Seth by Nero Seal
Seth squeezed his eyes shut,then opened them again, not sure if he heard Ignaz right. “What did you say?”
“I don’t want the towel…” The boy repeated with his lips only.
The towel slapped against the concrete. Seth’s gaze searched the shelves for a substitute. “A fire blanket then?”
“No. It’s fine how you do it.”
Relief washed over him. His wrist flicked, and the flogger connected with Ignaz’s chest. Like a living being, the fire licked the mottled skin the way Seth wanted to lick it. He was jealous and happy at the same time, as he could at least touch the places the fire caressed, soothe them with his cool breath, and learn the textures with his fingertips.
His head swam, the air dried his lungs as the flames surrounding them diminished. He repeated the process over and over, working on different parts of Ignaz’s body, and for the first time since they met, Ignaz looked only at him.
When another strike set the skin above the pubis on fire, Seth’s knees hit the floor. He dropped the flogger and ran both palms over Ignaz’s stomach, killing the flames. Mind blurring, he pressed his lips to the skin that smelled like alcohol, sweat, and fire. Ignaz’s hips bucked, he moaned, and a weak request broke out of his throat.
“Touch me…” Seth looked at the glowing face, seeing nothing but heat behind Ignaz’s dilated pupils. The red lips parted, he arched back. His length, filled with blood, brushed against Seth’s cheek. “Please, touch me.”
Seth licked his lips, opened his mouth, and a slick head brushed over his tongue. Ignaz shuddered, whimpered, and thrust forward. His body convulsed, head tossing from side to side.
Under Seth’s grip, the skin on the bony hips whitened. His tongue ran down the shaft, caressing thick veins. His vision pulsed, heart sped up, and everything stopped existing. In this world, there was nothing more important for him than this boy’s pleasure.
The cockhead slipped down his tongue. He swallowed around the thickness, and the most wonderful moan washed him in pride. Kneeling before Ignaz felt so right. His gaze linked with the hazy eyes, and he sucked harder. The sweet taste filled his mouth. Ignaz’s turned his head to the side, teeth tormenting his lower lip. He moaned again, notes of desperation in the tiny sound.
Driven by the urge to feel more, Seth pulled back. Lips jumping to the hips, he lavished kisses on every inch of pink skin. His tongue lapped over the balls, then dragged along the length before Seth, once again, closed his lips around the red crown.
Ignaz pulsed on his tongue, spilling more sweetness. The cockhead hit the back of his throat and remained there, causing a surge of sour saliva to flood Seth’s mouth. The air became so potent, Seth thought that he could cut the desperation hanging in it with a knife. Loud, prolonged moans thrashed against the walls, empowered, multiplied. They assaulted Seth’s ears, washing his chest in satisfaction.
The boy shuddered and folded forward, hanging on the wooden shackles. A throaty groan tore from his chest, and a sticky, bitter jet hit Seth’s throat. After sucking the softening length dry, he pulled off, lips stretching in a tender smile. “You are beautiful.”
Heavy silence drowned the basement. A drop of water hit Seth’s forehead; he looked up.
Ignaz’s mouth spilled moisture, eyes leaked, and an ugly grimace of sorrow twisted his face. The bliss of euphoria drained from Seth. Ignaz wept.
Seth’s throat closed. His chest spasmed when a cry full of pain slashed the silence. With numb fingers, he undid the belts around Ignaz’s ankles.
The bony knees shifted, closed, as if Ignaz tried to hide from his gaze.
Trying to ignore it, Seth got to his feet and lifted the latch on the pillory, freeing Ignaz’s wrists, then reached to his cheek. An angry slap deflected his hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
Not understanding the sudden change, Seth stared at his hand. The skin at the back of his palm reddened with the impact. Ignaz moved, trying to pass him on his way, stumbled, and Seth instinctively wrapped his arm around his waist to stop him from falling.
“Never touch me again. How dare you? I told you not to touch me! Never!” the boy yelled, and his fist crashed against Seth’s mouth.
Seth’s head whacked to the side, ears ringing. He blinked, then again, waiting for the image before his eyes to settle, then pressed his palm to his mouth. When he tore it away, red glinted on his finger pads. And with the taste of blood, the pain of rejection kicked his chest, leaving him breathless.
His hands balled up. Ignaz’ stumbled away, eyes brimming with fear as if he expected to be hit.
Seth frowned as his gaze settled on the dying light of the nearly burned-through solid fuel. The habitual disappointment lay heavy and dark in his gut. I guess I misunderstood...
He turned on his heel and fled the basement.
Ignaz’s soft cries followed him then something heavy hit the floor. He didn’t turn around, needing fresh air, as breathing in his own home became impossible.
