Content Note:
This chapter contains explicit sexual content and themes of dubious consent.

The air inside the cave was stifling, though cooler than the punishing heat outside. The high sun bore down relentlessly on the Sarrian Desert, its scorching rays turning the sand and rock into blistering heat. The faint echoes of shifting sand reached Kinto's ears as he stirred, the muffled silence of the desert seeping into the cool shadows of the cave. His first conscious thought was pain. His wrists ached where the leather straps dug into his fur, the stiff mitts encasing his hands pressed uncomfortably against his knuckles, and his legs throbbed from being bound so tightly for so long. His muzzle, still gagged, felt raw, the coarse cloth rubbing uncomfortably against his sensitive skin.

The second thought was clarity. He was alone with Kethar.

Vorrik was gone, presumably standing watch at the mouth of the cave. Though Kinto couldn’t see beyond the jagged bend in the stone wall that separated the two chambers, he could picture the larger Solerian leaning against the rocky outcrop, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon with disciplined focus. Vorrik’s departure left Kethar alone in the dimly lit chamber with him, a reality Kinto quickly recognized as more dangerous than comforting.

Kinto shifted slightly, testing the strength of his bindings, the heavy mitts preventing his fingers from so much as flexing. His wrists were pinned firmly behind his back, the leather straps biting deeper into his skin with every movement. His ankles, similarly secured, left him sprawled awkwardly on his side, his tails trapped beneath the folds of his robes. His vision swam as he adjusted to the dim light, his amber eyes catching the faint flicker of Kethar’s movements by the small fire in the center of the chamber, no more than a few feet from him.

Kethar was restless. He sat on a flat rock near Kinto, one leg stretched out lazily as the other remained bent at the knee. The sand-gold scales of his bare chest glistened faintly, still damp from the sweat of their long march. The water skin dangled loosely from his hand, its faint movement catching Kinto’s attention. He didn’t even have to fake the dryness of his throat or the ache of thirst; his need was real, and the Solerian’s casual handling of the water only sharpened it.

Kinto shifted slightly, his tails twitching beneath his robe in a subtle movement that drew Kethar’s sharp gaze. Their eyes met briefly, Kinto’s amber gaze flicking toward the water skin in an unspoken plea. Every slosh of the water was a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t have, and Kethar’s mocking grin told him the Solerian knew exactly what he was doing.

“Thirsty, fox?” Kethar drawled, breaking the silence. His sharp golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted the water skin slightly, letting a single drop escape to fall onto the stone at his feet.

Kinto met his gaze, his amber eyes calm but faintly narrowed behind the gag. He didn’t move at first, letting Kethar’s words hang in the air. Then, slowly, he shifted his body, his tails twitching faintly beneath his robes as he angled his head just slightly toward the water skin.

Kethar chuckled low in his throat, his tail swishing lazily behind him. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned forward, his claws tapping against the stone as he studied Kinto more closely. Kinto held his gaze for a moment as Kethar looked down at him. His eyes flicked briefly to the water skin, then back to Kethar, the silent plea clear.

Kethar tilted his head, his smile sharpening. “All right, then,” he murmured, setting the water skin aside and leaning closer. His claws reached out, rough but deliberate, hooking beneath the edge of the gag. The sweat-stained cloth clung briefly before slipping loose, falling away to reveal Kinto’s muzzle. The Vulpin let out a soft, rasping breath as the cool air hit his damp fur, but he kept his gaze steady, his body still.

“Better?” Kethar asked, though his tone made it clear he didn’t really care. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as his tail swished behind him. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

Kinto licked his dry lips, his voice hoarse but steady when he finally spoke. “Water.”

Kethar chuckled again, low and rasping, and reached for the water skin. He uncapped it with a flick of his claw, tilting it slightly to let the water slosh within. “That’s it? Just ‘water’? No ‘please’? You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Kinto’s ears flicked again, but he didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the water skin, his throat burning with every passing second.

Kethar's tail lashed impatiently, stirring dust from the cave floor. "Do better," his voice low and biting, as though daring Kinto to push the boundaries of his pride. “You’re not going to get anything with that little whimper.”

Kinto exhaled slowly, his bound body shifting against the floor as he angled his muzzle slightly upward. His amber eyes flicked between the water skin and Kethar’s face, his expression calm despite the growing ache in his throat. He knew what Kethar wanted; he knew that the Solerian wasn’t interested in simply granting him relief.

