Seth by Nero Seal

Portia’s call caughtSeth midway home. Her sharp tone and precise words informed him that she didn’t expect any reply and just called to inform him that the interior decoration of the foyer of SkyBlade was finished and now required his attention.

Seth U-turned the car and drove to SkyBlade. His mind cleared, energy boiled, and his hands were light and steady when he installed a set of prisms designed to intensify and redirect the daylight to one spot—the chamber of Justin’s heart. He finished when darkness swallowed the sun.

He picked up Ignaz in the parking lot of the mall. They didn’t exchange a word on the way to his villa. Seth sensed the air of urgency emitting from him. A feverish look settled on his face and even his movements, so calm and relaxed a day before, picked up neurotic angularity.

Driven by the silent need, they entered the villa through the rear door, and Seth ushered Ignaz toward the opposite end of the house, then downstairs to the basement.

* * *

The smell of bloodcurdled the air as energy circulated through the room. The mix of endorphins and adrenaline sent Seth’s head spinning. Bouncing off Ignaz, it gently flowed back, wrapping around Seth. Waiting for another moment, he lifted the bullwhip and struck.

WHIZZZZZ.

The leather tongue licked the old, white scars on Ignaz’s shoulder blade. The boy jerked, pain contracting his muscles. Tiptoeing, he looked like he clung to consciousness and the St. Andrew’s cross with everything he had. His knees shook, fingers trembled as they wrapped around the shackles. His muscles rolled as if every nerve ending feasted on pain.

“More,” Ignaz demanded in a shaky voice. The gray stone of the basement carried the echo of his request, dragging it around, multiplying it. That was Seth’s design. The walls reflecting sounds empowered them. Speaking here was easier for him as every whisper sounded as loud as normal speech. Here, he didn’t need to strain his throat. “More.”

Seth struck again but with less force. With every lick of leather, it took Ignaz longer and longer to process the pain. Spasms and contractions of his limbs excited Seth’s mind, yet a weird notion prevented him from fully enjoying it. The same feeling he’d experienced during their first scene. Despite Ignaz’s body reactions, Seth wasn’t sure if the boy chased subspace or drowned in pure agony. And once again, Ignaz dove into another reality where Seth didn’t exist.

He wanted to come closer and look into the deep-blue eyes, run the back of his fingers alongside his slim face, and make sure the boy enjoyed himself, but he doubted Ignaz would appreciate it.

“More.”

Seth complied. The whip licked above the still healing buttock. Ignaz sucked in a sharp breath, pain rippling through his body.

Blood and sweat trickled down his contracting back, ass, and legs. Despite the gory picture, Seth knew the damage wasn’t crucial. The multiple cuts he’d left weren’t deep, and none of them touched Ignaz’s liver, kidneys, or spine. The whip never wrapped around his torso, never damaged Ignaz’s front.

“Mo-re…” The weak, incoherent voice reached his ears, and Seth’s vision zoomed in on the slacking fingers. Ignaz’s knees twitched. His shoulders spasmed, and he shuddered. Throaty cries of misery and pain washed Seth’s soul in darkness.

“Ignaz…” Seth frowned, approaching the St. Andrew’s cross with small, silent steps. He folded the whip in the middle and ran the loopy end over the back of Ignaz’s thighs, flank, neck, and arm, avoiding the damaged areas. “How do you feel?”

The boy shook his head.

“M-more...” He demanded, hysterical notes seeping into his voice.

Pain had always been alien territory to Seth. Never having experiencing it, he needed the guidance of his partner. Without it, he couldn’t say where the borders lay and if he crossed them. At the moment, Ignaz was incapable of doing so. He didn’t look like he remembered his own name, let alone being able to assess the situation, so Seth asked, “Do you know who I am, or where you are?”

Ignaz rolled his head, leveling Seth with unseeing eyes. His eyelids reddened and swelled, pupils dilated, and cheeks glistened with tears. “Hurt me. I need more… Much more.”