* * *
“Fuck my life,I thought he’d fry this chicken alive,” Diego exclaimed as he looked up from the screen. “But I have to admit it looks hot. Hard to believe it doesn’t hurt.”
Gustavo didn’t reply. Lounging on a couch, he twirled the piece of red glass in his hand, watching the ashes spark under the first rays of the awakening sun. Pink and yellow hatched the sky, coloring fluffy white clouds.
“Are you sulking because he sucked his cock and not yours, or you’re upset someone hit your toy? For a second, I thought Mayr would kill him on the spot.” Diego grinned, stirred the mouse, and rapid clicking reached Gustavo’s ears. “By the way, where is he? I can’t find him.”
“He left.”
“Left where?”
“To get the answer to this question, you should have wired his garden.”
CLANG.The piece of glass landed on the low table; Gustavo got up.
“Wow, someone’s in a mood. What is it? Did you finally realize you can’t satisfy him with your vanilla sex? Or did you get hard watching him fry this chicken and that bothers you now?” Diego’s face stretched, he yanked his hands away from the desk, fingers curling. “You didn’t wank here, did you?”
“Don’t be silly.” Gustavo scrunched his face.
“Then what is it?”
Gustavo didn’t answer because there was no way in the world he’d willingly admit that after seeing Seth’s shocked expression, after watching pain creeping into his features, he’d driven to his villa and spent hours looking for him in the night, in the rain, not knowing why. He felt like an idiot and didn’t know how to stop acting like one.
While watching Seth’s scene, he’d experienced all kinds of emotions, from initial rejection and concern to a strange fascination. When he watched Seth kneel before the boy to cool the burned area with his breath, his impression of Seth flipped once again. He didn’t know what to think about him anymore. Seth looked genuine in his care. Moreover, he looked as if he could never hurt the person in front of him. Then why did he kill Justin?
He shook his head, gaze falling upon his mud-covered shoes. A grape leaf stuck to the sole, and tiny pieces of debris clung to his socks. Gustavo closed his eyes as bile rushed up to his throat. His behavior was stupid, the obsession unwelcome and unhealthy. His life had turned into a laughable, pitiful existence of days spent in front of a screen watching a reality show starring a murderer. But the worst part was that he’d started humanizing Seth without having an ounce of understanding about what lurked behind his façade. He didn’t know anything about Seth, but his overcompensating imagination, was enough to leave Hans in the middle of the night and spend hours in a pointless search through Seth’s garden.
He opened his eyes to see Diego’s lopsided smile. “What are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do?” Gustavo echoed then got up. “I’m going to shower, have breakfast, and then I’ll join Hans in bed. I’ve been ignoring him way too much recently. You are welcome to stay if you want.”
“For your shower and vanilla sex with the Snow Queen?” Diego adopted an expression of exaggerated disgust. “Nah, I’ll pass.”
“For fuck’s sake, Diego, I meant breakfast.”
Diego grinned. “Oh, breakfast. I’ll stay.”
* * *
Seth walked all night.After leaving through the garden, he blended with foliage and descended the hill through the forest before strolling down the Danube River. No one followed him today except a stinging swarm of confused thoughts and sharp, painful memories.
He couldn’t process the change. One moment Ignaz moaned, chasing his pleasure in his mouth, the next, he pushed Seth away.
He kept poking the swollen wound on the inner side of his cheek with his tongue, preventing it from closing. The taste of blood helped him to remember the danger hope carried.
I never should’ve brought him home or let him into my life. He is hollow. I knew it all along. He isn’t the one.
The rain started around midnight and lasted for hours. His soaked shoes squished with every step. His fingers were trembling, but he still didn’t want to return to his empty house as Ignaz wouldn’t be there.
When the sun climbed into the sky and the gray clouds dispersed, Seth turned back. His watch didn’t shut up, reminding him of his basic needs. With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, he entered his villa from the backdoor. His chest compressed as if the air here had different gravity and now crushed him from all directions. He stumbled through the mirrored corridor and entered the vast kitchen. It greeted him with a hush. Not surprised, Seth ascended to the living quarters, entered the master bathroom, and took a shower. He drank from the tap and relieved himself. When the number of notifications on his smartwatch reduced, he changed into his sleep attire and crawled into bed.
The urge to check the rest of the house, to search for small reminders left by his short-term guest, sparked in his blood. Every cell of his body howled from the need to feel Ignaz by his side. He didn’t move.
He isn’t the one. He never has been.
