Chapter Text
Looking back, Phainon couldn’t remember exactly why he signed up for a BDSM meetup site. It had been on a whim, really.
He never considered himself a particularly kinky person in the past. He’d had his fair share of hookups through college, and even dated a few people. Mainly girls. He’d tried things with some of them — dirty talk, roleplay, he even handcuffed someone to the bed once. It was fun enough, but stuff like that always felt a little awkward to him. Like it was getting in the way of the sex, not making it better.
And yet, he’d always been curious. Ever since he was a teenager, he’d go on the occasional freaky porn spree, clicking through the recommended videos and getting into more and more hardcore territory until he inevitably came into his hand (or sock or blanket) and shut off all the tabs, full of shame.
Making an account on the website was easy enough. He filled out all the required parts of the profile and some of the optional parts too. He was open to anything but if he had to choose, he would prefer being submissive. He was open to all genders. His hobbies included basketball and antique appraisal. He made it very clear he was inexperienced and only looking for someone who’d be alright with that.
Although it was optional, the site recommended uploading a photo. Phainon thought about it for a while, and finally uploaded a picture he’d taken at the gym locker room back in university. He was shirtless in the mirror, holding the phone at an angle that covered his face and the sun-shaped tattoo on his neck.
To his surprise, his inbox filled quickly. There were all sorts of people in there. They complimented him and promised they’d show him the time of his life. Some of them said strange and cruel things, detailing ways they’d like to hurt him. He frowned and deleted most of the messages. They made him cringe and reminded him why he’d been hesitant in the first place.
He closed out of the tab and forgot all about it, and didn’t remember again until almost a month later. It was winter, nearing the end of the year. He had a few days off work for the holiday, but unlike his coworkers who went home to their families, he was left lazing around his apartment alone.
Back in college, he’d lived in a two-bedroom apartment with three other people. But for all the fighting over dirty dishes and waiting for the shower, it had been lively. They became close friends. Every year, they stayed at school together over the holiday. Each had some issue or another with their families (or, in Phainon’s case, lack thereof).
But those days were in the past. Mydei moved to the next city down the coast, Dan Heng went back to his home country, and Caelus was traveling around live-streaming from a van. Their group chat was still decently active, but of course it wasn’t the same.
Alone in his studio apartment, Phainon passed the holiday ordering food, rewatching old shows, and doomscrolling. By day three, he was bored out of his mind. All of a sudden, he remembered about the site.
He opened a new tab in his browser and logged in. Once again, his inbox was full. He absentmindedly clicked through the messages. Bigdaddy6969 wanted to show him just how good he could make him come on his cock. scarlett_minx_89 asked whether he’d like to be flayed and pegged at the same time. He deleted most of them again.
And then he clicked on a particular message, from a user called halfmoon_4 . The user had no profile picture, and the message was simple.
Hello, you seem interesting. Given that you have no experience, how do you know you prefer submission?
Phainon was a little surprised. It was short and sweet, no innuendos, no offers. No spelling or grammar mistakes, either. Phainon felt a little intrigued.
He wrote back:
Hi! Thanks I guess? And I’m not sure. its just a hunch. I think it would be easier for someone to tell me what to do instead of the other way around haha is that dumb
He didn’t get a reply until later that night, when he was already tucked into bed.
It’s not dumb. The point is enjoyment. It’s logical to follow your intuition.
Phainon blinked at the message. Before his fingers began to tap away at his phone.
You seem really smart. Are u a guy or a girl
This time the reply was instant.
I’m a man. I can’t reveal much more than that due to the nature of my work. If that’s a dealbreaker let me know.
No, Phainon thought. Not a dealbreaker.
They chatted a little more before the mysterious halfmoon_4 suggested meeting in person. They picked a coffee shop. Phainon got there first, a whole ten minutes early. It gave him plenty of time to anxiously study the menu. He sent a message on the app. I’m sitting near the back and wearing a yellow shirt.
Right on the dot, someone appeared at the opposite side of the little round table.
Phainon did a take, and then a double take.
