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“Whatever you want,” Nik responded immediately, “you are free in your manifestations”.
And Zaf was already unbuttoning his fly. Well, what else had Kors hoped for and counted on, if he himself allowed him in the Limit to do with him everything that Zaf wanted? And now it was not surprising that Zaf continued to consider him his. Kors wanted to refuse him, but how? After Kors crawled at his feet like an obedient slave, and after everything that took place in between? Of course, Zaf considered Kors his own, he was sure that Kors liked him, and there was mutual sympathy between them. Now he could take the refusal as an insult. And Kors didn’t want to aggravate relations with Zaf at all, so he went up to the unclean one and knelt in front of him, trying not to think about anything.
“I missed you,” said Zaf, taking out his decorated scion, “my beautiful greyhound, polish my diamond too…”
And Kors took his cock in his mouth and sucked Zaf, and he didn’t even imagine what it cost him. Zaf contentedly snuffled his disfigured nose and gently stroked Kors along the white strand, as before, being touched by its unusualness among the dark hair. Kors now hated that white strand of his because it attracted unclean ones so much. But when Zaf was already ready to come, he pushed Kors’ face aside and sprinkled cum on the carpet next to him, without staining Kors and not pouring into his mouth.
“Handsome black,” he said, carelessly patting Kors on the cheek, “why do I like you so much?”
And Kors thought that, not aggravating their relationship, he did the right thing.
“I’ll give you expensive jewelry,” Zaf continued, he looked very pleased.
“Zaf, I’m not a whore to pay me,” Kors replied, perhaps even too arrogantly and pretentiously, but he still hadn’t quite come to his senses, “I am free in my manifestations and do only what I myself want.”
“I know,” Zaf answered and laughed, and for some reason Kors didn’t like his laugh.
Chapter 8
“When would you want to go to the doctor, today or tomorrow?” Kors asked.
“Tomorrow,” Nik replied immediately.
Kors thought for a moment.
“No. You know, I thought we were going to the doctor today. This will be better.”
Nik froze in some confusion, and Kors added:
“I have made this decision.”
“Why are you asking me then?”
“Silence! I know what is best.”
And Nik said nothing.
Kors tormented Nik for a long time. He took him to the bathroom and washed him, because no matter how much he did it, Nik still seemed dirty to him, and, as Kors believed, he smelled like unclean ones. He poured water on him endlessly. He didn’t like the way the scar looked – it seemed that the crack on his Nik’s cheek was clogged with dirt, and Kors kept rubbing and rubbing his face with a washcloth, lathered with soap, until his cheek noticeably reddened. He washed and dried his hair again, and Nick probably hadn’t washed his hair as many times in his entire life as Kors had washed it for him lately. Carefully combing the tangled strands, Kors made Nik a tail “like black ones wear” and pi
“You don’t understand, Nik, how much I love you!” He said with inspiration in his voice. “After all, love is not only sex. Love is also tenderness and care, compassion for the feelings of a loved one and a desire to support him in everything.”
“Vitor, will I go without a mask?” Nik asked, seeing that Kors put it aside.
“Yes.”
“Then I need black glasses, it’s too light outside.”
“No.”
“Vi…”
“I said, no! That’s the limit! It’s ugly, shameful and doesn’t suit you!” Snapped Kors.
“But it’s hard for me without them,” Nik tried to argue, “from the bright sun my eyes hurt later. I have altered eyes…”
“Shut up, I don’t even want to listen to it!”
“To me sunlight is as if hot sand is thrown into my eyes. Then it hurts for a long time, and I can’t see well…”
“It’s not su
Nik fell silent in frustration, and Kors scrutinized him for the hundredth time.
“If not for this damn scar, now everything would be fine!”
“I…” Nik hesitated, crouched, lowering his eyes, the corners of his lips involuntarily crawled down, and a slightly swollen lower lip protruded forward amusingly, and Kors was invariably touched by this display of frustration: how cute, according to Kors, Nik pouted. Therefore, unable to restrain himself, Kors involuntarily laughed, this laugh forcing Nik to make a sad grimace even more.
Continuing to watch his son so sincerely upset, Kors swallowed as if he had swallowed something pleasant to him, tasty:
“Gods, how fu
Hanging over him, Kors grabbed him by the face with his free hand, squeezing him tightly, digging his nails into his cheeks so that Nik’s lips protruded ugly forward.