As Hayde finished his shower, he returned to the room and put his clothes back on.
Kinzer held the ropes he planned to bind Hayde in once again.
Hayde grimaced.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped.
He rushed at Kinzer. His speed and clenched fists made Kinzer think he might just start laying into him.
Kinzer gripped his sword tight. If Hayde wanted to hit him out of rage, that was fine. He deserved that, but if he tried anything, he’d cut him.
Hayde stopped before him, leaning his head back, displaying his stitches, the zigzags of red that lined either side of his nose.
“This? Huh? You like your fucking work? Is that it? You’ve been looking at it all fucking day long. What about it? It’s still there. It’s always gonna be there, you fucking bastard.”
Guilt washed over Kinzer once again. He had noticed that, on occasion, he would find himself staring at Hayde’s wounds, but not because they were hideous, but because he felt so terrible about what he’d done.
“I guess you don’t have to worry anymore,” he continued. “Janka sure as fuck won’t fuck me now. No one will.”
While he understood Hayde’s feelings, even with his face carved up, there was something about Hayde—something enchanting, hypnotic… something that Kinzer couldn’t explain but that made him just as irresistible as before. And as much as it aroused him, it frustrated him even more.
Hayde sniffled, clearly trying to maintain his composure.
It was too much for Kinzer. An overwhelming impulse possessed him and thrust him forward.
What am I doing?
But he couldn’t stop himself.
Hayde jumped back, readying his fists, but Kinzer was too quick for him to react. He pressed his lips against Hayde’s and wrapped his arms around him.
He’s gonna kill me for this.
He didn’t. He kissed back, his hand caressing the back of Kinzer’s head.
Was this a trick? Or had Kinzer’s assault left him feeling so insecure that any sort of physical affection was enough to quench his thirst for validation?
Kinzer didn’t care, because in that moment, all he wanted was to be with Hayde… to fill him… to show him that he wasn’t the monster he thought he was.
Kinzer massaged Hayde’s cheeks with his thumbs, stroking and caressing.
He tossed his sword aside. If Hayde went for it, he figured he wouldn’t have a problem beating the shit out of him.
He opened his mouth as wide as he could—like he needed to devour the response Hayde provided.
They clung to each other, pulling together in a tight embrace.
Hayde stroked his hands across Kinzer’s back.
Kinzer couldn’t understand. Hayde loathed him. And he certainly didn’t have any reason to feel anything for Hayde.
He pressed his hands against the wall behind Hayde and pushed back, resisting what, to him, was an incomprehensible experience.
But as he pulled back, he saw a look of disappointment in Hayde’s eyes. It seemed he was thinking, “Is it because of how I look now?” And he wasn’t going to give the immortal another moment to consider that possibility.
He wrapped his arms back around him, forcing their bodies together and pressing his lips against Hayde’s.
He’s so stupid. How can he think he’s anything other than this wonderful creation? How can he think these scars mean anything when he has something far more enchanting about him than just his appearance? But is it just a trick? Is he trying to trap me again?