“I don’t think you do.” Seth huffed out, “Let’s stop here.”

“No. No!” Ignaz growled; his body thrashed against the cross, limbs jerking, trying to break free. His eyes disappeared into the grimace of agony, his jaw dropped, and he wept. “More! I said more.”

He hurled back, and the shackles stripped skin off his wrists.

“Easy-easy…” Seth whispered and pressed his chest against the bloody back to stop Ignaz from hurting himself. The muddy pupils crawled under the upper eyelids, leaving only the crescents visible. Ignaz’s nose ran, saliva bubbled at the corner of his mouth, and his honey-blond hair stuck to his forehead.

“I’m going to uncuff you now.” Seth blew at his cheek, concern rising. The boy didn’t react. His eyelashes fluttered, but his pupils remained rolled up.

He doesn’t see me.Seth tossed the whip aside, lowered to his knees, and undid the shackles around Ignaz’s ankles. He rubbed each foot in his palms to restart the blood circulation then got up. He grabbed a piece of gauze and soaked it with medical antiseptic before covering the bleeding back. Resting the slack body against his chest, he released one hand, then another. Ignaz sagged into his arms, head resting on his collarbone. Seth’s white shirt turned red where the bloody cloth separated their bodies.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered into Ignaz’s ear, lifted the motionless body in his arms, and carried it out of the dungeon.

By the time they reached the bed, Ignaz convulsed, sobbed, and gulped the air with an open mouth. Carefully, Seth lowered him to the bed on his stomach and brought a glass of water to his lips. Ignaz pushed it away, water spilling on the bedsheet. Not taking offense, Seth tried again and again until Ignaz leveled him with an empty look. The gaze stripped of any recognition stabbed Seth’s pride.

He frowned, wondering if he imagined it, but upon his attention, Ignaz’s clammy fingers fumbled over his hand, and the boy clung to the glass, teeth chattering against the edge.

Seth’s heart halted. Two layers of glass and one layer of water magnified the skin on Ignaz’s wrist better than any lens.

A silver web of scars crisscrossed the wrist. Horizontal and vertical, tiny and straight lines disfigured the skin. Seth knew only one object capable of leaving such a tale-telling story—a razor.

So many…

The view plunged him into the dark reality, the slam so brutal he groaned. Why am I surprised? I always knew…

He took the glass away from Ignaz’s mouth and slid his fingers up the scarred wrist, skin rippling under his finger pads. Ignaz rested his cheek against the pillow and closed his eyes, withdrawing from reality, but Seth couldn’t stop staring.

Something stirred in his chest giving birth to a distant feeling of kinship. Yes, I’ve always known.

* * *

“Are you going to bed?”Hans’ blond head, peeking through the door, drew Gustavo’s attention to his lover. He had been watching Seth for hours now. The longer he watched, the more he recognized the familiar glint in Seth’s eyes. He had already seen it during the presentation. With eyes full of possessive adoration, he’d ogled the bloody sand weeks ago.

“Did you say something?” Gustavo forced his thoughts away from Seth.

“I asked if you are coming to bed with me?” A bat of thick lashes and a seductive smile that usually ignited Gustavo’s blood did nothing now, as his thoughts trailed back to Seth. Propped on an elbow, Seth hovered over the sleeping boy, once again reminding Gustavo of Narcissus by Ernest Eugene Hiolle. Just like the statue played with its reflection, Seth caressed the boy’s pale palm. He sat like that for hours, not moving a muscle as if turned into a piece of marble.

“No, you go ahead; I’ll join you later. I have things to do.” Hans’ lips disappeared into a slit; he silently shut the door.

A part of Gustavo wanted to go after him, wrap his arms around his perfect body, but his mind refused to let Seth go. Leaning back into the chair, he looked at the empty place on the wall.

