Nik, standing aloof, spits quickly to the side, spitting out of his mouth as sharply and far as Lis fires bullets from his musket.

Kors literally freezes in shock:

“Stop it,” he hisses, “put on your mask immediately!”

Kors knows that in the mask, even if Nik moves the lower shield as far forward and upward as possible, he still won’t be able to spit so valiantly. Nik, realizing that Kors is dissatisfied with him, squints slightly in his direction and quickly puts on his mask. And later, in their camping tent, Kors rips it off his face and hits his son on the lips with his palm, straight from the shoulder, backhand:

“Don’t you ever do that! Don’t you dare spit like a beast!” Kors yells at him.

Nik shrinks and tries to shield his lips with his palms, but doesn’t resist and remains silent. He doesn’t look at Kors, doesn’t raise his eyes, although his face expresses obvious displeasure. And Nik never spit on the ground or to the side in front of his father again.

They stood by the picturesque lake for three days, and Kors no longer remembers for what fault he makes Nik climb under their camp bed. He tells him that as punishment, Nik will lie there for exactly an hour, and lowers down a heavy cover of skins. Nik obediently and quietly lies on the floor, but Kors himself becomes very bored without him, and he barely maintains the allotted time. Barely waiting for the hour to finally pass, he abruptly lifts the covers, revealing his sweet boy. Nik lies face down on the floor, his face buried in his folded hands. He slightly raises his head, and, squinting from the light, tries to look at his father, and he frantically pulls him out and pulls him towards him, while hastily unzipping his fly with his other hand, and presses on the back of his head, pressing his face to his crotch.

Why is he recalling this now? It’s all over and there’ll be nothing more. But thoughts of Nik stubbornly spin in his head, endlessly playing the same melody, a song about lost love. Just like a hurdy-gurdy! Nik was right about it!

The same. One and the same, and so on in a circle. Ding. Ding. Ding…

Ding. Ding. Ding.

“Their room in the Fort. Nik sits on the bed and Kors moves his finger up, down, left, right. This way he restores his son’s vision and trains his eyes. Nik tries to follow his hand. Kors slowly brings his finger to the tip of his nose.

“Look!” He orders. “Look with both eyes at my finger!”

And Nik obediently shifts his eyes to the bridge of his nose, into a bunch, and it’s so funny and amusing that Kors, unable to restrain himself, begins to laugh. He shakes his head, pressing his hands to his chest and bursting into laughter, and Nik sits in front of him, shrinking, and, as usual, out of frustration, he sticks out his already plump lower lip a little forward, with his expression, provoking a new fit of fun and laughter in Kors. Nik looks at him reproachfully and with some resentment that Kors is making fun of him so openly.

And Kors pleads with him through laughter:

“Nik, Nik, honey, don’t pout, everything’s fine! You did it great. It was just so funny!”

But Nik doesn’t support Kors’ fun and continues to pout and twist his mouth.

Well, smile, smile! Kors asks him, and Nick stretches his lips into an artificial smile that looks more like a grin. This is how a tamed predator grins, obeying the owner, but demonstrating that he doesn’t like it when he teases him. And Nik, like a beast, snarling a little, “smiles”, showing fangs, while still not daring to disobey or bite. It only gives Kors another flush, and a minute later the cure is forgotten and Nik is moaning under him.

The next morning, Kors returns to treatment and says:

“Now let’s train your eyes again.”

And Nik starts to indulge and moves his eyes to the tip of his nose, or one eye to the nose, and the other, on the contrary, away from the bridge of the nose, strongly to the side. Kors doesn’t understand how he can do it so cleverly and funny, they both laugh. And, despite the fact that Nik is making faces and openly fooling around, he still remains incredibly charming and sweet, and Kors is unable to scold him for the disrupted lesson, and they love each other again.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Everything always happened passionately, violently, brightly. On the first run, Kors came very quickly, and only on the second and third time he could fuck Nik properly, and then he began to speed up again. As soon as he rested and took a break for a couple of hours, everything started all over again, and the first orgasm overwhelmed him literally instantly. Kors was constantly overused his cock till it bled, unable to stop in time, because he wanted Nik every minute. Without thinking about the consequences, he healed abrasions with strong remedies. Under drugs, it was not difficult, the pain from instant healing was almost not felt. Everything was great! Only too many strong stimulants, too many and often used, and now his potency said to him: “Goodbye.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Why does he continue? Not even specific situations are spinning in his head, but simply different moments associated with his boy: Nik turns his whole body towards him, instead of just turning his head, and casts a quick glance from under his brows, from the bottom up. Involuntary trembling of the hand. The clumsy gesture with which Nik tries to straighten his hair and keep his bangs out of his eyes, knowing that Kors gets annoyed when his hair obscures his face. The way his shoulders and perpetually disheveled top of his head sink down when Kors begins to scold him, calling him a drunkard and a brainless fool. At such moments, Nik’s eyes began to shine with tears, and each time it happens faster and faster. In the end, as soon as Kors began to read his lectures, Nik’s eyes were already wet. And for Kors, it was an unforgettably pleasant memory.