Helotry

Chapter 3

Tréy double checked the tripod and flash umbrellas. His hands were sweating. He plumped up the pillows on the velvet couch. Satisfied, but still nervous, Tréy turned to find Rik standing in the doorway clad only in a towel.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Come on in."

Rik paused to examine the prints displayed on the walls. These were some of Tréy's favorite works, an homage to the many boys he had loved.

"Beautiful," Rik said, pointing to a black and white nude.

"You like that one?"

"I like dark, light." He made a gesture with his hands, creating shadows on the wall. "Boy is beautiful," he said with a sad smile and discarded his towel. "Where you want me?"

Tréy bit his lip, a hundred different answers flitting through his mind.

"Ah, on the couch for now." He busied himself with the camera in his hands. Rik reclined among the cushions as if he knew his best angle and exactly how to work it.

"I'll do a few test shots. Just want to get the light right." Tréy took a deep breath and focused through the view finder.

Rik blinked in the flare of the flash. "Much bright."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but it creates the shadows you like so much."

Rik nodded and maintained the pose. Tréy clicked through a series of photographs, grateful he wore heavy denim trousers which obscured his arousal.

"How about standing against the wall?"

Rik obliged and stood with his back pressed up against the wall, like a soldier at attention.

"Turn around and try to relax. Close your eyes even."

Rik's eyes narrowed as he turned, drawing his arms in beneath his chest. He looked so vulnerable, so fragile. The scars were beige stripes against the copper of Rik's skin, cross-hatched and varied. He'd endured a beating more than once.

Tréy dropped to his haunches, changing the angle of the shot to maximize the sense of exposure. The tattoo enhanced the image, flowing along Rik's form, guiding the eye across the plains and hollows of his body.

"I'm just going to move the hair off your ear, okay? Stay exactly as you are."

Tréy brushed the curling strands from the pointy tipped ear. A tiny feature that marked Rik as something other than Kishari with their small, rounded ears. Tréy's hand hovered above the arch of a shoulder blade and recessed spine, wanting so much to touch. Instead, he retreated behind the camera.

"Damn, that's stunning." Tréy stared through the view finder. He dropped to his haunches again, surreptitiously rearranging his erection. Rik watched him.

"Oh, I..." Tréy's cheeks warmed.

"You want to touch?" Rik asked, turning around and taking a step closer. "You own me."

Tréy frowned, "I don't own you."

"You give food." He shrugged. "I do what you want."

Rik approached and touched Tréy's chest, sliding his hand down the shirt. Taking a large gulp of air, Tréy trailed his fingers across Rik's chest through silky hair.

"I would love to touch you, but I don't own you." He set the camera down.

Rik's chuckle was tainted with bitterness as he undid the belt and buttons of Tréy's pants. Tréy grabbed the man's wrist and studied the golden eyes peering into his own.