Abyssal (ManxMan)

Triple Threat

Triple Threat

When Kai next woke, he remained silent and kept his eyes closed for a few minutes; he listened for any movement around him that would reveal to him if he had company. From what he could tell with his eyes closed, he was no longer in the the hard cage. He had silken covers thrown over him and what felt like an incredibly soft cloud beneath his head, which made him assume that he was lying on a bed. The contrast between waking up from lying on a hard metal floor to waking up to lying in possibly the softest bed he'd ever lain in was alarming.

What had changed in the time he'd spent unconscious? 

He strained his ears, waiting to hear any sound that would give away anyone in his vicinity. If he was going to wake up to another gawking crowd of merpeople, he preferred to be mentally prepared for it. Last time, they'd caught him off guard. 

If there was a crowd in close proximity, they were being awfully quiet. Only when he was absolutely sure that no one was around did he open his eyes. The first thing he realized was that he was lying inside a golden sea shell turned into a bed. The second thing was that he was no longer underwater. 

Unbelieving, his eyes scanned his surroundings. There were no bubbles in sight. He was in a small room that was completely empty except for the shell bed. He examined the walls; they were jet black. He'd read or seen somewhere that dark colored rooms absorbed the light, making rooms look smaller, yet this was not the case here. If anything, he felt so very small inside the giant shell that filled one side of the room. 

Head pounding, he gingerly sat up; half-expecting a joint or muscle to ache. The covers fell away and he looked down. He was naked, thanks to Shtara who'd ripped his clothes to shreds, and he was completely dry, meaning he'd spent some time out of the water. Unless someone had patted him dry, which, judging by the experience in the cage, was highly doubtful. 

Pink-purple, bruise-like markings covered his body wherever the damned handsy octopus had wrapped his slimy tentacles around him. He stared at them with wide eyes, feeling the pit of his stomach fill with dread. It wasn't enough that the memory of what transpired in the cage was permanently seared to his brain, he would now have to contend with perfectly-visible marks for a few days that would constantly remind him of it? 

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands against the onslaught of unwanted memories. Bile rose to his throat and he forced himself to swallow it back down. If it weren't for the marks on his body, a part of him would have attempted to persuade him that it had all been a surreal nightmare. A tentacle monster had attempted to rape him in front of a crowd of mermen and mermaids. Any psychiatric he told this to would ship him off to the nearest mental hospital in a strait jacket before he finished saying it. 

Unfortunately, this was one of those incidents he would have to bury deep, deep down and hope it never found cause to resurface and tear him apart. 

Sighing, he opened his eyes and carefully poked the tentacle marks on his forearm, expecting to feel the uncomfortable pain of a day-old bruise. He was surprised when he didn't. He nudged the area a little harder, testing its tenderness yet again, yet still it did not pain him.

Relieved, he pushed the covers away, exposing himself to the air for the first time in he didn't know how many hours. Strangely, his skin wasn't wrinkled from being in the water so long. Sure enough, the markings circled his waist and thighs. He frowned at the sight of his nipples swollen and a furious shade of red. That piece of shit had done a number on him. 

When he couldn't bear to look at them any longer, he got off the shell bed and turned to examine it.

How cliche, he thought sourly.