Kinto swallowed, his throat burning. “Water,” he said again, quieter this time.

Kethar didn’t move.

The silence stretched. The waterskin creaked softly as Kethar shifted his grip, an almost idle sound that made Kinto’s ears flick despite himself.

“...Please,” Kinto added, the word forced out through a dry rasp.

Kethar exhaled through his nose, amused. “That’s still not it.”

Heat crept up Kinto’s neck. His jaw tightened. He drew a breath, then another, each one scraping. “Please,” he said again, quieter. Slower. “I need water.”

Kethar leaned closer. “You want water,” he corrected mildly. “And you want it from me.”

The pause that followed was longer this time.

Kinto’s ears flattened. His pride reared once, briefly, before thirst crushed it down again. His voice came out rougher than he intended.

“May I—” He stopped, swallowed hard, then started again. “May I have some water...”

The words faltered. His chest tightened.

“...Sir?”

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t pretty. The title scraped its way out of him, carrying something raw with it.

The Solerian's tail stilled mid-motion, scales bristling subtly at the base, betraying an instinctive response. Kethar’s expression shifted, a brief, unreadable flicker of surprise crossing his features before melting into intrigued cruelty. His claws drummed thoughtfully against the waterskin.

“Sir, hmm?” he repeated softly, the word lingering mockingly, as though savoring its unexpected sweetness. His voice lowered, edged with amused disbelief. “Didn’t think you’d sink that low.”

He leaned forward slightly, the sand-gold scales of his chest catching the firelight in a subtle, rippling gleam. Rough, clawed fingers brushed deliberately against Kinto’s muzzle, firm and possessive as they lifted the Vulpin’s chin higher, forcing their gazes to lock.

“That wasn’t convincing enough,” Kethar rasped quietly, his golden eyes darkening, pupils sharpening into thin slits. His breath deepened slightly, almost imperceptibly, betraying the stirrings of anticipation beneath his controlled exterior. “Go on. Beg properly this time.”

Kinto’s breath remained even, though a faint tremor stirred beneath his fur as exhaustion and tension intertwined. His amber eyes held Kethar’s gaze unflinchingly, a quiet defiance tempered by compliance. He parted his lips once more, softer now, each word like a delicate thread spun between them. “May I please have some water, Sir?”

The silence stretched taut, punctuated only by the faint, involuntary scrape of Kethar’s tail against stone, the ridges dragging slowly, betraying his concealed reaction. The Solerian’s grip on Kinto’s jaw tightened fractionally, his chest rising and falling in carefully measured breaths that now quickened subtly, betraying a mounting intensity he did not entirely control.

“There it is,” he murmured finally, voice thickening with a roughened edge. He tilted the water skin, allowing a deliberate trickle of droplets to fall onto the stone, each tiny splash resonating clearly in the stillness. His gaze, filled now with a deeper hunger, lingered over Kinto’s compliant form. “Seems you can remember your manners when you’re thirsty enough.”

The Vulpin’s sharp ears flicked faintly, but his gaze remained steady, focused on the water-dampened stone. He pressed his bound form subtly closer to the ground, a quiet display of obedience that sent a thrill through Kethar despite himself. Kinto’s tongue slipped out slowly, carefully lapping up droplets from the gritty surface. The cool liquid, tinged with sand and dust, offered scant relief, but it was enough to ignite a subtle shiver of satisfaction through his exhausted frame.

Kethar’s tail went still, and his grip tightened slightly on the waterskin. His golden eyes followed each deliberate movement of Kinto’s muzzle, captivated despite his attempt to appear detached. With a low, almost imperceptible growl, he tilted the waterskin once more, allowing a thin stream of water to trickle down over his scales, pooling briefly along the ridges of his foot.

Kinto paused, amber eyes narrowing slightly as he traced the path of the water, watching it mingle with sweat before dripping slowly onto the stone. His breath caught for just an instant, hesitation flickering beneath his otherwise calm exterior. Then, carefully, he lowered his head, his tongue brushing softly against the damp stone, inching closer toward the glistening scales.

Kethar’s breath escaped sharply as the warm, rough tongue finally grazed the edge of his foot. His muscles tightened, a faint tremor running down his spine. The sudden, unexpected sensation sent a heat rising in him, one he quickly tried to suppress. He shifted involuntarily forward, drawn closer by the subtle pull of Kinto’s delicate movements.

