Page 88 of Seth
“Is that so? And here I was thinking you came so I could stop you from leaving. Am I wrong?” His palms skidded down the wall, fingers grabbed Hans’ shirt and ripped it. Buttons scattered across the floor. Hans swallowed, licked his lips, and lust hooded his eyes. He rolled his head backward, providing his neck for Gustavo’s biting kisses.
* * *
The following daysdrowned in unbearable heat and happiness. Seth thought that with every minute spent together, his relationship with Ignaz progressed. The boy didn’t shy away from his touch anymore, and the number of open smiles he showered Seth with grew as if obeying the rule of arithmetic progression. Still, now and then, Seth spotted guilt lurking behind Ignaz’s too quickly averted gazes, hands hidden in pockets, and poorly controlled quivering of his chin, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Another call from Albert Alby informed him that the tip of SkyBlade was completed and that the building successfully passed the architectural committee and could be opened whenever they were ready.
With the sculpture nearly finished, Seth’s list of urgent tasks melted. His priorities switched. Walter Fischer’s phone migrated into the lead box in the basement as he dedicated his attention to Ignaz and Justin’s heart.
On the fifth day of curing the plastinated heart, when it was time to remove the organ from the oven and assemble the chamber of the soul, Seth descended into the basement. He locked the door and didn’t leave until the final piece of glass took its place in the puzzle.
When the heat detectors on the walls beeped and flashed red, and his watch buzzed, informing him it was dinner time, he left the basement and hurried to the kitchen. His chest expanded, anticipating another beautiful evening, and deflated as he found the kitchen deserted.
It took ten minutes to rush through the chain of doors, opening one after another, until he finally found Ignaz in his studio. Shirtless and with a rattan cane in one hand, he settled his feverish gaze on Seth. “I need you to hurt me. Truly hurt me.”
And just like that, Seth’s happiness evaporated.
* * *
Pale skin contrastedwith the black leather of the St. Andrew’s cross as Ignaz shifted from foot to foot. His fingers fumbled over the cross’ rings in a search for a better grip. Today, no chains restricted his movements. Seth didn’t want to carry the scene too far as the dense desperation in the air held the bitter tang of regret.
Seth lifted the cane, and another strike broke the already battered skin on Ignaz’s back. The first stream of blood trickled down his skin.
Stop me…Seth closed his eyes.Please, stop me.
“More!” Ignaz demanded. “Harder.”
Seth obeyed without any enthusiasm. For him, pain and pleasure had always walked hand in hand. He got off watching his partners drift into subspace, dissolving into the morphine-like euphoria. Seth didn’t know how subspace felt; nevertheless, he had always enjoyed the experience, as it made his own blood spark.
If Ignaz didn’t seek subspace, Seth couldn’t see a single reason to torture him. This didn’t feel right, didn’t bring him joy. If anything, it swamped his soul in bitterness and regret.
“More!” The annoyed voice, coming from the St. Andrew’s cross, informed Seth that whatever Ignaz tried to reach had slipped out of his grasp again. Several times the boy drifted into another reality, but he quickly returned, losing his concentration.
“Ignaz…” Seth sighed. His hand felt heavy and refused to lift. “It’s enough.”
“No. The deal was until I can’t stand anymore,” an angry roar mixed with the words.
Seth observed the bleeding cut. Usually, Ignaz’s blood coagulated nearly instantly, closing the wound. Now, the stream thickened. Seth wondered if there was a swollen blood vessel he’d bruised before and had formed a hematoma he’d failed to notice.
“You are bleeding too much.” His low, hoarse voice sounded exhausted.
“Don’t talk.”
“You’re probably low on iron. It’s not safe.”
“I said don’t talk!” Ignaz growled and slammed his palms against the leather. His shoulders rolled, and his head lowered. “I need more. This isn’t enough.”
Seth looked at his hands. Once again, he felt like a mere tool in Ignaz’s game. He didn’t know where Ignaz’s mind drifted during their sessions, but staying behind alone didn’t bring him anything. Their sessions resembled a punishment, where Seth took the role of executioner. That was the last role he wanted to wear with Ignaz.
“No.”
“Why?” Ignaz let go of the rings, turned his drenched face to him. “Why? We are the same. You need this as much as I do. I see it in your eyes. Go ahead, hurt me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.” Seth strained his throat. His vocal cords spasmed.
