’s home, the open space, the closeness he was getting with him. On a warm afternoon, outside during an intense workout, Anderson finally asked:

"You’re gay too, right?"

"Well, actually," Ezra responded timidly. "I don’t know."

"You don’t know? Have you ever been with a guy?"

"I’ve never talked about this. It’s a little…uncomfortable for me right now."

"I’m sorry, I-"

"Nothing to be sorry about!" he paused for a second, recovering himself and pushing the damp hair from his eyes. "Are you going back to Ben’s soon?"

"I wasn’t planning on it," Anderson felt an instant rush. "You are overdue for sure though."

"I’ve been putting it off. Still thinking about buzzing it, which I can do myself." Ezra had that apprehensive look again.

Anderson was doomed to obsess over this fascination, wanting more than anything to see Ezra buzz all of his curls off. There was, at that point, nothing else in the world he wanted more, but he did not know if he had the courage to pursue it, to push it, to help him make the move. A number of possible responses welled up inside of him, all lingering dry and nervous in his throat. He grabbed his water bottle and took a gulp.

"You have hair clippers here?" he asked at last.

"Yeah. Haven’t ever used them either."

"If you really want to do it," Anderson was getting very nervous, "I will do it for you." A huge knot formed in his chest. He couldn’t believe he just said that.

"Like, right now?" Ezra was incredulous.

"I mean, yeah, if you are serious. Why not?" Anderson was feigning confidence, but it projected well.

"Have you ever cut hair before?" Ezra was stalling his answer.

"I’ve trimmed my own once or twice. But it’s a buzzcut. One even length. Easy enough. You said it yourself."

"Ughhh," he exclaimed, visibly nervous, "I did say that" Anderson smiled at him. "What about you?" Ezra retorted wryly.

"Me? What about me?"

"Buzz your hair with me. You’ve had that same style for how long? Come on, it’ll make me feel better if we-"

"No! Absolutely not." He was very turned on.

"Come on, it’ll be so cool if we both do it," Ezra pleaded.

"No. Seriously. I’m not interested."

"Alright," Ezra seemed disappointed, like he was ready to commit, but needed Anderson to do it too.

They finished their workout without mentioning it again. Anderson drove back to his apartment and took a shower. He shampooed, conditioned, and brushed his hair, sweeping it back. It would not be dry for a long time he knew. He contemplated how much easier a buzzcut would be. He got on his phone and looked up pictures of buzzcuts, each one filling him with new excitement. He never realized how many variations there were, and frankly, they looked good. He had a lot of work to do and would not see Ezra again until the next week. He had time to contemplate it.

He thought about his and Ezra’s hair obsessively during their several days apart, both during the day and at night, when he was touching himself. His fantasies always included Ezra, but for the first time, he imagined Ezra using the clippers on him instead of himself. It was wholly fulfilling, something he craved, lusted after, but felt as if it would always be a fantasy.

When the time came to go back to Ezra’s, Anderson put on a tight-fitting tank top, showing his muscular body, newly toned arms and chest. He shaved his face again and tucked his hair behind his ears. The drive over felt longer than usual, as he dreaded and dreamed of the buzzcut conversation coming up again. He felt secure however, that he would not be buzzing his hair for Ezra. He just wished that Ezra would stop being so afraid too.

He parked and went up to the door of Ezra’s home. Deep down Anderson hoped that he had buzzed his hair already, to get him off the radar, while also hoping he didn’t because he wanted to do it himself. Ezra came to the door, shirtless and muscular, a bright smile, and a full head of shaggy curls, clean and dry.

"Hey Anderson, come on it. Looking good, man." Ezra smiled as he passed through the door. "Have a nice week?"

"No, it was busy and terrible. How about you?"

"Same. But hey, I did some thinking. Come here," he had that same big smile on his tan face as he tilted his head, telling Anderson to follow him. He led him down through the living room, bypassing the door to the back patio where they would normally work out. They went down the hallway, Anderson knowing where they were going. He stepped around the corner into Ezra’s bathroom.