The Solerian’s eyes darkened, fascination blending dangerously with desire as Kinto continued, growing bolder with each careful lick. Kethar’s next breath came ragged, escaping him in an unsteady hiss that melted unintentionally into a low, reluctant groan. Embarrassed by the lapse, he straightened abruptly, his tail flicking irritably against the stone floor.

“You have no shame, do you?” Kethar rasped harshly, attempting to mask the tremor in his voice by projecting disdain. His claws drummed impatiently against the stone, betraying his restlessness and frustration at his own reaction. Yet he couldn't help himself, sliding his foot slightly closer, silently urging the fox onward. “Go on, then. Don’t stop now.”

Kinto’s gaze rose briefly, amber eyes gleaming with an intensity that belied his submissive position. Without breaking eye contact, Kinto resumed his attentions, tongue tracing deliberately over the Solerian’s rough scales, tasting every ridge and groove.

The taste hit him immediately: sharp and earthy, the tang of salt from dried sweat mingling with the faint bitterness of sand ground into the grooves. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, and yet there was something intoxicating about it, something that made Kinto’s heart race despite himself. The rough texture of the scales dragged against his tongue with every careful flick, sending a faint shiver through him that he forced himself to suppress.

He closed his eyes briefly, pretending it was out of exhaustion rather than anything else, and allowed himself a fleeting moment to savor the sensation. The musk rising from Kethar’s scales, mingled with the faint coolness of the water, was heady and primal, a scent so alien yet so strangely alluring that it sent a quiet thrill through Kinto’s chest. His throat tightened, not from thirst, but from the effort of keeping his expression neutral.

Above him, Kethar stiffened further, caught between his desire to maintain dominance and an uncomfortable awareness of his growing attraction to the captive fox’s submission. The Solerian's breathing became noticeably shallower, a quiet hitch escaping before he could contain it. His claws flexed restlessly, the heat radiating from Kinto’s obedient tongue igniting something primal inside him.

Kinto didn’t dare meet Kethar’s gaze again, focusing instead on his task. His tongue glided over the ridges of the Solerian’s foot, tracing the dips and grooves with quiet precision. Each movement was careful, deliberate, as though he were trying to convince Kethar, and perhaps himself, that this was nothing more than an act of submission. But deep down, Kinto knew the truth. He couldn’t deny the heat pooling in his chest, the strange thrill that came from this humiliating position. It wasn’t just the power dynamic that excited him: it was the Solerian himself, the raw strength and roughness of his scaled body, the unapologetic dominance in his posture.

The musk lingered in his nostrils, earthy and unfiltered, and Kinto couldn’t stop himself from inhaling faintly, the motion subtle enough that Kethar wouldn’t notice. His pulse quickened as he pressed his tongue against the damp scales again, catching another faint trace of sweat mixed with water. It sent a faint shiver through him that he quickly masked by shifting his bound body slightly, letting out a soft, shallow breath as though from exertion.

“Funny how quickly pride crumbles,” Kethar remarked dryly.

Kinto kept his head low, his ears twitching faintly at the words but otherwise remaining perfectly still. He forced his breathing to stay even, refusing to let Kethar see the quiet satisfaction building within him. 

Kethar’s sharp golden eyes gleamed with something deeper now: a mix of amusement, curiosity, and something darker. His tail lashed once against the stone floor as he shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly to better watch Kinto’s careful movements. The Vulpin’s composure, his quiet intensity, only stoked the flickering fire of Kethar’s ego, and yet there was something about Kinto’s deliberate compliance that made the Solerian uneasy. He couldn’t quite place it—was it defiance? Submission? Or some strange mix of both?

“Not bad, fox,” Kethar rasped, his voice low and rough as his smug face returned. “Guess you really do know your place after all.”

Kinto didn’t respond, his amber eyes fixed downward as he continued to work his tongue along the ridged scales of Kethar’s foot. The Vulpin’s movements were slow, deliberate, and Kethar couldn’t ignore the faint tremble in his bound body, the shallow breaths that broke the stillness of the cave. It was satisfying, of course, to see the proud little creature reduced to this; to see him licking the dirt and sweat from his scales like a proper servant. But there was something else in the way Kinto moved, something that made Kethar’s claws flex and his breath hitch again.

