Cathairsis (Part 9) by Fantasy Weaver

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To those who were patiently waiting for this chapter, the wait is over. Something, something, this doesn't fit in one part. Who's surprised? Not me. Thank you to those who left me some comments and pointers on last chapter, I did try to implement some of the advice I was given. Now this chapter has a lot going on, so take your time to read it and re-read it (I know some of you do that, hehe). On the menu today: sadism? Yes. Masochism? double yes. Pent up arousal? I suppose you could read and find that one out for yourselves. Big thank you goes out to Zero, who helped out with some Spanish, and Jamie(sstories) as always for cheering me on and giving writing advice. Y'all know how this goes. Go check out their stories after reading this.

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

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Foul language ahead

2: Adult content ahead


XXXXX

Cathairsis: A Photographic Anthology

xox

Picture 3 - Abandon to Discomfort, Pleasure in Discovery - Part 1

XXXXX


Headlights illuminated the street, highlighting the faded white and yellow reflective paint on the pavement. Before long though, the asphalt gave way to gravel and dirt roads with a sharp turn to the right. Old wooden electric posts line the side of this bumpy pathway, but the steel lamps that often populated the highway or more modern roads were nowhere near this place.

The fair weather and full moon illuminated the surrounding forest. Every so often, nestled in the woods, accessed by muddy dirt paths and driveways, were little houses. Cabins, mobiles homes, some decently new, others dilapidated.

Meandering through these winding turns and less-than-smooth roads, he found his way back home from work. It was late; the clock on his dashboard read 00:34. Still, his eyes were wide open, and he was full of energy that could be better spent doing something else than lounging at home. At this hour though, no one would be up to accompany him.

Well, there was someone who would be.

Taking a right into his lonely driveway, a mile away from the next houses over, Rah parked his beat-up red Tacoma.

Locking his truck up, Rah let his eyes rove over the outside of his home. His yellow porch light had attracted the attention of moths, mosquitoes and June bugs, the latter of which piled around the edge of the screened door to his veranda. He paid them no mind as the door opened and shut with a rickety clatter, and, as if on cue, barking commenced from inside his house.

Smiling, Rah snorted as he got his keys out and struggled with his doorhandle. "Yeah, yeah, would you wait a f***ing minute…"

The barking only increased in volume and excitement, and as soon as Rah had swung the door open, his trusty companion threw herself onto his legs with barely-contained glee.

"Arf! Arf!"

Laughing, Rah reached down to roughly pet his dog’s head and body. "Did you miss me big girl? Did ya miss- Ah!" his dog, clearly unable to contain her joy, proceeded to lick his face and grimacing lips while whining and tapping her paws on the floor excitedly. "Ah! Stop, �"niehte, stop! You reek, you stinking mutt!"

His mutt in question, a white husky mix, finally relented, but only after Rah had agreed to giving her butt a few affectionate slaps. Wagging her tail, �"niehte finally let her owner inside, her mismatched brown-and-blue eyes glued to him as he closed the door and dropped his backpack on the floor by the entrance carpet. Snorting, she padded inside the house towards her blanket pile on the floor by the couch.

Rah crouched low on the storage bench by his door. Reaching down, he started the tedious process of untying the pair of leather boots on his feet, pulling the laces methodically from bellow his knee to his ankles. Groaning, he pulled the heavy footwear from his feet, inspecting them for dirt or scuff marks. Fingers touched the buffed leather thoughtfully, brushing over barely-there scratches and stains. He would need to do some maintenance on this pair soon. But not tonight.

Huffing, he placed them in the shoe rack in his closet, right beside his red dress shoes, smaller ankle boots and his pair of "ball-stompers" as he liked to call them: leather boots with a steel-toe and thick heel.

With a roll of his shoulders, the black leather jacket he wore slipped off his arms, and Rah placed the cherished piece of clothing on a peg bolted to the wall. In nothing but some loose black cargo pants and a tank top, Rah turned to his dog, nodding towards the entrance door as he opened it once more.