There was no way, he thought. The person in front of him was stunning. It was a man, but his features were androgynous, almost delicate. His gaze was sharp and intelligent. He was thin, on the smaller side, but he had a commanding presence, confident and poised. Soft mint-colored hair framed his face, slightly disheveled from the wind. The tip of his nose was pink from the cold.
Phainon was sure it was too good to be true. But then the beautiful man lifted a brow and recited Phainon’s stupid username.
Phainon was awestruck. He could only nod dumbly. The table was small and it felt like they were very close to each other. Phainon gulped and fidgeted. He put his elbows on the tabletop and found it to be slightly wobbly. He took his elbows off.
Phainon couldn’ take his eyes off the man across the table. Even his hands were beautiful, slender and well-maintained. The nails were oval-shaped and appeared to have a coat of clear polish over them. There were a number of shiny rings on the fingers, a bold mix of silver and gold.
”Um, should we order something?” Phainon tried nervously.
The man sat back and crossed his legs. He tilted his head and watched Phainon with amusement.
“It’s too late in the day for me to have caffeine,” he said. “But you should go ahead.”
Phainon floundered for a moment, unsure what to do. Should he say he was also alright having nothing? But they shouldn’t take up a table without ordering, right? He glanced up at the man’s curious eyes and felt his cheeks grow pink. In the end he rushed up to the counter and returned with two drinks, a sugary coffee for himself and an herbal tea to push across the table.
“It doesn’t have caffeine,” he offered.
He got a nod in return. “That’s very generous of you.”
In the end, they didn’t talk at all about sex or kink at all. Phainon found himself talking, rambling really, about the other parts of his life, his career, his dream to do good in the world and the slow process of disillusionment he’d experienced over the past year. He supposed he was having a quarter-life crisis, he admitted with an awkward laugh. Maybe that’s what drove him to make an account on the site. He drained his drink quickly and nervously fiddled with the paper cup until it was covered in creases.
The man across the table listened, giving Phainon his undivided attention. His eyes never left Phainon, not even for a second. He encouraged Phainon to continue his rambles, even when Phainon began to feel self conscious he was talking too much. In the end, he advised Phainon to have patience with his work, that he shouldn’t confuse slow progress with no progress.
At last, he introduced himself properly.
“Call me Anaxagoras,” he said.
His name was fitting, long and fancy, matching his demeanor. It was a bit of a mouthful.
“Anaxagoras…” Phainon repeated. “Hm. Can I call you Anaxa?”
Anaxagoras frowned. “Absolutely not,” he said.
He went on to explain he’d recently left an assistant professorship at a university to lead a research group at a private company. He spoke with the easy confidence of a person who was used to getting what he wanted. He said he was looking for something without too much commitment, biweekly or weekly at most. He said felt the two of them might be compatible. He was interested in meeting again.
Phainon eagerly agreed. Frankly, Phainon would have agreed even if Anaxa asked him to suck him off in the alleyway behind the building.
Instead, he was told to think about it for a week.
“You don’t want to be rash about it. It would only waste both your time and mine.”
Phainon left the cafe with a palpitating heart and a new contact in his phone.
He waited — two whole days! — before he texted.
Hi , he typed into the chatbox. This is Phainon! I thought about it more and I would really like to see you again.
After a few moments, he decided to tack on:
If that’s okay with you
It took Anaxa several hours to text back — after all, he had an important job at an important company. But when he did, he seemed amused. He suggested a day — the next weekend, way too far off for Phainon’s anxious heart.
I’m flattered, but what I said before still stands. Think about it until then, and only come if you really want to.
Well, Phainon did think about it. He thought about it every day. He read forums and blogs, about what to expect, about what he should do. He was terribly afraid of being a disappointment. What if he was too boring, or he broke a rule he didn’t know about?
He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, turning around to see every angle. His physique wasn’t quite as well defined as it had been in his profile picture. He’d been slacking on the gym ever since he started working full time. Would that be a problem?
Phainon even let curiosity get the better of him and looked Anaxagoras up online. He had a lengthy wiki page, detailing his numerous achievements and discoveries. He was the youngest ever member in more than one prestigious scientific society. And yet he’d introduced himself to Phainon in such a brief and humble manner. Phainon was reasonably intelligent, but he certainly didn’t consider himself any kind of genius. What if Anaxa found him to be dull company?
