Up for Air Pt. 03

"Yeah!" I get up after she hugs me, and walk over to the bowl I keep my keys in. On a lanyard is my car key which has my house and mail key also attached. My spare key ring is sitting underneath them. I pull it out and toss it over to her. "Move in whenever. I'll warn you that D&D on Friday gets kinda loud, and can go real late, but otherwise, y'know, feel free."

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Friday couldn't have arrived soon enough. Waiting for my results has been hell, and I was grabbing the last of my things, when my phone rings. I grab it and answer, without even checking the number. "This is Trevor Lichen."

"Hello, Mr. Lichen. I'm just calling with your test results. You came back negative for everything," the nurse says over the phone. I think it was the old lady who took my blood. "As a young gay man, I do recommend that you continue with Preparation H Treatment, as you are, simply because of the risk. But otherwise, yeah, all good news.

"Thank you! I actually picked up my prescription yesterday. I just wanted to be sure that I was safe. Have a good day!"

"You too!" -Click- The line is dead. I finish packing my bag, grabbing my leather jacket, thinking that Mitchell liked it. I'm grabbing my keys when my phone rings again. It's my mom.

"Hey Mom! What's up?" I answer.

"Hey honey! Just calling cause I miss you. I worry about you being out there all by yourself," her dulcet tone rings through her microphone. I often joked about her being one of the ASMR people because she always speaks in such a soothing tone.

"I'm okay, mom! Better than okay. How's the siblings?"

"Your brother is the Quarterback for the football team! And your sister has asked to start piano lessons but she also asked me about a binder."

"Oh? Did she say anything about her gender identity?" I ask, clearly knowing Mom was asking for my guidance.

"Nno, but I'm just worried. I know that binding can be harmful to the body."

"If done wrong and with the wrong equipment it can. But getting an actual binder and using it as recommended won't do any harm. Amelie deserves to be comfortable in her body, and that's okay."

"Thank you, baby."

"Anytime, Mom." I get into my car and put her on speaker. Turning the key in the ignition causes the rumble. I pull off the curb and start my trip

"I'm not stopping you from driving, am I?"

"No, ma'am! I've got you on speaker so I'm not distracted. I'm just heading to this study event with a friend. Well I'm meeting him there."

"Not Aaron, right?" She's always sounded so disdainful of him.

"No. His name is Mitchell. We're in Storytelling in Media together. He does a lot of photography."

"Oh. Good. I'm glad you're making friends, Trevor. I worry about you." When she says this, for the second time in a conversation, I know something is up.

"Mom, what's going on?" I ask trepidly.

"I haven't been able to get a hold of your father. He's supposed to see Amelie this weekend but he won't take my calls," her explanation soothes me a little. My parents got a divorce shortly after I graduated High School. My Dad was Old Money rich. He knocked my mom up after dating her for a week, and his parents forced him to marry. When I came out, they cut him out of the will, which changed the entire house dynamic. He was sullen and hostile to pretty much everyone when he was drunk. The rare times he wasn't, he was the Dad I had growing up. My mom won the Jackpot on a lottery ticket and served him divorce papers. I had known it was coming beforehand, but we didn't have the money to leave. So when she won, she got us all out of there, before serving him the papers. During the divorce, her lawyer argued that because she was forced to get a prenup, it should be enforced and her assets should be protected, and that he wasn't entitled to any of it. They were distant at best but she still supported his right to see his kids.

"He'll show up, Mom. He always does. You know him. He actually will make time for her." I say, sounding more confident in him, than I normally do.

"I know you're right. Oh! Your cousin! He- Sorry! She came out as trans. She doesn't have a new name yet but I thought you should know."

I laugh. A little harder than I probably should have. "I've known for a while, Mom. I was the first of the LGBT in the family. I'm practically The Foretold One, to the cousins."

"Oh! Well, I was just excited for her. She gets to be who she wants to be now! How's your living situation? Do you need money?" She's doing rapid fire topics today. I kinda smirk at the question about money. Even though she's a millionaire, I'm here on student loans. She told me it was for good credit.

"I'm asking Jamie to move in. Apartment is kinda lonely. I'm okay for money, though. I appreciate you asking."

"Okay! Oh jeez, I forgot! Your aunt Sonya is leaving her husband because-" she launches into a tirade as I drive. I simply respond with a "yeah" during the pauses. It isn't very long for me to pull up to the location Mitchell had texted me. I see there is underground parking.