It was not too tight of a space, large with a fairly sized mirror attached to the sink. In front of it was a kitchen chair with a towel over it. To his extreme surprise, Ezra also had the clippers laid out on the sink vanity, with five black plastic guards laid out in order. The room had good lighting and Ezra bounced nervously.

"I want it gone," he said, sitting down in the chair facing the mirror.

"Woa…" was all Anderson could muster at first. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, 100%. Even if you won’t do it with me." He fixed the towel around his shoulders. "Let’s do it so we can get on with our workout. Before I change my mind."

Anderson stepped in, looking at the clippers, a black and silver pair with the word Wahl printed on it. He had never so much as touched a pair of clippers before, but he had seen many videos online. It had no guard on it.

"How short do you want it?"

"I’m not sure. I don’t really get the guard numbers. What do you think?"

"Is this all the guards?" Anderson looked at the options. There was a #1 and a #2, and a #6, #7, #8.

"Yeah, I lost the rest."

"Ok, I think the #6 and higher is too long, right?"

"I guess, I don’t really know. But if I’m doing this, I’m doing it. Short as you can."

"No guard then?" Anderson smirked.

"Uh, no no," Ezra replied anxiously, "do the #1?"

Anderson didn’t retort. He picked up the #1 guard and snapped it on, knowing well the damage it would do. The clippers had a lever. He knew what that did too. He couldn’t help but to make sure it was closed tight, ensuring an even shorter cut. He almost felt bad but knew Ezra didn’t know the difference, and he said he wanted it short. He stepped up to him, Ezra sitting in the chair looking excited and terrified. For the first time, Anderson ran his hand through Ezra’s hair, twirling part of his fringe with his finger and pulling it down to the tip of his nose. It was deceivingly long. The two laughed as the sound of the clippers bursting to life filled the room. Goosebumps rose on Ezra’s skin.

He could hold back no longer. Anderson pressed the clipper against Ezra’s head at the side, in front of the ear. He ran them straight up, all the way to the crown of his head, and even a smidge further, so he could not change his mind. The clippings of loose curls fell to Ezra’s lap. He played with them with his fingers before looking up to see the clippers swipe up again, and again. Anderson did this until one entire side of his head was buzzed to a stubbly #1, revealing his scalp. Ezra rose his hand to the side and rubbed it, his jaw dropping.

Anderson pushed Ezra’s chin to his chest as he moved on to the back. Swipe after swipe the peeled away the man’s hair, each pass falling down his neck and cheek, and piling into his lap. Long hair still dangled in his face, even as Anderson kept coming around, up over the other ear, until the entire back and sides was shorn to stubble. Ezra raised his head, looking at himself amazed. Still standing behind him, Anderson gently lifted Ezra’s hair from his face and placed the clippers against his forehead. There was a pause.

"Do it," Ezra said with confidence.

Front to back, Anderson pulled the clippers until a large strip was buzzed into Ezra’s head, off center. Another swipe got rid the top half. He turned off the clippers at this, rubbing his stubbly head, pale white against his tan neck and face.

"Oh my god, I look crazy," Ezra laughed.

The sound of the clippers hummed to life again, and Anderson took another pass at the top, then another, until his entire head was rid of his dark rich curls, all of them piled in his lap, and on the floor around him. He continued to run the clippers all over, looking for loose hairs and making sure it was even. He took the guard off and used the clippers to carve out a sharp neckline, even if the hair was so short.

He stepped around the front of him to get any loose hairs at his fringe area, his perfect hairline. He clipped them off. Standing there like that, in his gym shorts, his midsection eye level with Ezra, his excitement was very noticeable. Ezra looked up at him in astonishment, even as Anderson became aware of himself. He stepped back, turned off the clippers and set them down.

"I, I’m sorry Ezra," he began.

"Nothing to be sorry about," the looked at each other for a long moment. Ezra looked better than ever, the buzzcut undoubtedly suiting him, masculine, sharp, and sexy. "Come here." He patted his lap.

