Cathairsis (Part 3) by Fantasy Weaver

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Another bit of build-up for what is to come from yours truly. Thank you to everyone who commented last chapter. I hope you all enjoy this part as well, and are in anticipation of whatever comes next.

Part three of "Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology". Please read the previous parts for context.

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Foul language ahead

2: Adult content ahead


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Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology

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The Subjects - Ten Men Under the Master’s Care

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Honeyed eyes found themselves in the rearview mirror, their color a darker, more pensive one than usual. Aden shifted in his seat, looking at his shaved face in the clean surface, having opted to be more meticulous with his morning routine today. He fingered the loose waves of his hair, where they fell past his shoulders, rearranged for the hundredth time the locks held back in a half-bun.

Sometime after answering Rah’s email, he had begun doing some research, lasting well into the early hours of the morning. The word Rah had used, "trichophilia", was the subject of his search. Unsurprisingly, it was exactly as the man had said: that being the term for a hair-related fetish. However, there was…seldom any information about it.

Like many specific fetishes, the articles Aden found about it were few and far between, and often repeated the same things: people with trichophilia like long or short hair, get turned on by getting it touched or touching it, and, more often than not, women’s hair was the focal point. He had read through many of these regurgitated walls of text that were as repetitive as the last, unsatisfied with them. He had turned to discussion forums, but again, unless he wanted to sink hours upon hours into this, Aden had only found more stuff about some guys liking long hair.

He knew very well that wasn’t what Rah had meant when talking about it though, he was certain, and the articles only ever gave a passing mention of haircuts whenever he did stumble upon the information. He pursed his lips. At least, that’s what he had understood from their exchange in the dungeon. Den? Whatever.

Shaking himself from his musings, Aden pulled the doorhandle open. They would discuss the further specifics of this if necessary. Alone in his car, he would get nowhere fast.

So, with camera bag over one shoulder, laptop case on the other, the photographer walked back to the dark storefront where it all started.

In the concrete fortress that hid the barber’s den under Cathairsis.

As he passed by that word-splattered window, he couldn’t help but laugh at how ignorant he had been about the logo; three X’s should have lit a familiar light in his head. The notice about needing to be eighteen to enter, even the name of the shop were all signs that pointed to the true, less innocent purpose of this place.

The lights inside were on, and beyond the glass, Aden spotted Rah waiting in the barber chair across the shop. The man’s eyes found him outside, and immediately he was up and coming to unlock the front door.

Those deep brown eyes were still just as emotional as ever.

"Aden, good to see you again."

Aden let his eyes rove the man’s form, feeling a breath catching in his lungs at the sight of him. "Thanks for having me," he said, taking the few steps to cross the threshold. Here he was again, after weeks of radio silence between them.

There was a certain finality to the way Rah locked the door behind him, and Aden tried not to focus on that passing emotion, wandering over to the black couch by the window and taking a seat there. He found himself analysing Rah’s outfit; the ever-present black boots were still there, but the leather jacket, perhaps too warm for the summer days, was on a peg near the door. He wore charcoal grey jeans with a leather belt that looked like it has some designs etched into it.

For the first time, Aden could truly see the extent of the tattoos that covered the man’s arms, as Rah had chosen to don a sleeveless black camisole. There was barely an inch of those slim, lightly muscled arms that was bare, apart from his left hand. Designs made with thin dark lines and shading, uncolored. He could see feathers on his left shoulder, some botanical patterns, as well as symbols of his trade strewn about the pieces: a barber pole here, a clipper there, scissors hidden under his right forearm, over which were two large black bands circling the muscles there.

He could make out the beginnings of another tattoo on his upper chest, were the shirt hung a little loose, but could not see what it was. Today, Rah had his hair up in a high ponytail, allowing Aden to see that his ears were pierced. How had he failed to notice the studs on the right one last time, when the man didn’t even have hair on that side of his head?

His left ear sported, among the silver and black jewelry, a blue and white, beaded earring of some kind. Aden’s brow furrow ever so slightly. The earring was vaguely reminiscent of something he had seen before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Rah was bringing the rolling stool over to the couch, in front of the little glass table there. The photographer put his equipment on the cushions beside him, watching curiously as the barber placed a notebook and pen in front of him, the leather cover on the pad a worn brown.

"Do you want something to drink, coffee?" Rah asked at long, twisting idly on the stool.

"Ah, no, thanks. I’m fine." His hands were shaking slightly, he realized, and busied himself by getting his laptop out.