The Solerian shifted closer, his claws reaching out to tilt Kinto’s chin upward once more. This time, his touch was rougher, more possessive, as though testing the limits of Kinto’s quiet endurance. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Kethar growled, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the Vulpin’s expression. “Don’t bother denying it. I can see it on your face.”

“Me?” Kinto rasped, his voice soft but biting, as his amber eyes flicked upward again, locking with Kethar’s. “You’re the one who couldn’t hold back a moan earlier.”

Kethar’s claws tightened briefly on Kinto’s jaw, the sharp points pressing just enough to make his dominance clear. His smirk broke for the briefest moment at Kinto’s retort, the low rasp of the Vulpin’s voice and his calm, calculated expression stoking a flicker of irritation. But it wasn’t long before the Solerian’s grin returned, sharper and hungrier.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth, don’t you?” Kethar muttered, his golden eyes narrowing as his tail lashed behind him. His breath hitched, betraying his growing excitement as he leaned in closer. “Guess I’ll just have to do something about that.”

With a sharp motion, Kethar’s claws gripped Kinto’s bindings and hauled him roughly onto his knees. The Vulpin’s body shifted unsteadily, his bound limbs straining under the sudden force, but Kethar didn’t care. The Solerian rose to his full height, his sand-gold scales catching the firelight as his claws trailed to his waist.

Kinto’s gaze remained calm, his amber eyes flicking upward as Kethar loomed over him. The Solerian’s smirk twisted into something darker, his claws deftly undoing the ties at his waist as he rasped, “Let’s see what that clever little mouth of yours is really good for.”

Kethar crouched slightly, leaning closer until his breath brushed against Kinto’s fur. “And just so we’re clear, fox,” he growled, his voice low and rasping, “if you even think about using those teeth of yours, I’ll make sure you regret it. I don’t need you intact to collect my bounty.”

Straightening, Kethar resumed his work on the ties at his waist, his tail curling lazily behind him. The worn fabric of his pants loosened, falling slightly to reveal the ridged, sand-gold scales of his lower abdomen. The texture of the scales here was rougher, more pronounced than the smoother plates of his chest, and faint grains of sand clung to the crevices where sweat had dried after their long march through the desert.

Lower still, the cloaca rested at the center of his pelvis, shielded by overlapping plates of sand-gold scales. The slit was faintly darker than the surrounding ridges, the edges roughened by travel and the relentless friction of long marches through the desert. Fine grains of sand clung stubbornly to the grooves, catching where the natural folds of his scales parted. The heat of his body amplified the musk that radiated outward, a raw, primal scent that mingled with the earthy tang of sweat and the faint metallic bitterness of the desert’s grit.

The cave air, already thick with the damp smoke of the fire, grew heavier under the weight of Kethar’s unfiltered presence. His musk, unapologetically masculine and untamed, filled the small chamber like a living thing, sharp and inescapable. It was overpowering, an earthy, salty pungency mingled with the raw heat of exertion, a visceral reminder of the weeks spent under the unforgiving desert sun. The scent clung to him, strong and primal, amplified by the dried sweat that lined the ridges of his tail and scales. Kinto’s sharp nose twitched faintly, catching the faint bitterness of sand ground into the grooves of his skin and the unrelenting tang of days-long toil. There was no trace of the sweet sandalwood or citrus oils that lingered on the skin of the men at the bathhouse in Sharuun, no hint of the refreshing waters or perfumed soaps that might have washed away the grit and salt. Kethar’s scent was unvarnished, untempered, a feral presence that seemed to declare itself with every sharp flick of his tail.

The ridges of that tail flicked lazily, stirring the heavy air further and spreading the musk throughout the chamber, as though Kethar relished the dominance it implied. It was invasive, overwhelming, and utterly unfiltered, a scent that filled Kinto’s senses, not letting him forget the raw power and relentless drive of the man standing over him.

This was what Kinto truly wanted to explore during his journey back into Saryxian territory. He leaned in to better savor the musk and bask in the heat emitting from the Solerian's groin. He pressed his nose against the slit that hid Kethar's prize from him and took a deep breath. A shudder went through his body, and his eyes rolled back; the smell was pure intoxication. The only thing better than the smell, he thought to himself, was likely the taste. He twisted his head to the side slightly and poked his tongue out, slowly licking along the damp edges of the cloaca, intentionally dragging this out for his own enjoyment, and to see how much he could get away with teasing Kethar as well.