The blinding sun broke into his bedroom, dust sparkling in its intrusive rays. To hide from the brightness, Seth covered his eyes with his forearm, and the vivid images of the night Ignaz spent in his room invaded his mind. How the delicate body pressed against him, fitting perfectly. He remembered the soft hair brushing against his cheek and the faint smell of his shampoo. Seth’s imagination ran wild because he could hear quiet steps coming down the corridor and the low creak of the door opening.
He groaned, squeezing his eyelids harder to get rid of the illusion, but it didn’t disperse. The steps approached.
Seth’s throat closed; his heart sped up. He opened his eyes, and his gaze clashed with Ignaz’s red eyes. Seth turned his head away and hid in his forearm again, not knowing what to say.
The duvet tightened around his hips as Ignaz straddled him. Firm fingers cuffed his wrist, pulled it away from his face, and pinned it to the mattress.
This time, Seth didn’t avoid Ignaz’s gaze. Hope quivered in his chest, a tiny, weak hope that Ignaz would stay. A hope that it had been one giant misunderstanding. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Seth spoke, sure his voice would be lost in the drumming of his heart, “You didn’t leave?”
“I promised to stay until your hand is healed.”
A small muscle beneath Seth’s eye twitched as bitterness surged into his mouth. He turned away, aiming to get up and leave. Ignaz leaned into him, grabbed his other forearm to pin it to the pillow above him.
Seth’s nerves tightened. A part of him expected another attack, but Ignaz’s eyes glistened with emotion.
“I shouldn’t have hit you. Does it hurt?”
Releasing one of his wrists, Ignaz reached forward. Seth averted his face before the fingers touched his cheek.
Ignaz sighed. “It was my fault, not yours. I didn’t stop you because, at that moment, I wanted it too. Seth, I never told you the reason why I have these rules.”
Seth froze, his desert hushed too, listening.
Ignaz swallowed, and his voice became so low, Seth had to strain his ears to hear him.
“Have you heard about the Painbow club and its owner?” The name rang a bell. Seth scoured his memory, but before his mind provided an answer, Ignaz explained. “It was a BDSM club in the second district. The owner was Nataniel Hoffman.”
“A murdered dom,” Seth remembered.
Ignaz nodded, eyes clouding with tears. “It happened right after Pride. There was still a flag hanging outside.” Ignaz’s chin trembled, and he swallowed. “The last patron had just left, and I was cleaning the bar when a group of skinheads broke in. They were swinging baseball bats, smashing everything around. They tore the flag down and set it on fire, then they started picking on us, on our clothes. It was summer, and I wore next to nothing. They reeked of alcohol. Someone said how funny would it be to give us what we ask for—sex and pain. They raped me one after another. They made him watch. And when they couldn’t get it up anymore, they used a broken bottle to ‘give me what I wanted’.”
Seth squeezed his eyes, realizing why he’d never seen Ignaz glow and why the Dead Sea splashed behind his pupils.
“I remember him screaming, and then a gunshot. When I woke up, I was in the hospital with forty-seven stitches inside me. Seth, Natan was my Master, my partner. We were exclusive; we were happy, and I couldn’t even testify at the trial.”
Ignaz settled his unseeing eyes on Seth. Shimmering drops tore from his lashes and crashed against Seth’s chest.
“Why not?” Seth asked with his lips only.
“I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t stand before people and tell them what happened when I couldn’t face the reality myself. Once, I tried to speak to a detective. He asked if somehow, I wanted it all to happen to me, that I must have begged for it since I’m into weird shit and had been dressed like that. He didn’t want a case like this in his file. I realized that no one would ever listen to me. No one gives a shit if one of us dies.”
Ignaz licked his lips. He opened his mouth, and a shimmering thread of saliva connected his upper lip to the bottom one. He sniffled, closed his mouth, and swallowed. His chest rose and fell in heavy, forced breaths. “Pain became my drug, my salvation too. When I hurt, I don’t feel this mind-shattering guilt. I feel like I’m getting what I deserve, and it feels good, right. I swore on his grave that I would never be with anyone again. That he will forever remain the only one for me. I haven’t had consensual sex since he died. But the truth is, those skinheads, they were right, I enjoyed the rough sex. My body loves it. I am the worst, Seth. I deserve everything that happened to me.”
Ignaz buried his face into his hands. The occasional drops, leaking through his fingers, crashed against Seth’s chest. He didn’t know what to say; he’d never been good at talking. One thing he knew for sure, his words wouldn’t matter anyway. There was nothing Ignaz hadn’t heard already. Seth reached up and wrapped his arms around Ignaz’s back, tugging him closer.
“It’s okay.” He whispered into Ignaz’s ear, resting the slim body against his chest. “No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”
When Ignaz’s soft breathing tickled Seth’s neck, informing him that the boy fell asleep, he carefully rolled Ignaz off himself and got up.