He was keenly aware of the barber’s gaze on him as he did this. Aden refused to look at the man, but nevertheless wondered what he must be thinking, watching him right now. Aden almost wanted Rah to be mad at him for how their last meeting had ended, at least then there would be reason for the trembling that afflicted his fingers.

Before the silence became near-impossible to stand anymore, Rah quietly spoke up, "What made you change your mind?"

‘F***, anything but that’ Aden thought to himself, imploring any deity for some wisdom. Alas, the universe answered him with its usual silence, and Aden was left to fend for himself. Rah could have asked him anything, hell he could have asked him to suck his dick and Aden would have been able to give him a piece of his mind, but this?

He steeled his nerves, eyes focusing on his laptop’s screen. "Curiosity," he offered, non-committal, but even to his own ears the reply sounded strained.

If his answer had not been to Rah’s satisfaction, the man made no mention of it. Not even a chuckle, a sniff or a sigh. The lack of noise may as well have been a scream in the silent room, and Aden couldn’t stand it. He lifted his face-

Rah’s eyes…

Skepticism on full display.

But he wasn’t going to push him.

"Well," the barber said, so suddenly that Aden startled, "then I suppose we should talk about how this is going to go down."

Rah avoiding any confrontation almost made Aden more nervous. The man had the habit of doing that. Last time too, there had been moments when it felt like Rah wanted to say more, do something. No. He pushed the looming stress aside. He wanted to get on with the project, and that’s exactly what they would do. "Right."

A twitch almost turned those full lips into a smile. Almost.

Aden cleared his throat, putting on his business façade and focusing on the task at hand. Last time, they hadn’t really had a clear conversation about the details of the project, but now he vowed to get all the information he needed. Hands at the ready on his keyboard, he stated, "Last time, you said you wanted ten portraits."

"Yes."

"You also said-" this part was harder to get out, but he did so with as much professionalism as he could muster, "that you wanted pictures of them in the um…" He shook his head, starting over, not wanting to mention the chair, "You wanted pictures of them while you’re giving them a haircut?"

His slip hadn’t gone unnoticed, but again, Rah did not tease him about it, he just sat with a smugness in his eyes that never bled to his face. "In simple terms, yes."

"What would be defined terms then?" Aden asked, taking notes.

"Let’s see…" Rah closed his eyes in contemplation, fingers twisting the end of his long ponytail. Aden focused on the movement, how second-nature it seemed. "As I’ve said, it’s a process. To understand what I want, you need to understand what I offer my boys."

‘Boys’, Aden’s mind stuck on the word. The ten subjects were men? For some reason, he thought perhaps they would be women after reading through all those articles on trichophilia. Still, he was in no place to judge a man’s interest, considering his own were of similar taste. "I’m assuming sex is involved?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

"How?"

Rah crossed his arms, looking around at their surroundings, the various tools of his trade. "BDSM is different for everyone, so is hair fetishism. What one person might enjoy, another might abhor. My current submissives all love getting their hair cut, but that’s not true of everyone with trichophilia. Some of my past subs did not want to get their hair cut. They liked getting their hair washed, played with, brushed, maybe even permed or dyed. And as for the sexual aspect," he made a vague gesture with his hand, "Some just want to be left to enjoy the transformation, and others…" he smirked, "well, they want to get their insides rearranged."

Aden coughed to disguise the thoroughly horrified sound that rose up from his throat. "Alright…noted."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

The photographer blinked a few times and made a face, a grimace really. "I guess it’s hard to stay impartial to that kind of information."

Rah laughed good-heartedly, and for some reason, it made Aden want to laugh too. A little. He didn’t though, forcing the budding smile on his face back down with a harsh mental reprimand.

"Where was I going with this…right!" Rah’s eyes flicked to him before he continued, and it seemed that the more they talked about Rah’s interests, the more his usual frosty demeanor melted away. "There are many aspects of trichophilia that overlap well with BDSM. A lot of my subs feel a certain powerlessness when they go to a salon or a barbershop, or felt something like that in their childhood. You’d be surprised how many fetishes develop due to childhood trauma." Aden took notes, vowing to do some research about that at home. "When someone, anyone, sits down to get their haircut, there’s a consensual power exchange taking place, even if they don’t realize it. They tell a stylist what they expect, and give them control to make it happen. Similarly, in BDSM, the power exchange can be done between a dom and a sub, where the parties involved will discuss what they want out of a scene, and the dom will ensure that the actions are done in respect to those expectations, while perhaps pushing the boundaries if that is what the sub wants."

