Chapter Text
The lovers are a pair. One cannot exist without the other. When one half disappears, the other half will follow.
The lovers are like leeches. They rely heavily on the other. They absorb their counterpart’s energy, leaving them dried and deserted.
The lovers are co-dependent. The lovers are parasites.
≪ ❈ ≫
The basement hatch unlocked with a resounding thud, its heavy sound reverberating through the dark underground. The sudden noise pierced through the still silence like a gunshot, jolting its unwilling inhabitant from her hopeless spiral.
Animalistic instincts pulled Flora to the back of the cage, shoulder blades pressing against the crisscrossed wires until an imprint blossomed beneath the fabric. Red rimmed her lids as trembling gaze cast from beneath thick lashes, focus sharp with wariness and fear.
At the top of the stairs, a swath of light painted the dingy wall. A shadow quickly outlined itself, expanding as heavy steps descended the wooden flight.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Following every footfall were the whines of the floorboard: Creak. Creak. Creak.
Her muscles pulled taut. Like a drawn arrow, she was ready to pounce, to flee.
However, the cage ensnaring Flora kept her rooted.
She wished the darkness would swallow her whole, conceal her existence from the approaching entity. The cage was much too small for a human to reside in, yet too bare for the cornered prey to hide and escape pursue with.
The rackety groans of wood eventually caved to the soft collision between cladded feet and stone ground. The balls of the feet sliding against the floor sparked resonating friction. With their trajectory turned, footsteps continued their trek.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The skin of her arms sank with the weight of the wired cage. The four walls, ceiling and ground closed in with their checkered patterns, cutting off any possible route for escape. Without room to hide or run, Flora could only watch helplessly as a figure presented before her.
“Good day, Ms Jacobs.”
The visitor was a man donned fully in black, imposing figure looming over the cramped cage. He stood amidst the shadows, darkness stretching out behind him like squirming tendrils. A sharp smile graced his lips and a crystal monocle glinted threateningly over his right eye. He was a poised guillotine, shining eyewear and cutting expression ready to swoop towards the confined woman at any second.
Her exhales escaped in a swift and heavy fashion, inhales rapid and shallow. Oxygen failed to claw into her lungs before being expelled, trepidation lacing every breath through her wobbling lips.
The man tilted his head. Raising a hand, he adjusted the monocle. He crouched to her level, extending an arm towards the cage door.
Metal grated against metal, shrill noise screeching in the quiet. Every scratch halted one beat of her heart, agitation pumping adrenaline through tense body. Dread spilled across the expanse of her back, raising goosebumps and plummeting the temperature.
The bolt slapped against the wall—clang. The hinges squealed as the door swung open.
Flora could attempt an escape. She could rush out now, push the man aside and beeline for the stairs. The springs in her body were compressed to their limits, ready to bounce apart at a command.
Flora did not move. She did not know where they were. She did not know the layout of the house. It was possible that the cage door opening was a test from the man. He could well be prepared to stop her mid-track, or ready to watch her despair when she realises civilisation was out of reach.
Flora met a pair of abyss. They stared at each other. Seconds ticked into minutes. Silence smothered the basement, filling her lungs and deafening her ears.
His razor smile never disintegrating, the man slowly placed an item down on the floor.
Clunk.
Flora snapped her eyes to the source. She froze as she realised what now sat before her.
It was a plate of food.
She did not realise he had been carrying that.
“It’s meal time~”
Flora was a statue, body stiff and unmoving as the cage door swayed shut. The bolt flicked in place, sealing the prisoner’s only exit once more.
With his chin braced on both hands, black eyes lingered on Flora. Observance and curiosity traced the plane of her stationary figure. He was a scientist waiting for a reaction from his test subject, gaze scrutinising and calculative.
Flora dared not move a muscle. The plate in front of her lay as a temptation—a trap to lure her into comfort. Her traitorous stomach growled in need, but her arms remained glued to her sides.
The minutes passed by slowly.
A pout broke out. The man frowned, enquiring, “Aren’t you hungry?”
Flora thinned her lips. Slender fingers grasped the wires beneath her. Cuts zigzagged the dermis. The pain was pronounced, seeping deep to the bones. It quickly numbed, growing accustomed to the injury.
A sigh slipped from the man. Long legs extending, he stood.
“I’ll come back for the plate in an hour.”
Footsteps rapped the stone floor, leaving behind soft taps. They reached the bottom of the stairs, climbing the wooden flight unhurriedly. The squeaks grew softer as the figure ascended, eventually arriving at the entrance.
At last, a resonant bang filled the basement. The ensuing darkness was accompanied by the echoing click of the hatch locking.
The shadows greeted Flora in its cold embrace again.
≪ ❈ ≫
On the porch was a cushioned bench. Atop the furniture was a man. Curled within a thick comforter, he stared into the distance. His brown gaze reflected the golden sunset, swirling in hues of yellow and hazel. Mind adrift and vision unseeing, he idly recounted the events of the day.
The hinges of the front door groaned, followed by gentle footfalls. The wooden frame closed lightly as the steps stopped beside the wrapped figure.
A presence occupied the space beside the watcher. Hot breath fanned his ear and cheek. The voice floating through the air was youthful and playful.
“A penny for your thoughts, my dear?”
Focus returned to the chocolate eyes, expressionless gaze gliding towards the source. Ebony hair and abyssal eyes came into view, crystal monocle reflecting the glow of the sinking star. A suave smirk tugged the corner of his lips, awaiting the watcher’s answer.
He parted his lips, voice mellow and detached. “Just wondering where my little raven went.”
The movements were slight—the back straightening, the smile widening, the eyes narrowing. A coo whistled between the monocled man’s lips. Leaning close to the watcher, a firm and saccharine kiss was planted to his cheek.
“My dear Klein is so adorable~”
A hum vibrated his throat. Brown gaze followed the man who stood, facing him. His arms spread open, inviting the watcher for a hug.
No words were exchanged. Mimicking the monocled man, Klein lifted his arms. In a fell swoop, the bundled watcher was carried off the bench. Kept warm by the fluffy quilt, lithe arms wrapped his partner’s neck, face burying into the crook.
A chuckle rumbled the monocled man’s chest. Measured steps brought him and his swaddled dear to the ajar entrance. Stepping into the cosiness, the wooden door swung shut behind them.
As footsteps approached the stairs, Klein spoke, “Where did you go, Amon?”
One foot on the first step, his little raven answered, “Just checking on a resilient flower.”
The hum emitted was non-committal.
Black eyes glanced at his enveloped dear. Relaxed and secured, the resemblance with a snug cat was uncanny. A swift peck on the crown was treated, prompting a hum of satisfaction.
On the upper floor, Amon questioned, “How’s your project coming?”
The roots of his hair tickled. Klein toyed with his black strands. He appeared to be a distracted cat, unaware of the enquiry posed.
