The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

“What’s the problem asking for another trestle bed?” Kors thought, looking at Nik, who was sleeping in clothes and not covered by anything. “He doesn’t need anything, he is an animal. But hell, even animals like to sleep on soft stuff!”

Kors left the tent. It was very early, the rain had stopped, but apparently not for long, and the sky was still covered with low gray clouds. A damp, refreshing coolness enveloped Kors, clearing his head of an unpleasant dream. He mentally called Adrian and ordered him to bring a bucket of water. He tried to put himself in order, washed his face and comb his hair. Nobody bothered him or called him. In this pre-dawn hour, the unclean ones were sleeping, and there was dead silence in the camp, not even the snorting of horses was heard. Kors looked bitterly at his face in a small mirror. The eye was completely swollen, hidden by a maroon hematoma, and the right cheek was swollen and swollen. Kors was swollen and squint-eyed. “Thank you, Prince Arel!”

With a heavy heart, Kors returned to the tent and began to dress.

Apparently, having nevertheless heard the sound of fastened metal buckles and the rattling of weapons, Nik woke up and raised his head:

“Where are you going?” He asked sleepily, staring in surprise at the fully ready Kors.

“I want to go check on the unclean ones given to me,” said Kors.

“Check them mentally,” drawled Nik, “or let Parky report to you.”

“I want to check myself, personally.”

“But your face is broken!”

“So what?” Kors snorted, shrugging indifferently. Oddly enough, but now he really didn’t care — just think! “In your environment, this is not something out of the ordinary,” he noted.

Nik paused, obviously digesting Kors’ last sentence, but still he was not so easily fooled:

“Then where are you going?” Nik sat on his skin, staring intently at his father, and his bright transparent eyes literally burned from the gap between the black bandages.

Kors felt uneasy:

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t lie! To Zaf’s?”

“I wanted to go to Zaf’s, but then I changed my mind,” Kors answered quickly as casually as possible, as if it were a meaningless trifle.

“No, you didn’t change your mind!” Nik raised his voice, and Arel, waking up, stretched lazily, stretching his arms up and yawning.

“Nik, I don’t understand your irritation…” Kors began, but Nik interrupted him rudely:

“You aren’t going anywhere! And even more so for Zaf!”

“Before, I didn’t let you go to the unclean ones, and now you don’t let me, what an irony,” Kors chuckled.

“I don’t forbid you to go to visit Zaf,” Nik immediately objected, slowing down his tone.

Kors couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he knew perfectly well that Nick was dissatisfied and annoyed.

And, confirming the correctness of his conclusions, Nik, nervously touching the ring hanging under his nose, literally blurted out:

“We’re breaking up the camp and leaving!”

“Nik, now?” Kors was stunned, not expecting this turn of events. “We just set it up last night, didn’t we?”

“So what? And now we’re leaving!”

“What kind of strange decisions?”

“We are far behind the people, we are leaving!”

“We’ve been riding with minimal stops lately. We are almost at the crossing and not much behind,” Kors tried to give some reasonable arguments.

“Now!”

“And it won’t hurt you to rest, lie down calmly. Endless shaking in the saddle doesn’t allow your wound to heal…”

“Vitor, shut up! That’s all! You ride next to me! Or should I chain you up?” Nik pointed pointedly at his belt, where a chain twisted in several turns hung:

“Do you want?”

“No,” said Kors obediently, “I’m right there, Nik.”

On the one hand, it pissed him off, but on the other… “What stupid things, dear Nik, you do to hide your jealousy”. Kors was flattered by this.

And Nik, despite the early time, seemed to no longer want to sleep at all. Sitting on his couch, he leaned his back against the wall, his legs widely apart and bent at the knees, as usual. He put his straightened arms on them, stretching them forward. From the wrist to the elbow, they were tightly wrapped in black bandages. Slightly tilting his head up, Nik looked at Kors standing in front of him in confusion, but he couldn’thelp but look at his crotch, so seductively covered in black leather pants. A little more, and the leather will burst, the seam will open. And how Kors wanted to put his hand there now! To press his palm to such a well-marked bulge. To apply a little pressure, but it’s better to take off those depraved pants that are too tightlyfitting his legs and ass, take them off and turn Nik back… and put his own hand between his thighs, behind him, grope for his balls and squeeze … Kors involuntarily swallowed. And Nik made some kind of short sobbing sound that was completely unusual for him, and quickly closed his legs. He clearly heard Kors, literally felt it, and he didn’t want to be the object of his endless sexual fantasies right then.