Aden tapped silently away on his keyboard, taking in the information with as much neutrality as possible. He made a note to do research on BDSM and this "power exchange" Rah spoke of so casually.

Rah expanded on the previous statement, "When I speak with a potential sub about what they want out of being my boy, I want them to tell me exactly what makes them tick in regards to their hair fetishism. While they are under my care, I will gradually see to it that physical transformations in line with their desires happen, which in turn lead to psychological ones as well, consciously or not. I may tell them to keep their hair a certain length, I may tell them to dress differently, I might even encourage them to seek out experiences they’re afraid of doing. Over their time with me, they will slowly go through a metamorphosis into the person they want to be, and the person I already see in them, under their insecurities or whatever else is blocking them from achieving that final stage."

Rah’s voice was entrancing while he spoke. Aden wondered how long it took him to find this method, this specific niche in a world of so many different desires.

There was something in what the man said though that, if Aden were honest, caught his attention more than the rest. How he said how the submissives go through metamorphosis, becoming who they want to be, who Rah already saw in them.

Honey-colored eyes found deep, calm brown.

What…did Rah see when he looked at him?

What did he see in this photographer in his late twenties, wearing worn navy jeans and a heathered grey tee, slouched in his barbershop’s couch tapping notes on his well-used laptop?

What did he see in Aden Verity?

‘Nothing you aren’t already’ his mind denied quickly, tearing his eyes away from the sight of the man before him.

"So, you want pictures while you’re giving one of these transformations to your…boys?" his hesitation hadn’t been as subtle as he would have liked.

"Yes." The barber picked up his leather notebook and pen. "Not all of them are at the same stage in their journeys, but all would benefit from a reminder of what they come to me for. Pleasure. Release. Surrender," he emphasized deliberately, watching as Aden tensed at the word. "You mentioned not wanting to do ‘porn shoots’" Rah said as he made air quotes, "but that would imply I’m going to let other people see and use the pictures, and that’s not happening. They would be personal to me and my subs. No one else. Still, I think you understand that there is an almost obligatory sensuality and intimacy from what I’m asking you to shoot. In fact, if you would allow me to do my scenes as usual, I would be much obliged."

Aden almost wished he didn’t have to ask, but, "And how would ‘as usual’ be for you?"

"You would be an observer, nothing more. I would do whatever I so please to my boys, whether that be as innocent as a kiss on the lips or as sexual as ramming a dildo up their ass."

Aden ran a hand down his face, breathing harshly, before snapping his hand back down. "Nudity?" he asked, an unnaturally high-pitched tone to his normally low voice.

"…Do you think my boys will be clothed if I’m shoving a toy in their ass?"

The question really was just as simple as that, but Aden still found himself struggling to respond, especially after hearing how strained his voice had become, and how nonchalant Rah was about all this. "Just making sure."

Rah shifted his weight on the stool, one boot-clad foot scuffing the floor as he did. "I don’t intend to be nude myself, or have penetrative sex with my subs during the shoot, if that’s what you’re asking."

Aden’s honey-colored eyes found those amused brown ones, supressing a flustered glare. "Good to know," he muttered under his breath.

"You know," Rah said then, smiling at him with something akin to wonder in those dark irises, "You’re a funny man, Aden."

"Oh? How so?" he asked, eyes on his laptop’s screen, where he finished taking his notes.

"For someone who looks so off-put by the themes of this project, you’re still here and willing to do it."

His hands stopped, fingers hovering over the keys as he processed the other’s words.

"Why is that…I wonder," Rah whispered.

He would not be subjected to this examination of his motives, not by Rah. He flicked his eyes to the man, mouth nearly pulling on a scowl as he reiterated with steel in his voice, "I thought the project might be worth my while after all. I’ve never done something like this, but I was curious, and I’m willing to add new stuff to my roster, even if I won’t put it in my public portfolio." Rah remained silent on his stool, gazing down at him passively. Aden raised a brow, his entire body rigid, "Does that answer you?"

The smirk on the man’s face went right to his eyes. "Yes. Thank you."

…

Maybe Rah does see something in him he can’t yet fathom himself.

"Who are the subjects?" he asked at long, not letting Rah steer them away from the topic at hand. Besides, he wanted a good idea of the men he would be photographing before committing fully.

Here, Rah lifted his leather-bound notebook in his left hand, flashing a knowing grin, "Right, my boys." He flipped the book open, right hand twirling his pen absentmindedly.