Not that he seemed to mind. Kinto snuck a peek up towards his reptilian captor and saw him throwing his head back while Kinto worked his tongue.

Kinto pushed on, sliding his tongue past the barrier of scales and into the moist confines of his cloaca. And moist was an understatement. Impulsively, Kinto pushed further, tunneling his snout into Kethar, submerging his nose in the damp chamber of masculine smells and liquids. Kinto's tongue found Kethar's fleshy cock, and he started tracing its shape. It didn't take long before it began to swell, and poke out of the slit, revealing itself to Kinto before almost promptly poking him in the eye.

Kinto's snout was pushed out of the dampness as Kethar's cock grew large enough to rest on the entirety of Kinto's muzzle. He continued licking up and down the elongated shaft and worshipping the tip, which appeared to taper off before flaring slightly at the end. Kethar didn't bother hiding his moans, though neither did Kinto, who was mesmerized by the tastes and smells consuming him.

Kethar spoke something in his native tongue that Kinto didn't quite catch, though he wasn't paying much attention with his focus on the cock in front of him. Kethar reached a hand down and let his claws drag along Kinto's scalp before grasping the hair on the back of Kinto's head, pulling it tightly to ensure he had good control of his toy. He pulled Kinto's head back enough to look him in the eye before pushing his head down on his cock, guiding it into the fox's open maw.

Kinto had gone limp and let Kethar take control, not that he had much option to begin with, but he didn't fight it. Gods, he loved it. Kethar's cock filled the entirety of Kinto's mouth and pushed down into his throat. Kinto gagged as he felt his nose press against the Solerian's pelvis, but Kethar held his head firm and chuckled darkly at the struggling Vulpin.

Kethar's other hand wrapped around Kinto's muzzle for better handling, and he started rhythmically thrusting his cock in and out of Kinto's maw. The pace was steady, but Kinto could hear Kethar's breathing get heavier, and he felt a surge of excitement course through him. Kinto longed to taste his reward for serving his Solerian captor so well.

But Kethar had other plans.

His pace slowed as he felt himself getting close to bursting. He wasn't ready yet. No. He wanted more, and his gaze hungrily focused on Kinto's ass. He released his grip on the Vulpin's head only to reach down and lift him up by his bindings, moving him with ease onto the rock Kethar was sitting on before.

Kethar adjusted Kinto slightly, just enough to ensure his ass was hoisted up and his face was down before he positioned himself between the Vulpin's bound paws that were sticking out helplessly under his exposed ass. He spoke again in his native tongue, words Kinto could not discern, likely something vulgar or exclaiming his excitement.

He bent down over Kinto and with one scaled hand gripped Kinto's muzzle tightly, ensuring it stayed shut as he positioned his cock to poke at Kinto's hole. He felt the heat coming off his toy and felt him shudder in anticipation. He could tell Kinto was enjoying this, but so was Kethar, and that was all that mattered to him anyway.

He pushed in, putting more weight on Kinto as he leaned on him and kept the fox's muzzle shut. Kinto tried to yelp, taking in several inches within seconds and no warm-up, but Kethar's grip kept him muffled. He struggled as much as he could in his bindings, but he found himself still mostly weak from the toxin and lack of food and water. The struggling did nothing but encourage Kethar further anyway. In mere moments, he had his entirety inside of Kinto, taking pleasure in watching the discomfort in Kinto's body language, and the muffled moans coming from his clasped-shut muzzle.

Kethar's other hand began forcing its way under Kinto's robes, exploring and reaching towards his throat as Kethar claimed his prey. With one hand around his muzzle and the other around his throat, breathing became more difficult and taxing for Kinto, but in truth, it excited him and made the forceful entry from Kethar's cock much easier to bear.

As Kethar's pace grew, so did his aggression with his hands. He pulled Kintos's snout up, leaving his neck taut and exposed, with his other hand now brushing its claws down his throat and his chest, more pressure being applied the lower he got. Kinto winced as he felt his claws begin the dig past the fur and into his skin. As Kethar let a moan escape, he reapplied a forceful grip around Kinto's neck as he gave his final thrusts into Kinto's ass.