Seth’s gaze, full of emotion, resurrected in his memory. Despite leaving bloody trails, the licks of his whip looked like the most tender touches. Even if the cameras filmed the scene from awkward angles and despite the lack of intimate touches, Gustavo sensed the electricity, the almost sexual tension in the air. The act felt more intimate than the most provocative porn he’d ever seen. It bothered and excited him at once, making him question his motives, desires, and sanity. He didn’t know this Seth, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to because, for the first time, the man on the screen almost looked human. Gustavo wasn’t sure he wanted to see Loco like this. He wasn’t sure he wanted to learn his gentle side. He liked the idea of teasing the beast because it was easier to keep his distance and his desires at bay.

Once he saw a human in Seth, he wouldn’t need to resist the pull, he wouldn’t need to draw borders, and that by itself was a very dangerous realization. The realization that made him hate that puppy-dog look in Seth’s eyes directed at someone else.

“I was right all along… it’s not hatred that drives you. It has always been love.”

* * *

The desert washed in red,but Set couldn’t see the sun through the thick cloak of whipped sand. He twisted on his hoof, a dune shifting beneath him, but without the sun, he couldn’t say which way to go. Something touched his leg. He glanced down to find a dermestid beetle¹ crawling up his leg toward the festering wound on his shin, bone peeking from under the skin. Attracted to the smell of decay, the insect crawled to lay eggs and feast on the flesh of the fallen god.

Disgust flooded his soul. With a flick of his Was-staff, he knocked the beetle off.

“Not so soon. I’m still alive.” He said and speared the insect with the forked end of his staff.

He squared his shoulders and seized his surroundings. The desert, as if tired of the deathly hush, brought down a purifying storm to demolish the weak and sick and clear the road to strong and healthy. And right now, it attempted to hasten his decomposition.

Sand stabbed him in the eye and torn throat. Rebelling against him, the desert raised tall dunes as if building a tomb to bury him alive.

When did the desert became his enemy? Ever since he could remember, it’d always protected and obeyed, inspired and guided him. Now it tried to tear his body to pieces.

He turned his muzzle to the sha animal crowning the Was-staff to see if it changed too when a distant glint caught his attention. Too dim to be the sun, it flickered with a blue light.

There was something imperceptibly familiar in this light that despite the cold hue, it felt warm. Set’s hoofs followed it. Even though the distance between them shrank, the light weakened. Like a tiny firefly, it guttered and died, leaving Set alone in the raging desert.

Vexed, Set raised the staff in the air and ordered, “Calm.”

The airwave emitting from him pushed the sand back but didn’t subdue it.

“I said, calm!” Set’s voice rolled over the desert. The clearing grew larger and revealed a naked figure sitting on the sand. Slender arms folded over the blond head, legs crossed in front of his groin. White scars covered the pale back as the boy stirred and raised his head.

Mesmerized, Set came closer and kneeled in front of the naked man. His hands froze mere inches away from the shaking shoulders. Strings of sand rose from the ground and weaved into a cloak, covering the boy’s nudity.

When the boy raised his eyes at the monster he was, Set rustled, “Do not fear. Nothing bad will ever happen to you. Finally, I found you.”

* * *

Seth woke, pantingand disoriented. He didn’t instantly recognize the room, and the lack of gloves and blindfold messed with his senses. He rose on an elbow, and his gaze landed on the boy, sleeping next to him.

Light hair, gentle face, long eyelashes, plump lips, sharp chin—washed in the bluish moonlight, Ignaz looked like a fallen angel, pure and corrupt at once. A white feather stuck in his hair aggravated this resemblance.

Seth’s mouth dried up. He picked up Ignaz’s hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the net of scars on his wrist. Without looking away, without blinking, he whispered, “You glow so brightly. How come I’ve never noticed it before? People before me must have tainted and hidden your light. But now, I see it clearer than ever.”

When the sunlight scattered through the leaves, waking up morning birds, Seth slipped off the bed and exited Ignaz’s bedroom. His chest tightened, but his mind was cold and clear.

