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Shampoo Boy (AFF version)	By : Animom57 Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4382 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the YuGiOh; Kazuki Takahashi and Konami do. I make no money on this fiction, and no infringement or disrespect is intended.

Chapter List
- 1-Shampoo Boy
- 2-chapter 2 (AFF version)
- 1
- 2
Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi and Konami, and is being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect is intended by this fanfiction.

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Shampoo Boy, ch 2

by Animom

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Joey flipped the deadbolt and yanked the salon door open.
"What the hell do you want?"
Kaiba glanced sourly at Joey's tight white t-shirt and black pants, then pushed past him into the salon. "I'm here to pick this up," he said, handing a slip of paper to Joey, which read 6 each thessaloniki sea shampoo and cdtnr.
"You gotta be kidding me," Joey said, locking the front door. He snatched a shopping bag from under the counter and walked into the darkness toward the salon's supply room. "Since when do you do errands?" Not expecting a reply, he snapped on the supply-room light and took down the box, then booted the computer.
"You need a computer to help you count?" Kaiba scoffed from the doorway.
"No, I need the computer to see how much money to charge you for this," he said as he transferred bottles from the box to the bag. He was determined not to let Kaiba get the upper hand, which meant staying calm.
Kaiba strolled over to the computer as Joey was putting the half-empty box of Thessaloniki Sea back on the shelf. "You call this a computer? It belongs in an antiques shop. Or a scrap heap."
"Well, Kaiba, not everyone needs top-of-the-line equipment to do their job. For what we do, it works." He elbowed Kaiba out of the way to check the price on the shampoo, then shut the computer down, picked up the shopping bag, and left the supply room, flicking the lights off with the small satisfaction of leaving Kaiba in the dark.
"So," Kaiba asked with his customary contemptuous half-laugh as he followed, "What is it that you do here? Clean the toilets?"
"Yep." Joey sat at the reception desk and started to write up a bill.
"Must be a relief that you found something you have the skills for."
Joey punched the adding machine, ignoring the goad. "One million, two hundred and forty-eight thousand yen." He shook his head as Kaiba took out a checkbook and began writing the check. It would take him months and months of being groped by customers – hell, maybe even a year – to get that much money, and yet Kaiba was dropping it on shampoo without blinking an eye.
As he took the check he saw Willoughby's copperplate handwriting on a faded piece of paper taped out of sight of customers: Si travay te bon bagay, moun rich ta prann l lontan. – If work were a good thing, the rich would've grabbed it a long time ago. "House painter, carpenter, cell phone salesman, cook, cleaner, landscaper, lifeguard, newspaper delivery, security guard, software tester ... and shampoo boy."

"What?"

"Just some of the things I've done besides clean toilets." Of course, no way in hell was he going to mention to Kaiba that, at his lowest point, he'd also spent two nights dancing in a loincloth at the GrapeVine, which led to a really really weird weekend as a spare flogger in a low-budget porn movie. He was pretty sure that desperation wasn't a concept that Kaiba could ever understand.

Kaiba seemed taken aback for a second, then clicked his pen, and put it and his checkbook back into his jacket. "Obviously you did none of those well, or you'd still be doing them."

"Most of them were helping friends out, or lucking into short-term gigs."

Kaiba turned to go.

"Don't forget Mokuba's shampoo," Joey said, holding up the shopping bag.

"Carry it to my car," Kaiba said, his back to Joey.

"Like hell," Joey said. "I'm not your slave."

"I'm a customer."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to kiss your ass."

Kaiba turned, disdainful, "But you would if I paid you to, is that it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Kaiba smiled in a very unpleasant way. "Shampoo boy, eh?"

Joey grabbed the shopping bag and stormed around the counter. "Where's your car?" He knew damn well that it was parked in front of the salon, but he'd needed to say something.

"Out front." Kaiba put his hand over the deadbolt, seemingly daring Joey to tussle with him if he wanted to unlock the door. "I hope your shampooing is better than your dueling."

"Even better. Now quit screwing around and move your hand."

"Show me."

"What?"

"Lather me up, shampoo boy," Kaiba said with a sneer.

"No way in hell." Joey tugged at Kaiba's arm, but he was immovable.

"Afraid to?"