His studio welcomed him with dry air that smelled like books and dust. The sun, breaking through the wall-size window, flooded the wide, long windowsill and wooden floor with golden light. Hand on the backrest of his chair, he slumped down and turned on his PC. His fingers flew over the keyboard when he entered the website with digital information and services provided by the Austrian judiciary.
He groaned three minutes after. Fingers bombarding the desk, he stared at the application form he needed to fill to get permission to access details of any case. Options flipped through his mind: bribery, break-in, a hacking attack, a detective agency. Everything of the above would leave a glaring trace, except for one. Gustavo’s face surfaced in his memory.
Who would have guessed you can be of use…Seth closed his browser and left the studio. He needed to pay Gustavo a visit, but for that, he needed Ignaz to sleep for at least a few more hours. He went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water.
* * *
Seth lay on the roofof his car with the stolen rifle resting on his stomach. His car, taking both lanes, blocked the road. He stared at the pristine, blue sky sprawled over the forest as his mind drifted. Visions of desert flickered before his eyes as he relaxed, and only occasional twitches of his muscles disturbed his meditative state.
The low roar of a powerful sports car reached his ears. He stirred, slipped off the roof, and blended with the forest.
The yellow Lamborghini took the turn, then the tires screeched as the car halted. Seth left his cover, and the muzzle of the automatic rifle met the rapidly paling face of the young, blond driver. The man behind the wheel cringed as his head bobbed forward then bumped against the headrest. He gulped and settled his frightened, electric-blue eyes on Seth.
Moving sideward, Seth approached the car. His knuckles tapped against the driver’s window before the blond got the message and lowered the glass.
“Please, I have nothing to do with anything.” The slight Swedish accent pleased Seth’s ear.
“I know. Don’t worry. If you do what I say, I won’t hurt you,” Seth whispered. “Open the door.”
“I should have left him long ago…” Hans said under his breath, shook his head, and complied.
Seth squeezed between the seats, sliding onto the floor. “Turn around. If you attract attention, I’ll kill you. Park in the garage.”
“I never park in the garage.”
“Today, you will.”
* * *
Seth’s breathing slowedas his hand ran over the wood, learning the intricate ornamentation of the banisters. The same admiration he’d experienced during his first visit to Gustavo’s mansion returned as he examined the textures and ornaments in daylight. The carved wood banister by itself was a piece of art. Hand-crafted, it didn’t have a single repetition and seemingly told a story. There were no trite putti1 or naked female breasts so characteristic of medieval art, but lions and dragons, fantastic birds and fish. Branching trees separated one scene from another; each fragment portrayed a war between lions and dragons, where animals of all kinds took both sides as they tore each other to pieces.
Step by step, he ascended the staircase until his foot landed on the vast mezzanine boasting an impressive library. He traced leather spines with his finger, reading the names of philosophers and historians. The blue and white silk carpet absorbed his footfalls. When he looked at his finger pad, not a single particle of dust covered it.
This house is sure loved.
A corner of his mouth curled up as a strange longing hollowed his chest. He loved his home too, but it never possessed this cozy, warm feel. Unlike this place, his home didn’t have a soul, didn’t feel alive. Wondering why this place had such a strong sense of history, Seth descended the stairs.
His brows drew up as his gaze stumbled over the blond man sitting on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. Nostrils flared on his angry face; cheeks burned as he huffed out one breath of indignation after another as if having a heated imaginary argument.
Seth blinked. He had given him more than enough time to escape. A part of him wondered if the man was so terrified that he couldn’t move, but he quickly lost the thought as his attention jumped toward the displays. The wine collection didn’t interest him, but the antique swords and muskets carried an odd fascination.
Holding the rifle in one hand, Seth opened one of the displays. His fingers ran over the embossed lock plate of the nearest musket. Made of redwood and embellished with gold, it didn’t look like a weapon at all. A delicate carving of horsemen, dogs, and deer decorated the metal elements. A hunting musket.
The door to the office swung open. Seth instinctively raised the rifle. His finger twitched, and a deafening series of gunshots stunned him. Wooden paneling splintered, chips flew in all directions.
The blond man hunched forward, covering his head with his hands. Gustavo paled and flinched away from the slivers hitting his face. His eyes hardened as he slowly assessed the damage.
“So that’s how it works…” Seth rustled, blinking the shock away. “My bad.”
“Listen here,” Gustavo’s low voice vibrated with a warning. “I’m only going to tell you once. Shoot in my house again, and I’ll break your neck.”