Aden regarded the pages with interest. "What’s that?"

"I write down what my boys are like, personality and other, less PG stuff. It’s good to keep things in writing. Makes it easier to remember what they all enjoy."

A written account of what all ten of his submissives liked? Rah certainly was orderly. Then again, one had to be organized to some degree to dominate ten men at once. Aden had to give the man credit where it’s due, considering this would make things much easier for him too.

"Could you tell me a bit about each of them?" Aden asked. "And before you go telling me what…gets their rocks off, would you mind keeping it ‘PG’ as you said?" he couldn’t help but add.

This got a chuckle out of Rah. "I suppose I could try. You do realize this isn’t going to stay ‘PG’ for long though, right?"

"Entertain me," Aden challenged, irked at the heat he could feel in his ears.

"Alright, alright, I’ll play nice." Aden was certain that Rah wasn’t the kind of person to "play nice" in any capacity, but if only for his sake, the man made the effort, and began enumerating each of his submissives with a brief description:

"My oldest boy is Conor," the photographer began taking notes as he listened intently. "He’s been my submissive for five years now, came to me when he was twenty-four. Out of all of my subs, Conor is probably the most well-behaved, but that comes from his seniority under my wing. I’m thinking perhaps of letting him go soon. He’s learned a lot with me and has grown over the years, and I think that he has it in him to be a dom of his own. Though, I will miss that beautiful red hair of his…" a sort of dreamy looked crossed Rah’s face then, but it was gone almost immediately.

"Then we have Lucas, who’s been mine for a year now, and I’ve not cracked his shell yet. He looks a bit like a tough guy when you don’t know him, but he’s a real softie inside. It’s just hard to see that when the guy doesn’t say anything during…extraneous activities." Aden scoffed under his breath. "He’s good-looking, that’s for sure, and if he showed any emotion at all he would probably get more attention. Lucas could probably have the pick of any man or woman if he was just a tad more open. And, if he actually had a look that suited him.

We’ve got Yuri, who’s got some trouble keeping his urges under control. He’s such a good sub most of the time, but he tends to act impulsively. Not thinking things through is probably his biggest weakness. He doesn’t do it out of spite or to be bratty - we’ll get to someone who is though." Aden’s brow shot up at that, but since Rah said they would talk about it, he didn’t press him for answers. "No, Yuri just has zero impulse control unless someone is there to keep him on a leash. I’m working on that with him, but it’s been almost a year and his hair is nearly where I would like it. Hopefully he won’t do anything to it until I see him again, but I have my doubts."

Rah gave him a moment to finish up his line of text. Honeyed eyes went to the man, urging him to continue.

"I said I would talk about my bratty sub; that’s Axel. He can’t seem to listen to me no matter how long I’ve been his master, though I know that most of his attitude is a front he puts up. He has…let’s say, an interesting history with authority figures."

Fingers stopped on the keyboard. It wasn’t his right to pry but, "Bad time with the cops?"

Rah sniffed, a sort of rueful smile tugging his lips. "If only. Axel’s never had a run in with authorities in that sense. In fact, I don’t think he has a truly mean bone in his body. But, when the door closes and he’s in my den, some of those repressed emotions make him do some stupid things and puts himself, through his own actions and words, in situations that require me to be more authoritative with him. That often comes at the cost of his hair."

A shiver coursed along Aden’s spine at those last words. He wondered, with a sick, morbid twist in his belly, just how much Rah would take off under those circumstances. He couldn’t imagine being at the mercy of someone like that, and yet this Axel seemed perfectly willing to put himself in danger of a shearing, going by the barber’s words.

Rah was looking through his notebook again. "Oh. Yes. Liam, my military fan-boy who just loves crewcuts..." At the mention, Aden thought he might have seen disdain in Rah’s face, but the emotion was there and gone, and Rah continued without a care, "If ever you intend to do some research on hair fetishes, you’ll no doubt find that a lot of guys are into military induction cuts. It’s commonplace in our community, so much so that there are circles and people dedicated to recreating boot-camp environments for that purpose. I’m not one of them. However, circumstances have led me into accepting Liam in my den. Circumstances I will not discuss at present.

Emiliano is my punk-in-progress, with the thickest head of hair I’ve ever seen," Rah’s lips morphed into an impressed grin, and going by the reaction, Aden had a feeling Rah got some enjoyment from that. "He’s this spunky young guy with a lot of personality. I wouldn’t say he’s as much of a brat as Axel is, but he’s definitely defiant when he wants to be. He’s also big into leather and alternative tastes, BDSM-wise, which really just fits his person as a whole. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him. I’ve got a lot of ideas on what to do with that hair of his, as thick as it is."

