Clean Cut

Discussion
Part Three

*bump bump*

Clive stalked toward the front door, calling, "If someone is KICKING my front door they had BETTER be a double amputee!"

He opened the door to find Trenton smiling sheepishly and holding two large foil wrapped plates. "Will you have mercy on a healthy boy who has been loaded down with goodies by a generous, eccentric old Hungarian lady?"

"Did you wear rubber soled shoes?" Trenton nodded, balancing on one foot to show him his tennis shoes. "Forgiven." He let Trenton in. "What delicacies has the delightful little Hungarian paprika pot piled upon you now, pet?"

Trenton entered and put the plates on the dining table. He pointed. "Orange-pecan balls and marshmallow fudge."

Clive groaned as he peeled the foil back and gazed at the food. "Oh, dear. Well, one more trip to the gym this week in penance, I suppose." He picked up one powdered sugar covered ball and bit into it, moaning happily at the citrusy-sweet burst of flavor.

"Yip?" He looked to see Trenton, dangling his hands in front of him in the classic pose of a dog begging. At Clive's look he flapped his hands loosely and let his tongue loll out. "Whine?" Smiling, Clive popped the other half of cookie into Trenton's mouth, then held still as Trenton industriously licked the sugar from his fingers.

After giving his lover's head a brief rub Clive went back toward the living room, saying, "Bring some of that fudge, pet." Trenton got a paper towel and chose several pieces of candy, then joined Clive on the sofa. They took a while, trading off feeding each other, enjoying the intimate play as much, or more, than the luscious sweetness. Clive loved this as much as Trenton did, but he seldom did it in public. Some people just weren't very understanding, and he felt inclined to get in their faces when they made disapproving noises about what he chose to do with his lover. He preferred not to have Trenton upset.

Finally they were done with the sweets, and Clive pulled Trenton over onto his lap. "So, tell me, how are things in Glocamoraugh?"

When Trenton had come to Attitudes that afternoon, things had been frantic. The shop had been booked heavily, two of Clive's frienad cad come to him in tears. There was a drag queen ball on that night, and the scheduled hairdresser for Louis (or Louise), the femme of the pair, had airily cancelled hi/r appointment. When they had protested the man had snippily told the femme to 'just wear a wig. It's not like it makes THAT much difference'.

When he could see straight again an outraged Clive (muttering darkly about having a discussion with 'certain people' about professionalism) had seen the weeping Louis/e into his private station (this time leaving the door open, since this was a committed couple). He'd had Trenton bring nerve soothing Irish coffees for the pair, then proceded to outdo himself once again.

Clive had coaxed the delicate young man into trying 'just a TINY bit of a weave. Usually I don't recommend this, darling, but you're spectacular enough to carry it off'. Wash, conditioner, trim, tint, weave, style, and Clive had finally called a nervous Clarence in to view his creation. The patrons and cosmetologists had all looked at each other when they heard the scream. A moment later the delighted couple had walked out arm in arm, the smaller of the duo wearing a shimmering copper colored hairdo that Scribe would have described as 'Veronica Lake-ish'--a thick, waving fall half hiding one eye.

The salon had applauded, and the now beaming young man (looking remarkably like a pretty, albeit flat chested, young woman, even in his masculine street clothes), had dropped a delicate curtsy before his proud mate had swept him off. Clive had called after them, "Clarence, YOU be the giving sort if you do anything before you go to the ball. I will have a FIT if you grab and pull thair air before it makes its debut." Clarence had blushed, but Louis/e had giggled happily.

Trenton stayed long enough to see the finished effort, but then he had to hurry home, since he'd promised his mother he'd cook dinner, as she was working late. Thus the two lovers had scarcely exchanged a word from Trenton's arrival to his departure.

Trenton contentedly rested his head on Clive's shoulder and began to tell him about his day. His English paper had kicked butt, he'd done better than he had expected on his math exam. He eyed Clive with a touch of waryness. "An 89."

Instead of scolding him for not getting that extra point to make it an A, Clive had given him a proud, congratulatory kiss. "You see, lamb? I told you that extra study you grumbled so much about would help. How was your morning workout?"

"Great! I enjoy pairing with Bryant. He's good--he really makes me stretch myself. I don't know why Coach Lowell always gives him so much grief."

"Perhaps he just wants him to be the best he can be, pet."

"You want that for me, but you don't ever make me feel like I'm a lazy idiot. I mean, he's no cheerleader for ANY of us, but with Bryant he's fucking HARSH."

"Language."

"Sorry, but it's true."