Still, when the time came around, Phainon obediently got onto the train heading uptown, to the address he’d received over text. He shared his location with the group chat, just to check all the boxes for safety. The neighborhood was ritzy. He walked into a fancy lobby, shiny marble and high ceilings, and he felt out of place in his jeans and sweatshirt. The concierge stopped him, and it took some back and forth before they let him in.
He paused when he made it to Anaxa’s door. He opened the front camera on his phone to fix his hair and make sure there was nothing stuck in his teeth. He knocked.
A short while later, the door swung open.
Anaxa stood in the doorway. He looked different than he had in the cafe. He was dressed down in an expensive-looking lounge set, dark-colored to bring out the cool tone of his skin. His hair was slightly damp. His face was even more beautiful than Phainon remembered.
“Use the doorbell next time,” he said. “I can’t hear knocking from the study.” He turned and began walking inside.
“Oh,” Phainon said. He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he follow him? He hadn’t been invited in.
Anaxa stopped and turned around halfway. He cast his eyes on Phainon who was still hovering nervously outside the door. His eyes flicked down over Phainon’s body, then up again. His lip curled in a half-smile.
“You can come in,” he said. “But take off your shoes.”
Phainon toed off his sneakers and arranged them neatly by the door. Anaxa pointed to a pair of black slippers placed against the wall. “You can wear those.”
The slippers were foamy and comfortable, and appeared to be brand new. Phainon followed Anaxa down the hall. The narrow walkway opened into a large living space.
Phainon’s eyes darted about. “Wow,” he said in wonder. “It’s so nice.”
Anaxa glanced at him. “Is it? I cleaned up a bit before you arrived.”
His condo was a classic unit in a prewar building. The ceiling was pressed tin, painted over in cream. Large French-style windows lined one wall and a giant floor-to-ceiling bookshelf another. The books were disorganized, placed haphazardly, but felt arty and balanced. Phainon recognized what appeared to be a velvety serpentine sofa from the 50s, curved around a long, live-edge coffee table. The place was eccentric, but so well composed it could easily be featured in a design magazine. Spacious and cozy all at once.
Phainon’s eyes traveled around the room until they landed on a nook by the window where a small table set was nestled nicely. There were two chairs, dark oak carved into elegant curves, looking almost like string instruments rather than chairs. The style was clearly art nouveau, and It looked familiar to Phainon, something he’d seen on forums and saved to his inspiration boards. His eyes lit up in excitement when he saw it. “Oh my god. Is that a Gaudi set?”
Anaxa’s eyebrows raised. “It’s a replica. I don’t have that much money to burn.”
Phainon reached out, wanting to touch the elegant carved oak, but drew his hand back at the last minute. “Still. It looks so good.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so interested in furniture.”
Phainon turned, becoming sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, well, I just like antiques, and I look at them online sometimes…”
“The design’s from the 20th century,” Anaxa said. “I believe it counts as vintage, not antique.”
”Uh, well, technically, it’s from more than 100 years ago, so it would be classified as antique…”
Anaxa was silent for a moment. “Charming,” he finally said. His tone was flat and Phainon had no idea if he was being serious or making fun of him.
He fidgeted in place, toes wiggling in the foamy house slippers Anaxa provided him. He felt the need to apologize but hesitated to do so. It was silent for several beats.
Anaxa tilted his head, amused. “What are you doing? Are you waiting for instructions?”
Phainon bit his lip. The idea of instructions felt quite appealing. “Yes?”
”Well, you’re free to do as you please.”
“But…” Phainon glanced up. He had a lot of questions. What was happening? Were they going to… start? “What do you… want me to do?”
Anaxa was watching him with a neutral expression he couldn’t hope to read. He didn’t answer for a while, long enough for the silence to become awkward.
“You’re very eager to please,” he finally said. “That’s nice. But we haven’t started yet. Sit on the couch. We’ll talk first.”
Phainon tentatively made his way over. The couch was neither firm nor soft, a plush middle ground. Still, he sat with a stiff posture, his back straight, hands on his thighs.
