Cathairsis (Part 12) by Fantasy Weaver

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This soon after finishing last chapter? Why yes! Another one is here already! As stated at the end of the previous chapter, this is the first of a new type of chapter: "Coffee Break" chapters. These serve almost as checkpoints in the narrative, and allow for the story and characters to grow outside of the intense scenes in the den. As it stands, there are four of these chapters scattered throughout the story, this being the first of them. This may be subject to change, as even as I write this and follow my outline, I learn more and more about my characters and how they interact with the narrative. Anyways. This a shorter chapter, but not quite short enough to fit into a single part, so, once again...please consider this one and the next as a single chapter. And fair warning: this is a swear-heavy chapter, more so than usual. Thank you to everyone who commented last chapter!

Part twelve 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

Coffee Break 1 - Defensive and Unaware - Part 1

XXXXX


"MOTHER."

The screen flashed again, slowly.

Tired eyes looked at the time. Seven in the goddamn morning. He’d slept four hours, if that.

‘It’s too early for this sh*t…’ Groaning, rubbing at his face, Aden fell back in bed, phone vibrating in his right palm.

Alright. Time to get this over with.

With a huff, he swiped to receive the call. "…Hello?"

"Aden, baby, it’s your mom!"

Chirpy, happy, energetic, and far too chipper for his liking at this hour; yup. It could be no one else but Laureen Brown. Besides, there’s only one person in the world that calls him "baby" - a nickname he wished his mother would let go of. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "Yeah…good morning."

"I didn’t wake you up, did I?"

She sounds sorry, too sorry. This rehearsed phrase, he’s heard before. No matter how many times he tells his mother his work schedule, she always manages to call at the worst possible times. Granted, he’s not at work until this afternoon today, but last night’s (or this morning’s) session with Rah hadn’t exactly left him feeling rested at this time.

Nevertheless, he did as always: "No, no, it’s…I was about to get up anyway."

His mother chuckled sweetly from her side. "Okay, thank goodness. Anyways, how are you? I haven’t seen you since spring break. The girls miss you too."

The girls referring to three of his four sisters living with his mother, those of whom were still in high school at the time: Cynthia, Sophia and Amelia. "I’m fine. Haven’t really had time to come visit. Sorry." The half-truth came out easily. In reality, Aden preferred to keep himself busy. Busy meant unavailable.

"I know, I know, you have to work to keep that studio open. But once in a while, you can visit us, you know?"

"Yeah, I know-"

"And Aden, honey, you have to meet Tom! I wasn’t able to invite him over last time, but he’s such a good man and I’m sure you’d get along with him. I went on this trip with him three weeks ago-"

And off she went, ranting on and on about this trip of hers and Tom, her most recent boyfriend. She spoke animatedly and with reprieve about her weekend with Tom, and before Aden could get a word in to stop her or divert her, she continued by following up her story with details of a supper she shared with her coworkers at her job.

"Yeah, that great, but-"

"Oh, we laughed so hard I think the waiter thought we were crazy!"

Aden stared at the ceiling, the words going in one ear and out the other. There wasn’t anything to be done other than to wait until his mother was done talking; she hardly left any breathing room in her rants to let anyone, least of all her children, get a word in. Self-centered? Well, that’s what the therapist had used to describe her, but Aden would not have minced the words in her place, calling Laureen out for the narcissist she is.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to indulge in this chit-chat more than strictly necessary. He didn’t care if he was to cut her off in her current story. "What were you calling for?" He sharply asked, perhaps a bit more harshly than needed. He had his suspicions about the nature of the call, but only his mother could confirm if they held.

"Huh? Oh, right," she stopped mid-sentence, attention turned to the matter at hand. "Well, since you’re so busy with your photo studio," she lilted, and he scowled at the tone she chose to deliver that line with, "I wanted to make sure you’re still coming home for your birthday, so we can celebrate you."

That’s something he always disliked about her, he mused: Aden had never said he would come visit on his birthday, never even mentioned it, but his mother spoke as though it was already set in stone from the start. He tried to keep his annoyance in check when he responded to her. "I don’t know if I can."

"What do you mean, you don’t know? Your birthday falls on a Sunday, and you don’t work on Sundays, right?"

How she can recall his days off and disregard his working hours was beyond him, but he decided to not focus on that. That’s a loosing battle. "Yeah, but I might have a wedding shoot to do, and if it’s on the twenty-eighth, I don’t know if I can come down."

