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    Demiurge
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Trash Polka - 8. Chapter 8

Being the nerd I was, I spent three hours in the morning researching Dom/sub relationships. I was intrigued, but how did you have that kind of relationship with someone without also having a committed relationship? Everything seemed so intimate. Giving someone that much control seemed crazy to me. Other than August, I’d never been sexual with a person I trusted that much. I wasn’t sure if I’d even trust August that much. Or Alec.

I snatched my glasses off my face to rub my eyelids. I’d been staring at a screen for so long and it wasn’t about to get any better. This week’s pictures would drop soon and I was far too keyed up to not watch my audience’s reaction to them. I slid my glasses back onto my face and tried to ignore the awkward, short side pony that was revealed to me when my screen went dark. I had a small amount of time to myself and I needed to be away from the computer.

I pulled my sweatshirt over my head. Then I padded out of my room. I should eat something. Drink some water too. I aimed for the kitchen but stopped abruptly when I noticed my living room wall. The partially done dragon called to me and my eyes narrowed down on a portion of scales that seemed off. Walking forward I traced my fingers over the paint. Why did they seem off? I dropped down to sit cross legged on the ground and popped open my black paint.

It took a moment to find a brush that wasn’t dirty or stiff but then I got to work. I fixed edges and altered shapes, using black as a kind of eraser since it matched the base wall. I set the black aside, pushing the brush over so I wouldn’t sit or step on it when I wasn’t paying attention. I didn't need to up my chances of tracking paint through my apartment. Rooting through my brushes, I rubbed my cheek with the back of my hand. A disgruntled noise tore from me when I felt liquid slide across my cheek. Great, I’d smeared paint over my face.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the dark brown color I’d done most of the outline in. It was easy to cover and a perfect color to build upon. I wanted this dragon to eventually be gold. If I ever finished it. I’d done most of the main line work, but I added lines here and there. The issue was, I was hypercritical of my work and was constantly "fixing" things. I had no idea how much paint was smeared over my person and I quickly lost track of time. Only my phone ringing from my office stopped me. I looked down at where my hand was frozen, brush in midair.

Why was my phone going off? As far as I knew, I had today off. I dropped the brush next to the one I’d used earlier for the black and wiped my hands clean on a nearby towel as I tried to think. I would only have set an alarm if I needed to remember something. It had to be an alarm because otherwise my phone didn’t make a sound. I wouldn’t allow it.

Then I remembered. The pictures. Also, I was supposed to eat and drink water earlier. I looked up toward the kitchen and then back in the direction of my bedroom. I could take care of those things after I checked on the pictures. It’d be fine. Yeah, no worries. I closed my paints and hustled back into my room. I grabbed my phone and then quickly made my way into the office. I whipped my mouse around until my screen lit up and keyed in my password quickly. Plopping into the chair, I linked my fingers together and rested my chin on them as I waited. My alarm had gone off five minutes ahead of time so I had just enough time to settle in when my screen flashed and everything went live.

It always started slow, but then it’d pick up. Well, hopefully it would. If it went like it usually did. I dropped my hands and then picked one up again to rub along my stubbly jawline. My eyes darted across the screen as notifications started to come in. Then, it was like someone flipped a switch. Suddenly, I couldn’t keep up with all the notifications and the sounds as they popped up and started to become overwhelming. I took a breath and turned down the volume so only one of my senses was getting violated and a slow smile started to form.

It was going great. I’d never seen the numbers climb so high, so fast. I closed my eyes for a moment and let myself just breathe. I’d been freaked out for nothing. People were eating it up. I should’ve known. With Alec’s tweaks on the lighting, we looked amazing. It highlighted all Auggie’s defined muscles and even managed to make my less impressive ones stand out. I cringed as I got to the ones where the fake blood came into play. We had cleaned for hours, but I don’t think August’s apartment would ever be the same. That shit had gotten everywhere. Totally worth it.

Leaning back in my chair, I let out a breath of relief and scrubbed my hands down my face. It was a load off my shoulders. I’d taken some pictures for next week that had been much lower effort. That’d finish up the month and I needed to plan the next pictures. We had a list of ideas between Alec and I, but I had to be inspired or the pictures would feel flat. At least to me. This was a side job and it made me a decent amount of money, but more importantly, I refused to turn out something I wasn’t proud of. I’d grown up being told I was a gifted child. That I would do amazing things. It left me with quite the complex. So yes, I was posting naked pictures online, but they had to be perfect.

Like everything I did.

I shoved my fingers through my hair and double clicked on the calendar saved on my computer. Picture drop dates where pink. Planning days for pictures were orange. Picture taking days were red. Tattoo appointments that were full day sessions were blue and half days were purple. Bills were yellow. Anything additional: friend dates, birthdays, other plans were all green. It was meticulously kept and organized as simply as I could get it. It’d taken me a few years, after I started living alone, to realize I craved structure.