He needed to make Ignaz stay, and for that, he needed to play by his rules.

* * *

Half an hour later,when Ignaz stumbled into the kitchen, Seth’s every nerve strained and rang with anticipation. He heard the quiet footfalls but didn’t turn around to meet the intent stare. With his palms pressed against the kitchen island, he looked outside at the shimmering foliage. The last session disturbed him, and now, after the dream, he became aware of Ignaz’s presence and couldn’t decide how to behave around him.

After enduring the torturous silence and intense gaze for another minute, Seth turned around to catch Ignaz staring. The boy looked away and mumbled, “Good morning.”

Seth approached. “Feeling raw?”

A shy nod splayed honey-blond hair over the clear forehead, filling Seth’s heart with a powerful urge to brush it away.

“Yesterday, you cried a lot,” Seth rustled. His hand flew up, and the back of his index finger hovered before Ignaz’s puffy eye. More than anything, he wanted to touch that swollen skin, to feel it pulse under his touch. Instead, he smiled and dropped his hand. He had already made too many mistakes with others that he couldn’t allow another failure, not when his time almost ran out.

He stepped back, giving Ignaz space, but every cell of his body demanded he wrap his arms around the slender shoulders and tug the boy into his embrace.

It was a game. An essential game to show his affection and respect for Ignaz’s space —to make him feel at ease and in control—to instill the awareness of Seth’s presence into his mind—to fill his heart with anticipation and desire for Seth’s touch.

Seth loathed this game. He never understood why he had to hold back when he could kiss Ignaz, take care of his needs, and lift his worries. But more than craving physical contact, Seth needed to know the answers to his questions. “What happened yesterday?”

Ignaz winced.

“You probably heard that I need more than most subs,” he confessed in a small voice, then hastened to explain, “You shouldn’t have stopped. I was fine. Sometimes I just want to pass out from the pain. That’s why I always get blacklisted, but I have everything under control.” He chuckled and shook his head. A simple gesture gushed rage up Seth’s throat. “Now you think I’m a freak and won’t play with me."

Instead of answering, Seth pointed to the kitchen counter abounding with paper bags. “Help yourself. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a bit of everything. I’ll be upstairs if you need something.”

“Aren’t you staying with me?” Ignaz’s face fell, Seth’s heart thundered, anger fading.

“I’m not hungry.” Seth didn’t lie; he wasn’t hungry, but then again, he’d never been. Usually, he ate because his watch told him to, but with his awareness of the boy rising, he doubted he could swallow a bite even if he stayed. “And I need to finish the draft.”

When Seth inched toward the door, hurried footsteps followed him. Hesitant fingers seized his forearm but instantly let go as if Seth’s skin burned them.

Seth turned, following Ignaz’s retreating hand with a surprised gaze. The touch felt nice. He wanted more.

“Sorry…” Ignaz’s chin dipped to his chest as he wrenched his hands.

“It’s fine to touch me if you want.” For the first time in ages Seth was grateful for having a low voice that never sounded desperate.

Ignaz’s shoulders relaxed a fraction; he managed a pleading smile. “Can I come with you then? This place is too big, and I don’t like eating alone.”

Seth stopped breathing. The desperation in Ignaz’s eyes resembled the need and longing he’d always craved to see in the eyes of his partners. His plan to keep a cold-headed, distant, and casual attitude went out of the window. “I’ll stay.”

Ignaz beamed, a shy smile touched his lips, slipped, then reappeared. “Would you eat with me, please? Please…”

As if entranced,Seth nodded. “Sure.”

Anything you want....

* * *

For the next two days,Seth barely left Ignaz’s side. The puppy-like adoration glowing in his eyes, annoyed Gustavo and made him regret wiring his house. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but not this irritating, selfless servitude.

In an attempt to distract himself from the jaw-locking visuals of Seth doting on Ignaz, Gustavo rummaged through the piles of photocopied drawings.