"�"niehte, káhnyon,"

At her owners’ command, she stood and jogged towards the open door, favorite shredded toy rope in her jaws. Rah followed behind her onto the netted patio, where �"niehte found her outdoor mat and sat on it, where it resided by a swinging chair set. With a strained groan, Rah let himself fall bodily into the variety of embroidered cushions upon its seat.

A high-pitched whine came from his right, and Rah let his brown eyes find �"niehte’s own. She was sitting in barely concealed impatience, holding her rope toy with a look that said "So? Are you going to play with me or what?"

He stared her down for a moment longer. Then, he jumped in the chair, quickly snatching one end of the rope with a playful growl, which �"niehte reciprocated as her tail swung back and forth happily. A tug of war broke out, with Rah using both his hands on one end of the multicolored toy to pull and twist it around, goading his companion on with taunts and playfully provocative noises. �"niehte growled as she pulled with all her might, claws on her back legs scratching the porch as she did.

Rah saw his chance as she let go for a split second and yanked the toy high up in the air, watching his dog jump up on his knees to try and snatch it back. "Come on! Get it girl!"

�"niehte made an affronted yap and doubled her efforts, finally stealing her toy back with a triumphant snort and a violent shake of her head. If the toy had ben anything but an inanimate object, it would have been dead as she dropped it on the floor at her owner’s feet. Rah chuckled at her antics, ruffling her fur up and sending shedding hair all over the place.

Patting her down, her told her, "Gonna have to brush you if I want to keep my clothes black, huh? Whose great idea was it to adopt a white mutt?"

�"niehte sneezed in response, tongue lapping at her owner’s hands.

Rah sighed melodramatically, rocking back into his swinging chair. "You could at least try to see it from my perspective."

Deciding to leave her owner some time to rest, �"niehte took her toy to her cushion and began to play by herself, shredding the bits of rope more than they already were. Rah smiled, reaching down to give her a couple of pats on the head. He could complain all he wanted about the ungodly amounts of white fur; he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.

Sighing contentedly, Rah sat back further, bringing his left foot up to rest on the seat. Using his right foot on the wooden porch, he gently swung back and forth, breathing in the warm summer night air, the scent of pine needles and mulch from his property.

He licked his lips, eyes twitching despite himself. Scowling pensively, he reached into his cargo pants, pulling out his cellphone and a small, flat metal box. Flipping it opened, he observed its contents. Two cigarettes. Not bad. He only had one today, when he woke up. Now though, the itch to light one up was nearly impossible to ignore. He reached forward, but his fingers hesitated as they neared one.

Looking down to his right, he lifted a brow at �"niehte. "What do you think?"

His husky tilted her head at him, eyes blank.

He had been good. He only had one today. Why not indulge? Again. "Don’t ever take up smoking, eh?" He told his dog with a sideways smirk as she went back to chewing her toy. Finally decided, Rah took the second cigarette in his box and closed it up.

On the small round wooden table beside his swing, Rah retrieved the lighter he kept there with his ashtray, where evidence of his bad habit jumped out at him in crumpled cigarette butts. There were far fewer of them than there once were. It isn’t much, but progress is progress, even as slow-going as it was. Bringing the butt up to his mouth, Rah flicked his lighter, sparks flying, glowing, before forming a proper flame. He brought it up to the end of his cigarette, lighting it at last.

Throwing the lighter back on the table, his right index and middle finger trapped the stick between them, and he inhaled, letting the acrid smoke fill his mouth and lungs. Taking the cigarette from his mouth, he exhaled a grey cloud, closing his eyes as he relaxed and rocked on his porch. In the distance, the faint chirping of crickets and faraway barking from the neighbor’s dogs echoed through the night. June bugs slammed themselves into the screen a few times trying to reach the light of the porch lamp, thudding to the ground as they got stunned by the impact.

Crunching came from �"niehte, who had found a stray critter crawling nearby. She ate the thing with gusto as Rah scowled down at her. "You’re gross."

Unbothered, �"niehte squinted her eyes at him.

He shook his head, taking another drag on his cigarette.

