Seth by Nero Seal

Seth stood with his armsfolded over his chest and the sole of his foot pressed against the wall. The mixture of scents condensed the air: leather, sweat, sex, perfume, and antiseptic, all so common for a BDSM club. Tonight was busier than ever; even the soft-drink bar that most of the days stood half-empty now had no available seats. The squeaking of leather rubbing against leather hung in the air as people brushed against each other.

Men of all kinds and ages gathered here to explore themselves and one another. Unlike them, Seth wasn’t here to explore. He needed a willing prey to drain his hatred, to accept and consume his rage, to reset his mind and settle his emotions.

His attention bounced off faces before stumbling over a flock of uncollared submissives, ball gags hanging from the necks of some of them. He knew them all, except for one. He peered into the fresh face, examined dark curls, big, muddy-green eyes. The boy blushed under his attention, and Seth realized it was one of his first visits to a place like this. His interest in him withered. It had always been hard to play with people who didn’t know him, nearly impossible with someone inexperienced. And today, he needed all the experience he could get.

He scrutinized the crowd looking for someone strong, trained, easy. Someone who could share his darkness, help him drain it. Someone who craved the pain he was ready to offer.

The blue, green, and yellow lights splashed over the room, glinting against leather and latex. Moans and slapping sounds, drifting from upstairs, informed him that people had already begun their scenes, yet Seth didn’t have a partner yet. His usual choices didn’t appeal today as all the boys he used to play with seemed too frail, too breakable.

Ungluing from the wall, he drifted past the bar. On the other side, tables for two lined up along the brick wall, shackles hanging from embedded iron rings above each. He passed a couple; a muscular submissive had his hands cuffed above his head as a slender dom laughed and fed him from a baby bottle with a sticky, whitish liquid that looked like cum or egg white. The submissive gulped with effort amusing his dom further. A pang of jealousy bolted through Seth as he realized this sub would be perfect. With his black eyes and dark hair parted on the side and brushed away from his face, he resembled Gustavo.

Breaking someone like him would feel good, maybe too good.

A fervid fantasy of a bloody back, torn skin, watery eyes filled Seth’s head, too appealing to resist hence the most dangerous. With effort, Seth looked away and turned to the socializing area. A lonely figure occupied the last table.

As if sensing his interest, the boy lifted his head. Their eyes met. Haunting, longing, restless, Ignaz’s gaze begged for something. The pool of darkness in the pit of Seth’s stomach swirled.

Now you look at me again, huh?

The slight irritation and the promise the pain slut offered inched him closer, yet Seth wavered. Ignaz was a bad choice for many reasons. He looked innocent and pure, frail and breakable, hence appealing, exactly the type Seth preferred. But he’d already known Ignaz wasn’t the one. All his chosen ones were bright, almost blinding to look at. Like small suns they emitted golden light that always attracted Seth, promising him the warmth he’d never known.

Unlike them, Ignaz was shadowed, and in the darkness resonating in this boy, he saw glimpses of himself. They were alike yet disparate. Just like Seth, Ignaz was engaged with Death but in a different way. It cocooned him in an almost visible cloak. Whenever he saw Ignaz in a scene, the acute knowledge penetrated Seth’s mind—where Death reigned, very little remained to harvest. Just like Seth, Ignaz didn’t like to be touched. Just like Seth, Ignaz didn’t engage in sex. Just like Seth, Ignaz limited most of his relationships to occasional scenes in the club.

Ignaz’s bruises had almost healed; just the yellowish skin remained around his eye. Maybe because of it, he was still alone tonight. He had lost weight since their last encounter, and now his pointy chin looked blade-sharp. Attachments hung from his white straitjacket; they jingled as he moved. His blue eyes feverishly glinted on the pale face accenting the mad look.

Seth knew he should overlook him. In his state of mind, the pain slut would be a terrible choice, too compelling to get carried away with, but something in Ignaz’s look paralyzed his will. It was the same irritating gaze that unsettled him during the last scene.