There were a lot of things I struggled with. Time management and remembering important dates and times were one of them. Money had also been an issue. I’d been raised by a mother living paycheck to paycheck. Financial literacy was something I hadn’t been taught. There’d been a long time where I couldn’t afford to pay all my bills at once or at all. Once I’d cleared that hurdle, I found it was near impossible for me to remember when bills were due. Automatic payments were a godsend for me. To this day, I was scared I’d miss a payment. Which meant, I kept obsessive track of my finances. Work and finances were one thing I always monitored. All of it was set up with notifications and reminders on my phone. So many it was impossible to forget.

Now, if only I could add little things like eating and drinking water to that list of priorities.

My phone vibrated on the desk and I lifted it. I stiffened immediately. Kenji and I talked about stepping up whatever we had going on last night. We’d discussed talking on the phone or in person, but we hadn’t made any concrete plans. Which is why I didn’t know what to do when I realized it was him calling. Biting the extra skin off my lips, I went through a panic. What were we going to talk about? He’d mentioned a certain lifestyle, but would that really be our first conversation?

When I realized I’d been letting it ring for a while, I stabbed at the answer button with my thumb, “Uh, yello?””?

There was a pause, “As in the color?”

His voice was quiet but deep and there was no reason for me to like it as much as I did. Shrugging it off, I leaned my chair back farther and rubbed my chest. Where my heart was keeping a near violent beat. Running my fingertips over the bridge of my nose, I frowned a bit. I was at a disadvantage here. Through text, I had way more time to formulate witty responses.

“No. You nerd. It’s just a greeting.”

“In what language? It’s not present in any of the ones I speak.”

“Oh, brag much? You just had to casually let it drop.” I rolled my eyes and grinned more, “Blah, blah, I’m a polyglot, blah blah.”

Fabric rustling, an exhale that was almost a chuckle and then, “That mouth.”

“What about it?” I said, letting a stupid smile spread across my face.

The clear of a throat, “Disrespectful.”

“Sure is. Respect is earned, friend. What’ve you done to deserve it?” I touched the tip of my tongue against my smiley piercing and smirked.

He muttered something in what might be Japanese before sighing, “Fair enough. Are you working?”

“Thought you knew my schedule?” After a heavy exhale on the other line I laughed, “No, I take Saturdays off when I post pictures.”

“Makes sense.” He said, “What was the theme this time? Ruin another Pokémon?”

I laughed and flicked my eyes to my money feed. A little surprised, I tripped over my next words, “Uh, nah. No. Not this time.”

Papers rustled and I heard an object scrape against glass or something, “I see.”

I swallowed and looked away from my screen, “It was vampire themed and I had a guest.”

For some reason, the silence made me keep talking. I wasn’t uncomfortable and I didn’t feel like I had to fill the silence, but I wanted to. It felt like he was giving me a chance to continue, which was an odd feeling. I spun slowly in my chair and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“A guest?” He made a noncommittal noise before his voice grew more distant, “How’d that go?”

“Really well, I think. So far anyway. It’s been one of my best releases so I guess maybe I should do it more often. You free?” I laughed. He chuckled softly but it sounded far away. I tilted my head to the side and hummed softly, “Do you have me on speaker phone?”

“I do.” He answered and I swore I heard a pen drag across paper.

“Oh, are you working? I probably shouldn’t say anything obscene or make vulgar noises.” I grinned and started mentally preparing myself to embarrass this man.

“Go ahead. Make all the noise you want. No one's going to hear you. If they do, they won't say anything. It would surely make my work more interesting.”

“Well that takes the fun out of it.” I sighed.

There was a long pause that teetered our conversation on the edge of awkward before there was another noise and then a sigh. His voice got louder, “This conversation is a little strange for me. The nature of our second meeting is as well. I stumbled upon your page after I overheard one of my staff. Never did I think it’d go this far.”

That was very direct. Wait. There was suddenly too much spit in my mouth. What? This changed things for me. My perception of him was tilted on its axis and I wasn’t sure what to say. The man still crossed a paywall to get to my content, but it didn’t feel the same. It made sense now why there was no history of him buying anything or sending me money before. There was a chance he was lying and he was still a weird pervert, but something in me believed him. He didn’t seem like the type of man who would lie. Or felt like he needed to.

“What’d you think was going to happen when you paid to get access to my page and then opened the private messaging part?” I asked as my mind spun.

“Good point. I obviously took steps to facilitate conversation.”

I paused, “Wait, you said you recognized me! How would you do that if you just ‘stumbled’ onto my page?”

“I said I stumbled on your page. I didn’t say when.”

“Okay, so you came on my page and didn’t buy anything? Gross. You’re ruining the vibe. The vibes are now like…if hot dog water was a feeling.”

“…And how did you decide I’d never bought anything?”

“Your username. It tells me when you’ve purchased content or made donations.”

“Ah yes, because it’s impossible to have a different username.”

“To be honest, I don’t really know how that works. Fair enough.”

“Did you compare me to hot dog water? The things you say, honestly.”

I laughed and ran my fingers through my hair, “So, you were saying that it’s weird for you to be communicating with someone a half step up from camboy…”

“Is it not odd for you to speak to one of your customers?”

