“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!”