Seth had never played with Ignaz before, but he’d seen him play many times. The willingness to bleed, to hurt, both fascinated and disturbed him. The boy was in his early twenties, yet Seth remembered his back and thick, white scars hatching his skin. He had already been blacklisted from most BDSM clubs for not following safety protocols.

Seth knew he shouldn’t engage. They were bad chemistry. With Ignaz he wouldn’t be able to stop, yet he kept peering into the dead sea of the blue eyes, unblinking. Behind the dilated pupils, he saw emptiness, darkness, and the crystallized salt of unshed tears deep in his soul. This all looked too similar to his desert.

Seth’s skin crawled.

Walk away. Now.He isn’t the one. Instead, he stepped forward and made a faint motion with his chin, offering Ignaz to play.

Suppressing a small smile, the boy jumped to his feet and surged toward the locker room. He’d always played rough, and to avoid having infections, he only used his personal equipment. No warming up, no sex, no kissing, hugging, caressing, no skin-to-skin contact were Ignaz’s iron rules. Cold canning did it for him—the bloodier the better.

When Ignaz emerged carrying a long rattan cane, Seth nodded.

Under his scrutiny, a shiver ran down Ignaz’s body, prickling his naked legs, raising tiny, light hairs. A simple reaction that could have been caused by a draft muffled the already quiet voice of reason in Seth’s head.

With his fingers wrapped around the sharp elbow, Seth ushered the boy toward the playroom. Scrambling to catch up with his wide strides, Ignaz didn’t argue, didn’t pull back; his tall leather boots stomped, disagreeing with the beat of the trance music.

A few glances licked their backs but quickly lost interest, as everyone knew that Ignaz would go with anyone who promised him pain.

Skirting around the workshop area, they entered a dim corridor with doors on both sides, some closed, some invitingly opened. They passed them all, emerging into the familiar black chamber generously lit with spotlights. The upbeat music died as soon as Seth shut the door behind them.

Seth never liked playing in clubs. He didn’t like seeing his partners spread over furniture that had known many men, absorbed their body fluids. Even though it had been wiped clean after every usage, he still couldn’t shake off the deep-seated revulsion, the same one he experienced whenever he visited a public restroom, restaurant, or gym. The revulsion that had been gently cultivated in him by his late pedantic father.

He could have taken Ignaz home, but the darkness condensing in his chest threatened to overtake his mind. Here, surrounded by people, under the watchful scrutiny of CCTV, the chances of him getting carried away were slim. Here, he wouldn’t cause unnecessary damage.

He released Ignaz’s elbow and accepted the cane before lifting his chin to encourage the boy to pick the equipment. With a slow nod, Ignaz sauntered toward the spanking horse in the most secluded corner. He sprayed some antiseptic over the leather before wiping it with a paper towel.

The fittings and attachments of his straitjacket dangled around his legs. Seth noticed his sharp knees, blue veins standing out against the milky flesh of his thighs, and the signs of another man’s presence—yellow bruises above his knees.

When Ignaz straightened up, Seth forced his attention away from his legs and drifted closer. “Safeword?”

Confusion clouded Ignaz’s gaze for a split second before he asked, “Can’t I just ask you to stop?”

Seth froze, wondering how long the boy had watched him. It both relieved and concerned him. Seth always found it easier to accept a safeword than explain why he preferred not to use it. For him, a safeword created an illusion of a play where “no” and “stop” could mean “more” and “please”. They switched realities turning everything into a game with a pause button. Seth didn’t like games. They confused him. He didn’t like hearing “no” when it could mean “yes”. To him, “no” would always mean “stop”.

He rarely bothered to explain his preferences to one-time partners, so Ignaz’s question startled him. Seth’s chin moved down then up.

“Then I don’t need a safeword.” Once again, Seth stared into the dead sea of Ignaz’s blue eyes. The desert from his dreams held more life than Ignaz’s soul.

I should walk away. Only in math, did a negative multiplied by a negative equal a positive. In real life, it never had. Seth knew it, yet he couldn’t move. The open look, the expressed trust, the attention to details, the willingness to give up the control—everything in Ignaz attracted, entranced.