Anaxa joined him, bringing over two bottles of mineral water, blue glass with a metal twist-off cap. He plopped himself down a few feet away and leaned casually against the backrest. The curve of the couch made it so they were slightly angled toward each other.
Anaxa opened his bottle of water and took a sip. His rings clinked melodically against the glass.
“How was your presentation?” he asked.
It took Phainon a moment to process what Anaxa was talking about. He recalled making an offhand comment about it at the coffee shop while complaining about work.
“Um, it was alright. I can’t believe you remember that.”
“I have a good memory. Why just alright?”
“I don’t know. The donors probably liked it. I guess presentations have always sort of been my strong suit. I’m good at telling people what they want to hear. But I don’t really like doing it.”
“Why not?”
Phainon felt a little tense, unsure where the conversation was going. Still, he thought about it and answered honestly. “I’m not sure. I guess it just makes me feel — inauthentic.”
Anaxa hummed. He pulled his socked feet up onto the couch, nestling comfortably.
“How would you describe your authentic self, then?”
“I— ” A small furrow formed in Phainon’s brow. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” Anaxa had moved a little closer. He reached out. “May I touch you?”
“Yes.” Phainon’s heart started to beat faster.
Anaxa reached for Phainon’s wrist, pulled it out in front of him and turned the palm of his hand face up.
“Keep it there for me.”
Phainon nodded.
“You could argue that none of us have a truly authentic self,” Anaxa said. “We exist in relation to others and to our environment. Our social strategies are part of who we are.”
As he spoke, his fingertips traced the skin on Phainon’s hand. The touch was lighter than a feather. It drew little circles, starting at his fingers, and moved very, very slowly up to his palm. As he circled, he continued to talk, his voice smooth and melodic. Phainon was very distracted.
“…What do you think?” Anaxa asked.
Phainon looked up, cheeks pink. “U-um, sorry. What?”
“It’s no problem.” Anaxa’s fingertips were creeping toward Phainon’s wrist. “I asked how much of your personality you think is innate, and how much is shaped by experience.”
“Um, I think…” Phainon’s eyes dropped back down to his hand. For some reason, the lighter Anaxa’s touch was, the more sensitive Phainon felt. It was ticklish, almost unbearably so. Anaxa’s hand was a little cold. “I think I’m a product of everyone I’ve met… ah.”
Anaxa’s fingertips snuck underneath the sleeve of Phainon’s sweatshirt. It was just his wrist, but it was the soft part where the veins were, and it felt illicit somehow.
Anaxa looked intently at him. “Is this alright?”
Phainon nodded. “Yes, yes….”
“You’re very enthusiastic.”
Anaxa withdrew his hand. “We won’t have intercourse if you’re worried about that,” he said suddenly. “In fact, you don’t even need to undress.”
Phainon blinked, struggling to keep up with the sudden change of topic. “Oh.”
Anaxa glanced down. “You can put your hand down now.”
Phainon looked too, and dropped his hand.
“I want to try an exercise with you. It’ll be quite simple for you. You’ll only have to think about one thing, really.”
Phainon nodded. That sounded doable. “I think I can do that.”
“Good.” Anaxa swung his feet off the couch. “I’d like you to kneel on the ground in front of me. Would that be alright? You can say no.”
Phainon considered for a moment. “I’ll do it.”
He looked over and found Anaxa staring at him intently. “…Now?”
“Whenever you’d like to begin. You’re free to take your time.”
Phainon gulped. He couldn’t stop staring at Anaxa. Even though it made him nervous. The lighting in the living room was ambient and warm, making Anaxa’s delicate features look soft. His shirt had a wide neckline and when he bent over it revealed a little sliver of his chest. Phainon wondered if it was on purpose or not. It was very distracting.
Anaxa reached a hand out to him again. “Would you like me to help you?”
“I… Yes?”
“Okay. Take my hand.”
Phainon was guided across the length of the sofa. And then a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him in the direction of the ground.
The touch was gentle, only a slight suggestion, but Phainon went willingly. His knees hit the carpet. Anaxa was still holding his hand.