He could tell Rah had ideas, just by how he looked in that moment. If the man had a window in that side-cut of his, Aden was certain he could make out the gears turning in that head, or see steam coming out of his ears. The mental imagery was enough to have a smile tug at the corner of his lips, but Rah was too engrossed in his notebook to pay any attention to the photographer across from him.

"Oh, Keiji, that beautiful man. He doesn’t see himself going anywhere in modeling, even though I think he’s completely wrong. He’s got the body, the shape for it, and his face: perfection. I know why he doesn’t want to go through with it but…"

Aden’s curiosity was piqued. "Why is that?"

The barber gave a quiet chuckle. "The modeling industry is harsh, Aden. And one of the ways in which it’s harsh is in how it pushes models into having a certain style. A haircut. More than one. Keiji would probably have to see himself give up some autonomy on his hairstyle if he wants to go professional, but he’s a little scared of that. Like a lot of men, he’s used to his usual cut and has stuck with it for years, so much so that it’s practically part of who he is. He needs to let that go if he wants to model, which I know he does."

That comment about keeping the same style shouldn’t have bothered Aden so much, but his mind quickly did some math. How long had he worn his hair to his upper back like it currently is? Had it been…seven years?

‘Focus. This isn’t about you’ his inner voice reminded him. "Go on," he said, wanting Rah to fill the silence now, if only to keep the musings from surfacing.

"Hm," the man nodded, fingers of his left hand twirling his ponytail again. "Then we have…oh, of course," Rah laughed, "Blake, who I call my male Rapunzel." Aden tried not to roll his eyes. He could already guess that this Blake had long hair. "He’s such a funny guy. He’s been into hair since forever, and loves growing his out. When we talk about our sessions, he always gets so giddy, I swear he’s like a golden retriever. Even when he’s nervous, he laughs and just takes everything with a smile. It’s hard to be serious and not joke around when he’s in my chair. His happiness and eagerness for anything is just infectious. Especially if it involves cutting his hair."

His fingers were getting sore from typing notes out, but he really wanted to be thorough and have a general picture of each of the subjects. Again, the barber gave him a moment to finish up his paragraph, nose-deep in that leather-bound book of his.

When silence filled the shop again, Rah’s low voice reverberated around them, "My most interesting boy must be Jasper. He’s interesting in, well, a lot of ways, even in how he looks."

Oh? "How so?"

"First, don’t be surprised when you see him, he’s albino." Aden masked his shock. He’d never seen an albino person before. "White skin, white hair, almost red eyes. A little bluish in the right light. He’s stunning for sure. But it hasn’t exactly been easy for him for a lot of personal reasons. He’s got a lot of issues with haircuts, and yet he’s also a trichophiliac to some degree, which makes our sessions a lot less, hm…brutal, than some of my others. I’ve been working with him through his issues and we’re definitely getting to a point where I don’t think a haircut is out of the question. We’ll see. If anything, I’ll have you take pictures of him while I’m massaging his scalp. He really likes that.

And my most recent boy, who came to me two months ago now, is my darling Aimé." Was it him, or did Rah put a lot of emphasis on that term of endearment? It sounded like he had a soft spot for this man. "He’s been in denial of his fetish for a while, but he’s exploring that with me. It’s a little slow-going right now, just because this is the first time he’s actually had anyone to talk about this side of him with. He’s my youngest boy too, only nineteen. Still has a bit of a baby face if I’m honest, but that really does make him all the more adorable when he-" Rah caught himself, smirking at something Aden could only guess. "You don’t need the details. He’s quite timid, so I’m expecting him to shy away from the camera, even when he’s already agreed to getting photographed."

That, Aden made sure to take not of in bold letters. Even with consent, if someone doesn’t want to get their picture taken, he doesn’t do it. Too many times has he been on the receiving end of an unwanted flash in his face.

Shaking himself from the memories, he stared down at his screen. Conor, Lucas, Yuri, Axel, Liam, Emiliano, Keiji, Blake, Jasper, Aimé. He wrote the names down in his notes, committing them to memory. So, these were the men that Rah wanted to get captured in submission by his lens.