“Would you mind tying me?” Ignaz folded his arms in front of his chest and bent over the horse. His honey-blond hair, catching the light in every whorl, contrasted with black leather.

So pretty.Seth wanted to run his fingers through his hair, to feel the texture.

Worry crossed Ignaz’s beautiful face. “You don’t want to? I can—”

Seth shook his head and squeezed the cane between his arm and flank. The belts were softer than he expected when he carefully fastened them one by one. His fingers slowed as he moved down the waist, thinking that the straitjacket made Ignaz look pure, innocent, hence attractive.

After buckling up the last belt, Seth stepped away.

Ignaz fidgeted and cast a glance over his shoulder. “I forgot … my shorts. Would you mind? Please?”

Just one scene, nothing more.Keeping his face void of emotion, Seth lowered on a knee and rested the cane on his thigh as he waited for Ignaz to turn around. He unfastened the tiny shorts that barely peeked from under the straitjacket. The backs of his fingers brushed against the smooth, soft skin of Ignaz’s thighs when he pulled the shorts down along with the white stripe of his cotton trunks. Avoiding looking at the intimate area, Seth helped Ignaz step out of his garments, then straightened up, and put them on the stool behind the bench.

Ignaz’s legs trembled as he splayed his upper body over the bench and positioned his knees on the cushions at either side of it. Seth scrutinized the silvery scars crisscrossing the round globes of his ass. Some looked like they hadn’t only broken skin but also damaged muscles beneath. Seth wondered if Ignaz had wanted that damage, and if he expected the same kind of pain from him.

Seth stepped to his side; the end of the cane pressed across Ignaz’s buttocks. He waited, then waited some more. At the moment, Seth needed boundaries more than Ignaz did, as the darkness condensed in his chest.

What came instead washed him in endorphins and regret. “Don’t hold back. I’ll say when you can stop.”

I should have walked away. Seth closed his eyes and raised the cane in the air. Electricity sparked under his skin. He sensed Ignaz’s need and readiness, his thirst for pain, for blood. It resonated with his own. The desert of his soul hushed in anticipation. It waited for the first drop of blood to fall, to quench its thirst. The hairs on his arms bristled, and he had to fight back the impulse to strike. He licked his lips, his wrist flicking the cane around. He hadn’t experienced such a powerful urge in months, and now he wasn’t sure where it came from. The urgency in the air was almost palpable. Seth’s cheek flinched as he flicked the cane again, dissecting his emotion.

“Please…” Ignaz begged again, and the realization hit Seth. This craving wasn’t his but Ignaz’s. His focus shifted, settled on the feverish gaze. “Please…”

The plea worked like a command. Seth pressed the tip of the cane to the round globe, then drew back and struck. The cane zapped through the air and connected with the pale flesh. Ignaz yelped; his whole body tensed as he squirmed, trying to process the pain. When the second wave of sensation hit, he arched his back.

Seth waited, watching the imprint whiten, swell, then gradually turn red.

“More. Please,” Ignaz begged, but demanding notes rang in his voice.

Seth drew back and struck again, this time a little lower and stronger.

“Harder!” The demand mixed with a cry of pain.

Seth let go. The next strike broke Ignaz’s skin; the wound glistened, filling with blood. Light brows drew together as the blue eyes misted over. It felt as if Ignaz distanced himself from this reality and dove into another, one where Seth couldn’t follow. It didn’t look like subspace, but like escape where Seth was a mere tool to achieve the result. Seth instantly hated it, but it didn’t cool his need.

“More.”

He hit again, then again, watching the reddened ass glimmer with blood; the corners of his vision reddened.

Stop me,he thought, watching the boy bite his lips. Ignaz cried, and shimmering trails covered his reddened cheeks. Ask me to stop. Now.

“More.” A whimper, not a demand. “Harder.”

Seth struck again, the cane landing over a fresh wound, then he circled the bench. Ignaz’s shoulders shuddered, eyelashes clumped, nose ran, and a hiccupping sound filled the room. Anguish. Pain. Deep sitting torment. Seth read Ignaz’s emotions, looking for signs of pleasure, but only saw misery. It wasn’t a releasing cry after good canning. It was something entirely else, something Seth couldn’t comprehend.