"Well, you can always come down after you’re done, if you have to work. It can just be for diner."

‘Lie. Just lie.’ "I already have plans with some friends for the evening, mom."

"Can’t you go out with your friends on Saturday night? Wouldn’t it be better that way?"

God, she just wouldn’t let it go. He sat up in bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, their schedules didn’t fit. Look, it’s no big deal. We can just do it some other day."

Here, he heard his mother sigh, and her voice came out pitifully, "But we always do dinner on your birthday. And me and the girls really want to see you."

Aden sighed.

He really didn’t want anything to do with a birthday dinner or celebration of any kind. As it often did, just the thought of his birthday made his stomach roil unpleasantly. Why his mother was always so insistent on celebrating it was beyond him. He’ll chalk that up to her compensating for her sub-optimal parenting, but that didn’t exactly help the lump in his throat or the weird thumping of his heart.

And then there was the matter of his siblings.

Aden knew for a fact that his mother wanted all of her children present for any get-together she had planned. Cynthia, Sophia and Amelia, that’s one thing; they live with her. But the others? Lydia, Darren, Owen, he could tolerate them on their own. He likes his sibling, like any older brother, but it’s who they bring with them that makes family functions…hard to bear.

Lydia, she might bring her new boyfriend. Fine, sure. His younger brothers though, they have their wives and children. Owen sired three of them in one go; triplet boys of two, rowdy, loud, and far too touchy to Aden’s liking. Darren also has his five-month-old girl who’s quite the handful to deal with. With everyone in the same house, it’s bound to become a nightmare for his eardrums and a pain for his head.

And…he’s had enough of kids to last him a lifetime.

"Look, mom," he started, leaning his head against his headboard. He knew she would not stop pestering him to come, so all he could do was negotiate. "I can…come down the Saturday after, okay? What is that, the second, third of August?"

"Can’t you come the week before?"

Breathe. "No."

"Oh. Okay then. Why not?"

‘I knew it was too early for this. I should have just texted her.’ Sighing hard, "Because I have plans, mom. Saturday the third, okay? It’s close enough, just a few weeks."

"I already told your brothers and Lydia it would be the twenty-eighth of July."

Oh, for f***’s sake. She always does this. Why does she always do this? "Look, I can tell them the date’s changed, alright? It’s not a big deal. Even if they can’t come, we can still do dinner with the others."

"Yeah, but it would be nice if they could all be there," she said, her complaint hidden behind a veil of good intentions.

He doesn’t believe it for a second. But he’s learned to ignore that side of her. "I’ll talk to them, alright? Look I have to go to work," he offered, pretending to sound hurried, "Tell the girls I said hi-"

"Tell them yourself! Wait, I’ll pass you to-"

"Sorry mom, I’m running late, I don’t have the time. Talk to you later, bye."

"Okay, I love-"

He hung up.

Slumping against his bedframe, Aden let out an exhausted sigh.

Five minutes? Was that how long the call had lasted? Less? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it took very little time for his mother to agitate him. But what else is new?

He did his due diligence though. As soon as he could, he messaged Owen, Darren and Lydia to tell them of the change of plans. He hesitated asking his brothers if they could leave their offspring behind this time, but as much as he didn’t like children, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Darren’s daughter especially needed to stay with her parents. And Owen’s triplets, well, hard to find anyone to babysit those three all at once. He’d be lucky if his father decided to that for one of his sons.

Ha. That would be asking the guy to do "a woman’s work" though. And as certain as Aden is that Richard Verity is a decent grandparent, he’ll give credit to his mother for at least looking after her grandkids.

Huffing once, he slipped out of bed. There was no way he would fall back asleep now. Breakfast and a shower sounded great. He could always take some time to do some editing, find something to do with his free morning. Not that he really wanted to be up so early.

Slipping his bathrobe over his naked form, Aden made his way to his kitchen and set about making himself some coffee. While he waited for his morning brew to percolate, he padded over to the patio door to pull the curtains back and let some light in, allowing the golden rays to warm his skin and melt the sleep from his body. A notification from his phone had him pulling his cell up to his eyes. Darren had already answered him, his message reading, "It’s all good on my end. Busy with work the weekend before?"

He snorted, typing out quickly, "Yeah, something like that."

Instant reply. "Bet ya mom loooved that."