Aden sat back, thinking about how best he would go about turning this project into reality. He scratched his nape, suddenly aware of his own hair in ways he had never really been before. These men who came to Rah all did so to fulfil some fixation with their own locks. It almost made Aden wonder what the barber thought of his own…

He banished the thought from mind. "Ten people. That’s a lot. Do you want to do them all on the same day?"

Rah snorted across from him, and Aden realized his phrase might have had a double-meaning without wanting to. Heat prickled his neck at the slip, his eyes shifting to his lap in mortification. The barber didn’t mention it, though. "No. Some of my boys might like getting their haircut while surrounded by a crowd, but I think one photographer is going to be enough," he smiled. "Besides, I would prefer their transformations to be done individually and privately, to allow them to fully express themselves."

To better capture their real, tangible, genuine emotions. Aden shivered. What turmoil would he be subjected to while clicking away behind his camera? Even as an observer, as Rah had said, Aden would be in the heat of the action, watching it like some voyeur. A voyeur who did not belong in Rah’s world of boys, transformative haircuts, sex and submission.

"Do you have a budget?" He asked, nearly forgetting the matter of payment.

The other gave him a shake of his head. "Money isn’t an issue. Do you need to be paid upfront?"

Aden’s eyebrows shot up at that. "Um, no, I’m not even sure how much to charge for this. I’m not exactly used to this kind of project." And it’s the truth. Whatever he usually did would be done in one day, and charged by the hour. But for so many different takes, he might have to adjust his price (maybe even ramp it up considering what he would be put through).

"What’s your usual rate?"

Aden crossed one leg over another on the couch, thinking. "It depends what I’m shooting and for how long. If it’s a family photograph and some individual portraits? It’s not even an hour of my time, so I’ll charge seventy-five to a hundred dollars. If I’m asked to do a wedding shoot, that’s at least four hundred up front, probably more depending on how long it takes. I’ve done longer shoots for easily two thousand dollars."

Rah nodded understandingly, fiddling with the pages of his notebook, leaning forward in his stool ever so slightly as Aden spoke. "I realize I’m asking for something pretty unusual for you. I get it if you need to charge me more because of the nature of the pictures you’ll be taking. I was ready to pay for that anyway."

They continued discussing budget for a little while, the clock on the wall indicating that four o’clock had already passed. In the end, Rah and him agreed on a five-hundred-dollar deposit, at least until Aden had figured out the right pricing. Surprisingly, the barber made him a cheque, as opposed to a direct deposit.

"I’ll be needing appointment dates for all the shoots," the photographer said as he stored the paper away in his laptop bag. He opened his schedule up on the screen in front of him, scrolling through the dates. "I assume you’ll be arranging those with your s-submissives?" Dammit, so close to being said fluently.

"I will." The man’s dark eyes were scanning the pages of the leather book again. Aden watched him with some intrigue, noting how the man’s brows pulled together when he was deep in thought, the way some unbound raven hair brushed his high cheekbones, framed his long face in a straight, silky waterfall.

Rah’s eyes slipped to his own, and Aden had to bend his head towards his laptop to avoid being seen staring at him.

A pause punctuated the interaction. Aden broke it before the other could interject a comment of any sort. "Are there things I should know before the shoots?" It was a common question he asked most of his clients. Some people didn’t like being photographed - he is one such person - so he’d always found it good to make sure everyone was comfortable, himself included. He’d already been told the youngest man, Aimé, might not be alright once the objective is put in front of him.

He could feel Rah’s gaze on him, unnerving, yes, but it had his heart beating to a hard rhythm that threatened to crack his ribcage. "Yes. There will probably be tears."

"S**t," he muttered under his breath, not loud enough to be heard.

"And…" Rah searched for the words, his right hand twisting in the air as he did, "gratifying noises. Maybe some screaming. But not all of my boys react the same to my actions. And they don’t always react in the same way each time. There’s a lot of psychological and environmental aspects that can cause a change in a person’s behavior. I want you to be ready to endure those changes, as well as capture them."

Aden looked at his hands, where they were intertwined in his lap. He had expected something of the sort, but the prospect still seemed daunting. He brought his interlocked hands to his mouth, finding patience and, hopefully, some serenity before he asked, "Are any of them more, um-"

"Reserved?" Rah suggested lightly.

He nodded, swallowing, "Yeah."

Rah contemplated the inquiry. Aden didn’t look up from where his head was bowed, but he heard the distinct sound of pages being turned. Was the barber looking through his notebook?