"True or not, you need to watch the obscenities..." he stroked Trenton's cheek, "unless we're playing. Remember, pet, if you sprinkle them through your conversation as freely as a bakessessses sesame seeds on a bun, they lose whatever effect they might have. So, Coach Lowell is harder on Bryant than the rest of you. Some coaches use that method with their best athletes."

"But Bryant isn't the best. Oh, he's GOOD, and he works hard, but he's third at best. Marshall Bloom is best, and I" he wiggled his eyebrows, "am second best."

Clive gave him a deeper kiss. "Only in the matter of split seconds while dripping wet, my dear."

Trenton wiggled happily, but then sighed. "I can't stay long. Marshall is coming over to my place so we can work on our scene for drama. We have to write it AND perform it."

"Oooo, a SCENE!" When Trenton rolled his eyes, Clive chuckled and hugged him. "Yes, pet, I know--not OUR sort of scene. I suppose that would be a bit much for the freshmen. What's this scene going to be about?"

"They didn't give us any real specifics. Just that it had to be longer than five minutes, less than ten, and while it could have a funny moment or two, it couldn't be a comedy sketch, and it should contain strong emotions and have some sort of ending instead of just trailing off."

"You should be a natural for this, Trent. You're always so creative when we do our scenes. Do you have any ideas yet?"

"Some, but I'll have to talk with Marshall. I'm not gonna try to bulldoze him."

"Of course you won't." Clive started stroking Trent's fly slowly. "You're not the bulldozing sort, are you, my little subbie?" Trenton just smiled, leaning back so that he was lying across Clive's lap instead of sitting on it. Clive laughed. "Sometimes I think you channel the spirit of a cat, Trent. You just go boneless..." he rubbed harder, and Trent's breathing speeded up, "except where it counts. No, you don't shove, you coax and wheedle, and lead gently." He reached deeper between Trenton's spread legs and kneaded, massaging his balls.

Trenton moaned happily, basking in the firm, masterful touch of his Dom. Yes, Clive was right--Trent had no desire to lead--he was a devoted follower. But that might be because he had CHOSEN his leader, and trusted Clive to never take him anywhere he wouldn't be delighted to be.

"Close your eyes, lamb." Trenton obeyed, and felt Clive begin to unbuckle his belt. "Now, tell me what you're thinking of for your scene?"

Trenton felt anticipation mixed with the tiniest bit of dread. He knew now that this was going to be one of the sessions where he was required to continue acting in as normal a manner as possible, no matter what Clive did to him. He loved it, as he did everything Clive did to him (aside from a few SERIOUS spankings when he pulled a major transgression), but it wasn't easy. It required a lot of concentration not to descend into incoherence when Clive really went to work on him.

"I was thinking maybe we could do a police interrogation scene, but I'm not sure..." he didn't let his voice waver as Clive opened the snap on his jeans and pulled down the zipper, "if I could handle being either a hostile crook or a tough cop. Maybe a worried, weaselly crook." Clive had slipped his hand into the gap he'd formed, and was stroking the growing mound of Trenton's erection through the thin cotton of his boxers. "Or I was thinking of a job interview between two people who had a bad history." Clive's hand slipped inside his comfort slit and closed around his cock. He stopped moving--just holding Trenton's fast swelling cock.

Trenton resisted the urge to push up into his grip--that might end the session. "You know? Maybe they went to school together, and the guy applying was a BMOC, and the interviewer was one of the stepped on geeks. Maybe the job hunter stole the interviewer's girl at some point." Clive's hand started to move. Trenton's breath hitched, but he kept on. "So now the interviewer has the upper hand, and he's making the other guy sweat, and the guy needs the job so badly he feels like he has to put up with it."

Clive worked Trenton's cock through the comfort slit in his underwear and took a moment to admire it. Trenton had such a beautiful prick. He was a 'grower'--his size changed significantly when he was aroused. When Trent was soft he was not much longer than Clive's palm, but when he was aroused he was almost nine glorious inches from base to tip. *I will most definitely have to give the little love a demonstration of 'topping from the bottom' soon. I think he'll be surprised to learn that he can have his cock in my ass, but I'LL still be fucking HIM.* Clive began to jerk Trent off briskly. "That has marvelous possibilities."

"Yeah." It was almost a pant. Trenton arched his back slightly, lifting his pelvis pleadingly. Clive granted the unspoken request by digging Trenton's balls out of his pants with his free hand, gently rolling and squeezing them as he masturbated the boy. "Bryant audits that class."

*Mm, so Bryant is on YOUR mind, too, is he?* "Yes?"

