Chapter 7 #2
The texture of his smooth, soft skin on his palm and his fingers, and the sensation of his warm palm, and his fingers dragging over his skin. He reacted with a shiver, and goosebumps spread down his chest. He rolled his fingertips over them, following their path down his body.
He dragged his hand beneath his belly button, stroking his skin, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. The skin was softest there, not corrupted by sensitivity.
Scott slipped his hand further down, over the coarse hair he kept neatly trimmed, until he cupped his flaccid cock.
He opened his eyes.
“Good, Scott,” Thomas said, still using a low voice. “That was much better.”
Scott shivered, thankful Thomas had stopped looking at him and had turned his attention to the camera instead. Buttons clicked, and Scott knew he was watching the footage back from the slight reflection in his eyes. “Really good,” Thomas murmured.
Scott shivered again.
“Remember to arch your back, stretch out your body.”
“Oh yeah.” Scott blinked in quick succession. “I forgot.”
“Ready to go again?” Thomas asked.
Scott nodded.
“Close your eyes.”
Scott shot him a suspicious look, then shut them.
Thomas talked him through it.
Again and again.
Every time Thomas said he’d done well, or better, the praise rushed from Scott’s ears down his body. The sensation was an internal shiver. Scott didn’t outwardly react, but he felt it buzz through him, a cool current that left a warmth behind.
It didn’t make sense, and neither did the erection Scott felt in his boxers. He’d been so distracted by his internal reactions to Thomas’s praise that he hadn’t noticed he had an external one too. He didn’t know whether that was Thomas’s doing, or his own hand caressing his body.
Thomas didn’t say anything about it, and Scott decided he wasn’t going to draw any attention to it either. It would remain the elephant in the room, twitching its trunk and leaking from the tip.
“I think we can tick that one off,” Thomas announced an hour later. “That tease of your hard-on is an added extra. Well done.”
Scott’s cock jerked. It hadn’t been intentional, but Thomas believed it had been.
“Thanks,” he said, sitting up.
“Will it go down on its own, or do you need to…” Thomas tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Sort yourself out?”
“It’ll go down on its own,” Scott mumbled, grabbing a pillow from the top of the bed to cover himself.
“I thought we’d do the ‘cum’ running between the pecs next.”
Scott sighed. “On second thought, I’d better sort myself out so we can use it.”
“There’s no need. I got it covered.” Thomas pointed at the pot on the side.
“Is it yours?” Scott asked.
“Of course not,” Thomas snapped. “It’s the substitute. If you sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, I’ll be able to set the camera up on the tripod, then I can drip the cum onto you.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Scott got on his knees and didn’t move once Thomas had zoomed in on his chest and throat. The substitute Thomas had found worked perfectly. It was a great consistency, had the exact milky colour of cum and was odourless.
Scott managed to not get an erection, but he wondered whether that was because Thomas had stopped praising his efforts, complimenting his skin or telling him to stroke himself.
His fingers twitched.
He was soft, and smooth, and firm, and blemish-free.
That was why men desired him.
Those attributes weren’t maintained for him; they were for his clients.
They were to entice them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched his skin and actually felt it.
Even the day before, when he was jerking off on the bed, it had been a numb sensation until the orgasm burned hot and fast, then it fizzled back to numbness.
“Scott,” Thomas said sharply.
Scott sucked in a breath. “Sorry. I zoned out.”
“I said we got it. We got the shot.”
“At this rate, we’ll be done by lunchtime.”
Thomas nodded. “That’s the idea. Then we can go through them, pick the best ones, add music, or sound effects, a bit of image enhancement –”
“Then we can post them?”
“No. We need to make more content for your subscribers first, otherwise they’ll be left disappointed when they sign up and demand their money back.” Thomas spun round and pointed to the floor. “I need you down here.”
“What?”
“On your knees in front of the camera. I’ll lower it, direct it down at you, then I want your eyes shut and you biting your full bottom lip.”
Scott slipped off the bed and got down on the floor. He shut his eyes, bit his lip, and waited.
“Not so hard,” Thomas whispered. “Release your lip a little, and relax those eyelids… Also, open up your face.”
“Open my face?”