“That’s good,” Anaxa said, sounding pleased. Phainon felt a pleasant sensation.
“Look at me?”
Phainon looked up. This angle was… different. He was taller than Anaxa, and when they were sitting they were about eye level.
Now, Anaxa looked down at him.
Phainon had never done this before. But he didn’t feel… lower than, like the position might suggest. It was more like… he’d chosen a place with lower entropy. To rest. Anaxa’s gaze showed approval. It made Phainon feel at ease.
Anaxa took Phainon’s unopened mineral water and put it on the ground about two feet away.
“You will decide when we stop today,” he explained. “When that time comes, I want you to knock this over. Do you understand?”
Phainon nodded. “Yes.” He’d read online somewhere verbal responses were generally preferred. He tried his best to remember.
“Good.”
Anaxa reached around Phainon, under the coffee table, and pulled out a small box. He set it on the couch beside him. From inside, he pulled something out. It was a pair of gloves, Phainon realized. They were black leather, soft and expensive-looking.
“As I said before, you will only have one task.”
“Okay.”
“Your task is to open your mouth and keep it open. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Um.” Phainon could feel his cheeks flushing red as he registered. It was simple, like Anaxa had said, but it seemed to be a little bit … strange.
“... Can we stop if I don’t like it?”
“Of course.”
“Okay.” Phainon took a breath. “I can do it.”
Anaxa pulled the gloves onto his slender hands. They fit perfectly, and even with the added layer his fingers still looked long and elegant.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Phainon’s heart beat wildly as Anaxa reached for his face, cupping it in one hand. The leather felt soft but cold, impersonal, against his skin. A thumb traced over his lips. It pressed gently against his lower lip.
He was obedient, and allowed his mouth to be pushed open.
“Good,” Anaxa repeated. His eyes seemed to have gotten brighter. “You look very nice.”
Phainon couldn’t help but to like the praise. Something warm blossomed in his chest. Pride, maybe, or relief, that he’d managed to do something right.
“Keep it open, just like that,” Anaxa said. “Remember, we stop whenever you want to stop.”
Phainon nodded. It felt a little silly, with his mouth open, his tongue slightly out. Anaxa seemed to like it, though.
Something subtle about Anaxa had changed. He seemed more… excited, somehow. Maybe it was his expression, his rapt attention. The intent behind his motions. His touch was gentle, not because he was hesitant, but because he expected Phainon to obey. His movement was slow and methodical. He traced Phainon’s lips, and then his cheeks. He combed through Phainon’s hair, all the way down to the back of the neck, sending tingles down his spine.
After a little while, Phainon felt saliva pooling in his mouth. He tried to swallow a few times, with difficulty, but he couldn’t prevent some of it from trickling out.
When he felt the first dribble leave his mouth, he instinctively tried to slurp it back, lips closing in the process.
But all of a sudden there was a force prying his jaw back open. It was two of Anaxa’s gloved fingers. They caught easily on Phainon’s bottom teeth.
“No,” Anaxa said, stern, like he was talking to a dog.
Pathetically, Phainon felt the drool dribble out of his mouth, around Anaxa’s fingers, and splatter onto his pants.
“Don’t worry,” Anaxa said. “You’re allowed to make a mess.”
Phainon flushed. Anaxa was talking … down to him, he could tell, and he was made to do this strange and humiliating thing.
But it felt…
He wasn’t sure how it felt. But he didn’t hate it.
Also, he was hard.
Anaxa’s fingers didn’t leave his mouth. They rubbed back and forth on his tongue, mimicking something more lewd. He pinched Phainon’s tongue and pulled it out, bringing another splattering of saliva along with it.
“You’re very cute,” Anaxa said.
Phainon made a sound that could only be described as a whine. He cringed when he heard himself. He didn’t feel very cute.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Anaxa’s motions became more aggressive and Phainon became more and more dazed. He felt Anaxa hook his fingers at the corner of his mouth, pulling on his cheeks. Anaxa prodded the back of his throat, making him gag, until his eyes were red and watery. It was worth it when he looked up and saw the way Anaxa was looking at him.
“You’re doing so good, Phainon.”
