Page 46 of Love of the Egoist
He looks younger when he sleeps… kinder…
Kuon frowned, exploring the face of the sleeping man.
With his hair messed up, he hardly looks older than me. And this beautiful face, how could it ever belong to such a lowlife? Take it off! Show your internal ugliness! Fooling everybody…
Kuon gritted his teeth, trying to stop them from chattering. His skin hurt. His head pulled him down, weighted with melted lava of his brains. The untroubled face of the sleeping man electrified his conflicted emotions, tightening each and every nerve ending in his exhausted body. However, remembering the humiliating strokes of the whip, he clenched his jaw and carefully removed the sleeping weight off himself to get up.
His legs gave way, and a dull nagging pain in the small of his back hurled him into reality. Disgust twisted his guts as he rubbed his parched throat. Everything in this room repulsed him. It didn’t let him forget the moans of pleasure, squeezed out of his throat by Yugo’s touch. They resounded in his head, distorted with ugly echoes. Staying here any longer was agonizing. He struggled into his trunks, and with his handcuffs clanking, went to the door when a voice startled him.
“Leaving?”
Kuon stilled; his muscles tensed. Yugo’s voice struck him like lightning. He didn’t answer, just lowered his head and walked out. Yugo didn’t stop him.
??E??
FROM THAT NIGHT ON, Yugo summoned him every evening. He didn’t enter his body every day, letting Kuon recover, but they were having sex in one form or another for hours. Kuon changed during that time. He’d opened up,emancipated, and stopped denying his own physical desires. His body had developed to the point where even the smallest caress aroused him; he’d stopped hiding it not only from himself but from Yugo. His moral wall had finally fallen from Yugo’s hand.
But no matter how ardent Kuon became in moments of passion, as soon as they finished he turned frigid. He didn’t speak and didn’t react to Yugo’s pitiful efforts to provoke him. Sex was the only thing that connected them, and Kuon made sure to show Yugo this. He got up from the bed as soon as Yugo released him and disappeared from the bedroom before Yugo had a chance to call for him.
Every night Yugo sat in front of the monitor and watched Kuon tossing in his bed, listened to his ravings and whispers in his dreams. This vigil had become some kind of a ritual that Yugo couldn’t live without. The mystery of his prisoner’s nightmares haunted him.
Yugo was furious. Their relationship hadn’t developed at all. He came to the conclusion that they’d met a dead-end and he couldn’t find an exit from it. Of course, he owned his body, and Kuon had even started to enjoy their intimacy, then why wasn’t he happy? Somehow it wasn’t enough. He was lacking something, and every time Kuon left his room with his lips pressed tight in disgust, Yugo felt torn and miserable. His heart ached as if someone had poured sulfuric acid into his chest.
The night when Kuon, suffering from fever, had grasped his hand and begged him not to leave vividly replayed in Yugo’s mind in a sacred memory time after time. This memory, worn through with time, became unrealistic. Yugo started to doubt it’d really happened, but he still clung to it with painfully-sweet melancholy. The man that Kuon was today would never ask him to stay. He would never call his name. Distant and aloof, he was only interested in sex, and it was driving Yugo crazy.
“What are your dreams about?” he directed the question at the monitor, but without a reply, he got up from the chair and ran his fingers through his slick hair.
“No… please, don’t do this… no!” The strained, hoarse voice came from the speakers and Yugo switched off the monitor. His heart pounded with confidence when he left the small room and walked out of his bedroom.
The long corridor decorated with vintage wallpaper had a lot of doors, but at this time of the day, it was empty. Only one person didn’t sleep. Greg, leaning against the wall, was engrossed in some primitive game on his smartphone. Weak speakers produced boingy and smashing sounds every now and then.
“You can go,” Yugo said before opening the door to the white room. “I’m gonna be here until morning.”
The man, dressed in a suit even during the night, raised his eyebrows. His face displayed his doubts and concern, but he said nothing. Wishing his employer a good night, he withdrew. Yugo snorted, he knew everything Greg wanted to say but didn’t dare to. They’d worked together for too long and had developed a kind of mute communication. Greg was an open book to Yugo.
He closed the door behind him, shrugged off his clothes, leaving a careless trail of expensive garments. Squatting by the mattress he halted for a second, watching Kuon tossing on his unpretentious bed.
“Don’t…” His desperate and suppressed moan made Yugo’s mouth water, forcing him to swallow hard and lose his confidence. Perspiration coated Kuon’s face, and despite the darkness, Yugo could see how pale he was.
He sank onto the mattress and wormed under the thick, warm blanket. His hands wrapped around the sleeping man, his body pressing against Kuon’s cold and damp form.
“Everything is okay. I’m here,” he whispered and caught his breath.
What if my actions are the cause of Kuon’s nightmares?Fear left his body with no heat. But the pale features in the gloom relaxed, and stiffness left Kuon’s body under his touch. Harsh breathing evened, recovered, and Kuon’s icy fingers relaxed against his chest.
Yugo let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes.
??E??
KUON WOKE UPbut wasn’t in a hurry to open his eyes. Nothing good awaited him—not today, not tomorrow, not in a week, maybe not ever. He stopped counting days. He knew it was the end of summer, but he’d stopped caring long ago. The sun, blistering and ardent, burned the air out of his room. Stifling depression sprawled in his chest. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to eat, he didn’t even want to open his eyes. Nothing in this world held his interest anymore. He could sleep all day long and it didn’t bother him. Everything was better than staring at the white walls of his prison.
The itchy blanket burned and squashed him. A lazy kick didn’t help to shrug it off, and he tried again, but nothing changed. It didn’t move. He sighed and forced his eyes open.
What the hell?His blurred vision obviously played tricks on him. He blinked, trying to fix it, then blinked again and again, but the hallucination didn’t waver.
Yugo slept with a peaceful smile stretching his thin lips. And like the other night, his arms were wrapped around Kuon’s waist, and his head rested on his stomach.
Again? What the fuck is going on?He thought in astonishment. Carefully, he rolled the man off himself and snorted, thinking how flippant Yugo was by relaxing in his presence.