Harsh music broke the peaceful quiet, emitting from Rah’s cell where it rested in his lap. He lifted a brow. Who the f*** was calling him at this hour? He brought the screen up to his face and…rolled his eyes. Of course, who else?

Swiping to connect the call, he immediately answered with "Did you get dragged to the bar by tonight’s band for you to be calling me at this hour?"

At the other end of the call, the person burst out laughing. "You f***ing bet your ass I did! And you’re probably jealous you aren’t here with us right now."

"F*** off Emil," Rah retorted easily, inhaling on his cigarette.

Emiliano cackled at the snappy reply, amused by Rah’s quick tongue as always. "Come on," he said, dragging out his "on" affectionately, "I’ll get you two tickets to see Nightwish when they come in the fall, so don’t be like that."

He snorted. "Emil, don’t go spending your paychecks on tickets for me."

"Why not? After all, it’s your birthday today you old man!"

He sighed, exhaling smoke into the air as he flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. "You don’t need to remind me. Wait," he paused, "Did you wait until after midnight to call me so you could say that?"

"Me? Noooo…" Rah wasn’t so convinced by Emiliano’s mirthful reply. "I would totally, never ever take any opportunity to remind you that you’re thirty years old and that your time is ticking."

"Thanks so much," Rah deadpanned.

"Seriously though, I’m getting you those tickets. I also got you a shirt from the Three Day’s Grace show the other day. I don’t think you have this one."

Rah leaned his head back, sighing patiently at Emiliano’s generosity. Secretly, he was more than happy to get left-over band merch thanks to his sub’s job at the theatre. If it wasn’t for Emiliano, his wardrobe would have much fewer new shirts, and his walls many less posters and flags. "Thanks. For real this time."

"Total pleasure marico. Oh, hey, is Snow with you?"

Rah glanced at �"niehte - aka Snow - and back at his veranda ceiling. "Yes, why?"

"Put me on speaker phone!"

He knew where this was going, and stopped it before it went anywhere. "No way, I’m not letting you get her excited-"

"SNOW! SNOW IT’S EMIL!" Emiliano screamed at the top of his lungs, deafening Rah as he pulled his own device away from his ringing ears. �"niehte heard her nickname, or perhaps more accurately, heard Emiliano, and immediately got up and started barking at Rah in a high-pitched, agitated manner.

"Hey! �"niehte, iah! Iah!" Rah maneuvered his cigarette into his mouth and pushed his dog away gently, irritated at Emiliano’s uncontrollable laughter. "Yeah, thanks for that, I needed two idiots screaming at me."

"Two lovable idiots, right?"

"I guess you’re tolerable."

"Ah!" Emiliano gasped, and Rah could almost see him clutching his heart. "You wound me! Snow would never say that about me!"

Rah scoffed, tapping his cigarette on the side of his ashtray. "�"niehte would probably trade you for a dry crumb of chicken."

"Ha, ha. I know you love me you heartless bastard, don’t act so aloof."

Rah chuckled despite it all, amused more than annoyed by his sub’s behavior and words. Though that did remind him, "Speaking of being heartless, when’s our next session, hm?"

His change of subject had its intended effect, as Emiliano got a lot less confident in his teasing. "Ah ha, I don’t know… Did you have a date in mind?"

"When’s your next day off?"

Emiliano took a few seconds to think, giving enough silence for Rah to hear the general bar noises in the background. He took another drag on his cigarette. "Uh, next Monday. But I got stuff to do in the afternoon, so I don’t know if I can do that day."

Rah thought for a moment, scratching �"niehte’s ear when she nudged his hand. "What about Sunday night, after work?"

"Let me see…" A moment of quiet, and, "I mean I finish earlier for once, so I think I can do that. Probably going to be around ten, eleven o’ clock at the latest, if you’re up for something at night."

A certain photographer’s features entered Rah’s mindscape, making his face break out into a little grin. "Well, it’s not going to be entirely up to me this time, I think."

"Oh? Why? Oh wait!" Emiliano perked up from his end. "Didn’t you say you got some guy to do the photo shoot for us?"