Twirling his pen in his right hand, Rah started, almost to himself, "Aimé is pretty shy, but he’s expressive enough when I get him going…" He hummed, and Aden found the will to look up at him, seeing those brown eyes deep in thought. "Conor’s got a lot more control of his emotions, but he’s no longer afraid of letting me know how well I’m doing either. Who else?" He tapped the pen to his full lips. A glint of recognition flashed on his passive face then, and his head turned up to regard the photographer, a small smile curling his lips, "Lucas though…he’s my tough nut. Barely ever says a thing once he gets in my chair. Hardly a peep."

The other found himself intrigued by this, despite his initial aversion to this project, and was helpless to ask, "Like he’s not enjoying himself or…?"

"Oh no, he enjoys it." A salacious grin replaced the smile on Rah’s face, leaving Aden to wonder what he could be thinking about when he said that (though the subject matter left little up to the imagination). "But Lucas is one of those men who have trouble expressing their emotions, taught from a young age to bottle things up and ‘man up’ so to speak. He opens up to me after I’ve had my way, though I wish he would loosen up during our scenes a bit more."

There was that word again. "What is a scene to you?" Aden knew what a scene is to him; it’s whatever finds itself in front of his camera, to be captured by the closing of the shutter, but when Rah spoke of a scene, it sounded different.

"An excellent question," Rah offered, the praise in his voice leaving Aden unable to draw breath for a moment. "I said before I’ve discussed my sub’s wants and their expectations of what will happen during their time with me. Think of how an actor prepares for a theatrical scene in a play or a movie. They have a script; for me and my sub, the script is the expectations and the limits -that’s what a sub does not approve of or consent to doing in any circumstances. So, the actors in a BDSM scene are the dom and the sub, in this case. We create a scene with what we want, agree to it, and play it out."

He nodded, feeling his neck flushing at the description. "Is this something you’ll do during the shoots?"

"I’ll be negotiating a scene with my subs beforehand, so you won’t be seeing that while you’re assisting to the scene itself."

It sounded much more prepared than Aden had initially thought, but he had no doubts that emotions would not be rehearsed, or "negotiated" in advance. The nature of what Rah would be doing practically begged for someone to crack under the pressure of the situation, regardless of one’s desire to be quiet or stoic in any way. Aden’s no fool; he’s had sex before, been the recipient of two failed relationships and a singular one-night stand with some guy he met at a bar on a night out. Sex - or anything that gets someone aroused - has a way of making fissures in one’s composure, forces you to do and say stupid, unwanted things.

No matter how he saw it, he would have to deal with seeing people in vulnerable, emotional sates that will reveal much about that person’s personality and past. The very thing he avoids in his usual work, he would plunge himself into in the most potent of forms.

"There’s one other thing you should know, well, two actually," Rah broke through his thoughts, and Aden concentrated back on him. The man put up an index finger, "One: I might send you out of the den at any point for any reason. Whether that’s to give my sub a moment alone with me to discuss something or for activities inappropriate for your camera." Aden’s shoulders tensed, and this seemed to entertain Rah greatly. He stuck a second finger up, "Two: in BDSM, we use what we call ‘safewords’. One is a word my sub uses to tell me to slow down or change what I’m doing, and the other is to tell me, in no uncertain terms, to stop whatever I’m doing, either because they don’t feel safe, they’re scared or I’ve crossed a line in a way that makes them not want to continue what we’re doing."

Aden’s mind could scarcely keep up with the new information, and he had trouble understanding the use of the words, which he made known, "Why can’t they just ask you to stop? That seems unnecessarily complicated."

Rah gave him a knowing smirk, shaking his head at him like he was a clueless kid, chuckling lightly, "You would think that, wouldn’t you?" Before Aden could demand what he meant by that, he answered him, "When you’re doing any kind of sexual or intimate activity, there are things you’re bound to say out of habit or even reflexively. Maybe your partner touched you in a way that made your body shake and seize up, so you say ‘no’ or ‘stop’, but really," the barber’s voice dropped to a low, suggestive whisper, "you want it to continue. You want it badly, even if it’s so intense you think you might pass out."

‘I feel like I’m going to pass out right now,’ Aden thought dazedly, out of his element in so many ways. "So, if one of your partners," he deliberately replaced the word "submissive" this time, "tell you to stop, or tell you no, you’re not going to listen to them?"

"Oh, I’ll listen to them," he agreed, a cruel twinkle in his eye, "listen to them whine and moan, maybe, but I won’t stop. Don’t worry, they know this from the get go, just like you do now."

What did he mean by that?

