The Mist and the Lightning. Part VI
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in the dust of the arena, violently clinging to each other. “Blacks…” The instinct of self-preservation doesn’t allow them to give up. They are warriors.
“Have mercy on them!” She finally turns to him, with a plea in her eyes and voice. “Send them to hard labor camp, but don’t force one of them to kill the other. They fought honestly, and are equal in strength!”
What is she hoping for? That in the prisoner camp they will wait for release. That “their people” will come to save them. There can be no more stupidity! “Blacks” will never recapture lost positions. And those who were captured are doomed. What's the difference? Die now, or slowly and painfully rot in hard labor.
He signs, and both captives leave the arena alive. In a burst of gratitude, she snuggles up to him, hugging:
“Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!”
He stands, barely holding back such a stupid and inappropriate victorious grin now, with outward indifference accepting her grateful tenderness. And when she easily blows in his ear, dodges with made discontent:
“What a silly habit!”
In response, she smiles ingratiatingly, expecting him to smile too. Now he will tumble her down right here on the balcony, and he doesn’t give a damn that she will be lying rigidly flat on stone slabs. And she will understand how much he really loves her. No.
And he turns around to leave. He gives out some instructions to his advisers, completely ignoring her, while constantly backing and sensing her presence, knowing that she is nearby and obediently following him.
The warriors will be hanged that evening. However, she will not know about it. She is never interested in the further fate of the “pardoned”.
His thoughts rush about in his head like birds in a cage.
She would never have stabbed Arel! Everyone likes Arel! Everyone chooses Arel… And Nikto too … Oh! Just not that!
“Come here. Do this. Maybe you will feel better if you fuck me. Your headache…”
No! Don’t think about it! Don’t think at all!
“You smell like a grave… No, really, nobody told you before? Arel didn't tell you? No! Actually, it’s good, not a grave, I put it badly, it is the earth, damp earth, as if you went down to the cellar, it smells the same…”
And it seems to Lis that Nikto thinks for a minute and then agrees:
“Strange, I never thought about it, but after all I lived half my life underground… But, it’s better not to mess with my past. Stop stirring up my past…”
And Nikto bends over him …
“Don’t mess with my past. Stop stirring up my past…”
And Lis doesn’t notice how he unconsciously clutches his ear, covering it with his palm.
He timidly runs his hand over the tattooed hip. He feels irregularities, slight bulges of the picture, where the skin was apparently pierced deeper than necessary. Or such barely perceptible bulges are formed when the paint for some reason “comes out” and you have to pass this place several times with a needle. Or maybe just in these areas, healing somehow happened incorrectly and something similar to traces of scars formed. Lis understands this a little, however, he knows, he heard from someone that if the tattoo is convex, it means that it was
made incorrectly. Too rough and deep. Or if the tattoo is blurry, it means it was made incorrectly, the paint was hammered into the fat layer. Or both are true. Or maybe it should be so? There is no point in this reasoning. It’s just that Lis feels slight bumps under his fingers and he
likes it. He damn likes it! He feels such an easy languor and desire, as there… then… in the extreme limit. As if from Nikto’s some kind of attracting waves emanate. Lis has already fucked him, just now. Fast, probably even aggressive. Without any preludes and sentiments. And nothing prevents him from getting up and leaving now. But he is not leaving. Instead, he continues to lie nearby and strokes, strokes this painted body. Nikto doesn’t move and says nothing. He made no sound at all for the time that their “love” lasted. Interestingly, does he groan under Arel?
“Say something,” Lis asks mentally, “say you are not kidding me!”
“How's your head? Doesn't hurt anymore?” Suddenly says Nikto and turns to Lis. And Lis is ready to bet that mischievous sparks are dancing in his bright eyes. The face is a motionless mask, and the eyes are alive and they laugh. Damn him! Lis’ throat intercepts with indignation, but
he doesn’t want to quarrel now, he himself doesn’t understand why. And he listens to his feelings. And negatively shakes his head:
“No. It no longer hurts.”
It no longer hurts, so why the hell is he not leaving! And what kind of nonsense is all this?! Did he come here for some pill against headache?! He came to sort it out, talk, find out in the end! Only now he least of all wants to find out something, to understand something. He wants… Damn! He wants to touch this body, this skin, these lips…”
Why did he do that! Yes, he was simply mad when he embraced this white-haired monster and nevertheless kissed him. He dug into this lying
mouth with his lips. And Nikto answered him. Their kiss… This weakness… He showed his feelings, revealed himself as a boy and in front of whom?!
In front of that man who didn’t care at all, who was simply having fun, he whiled away the time between doses, watching the reactions of funny confused Lis.
“Lis, leave this to Arel! Madness is not your cup of tea, it doesn’t suit you!”
“It looks poorly! Lis!”
“You tremble like a leaf in the wind, you are afraid!”
“Because you yourself don’t understand what you are doing, and this is funny, Lis who doesn’t understand what he is doing…”
Yes, that evening Lis could argue with Arel about which of them was worse.
But in those moments when their lips touched, Lis realized that he would break and do for Nikto more than just fuck him. And that he will let Nikto do something more. He remembered how he literally rolled out of bed.
Wine! Urgently drink wine and get distracted! All around lay bottles with only sweet wine, as Arel liked.