“Enough,” he said and lowered the cane to a stool, then picked up the bottle of antiseptic and a clean towel before sinking on his knees behind Ignaz. Red streaks ran over the white terry-cloth towel as he carefully pressed the fabric to the welts. After treating the cuts, Seth got up.

Ignaz didn’t protest when he unfastened the belts but tensed when Seth ran his fingers over his shoulders, lifting him. The boy trembled, choking with tears. Usually, releasing tears washed Seth’s soul in euphoria, now he felt lost, empty, drained, and utterly lonely. There was something off in Ignaz’s reaction, and he couldn’t figure out what. His understanding of pain was too limited, and he barely knew Ignaz at all, except that the boy didn’t like aftercare. Still, for some reason, Ignaz didn’t reject his touch.

“Did you drive here?” Seth asked, his low voice almost lost in the room. Ignaz shook his head. “I’ll drive you home. Do you have clothes to change into?”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Where do you want to go then?”

“Can’t I stay with you?”

Seth swallowed, looking into the empty pools of Ignaz’s eyes, seeing nothing but salt crystals behind.

I should have walked away. Only in math did a negative multiplied by a negative equal a positive. In real world, when two black holes collided, one always consumed the other. Right now, Seth felt it more acutely than ever, yet he couldn’t walk away, as Ignaz had already caught him in his gravity field.

“Come.”

* * *

His phone ringingcrushed the glassy seclusion of the night. Gustavo pried his eyes open, blinked at the scattering of diamond stars hanging above the dome that looked like shards of glass from his dream. He tried to remember details of his vivid nightmare, but his phone chimed again.

“Turn it off.” An annoyed voice coming from his left dusted off the remains of his dream. He picked up the phone, pressed it to his ear, and slipped off the bed.

“Yes?”

“I have good news and bad news for you. Where do I begin?” Diego’s voice, annoyingly alert and cheerful, filled his ears.

“What time is it?”

“Three a.m.”

“It better be something important.”

“Hmm…” Diego droned.

“What?” Gustavo pushed the bedroom door open and strolled down the corridor.

“I’m not sure if Mayr getting himself a new boy is important enough. You sound annoyed, so I think I’ll call you in the morning.” Smug, arrogant, and too loud, Diego’s voice annoyed him. Gustavo’s blood seethed.

“I’ll murder you if you hang up,” Gustavo promised as he descended the stairs, then turned to enter his office. “Speak.”

“He just brought a twink home.”

“From where? Why didn’t you tell me he was leaving?”

“Because you didn’t ask for the bad news first. We have no idea how he left. The road posts reported negative on him driving away. But he arrived in a small Volkswagen registered for his company.”

“What’s the good news then?”

“The boy walks funny.”

“That’s your good news?” Even if Diego didn’t see him, Gustavo had to pull the phone away to give it a scowl.

“Rejoice. Your sweetheart isn’t asexual after all.” The tiny voice from the speakers reached him.

Gustavo rolled his eyes and pressed the phone to his ear again. “If you are this energetic, turn up before noon. I’d like to know about Seth’s new man and where they met.”

* * *

Seth didn’t turn onthe light when they entered the villa through the rear entrance. The door quietly closed behind their backs and locked with a click.

“Do you live here alone?” Ignaz’s asked in a small voice. He shrunk as if he was intimidated by the space or the possibility of meeting anyone else, or maybe the idea of them being alone finally hit him. The mirrored walls creating corridors reflected his pale face. “This is such a huge place.”

Is it?Seth tilted his head. This place had always felt ideal to him. Not too big or too small, just what he needed not to feel cramped or lonely. Seth shook his head, throwing the unnecessary thoughts out of his mind. To break the heavy atmosphere, he entered the kitchen and clicked the switch. Light blazed through the space and glinted off the white stone, glass, and mirrors.