"Hey, Mom! I love you. I'm going to park underground though, so I'm gonna let you go."

"Tell your friend I say hi! And I'll send you a care package as soon as I get time! I love you!"

"Love you too." I end the call and park my car, before going to the service door. I see it needs a key. I take my phone out of my pocket and text Mitchell that I'm at the service door. After about three minutes, he arrives to let me in.

"Hey, handsome. You look good!" He says, excitedly. He's wearing a black t-shirt with an orange flannel over it. His blue jeans have a deteriorated look to them that was definitely manufactured like that. There's his huge grin on his face, his teeth sparkling white, like he had been brushing them for an hour before coming here. I notice the dimple on his right cheek when he smiles. It's small and almost invisible. And his eyes are so full of life, that it makes me question why he ever wears those sunglasses.

"You're one to talk! I might cream my jeans, following you up the stairs," I joke, and he laughs. It's genuine. Not a "That was dumb laugh" but an actual genuine laugh that makes me feel butterflies in my stomach.

"Save it. I'm sure you'll cream plenty later," his reply has so many undertones and suggestive qualities to it, that I don't realize he stops at the elevator.

"Hey, uhm. I wanted to ask-"

"12th floor. That's the studio." He interrupts me, effortlessly. But not in a cruel way.

"Okay. I'll ask later," I put off asking, because I don't really know if he intends for anything more than just sex with me. Aaron's words are echoing in my head. During the elevator ride, it's quiet as we walk into the studio, which looks strikingly similar to an apartment, though a bunch of stuff is set up for a photo shoot. Mitchell guides me to the living room window.

"Did you bring your horns?" He asks, as he gets his camera out of the bag.

"N-No? Did you want me to?" I answer and ask, sounding more than a little confused.

"I just figured we could recreate that night, now that you know I'm not him," he says, so nonchalantly. "I thought that was your plan, with the leather jacket."

"O-Oh."

"Relax, Trevor. Shoots go best when the subject is comfortable. I was just making a joke. You seem tense and I wanted you to feel comfy before we start."

"It's just nerves. That's all. I haven't really done this before. Modeled."

"Yeah, well you're not tall enough to be a model, but you're a good muse," his grin widens. It isn't long before he's just taking pictures of me, doing normal stuff. Reading a book, looking out the window. We shoot for about thirty minutes in the living room. "Do you want to take your coat off?"

I immediately whip my jacket off, and reveal the plain white t-shirt I have underneath. I fully intend to get this shirt customized with a decal one of my players designed for me. Mitchell is watching me as I stretch. "Is this okay?"

"Trevor, you could be performing a blood sacrifice, and I'd be fine with it. You're stunning. I should have asked, but would you be okay with doing some NSFW shots? Nothing insane, but I mean, it's the whole 'heart's desire' thing." I feel his earnest effort. That he wants me to feel safe and comfortable with him.

"Yeah, I trust you won't do anything I feel is out of line," which is true. I trust him.

"Awesome. Normally, while doing these kinds of shoots, the safe word is 'evening'. So if you want me to stop taking pictures or stop what I'm doing, just say 'evening'. Can you take your shirt off and head to the kitchen?" He guides me. The way he would with a model. He swaps the position of some lights and checks for lighting composition before having me just cut vegetables. It's so incredibly mundane. I hear the camera click a dozen times as if doing bursts. And it becomes almost soothing to hear. We spend another half hour in the kitchen, before he takes me to the bathroom. This is probably the first room, where it's noticeably a set, because the walls outside the bathroom are gone. This room is preset with lights.

"I take it, you want me to shower?" I ask with a smile. He nods, as I undo my belt and slowly strip down. Normally, I just shuck my pants, but I make a more sensual display of it, taking off my pants, then standing in my underwear as I check the water. The Lights sometimes do these flares that fill my vision with bright light. With the water warmed up, I strip down, and I can feel the camera watching me with intensity. I climb into the shower and begin to wash myself. Mitchell gets closer and shoots some close ups and side profiles of me. After what feels like ten minutes, the water starts to run cold. "Hey, c-can I get out? It's getting cold?"