Kinto could have sworn Kethar had hissed as he came in him. He could feel the Solerians cock fill him with his warm seed, a feeling he had been craving for what seemed like ages now. Though he was desperate for more, he already knew asking for it would get him nowhere, and if anything, only lead to Kethar using that against him in some way. Kinto sat there, bound, uncomfortable, used, and still horny himself.

Kethar withdrew with a sharp exhale, his claws briefly gripping Kinto’s hips as he pulled back. The sudden emptiness made Kinto shudder, his bound form still pressed against the cold stone. His breath came in slow, uneven drags, and he fought to still his body, to regain some semblance of composure even as the weight of exhaustion and frustration tangled inside him.

A rough hand gripped Kinto’s chin, lifting his head upward. Kethar’s golden eyes burned down into his, satisfaction evident, yet his hunger still lingered beneath the surface.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Kethar murmured, his thumb slowly brushing along Kinto’s lower lip, savoring the quiet moment. “You should thank me.”

Kinto’s ears flicked back slightly, but he remained silent. The Solerian’s gaze sharpened, amused by the fox’s stubbornness. Two clawed fingers pressed into Kinto’s mouth, forcing his jaw open just enough to push the damp gag back in place. The cloth, still warm from his breath, muffled Kinto’s startled inhale as Kethar tightened the knot with practiced ease.

Kethar stood, rolling his shoulders to loosen the lingering tension. His tail swept lazily across the stone floor as he reached for his belt. Before Kinto fully registered the movement, he caught sight of the familiar sheen coating Kethar’s claws.

Poison.

Kinto stiffened, his ears twitching as Kethar crouched beside him, resting a scaled hand casually against his bound wrists. “You’re too tense, fox,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “Relax.”

With deliberate precision, Kethar drew his claw along Kinto’s arm, just deep enough to introduce the toxin beneath the fur and skin. Fire spread instantly beneath his skin, numbing his limbs with a swift, merciless chill. Kinto’s breath caught sharply as he felt his strength drain away again, replaced by a leaden, immovable weight.

Kinto’s breath hitched as the effect took hold, his limbs refusing to respond. His fingers, once subtly flexing against the leather bindings, stilled. His legs, already stiff from being bound, lost any remaining strength. He tried to move his tails, to flick them in irritation—nothing. He could still breathe, still feel, still think, but his body was utterly useless to him.

Kethar hummed softly, pleased as he tilted Kinto’s head aside, inspecting his captive. His claw trailed almost affectionately along Kinto’s jaw before gripping lightly. “Much better,” he murmured. “Can't risk you getting ideas while I sleep.”

He released Kinto with a playful pat to his muzzle and rose, the flickering shadows of the fire tracing the lines of his scaled form as he stretched. Kinto could only watch helplessly, frustration coiling within him like hot embers beneath cool sand.

And worse, his arousal lingered, persistent, impossible to ignore. It was maddening. His traitorous body was aching with need even in his current state. The throbbing between his legs was undeniable, pressed uncomfortably against the folds of his robe, neglected and unsatisfied. He might have shifted, sought some kind of friction, but the poison held him completely still, leaving him trapped in this torment.

Shame and desire twisted inside him, inseparable now. The humiliation, the force, the raw heat of Kethar’s dominance had awakened something deep within, something Kinto had no choice but to acknowledge. Even now, bound and used, a part of him still burned desperately for more.

Kinto exhaled slowly through his nose, his ears twitching faintly. He could still taste the Solerian on his tongue, still feel the weight of him against his body. If he had any strength left, he might have laughed at himself, at his own depravity, at the sheer absurdity of finding pleasure in this.

The fire crackled quietly in the oppressive silence of the cave. Vorrik’s distant presence, near yet unseen, only amplified his isolation. Kinto’s vision blurred slightly, exhaustion pulling him toward reluctant oblivion

His amber eyes flicked toward the dying embers, his vision slightly blurred at the edges as exhaustion pulled at him. The scent of Kethar still clung to the air, thick, primal, and inescapable. It filled his lungs, coiled around his senses, and refused to let him forget. Bound, paralyzed, and utterly trapped within his own desires, Kinto finally let his eyes drift shut and drifted into uneasy slumber, where dreams promised no escape, only echoes of his shame and desperate, lustful hunger.