His coffee was ready. Heading to the kitchen, he tapped out, "Her own fault for not checking with me first." Opening a cupboard, he grabbed a mug and poured himself some sweet, sweet caffeine.

It was a moment before he checked his phone again, busy with preparing himself some toast. He munched on a bite with chunky strawberry jam, eyes focused on Darren’s text, "You know she does it because she cares. She’s trying hard to be better."

Aden scowled. Darren was always too forgiving of their parents, but he couldn’t entirely be mad at him for that. His youngest brother hadn’t had to endure as many responsibilities as Aden growing up, giving him a better outlook on both their mother and father. A luxury Aden didn’t have.

His fingers were typing out a message before he could reconsider it. "If she cared, she’d apologize."

Darren didn’t answer him this time. Maybe uncomfortable. Maybe at work. Aden didn’t know. He ate his toast in silence, trying to put the matter of his family and birthday aside.

As he had his breakfast, he couldn’t help but think back on Rah’s words from last night. "I guess it’s nice to have a friend who remembers though." Did Rah not have anyone with whom to celebrate his birthday? Or maybe it had never been as big of a deal in his family. Aden wished that had been the case for him, but alas, he was always stuck feeling some type way before, during and after the yearly event.

As much as his strained relationship with his family could very well be to blame for that, Aden didn’t think that was the whole reason he felt this way. He could clearly recall birthdays as a young boy, five, six years old, excitedly inviting friends over to the house, smiling, happy. Joy-filled memories of long-ago times that seemed lost to time now.

The first time he could remember feeling this…nervousness? That was probably on his eighth birthday. A question from his father, about a birthday present? Relief when the day was over. What had he gotten that year? Some toy? Yes, a Lego set, if he recalls correctly. They had sold it during a garage sale years ago.

Simpler times. Today, he gifts himself his own presents, and doesn’t expect anything from anyone, doesn’t even want a celebration. Alone, at home, relaxed and away from others, was how he’d always preferred it.

He did dimly wonder what Emil had given Rah as a present. Emiliano had mentioned the pieces of paper being his "other" present, so what had he given Rah before that? What kind of stuff does a sub give their Master as a gift, anyway?

Thinking of those two was doing nothing to help his agitated state. Yesterday’s-slash-this morning’s session came back to him, everything from Emiliano’s predicament to Rah’s massage. He almost didn’t want to open his laptop and plug his SD card in, afraid of the pictures he’d taken, and of their effect on him. He was sure that his untimely arousal had remained hidden from the barber’s perceptive gaze, but…there was that one moment, after Rah had, ahem, made a meal out of his boy; he’d flicked his eyes to his crossed legs for just a moment. Could that had been enough?

Surely not. Rah would have said something.

Honeyed irises slipped to his cellphone.

Right. He knows what to do with all these damn feelings. Is it deplorable? Is it humiliating, stupid, desperate? Yes, yes, yes and yes, but will it help?

Oh, it absolutely will.

He’d promised himself he would do this, so it was with very little resistance that Aden downloaded Grindr back on his phone and headed off to take a freezing cold shower.

XXXXX

Tuesday arrived, and as Aden was having his lunch break, he edited some pictures he had taken last night after an eventful day. The 24th of June means fireworks to celebrate the provincial holiday - one he had decided to work on anyways because his bills won’t pay themselves. Now he sat, munching away while on his break and looking through shots of colorful, sparkling fireworks on the dark backdrop of the sky.

Much nicer to edit these than…

He shook his head, focusing on the pretty pictures instead.

His cell vibrated on his desk. Swallowing the bite of his sub sandwich, he quickly checked the caller ID; if it was anyone other than his family, they could wait-

"Rah Hemlock."

His brows lifted ever so slightly.

Reaching, his hand neared his screen, but his finger stopped short of swiping the decline option. Instead, it stayed there, and Aden watched Rah’s name flash on his screen another time. There’s…no reason for this. For hesitation. Reconsideration. Rah’s a client of his as much as the others, and therefore, Aden should just finish eating and get back to him later.

But he’d already violated his own rules when it came to Rah.

A defeated grunt left his lips, and soon he had his cell up to his ear. "Verity Studios, how can I help you?"

"Hi Aden, it’s Rah."

He knew that already, but he played along. "Hi. Is there something I can help you with?"

The man’s smooth voice had an excited tint to it, drowned under a veil of seriousness as he said, "Yes. The other day, I said I’d try to book appointments with you in advance, and I was hoping we could schedule the rest of my boys’ photo shoots right away."