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't notice it had been twenty minutes already," he replies, lowering his camera and handing me a towel. He starts to dry me a little, before taking a picture of me drying myself. "Some shots might be just for me, if you're okay with it."

"I don't think I'd agree to such lewdness if I wasn't okay with the thought of you beating your meat to it later," I say with a smirk, noting his prominent bulge in his pants.

"Who said anything about me beating my meat? Maybe I'll get you to do it for me." I turn bright red at that remark. It's enough for me to get flustered as he throws a package at me. I open it up to see an embroidered pair of Boxer Briefs. One is white with a crimson embroidering, and the other is black with golden embroidering. It looked almost like lace lingerie. "Put whichever one on."

"Which do you like more?" I ask, clearly indecisive.

"Artistically speaking, the white and crimson will pop more. Peeling the black one off later sounds a little more appealing, personally," and he winks at me. I nod, taking the white and crimson ones and pulling them on. I realize once I've put them on, the white fabric is partially transparent, so it's definitely lingerie. Looking in the mirror, I see myself, in this underwear, not recognizing who I am, but loving the man looking back at me. "Hey, bedroom. Now." I follow his order.

"S-Sorry, was admiring the look," I explain but he simply says nothing.

"It's fine. You trust me?" He asks, and I nod. "I'll never do anything you don't consent to. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Can I blindfold you?" His question is so flat that I'm a little surprised.

"Yes, you can blindfold me." His hands come up, and he wraps a silk blindfold around my eyes.

"How experienced are you with rope, Trevor?" The question hits me like a truck.

"N-not at all."

"Can I tie you up?" There's a lust in his voice. I'm not really sure about this, but I also believe he'd never harm me. He helps me onto the bed.

"Yes. You can," I reply. Seeing nothing makes his touch feel electric when a soft rope wraps around my wrists. When he asked about tying me up, I thought he meant just my wrists but he goes beyond my wrists. The rope wraps around my chest and abs and through my thighs and all the way through my body. Each time he passes the rope through my thighs and over my dick, he blatantly presses against me, causing me to blush and whimper. I feel him tighten what I assume is the last knot, and I'm fully bound.

"I wish you could see how you look now. Shibari is always something I've enjoyed, and now I have this beautiful specimen all tied up." His words have a desire to them that courses through me and I feel drunk on them. My hands are tied, resting on the small of my back, and the rope is fully wrapped around me, mimicking a six pack on my stomach. It even binds up to my neck, and mouth which seems to be on a separate bind so I don't choke myself by moving too much. He's left my legs untouched with the exception of my groin. I don't really know how long we shoot. To be honest, I've fully given into how good the rope feels on my skin. When I try to move my wrists, it tugs at the rope around my bulge and it's enough to get me to moan. I hear him laugh. "It seems you're enjoying yourself." His voice sounds closer than he was a moment ago. Then I feel a finger on my left cheek and I lean into it. The rope that passes over my mouth is loosened and it comes down, letting me speak.

"Mitchell, please, I-I-I need you." I whimper out, as his finger glides over my lips. I try to suck on his finger but he pulls it away.

"You need me? Interesting. Are you okay with me touching you?" I desperately nod. Something cold touches my thigh and slides up my underwear, before I feel the edge on my skin. With dexterity I don't think I could ever have, the edge cuts the underwear without harming my skin. Slowly it's peeled out of the rope binds, meticulously. Every skin contact I feel from him is electric. It surges through me. It's weirdly different. If Aaron and I were a cataclysmic storm, then I have no idea how to describe Mitchell's effect on me. Finally freed from the confines of the underwear, he gives me a gentle stroke, and I let out an audible moan, louder than I thought I would ever do for a simple touch of my dick. I hear the camera click a few more times. He strokes me a few times, before doing a full downstroke, pulling my foreskin back past my crown, and leaving it there. I'm panting as I hear the camera take a few more shots. There's no warmth for a moment, and then I feel a tongue at the tip of my cock. "That tastes so much better right from the source," he says. He's not even hiding how horny he sounds anymore. His tongue continues to glide over my tip, poking at my slit, lapping up whatever precum I have to offer. I feel so charged as he's leisurely teasing me.

"Mitchell, I'm begging you. Please!" The desperation in my voice is something I've never heard from him.

