Photography Session: Session Three

April 15, 2010

This is actually probably less of a series and more of a short story snipped into a few parts to avoid a big block of text. Anyway, part three. To find part one and two, scroll down or click the tag. And here’s part four.

The sure and steady touches told me that he was back in the mind frame of an artist once more. The way he dipped in and out of it was thrilling, leaving me both breathless and not a little wary. I’d known him for a good part of a decade and worked with him almost as long. This, though, was new.

I hissed as he shoved me against the footboard, the edge of it digging into my hips. The bangs that I’d kept pinned up to the side started to fall into my eyes. “Do you mind?”

“No.” He moved briskly, able, nimble fingers pulling my shirt this way and that. “It’s going to be your shadow, Cam.” I jumped when he freed the top button of my blouse.

“Ow!” My buttock burned from the slap. The sizzling sensation darted through me, alerting every single nerve ending in my body. I curled my fingers against the footboard. “What the hell was that for?”

“Hold still.” There were no rooms for argument in those words. He tugged the collar of the shirt down a little and pulled at the excess fabric. The fabric wound about me, seams tight. “If I don’t do something for your body, it’s going to look like Lukas’s trying to seduce a man into the bed.” I bit back a protest when he left me and went to readjust the soft boxes. One of the lights hit me in my eyes. I squinted. “Now stay there.”

“But I-”

“You’re not in the frame, Cam. I’m just using your shadow.”

The lights flashed with a series of pops. I blinked, my vision going spotty with white circles.

“It helps if you don’t look into the light.”

Lukas.

Quinn’s spiel had unnerved me enough that I’d forgotten about him. Blinking away the glare of the light, I glanced back at the bed.

He’d settled back to the top of the bed. The slacks hung low on his waist, the hard edges of his hips peeked over the top. His pants dipped far enough that I could see the slight curves where the muscles on his stomach began to taper off, drawing my gaze even lower.

I choked on air as I traced out the bulge there.

He chuckled. “My eyes are up here, Cam.”

“Sorry.” Cheeks aflame, my eyes flicked back up to his face. If there was a smile on those lips moments ago, there were no traces of it left. “I, I just-”

“Don’t talk so much.” He shifted slightly. The lights flashed again. Unfazed, he tilted his head. “Or if you do, don’t move.”

These two were switching gears faster than I could manage to follow. They left me off-balanced, feeling as awkward as a newborn giraffe stumbling on uneven grounds. The steady throbbing between my legs intensified, as to remind me of my body’s displeasure at the direction the conversation was heading. “I didn’t move.” I paused. “Did I?”

Quinn had circled around the bed. He nodded Lukas, gesturing with his hand. “You did.”

“Sorry.”

Lukas crawled across the bed, shoulders rolling lazily. “You know, Cam,” he tugged me over to one of the bed posts. “You do have a delicious little body under all those layers. Why don’t you show it off more?”

I let him arranged me against the bedpost, not trusting myself to not make a fool out of myself if I tried. “I wouldn’t be able to run about and do my job if I did. And you know Quinn. He gets grouchy if he doesn’t get his coffee.”

Settling back on his heels, Lukas studied me. I jerked back reflexively when he reached out. A corner of his lips lifting, he twisted a strand of my hair about his fingers. “I don’t think he’ll complain, Cam. I think you’re just scared.” He tucked the strand behind my ear and glanced at Quinn. “This works?”

The lights flashed. “Looks good.”

“I’m not scared.” I held still, fingers wrapped around the wooden spiral, feeling silly and awkward. Perhaps if I were like Lukas or Quinn, confident, unfaltering. “I’m not.”

“Oh yes you are.” Lukas peered at me from behind his bangs. “It’s one of your more endearing qualities though.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, a hint of a furrow between his brows. “You’re untrained, awkward. Clumsily innocent. But you wouldn’t be Cam if you aren’t.”

There wasn’t much that I could say to that. So instead, I closed my eyes. I had a hard enough time staying there without needing to focus on being caught staring at him again.

But there he was against the black backdrop of my eyelids, damnably persistent. The taunt span of skin, the dips and arches of his form, the shifts of his muscles – they teased my mind with the possibilities. The memories of Quinn’s fingers lingered over the small of my back. Warm, each phantom stroke teasing the tingling sensation between my legs back with a vengeance. The feeling enveloped me, enflaming my skin.

Footsteps shuffled, punctuated by the clicks of lights being adjusted. The blankets whispered and the bed creaked. And then I made the mistake of opening my eyes.

Sprawled out, Lukas had curled an arm about the bedpost behind him, long limbs unfolded. His chest rose and fell steadily, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Heavy-lidded eyes locked onto mine. Blue-gray, they were the same shade of the sky in the eye of storm, and held the same intensity beneath that calm façade, the pressure and fury shimmering there, impossible to ignore.

This. This was what it felt like to be desired. Raw. Unadulterated. Potent. As thick as honey, it coated me, sinking through my skin, breaking down all defenses. It touched and laid claim to me in ways that no fingers ever could. Desire stirred restlessly in my belly. Hot, it coiled, flexed, making my chest tight and my mind a mess. It left me deliciously vulnerable, shaken.