The footsteps halted before a door. Adjusting the bundled cat, Amon reached for the knob.
One twist and the wooden frame oscillated inward.
Klein’s voice permeated the quietude. “I’ve hit a roadblock.”
Arm retreating to support his covered dear, deliberate steps travelled past the threshold. In front of their shared bed, Klein was lowered like a sleeping baby. Chocolate gaze instantly landed on Amon, who met the pair with an endeared smirk.
“I can help you with that.”
A head tilt. “How will you do that?”
A chuckle. Then, a sneaky smooch on the nose. Klein’s face scrunched. Amon’s heart melted.
“I have my ways.”
Klein did not ask further. Gripping his little raven’s wrist, he tugged forward. Amon went with the flow, landing beside his dear.
Their bodies scooted close, seeking warmth and protection. A sigh tumbled from Klein’s lips, snuggling against Amon’s chest like a contented cat.
“I’m sleepy,” whispered Klein.
“I know,” murmured Amon, grazing his knuckles against a soft cheek.
Brown eyes fluttered closed, head sinking into the soft pillow.
“I’ll take a quick nap.”
“Okay.” Amon knew it would not be quick.
“Wake me up when it’s midnight.”
“Alright.” Amon had no plans to follow through.
“Love you, little raven.”
The voice drifted to a mumble. His subconscious talked on autopilot.
There was no instantaneous response. Amon kissed Klein on his forehead. There was nary a stir.
“Love you too, my dear fool.”
≪ ❈ ≫
“You didn’t eat again.”
Not a glance was spared at the monocled man. A sigh came from his direction. The metallic clangs of the bolt unlocking chimed.
Ceramic skidded against checkered wires, shrill noise pervading the eerie hush. Through an askance glance, the filled plate disappeared. The hinges of the cage door squealed, then came a bang, proceeding with the bolt locking in place.
The next sound was a voice—croaky from disuse, low with fear. “Why are you doing this?”
The query hung heavy, dangling like the dead. The cold walls echoed the sentence, rebounding it to her ears. The words ricocheted inside her brain, amplifying the tinnitus assaulting her hearing.
Just as the silence became maddening, the young maleficent voice rang out.
“For love.”
Flora switched her gaze to the man. The smile on his face stretched from one ear to the other. Black eyes turned upwards, shaping thin crescents.
“This is not love.”
Her voice dripped with exasperation, desperation. Scenes from horror movies and news outlets surfaced. To think a day would come with such scenario occurring to Flora.
The articulate words strung on the tip of her tongue crumbled from the monocled man’s mere two words: “I know.”
Thoughts slipping to a pause, Flora’s stare was one of befuddlement. The expression stirred an amused laugh out of the man. Condescension imbued his stretched lips, crystal monocle glinting alongside the void eyes.
“You thought so highly of yourself. How adorable.”
No time was provided for Flora to reply. The uneaten plate of food steadied in one hand, the man stood.
“The next meal is in ten hours. Hold on until then.”
Leaving the remark to stew in Flora’s musings, the monocled man retreated through the steps he arrived from.
The basement returned to its dark and silent state.
≪ ❈ ≫
“Have you seen this person? Her name is Flora Jacobs. She’s a teacher at Reror High School.”
Brown gaze drifted to the sole image on the white sheet. Depicted in the photo was a lady in twenties, smile radiant towards the lens. Above in big and bold was the capitalised text “Missing”, while below in order were the name, characteristics and phone number.
Klein’s attention shifted to the flyer distributor—a young female teen with black hair that shone green and chocolate eyes which shimmered brightly.
Regret dragged the shake of his head, slowing its movements. Disappointment tinged the sigh expelling from her lungs, but understanding weighed in her nod.
“Do call the number if you find any clues, any at all.”
Klein’s chin dipped with acknowledgement. A smile tugged half-heartedly on the teen’s lips before she passed him by. Light footsteps receded when brown gaze moved back to the thin poster, concentration suffusing careful analysis.
Along the empty sidewalk, he stood as a sculpture carved from marble. Delicate features furrowed with attentiveness, engrossed in his study of the portrait. Lips pursed vaguely, brows pinched faintly, chocolate eyes focused.
A figure materialised by Klein’s side, imitating his line of sight to the notice paper. Adjusting the crystal monocle on his right eye, a low whistle blew from his mouth. The smirk pulling the corners lacked sympathy and concern.
“She looks interesting. Reminds me of a flower.”
Chocolate gaze turned to Amon. “What kind of flower?”
Stygian orbs fixed on Klein, smirk unchanging.
“Butterfly weed.”
A hum was returned. Then, a quiz. “What flower am I then?”
There was an instinctive coo. Warm palms grasped supple cheeks. Black met brown.
“Red camellia.”
A slight head tilt made Klein lean one-sidedly into a palm. “Is that so?”
The wide smile Amon flashed shone brilliantly.
“You’re a salvia for me. Red too.”
The gasp Amon let out carried a flair of dramatics. “Really?”
A short nod. The smile drew wider.
Arms wrapped around Klein’s bicep. A tuft of ebony strands nuzzled against his face. The sprightly voice exhibited thrill and contentment.
“I love you, my dear!”
There was an indiscernible spasm at the corners of Klein’s mouth. Lifting a hand, slim fingers ran through ebony locks.
“I love you too, my little raven.”
≪ ❈ ≫
A loud thud rang as the basement door opened, heralding the arrival of her captor. Heavy footsteps climbed down the stairs, releasing a chain of thump, thump, thump.
Flora’s gaze glued to the monocled man as he arrived at the final step. Just as he was halfway across the dark room, not yet reaching the cage confining her, she opened her mouth.
“You live with your lover?”
A head tilt was the reply to her question. Adjusting the crystal monocle, he smiled.
When his lips parted, mockery broke out. “Took you long enough to realise.”
Time was long lost while underground. Through the rotation of mealtime, Flora suspected four nights had passed.
Ignoring the jab, she bargained, “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done. Your lover won’t know anything about me.”
The monocled man came to a stop in front of the cage.
Without sparing a second, she continued, “Aren’t you worried that your lover will find out? The longer I stay here, the likelier she’ll know about me. If you let me go now—or soon, she won’t even realise I’ve been here!”
Desperation imbued her voice with every word spilled. Realising her emotions slipping, Flora inhaled sharply. No exhale escaped, breath held in anticipation as she waited for her captor’s reaction.
One second. Two second.
“‘She’?”
A beat passed. Confusion left Flora speechless, mind whirring from the simple question.
“… he?”
A smile elongated his lips.
Flora made short work in composing herself. She spoke as if she was not stumped just now. “If you let me go, he won’t know about what you’ve done.”
The monocled man cast his gaze elsewhere, expression ruminative as he tapped his chin. Flora watched this scene, her traitorous heart holding out hope.
She should know better. When her captor returned his eyes on her, the smirk on his face made her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.
