The Mist and the Lightning. Part 17. Ви Корс
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Название: The Mist and the Lightning. Part 17
Автор: Ви Корс
Издательство: ЛитРес: Самиздат
Жанр: Эротическая литература
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Kors impetuously embraced Nikto:
“I won't give you offense! Don't worry, my dear, what's that face? I've already forgiven you. Everything is good! It's already over, take it easy. We have the medicines,” he smiled triumphantly. “He would never have given them to us, he would have fooled us, hiding behind pseudoscience. And now we have them!”
And Nikto smiled at him forcibly.
“Yes, I have taught him a lesson. He will remember it forever that he shouldn't behave like that with blacks. I know those clever people who, using their position, try to mislead others. This number will not work with me! Now we will return to our place, I will give you an injection, and you will feel better.”
“I'm fine now.”
“And you will feel even better!”
“What if these drugs are really against constipation?”
Kors looked at him and laughed.
“Nik, my love, are you kidding me? A sense of humor is not your greatest strength. Everything will be fine, trust me,” he gently hugged Nik, stroking his head and kissed the cheek that was not covered by hair with his renewed letter on it. He kissed his letter, as he did constantly.
“What do you want for dinner? I will order to cook for you.”
“I don’t know.”
“These sea creatures from the Upper World, although they look disgusting, taste very good.”
“Who smell like a dirty slut?”
“What?! A-ha-ha, Nik, I have no idea what an unwashed slut smells like.”
“Well… like a fish…”
“Well, now, it seems, I will not be able to touch this dish.”
“Sorry.”
“Okay, the black and green grape-like berries are quite tasty.”
“Which are salty?”
“Yes.”
“Oh no.”
“Why? Are they like a dirty whore too?”
“Well, they are wet and salty… but I'm not because of this…”
“Nik! Now I can't eat them either,” Kors laughed, “is there something that does not taste and smell like a whore?”
And Nik laughed too.
“We’ll be right back, and I’ll give the order for the slave to start setting the table. And to properly heat that marble room with hot steam.”
And Kors cheerfully walked through the arches and enfilades, pacing the palace as if it belonged to him, and Nik, limping slightly, silently followed him.
Arel was lying on the bed, and Kors shook his head.
“Arel, how can you be so lazy? You don't do anything at all, you don't do anything. You are not helping us in any way!”
Arel looked at him with haughty indifference and yawned.
“An absolutely useless creature. Cover your mouth with your hand when you yawn. Senseless creature, what should I order to eat? Maybe you should get an injection too, you must be contagious. What am I talking about? And I probably am contagious too. I, too, already have an infection from you. But why didn't I take my doctor with me!”
“Because he’s not really yours, but the doctor of blacks?” Said Nik carefully.
“Well, our doctor of blacks, he doesn’t pretend to be so clever as this red.”
“Because he stayed with seriously wounded Varah.”
“Yes, I let the guts out of him,” Kors smiled. “For you, my love!”
“You seriously injured him, the infection began.”
“Let him die in a puddle of his own shit, there was no need to leave the doctor with him.”
“Zagpeace thought differently.”
“Why are you talking to me now about Zagpeace? I can’t hear about him, and I’m not cold yet, Nik, I’ll be carried away now.”
Nik thought it best to remain silent.
“Arel, don't start biting your nails! Now take your hand off your face!”
Kors looked with regret at Arel’s beautiful aristocratic hand with long thin fingers, “decorated” with black “rings” of unclean ones.
“How you ruined his hand!”
Nik didn’t answer and quickly touched his nose with his hand. Kors caught his hand, pulling it towards him, removing his glove and kissing.
“Stop doing that. Stop it, my naughty Demon bad student!”
“Who?! This is something new, before I was dirty and shaggy for you.”
“Yes. But thanks to my efforts, you began to wash more often, and I take care of your hair. Now we need to start teaching you.”
“Oh…”
Kors sat Nik next to him on the edge of the bed, and, slightly removing his brush from him, began to examine the black fingers:
“How can you paint black the skin under the nails?”
“Well, these are not really nails…”
“Yes, tell me how you can create this horror with yourself.”
“Maybe I should not?”
“Tell me!”
“Well, nails… human nails are ripped out…”
“Well! Further…”
“Black paint is introduced into the wound, then the unclean claws take root.”
“Did you do this with all your fingers at once or one at a time?”
Nik didn’t answer, Kors kissed his hand:
“Do you like what I give you, my Demon Son, do you like it?” He whispered.
“Yeah…”
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