"Their safewords are chosen from the moment they decide they want to submit to me. Their slow-down safeword is the same across the board, no matter which boy I’m caring for, but their complete-stop safeword is personal to each. My point with this," Rah said, giving Aden an even, serious look that might have branded a lesser man with its intensity, "is that should any of my boys call their personal safeword, I will tell you to stop taking pictures, to leave the room and to wait up here for me while I sort out aftercare for my sub. I want your word, Aden," he pointedly stated, "I want your word that if I tell you to stop whatever it is you’re doing, you will listen to me."

Aden didn’t know what took him, but he decided that right now was the moment to jest, and jokingly suggested, "Do we need a safeword too for me taking pictures?"

Rah surprised him by smiling approvingly, "Actually, that’s not a terrible idea."

Aden’s brow furrowed; his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Wait, you’re serious?"

The man tilted his head, a black brow raising playfully. "I’m always serious when it comes to the safety of a scene, for everyone involved. Even a bystander."

Aden didn’t know what to say to that. "I see…" He hadn’t actually thought his joke would have been taken so seriously, but here they were.

"Since I compared my scenes to a theatre set before, let’s take a page from that," Rah suggested lightly, his mirth apparent in his features. "Our safeword can be ‘Curtain’."

Curtain, as in bringing down the curtain on a scene, barring it from being viewed by the audience. Aden supposed that made him the audience in the metaphor. "So, you’ll say ‘Curtain’ when you want me to turn my camera off and leave, is that right?"

"Correct."

Simple enough. ‘Oh, whatever, if it makes him happy’ he thought. "Alright, then sure. I’m okay with that."

"Perfect." Rah stood from the rolling stool at last, eyes going to the clock. It was almost five o’clock already, Aden noted, his own focus shifting to the time on his laptop. "Should we wrap things up for today?" the barber asked him, stretching his back as he moved about his shop.

There was one last thing, before they parted ways for today. "Yeah, I just need to let you know," Rah turned to him then while he shut his laptop off and stored it in its carrying bag, "I don’t do shoots without every person’s consent."

Rah hummed approvingly. "And I don’t do BDSM without it either. Wouldn’t you know?"

Aden stood, mid-motion putting the straps of his bags over his shoulder. He felt a bit foolish now, warning about consent to Rah, when the man thought his likeness had been taken without his knowledge by Aden. It was an accident, but the barber still didn’t know that, and the photographer vowed that he would put the truth to light during one of their next meetings. For now, though, he let it be. "I just…want to make sure everyone is on board with the project. I’ll have forms for you and the others to sign whenever we take their pictures."

"Of course. They’ve already agreed to the shoot, but I’ll make sure to remind them." The raven-haired man gave him a gentle simper.

Aden gathered up the last of his things, trying not to focus on how that small gesture made his breathing still. It’s not like Rah was anything more than an intriguing enigma of a person, someone Aden simply wanted to know more about in an educational, rational mindset. So, what reason was there for the stillness in his lungs whenever the man so much as glanced his way with those expressive eyes?

He stored the damning thought away to sort through some other time, when Rah wasn’t in the same room as him, perhaps. He reached into his wallet briefly, honey-colored eyes finding the other’s own, hand extending a matte, grey card. "My number’s on the card. You can call or text me to set up the first shoot whenever you want. I’ll check with my schedule if anything fits."

"Great, thank you." A tanned hand reached for the card, long fingers brushing ever so slightly against his as he took it, causing a shiver to climb up the photographer’s spine at the sudden contact. "Some of my boys work night shifts; would it be a problem for you if some of the shoots are done after midnight?"

He hadn’t thought of that possibility, but his schedule was rather flexible anyway. "Sure, if that’s what’s best for them," he answered uncertainly.

"Great. And don’t worry too much about the first shoot, yeah?" Rah calmly reassured him, as though sensing his trepidation for this whole ordeal. "I’ll try to get Lucas first. He’ll probably be the tamest of all of them. Perfect for a beginner," he offered with a knowing wink.

Aden found his tongue tied in knots in his mouth. When usually he could retort quite easily, he now sought to find any words at all, and came up empty-handed. He waited by the door, unsure whether Rah wanted to say anything more to him, and also unable to say goodbye to the man himself, even when they were clearly done for the day.

Those dark, rich brown eyes held his, narrowing slightly.

…What was he thinking?

The barber gave him another boyish grin. "Off you go."

For the life of him, Aden didn’t know why those three word were enough to urge him into action.

XXXXX

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

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