“No, I don’t think I’ll let you go.”
Flora opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was at a loss for what to say. Her eyes soon misted over, unsure of how to feel or respond.
The monocled man appeared satisfied with her bewildered silence. With a nod, hum and a smile which never left his countenance, he knelt and opened the cage door.
“Your meal.”
A plate of food was served once more. Atop the ceramic were noodles in thick and creamy sauce coupled with meat and vegetable chunks. No steam arose from the dish.
“I sure hope you’ll eat this. I wouldn’t want my dear fool’s hard work to go to waste.”
Flora stared at the plate before her. Despite the appetising appearance of the dish, her stomach was too twisted to feel hunger or a desire to eat.
Locking the cage door again, the monocled man announced, “Enjoy your meal~”
Clothes rustled as he stood. Turning on the balls of his feet, he advanced towards the staircase.
Flora maintained her silence until the basement door shut her in the darkness once more.
≪ ❈ ≫
Soft chatters filled the space of the grocery store, accompanied by the occasional skid of a trolley rolling by. The cash counter chimed with the beeps of items being scanned and the dings of goods being bought. The sliding door jingled with every entrance or exit, piping with an automated voice announcing “Welcome”.
Klein passed multiple aisles, a heavy basket swinging by his side. He took one peek at the passageways before moving to the next, brows furrowed with confusion as he went.
“Where did he go?”
To his right were refrigerators containing frozen goods like packaged meats or vegetables, cartoned liquids and boxed pizzas. To his left were rows of shelves arranged with a variety of products, ranging from dry food to cleaning brands.
In all the walkways he proceeded past, there stood patrons of different sizes, heights and colours. There were those of dark skin, those of Asian descent and those of red hair.
However, no matter their appearances, Klein could not spot the familiar black curly hair, black eyes and crystal monocle.
He soon reached the end of the path. Turning to the left, Klein took the next available path and continued the search of his partner.
Once at the last shelf, Klein glanced at the open space to his left. His steps stuttered to a stop as familiarity entered his vision.
There Amon was, standing among low fridge boxes, studying the content of one.
Klein made one move forward. Then, he noticed a presence by his partner’s side.
The person was a man. He was as tall as Amon. He was burly, big and wide. His chin was covered with a thick beard, the same colour as his dark blonde hair.
Klein slowed his advancement. He watched the scene quietly, stoic expression betraying none of his thoughts.
He eventually drew close enough to hear their conversation.
“… she’s so bossy. I can’t even breathe in the house without her telling me what to do. ‘Jean, please help me with the dishes!’ ‘Jean, please take out the trash.’ Can you believe that?”
“That sounds tough.” Amon’s smooth voice quipped, tone indifferent to the stranger’s plight.
The man let out a defeated sigh, leaning against the low fridge box. “I just wish she could shut up for one day. Just now, she told me to get groceries, so here I am.”
Amon turned his head, eyes anywhere but on the man. Yet, his words were directed at the stranger when he talked. “You don’t seem like you’re getting groceries.”
The man stared at Amon for a good second. Then, he chuckled. “Yeah, I was walking around when I saw something that caught my attention.”
The stranger moved his hand. The action was slow, inching closer to Amon. One of the monocled man’s hands was on the edge of the low fridge box, where the stranger’s palm was sliding towards.
“And,” drawled the man. “I was wondering if this thing that caught my attention would be interested in—”
“Raven?”
Both Amon and the stranger turned to the voice. The latter was out of reaction from the proximity of the call, while the former wore a delighted expression as he instantly recognised the gentle cadence.
“My dear! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” remarked Amon as his arms spread wide.
Klein walked into the open invitation and gave his partner a quick hug, a soft hum, then pointed out. “You seem pretty interested in the fridge just now though.”
“That’s because I found your favourite ice cream flavour,” reported Amon as he stepped back, motioning to the inside of the low fridge box. “Over here!”
Klein followed the gesture and looked inward, noticing a box of chocolate-coated vanilla popsicles which Amon signalled at. “You’re right. That is my favourite ice cream.”
A broad smile was carved upon Amon’s countenance. He appeared proud and expectant.
Wordlessly and without prompting, Klein reached a hand up to pat his tall partner’s head of ebony curls. “You did well. Thank you.”
Amon grinned. “Hehe~”
Brown gaze shifted, landing on the stranger who had gone quiet.
The man looked displeased, face red with embarrassment as he glowered. His glare bore into the back of Amon’s head, the latter of which was unfazed by the heated stare. Klein guessed that the man believed Amon to have led him on, assuming that he had been taken for a fool.
The man glanced at Klein after noticing the latter’s attention on him. His whole body jolted as his eyes widened. Surprise flashed in his eyes as the colour drained from his face.
He looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Excuse me.” The man coughed and turned around, walking away from the couple.
Amon looked behind him when he caught footsteps retreating. Shifting his focus back on Klein, he smiled and cooed, “Dear, you shouldn’t scare our guests.”
Klein glanced at Amon. His brows furrowed in puzzlement. “I didn’t do anything.”
Amon chuckled and ruffled Klein’s hair. The latter swayed with the force, but otherwise maintained his expressionless visage. Only after his partner retracted his hand did he lift a palm to tidy the messy strands, despite the futileness of the attempt.
Amon nodded in the direction of the cashiers. “Shall we get going?”
Klein lowered his hand, nodding his head. “Yes, we shall.”
Amon beamed. “Okay~”
With a swift slide of hand, the monocled man retrieved the box of ice cream they had been eyeing minutes prior and placed it in the basket which the short brunette was carrying. Then, holding the latter’s free hand, the former tugged him towards the entrance, where the cash counters were.
A brief glance was tossed in the direction where the stranger had departed towards. Then, the couple turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
≪ ❈ ≫
“I could scream right now.”
The monocled man paused. His hand was extended into the cage, gripping the edge of a plate. On top of the platter were a generous serving of rice, curry with diced potato and carrot, and a neatly chopped piece of deep fried chicken chop. The food remained untouched since its initial presentation.
With his free hand, he adjusted his crystal monocle. Tilting his head, he challenged, “Then scream.”
Flora parted her lips. However, a scream did not ensue. Her constricted throat prevented even a sliver of noise from breaking out, tightening chest closing in on her beating heart. It was a claustrophobic sensation, one that refused to bring air into her lungs—instead filling her whole system with adrenaline of fear.
The monocled man stared at her. She returned the intense gaze. Neither spoke.
He raised a brow, nodding his head. He was anticipating the action, posture expectant. He waited patiently for her to take on the challenge.
Five seconds passed in utter silence.
At last, the monocled man broke the quiet with a sigh of disappointment. “I had hope you would follow through.”
He took the plate of food out of the cage before closing the door, locking it again.
Instead of leaving immediately, the monocled man settled the dish on the ground beside him. Taking a seat, he faced his ensnared captive.
