Between Horror and Desire
Oliver stood frozen, the echo of the crowd's chant still ringing in his skull. His finger tingled where the ring clung—cold, alive. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak—
"Oliver…"
The voice shattered his trance.
"Oliver… you look like you've seen a ghost. Or made one."
As he stood there, still staring at the ground that had swallowed Yama, he felt it—a gentle touch. Soft. Barely a whisper on the skin.
He turned immediately.
Not just his head.
His whole body twisted—eye, breath, and bone.
Fear didn't just fill him. It changed him.
What he had witnessed was not something easily shaken off.
It didn't belong to the world of quick recoveries.
It belonged to the kind of terror that rewrites a person.
"Oliver… why is this place so scattered—devastated like a meteorite just crashed into the earth?"
The voice again—closer now.
This time, it had a face.
Oliver's eyes softened.
His shoulders dropped.
His lips parted but said nothing.
Relief and confusion fought for space in his expression.
"Leo…" he exhaled.
Leo's laughter came light and sharp.
It rose into the sky and danced with the air, carried deep into the silence that followed devastation.
"Hey… where is your mind?" Leo grinned, head tilting playfully. "Don't tell me you're… haha…"
His voice skimmed the air like a stone skipping over still water.
But the moment his gaze followed Oliver's…
The moment he saw it—whatever had snared Oliver so deeply—
his grin widened.
Too wide.
He leaned on Oliver's shoulder as if laughter itself had weight.
But it wasn't joy.
Not even close.
It was a loud, jarring laugh.
The kind that cuts through stillness like a blade through fog.
Nearby dancers paused, heads tilting toward the noise.
Oliver didn't flinch.
He simply tilted his head.
Eyes meeting Leo's with eerie stillness.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Hm… give me strength to calm myself down…"
His lips barely moved, but his heart thudded like a war drum.
There was something deep within him trying not to awaken.
Something older than rage.
Not at Leo.
Not even at the world.
At what he knew was coming.
Leo straightened, catching his breath.
"Why that look…? Hey, I've got something to tell you. You'll love it."
There was a glimmer in his eyes—
part fire, part mischief.
He licked his lips absentmindedly, as though remembering something too real, too recent.
"Don't tell me…" Oliver began, quietly, "you did it… with them?"
His voice wasn't harsh.
But it held weight.
The kind of weight you place only on the things you're afraid might be true.
Leo smiled—slow and dangerous.
"Not today…" he breathed. "But guess what…"
He ran a hand through his hair, brushing off sweat—and something more.
His grin shifted.
Crooked. Haunted. Almost holy.
For a moment, Oliver forgot everything else.
Even the silence left by Yama's descent.
Leo filled the space with shadow and charm alike.
But then—
Movement.
In the distance.
Past the fire.
Beyond the crowd.
Something… still.
Not walking.
Not breathing.
Watching.
Oliver blinked.
Gone.
But the feeling it left behind was very real.
Leo's voice cut through again.
"Do you see the ladies going…?"
He gestured with a flourish—like a magician revealing a trick.
Oliver frowned.
He saw no one.
"Which ladies…?"
Leo leaned close, eyes glowing.
"The ones near the drummers. With broad chests and twisted hair… like they were born from a fetish priest's dream."
Oliver scanned the crowd.
Drummers pounded the air with rhythm.
One—just one—shook his head so violently that his dreadlocks blurred into a storm.
Then—
he saw them.
Three women.
Moving in formation.
A triangle.
Old. Ritualistic.
"Is it the ones standing like a triangle… or the ones seated near the drummer?" Oliver asked.
Leo's grin deepened.
"I had a good time with the triangle… especially the one with the light-laced top and hips curved like they were drawn with a compass."
He leaned in again.
Voice lower.
Hungrier.
"Her body… sweet like honey drowned in sugar. And her breasts—"
He exhaled like the memory alone drained him.
"They could kill a man."
Oliver stared, trying not to laugh.
A blank expression cracked just slightly.
Leo twinkled.
"Remember when I asked you to join me at the food table and you refused?"
Oliver nodded, slowly.
"Well," Leo grinned, "I was served two kinds of food."
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What…?"
"You guessed right," Leo said with a wink.
"Food… and nature's sweetest kind. The one that empties every ounce of strength from you—
and still leaves you full.
So full, it feels like the earth itself calls you to lie down and sleep in it."
Oliver blinked, dazed. "What do you mean by that?"
Leo waved it off, smiling as if holding back a secret too large for the moment.
"When I got there, three ladies stood around the table. Not just beautiful—powerful.
One of them… she looked at me, and I swear… I felt like prey.
She didn't need to ask my name.
She already knew what I tasted like."
He laughed—softer now. Almost reverent.
"There was one… I wanted more than breath.
And she knew it."
Oliver rubbed his palms together slowly.
A grin spread across his lips.
"Hmm… I see where this is going. Go on."
He leaned in, but part of him—
the part still haunted by what he'd seen,
by the way Yama vanished,
by the figure in the trees—
remained alert.
Leo's tale pulled him in.
But something else still called from the shadows.
"Pah...! Pah...! Pah...! Pah...!" Leo clapped his hands sharply, imitating the sound, making the story feel even more alive. "The desk inside the hut shook violently. Her right leg shot up high, her knee almost pressing into her chest, while her foot landed squarely on the top surface of the desk." He paused for effect, his eyes lighting up with the memory. "Her bare, uncovered body leaned heavily against my waist, her soft breasts swinging wildly in the air like rubber bands being stretched and snapped back, crashing against my chest with every rough movement. Oh God..."
He shook his head slowly, still lost in the memory. "I could see her expression change every time I rubbed my hard but flexible rod against her smooth, freshly shaved pink lips... She gripped onto me, her breath catching, her body trembling."