Kors buried his face in his folded hands again. He felt that Prince Arel, who until then, as usual, was lazily lying on the neighboring skin, moved closer to him. Feeling the breath on top of his head, Kors raised his head from his folded arms and looked up at the prince with a little questioning expression. He liked Arel’s beautiful face, covered in a thin layer of light gray paint, and his eyes outlined in black. Kors was used to seeing Arel as he was throughout his life: painted, with a gray face framed by long dark hair parted in the middle, and with crazy brown eyes that were naturally bright and additionally accentuated by black paint. Kors had long perceived this image of him quite naturally, and in those rare moments when Arel’s face was clean, he, on the contrary, seemed to him somehow alien, unusual and unnatural.

Arel brought his blackened lips closer to Kors’ face and kissed him, as if comforting. Kors immediately responded to the kiss, feeling a pleasant warmth inside his abdomen and the way Arel’s lips differed from Nik’s: they were not so plump, a little hard because of the paint layer, without rings that always rattled on Kors’ teeth when he kissed Nik. Arel pressed his lips to Kors’, thrusting his tongue into his parted mouth. They began to kiss, and Arel hugged Kors’ head with his arms.

“Arel, Vitor, well, you’re bothering me,” said Nik. At the same time, his voice was gentle. “Vitor, your ass is now covered with goosebumps,” Nik laughed quietly and shortly.

Kors and Arel broke the kiss with obvious regret, but not for long, because Arel continued to lie nearby, and they looked at each other the way loving people look. Kors involuntarily thought about how many circles of hell the prince went through before he found his Gift and the Demon considered the training completed. Or has the Demon not finished yet and has restored Arel, just to give him a little respite?

“What strength of mind does one need to have to withstand all that has happened to you, my poor prince?” Thought Kors, looking at Arel’s calm and unburdened face.

“You, too, are like a son to me, I love you very much, and, probably, I have always loved you, even when I drove you away. Nik is my son, but I am your father too. There are three of us, and we will be together, because this unity is our strength.” Unable to resist, Kors again reached for Arel, and he immediately responded.

“Are you doing it again?! Stop crawling back and forth, Vitor! You said you wanted me to tattoo you, and now you can’t lie still!” Nik was indignant.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Kors answered hastily, stepping back from the prince.

Arel sighed, and, taking himself by his cock, rubbed it back and forth a little, thus trying to relieve tension. Kors, seeing how Arel, moving his hand, completely bared the head of his cock, then closed it with his foreskin, involuntarily breathed heavily and swallowed.

He tried not to look at Arel in order to stop, as Nik put it, “crawling back and forth”.

“Vitor, stop imagining my cock,” Nik said after a while, “you do it… uh … so diligently that it is standing now before my eyes. Stop thinking all sorts of bullshit, my cock is okay and I can jerk off like Arel.”

“No you can’t!” Objected Kors. “Arel moves his foreskin up and down as he wants, and you, Nik, circumcised yourself.”

“Not much,” Nik replied.

“I know perfectly well how you can jerk off. I have done this to you a hundred times and I know that it is impossible to close the head of your cock with the foreskin completely, it is missing, and this is inconvenient. You have to wet your hand with saliva for better glide.”