"Hm. I did. Aden Verity. He’s got a nice portfolio." A very interesting portfolio he would add, but he kept that to himself. "I thought we could make our next session a shoot with him if he’s available. If he can’t make it, I’m still very much down for spending some time with my little pain slut."

Emiliano choked on his end. "Verga, don’t call me that while I’m with people."

He smirked wickedly. "Anyway. What do you say? Want to pose for the camera?"

"Well, you could pose me…" Emiliano suggested coyly, the hidden implications of his statement as clear as day to Rah, who was already brainstorming some nasty positions for his sub to be in.

"There is another thing though," he stated ominously, rocking himself leisurely in his swing. "If you’re getting photographed, you’re getting your hair cut."

Silence.

Then, "Oh…"

Ah. He sounded so flustered all of a sudden. Rah liked that very much. "Don’t tell me you forgot that little tidbit of information now, hm?" He teased.

Emiliano sounded so torn when he answered, "Yeah, no, how could I forget? Ahem. If it’s what…" he lowered his voice, and Rah could imagine him hunkering down close to his phone, "If it’s what Master wants…"

"Oh, it is." Rah ran his hand over his own hair, fingers catching on the slightly outgrown side-shave. "But think about it a little. Call me tomorrow morning when you’re not drunk if you want to do this, will you?"

Emiliano laughed loudly. "How did you know I was drinking?"

"Emil. You’re at a bar at," he checked his cell’s time, "one o’ clock in the morning. And you sound hammered."

"Fair. Fine," Emiliano relented, "I’ll take that as my sign to head home then. Call you tomorrow!" If he remembered, that is. "G’night Rah!"

"Go to bed."

"Yeah, yeah! Bye!"

Rah hung up just as his sub did, mind now filled with thoughts of another person.

Aden Verity.

Sitting back as he stared at the moths flying around the light, he wondered what could be going on inside the photographer’s head during the shoots. Aden proved to him time and again that doing this project was by no means in his comfort zone, even if the man didn’t say anything while sitting behind his camera. His actions alone spoke loud enough for him.

He flipped his phone in his hands, tapping it against his leg agitatedly. Rah had thought Lucas to be a good starting point for someone like Aden who had no previous - known - experience with BDSM or intimate photography, but when the time came to do his boy’s transformation, he found himself needing to push his sub a tad beyond his limits, disregarding his promise that Lucas would be "Perfect for a beginner". In turn, Aden reacted with uneasiness, fear, distrust of the process. Rah didn’t blame him. He had barely explained anything to the poor photographer, and suddenly he’s throwing him head-first into a not-so-gentle introduction to BDSM down in the den.

And yet…

‘I never asked you to make me comfortable, or whatever the hell this is.’

The only thing Rah had done was ask if Aden was alright. Though he appeared distressed, Aden had vehemently denied it, spat those confrontational parting words to the barber. But then he goes on to criticize him for being rough with Lucas, as though his dominating charade bothered him.

So, which is it? Aden’s a man full of contradictions, he could tell, but figuring out the truth between the lies, the hiding behind a mask, was proving to be a challenge.

In hindsight, Rah might have been better off starting with someone like Keiji, who’s far easier to handle and less prone to riling him up. Alas, he’d already more than beaten himself up over his blunder with Lucas, just in that first day alone. For every small step forward, the world made him take a gigantic one right back, and he wondered how many he would need to take before Aden and him trusted each other completely.


It was apparent Aden still didn’t trust him. Rah had put up barriers of his own after that first session with Lucas, and the subsequent apology and reiteration of his and Aden’s professional relationship. Part of him thought it odd, maybe even suspicious that Aden wanted to continue being his photographer. A paranoid side of him wondered if the man wanted to expose the "shadier" facet of his business, but then again, Aden had clearly seen what his client had been doing in the barbershop, back when he came to speak with him the other day, and yet he’d said nothing of it. Not a word.

Maybe…

Maybe he’s interested?

Curiosity. That was the excuse Aden had given him for his acceptance of the photo shoots. But curiosity is a funny thing. It’s either sated or pursued further, and with the way he kept coming back for more, Rah had a feeling the ever-professional Aden had yet to be satisfied.