Anderson couldn’t believe it, though he was filled with such a fire. He stepped in, sitting down on his lap and running his hand across Ezra’s head. The texture of his stubbly head met his hand in fantasy-like fashion, unbelievable yet undeniable. They found each other’s lips, kissing deeply and tenderly, Anderson’s hair falling forward and tickling Ezra’s head. The kissing turned more intense, and the young men began to passionately embrace, sweating and full of tension. Anderson took off his tank top, his erection rubbed against Ezra’s body as he cradled his lap, newly cut curls laying all about them. He couldn’t stop rubbing his hand over his fresh buzzcut, powerless to its appeal, drawn in and irresistible. The intensity was broken up by a loose hair in Ezra’s mouth, as he tried to pull it off of his tongue, Anderson looked at him longingly.

"This turns you on, doesn’t it?" Ezra teased knowingly, slightly nudging him to stand.

"What? No," he replied meekly, even as Ezra sat him in the chair, and threw the towel over his shoulders. Ezra leaned in and kissed him again. "Yes."

"You want yours buzzed too?"

"Please, Ezra, I can’t…" he kissed him again, longer, deeper, coaxing him. With their lips pressed together in impassioned embrace, Anderson, completely unable to control himself, ensnared by lust and the inability to deny Ezra, finally conceded "Do it."

Ezra now cradled him. Even though he was more muscular, he was not much bigger. He reached back and grabbed the clippers, still kissing him. He placed them at the back of his head. The sound of the clippers changed as it met his head, until very long almost blonde hair was piling on his shoulder. Anderson was in disbelief at the feel of the cold clipper blade. In that moment, he realized that he had taken the guard off of it and closed the taper. And Ezra passed it above his ear, pulling back from their kiss, a surprised look smeared itself across his face.

"Damn, that’s short," he said. "Wow." But he kept going, as if indifferent, buzzing the hair off the sideburn and the temple.

At last, Ezra stood up so that Anderson could see the damage in the mirror. One side of his head was almost completely hairless. Visibly and surprisingly much shorter than the #1 guard used on Ezra. Anderson began to feel a touch of panic mixed with his ecstasy. He loved and despised what had happened, that he so easily gave in to his urges, but so sloppily.

"F***," Anderson said. "Ok, hang on. Let’s just do the sides, ok? I can figure out what to do with it like that."

"Are you kidding me? You are going to look great. And you are right, this is hot."

"You think so?"

Anderson asked, but Ezra simply continued to cut his hair. Instead of going up the back, he went right for the top, so that he wouldn’t protest anymore. He ran those powerful clippers from his forehead to the back, and then down his head in clean even swipes. Soon, Anderson’s entire head was buzzed to the closest stubble possible, his likewise nice hairline only a feint imprint on his head. The mass of Ezra’s curls were now buried in Anderson’s pile of long shorn locks. He looked at himself in the mirror, unrecognizable. He was shirtless, toned, his hair buzzed, his face alive. Ezra stood next to him, hot, buzzed as well, smiling, and satisfied.
For the first time, Anderson felt right. Complete. It was as if he were looking at his true self for the first time. In that moment of shock and awe, all he wanted was Ezra, who leaned in and slowly rubbed his stubbly head, likewise white against his tan skin. One last time Ezra powered on the clippers, running them all over his head to cut any loose hairs off. He would not need his neckline done. He shut off the clippers, sweeping the hair up into a large pile. As he did this, all Anderson could do was stare at himself in shock, feeling enslaved by his urges, both defeated and victorious.

"I think we look good," Ezra said affirmatively. "You especially." Anderson didn’t reply. He looked up to his crush, beautiful and enticing.

"Want to shower off?" Ezra asked.

"Let’s cut yours with the 0," Anderson finally said.

Ezra grabbed the clippers and handed them to Anderson, who was still seated. Ezra kneeled on the ground in front of him, between his legs. Anderson brought the clippers back to life, and began to peel away Ezra’s buzzcut, until it was nothing but his scalp, just like Anderson. Rubbing it, he couldn’t believe how much better it felt to rub the 0 over the #1. Now, the two young men were even, their hair completely gone, and both of them loved it.

"How about a shower now?" Ezra said, looking up to him, now his hairline too just a suggestion.

Ezra rose, rubbing his head again and looking at himself in the mirror in disbelief. Turning on the shower water, he dropped his gym shorts and underwear. He stepped in, beckoning Anderson to join him.

Anderson followed.

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