Chaotic and rough, some pictures confused him to the point where he struggled to tell what they expressed. Most of them were made in simple pencil or ballpen as if Seth rushed to sketch things down before they slipped out of his mind. The others, drawn in charcoal, amazed with details and depth.

Gustavo sensed a story behind the Egyptian motifs. They reminded him of the tattoo on Seth’s back. The sketches of the Was-scepter and the ankh figured on dozens of photographs.

The pictures also seemed to have a chronology. In reverse order, they revealed the decaying process of the ancient Egyptian god Set. How, piece by piece, he tore his organs out of his flesh to give them to the mystical light.

The top pictures, Gustavo identified as the most recent ones, portrayed the god in a pitiful state where he had only one eye, a torn throat, wrecked chest, and festering skin. The last photograph showed a yellowish paper with frayed corners covered in finger smudges. On it, majestic and powerful, Set stood in his whole glory. His dark mane glossy under the sun, impeccable clothes stretched over his muscular body, and not a single blemish spoiled his obsidian skin.

Does he believe in Egyptian gods? Gustavo wondered, exploring the most recent drawing of the god holding a heart in his hand. Did I witness a sacrificial offering? If so, why the fuck is the god missing his heart? Was it a replacement?

“Urgh!” Gustavo shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind.

A heavy wave of a headache brought him to the couch, photographs scattering around him on the floor and piling over his chest. The more he tried to understand Seth, the less sense everything made.

“How’s it going?” Diego’s voice, coming from above, startled as he hadn’t heard him entering. Gustavo groaned, dropped a photo to his chest, and glared at the glowing face of his friend hovering above the couch.

Their eyes met. Diego whistled. “What’s with your chin? Did you shave with a foot, or did Snow Queen finally become passionate?”

He reached to Gustavo’s face and plucked a piece of paper tissue stuck to his chin. Bringing it to his eyes, he gave it a suspicious look.

“Annoying,” Gustavo replied to both of his questions and slapped Diego’s hand away. He lifted from the leather couch, tossed the pile of photographs to the floor, and ran his hand over his chin to brush off the rest of the tissue stuck to the cuts. Sleep had eluded him recently, and his body became heavy and sluggish. Mundane, simple tasks like shaving, became challenging to complete. Right now, even he couldn’t deny that watching Seth had turned into an exhausting, unhealthy addiction.

During the last two days, Gustavo tried to keep up with Seth’s daily routine, but he quickly learned that Seth didn’t need much sleep, and he followed a schedule. Every time his watch vibrated, he fulfilled a task, be it taking a shower, working out, using a bathroom, drinking water, or consuming food. The only time he ignored his alarm was when the clock showed eleven p.m.

Losing interest in Gustavo’s chin, Diego approached the laptop, stirred the mouse. He watched the screen for a few minutes before asking, “Is it me, or Mayr looks at this boy how Gollum looked at The One Ring?”

Gustavo snorted and got up from the couch. He approached the bar and snatched a glass from the polished counter before filling it with ice and anise vodka. The crystal liquid clouded and gradually turned milky.

Seth’s image of a brutal murderer shattered to pieces as a new face added to the collection. Gustavo didn’t know which Seth was real anymore. An asocial, eccentric, and snobbish millionaire, the bloodiest murderer, a sadistic dom, or just a man in love who eagerly anticipated every little wish of his healing partner.

“What is it, are you disappointed? Did you expect him to cut the boy’s head off and make a wine goblet out of his skull? Honestly, me too… He looks too normal to be a psycho. Maybe he has a twin brother?”

“Disappointed?” Gustavo looked up as the words hit the mark, or very close to it. Indeed, he’d expected passion, love or hatred, but not this care, not this affection. At least not to this boy.

“Oh, so they finally got intimate. Mayr isn’t bad in bed, huh? I’d love to spend a night with him. Just look at his ass…”

“What did you say?” Gustavo’s hand twitched. Icy liquid spilled and soaked his fingers as he stomped through the room to glance at the screen. On it, Ignaz lounged on the wide windowsill while Seth enthusiastically sketched something behind his drafting board.

