Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Fifteen | Fourth World

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He was welcomed by the embrace of Zephyr. A being which Fahren continued to be wary of, given System's timely absence. The exquisite being was the definition of temptation. He made the seemingly effortless act of falling deeply in love with him so simple. And someone who expected to be loved, was not someone Fahren considered his 'cup of tea'. Especially when suspected to know far more than he was letting on.

Feeling sluggish, whether from the alcohol or some other factor, Finch was at the mercy of the other man; if his identity and splendour could be confined to that simple pronoun. He felt dwarfed by the strength which simply seemed to ooze from the deity as he carried Finch across the magnificent grounds.

With one arm wrapped around Finch's waist, and the other hooked under his legs, Zephyr strode seamlessly from one side of the room to the other. He came to a stop beside the expansive, roman-style bathing area. Only on this occasion, the surroundings were slightly different. To one side, curtains billowed and a cacophony of orange, reds and yellows streamed through.

Finch recalled the man declaring how he controlled every square inch of the realm. So he could only suspect that there were certain reasons behind his choice of lighting. Everywhere else in the distance was if the shadows of the late afternoon had swallowed them whole. The only area where all attention was pooled towards, was where Zephyr intended them to go.

As if the stage had been set.

When he set him down, it was on the side of the bath. Even the mosaic tiles underneath his skin were warm to the touch. It helped keep Finch in a relaxed lull, a light sense of disorientation still present from the drink he previously consumed. But that didn't seem to concern the benevolent god as he, step by step, waded down and into the water.

Finch watched with gradually parting lips as the man brought his elegant hand towards the loose silky ribbon which held his skirt in place, and used his long green pointed nails to pull it apart. Carefree about clothes getting wet, the god allowed the milky coloured water, which maintained a floral scent, swallow the rags as he kept his attention ahead of him.

The water-level was low, exposing the tantalising hip lines belonging to the man. His torso, as if slick with oil, exuded a healthy shine which was picturesque. As he brought his hands upwards, his muscles flexed automatically as the talons raked through his light brown hair.

Opposed to sinking into the water, the long strands which flowed down the vision's back floated atop. Every element of the man's body and that around him, was within his control. He was ensuring Finch only saw the best of him. And to a mortal— or whatever Fahren currently was— it was hard to take in.

The deity was someone he wanted to lick and taste all over, and yet also want to stay away from and look on in wonder. But all of that couldn't take away from his gut feeling. Which he daren't think of too loud in fear of the person in front of him hearing it.

"So you are Zephyr?" Finch spoke softly as he carefully dipped his feet into the water. The sensation was one he quickly recalled, as the relief of the bath made tingles shoot up his legs. It was something that eased any aches and pains, a substance many in the real world would pay tens of millions to obtain a drop of.

In the middle of the bath, which began to form wisps of steam as it heated up, the owner of said name chuckled. A laughter devoid of the gentleness Fahren presumed a god would try and convey in order not to spook the cautious follower. But the being in front of him only cocked his head, a slight tug on the corner of his mouth expressing his amusement. "The one and only. Hearing my name come from your lovely mouth fills this old being with such joy."