"Afraid? What a – " Joey dropped the shopping bag. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just finish this stupid head-game so that I can go home." He strode to the sinks, started running the water, and grabbed a towel. He heard Kaiba walk towards him, cloth rustling as he took off his jacket and tie and shirt and set them on a chair.
He ground his teeth as Kaiba sat down. He wasn't sure if he was more angry or nervous to have Kaiba sitting there, taunting him in his undershirt, but either way if he lost it then Kaiba would win. All he needed to do was pretend that Kaiba was just like any other customer, and do his job. At least he didn't have to worry about being groped.
He folded the towel and slid it around Kaiba's neck and under his hair. "Lean back." Nope, there was no Kaiba here, there was just a head of hair that needed to be wetted. Medium coarseness, medium thickness. Completely and totally average, really, which struck Joey as funny.
'What?" Kaiba asked sharply.
"Nothing. You have a favorite brand of shampoo?"
"No." Kaiba frowned, as if the question was distasteful, and then said, "Nothing scented."
"Alright." Joey poured the salon's hypoallergenic house brand into his palm, rubbed his hands together to coat his fingers, and then began to work the shampoo into a lather.
Once he'd got past his initial embarrassment, he'd found that he looked forward doing shampoos. The feel and squelchy sound of the sudsy hair, the soft hiss of the running water, the thin skin of the scalp such a delicate protection for the hard skull beneath – it always took him out of himself, like meditation. He'd done it enough that he now had his routine perfected, alternating scalp massage with combing the lather through the hair with his fingers, mixing it up here and there by rubbing light circles on the customer's temples with his thumbs.
And then Kaiba shifted impatiently and cleared his throat, and Joey realized that he was getting carried away.
He quickly rinsed the hair, applied minimal conditioner, worked it though, then took a second towel and began to dry Kaiba's hair. After a few seconds Kaiba sat up, his back ramrod straight. Joey took a wide tooth comb, and, feeling mischievous now, stood in front of him to comb the brown bangs straight back, away from Kaiba's face. "Wow, you look like a whole different person."
Kaiba looked up at him. The dim light from the street revealed something in his half-shadowed face that made Joey step back, his heart pounding.
Kaiba grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm so that Joey was off-balance, and then pulled him into his lap, back to chest.
"Hey! Stop that!" Joey was strong, but it was scary how much stronger Kaiba was. His arm around Joey's waist was like an iron band. "Kaiba, seriously." He tried to get away, but stopped as soon as his brain registered that his squirming ass wasn't exactly helping the situation. Realizing that he'd get an opening once he figured out what Kaiba was up to, he sat still.
Kaiba turned his head sideways and pressed his wet hair against the back of Joey's t-shirt, soaking it, while his free hand slipped under the shirt, his fingers fanning over Joey's abs.
If it wasn't Kaiba, Joey thought, I'd say he was hugging me.
After a minute, Kaiba's hand dipped down to unfasten the snap of Joey's pants, then went back to his abs.
Joey told himself that unless he took some initiative Kaiba would be calling all the shots. It might turn out to be a bad idea, but he decided that it was better than just sitting passively.
He unzipped.
Kaiba's hand stopped, and then his other arm released the hold, grabbing a handful of the front of Joey's t-shirt.
Joey stood up and turned around.
Kaiba pulled him closer, his burning eyes never leaving Joey's face. His free hand worked Joey's pants down, dragging the boxers along. Down to his thighs, down to his knees, and then he raised an eyebrow, expectantly.
Leaning forward to steady himself on the arms of the chair, Joey toed off his shoes, then kicked off his pants. By his time his dick was swelling, half hard.
And still Kaiba, his hand fisted in the white t-shirt, was silent. He pulled Joey even closer, then bent over and began to give him a blow job.
Joey's first thought – shutting the door on the part of him that was screaming "Kaiba's giving me a blow job?!!" – was that it wasn't very good. The hesitant tongue that licked the head of Joey's cock a few times didn't leave enough to compensate for dry lips that barely covered sharp teeth. Then it registered that it was Kaiba doing it, and that thought went a long way.
