Their laughter slowly fades to the back of my mind, and their loud movements into a slow motion.
Everywhere turns quiet, not even the Gar's shrieks can pierce through this moment.
As Loka's figure blurs with the scene around, only Azalea remains plain to sight. And I find myself being pulled into the charm of his smile.
Through the fire's reflection, I see him; every proportion of him, the way his exposed dentition glints despite the darkness, his eyes sparkling. They're green colored even now.
For a moment, he stops and looks at me. His grin slowly fades, and it seems as if the world paused for him too. Then he smiles, slowly blinking those long and thick lashes of his.
I feel his breath from here, as if he's standing less than half an inch in front of me.
This seems like the perfect moment to grab his face and kiss him, but the space between us would be a hindrance—the fire too, maybe, and Loka, and both our positions as master and slave.
Then there's my pride; my unwillingness to be anything but a loyal Firne.
There's so much between us; so much that it might start to be a burden merely standing in the same space or breathing the same air, or living in the same world.
Between us, a second seems like a minute… an hour maybe, or a day.
I wish it were longer. Yet, I'm thankful it isn't, as the world begins its operations; the blur disappears, the shrieks get louder, and reality kills the slow motion.
Worst of all, Azalea turns away when Loka grabs his attention. They resume their fucking laughter.
In all their shenanigans, all I hear is Loka moaning and Azalea slamming his loins to death againsther ass. It really isn't happening now. But I know it'll happen soon. Tonight maybe?
What else would Loka benefit from being chained to a goddamn prisoner who is as hot as fuck?
I lay on my back on a heap of leaves. It's never been in my dictionary to try sleeping. Today, however, I force myself to. It's good to give it a try.
It doesn't work for the first few hours, though. Three, maybe? That's how long it takes for Azalea and Loka to keep their fucking mouths shut.
However, their silence means disappearance. I realize that when I sit up only to find that they're gone.
"Bitch-ass Loka," I grind. Resentment much? Because now I'm seething even though I don't understand why.
Morning comes with its own unpleasantness; like Loka standing behind me while I'm stooped down to knot my shoes.
She sniffs the air, probably to get my attention, but I still don't look at her.
"Something's off," she mumbles, and I immediately look up. Aside from Azalea who's chained to a tree a few feet beyond us, loitering around the tree and kicking leaves, nothing else seems to be interfering with my day.
Oh, there's Loka.
"Never mind, it's my clothes," she slurs, prompting me to look at her. And, fuck, she's naked. Stark naked. Now that's like her.
"Good job fucking the one prisoner you should be looking after," I snap, finishing up my shoe knots.
"Well, I did fuck him in chains." She shrugs.
"No difference." I start to move towards the valley. Loka follows me like the bloody fool she is while rambling behind me.
"The chains; that's the clear distinction. Besides, look at him at his aftermath of being laid. He's glowing."
"He is loving it."
"I know, right? Isn't it fascinating seeing a prisoner who adores his prison?"
"Except, that's how you tarnished the only point of captivity; the agony, Loka—register that? He isn't supposed to have a smile on his fucking face."
"Well—"
"Goddammit! Shut up and go get him, Loka!" I yell, stopping in my tracks and turning around. The girl bumps into me but then staggers back. "We're standing in the valley and your prisoner is nowhere to be found, idiot."
"Oops!" Loka swings about immediately to get Azalea.
I don't wait for them. I keep on going. The confirmation of my suspicion only blows smoke from my anger.
Now I'm fuming. My heart is racing.
I need to punch something, but there's nothing but air and sand for miles. Maybe we should have traveled at night. Then, I'd have punched some fucking gars.