“This is pretty.” Ignaz whispered. Automatically, Seth traced his gaze. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he looked up at a flock of glass butterflies mixed with dandelion seeds that hung above the kitchen island. Seth had created this work when he was sixteen, in love for the first time. He couldn’t say why he still kept it. The piece was flawed; it had millions of air bubbles inside and hindered light. It didn’t resonate with his soul anymore. He wasn’t the same person who created this glasswork. Still, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Maybe because it reminded him of his lost purity, he couldn’t say.

Seth’s gaze darted to the boy. The light reflecting against the dangling glass illuminated Ignaz’s face; his eyes sparkled like shallow water.

You are pretty. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but it worked like a sobering slap. His smartwatch buzzing saved him from the awkward staring and gave him a second to think. He checked the rectangular display to find four missed notifications. What am I doing? Why did I bring him home?Why can’t I walk away from him?

He gave Ignaz a fresh, reevaluating look. The boy still wore his straitjacket and tiny shorts smudged with blood. With his hands wrapped around his middle and his traveling gaze, he looked lost.

Ignaz’s legs prickled with goosebumps. Seth glanced at the air conditioner. It showed 18°C¹. He approached the smart home control panel on the wall and turned the conditioner off. “Hungry?”

Ignaz shook his head, swallowed. A puzzled look crossed his face. “In the club, did you hold back?”

Seth wasn’t sure how to reply, so he tilted his head to the side.

“Do you want to continue?” Ignaz’s voice sounded small, uncertain, yet at the same time needy as it carried around the kitchen. “You don’t have to hold back. I can take more. A lot more.”

Seth’s vision narrowed on the dilated pupils, pale but determinate lips, bobbing Adam’s apple, and a tiny vein furiously beating on the side of his neck. Ignaz looked desperate. Once again, his eyes glinted with feverish madness.

Seth had never seen a submissive frenzy before, but he instantly thought this must be it. A fire of curiosity flooded his chest. He wondered how far Ignaz would go in his chase for satisfaction.

Any other day, with anyone else, Seth would have said “yes”. Today, he said, “Maybe next time. You should rest.”

“Why not? I can see you want it too.” Teeth chattered, Ignaz surged to him, his fingers wrapped around Seth’s forearm.

Seth’s stared at the bluish nails contrasting with his black button-up. As if realizing what he had done, Ignaz stumbled back. A deep shudder ran down his body, and his knees gave up.

Reaching after him, Seth grabbed his forearm, steadying him on his feet. Drawing closer, he examined the yellowish outline around Ignaz’s eye, then his sharp cheekbones. Seth’s heart drummed, as up-close Ignaz’s eyes were bottomless. His predatory instincts stirred.

This isn’t even seduction; this is a provocation. If this is how he always behaves… A part of him was tempted to accept the invitation, to watch Ignaz’s naked body shake with pain, with pleasure, to color his back in red. …no wonder he is always getting hurt.

Before he changed his mind again, Seth bent forward and threw Ignaz over his shoulder.

“No, no, please, put me down.” A panicking voice reached Seth from behind, light punches bombarding his back.

Seth’s breathing caught, then hastened before settling into a shallow, uneven rate, reminding him of his cracked ribs. Shifting Ignaz’s weight away from his assaulted ribs, he ordered, “Be quiet. I’m not going to do anything.”

He went upstairs, opened a spare bedroom, then stomped into the bathroom. Putting Ignaz onto the tan tile floor, he lifted his chin toward the shower cubical. “Warm up and get in bed. I’ll bring you some herbal tea.”

His blood calmed;his mind cleared. Carrying a cup of tea in one hand and two gel ice packs in the other, he cruised into the room.

The window stood open, and a gentle breeze caressed his cheek. Through the darkness, he saw the silhouette of the small body lying on his stomach under the duvet.

He placed the cup on the nightstand and examined the pale face. Ignaz’s lashes trembled, betraying his alert state. He reached to the duvet. When he lifted the corner, the boy tensed.

Not paying attention, Seth scrutinized the damage he’d caused. Even in the dark, the puffy, disturbed flesh around the welts stood out against the milky skin of his thighs. Without a word, he placed ice packs on Ignaz’s ass, then tossed the duvet over.

“If you need anything, my bedroom is down the corridor.” Seth turned around and walked away.