Gustavo closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. His cheeks puffed as he pushed out a calming breath. A pink stripe on the bridge of his nose twitched. “Now, respect my house and hospitality, and put the weapon down before I lose my temper. Do you even know how to use it?”
“Now, I do.” Seth snorted without merriment. From the sound of Gustavo’s low, tranquil voice, every hair stood up on his arms. Watching the handsome face display one emotion after another, Seth submerged into an unpleasant flashback. An almost physical memory of the kiss made him soothe his upper lip with his tongue.
Whenever they met, his mindset, usually consistent and calm, splintered into fragments that refused to cooperate. He swallowed. The penetrative gaze snaked under his flesh, skinning him of privacy. It made him want to both riddle the man with lead and run and hide. Yet, Seth didn’t have a single valid reason to do either.
Seth concentrated, remembering his mission. Ignaz’s words, resurrecting in his ears, stripped him of options. He pointed the rifle at Gustavo. “Disarm.”
“Why so feral? I thought we were friends.” Facial expression hardening, Gustavo lifted his hands, palms forward. With two fingers, he pinched the lapel of his jacket and pulled it away, revealing a holster tucked under his arm. He withdrew the gun, then squatted down to put it on the floor. “May I ask how you entered?”
“Through the front door, just like you suggested.” Seth twitched the gun barrel at the blond man who rocked, hands wound around his middle.
“Fuck, Hans.” Gustavo cursed under his breath; his face fell. He darted to the couch, alertness sharpening his expression. The gentle, concerned voice, both confused and surprised Seth as the worry felt genuine. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
The blond man got up and shrunk away from his touch.
“You fucking promised that I’d be safe here.” Hans’ voice trembled as he threw his fist forward. His knuckles collided with Gustavo’s cheek, producing a satisfying noise. The dark-haired head whacked to the side. “He could have killed me.”
“I guess I deserved that.” Gustavo opened his mouth and worked his jaw from side to side, winced.
“Fuck you.” Hans’ lips twitched, he slumped back on the couch; arms folding. “Don’t talk to me. Right now, I’m praying he kills you.”
“I guess I deserved that too.” Gustavo rubbed his cheek. Expression darkening, he faced Seth as if he was the sole reason behind his problems. “What are you doing here? Coming uninvited has become a terrible habit of yours. Get rid of it, or I’ll help you do it.”
“You are not in a position to threaten me.” Seth rustled, vocal cords straining with the effort. “You wanted to get my attention so badly that I decided to grant your wish. Or now, when you play by my rules, it’s not funny and entertaining anymore? It was much easier to mess with me when your men had your back, right?” A shudder ran down Hans’ body; he rubbed his shoulders as if wanting to warm up. Seth wondered if the reason for this reaction was the sounds of his voice or fear. “You should be grateful I didn’t harm your lover after everything you did to mine.”
Hans’ chin jerked toward Gustavo, electric-blue eyes blazing.
Gustavo sighed. “Okay. You got me. What do you want?”
Not a single muscle twitched on Seth’s face; he moved along the bar running parallel to the mezzanine. The rifle’s barrel jerked toward the desk, ordering Gustavo to follow. Never breaking eye contact, Seth grabbed a pen from the desk and scribbled a number on a nearby sticky note.
Clutching the weapon with both hands, Seth pointed the muzzle at Gustavo’s chest then jerked it toward the note. Without a word, the man lowered in the chair. With a casual hand, he picked the note and gave it an evaluating look. “What is it?”
“A number of a legal case from two years ago. You are resourceful, aren’t you? Get the court transcript, and tell your people to stand down. If someone enters here, you both die.”
Gustavo’s black eyes bore into his, making Seth feel uncomfortable, exposed, naked. He hated this dissecting stare even more than the former mocking curiosity because this gaze brimmed with attention. The attention Seth had always craved.
After a moment of silence, Gustavo picked up his phone, made a quick call to inform security of a friendly fire incident, then sighed. “You didn’t have to do all this. You could have just asked. Let Hans go, and I’ll help you.”
Gustavo’s elbows pressed against the desk as he stippled his fingers in front of his chin. He looked calm and confident even under the deadly glare of the assault rifle. Unsolicited respect grew in Seth’s chest. For the first time, Seth realized that Gustavo must have killed more people than he had. And to run a drug business, Gustavo must have iron nerves. Flashbacks of their encounters confirmed his suspicion.
“I don’t think so,” Seth said. Hans shivered again.
Fleeting displeasure flickered behind the black pupils before Gustavo cocked his head. “I give you my word; there will be no retaliation if you let him go now. No one got hurt. No one needs to get hurt. I’ll give you what you need.”
“What’s your word to me? An empty sound. He stays.”