Under the heavy gaze, Flora shifted. Discomfort and awkwardness pulled her muscles taut. She shrank beneath the stare, looking back at the man warily.
“W-What do you want?” She dared to ask.
The monocled man smiled. Sitting with his legs crossed, he rested the right elbow on his knee. Then, with his upright arm, he propped his chin against the knuckles. Not once did he tear his eyes away from the confined lady.
A few minutes passed with him just observing Flora. He did not utter a single word, merely keeping his eyes fixed on her. Anxiety creeped up her lungs, clawing at her throat. However, she swallowed the lump forming in her throat, pushing back whatever frustration or agitation that threatened to spill past her lips.
She did not know how much time ticked by. Finally, the monocled man spoke, “I have some guesses on why you haven’t called for help until now.”
Flora furrowed her brows. What did it matter to the captor the reasons behind her lack of seeking for rescue?
She did not voice her bafflement though, opting to let the monocled man run his mouth.
Seeing that his prisoner had no comments to make, he resumed his speech. “First and foremost, you’re not sure where you’re located.”
“You could be trapped in a suburban area. However, that would be risky on my part. Why would I hold you hostage in a place where a neighbour passing by can see me kidnapping you? It’ll be too easy to notice something amiss.”
“So, you guessed you’re being locked up in somewhere remote, like a cabin in the woods. Then your cries for help would be for naught, since no one can hear you.”
“Last time, you realised I live with my lover. That’s why you threatened to scream—you were hoping that we live in this very house that you’re being kept under. You want to get his attention.”
“However, you’re afraid that your guess is wrong. You’re wondering whether I have an unused house and if that’s where I’m keeping you.”
“Even if this isn’t an extra house I have up my sleeve, you’re scared that if you scream, I’ll have a way to cover up your existence. So even if my lover hears you, he’ll believe my lies than to even consider there’s someone in the basement.”
“During the day, you didn’t try to call for help either. That’s because you don’t know if there’ll be anyone at home. Even if we’re in the suburbs, no one’s ears are sharp enough to pick up noises from inside a house, let alone the basement.”
“Oh- also, just now, there’s another reason why you didn’t scream in the end.”
The monocled man pointed at himself, smile broadening as he chirped, “With me right in front of you, do you really dare to do anything rash?”
Silence blanketed the basement. For a long moment, the only sounds echoing against the dark walls were the deep breaths of the captive.
At last, with wobbling lips, Flora muttered, “W-Why are you telling me all of this?”
The man adjusted the crystal monocle over his right eye. “Take a guess. I believe in your intelligence.”
Confusion pinched her brows at first. As the gears of her thoughts churned, questions and answers began to fall into place like puzzle pieces. Gradually, epiphany coloured her face white, draining the blood as realisation settled.
He was taunting her. His whole villain monologue was to put into perspective the hopelessness of her situation, and to ultimately goad her into carrying out a reckless decision.
After all, when all hope seemed lost, what more could a drowning person do to not succumb to the tides and sink into the abyss?
Blood steadily returned to her visage, colouring her dermis red. Her heart pounded viciously against the cage of her ribs, pumping humiliation and indignation through her veins.
Flora wanted to scream. She wanted to frighten the monocled man before her, to turn the tables, to make him be the one afraid of her. She wanted to witness the carefully constructed composure crumble when he realises she will not lie still and be trampled over.
However, before her rage could boil to its highest point, the man opened his mouth again.
“I suggest you don’t try to escape. You’ll be much safer waiting here than finding a way out.”
The flame of resistance evaporated, quickly replaced by bafflement. She found herself blurting out. “Why?”
The monocled man stroked his chin. “I’ll let you go eventually. Not now, but some time in the future.”
“As long as you’re patient and wait for the day you’re set free, you can walk away from all of this without harm.”
Doubt and caution weighed heavy in her chest as she carefully asked, “And if I don’t wait and break free?”
The sigh leaving the man sounded regretful.
“Then, I cannot guarantee your survival.”
There was no threat or malice in his voice. Yet, cold water doused her whole body, leaving her tense with alarm.
“Alright!” The monocled man clapped, crisp noise reverberating through the dark underground. “I’ll bring your next meal in twelve hours.”
“If you feel hungry in that span of time,” stated the monocled man, smiling sweetly. “Tough luck, little one.”
Quickly picking up the plate of food beside him, the monocled man stood up and turned around. There was not a pause in his movements as he carried the dish to the stairs, climbing up the flight until he reached the top where the ajar basement door waited for him.
Flora watched as the only source of light vanished, rampant thoughts loud in her head as she sat in the pitch black quietude.
≪ ❈ ≫
Arousal crashed over Klein like a lapping wave, seizing him in a full body shudder. The void of unconsciousness cleared as he stirred awake, eyes cracking open to let slip shards of light. Blurriness greeted his vision, followed by a rush of pleasure. A moan was coaxed out of his throat as he regained his bearings, surroundings coming into focus as he woke up.
His ears caught wind of a slurping noise, loud and messy. Gratification crawled up his spine, causing him to tremble. His eyes gazed downward, where the pleasure was blooming from.
Between his legs was a head of ebony curls. His sleep pants were discarded at some point during the night, definitely a work of the individual below him. Another ripple of arousal prompted Klein to notice what the culprit was doing.
Seemingly aware of the attention on him, the man glanced up. Abyssal gaze met chocolate pair. The connection was quickly broken as the latter zeroed in on the man’s lips wrapped around his arousal.
Glee glinted within the voids of his eyes from the attentiveness, followed by mischief as a thought swiftly formed inside his mind. Swallowing the entire length, the man gave the phallus a rough suck.
The heat clamping down on his sensitive organ pushed his body into full rigidity, muscles spasming as ecstasy raised goosebumps across his skin. His veins became cables for electricity to course through, heating his skin red with excitement and delight. A gasp was squeezed out of his throat, trembling lips parted as tears sprang into his half-lidded eyes. He tossed his crown back, exposing the bare expanse of his neck, unseeing vision staring at the ceiling above them.
The soft whisper tumbling from his mouth thundered in the still room like a prayer. “Amon…”
A chuckle rumbled deep in Amon’s chest, muffled by the hardness in his mouth. The noise brought about vibrations that shook Klein to his core, tugging forth a quake that spread through his whole frame. The whimper slipping past pressed lips carried a pathetic lilt, naked thighs clenching the head of black curls with quivering eagerness.
A thin hand landed on the ebony locks, carding slender fingers through unruly strands. The digits tightened, torn between pushing the head away or keeping it still.
While Klein struggled to make a decision, Amon continued to suckle the erection. With the heat enveloping his organ and Amon’s continued ministration, Klein swiftly tipped over the cliff of climax.
The moan came out choked, muscles tensing as he spilled inside his partner’s mouth. Lids fluttered closed on rolled back eyes, breaths leaving and entering his lungs rapidly. His lithe back arched off the bed, his legs thrown over Amon’s shoulders pressing against the latter’s back with curled toes.