"Yeah. He comes in most days and sits in the back. He even takes notes, but I know he isn't on the roll. He really seems interested."

"Marvelous." Clive smiled as a clear bead of pre-ejaculate oozed out of Trent's pee slit to quiver atop the boy's cockhead. Clive paused and touched one fingertip to it, then spread it over the the flushed knob. Trenton moaned, and he stopped, saying with gentle warning, "You have something to say, pet?"

"I... I wish he WAS taking the class. There are times when he looks like he wants to say something, and I'd like to hear it." To his infinite relief Clive continued his manipulations, rubbing and pinching gently, spreading the slippery fluid gradually down his shaft. "You know how some people are quiet, and you know it's because they don't have anything to say? Well, with Bryant I get the idea that he's just BOILING with things to say, but for some reason he doesn't."

"Mm." Clive speeded up his movements, jerking Trenton hard and fast. He touched Trent's cheek, signalling the boy that he could move, and immediately Trenton began thrusting strongly into his grip. "Sort of like a river in winter--a smooth surface of ice, but things running hell for leather underneath."

"Yes," Trent panted. "But the ice metaphor isn't quite right--he isn't cold. I don't care about the snow hair, he isn't cold. Not after the way he was looking at me in the shower."

"Oh, ho. Were you teasing him, Trent?" Trenton shook his head, eyes still closed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"But you WANTED to, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, but I wouldn't do something like that without discussing it with you first."

"Good boy. You deserve a reward for resisting that temptation." Clive dipped his head, and Trenton tried to muffle his cry as he felt Clive's velvety tongue swirl over his glans. Apparently he was allowed to make noise now, because Clive didn't stop. He gripped Trenton's dick and licked it like a child with a particularly delicious popsicle. When he took the head in his mouth and began to push down on it, sliding the length deeper and deeper, Trenton went not so quietly crazy.

Clive would have smiled if his mouth hadn't been full. As it was he used both hands to pin Trenton's hips and devoured his submissive, happy that he'd long ago learned the technique that allowed him to take Trenton's generously sized prick all the way down his throat. Soon he felt the boy's balls draw up tight. He pulled off, removing a handkeef fef from his pocket, and brought Trenton to climax with another few hard strokes, catching the hot gush of sperm neatly in the cloth. As Trent recovered, trembling gently, Clive used the kerchief to wipe the boy clean, then 'put the toy away', closing his pants again.

Clive pulled Trenton back up into a sitting position and finger combed his young lover's curls back into some semblence of order. Trenton put his arms around Clive's neck, resting his forehead against Clive's, and said, "You?"

Clive patted him, then urged him to stand up. "Not this time, love. This was for you. Why don't you speak to Bryant and see if he'd be interested in working with you on your drama assingments? I know that sometimes it's difficult for you students to co-ordinate your schedules."

"Yeah, especially since I'm studying at Attitudes, and Marshall has a part time job. And I know Bryant does good in math. Since he's ahead of me in courses, maybe I could talk him into tutoring me."

"Excellent idea. Now, wait a me whe while I wrap up some of those goodies for you to take home. The less that is here, the less I will eat, the less time I have to spend working it off. I'll want to send enough for you, Marshall, AND Lynette. Mrs. Havasnark will be overjoyed to find out that she's feeding not only another young man, but also your mother. She hasn't forgotten that you and Lynette adopted one of her kittens. How is the furball, by the way?"

Trenton watched as Clive filled a small container with treats. "Poochy is doing great. He stopped spraying the furniture, so Mom is letting him keep his equipment."

"Good. I can't help but feel a wince of sympathy every time I see one of Mrs. Havasnark's 'retired' tom cats. She's still trying to figure out HOW her last little princess got preggers, since ALL her babies are supposed to be fixed. Either there's an opening somewhere in the building I'm not aware of, or it was a virgin birth, a tiny star appeared over my house, and the cat messiah has been born." He handed the box to Trenton. "I'd say stay on Poochy's good side, just in case."

He walked Trenton to the door. Trenton hesitated as he was going out, saying, "So, would it be all right if I brought Bryant to Attitudes, or maybe over here to, listudstudy--maybe use the computer? I've seen him waiting in line to get on one of the computers at the uni-library."

"That would be fine, pet." He tousled Trenton's hair again, before brushing it back into place. "I trust you not to get up to anything you shouldn't while you're here."

After a final kiss Trenton made his way downstairs and out onto the street. As he walked to the bus stop he thought *And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Trust. I trust Clive, he trusts me. I wonder,* he thought as he stepped up into the bus. *I wonder who Bryant trusts?*