Letting my head fall back against the rest on my chair, “I’ve never done it. I did see one guy who found my pictures before we met up. That did not go well. While we’re on that topic, I’m going to need you to promise to not handcuff me to a pipe if we meet.”

“I cannot imagine having to restrain someone against their will to continue having access to them. I don’t generally have to force people to want to…spend time with me.”

“Oh my god. Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“Pardon?”

I grinned, “I was just concerned you’d strain it with how much you had to stretch to pat yourself on the back that hard.”

Another exhale of breath. This one maybe…incredulous. Definitely a stifled laugh. Had to be. That was a good joke. He cleared his throat to cover it up and sighed, “I have never met anyone who talks to me the way you do.”

“See? I was right? It is a kink! You like being bullied by people you find attractive.” I laughed, “Oh, I’m sorry. It was ethereal, wasn’t it?”

“Brat. See if I ever give you a compliment again.”

“Aw don’t be like that. It just made me think you’ve never hit on anyone before.” I sighed, “Though, I’ve seen you. I doubt it takes much effort for you to find people to spend time with. They probably come to you.”

“How very kind of you to try and see it from my point of view.” He said dryly.

“Although, not going to lie, I’ve never been called ethereal before. I should make that a picture theme. Should I name it after you?”

A chair creaked and I could almost picture him in a lavish office, leaning back in a chair that was worth more than my monthly rent. He seemed like a guy who had someone make all his spaces hyper modern. Not because minimalism helped his mental health like Alec, no. I felt like he did it because this generation saw modern and minimalist as successful and wealthy. The new generation of pretentious. Lame. Give me giant mahogany desks and floor to ceiling bookshelves any day.

“Do you say things to rile people up or do you truly just thrive on chaos?” He asked, humor in his soft voice.

“Maybe a little bit of both. I am an agent of chaos, but bothering you is entertaining.” I admitted, grinning.

“Duly noted. I’m in Korea until tomorrow and then Japan until next Thursday, but after that, perhaps we should meet in person.” He said, "Again."

There was an odd feeling in my stomach and I rubbed my thumb against the tattooed rose on my hand, tracing the petals that traveled over my finger. I had to make a real effort to sound unbothered, “A chance to bully you in person? How could I ever pass that up?”

“We’ll see if that’s how it goes. I’ve work to do. Goodnight, River.”

“Don’t work too hard. Make sure to take plenty of time to call other boys you met on the internet!”

The line disconnected and I took a deep breath. I set my phone down on the desk and tugged at my hair as I looked up at my ceiling. It’d be so much easier to concentrate on anything but my phone conversation if the ceiling wasn’t a boring solid color. It did help me ground myself either way as I made plans for what I should paint. Heaven forbid, I have a plain ceiling and have to do something awful like be alone with my thoughts.

I groaned and stretched my legs out as I leaned forward to rub my eyelids. I did it until I saw weird universes behind my lids and it took my eyes a while to focus when I opened them. What should I do about all of this? We were both obviously interested. Neither of us made commitments. He was attractive, he thought I was attractive. Where was the issue? I was sure that even if I explained things to my friends they would understand. Maybe.

What was there to hold me back. Logic made an appearance and I thought of Alec’s reaction to things thus far. Though, he hadn't mentioned it the last few times I talked to him. I thought of how concerned everyone was for me. They thought I was putting myself in danger and no matter how I justified it, I doubted they’d be okay with me and Kenji talking. Let alone meeting up in person. Cameron was already suspicious. Sighing, I stood, leaving my page up and letting the messages and notifications keep coming in.

If I went through with this, it didn’t have to be public knowledge. All we wanted from this interaction was sex. It wasn’t unusual for me to forget my partners’ name, so why did I even need to mention this to my friends? It might be slightly riskier than meeting randoms in the bar, but not by a lot. I’d been making changes for them and I would keep trying to better myself. That’s all they wanted. They wanted the best for me and I would strive for it. I would just indulge in one more bad decision before fully committing to changing this aspect of my life.

It wasn’t like I had a long track record of commitment issues.

Eyyyy
It wasn't a secret that I loved Ken in I Hate This Town, but damn. He do be fine🥵
Copyright © 2024 Demiurge; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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15 hours ago, Mattyboy said:

Ken is so different from any of your other characters -  powerful source of potential story-energy there.

He is very different and tbh writing him was a challenge for me. His hot dog water vibes are hard to communicate 

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Love their banter.

 It surprises Kenji he’d be attracted to someone sassing him, I think it helped he was attracted to him before, lol.

 I also consider it refreshing that someone with such a conservative demeanor is totally accepting of someone….not, lol.
  He does have two tattoo sleeves, so still waters and all but Kenji will also be affected by his interactions with River in unexpected ways.

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On 3/28/2024 at 2:03 PM, Demiurge said:

@weinerdog how dare you bring sportsball into this? 😨

Sportsball?!?!  
Do you mean baseball?  
Baseball deals with big, hard bats…. not a bad topic at all. ☺️

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