“Damn usual slut,” whispered Kors, even somehow disappointed.
And Arel tried to smile.
“Damn noble slut!” Kors pounced on him, squeezing, hugging, again looking for his mouth and sucking in so that the cork suddenly gave way and jumped out of his lip. Kors froze, recoiling, pulling it out of his mouth. Arel clutched his lip, feeling how it was. And Kors only now heard some vague snatches of his thoughts: “No, no, he will kill me”. Arel was afraid of the Demon, and this was the first time Kors heard it so clearly. Arel was afraid of Nikto, he was afraid of him for a long time and more than Kors, somehow differently, because he knew much more about Nikto.
“Nothing will happen,” Kors quickly tried to calm him down, “I'll put it back. Say something, why are you keeping quiet all the time?”
“Return everything as it was,” Arel whispered, “we can't…”
“I will put it back.”
Kors pulled Arel up:
“Get out!”
They lay down on a soft carpet. Kors leaned on Arel, pressing his erect cock to the perfect dark-skinned torso with smooth silky skin. The prince’s face was a disfigured mask, but the body remained the same. Firm, young, strong body with prominent muscles. Perfect proportions. Kors was amazed at its safety, despite constant use, unlike the face, the prince’s body was not damaged so catastrophically, and the tattoos didn’t spoil it. Kors stroked the thin, light stripes of scars on the hard stomach, he remembered them, and Arel almost died then, stroked a small curved burn on his chest.
“Where does it come from?” Kors asked. “I noticed it a long time ago, and you didn’t have this scar before.”
“I got burned being drunk,” Arel answered.
“How was it to be contrived, Arel?”
“I lit from a fireplace poker.”
Kors tried to grasp his thoughts at this moment, and really “saw” a red-hot, curved tip of a small fireplace poker in the prince’s hand. The vision was very blurry and short-lived. Kors didn’t catch either the pain of the burn or any motives explaining Arel’s act. It looked like he was really drunk.
“You ruined such beautiful skin, what a fool!” Said Kors regretfully, removing his fingers from the burn, moving his hand lower, caressing Arel’s cock, and seeing how pleased the prince was. He rubbed his cock on him and gently stroked, slightly jerking off both heads at once, pressing them as close as possible to each other. He pushed Arel down, guiding and spreading his knees bent, sitting on his face.