“It closed off. Relax your features, put your shoulder back. It’s vulnerable being on your knees in front of someone…”
Scott frowned. He didn’t feel vulnerable on his knees, or sucking cock. He’d always felt the opposite, powerful, in control, in his goddamn element. In fact, he’d not felt vulnerable with any of his clients, any except him.
Warren.
Scott hadn’t been in control that night, and every nasty, grotesque thing that spewed from snarling lips could’ve happened.
Scott wouldn’t have been able to stop it.
He’d been vulnerable, helpless, and scared.
“Too far,” Thomas whispered. “You’ve gone too far.”
“What?” Scott blurted, opening his eyes.
“You looked frightened.”
“Sorry, I…”
Scott didn’t say anything more.
When Thomas cupped his cheek, Scott froze, wide-eyed.
“The camera couldn’t see your face properly,” Thomas explained as he repositioned Scott’s head. “There we are. Eyes closed. Lip slightly bitten. Expression open. Chin lifted. Shoulder down. Beautiful.”
Another flash of cold followed by a slow simmering warmth went through Scott’s brain. It was the wrong moment to find out he had a very specific praise kink. Specific to Thomas. He’d been called beautiful hundreds of times, but while he was in work mode, while he was that Scott, the escort.
Not whoever this Scott was because he wasn’t sure himself.
Thomas had always made it crystal clear Scott wasn’t his type, but he’d called him beautiful at least four times that morning, and it gave Scott a happy buzz each time he did.
“Here it comes,” Thomas murmured. “Don’t overact.”
Scott’s lashes fluttered as cum hit his face. It ran over his eyebrow and his left lid before clinging to his cheek.
“And another,” Thomas said, dropping more cum. “And another…” He hummed, satisfied. “I think that’s a one-shot wonder.”
Scott smiled. “Don’t you mean a three-cumshot wonder?”
Thomas laughed. “I see what you did there.”
Scott opened his eyes, only to find one opened like normal, but his left eyelashes clammed together. “Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing his eye.
“I thought that might happen.” Thomas sighed.
“What is it?” Scott asked, trying to pick it from his lashes.
The substance left Scott’s fingertips tacky, sticky…
“Thomas…”
“Yes, Scott?”
“What is on my face?”
“Your nose…”
“It’s glue, isn’t it?” Scott said, flaring his nostrils. “It’s actual glue.”
“You said you needed a cum substitute,” Thomas replied. “Like glue. I got you glue.”
“Like glue!” Scott jumped to his feet. “Like it, not it. I wasn’t telling you ‘like glue’ – I was telling you I needed something like glue.”
Thomas shrugged. “Well, you can see why I got confused.”
Scott stumbled into the bathroom with Thomas hot on his heels. With only one eye, Scott had no concept of depth perception and walked into the sink. He reached for the washcloth, only to knock a fake plant onto the floor.
Thomas grabbed him by the hips and guided him to sit on the toilet seat.
“I’ll sort it,” Thomas mumbled.
“My eyelashes are stuck together.”
“Only a few of them.”
Thomas wet the cloth, then came over. He wiped glue from Scott’s cheeks, chin, lips and eyebrows before gently stroking his lashes to free them from the glue.
Scott kept his good eye narrowed the entire time.
“There,” Thomas announced once Scott was able to flutter his eye open again.
“Something like glue.”
“Not like glue. I get it now.” He flung the washcloth into the sink. “No harm done.”
“No harm?” Scott asked, heaving himself up from the toilet. He stumbled over to the sink, and the washcloth inside caught his gaze. He widened his eyes at the number of plucked-out lashes, then gaped at himself in the mirror.
There were gaps in his lashes.
Huge fucking gaps.
He spun around to face Thomas. “You bastard.”
“They’ll grow back.”
“How long will that take?” Scott asked, pulling at his eyelid, counting his remaining dark lashes.
“It doesn’t look that bad –”
“I look…” Scott stared in the mirror. “All wonky.”
“Wonky?” Thomas moved to stand next to Scott and peered into the mirror. “Oh yeah…”
“What do you mean, ‘oh yeah’?”
“We could pull out the lashes on the other eye, make them match. I’ll get my tweezers.”
“No.” Scott dropped his hand back by his side. “We need…we need to go to the salon.”
“Salon?” Thomas tutted. “I’m not going to any salon.”
“Now, Thomas!” Scott roared. “We’re going. Right. Now.”