Flight School: Predator

Blind Sight

The moment he returned to his room, Luka Sullivan's first thought was to undress and let be but out of desire's control and within his own, he didn't. Incense drove the eagle to slam his fist into the door he had closed moments before, feeling the side of his fist throb immensely slow—resembling the flow of blood elsewhere. He knew perfectly where.

Furious with himself and yet weakened, once more, by the bouts of lust that lingered upon the sleeve of his shirt, Luka decided that a bath was due.

With great effort, he tore his eyes away from the bed, looking instead towards the private bathroom in which he and the vulture shared. The mere thought of Vaughn quelled his desires, allowing the eagle to turn the lock and begin to undress with a quiet mind.

Minutes passed.

Luka barely registered himself standing in the middle of the bathroom, staring into the reflection of his naked body. He caught a glimpse of unrest in the embers of his eyes—sparked once more by the scent that clung to his shirt, refusing to fade. His pupils sharpened to a gold, resembling the setting sun which only served to remind him of the rising moon.

Silver.

The eagle closed his eyes and leaned against the marble countertop, pausing to breathe. He felt the muscles on his back tense at the image in his mind, receiving more invitations which he knew he had to decline.

He stepped into the bath, forgetting to draw the curtains as he turned on the shower. Cold.

Although chilled by the startling drops of ice on his skin, Luka felt as though there was a cloud of heat filling the bath as the minutes passed, tempering with his head. It was hard to tell which part of the world was perceived and which, independent.

He found himself going with the former—only because it was something Io would have suggested. After all, everything was filtered through the eyes and thus, the mind. It must, therefore, be that he was dreaming. Imagining things. A conjuring of desires to form an ideal; an illusion.

The bar of soap smelled, to him, like bed. The tiles; the bath, even the water—scented. He closed his eyes on the world and waited in the dark, listening only to the beat of the creature within his cage. Everything else was null, almost insignificant in comparison to the rising heat that gathered at his waist.

The muscles on his lower abdomen hardened. His hands rose to brace himself against the wall, droplets of water running down his back while his breathing turned slightly uneven.

In that instance, Luka vaguely recalled a note of relief. One that was grateful for the loneliness of mind, in which was a place that belonged only to him and no one else. This was a place he left untouched, a forgotten room within that he had not visited in a while.

Confirming that it was locked, he stepped inside—leaving the world behind, breaking his Link. No one was to enter.

What he found in the room, however, was company.

The one who had been waiting for him.

Roused, a hand of his slipped from the wall and began to grope in the dark, resembling the control he once had over his creature. Slipping.