As the stiff muscles relaxed, a tremor shook Klein’s body. He lay limp on the bed as Amon pulled off his flaccid length, drops of white essence dripping. Bleary chocolate opened before shakily lowering, making contact with a pair of Stygian orbs.
Without breaking the gaze, Amon held a hand beneath his chin and parted his lips. Embarrassment saturated the heat that tinted the tips of Klein’s ears with red as alabaster dribbled from his partner’s mouth, pooling in his cupped palm. With his oral cavity now cleared, the black haired man smirked and brought the puddled hand lower, smearing the liquid over his hardened phallus.
Klein wished Mr Sandman would pull him back into his kingdom of dreams.
Dazed with embarrassment, he failed to notice his partner’s subsequent actions. Amon leaned his weight forward and folded Klein in half, exposing his naked rear. Staring at the entrance which winked shyly under his intense gaze, the black haired man chuckled lowly.
Holding the base of his erection, Amon pressed the tip against the entrance. Not even providing a warning, he pushed his whole length into Klein. It was a fell swoop, no pause in-between to give the brown haired man time for adjustment.
“Ha-ahhh—”
Klein was caught off guard. Despite his fatigue, his eyes still widened. His fingers clawed at Amon’s chest, nails digging into the flesh and carving lines of crimson. His body arched off the bed, muscles taut from surprise and pain. He tightened around the intrusion inside him, feeling it reaching deep within his body.
Amon grunted at the heat contracting around him. He dove forward and captured the trembling parted lips with his own. A whimper bubbled from Klein’s throat, instantly swallowed by his hungry partner. Tears stained his lashes, some droplets rolling down his cheeks from the pinch. He meekly returned the kiss, weeping soundlessly as the black haired man pushed his tongue into his mouth, toying with his own pliant muscle.
Amon held still. He allowed Klein reprieve to adapt to the intrusion. The heat that was initially tight around his phallus slowly relaxed, occasionally clenching as if to familiarise itself with the girth.
Once he noticed the brown haired man considerably unwinding, Amon pulled his hips back. The length exited Klein slowly, inch by minuscule inch. He could feel the veins scraping against his sensitive walls, tugging impatient whines from his lips as zaps of pleasure left his body tingling.
When only the head was left inside, Amon braced himself. He backed away from Klein, a string of saliva connecting their lips. As the thin thread shattered, the black haired man thrusted, shoving his hardness back into the tight warmth.
Chocolate eyes rolled to the back, chin tilting up as a moan was punched out of his lungs.
There was a bump on Klein’s stomach where the head of Amon’s penis was pressing from the inside. It would disappear when the black haired man pulled out and reappear when he shoved back in. The sight of how deep he was buried within the brown haired man fuelled him with arousal, prompting him to propel into the lithe body with reckless abandon.
The moans forced out of Klein’s lips climbed in volume and octave, fresh tears springing to his eyes before the last trail even dried on his cheeks. He was helpless to the persistent pleasure washing over him, the waves as strong as tsunamis drowning him until he could hardly breathe. The hot rod pummelling within him paved a straight passage, unhindered as it continuously rammed into the deepest parts of his inside.
“R-Raven! Slow dow—hhh…”
Saliva clogged his throat, preventing the words from forming. Electricity slithered from the centre like serpents, spreading to every limb and reaching the tips of his fingers and toes, leaving them numb and tingly. Heat gathered in his core, compressing into a tight bundle, growing in intensity with each thrust and scrape.
His thoughts, which were still reeling from the prior slumber and hence contained traces of grogginess, became jumbled. The ability to string sentences slipped from his grasp as the pleasure consumed his psyche and comprehension. When his mouth opened, all that left were whines and sobs. His eyes stared at the ceiling above with lids halved, crystal droplets wetting the lashes and accumulating at the corners. Some drops could not hang on anymore and rolled down his face, leaving his crimson cheeks moist with tear tracks.
Klein was drowning in arousal, mind muddled and chest heaving, red painting his ears, neck and chest. The crying expression etched upon the brown haired man appeared pitiful. Amon, upon witnessing such a view, became even more aroused, heart palpitating faster as an excited smile twisted his lips, obsidian orbs wearing a rare glint.
Amon leaned close, bracing his arms on both sides of Klein’s head like a cage. The latter’s body bent further, knees touching his shoulders as his flexibility was pushed to its limit. The brown haired man was squashed beneath his black haired lover, lithe frame engulfed by the lean form. His movements were limited by the firm encasement, keeping him trapped to absorb all the sensations warring through his body. A whine was strangled out of his throat, hands balled into fists against his lover’s chest as he wrapped his legs around the latter’s waist, clinging onto him for dear life.
Amon nuzzled Klein’s temple, lips brushing against a flushed ear as he whispered airily. “Just let go, my dear fool.”
The husky encouragement blew warm breath against his sensitive lobe. Coupled with the unceasing pounding that left his inside raw and tender, Klein could not resist against the tide of ecstasy. It continued to mount, clawing its way to the peak, arriving at the edge of a cliff.
And then, it tumbled.
A guttural groan escaped Klein’s throat as he came undone. His brown eyes squeezed shut, muscles taut as waves of pleasure rippled through his body. White spurted between their bodies, painting their chests in his arousal.
Klein clenched around the rod inside him. Amon’s hips stuttered from the sudden tightness, a surprised grunt slipping from his lips. The black haired man buried his face into the brown haired man’s neck, sheathing his length fully inside the figure beneath him. Finally, he released his load into the latter, wider frame trembling as gratification rolled through him.
Their climax washed over them like a strong wave. It crashed the shore with a rumble then receded, quiet and demure as if it had not just wreaked havoc to the poor souls lingering near to the surges. The two slowly came down from their highs, breaths evening out as their bodies relaxed and moulded against each other.
The atmosphere returned to its previous silence, save for their heavy inhales and exhales. Sweat sheened their skins and mixed together, creating a sticky connection between them.
A whine of displeasure struggled out of Klein’s throat from the dampness, squirming under his lover’s heavy frame in protest.
“Raven… shower…”
His words slurred, fatigue quickly encroaching his consciousness once more.
His lids fluttered, threatening to close.
Amon kissed his forehead. There was a smile in his tone, soft and endeared.
“Sleep, my dear. I’ll clean us up soon.”
Klein believed his lover. The latter had no reason to lie to him.
So, he succumbed to his drowsiness, sinking into the abyss of the dreaming.
A garbled murmur was managed. “I love you…”
As Klein’s breath came out steady and consistent, Amon pressed another peck to his forehead again.
“I love you too, my dear fool.”
≪ ❈ ≫
The basement was dark and silent. Some minutes ago, the monocled man visited to retrieve the dish he served. The plate remained full, food becoming cold with time. As he took the uneaten meal and left, the only source of light for the captive was whisked away with his receding presence.