Hearing his own name in Anaxa’s proud, gentle voice made Phainon shiver. He felt warm. He kept his languid eyes trained on Anaxa’s face. The more time passed, the messier he became. His chin was shiny with copious amounts of drool, and wet splotches littered his pants and his sweater. But he felt a strange comfort. A pleasant buzz was traveling up his neck, coating his ears and eventually his whole face. The carpet was soft underneath his knees.
He was very obviously tenting in his pants. He’d felt embarrassed about it at first, but for some reason, the shame and anxiety seemed to be getting further and further away. He even moved his hips a little, seeking friction against his jeans.
Of course Anaxa noticed. His eyes flickered down.
“You can touch yourself, if you want,” he said.
Phainon took a long time to react, like he wasn’t sure if Anaxa meant it or not. After a while, he finally moved. He was hesitant, only brave enough to rest his hand on his thigh.
Anaxa nodded at him. “That’s right. Show me. I want to see.”
With encouragement, Phainon brought his palm over himself and pressed down through his pants. The relief and pleasure was instant. He moaned involuntarily around Anaxa’s fingers. He spread his knees so he could have more space to press down.
He started to whine, and he pressed down harder, moving his hand up and down to get whatever friction he could. His hips jumped up to chase it.
His lips wrapped around Anaxa’s fingers and he could feel himself sucking on them. There wasn’t a rule against it. Anaxa seemed pleased about it, and even humored him, moving his fingers in and out suggestively. Phainon’s tongue lapped at the leather-covered digits and flitted through the spaces in between. Anaxa added another and then another, until his four fingers were in Phainon’s mouth, invasive, stretching his lips wide, forcing his tongue down. Phainon drooled around them. He felt dirty, used, useful , and then he came, white hot and sudden. He cried out, muffled and pitiful, coating the inside of his underwear.
He panted, trying to recover. He registered that Anaxa had removed his fingers from his mouth, and was now just stroking his thumb across Phainon’s spit soaked lower lip.
Phainon breathed hard. He thought things over in his muddled head, and then knocked over the bottle of mineral water. It landed with a thud on the carpet.
There was no immediate change. He felt Anaxa petting his hair, gently, the way you’d pet an animal.
“You did so good,” Anaxa whispered. He cupped Phainon’s jaw and gently eased his mouth closed. “You’re done now.”
Phainon swallowed. His throat was a little sore from the gagging. He still felt dazed, in the aftermath of his orgasm. Anaxa produced a soft cloth out of somewhere and wiped down Phainon’s face and neck. He removed his gloves and his bare nails, neatly trimmed, lightly scratched across Phainon’s scalp. It was extremely soothing.
Anaxa spoke softly, telling Phainon how well he’d done. Phainon wasn’t sure how much time passed before he finally came out of it. He blinked as if he’d woken up for the second time that day. He sat up straight.
“Are you back?” Anaxa asked. He still had a hand petting Phainon’s hair.
“I think so.”
Phainon was back, but he wasn’t. He felt zoned out, exhausted, the way he did after a particularly difficult workout. The rapidly cooling come in his underwear didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it probably should. He registered Anaxa cleaning him up, and telling him it was time for him to go home. He told Anaxa he’d taken the train there and Anaxa said he’d drive him home. He followed Anaxa down to the parking garage and got into the passenger seat of Anaxa’s car. It was a classic sedan from the nineties and there was wood paneling on the inside of the door. Phainon really liked it and ran his hand back and forth across the smooth surfaces. He left fingerprints on the shiny polish but Anaxa didn’t scold him for it.
Anaxa didn’t talk much on the ride. Just quietly told Phainon to take a shower and go to bed. Not to do anything strenuous. His voice was nice to listen to.
They came to a stop in front of Phainon’s building, a little dingy little duplex on the east side of town. The street lamp outside was flickering and further down the street, a garbage bin was overturned, trash spilling all over the sidewalk. Phainon felt a little self conscious making Anaxa come to a place like this.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said, opening the door and climbing out. He looked back. “Can I… see you again?”
Anaxa leaned over the console and gave a small smile.
“Of course you can.”