The last jolts of pleasure dissolved into the silence, and Talha withdrew. Not a single thought inhabited his mind, chased away by his maddened pulse. When his throbbing vision focused, the reality of his actions crashed down. Slater’s knuckles blanched white as he clasped the carpet pile. His hips trembled, the puddles of cum marred the Persian carpet, Talha’s cum drenched down Slater's balls, as the bruised, bloody face grinned up at him.
“Slater was wrong. Master is fine. Master will do.”
Bitter taste filled Talha’s mouth. His eyes burned, skin crawled. He zipped himself up, and slowly, fighting through the dense air, entered the shisha lounge.
His nerves tight, but not even once did he look back to check if Slater was okay. Guilt, regret, and revulsion mixed into the deadliest poison that now corroded his blood.
With shaky hands, he put on a coal stove and added in a couple of coal cubes. Setting up a hookah, he stuffed the bowl with a mix of tobacco and cannabis, added water from a carafe into the water jar, before combining it all. He waited and waited, refusing to look back at the result of his actions. The moiré coal streaked with red and silver, trapping his gaze and emptying his head. He wished time would stop so he wouldn’t need to think about what he had done.
A steady, red glow settled in the coals. Talha picked up tweezers, picked the first cube and placed it on top of the bowl, then added two more. Grabbing the hose, he squeezed the mouthpiece with his lips and sucked. It took him around ten inhales to reach the thick, acrid smoke. He held it in his lungs as long as he could, wanting the emotional numbness to come sooner. Sinking onto the carpets covering the floor of the shisha lounge, he propped his elbows against his knees and rested his head over his clasped hands. For a moment, everything stopped mattering.
I fucked him… Or was it rape? I wasn’t even drunk, yet I did it. I wanted to hurt him so bad that I got turned on. How sick is that?
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before a soft rustle touched his ears. Talha lifted his chin. On all fours, Slater waited in front of him watching his every move. His left eye swollen closed; his puffy lips resembled a messy open wound oozing with blood. Slater would have looked pathetic, but the glowing flames in his right eye and his predatory, bloody smile brought to his features a demonic look.
“I can smell your hatred in the air. Hate fucks are the best, aren’t they? Master was so good, so passionate.” Slater’s hand stepped forward. “Did Master feel good?”
“Stay where you are,” Talha warned, rubbing his temples with his fingers, thick veins pulsing under his tips.
I should kill him. His gaze shot up and fixed on the top drawer of his nightstand where he kept his gun; too far to get there fast.
“Huh? Master is looking for a gun…” Slater didn’t ask but stated, and Talha dragged his attention upon the ripper.
Slater’s forehead wrinkled as a serious expression crawled up his face. The demonic look of his right eye shot through Talha’s defense. The black hole of Slater’s dilated pupil sucked out his soul, and Talha realized—there was no point in lying. Slater already knew everything.
“What, did I say it out loud?”
“Master is funny. So honest.” Slater’s head snapped to the side as a wide grin settled over his face. “Slater made a decision. The trial period is over, Master.”
Slater’s hand followed the zigzag of his right leg and drew out the black throwing knife from the top of his boot. Talha’s vision focused on the light-absorbing, matte surface, then jumped to the twist of Slater’s raw lips.
Is this how I’m gonna die? Talha couldn’t tell if it was cannabis that shushed his fear, or if he was too exhausted to care, but his heart didn’t halt when the blade reached his chest and stopped at the notch of his throat.
Slapping Slater’s hand away with a careless gesture, Talha said, “If you intend to use it—do it, but don’t make empty threats or I’ll think you are pathetic.”
Slater’s single-visible eye blazed with curiosity. “What do I do? I really like Master, but Master wants to kill Slater. That won’t do…”
The smile dimmed, and his canine tooth sank into his puffy bottom lip.
“Here you go, Master. Let’s settle it.” Flipping the knife in his palm, Slater offered it to Talha haft forward. Talha didn’t take it, and Slater’s scorching fingers clasped around his hand, shoving the warm metal into his palm. Curling Talha’s fingers in a fist, Slater guided the knife up to his own throat. “Do it…”
The edge of the knife scratched Slater’s throat, as the reaper drew it up and outlined his chin, a red trail stretching behind. His lips parted, and his pink tongue, slipping out, flicked over the blade as it leveled with his lips. Body heat rising, Talha watched Slater’s tongue curl around the edge. Killing Slater now would be so easy. He just had to sink the knife into the willing mouth, and Slater would choke on blood. All his problems would be solved. There would be no murders in his house. No one would watch him sleep, get into his bed, or threaten Ejder. No one would get Iblīs either. His life would return to normal. Then why was he wavering? Slater couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be reasoned with. He was a ticking time bomb with a broken timer, but even knowing it, Talha couldn’t drive the knife in Slater’s mouth. He wasn’t’ sure what drained his anger but scanning the transparent eye, that glowed with determination and hope, he felt no hatred only crushing weariness.
I don’t get him… He tried to kill me not long ago, now he offers me his life. He’s unstable and should be put down, then why can’t I kill him? That would solve my problem. That would solve Ejder’s problem. Maybe it would even solve Slater’s problem, but how can I kill him when he does something like this?
Never dropping his focus from Talha, Slater licked the edge of the knife, and blood mixed with saliva. Talha cringed.
“What the fuck are you doing? Stop!” He tried to release his fingers, but Slater’s hands clasped around his palm, guiding the blade deeper into his tongue.
Without thinking, Talha thrust his other thumb into Slater’s mouth, sliding it under the blade, over the tongue, and hissed as the knife bit into his knuckle.
The smile evaporated from Slater’s face, giving way to a weird, unreadable expression. His fingers released Talha’s armed hand, then clasped over the other, and rapacious lips closed around the thumb. The lacerated tongue lapped over Talha’s skin, mixing their blood. A heavy pink touched Slater’s cheeks, dropping the eyelid of his healthy eye closed, as he craned his neck lavishing Talha’s digit with his eager mouth.
“Huh? Isn’t that funny? Now we are blood-bound, Master.”
It took Talha a moment to come around before he snatched his hand away. “This is gross…”
Slater licked his lips, then grinned. “Slater made up his mind. Slater stays.”
“No,” Talha said as hard as he could. “Slater doesn’t. You leave, or one of us dies.”
“Master could have killed Slater, but Master didn’t. Master is kind. Slater realized that to have a perfect master, Slater has to mold him. All the others were failures because they were established, but Master is young. Master is good material. Master can be what Slater needs.”