The lights flashed about us, the shadows along the contours of his form changing ever so subtly with each flare, yet his gaze remained fixed on mine. He stirred, his movements lazy. But there was something hungry and fierce in the tense lines of his muscles that both fascinated and scared me.

I licked my lips, dry from my breaths. His eyes followed the movements of my tongue, the flick over my upper lip and sweep over my lower. “Um.” My voice came out an octave higher. “Are we almost done?”

Without looking, I could feel Quinn moving behind us, steps quick, rapid, his breaths fast.

Lukas let his hand fall behind his head, resting against it. He shifted with a sigh, his back arching with his stretch. “You know better than to expect an answer when he’s like that.” Thick, ragged, his voice rumbled in a wicked cadence.

Actually, I didn’t. I’d always been an observer. Being involved was a drastically different feeling. I was caught in that web that I’d seen earlier between the two of them, the air humming with their concentration and focus. And being between them- It was like getting caught in a tempest, nowhere to hide, the water seeping past the clothes and skins until it was swimming in the marrows of your bones.

“Comfortable?”

I leaned my head against the bedpost. “No. But you are.”

“Mm-hmm.” A lean-muscled arm drafted across his stomach. “You can always join me here if you want.”

“Do you-” I broke off as the lights flashed about us again. “Do you really enjoy being photographed that much?”

Oh god.

I’d always been the articulate one. Cleaning up after Quinn’s mess made it a necessary skill, but something about the man had always had the ability to reduce me to a babbling idiot. Still, even this was beyond my usual blunders.

An eyebrow arched. “Photographed?” He glanced downward. I flushed, my pulse quickened. His gaze unabashed, he returned his attention to my face. The corner of his quirked ever so slightly. “Seems so, doesn’t it?”

“It’s…” I fumbled with the words. They slipped between my fingers, impossible for me to catch. “Oh?”

He made that purr-like murmur again as he tilted his head back, his neck arching in a gentle slope. “Mm-hmm. I can show you.”

My throat grew dry. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

I yelped when warm hands settled on my hips, molding into the curve of my waist. “Go to him, Cameron.” Low, leveled, the words were more a command than a suggestion.

His nudge sent me stumbling forward, my thighs hitting the edge of the bed. I tumbled onto the cool sheets, the force of the fall knocking the wind out of my lungs.

“I suppose I should say something about women falling over me, shouldn’t I?” Lukas caught me about my wrists and pulled me up against him. The sheets bunched up against my legs, dragging my shirt up and my jeans to hang low on my hips.

Every nerve in my body sparked, sizzled. They made me terribly aware of his body beneath mine, the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the way his fingers skimmed along my stomach. I drew in a shaky breath as his nails ghosted over my skin, pressing down just hard enough to mark me. “That’s too clichéd. Even for you, Lukas.”

A small squeak escaped from me. His teeth caught my earlobe again, the canine point grazing the fleshy part. “Even for me?” Hot, moist air brushed against my cheek. The growl of his voice coaxed heat in the bottom of my belly into a full roar. Breath-hitching in my throat, I clutched onto his arm, struggling to anchor myself, to stop from pitching headfirst over the edge. “Play nice, Cam. I might return the favor.”

His hips ground against me, making sure there wasn’t any ambiguity in what he meant by favor, as did the undeniably present erection pressed against my back. The fabric of the slacks slid against me, the metallic teeth of the zipper gliding against the ridges of my spine. Sparks of pain prickled my skin, darted up my back. His hand closed about my wrists, trapping them against my belly.

I squirmed. I couldn’t help it. Not when I could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of my jeans. But I would’ve done it anyway if I knew it would draw that little gasp from him. It emboldened me enough to answer him. “Don’t I always?”

“Never. Your manners are almost as bad as Quinn’s at best.” His fingers pressed hard against my jaw, tilting my head up. He leaned down, the curls of his hair brushed against my neck, tickling me. “Now I did say that I would show you. Look up, Cam.”

The lights flashed again.

I’d forgotten entirely about Quinn and his camera.

The glare of the single lenses pinned me against Lukas. Scrutinizing, it felt different than what had been in Lukas’s, but no less potent. My skin prickled beneath the unhurried, cool examination.

The glass gaze swept over me. I held my breath, goosebumps rising over my arms as it searched my body.

It was heady, being cornered, captured, and objectified. The lenses narrowed and magnified all of Quinn’s energy and focus. A primal satisfaction surged in me with the knowledge that in that moment, I was his world and, in his eyes, nothing else this world of mine existed.

And nothing else existed for me either. He might be the one kneeling at the foot of the bed, but he was also the one orchestrating everything. I saw and felt him through the lenses knew, without thinking, that he was toying with me. His movements no longer innocent, every step, every change demanded something new from me. All of which I gave freely, involuntarily.

Not that I could do anything to stop myself. He was pulling something from me that I couldn’t quite finger nor word- Something rich, dark, complementing the sudden waves of desire cascading over me, winding down and nestling between my legs.

My muscles there fluttered and flex. “Oh.” The sound slipped from me in a sigh.

“Mm-hmm. Oh.” I shivered as his tongue curled against the cup of my ear. “Like it? You should. This is your corruption, you know. This is what you’d introduced me to.”

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