"I don't think I could say no, even if I wanted to." His hand wraps around my dick, and he begins to give me a handjob that I think might kill me. His slow, meticulous strokes are different. Even as he strokes me, I can hear the camera click. He changes position, and his hand is forced to shift with him. His hand now runs parallel to my dick, the length of his fingers sliding down and grazing my balls before returning with a gentle upstroke. He's got me on a hair trigger. I'm a mess of moans and whimpers as I cum into his hand. It's not a small load either. Instead of stopping, he keeps going, using my cum as lube for the handjob and I try to pull away.

"Ah! S-Stop, it's s-s-sensitive," I whimper out and he chuckles, not slowing down.

"Of course it's sensitive, but if you insist on me finding something else to play with." I feel him pull away from me, only for a moment. Both of his hands rest on my skin as he moves me like a doll. Carefully, he lays me on my stomach. He lays me down flat, and pulls my dick back so that it hangs out directly in the middle of my legs. "Are you still feeling safe, Trevor?"

"Y-Yes. I know the safe word," I say. Mostly to remind myself that I know it. But also to give him some consent that goes a little further to his next action. I hear the camera click a few more times, before I feel his hand slap and hold my ass. He pulls my cheek away and I hear the camera click a few more times.

"You're so beautiful. I never thought I'd get to do this with you," he says wistfully, blowing cool air up the small of my back, sending shivers through my skin. "All these goosebumps on your skin. The little marks and nicks from cuts and bruises. I'm going to memorize every detail about you, Trevor. I'm going to use those memories to know what makes you feel the best. You're never going to feel unwanted or unsatisfied with me. Do you understand?"

I open my mouth to say something, but I'm immediately shut up by the feeling of his tongue on my hole. I let out a moan as I try to raise my hips into him. It's gentle and playful. I'm on fire with desire and pleasure and he can feel it as my fingers reach down to play with his hair, even though I can barely move. I need him to know how much I want it. How much I want him to pleasure himself and me. "D-Don't stop. Y-You're amazing." I hear him laugh as he pulls away. I shift ever so slightly to get my dick back under my body. I'm still rockhard when I feel the tip of his finger slide inside me. I don't think I've ever wanted something to penetrate me faster. Slowly, tentatively, his finger goes all the way to the knuckle, before sliding back.

"Mmh. That is such a beautiful sight." The finger drills back into me again and l let out another moan as his finger glides over my prostate. I start humping into his finger and grinding against the bed. I can hear the smile on his face. I'm visualizing it and his eyes. Those gorgeous multi-colored pools. The emerald and sapphire of his face. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I've wanted him at this moment.

"A-Are you going to fuck me?" I ask, desperately wanting to know.

"That depends. You're comfortable with bareback?" he replies, casually adding a second finger, hearing the mewling that escapes my lips.

"H-Have you been tested recently?" It feels dumb to even question it.

"Not since last year. I haven't had many sexual partners, but I can't say for certainty that bareback is the way to go."

"I'm on p-prep." I say.

"Oh so you'll let anyone raw this hole? Are you a slut?" He asks, clearly enjoying toying with me, as his fingers have their everlasting effect on me. He pulls them out of me and pulls back.

"N-N-Not just anyone. With Aaron being how he is, I-I thought I should be safe."

"When was the last time he and you had sex?" I hear this question, and I die a little inside. My stomach churns at the thought of telling him the truth, but I don't want to lie either.

"Saturday Morning. He showed up unexpectedly Friday night and spent the night."

"Hmm. How was that?" He asks, it sounds more annoyed than curious.

"Not like it is with you. You're gentle. You're sympathetic. Compassionate. You make me feel good." I hear him mumble something to himself, before he leans over me. I can feel the warmth of his dick through his underwear on my ass.

"Is that so?" he whispers into my ear.

"You want this to be intimate and passionate. He only cares about getting off. He rarely gets me off. You make it your goal to please your partner. We're the same like that."

"So, what's that worth to you? I mean if he's in rotation for casual fuck buddy, I think I deserve a little better."

"You do. What do you want?" I ask, clearly ready to bargain for a fuck he's willing to offer.

"I fuck you, you go on three dates with me?" His proposition is tempting. I got to put up a fight.

"One, and you free me from the ropes."

"Two, and I free your hands." His counter offer is more solid than anything I could do.

"Deal," I say. Immediately, I feel my hands freed from the rope that bound them together, though I'm still covered in rope.