After the initial bang of the basement door closing, the atmosphere became as still and quiet as the dead. The creeping shadows lurking in the underground sneaked towards Flora, weighing heavy upon her like a dangling guillotine. The absence of light and sound filled her lungs with the sands of time, strangling the air from her throat with each passing second.
As suffocation buried her in the claustrophobic blackness, Flora opened her mouth.
“Help-”
The attempt was feeble. Yet, it opened a floodgate.
She crawled forward, fingers poking through the gaps of the wired patterns and grasping the barrier sealing her within. Her wide eyes stared into the empty void, incapable of perceiving her surroundings. However, that mattered little as motivation and dauntlessness fuelled her confidence.
“Help… help!”
The cage rattled with restless clangs as Flora shook it, vigour and strength seeping into her action. Desperation pumped the blood in her vessels, speeding her heartbeat and prompting cold sweat to break out on her back. The thought of being caught and silenced by her captor was strong, but the traitorous hope that weaselled past the crevices of her heart ruled stronger, urging her forward.
“Help! Someone, please help!”
Her hoarse voice boomed in the dark basement, shaking the walls and floor and ceiling. The constant clattering of the wired cage accompanied the distressed cries of the captive, catapulting the hushed underground into complete pandemonium. The din created from her ruckus filled every corner of the undercroft, vibrating the very atoms of the space surrounding the cramped confinement.
“Can anyone hear me? Please, help! I’m begging you!”
Flora screamed. She screamed with all her might. Her hoarse voice slowly gained steadiness and strength, increasing in volume and determination.
“Someone, help me! Anyone!”
Flora screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out. The voice which was built with momentum and power gradually became scratchy. Her throat became sore with the screams surging out of her oesophagus.
“Anyone, please…”
Flora grew tired. She breathed heavily, drawing long breaths into her lungs before shakily releasing them. Her whole body quaked with the force of her respiration, every inhale flaring the rawness in her voice box. Her rough throat was tickled by the air flowing in and out, ultimately forcing her into a bout of coughing fit.
As the uncontrollable hacks subsided into pained wheezes, her fingers slipped from the gaps of the wired cage. Motivation took the strength from her body and fled, leaving behind a pair of slumping shoulders and limp hands. Her chest heaved, rising and falling with every intake and expire of air, recovering from the burst of energy she exerted just moments ago.
There was wetness streaking down her cheeks, a dense lump settling in her throat. A weight pressed heavily on her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs, keeping her breathless. When she opened her mouth in an attempt to vocalise, she choked and stuttered.
“Please help me…”
Silence answered her weakened cry. The darkness enlarged the basement, allowing the plea to echo through the deceptive vastness. When the reverberations bounced against the walls, they dissipated into tinnitus, scattering in the quiet air.
Flora was all alone, trapped in a small cage in a huge underground. No noise kept her company—only her anguished sobs tainted the stillness. She was small and insignificant against the immense void, against the magnitude of her situation.
“Please, anyone…”
“Help me…”
≪ ❈ ≫
A whiny creak fleeted into the kitchen, rusty hinges full of complaints as the front door opened.
“Dearest, I’m home!”
Sizzles infused the tranquil kitchen as fatty oil jumped in the pan of diced pork and sliced onion. The thin horizontal tip of a spatula stirred the ingredients with soft scrapes, letting the aromatic sweetness of the onion bleed into the pork while the former absorbed the savoury grease of the latter. After a few strokes of the utensil to the components, the dancing flames beneath the pan was extinguished.
Footsteps padded into the kitchen as the readied food was transported onto a white plate of considerable width. Lean arms wrapped around thin waist, firmness pressing against flat stomach, pushing slim back against an unyielding front. A defined nose nudged along the crook of his neck, soon moving away and replaced by soft tiers peppering the expanse of skin.
The head of brown tilted back, leaning on a sturdy shoulder. The sigh escaping petal lips was breathy, lithe frame melting into the warmth behind him. Additional access was granted with the slight crane of the slender neck, pleased chuckle rumbling from behind as adventurous tiers latched onto a pulsing spot.
A suckle. A shudder. A bite. A hitch.
Mischievous lips retracted to reveal a blooming bruise, burgeoning red spreading its petals across unblemished dermis. A low chuckle left tantalising breaths on sensitive skin, transmitting a low quake to the embraced figure. Soft tiers migrated away, seeking refuge against a reddened earlobe, brushing gently on the heated organ.
“What are you cooking?”
The sweet whisper was thick honey, low octave coaxing the chef to immerse in the gravelly syrup. With a head tilt, his mouth found the source of the question, grazing their lips teasingly. In a heartbeat, the origin of the husky tone captured his soft tiers, prodding a naughty tongue into his mouth.
Helplessness tinged the moan bubbling from his throat, quickly disappearing down the oesophagus of the domineering presence. The wet muscle smoothed over his molars and roof before settling on his own tongue, toying with it. A rhythm was set, one which the chef easily danced to, letting the dominant half guide the moves.
Their lips separated on the assertive man’s accord, the thin string bridging their mouths quickly breaking from the distance. Hazy chocolate shifted, locating a pair of onyx hues. The crystal accessory over the right eye glinted with the illumination of the kitchen light, playful smirk broad and honed.
Great effort was exerted by Klein in his reply. “Stir fried pork with rice. Plus seaweed soup.”
The hum was one of acknowledgement, a swift peck planting on his lips. The arms around his waist unwound, spinning his body around before trapping him against the counter. Now fully facing the black haired man, brown eyes watched as the head of ebony tilted, intrigue and satisfaction swirling within the abyssal orbs.
Leaning close until lips skimmed once more, a gentle whisper fanned his face. “I love the sound of that.”
A gentle nod. “That’s good.” Then, a beckon at the newly plated dish. “Help me set up the table.”
“Okay~” resounded a chirp full of enthusiasm and adoration. Another peck was stolen from his pink lips before lean arms pulled away, returning his freedom.
Swift was Klein in the preparation of cutleries and ceramics. With two spoons, two plates and two bowls retrieved, he brought the tableware to the dining table. According to his instructions, Amon also prepared the plate of stir-fried pork and pot of seaweed soup, along with the rice cooker.
Glancing at Klein, Amon suggested, “How about you take a bath first? I still need to settle some work stuff.”
No objections came from the brown haired man. Instead, he remarked, “I’ll wait for you to have dinner together.”
A laugh burst from the black haired man. He shook his head. “I won’t take too long, dear.”
The exchange did not extend further. Turning on his heels, Klein left the kitchen for the upper floor. The plan was to shower and change into nightwear.
As warm water cascaded his skin, tense worry rolled with the surges. The sweat from a full day of work was washed away, bringing forth a relaxing freshness. A contented sigh faded into the steaming tiles as soap and shampoo were applied, scrubbing down the hidden stains of troubles and challenges until he was clean of physical and emotional imperfections.