It got better once Joey started leaking a little: Kaiba sucked the tip, used his tongue a little more, turned his head to the side for a better angle. Joey put a hand on Kaiba's head, clutching a handful of slick, damp hair to guide the rhythm, encouraging him with whimpers. When he spread his stance Kaiba took the hint, cupping his balls, stroking the space behind them. The wetter and sloppier it got the better it got: soon Joey had to hold himself back from thrusting down Kaiba's throat. His moans got louder, especially when he saw the dribbles of saliva on Kaiba's chin and cheek, silver in the dim light. And then, as he felt his balls start to draw up, Kaiba stopped, sat up straight, took the hand on Joey's sac away. The other hand retained the grip on Joey's t-shirt.
"You can let go," Joey said, shakily, "I'm not gonna run away."
Ignoring this, Kaiba used his free hand to unzip his own pants (the light from the street was just enough for Joey to see how tight the fabric of the pants were stretched over his crotch, balls painfully compressed) and let his erect cock escape. Then he tugged on Joey's shirt and, though he was afraid of what was going to happen next, Joey clambered onto the chair to sit on Kaiba's lap, facing him, his legs spread wide over the arms of the chair.
Kaiba tried to pull him closer, but Joey braced his hands on the edge of the sink behind Kaiba, resisting. "You're gonna have to buy me dinner before I let you fuck me in the ass," Joey said. "Maybe two dinners." Not that the thought was completely unwelcome; his arms relaxed as if they had a mind of their own.
Kaiba still didn't speak; instead, he let go of the t-shirt. That hand he now stroked over his own face, wiping the excess saliva from his chin and cheek, and then licking his palm and fingers until they were slick.
It was unfair that the sight was so incredibly hot.
With a quick motion Kaiba pulled Joey close enough so that their erections rubbed together, and then he took both in his large, long-fingered hand and stroked and squeezed, palming the heads for lubrication. When he finally took his eyes from Joey's face to rest his forehead against Joey's shoulder, his faint, breathy moans were enough to send Joey over the edge. A heartbeat or two later Kaiba came too.
And only then did he let go of Joey. He kept his head down.
Joey leaned back. There were warm damp spots on the shirts, they had taken most of it, but Kaiba's neck and chin had to have been hit too. Joey pulled off his t-shirt, then held it out as he scrambled backwards off the chair. Kaiba took it wordlessly. Joey turned his back, pulled on his pants and underwear; by the time he turned around again Kaiba was standing too, buttoning his shirt.
"Wow," Joey said. He couldn't really form any more than the one word: his brain was working overtime trying to process what had just happened.
Kaiba stepped away from him, put on his tie, his jacket.
'Hey do you want to – " Joey started to ask, but Kaiba strode to the front, picked up the shopping bag, flipped the deadbolt, and left.
Joey developed a slow grin as he collected his damp undershirt from the arm of the chair. He took clean towels, wiped down the shampoo sink and then the chair. He laughed out loud as he tossed the damp towels and clothes into the hamper. He got it. Kaiba had maneuvered him into the shampoo, and then strong-armed him afterward because, for all his arrogance and bluster, underneath it all he was like a lot of the salon's customers – hell, maybe he even understood desperation. What had Willoughby said? "Most of them are so lonely, you know. They just need a little touch, now and again. A little chance to be a little naughty."
As he locked up the salon and started the walk home, he pulled out his cell phone and, still grinning from his victory, pressed Willoughby's number. He wasn't surprised to get voicemail – Willoughby had said something about taking Randolph out clubbing – so after the beep he said simply, "This is Joey. I thank you now."

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~ The end ~

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Author's Notes
¥ 1,248,000 comes to about $100 USD per bottle.
There are shampoo videos on YouTube. Just closeups. Of shampooing. With descriptions of "lots of close-up hair action" and notes about when various shampoo phases happen (e.g., "creme rinse at 5:47"). I find this fetish oddly charming for some reason. Surprising what happens when you google "shampoo boy" and then follow the free links from that site.
The GrapeVine mentioned in this chapter was named for a gay strip and drag club that existed in Chicago in the mid-70s.
P.S. I happened to like this chapter as it was originally written - without the porn - but I caved to requests and wrote this expanded version for those "unsatisfied" with the PG version.
A thank-you to my beta Rroselavy.
Idea: 21 July 2010

(05) 19 Feb 2011
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Shampoo Boy (AFF version)

Shampoo Boy, ch 2