Why else would Aden have followed him to his shop back then?

He wouldn’t lie to himself. Rah was interested in Aden beyond the confines of their contract, even if only to be friendly. Of that, there was no doubt. Honestly; how could he not show his own curiosity for the man after Aden had seen his den without turning around and running away (immediately, that is). Someone who’s a prude might have gasped and tried to cover their eyes, or someone completely uninterested might have made up some excuse to not be involved, but Aden?

Aden had taken steps into his den. Looked around. He’d stayed long enough to listen to Rah explain what he did in there. And most importantly, he came back. Twice.

Curiosity?

It would take a lot more than a good poker face and a shrug to convince him of that.

Fascination? Maybe. Interest? Of course.

Desire?

Hm.

Now that.

That could explain a lot.

That would be making assumptions about Aden however, and Rah’s not so arrogant to think he knows exactly what’s going on in his head under that dark chocolate mop. He could very well be mixing his own feelings for the photographer into this.

Scratching and whining startled Rah from his musings. �"niehte stood in front of the veranda screen door, pawing at the chipping wooden frame.

Rah stood, smashing his cigarette butt into his ashtray. He padded barefoot towards his dog. "Bathroom and cuddle time with the TV if you don’t chase the cotton-tails, deal?"

�"niehte panted happily, only ever wanting to invade Rah’s personal space - and promising nothing when it comes to her and the rabbits.

XXXXX

The chatting of men and women and occasional laughter bounced off the walls of Aden’s studio. Every couch and sofa in his waiting lounge was occupied, and every surface had a glass of water or coffee sitting on it. Drinks were provided by him during such large events, and this one has lasted well over an hour.

"Okay, if you could put your shoulders back a bit? Yes, perfect, that’s great," Aden said as he gestured towards the man in front of his camera, a guy in his late forties, early fifties, wearing a sharp three-piece suit and matching tie. He took a few shots, camera flashing and light hitting off his reflectors.

A banking company had booked an appointment to get their employee portraits done. Professional-looking bankers and tellers sat one at a time on the wooden stool placed front and center before his tripod, on a backdrop of white paper, either smiling genuinely or trying their best to appear unbothered by the whole affair. Men in stuffy suits they kept complaining about, women in dresses, navy pencil skirts and heels.

He finished with his current client. "Next!"

A young lady this time sat herself on the stool, lips painted in nude pink and hair up in a bun. Light teal blazer and skirt with a pale salmon blouse underneath. He studied her pose, her features, noticed the protruding mole on the left side of her nose. Her lipstick had stained the right corner of her mouth, no doubt from drinking water. She has a slight slouch, but whenever she looks to the right, her posture straightens.

Aden set to work. "Turn your body to the left on the stool and turn your face to the camera. You can touch up your makeup if you want while I make some adjustments."

The woman was oblivious to the fact that he needed no further adjustments, but he played along, watching her reach into her pocket to find a compact and her lipstick. Aden hadn’t told the woman her rouge was smudged outright, but the suggestion to reapply it planted the idea that she should look her best, and so, she played right into his hands without the need to point out the staining, which might have been embarrassing.

When she was done, he took his pictures, telling her to turn and pose as needed, and sent her on her way. Only seven more and he would be done with this corporate nightmare of a shoot.

‘This is boring’ he thought.

Another man. His colleagues came in the photo studio with him, chuckling at some distasteful joke. The man sat. Aden repeated the tedious process.

‘This is long…’ his brain, once more, complained.

An older man, receding hairline, wide-brim glasses. More shots.

‘You could be doing something a lot more interesting than this’ Aden’s mind kept taunting him.

He tried to shake that last thought away, hyper fixating on his work. This was no time to be thinking about that particular thing. "Turn a little to the left…" he called, eyes looking through the viewfinder.

More flash-photography, another person, a woman. She placed her hair around her shoulders for the portrait.

‘You could totally use your lunch break to spice things up around here.’

Aden’s hands tightened imperceptibly on his camera. "Next!"

