Zed's eyes slid back to Nigel, his fingers now ghosting across his own chest, slow, uncertain, trying to mimic what he thought Zed wanted. Trying to fill the silence with his own rhythm.
Zed clicked his tongue once.
Then looked at Thanos again.
"You're interrupting the view."
Thanos' head snapped toward him. "What?"
Zed's eyes narrowed, lips barely parting as he spoke again, quieter this time.
"On the bed."
Three words.
Thanos froze.
The breath in his chest caught like it hit a wall.
"Don't order me around."
Zed's brow lifted, just slightly. "Then go."
The dare in his voice was laced with ice.
Nigel turned toward Thanos again, gaze softer this time, open, lips parted like he was about to speak but chose not to.
Thanos' fingers twitched.
"You're both freaks."
Zed smirked, "Then why are you still here?"
The silence answered for him.
The room was dim, yet every movement was sharp, Zed's stare, the tension on Thanos' face, Nigel's small, hopeful intake of breath.
Thanos stepped forward.
One step.
Two.
Paused at the edge of the bed.
He looked down at Nigel, flushed, warm, chest rising with anticipation.
And slowly, like a predator pretending not to stalk, Thanos slid onto the bed.
Not toward Nigel. Not yet.
Just enough to sit, legs bent, arms behind him to support his weight.
His eyes met Zed's across the room.
No more words exchanged.
But Zed's gaze glinted.
The game had started.
And Thanos? Already caught, hook, line, pride unraveling.
The room pulsed with silence, no background music, no forced moans. Only the slight creak of the bed and the way Nigel's breathing stuttered each time his eyes strayed to Thanos.
Zed leaned back in the velvet chair, legs crossed now, glass half-full but untouched. He didn't need a drink. He needed this, the stillness before a storm.
His eyes narrowed, savoring.
This wasn't like the others. Those bought bodies with fake gasps and dead eyes trying to imitate passion. They followed orders too eagerly, too theatrically. Everything looked like a scene from a low-budget reel.
This?
This was something else.
Nigel's thigh brushed against Thanos' knee.
Not planned.
Not invited.
Thanos didn't move. But his fingers curled just slightly into the mattress.
Zed saw it.
His smirk widened.
A breath. A pause. Then--
"Don't fake it."
Zed's voice cut through the air like a blade, low, precise.
Nigel jerked his head up, startled. Thanos tensed.
Zed's gaze held them both.
"I don't want your act. I've paid for those before."
He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, eyes glowing under the dim light.
"But this--" he nodded slightly toward the tension blooming between them--"this is what I want."
Thanos clicked his tongue. "You're twisted."
"You're still here."
Nigel swallowed hard.
He turned toward Thanos, this time closer. Their thighs fully touched. His hand, trembling slightly, reached toward Thanos' arm. Didn't grip, just hovered.
Waiting.
Thanos stared at it.
The heat from Nigel's skin felt unreal. And oddly, honest.
He didn't pull away.
Zed leaned back again, like a predator satisfied watching the prey circle one another.
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
But his chest rose with something that bordered on euphoria.
Finally.
Not a performance.
Not a puppet show.
But chemistry that burned on its own, needing no push, no lines to follow.
Just breath. Body. Glances sharp enough to cut.
And Zed would watch it all.
Thanos didn't mean to watch Nigel that closely.
But the second Zed spoke, commanding without a raise of voice, Nigel shivered. Not from fear, but from thrill. The kind that made his spine straighten, then melt.
Zed's gaze never left him. Nigel basked in it like sunlight, subtly arching his chest forward as if asking for more without a word.
Thanos saw it all.
And he snapped.
The mattress shifted.
In a breath, Thanos grabbed Nigel's wrist, not rough, but firm enough to pull his attention away from Zed.
"Are you enjoying this?" Thanos' voice was low, breath hot, eyes dangerous.
Nigel blinked, stunned.
But Thanos wasn't really asking for an answer.
He was staring at the way Nigel's lips parted slightly, how his breath caught, not from Zed this time, but him.
There it was.
That zap. That spark he thought didn't exist.
Thanos hated the way it hit. Like static in the dark. Unseen, but undeniable.
And instead of pushing it away…
He let it in.
His hand moved, from Nigel's wrist to his jaw, thumb brushing a line up to the cheekbone. Testing. Measuring.
Nigel froze, but not in resistance.
Thanos leaned in, closer than he intended. Close enough to feel the quickened rhythm of Nigel's breath against his neck.
"Then look at me like that," Thanos murmured, almost bitter.
He didn't even look back at Zed now. The world tunneled in, just him and this breathing, burning figure in his grip.
Zed didn't speak. But his grin widened, quiet satisfaction settling over him.
There it is.
He let himself get struck by lightning.
And Zed?
He'd savor every drop of the coming storm.