"All of them?" Aden couldn’t contain his surprise. They’d spoken of it barely two days ago. Rah’s organization skills were certainly coming through again, reminding Aden of their second appointment together, of that leather-bound notebook. He put his lunch down and struggled to find some paper towels to wipe his hands, holding his cell with his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, I can see what I can do, give me a second-"

"There’s no rush."

He’s right. Part of him argued he should listen to Rah’s words, maybe even tell him to call him later, but strangely, he didn’t want to. He sat before his laptop, discarding the napkins. Opening his calendar, he began, "Tell me when your partners are available and I’ll try to fit them into my schedule, I’m listening."

"Sure. Uh…" Rah seemed to be checking things on his end as well, "Okay, let’s start with Jasper, he’s the one I’m most concerned with. His days off are Wednesdays and Thursdays, but he’s leaving in two weeks for a trip out of the country, so I was hopping you had some availability soon. I know you said you’re booked until the first week of July…"

Aden’s eyes roved over his timeslots, biting the inside of his lip in thought. Wednesdays? All of those were booked until the end of August. Alright, what about Thursdays? Oh? "Lucky you I have a spot on the fourth of July, that’s Thursday evening, at five thirty. How’s that?"

Rah’s relieved sigh echoed through his cell. "That’s perfect, thank you so much. I’m sure Jasper will be glad too."

"Yeah, no problem. But, since I’m looking," he started, eyeing the filled Wednesday slots, "Do any of your partners need an appointment on Wednesdays? Because if they do, I only have slots from the second-to-last week of August or later."

Rustling from Rah’s end caught his attention. "That would affect Blake, but he’s not even going to be here for most of July anyway, so I think it’s better that way. So would that be the twenty-first?"

"Exactly. Any preferred time?"

"Whatever’s best for you, Blake’s pretty flexible."

He checked, filling a spot for him. "Afternoon? Say, two o’clock?"

"Wonderful."

A similar conversation happened for each of Rah’s boys in turn, with each of them compromising on the dates or adjusting them as they saw fit. In the end, they put Conor on the ninth of July, Liam on the nineteenth, Yuri on the sixth of August and Axel on the ninth.

"Are those all of them?" Aden asked at last.

"Not quite, we’re missing Aimé. I nearly forgot about him."

Aimé. Aden tried to remember anything about him. Rah’s newest sub, if he recalled. "Alright, when is he available?"

"Yeah, uh, that’s the thing. Aimé’s only availabilities are Wednesdays and Sundays, and he starts Uni back in August. Should have realized that when you asked about Wednesdays before."

Meaning Aden couldn’t book him after Blake. Damn. And Sundays, f***, he’d already pushed it with Emiliano. He couldn’t book an appointment like this on a Sunday. It’s not a wedding, and Aden likes his days off as much as anyone else-

Sunday.

He quickly checked something, eyes falling on the date he was looking for. The twenty-eighth of July.

He thought for a moment. When his mother had called, he’d lied and said he was busy on that day, but knowing her, she’s probably going to pester and prod at him until he spits the truth out and admits he just wasn’t feeling like indulging her. Unless… Unless he actually is busy, with work perhaps.

Work that involved Rah tormenting his sub, but work nonetheless.

"Look I don’t usually do this," Aden started, to make sure Rah wasn’t making any idea out of his continued generosity, "But I’m not doing anything on the twenty-eighth of July. If it isn’t too late at night, I don’t mind doing the shoot on Sunday."

"You would do that? For real? Aden, you don’t have to-"

"It’s fine, it’s fine," he dismissed, trying not to smile at the tone of Rah’s voice, how happy he sounded.

"Look, if you need to charge me extra, I don’t mind."

"Jesus, Rah, I said it’s fine. Weren’t you trying to get discounts out of me the other night?" Aden leaned back in his chair, a weird fluttery quality to his stomach he could do nothing to relieve.

Rah seemed amused at the mention. "Yeah, I guess I was. Are you sure, though? You don’t need to give me special treatment just because my project is outside of your normal photography range."

Aden sighed, in some ways almost wanting to tell Rah he’s avoiding the annual dread-fest that surrounds his birthday, yet trampling that thought in the same breath. Rah doesn’t need to know about his private life, just like he doesn’t need to know about Rah’s. "I swear, it’s okay."

The man’s low chuckling reverberated, "Alright, Aden. If you say so."

