The Mist and the Lightning. Part 18. Ви Корс
precious”. It seemed to Kors that at such moments Nik seemed to fall out of reality, and he was not with him at all and was not even in this world. There was no human, no Demon, no one. Still, Nik didn’t resist at all. He was silent and obeyed his father unquestioningly, got up, sat down and turned around as he was told, and for Kors it was decisive. He dressed him up, and finally he put a mask on his face anyway. It was Nik’s mask, which, upon returning to Fort, Kors immediately returned to him. From the very beginning, black glasses were inserted into the slits for the eyes, so that one didn’t have to put on black glasses on his face first, and only then the mask. Kors looked skeptically at his son, who had become faceless, and, after thinking a little, nevertheless took off his mask. He adjusted the hairpins that held his bangs once more.
“You don’t understand, Nik, how much I love you!” He said with inspiration in his voice. “After all, love is not only sex. Love is also tenderness and care, compassion for the feelings of a loved one and a desire to support him in everything.”
“Vitor, will I go without a mask?” Nik asked, seeing that Kors put it aside.
“Yes.”
“Then I need black glasses, it’s too light outside.”
“No.”
“Vi…”
“I said, no! That’s the limit! It’s ugly, shameful and doesn’t suit you!” Snapped Kors.
“But it’s hard for me without them,” Nik tried to argue, “from the bright sun my eyes hurt later. I have altered eyes…”
“Shut up, I don’t even want to listen to it!”
“To me sunlight is as if hot sand is thrown into my eyes. Then it hurts for a long time, and I can’t see well…”
“It’s not sunny at all,” Kors looked sideways at the window, seeing that behind the loosely covered shutters the bright sun was shining, “we won’t walk for long, bear with it.”
Nik fell silent in frustration, and Kors scrutinized him for the hundredth time.
“If not for this damn scar, now everything would be fine!”
“I…” Nik hesitated, crouched, lowering his eyes, the corners of his lips involuntarily crawled down, and a slightly swollen lower lip protruded forward amusingly, and Kors was invariably touched by this display of frustration: how cute, according to Kors, Nik pouted. Therefore, unable to restrain himself, Kors involuntarily laughed, this laugh forcing Nik to make a sad grimace even more.
Continuing to watch his son so sincerely upset, Kors swallowed as if he had swallowed something pleasant to him, tasty:
“Gods, how funny it is,” continuing to smile, Kors came close to him, and taking him by the forearm, lifted him from the chair, lifting him. Nik stood up immediately.
Hanging over him, Kors grabbed him by the face with his free hand, squeezing him tightly, digging his nails into his cheeks so that Nik’s lips protruded ugly forward.
Kors let go a little:
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, and Nik parted his lips immediately.
“Wider!”
Nik opened his mouth wider, and Kors could now see the ball gleaming in his tongue. Kors admired this and thrust his fingers into Nik’s mouth, pulled the ball up with his nails, so that the bar on which it was wound became visible. Kors pulled the jewelry towards him, and Nik shook his head a little, emitting a low, indistinct hum. Not paying any attention to this, Kors continued to pull, and Nik, due to the metal rod threaded through his tongue, inevitably had to reach for Kors’ fingers and almost stick his tongue out of his mouth.
“Do you love me?” Kors asked, continuing to pull on the piercing. Since Nik didn’t answer, he hastened him:
“Answer me! Immediately!”
“Hmm…”
“What? I haven’t understood! When will you learn to speak normally?”
“Y-yes…” by some miracle, Nik managed to pronounce. And Kors, smiling, let go of the jewelry, but didn’t remove his fingers, spreading Nik’s mouth to the sides with them, stretching his lips strongly, so that Nik felt pain again and closed his eyes. Kors, with pleasure that only he could understand, stuck his finger into the hole in the place of the knocked out tooth on Nik’s lower jaw, closing his eyes and as if remembering the moment when he knocked it out to his son. Removing his finger, he tugged at the nearby teeth, feeling how much they were loose. All this time Nik stood meekly in front of him with his mouth open, allowing Kors to touch his face, put his fingers in his mouth and pull his tongue, loosen his teeth. Finally, after playing enough, Kors pulled his fingers out of his mouth. Squeezing the base of Nik’s tail at the back of his head, he threw his head back, pulling him up so that Kors himself with his tall stature was more comfortable. Bending slightly, he pressed his lips to his, passionately kissing Nik and thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Nik immediately responded to his kiss, pressed against his father, hugging his waist. Kors continued to pull his hair up for his convenience, and Nik had to get up on his toes. Kors was the first to break the kiss and took his son by the chin, not allowing him to lower his thrown back head:
“Don’t you dare pout your lips and take offense at me, do you understand?” He pressed hard on his swollen lip, feeling that Nik hurt and he was contracting inside with pain, but endured. “I look forward to hearing.”
“Yes, yes,” Nik almost closed his eyes so as not to meet his father’s gaze. Kors finally released him. He looked pleased, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and went to the closet, opening it with his key, took out a bottle of strong alcohol, poured and handed Nik a glass:
“Here it is. Drink!”
Nik looked up at him in surprise, but immediately took the offered drink.
“How do you look! There is something animal in you, this look…” whispered Kors.
“Why are you giving me a drink? Do you reward me for obedience?”
“I just have nothing else to do. I noticed that you come alive when you drink. Then you are not silent, not so constrained, it seems to you that you become interested, but only as long as the alcohol is in you, and the rest of the time, as if nothing is interesting. As if it doesn't matter. But life is interesting! Or not?”
“Yes,” said Nik and drank the contents of the glass in one gulp.
“Too little?” Kors asked, watching him closely.
Nik glanced at Kors in disbelief, but nevertheless answered cautiously:
“Yes.”
“There was exactly one hundred grams there.”
“Can I have some more?”
“Isn’t this enough for you?”
Nick said nothing, but everything was clear without words.
“I know you won’t even feel anything now,” Kors remarked sadly, “as if you hadn’t drunk anything. This addiction is very bad… you drink every day, every day… And I’m afraid not to let you drink, because abrupt refusal from alcohol can lead to bad consequences.”
Kors poured him the same amount:
“Come on, drink. Gods, what am I to do with you…”
“Thanks,” Nik said and drank.
“There have never been drunks in our family,” Kors shook his head, “and you are a drunkard.”
“Don’t you drink your own wine yourself? You love it so much and you drink it every evening…”
“Nik, better shut up!”
And Nik immediately fell silent.
“Cassiel is a very experienced doctor,” Kors changed the subject, “he will help you, as he did last time.”
“Casi…” Nik frowned, he literally shuddered, “here are these names again…”
“Yes.