One after the other, the remaining employees all got their photos taken. Aden did everything he could to concentrate on their portraits, on ensuring their likeness conveyed confidence and trust to the people who would eventually see them. It took about thirty more minutes to finalize the appointment, but eventually, his studio was quiet yet again.

Sighing, he temporarily locked his door and put up his "Back in an hour" sign in the front window. Heading into the back of his studio where his laptop and other electronics were, Aden settled heavily into his swivelling chair, rocking it back a couple of inches as he did.

He was hungry, but food was the last thing on his mind. An appetite of another kind ate away at his gut.

In the last three days since returning from Cathairsis, his mind had not quieted with its far-from innocent imagery, and he was nothing but a prisoner inside his own traitorous body, one that responded eagerly to the licentious thoughts without a care for what Aden wanted. Or didn’t want; perhaps that would be the better way of putting it.

Thrice now, he had succumbed. But he didn’t go down without a fight, even if his battle tactics were anything but stellar. Distractions in the form of porn, of gay men rough f***ing and making fake noises were on the menu, and even though it wasn’t great, porn was better than the alternative his mind wouldn’t let go of. Loud moans and wet smacking drowned out most of his mental dialogue, and the visual stimulus prevented him from reimagining…

"Ugh!" He clawed at his face, fingers tangling in his chocolate waves out of frustration.

Damn it all, he could jack off right here, right now; that’s how bad it was. He never did this. He never let himself satisfy his needs in his studio, his workplace, but if he didn’t do anything with himself, he would surely blow a fuse.

What the f*** is wrong with him?

"Ah!" Aden screamed as his cell began to ring inside his pocket. Sighing agitatedly, he straightened himself and took the call without looking at his screen. "Hell- ah, Verity Studios, how can I help you?"

"Aden? It’s Rah Hemlock."

"R-Rah? Rah! Hi, sorry, you uh," the words ‘you caught me just before I was about to jerk off’ came to mind, but he clamped his mouth shut. Nonsensically, Aden readjusted his appearance, and tried to sound calmer when he finally spoke. Of all people to call him right now, why did it have to be Rah? "You caught me while I was eating." Lies, lies, all lies.

"Oh? Do you want me to call you back?"

"No, no, it’s fine, I have some time to spare." And it would give him an incentive to keep his misbehaving dick in his pants.

"If you say so. I’m actually calling to set up our next appointment." Rah didn’t sound skeptical for once, but it’s so hard to tell over a phone call.

Rolling his chair over to his laptop, Aden opened his schedule up. A scowl pulled at his lips at the sight of his calendar; so many filled timeslots this week and the next. It might be hard to find any room for a session at Cathairsis, and he made this known to its owner. "I can try finding some space in my schedule, but no promises. I’ve got my hands full until the end of next week."

"Well, about that," Rah started, "I think I mentioned doing some of the shoots at night, didn’t I?"

He tried recalling the conversation. It had been during their second meeting at the barbershop. "You did. Why?"

"Emiliano, one of my subs, has a bit of a f*** up schedule. He works night shifts a lot, so doing anything during the day cuts into his sleep. He is available Sunday night, but it would be late."

"Sunday night…this Sunday?" Aden asked, mouse dragging down across his laptop to find the date in question.

"Too last minute?"

He cocked his head to one side, finger tapping against his desk. "What time are we talking about here?"

"Midnight."

"Midnight?" Aden parroted, forcing himself to keep his voice level. Well, technically he had told Rah his schedule was flexible and that he would try to cater to his companions, but so late? Honeyed irises checked what appointments he had Monday morning. He didn’t even know why he was considering the date at all. He never does shoots on Sundays unless it’s a wedding.

"I get that’s it’s late," Rah said from his end. "I can see if Emil is available some other time if-"

Monday’s appointments were only in the afternoon. He could just come in later. All he needed was to keep that morning empty and everything would be fine.

He stopped himself. Why accommodate Rah over someone else? Scratch that: why accommodate Rah at all? ‘Didn’t you just tell yourself you don’t do Sundays?’ he reminded himself pointedly. Sh*t. Why is it so hard to say no to Rah? It’s not like he wants to see…

…him.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t, he doesn’t, he doesn’t.