Why did he not like the sound of that? And why did it make those butterflies more intense? God, he needs to get these stupid feelings under control. He leaned forward, filling out the appropriate timeslot. "So, uh, how does four o’clock sound?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

He saved the changes to his calendar. "Looks like you’re all set. Is there anything else?"

"Hm…Well," the man said, "have you thought about the price change and the album photos?"

Christ, he’d forgotten about those. Before he answered Rah, he stuck a reminder in his schedule to review said details. "Uh, yeah, I haven’t looked into it yet. It’s my fault, getting distracted by other stuff. I’ll make sure to check later this week."

"Hm, it’s alright. I’m sure you have a lot of work with all this nice weather we’ve been having. I just don’t want this to be a burden to you- Oniehte! Iah! Sa:tien!"

Aden startled, heart jumping to his throat at the sudden harshness of Rah’s voice and the even more sudden shift to words unknown to him. "Is everything alright?"

There was some ruffling and a…growl? A whine? Something distinctly non-human. "You little sh*t- Ah. Sorry about that," Rah apologized with a huff, "my dog decided I wasn’t eating my bacon fast enough and tried to steal it." Dog? He didn’t take Rah for the kind of person to own a pet.

Well, apart from his pet boys.

‘Not the time to be thinking about that’ he admonished himself. "Guess that’s my cue to get back to work then. I’ll text you with the price details or call you when I have them."

"Great, thanks a lot. Have a good day, Aden."

"Yeah, you too. Hopefully you can eat without your dog stealing from you again," he chuckled lightly.

Rah snorted at that. "If you knew her, you’d know better than to say that. Alright, see you next week."

"Sure, bye."

He hung up, intent on going back to eating his lunch, but Aden’s eyes spotted a notification…from his dating app.

A match. He bit the inside of his cheek, work and lunch completely forgotten, a different kind of hunger taking him in it’s unyielding hold. He checked the guy’s profile.

Lives in Lévis. That’s perfect, he’s from the same city. English-speaking. Wonderful. Looking for a hook-up, no strings attached. Good, great. Interests? He didn’t really give a damn, but let’s see…likes to collect vinyls, restore motorcycles, plays pool. Eh, whatever. But the real question is, what does he look like?

Superficial to care about a guy’s physique? Perhaps, but if he’s going to have mind-boggling sex with him, then Aden wanted to at least have something nice to look at.

Something to distract his thoughts, forget about anything, or anyone, else.

He decided to try his luck, and started a conversation.

XXXXX

Work passed by at an agonizing pace of too-f***ing-slow. Aden did his photo shoots with his head halfway between concentration on his projects and somewhere else entirely, possibly a fantasy involving dick and riding it.

"Oh, wow, les photos sont belles! C’est parfait," his current client said, as they went through the prints of their family photos. The man flipped through them with a smile on his face. "J’te dois combien?"

Aden struggled more than he would care to admit with French, even if he’s lived in Lévis and worked in Québec city his whole life. Understanding it, that, he’s good at, but speaking it? Well… "Ah, je dois regarder le receipt, uh, the-"

"La facture?"

"Oui, that’s it."

…He could do with some practice.

Thankfully, most people are quite understanding of his struggle, and many more revert to English for him with a laugh - and a sigh of relief from him. Older people, like his current client though? They tend to stick to their preferred language. That’s just working in the public for you. Then again, his brain power being split between work and leisure as it currently is, was not helping in his translation efforts.

Through more gesticulating and half-assed French, he did manage to finish with his last client of the day. Of the week! He nearly skipped his way to his car when his studio was closed and locked for the weekend, and not even the light drizzle could break his mood.

Tomorrow, his booty-call and him had agreed to a "date". Let’s be honest though, it was more of an excuse to size each other up before either leaving for Aden’s place or Jacob’s own home. Jacob.

They’d exchanged conversations over their dating app, and pictures. A solid seven-point-five out of ten. Maybe eight. Bright blue eyes, dark brown hair and a good enough physique that made Aden lick his lips and unceremoniously jack off when he’d seen it. They’d not been horny enough to share dick pics, but at this point, he’s riled up enough that he would take just about anything if it fits in his-

Tomorrow. Maybe if he was a good enough f***, Aden would deign to sleep with him more than once. But that’s assuming he’s good.

Smiling, he relaxed on his way home.

XXXXX

Continued in part thirteen.

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