Three days. Three days since Abasi had captured that soldier. A soldier who used to serve the Templar of Fire, their sworn enemy. And yet, Osahar hadn’t been able to take his eyes off them. The way the scarf hung over their head, the light clothes that barely clung to their form. He was glad he requested they be dressed in oversized rags. Made it all the better to watch them.

His golden eyes watched in the dark, making sure to keep out of their sight. They aren’t ready. They can’t see my godly visage yet. He thought to himself, already imagining the fun the two of them could get up to. Love at first sight. Osahar never thought it would happen to him. He loved watching them, seeing the way their chest moved when they breathed. He wondered what it would be like to slice it open and watch the lungs in action. Did they swell up? Would they still breathe even when he poked a hole in them?

Osahar tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger. He pressed his head against the cool stone of the catacombs, closing his eyes. Ubaid had warned him, said it would be dangerous to get too close to the soldier. But how could he resist? Every part of their body was oozing in sin, and he just needed to get over there and taste them. What would the ambrosia running through their veins feel like on his tongue? Would it be as arousing as he dreamed it to be?

He pressed a hand over his mouth, muffling a moan. Osahar was a God. He should act like one. But even a god got a crush every once in a while.