No. Of course not! He’s confused. His mind’s a pile of gooey mush because he’s just a little hornier than usual. After all, it has been a while since his last fling. Maybe all he needs is to get laid. Maybe all he needs is a little more "me time" this week and he would be good.

It’s the shoots. He knows that’s the problem. Even if he’s not into the whole trichophilia thing, or interested in getting hurt or tied up, he’s still subjecting himself to intimacy the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in two years. That kind of pent-up energy has to come out eventually, and being subjected to Rah’s treatment of his boys probably just pushed those feelings out a bit. All he needed was an outlet, some time to himself, maybe go on a dating app and find some f***-buddy he could sleep with and ghost the next day.

He's fine.

Still, the matter remained: accept the Sunday night shoot or not?

Plea-ease! Keiji’s tortured cries echoed in his mind. He trampled the memory down, focusing instead on Emiliano, or what Rah had told him of the guy. Something about…alternative tastes? Christ, he’s already having trouble dealing with what Rah considers his "tamer" boys, so Aden couldn’t help but be afraid of what "alternative tastes" could mean for his sanity. It wouldn’t be anything boring, that’s for sure.

Boring.

The Cathairsis project couldn’t be further away from boring. No stuffy office people in business suits raiding his coffee supplies and making insufferable jokes about their partners they clearly couldn’t care less for.

"Sunday the 23rd, midnight at your shop. I’ve booked you."

There was surprised silence at the other end of the line, and just a moment later, an amused hum. "I’ll tell Emil about the good news then. Thank you."

"It’s…it’s fine." Aden sat back in his chair, eyes trailing to the ceiling.

"Aden?"

"Yes?"

A moment’s hesitation. "I need you to know what you’ll see when you get to the den."

As per their agreement. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. "I’m listening."

From Rah’s tone alone, Aden knew he might have bitten off more than he could chew. "This is not going to be anything like Lucas or Keiji. So, listen carefully, and…keep an open mind."

Aden swallowed. Taking a deep breath, he stole himself for what information Rah was about to impart on him.

XXXXX

His head tossed around on his pillow, hair tangling as sleep evaded him. Again.

For heaven’s sake, not again. Not a-f***ing-gain.

Growling, Aden ripped the blankets off his body and struggled with his lamp. Blinded by the warm light, he nearly tripped out of bed, hand steadying himself on his bedside table.

"Why, why do you let him fill your head with this sh*t," he muttered under his breath. Sitting heavily in his padded armchair, he grabbed his laptop, slapped it onto his naked lap and waited for it to finish powering on.

‘Come on, come on’, he fumed.

At last, he quickly opened Google and began typing as fast as his groggy brain permitted it.

He couldn’t rest not knowing what the f*** Rah had meant by "predicament bondage."

"Ugh, no," Aden uttered. His search wasn’t off to a great start. Images of women in compromising positions flooded his screen. The last thing he needed was to see a pair of tits and a vagina. Alright, understanding his dilemma, he changed the search term.

Predicament bondage. Specificity: male.

Voilà. Dicks everywhere. Progress-

Oh.

Oh, dear God.

He’s not a religious man, but Lord save him in this moment. Aden groaned and rubbed his face. Why? Why, of all things, did it have to be something like this? After Lucas and Keiji, it’s no wonder Rah had cautioned him to keep an open mind, but damn…this is testing his limits.

He brought his hands together in front of his mouth, exhaling slowly.

Something stirred within him at the sight.

Stirred and awoke him.

Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t.

He snaped his laptop closed and hastily grabbed his phone from the bedside table. He headed to the bathroom and didn’t even bother to turn the lights on; he didn’t need them. Frantic hands tore open the third drawer in the vanity, blindly searching for the two items he knew were there.

He crouched down in the shower without turning it on, found something decent to watch-

And aggressively squeezed lubricant onto his toy suctioned to the bottom of the stall.

XXXXX

Continued in part ten.

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