“My fucking god… You aren’t disappointed, you’re jealous.” Diego’s annoying voice scratched his ears.

Gustavo wanted to sink his fingers in Diego’s perfect hairstyle and bring his face down to the desk with all his might. Multiple times. Instead, he rolled his eyes and took a swallow. The cold, refreshing drink calmed his nerves. “Think before you speak; you sound ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?”

“Would you be jealous if they kissed?” Diego’s grin widened.

“Would you stop? What brought you here anyway?”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot.” Fishing the piece of red glass out of his pants pocket, Diego placed it on the desk. “This.”

“You can keep it. I have no intention of paying for it.”

Diego laughed, then nudged the piece toward Gustavo with a fingertip. “Look closer.”

With a sigh, Gustavo complied. Silverish flakes froze in their eternal dance, like snowflakes against the setting sun. They hindered light, making it hard to look through, but apart from them, the glass was perfect, bubbleless, transparent. “What am I looking at?”

“See the silver flakes?”

Gustavo’s attention spiked. “Yes?”

“I’ve already seen something like this before. When my aunt died, my uncle turned her into an extravagant vase, can you imagine? He kept her next to his bed even after he remarried to prove to her he could still get it up and the problem, after all, was in her.” He chuckled, shook his head, then froze, one brow quirked up. “Never thought this knowledge would come in handy…”

“Diego?”

“Right. So, to make sure I’m not imagining things, I asked a lab to run a test. It’s ashes, and I have a clear idea whose ashes they are.”

“Ashes…” Gustavo twirled the piece of glass, and the flakes sparked. “This is what he did with the arm. This is what he does with the bodies… Diego, you are fucking brilliant.”

“Wait…” Diego patted his pants, looked around, then ran his palms over his chest before fishing his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his black jacket. “Could you repeat, please? I’m going to record it this time.”

“Only if you return my horse,” Gustavo kept his face straight.

“You don’t need the horse, Gustavo. You already have a perfect, toothless pony.” Diego cracked up.

“Fucker…” Gustavo couldn’t help laughing.

“Oh, and I think we know how Mayr leaves his house. On the other side of the hill, opposite his villa, we found some old masonry showing through the ground. We followed the stone and found a garage almost sinking into the hill. Quite odd, right? So, we broke in, and guess what? It’s not a garage; it’s an entrance to an old tunnel. There’re no cameras around to confirm Mayr is using this tunnel as an exit, but I bet ten thousand, this is it.”

“You are on. Good job, Diego.” Gustavo smiled and once again looked at the glass. “Next time the boy leaves, let’s pay Loco a visit.”

* * *

In the evening of theirthird day together, when Ignaz quietly informed him that he needed to go home, Seth kept his face straight despite the desert of his soul stirring up. Without a word, he gave Ignaz a lift, but before the boy exited his car, he said, “I’d like to meet again. Give me your cell phone.”

Ignaz hesitated before passing Seth an old flip phone with erased letters on the well-worn buttons. Seth hadn’t seen anything like this in ages. He struggled for a moment, trying to remember how to save his number into such a device, then proffered it back, looking Ignaz in the eye. “I hope it’s mutual. Call anytime; I’ll come and get you. Don’t look for anyone else.”

Their fingers brushed as Ignaz accepted the device. Seth held the phone for another moment before reluctantly releasing his grip. Every cell in his body protested letting Ignaz go, yet he unlocked the car, then averted his gaze, refusing to watch the boy leave. The familiar feeling of disappointment settled in his chest as Ignaz didn’t utter a word. I really shouldn’t hope. So what if he glows; they all did.

In the window reflection, Seth saw Ignaz nod, grab the door handle, then turn around, cheeks glowing. “Okay.”

The knot in Seth’s chest released. Head whipping to the boy, he smiled.