The Mist and the Lightning. Part 15. Ви Корс
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does it come from?” Kors asked. “I noticed it a long time ago, and you didn’t have this scar before.”
“I got burned being drunk,” Arel answered.
“How was it to be contrived, Arel?”
“I lit from a fireplace poker.”
Kors tried to grasp his thoughts at this moment, and really “saw” a red-hot, curved tip of a small fireplace poker in the prince’s hand. The vision was very blurry and short-lived. Kors didn’t catch either the pain of the burn or any motives explaining Arel’s act. It looked like he was really drunk.
“You ruined such beautiful skin, what a fool!” Said Kors regretfully, removing his fingers from the burn, moving his hand lower, caressing Arel’s cock, and seeing how pleased the prince was. He rubbed his cock on him and gently stroked, slightly jerking off both heads at once, pressing them as close as possible to each other. He pushed Arel down, guiding and spreading his knees bent, sitting on his face.
Arel understood everything.
“Stronger! Deeper! A-a-a!”
Kors shifted slightly and suddenly thrust his cock right into the gap in Arel’s lip, from the outside and further into his mouth. It seemed to him so exciting that he immediately got an orgasm again, it was only necessary to rub his cock a little in the slit back and forth. He immediately, while the hole was wet and slippery, pushed the plug back in, and it even went in somehow easily. Kors didn’t expect it.
“It seems I stretched this hole for him,” thought Kors, “it looks like the Demon will not kill you, Arel, but me, for everything I have done here”. And he, turning to Arel, said:
“Wash your face and rinse your mouth.”
Arel leaned over to the edge of the pool and, scooping up water with his hands, washed his cum off his lips and chin.
They returned to the room and went to bed. Kors saw that Arel’s cock was erect, but he understood that he couldn’t get relief no matter how he tried, and it was very offensive. Arel experienced pleasant sensations, he answered Kors, but couldn’t come. Burying his face in the pillows, Arel lay on his stomach, pressing his cock to the bed. Kors really felt sorry for him, because he responded to all of Kors’ actions, gave him pleasure, did everything, and Kors wanted to thank him, but didn’t know how. He squeezed Arel’s buttocks with his hands, pushing them apart, inserting his cock again, feeling as from his thrusts Arel only began to rub his cock back and forth in a useless attempt to relieve tension. And Kors suddenly tried to do as he had heard many times, Nikto did – clearly in his thoughts he pronounced as a command:
“I allow you to come!”
So thought Kors, and Arel screamed and trembled under him, choking and swallowing air. Kors recoiled. And Arel, jumping up, also grabbed his still throbbing cock with his hands and involuntarily lifted his face approximately towards Kors, although he couldn’t see him.
“How can it be?” He whispered. “How can you order me?!”
“It turns out that I can,” Kors answered a little dumbfounded, but happily.
Arel shook his head in confusion:
“Your voices are very similar. I noticed this long ago, your voice… it is the same as his, only yours is not crippled. But in his mind he speaks better.”
“His voice is the same as mine,” corrected Kors. “It was inherited by my son, and the Demon uses it. And yes, you're right, his thoughts are not so husky.”
The fact that Arel was in his hands, that Arel heard him and came from him, all this filled Kors with some indescribable pride. Which of us will become a Demon even faster, he thought.
And Arel threw up his head:
“Do you want to become a Demon?” He chuckled.
“Do you continue to hear me?!”
“Yes.”
“You've evolved! And I helped you with this. No, it looks like the Demon won't kill us. What do you know about my Mission?”
“Nothing.”
“Although yes, what can you know, you don’t really hear anything.”
Arel shook his head in understanding.
“Forgive me, prince, I didn’t mean to humiliate you.”
“Humiliate?”
“I used to think that my Mission was related to the Upper City. He wants to make Alis the king of the red, and he will make me the king of the black. But now I began to doubt it. Maybe he will make you king? Royal blood flows in your veins, mine doesn’t.”
I don't want to be king.”
“As if someone asks you!”
“He won't make me king. He will take revenge on Leonardo and smash the Black City to hell, just as he smashed the Western Limit of the unclean and the Slave Farm before. Here's what he'll do.”
“And I? What is my role then? I cannot become a king, I am not a descendant of a royal family, like you…”
“It doesn't matter, Lis will become king, and he is a commoner.”
“No. His red father is far from a commoner, and we don’t know what they have there, maybe he belongs to the royal family, how do we know. And Alis is like Prince Ariel Riel. And even if not, everything is different with the reds, they don’t observe so strictly the purity of blood, there are many of them, and in fact, the king of the reds in the Black World is just a governor. The True King of the reds is above. Alis will make a coup and become simply the governor of the king in our world, which the reds use as their raw material base. It is quite possible that the status of the governor of the colony doesn’t require royal blood.”
“Lis will close the Portals and will not obey anyone.”
“Well, of course! Well, if I don't become king, maybe then I will become a Demon too?”
Arel only grunted skeptically.
“Why? I stand above you in the hierarchy created by the Demon. I am the ring finger, I am a noble warrior, and you are a slave.”
“The ring finger is the weakest and most useless of the five. You can't even move it properly,” said Arel.
“I am the father of his body!”
“Oh well…”
“Why are you discounting me, Arel? Yes, my family is not royal, but also ancient. My ancestors observed the purity of blood.”
“So you are also a black sheep in the flock?”
Kors bowed his head.
“It turns out that so… but… I can still marry a noble black, and unlike you, I can have children. Noble descendants. I am still able to continue my race!”
“Kors, do you have a drink?” Arel asked. “Give me some wine.”
Kors woke up, embracing Arel, he glanced at the clock, it showed at about nine in the morning, the pillar candles were ate glowing on massive racks, pouring wax onto the floor, the room was dark and stuffy. Since in the world of Nikto there was no space, sky, celestial bodies and, accordingly, there was no need for windows, Kors had to navigate in time exclusively by the clock. He felt a slight hangover, a pendulum, and all night through his sleep he heard that somewhere nearby, with an anguish, a dog howled loudly and protractedly.
Arel also stirred, his black face and protruding lip depressing Kors. He gently stroked his head, through his silky hair, and, laying on his back, carefully peeled off the strips of plaster from his eyes and removed the gauze swabs:
“You see?”
Arel blinked often, his eyes with black whites were watering, but the eye that was implanted into Arel from the unclean looked at Kors quite meaningfully, the second was still defocused and looked past.
“I see a little with the eye of the unclean,” said Arel.
“This