Minutes passed before the tap was turned off. Water vapour billowed out of the bathroom as the door swung open. Emerging from within was Klein with a towel hanging around his hips. Damp brown locks produced droplets that skidded down his skin. The chiller atmosphere of the bedroom hastened the brown haired man into putting on his nightwear.
Switched into a comfortable attire, Klein departed from the bedroom and reached the stairs. One step at a time, it was soon that he arrived on the lower storey. A beat was not wasted as he beelined for the kitchen.
Spoons, plates and bowls reposed neatly on the dining table, untouched since its first settlement. A scoop balanced atop the shut lid of the rice cooker while a ladle stuck out between the rim of the soup pot and its cover. The stir-fried pork had a spoon on the side, partially dipped into the dish.
The plated course had an obvious appearance of being lesser than before.
Brown gaze swept the kitchen, then turned to the adjacent living hall. His black haired partner was nowhere in sight.
Thoughts kept Klein still, feet glued to the floor where he stood. Then, a decision came to his mind. Four chairs surrounded the dining table, one occupying each side. Klein seated himself in one. A plate was directly before him, a bowl ten o’clock of the plate, and a spoon to his right.
The fragrance of the dishes was inviting, persuading Klein’s appetite. However, his palms remained in his lap, balled loosely.
He made a promise. He planned to stick to it.
A distant noise drifted into the kitchen, rhythmic stomps which gradually increased in volume. Ensuing was the creak of door hinges, followed by a solid thud. The click of a lock set in place resounded, then soft taps advanced towards the kitchen.
Amon turned up at the doorway, crystal monocle flashing the light of the fluorescence above. Obsidian orbs widened a fraction, lips stretching further, obvious glee saturating his features.
Light steps rapped towards the dining table, eventually halting in front of the chair opposite of Klein. Brown gaze followed the black haired man’s movements, not once averting from the black eyes.
One hand adjusting the optic accessory, unexpected gentleness graced the curve of his lips, tenderness reflecting in his eyes. “Let’s eat.”
A small nod. “Let’s.”
The chair across from Klein was swiftly occupied. Rice was scooped onto the plate while soup was ladled into the bowl. The juicy pork joined the grains, staining its gravy on the whiteness.
The couple soon dug into their hearty dinner.
A bite was taken from the stir-fried pork. Onyx orbs slid closed, accompanied by a hum. The sound was drawn out and satisfied. Lean body relaxed into the chair, leisure chews digesting the food. Fat melted against his tongue as sweetness coated the palate, savoury delight elevating the flavour senses.
After the ground meat slipped down his throat, the head of ebony turned to the chef. Fulfilment bowed his lips as they parted. “The meat is delicious.”
There was a momentary shift in chocolate gaze. One glimpse at the black haired man before averting. A nonchalant hummed vibrated his throat. “I’m glad.”
The spoon was extended to the bowl. It dipped into the soup, then emerged with equal parts seaweed and liquid. The filled silverware was then brought to his lips, light blows pushing the steam of heat away before the soup was tipped into his mouth.
“Mm!” An exclaim from the enjoyer, Stygian eyes turning into crescents as a hand covered his lips demurely. “The soup is good too.”
“Is that so?” The tone was indifferent. Even so, chocolate gaze glanced at the black haired man in acknowledgement. “That makes me happy to hear.”
Soft clinks pervaded the kitchen air as cutleries collided with crockeries, lifting food off plates or out of bowls and into awaiting maws. Chocolate gaze occasionally darted to the black haired man, cerebration swimming behind those deep eyes. Observance lingered in the stares, tranquil expression anticipating the events to follow.
Shifting brown orbs to the plate before them, words finally slipped from his mouth. “I heard some screams this afternoon.”
The pause was momentary, soup sloshing over the rim of the spoon and splashing on the plate. Black eyes flickered to the brown haired man, one heartbeat passing. Then, all movements proceeded—the spoonful of soup entered his mouth and the black eyes returned to the meal in front of them.
After the liquid disappeared down his throat, Amon probed. “Is that so? What did you hear?”
Brows furrowed as contemplation reflected in brown eyes. Careful words left parted lips. “Someone screaming. The voice is muffled, so I didn’t hear what was said.”
Intrigue was written across Amon’s profile. His non-dominant arm raised its elbow to the tabletop, resting upon the surface. A cheek leaned against the naturally curled hand as examination permeated onyx orbs. “Where did it come from?”
The spoon was lowered, freed hand resting atop the table. Chocolate orbs moved, vision pivoting to the space beyond his partner. Composed countenance disguised his deep pondering, structuring the sentence to deliver.
A response soon arrived. “I was upstairs, so I can’t tell where the scream came from exactly.”
The hum emitted from Amon’s throat was filled with rumination. Then, his lips shaped into his iconic smirk. “Maybe it’s the neighbours’ kids. You know how much they love to play outside.”
The shrug offered appeared unconvinced. Still, a nod was provided as Klein murmured, “I guess you’re right.”
No words of reply came from Amon, merely a smile was supplied.
The dinner resumed in silence. The one to finish their meal first was the black haired man. There was little pork and soup left. So, he pushed them onto the plate and bowl of the brown haired man. Afterwards, the platter and pot were taken away to the sink.
The twist of the tap invited water to the basin. As a dutiful partner, Amon cleaned the grime off the dishes with the assistance of a sponge and soap. They were also wiped with a cloth and sent back to the cabinets of their respective residences.
The muted thud of the cupboard door shutting was immediately proceeded with a question. “Do you want something to drink?”
A brief pause to allow his thoughts to run. Then, an answer. “Tea will do.”
The chuckle held amusement as another cabinet was opened, tea bags and coffee powder in various packets being stocked within. “It’s night time already. Aren’t you worried you can’t sleep later?”
The shrug went unseen before a verbal response was provided. “If I end up staying awake later, I’ll just continue with my project.”
A soft thump indicated the closure of the cupboard. The kettle was swiftly filled with water and returned to its power cord, where a sharp click followed. A drawer opened then closed. A ceramic cup struck the countertop with a light clink. There was the rustle of a tea bag.
Amon tossed a glance at Klein. “How much sugar do you want?”
There was nary a pause in the latter’s eating. Once there was no food in his mouth, he spoke, “Up to you.”
Amon laughed, gentle but hearty. The kettle turned off automatically with another click. The black haired man moved his attention back to the task at hand.
Liquid was poured into the cup. After the kettle reoccupied its post, a drawer opened. A container was twisted open, ensued with the faint noise of granules shifting.
The container was twisted shut. A soft thunk represented its reinstatement.
There was the minute noise of a packet being ripped. More granules were poured into the cup of tea. A cupboard opened then swiftly closed, presumably to toss the packet.
The gentle clinks of a teaspoon colliding with the interior of the ceramic cup told Klein that his drink was almost ready. Footsteps approached the brown haired man, whose plate and bowl was free of food just seconds ago.
“I’ll wash those,” offered Amon, the voluntary act swift and enthusiastic.
There was no objection. Brown eyes watched in silence as the plate before him vanished from sight, replaced by a cup of freshly brewed tea. The bowl was also retrieved before footsteps departed from his side.
Barely discernible steam puffed out from the hot beverage, dancing and intermingling as it stretched upwards, dissipating to nothingness the further it floated. Chocolate orbs studied the drink for five seconds, then ten. The tap water was turned on again, running water splashing as his dishes were washed.
A careful hand reached for the cup. His thumb rested on the rounded edge of the ear, first two fingers hooked through the loop while remaining digits supported the weight of the ceramic. The steady grip prevented the warm liquid from spilling, leisurely bringing the drinkware to his mouth.
A soft blow chased away the steam and heat. Then, cautiously, the rim met his lips.
The slightest gap parted his mouth as the vessel tilted, permitting the tea to flow through. Sweetness coloured his palate as warmth soothed his being, quietening his heart and loosening the muscles. When the drinkware retracted, a contented sigh escaped his lips.
“Do you want to watch the sunset while drinking your tea?”
The voice coaxed Klein to avert his gaze, brown eyes landing on a handsome face full of familiarity. The crystal monocle did little to enshroud the depth of his onyx orbs, cheekiness imbuing the smirk tilting his lips. His partner stood upright by his side, playing the role of a knight awaiting his next order.
The hold on the cup adjusted. Only the thumb hooked through the ear. The rest of the fingers, alongside his other hand, cupped the vessel tenderly, afraid of unprecedented jarring movements that would knock the ceramic to pieces.
His attention returned to his partner. A gentle nod dipped his chin. “Carry me while you’re at it?”
The question was obvious. The smile tugged Amon’s lips wider. No further prompts were demanded of him—he was a guard at the beck and call of his king, seamlessly carrying Klein in his arms and lifting him off the chair.
“Your wish is my command, my dear~”
A swift kiss landed on the tip of his nose. A shaky sigh left ajar mouth as the head of brown leaned against sturdy shoulders. The cup was mindfully cradled in his lap, chocolate orbs hiding behind slipping lids.
The gentle creaks of the floorboards lulled Klein into a distant daze, basking in the heat emanating from his partner.
He was at ease. He was comforted.
Klein left himself in the capable hands of Amon.
≪ ❈ ≫
The beginning days were the easiest to keep track of—one day, then two, plus a third. However, the total pitch blackness and cyclical serving of meals gradually warped her perception of time. By the sixth rotation, her mind struggled to recollect the number of dishes prior to that meal.
Overcame by prudence and scepticism, there was no desire for consumption. The initial servings had been easier to endure, despite the aromatic fragrance which simulated the salivary glands and the aesthetic plating which pleased the viewing eyes. Unfortunately, everything erodes through the passage of time—her petulant persistence eventually waned as hunger crept from the depths.
Perseverance finally running out, Flora could no longer deny her body of necessary nutrients. The meal before the last, no crumbs were left on the plate, spotless crockery shining and reflecting the holder’s appearance on its surface. She had practically inhaled the food, giving no time for her stomach to process the ingestion, leaving it confused and demanding for more.
Much to her despairing predicament, the upcoming batch of meal would not be until one-third of a day later.
Surprise had been expressed by the monocled man upon the discovery of the emptied plate. The pleased bearing exuded from his personable countenance triggered her flight or fight instincts, tension seizing her frail frame as observant eyes followed the leisure movements of her captor. She was a cornered mouse while he was a cat toying with his meal.
“You finally ate. Didn’t leave any crumbs either.”
Vigilant gaze fixed onto the monocled man, tracing the curve of his lips and the upturn of his abyssal eyes.
“Well done~”
Heatwaves of embarrassment turned her face and neck red. Before a word could escape her throat, her captor continued.
“The next meal will be in twelve hours. I look forward to that one being cleared off too.”
There was no stalling for idle chit-chats. His mind was spoken, the plate retrieved. A single beat did not go to waste as the monocled man turned and left the basement.
The illumination was brief. Like a winter sun, it came and went. A heavy slam resounded in the spacious underground, resonant bang filling the dark void of utter silence.
The seconds passed by swiftly. There was an attempt to count, but the sixtieth was her limit. The minutes sprinted into hours, blazing path distorting her reality in its wake. Hallucination convinced Flora of a new dawn, twenty-four hours already waving its farewell. The clock was invisible but thunderous, every tick striking the gong of doom. Father time was uncaring of her plight, a silent observer to the gradual wither and rot of her body, mind and soul.
The dire situation convinced Flora of her fate, sealed as if it was a contract. Death was inevitable but not imminent. Even so, it would visit her in this cramped cage under this dingy basement. No soul would hear of her conclusion, the reaper being her sole witness. Her final exhale would be lost to the darkness, helpless cries strangled into the quietude and dissipating to nothingness.
Back supported against the wired wall, bent legs upright to fit within the restricted box, head lolled as her crown grazed the low ceiling. Dull eyes stared into the abyss, succumbing to the shadows of despair and torment, picking up flashes of mocking laughter and taunting dances in the dark. Her mind mimicked the eerie silence of her surroundings, thoughts not even stirring a breeze, lost and forgotten in the trenches of self-pity and deprecation.
The quiet wallowed and screeched, extending spindly arms to grapple at Flora. Ripples broke the water surface as she was forced under, shadowy sea filling her lungs with claustrophobia and madness. Lips parted to gasp, but an exhale never came—she was drowning, further and deeper, pried from salvation and sinking to obscurity…
A sharp thud sliced through the suffocating hush, ringing in her ears like a gunshot.
Dazed eyes stared as light flitted across the darkened wall, thin illumination gradually expanding to outline the staircase. A silhouette took shape in the radiant glow, stretching as footsteps descended the wooden steps.
Thump, thump, thump—the falls were slow, careful, uneasy.
Soon, there was a figure before Flora. Cowardice forced her to the back of the cage, frame shrinking to insignificance. However, bleary eyes adjusted to the newfound brilliance, perception quickly analysing the appearance of the newcomer.
The guest had a masculine presentation. The tresses atop his head were short and neat. The brightness from upstairs glimmered against the back of his hair, shining a lustrous brown. The gentle gaze fixed upon her burned like a candlelight, worry and concern dripping like wax. The slender physique carried a sophisticated allure, deceptively frail while restraining agility and flexibility.
No sign of ebony curls. No sighting of abyssal orbs. No indication of mischief and cunningness. No view of a crystal monocle.
This was not her captor.
It took less than a second for Flora to arrive at a realisation.
This was the captor’s lover!
As eyes widened with shock, her heart skipped with trepidation and hope.
Her chance at salvation had finally presented himself.