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Fyodor had toured Sigma around the entire empty casino. Guests would be filling the corridors next week, going between the big cheers of winning to the quiet groans of losing big, and then back to the luxury hotel that surrounded the gambling core. Sigma was not entirely sure how his path had led to him being here, the manager of such an expansive resort. He certainly did not understand the allure of a casino as he had toured the floor and gained an understanding of the games people would play. He just knew he had a job to do, so he would do it well.
He also knew that all of this was a front for a much grander aspect of Fyodor’s expansive scheme, that he was a chip in Fyodor’s betting game. He had not been made aware of those future plans yet, Fyodor simply wanted Sigma to manage a successful casino for now. If he could do that, Fyodor would reveal the next steps of his plan. Sigma was not told what would happen if he failed.
Nikolai had disappeared early on into the tour, probably off to torment the staff that were putting together the final preparations before the grand re-opening. To the rest of the world, it had been open for 12 years, with a small break in operations whilst Sigma took over. The truth was the entire structure had only appeared a week ago, not dissimilar to the way Sigma had appeared in this world. Sigma was therefore now alone with Fyodor. He spoke lowly, and only when necessary, pointing out details Sigma would never have thought of for himself.
For Sigma, Fyodor was simply an enigma, and despite his small understanding of humanity, he knew the man in front of him was a step above the rest, with a mind that expanded far beyond the present moment. But he remained constricted to the human body, he still had vulnerabilities, Sigma just had not found any.
“One last thing,” Fyodor said, and turned into a small, dark room. It was empty, and there were no windows, nothing to give away that this whole structure was floating in the clouds, “Your own personal office.”
Sigma looked around, tried to think back to a time he had a room of his own previously, but his mind stayed blank, no images were conjured. “Thank you,” he breathed out, turning to Fyodor who was stood next to him, looking at him with those all knowing purple eyes. The light that filtered in from the corridor was all that stopped them from being in complete, suffocating darkness.
“You are too pure, Sigma,” Fyodor suddenly said, taking half a step closer to him. Sigma felt his body go stiff at the increased closeness, and cold prickling across his skin, “It is my shame. I put you in this structure built for sin, but you know too little.”
He suddenly reached up, rested cold fingers against Sigma’s cheek, that flushed red despite himself, the heat now reaching his face contrasting against the cool touch. He pushed back the desire to activate his ability, he did not yet feel ready to know all about the mysterious man before him.
“There’s still time,” Sigma said, his voice a whisper as Fyodor stood so close to him, and he wondered if Fyodor could hear the nervous thrums in his heart, “You can teach me.”
“Time, so much time,” Fyodor muttered, and his breath was warm, cascading down his neck. His fingers slid back, tangling into Sigma’s hair and pushing Sigma forwards until their lips touched.
Sigma’s eyes fluttered shut, a subconscious reaction to the touch of soft lips against his. Fyodor’s mouth tasted like the black tea he had drunk earlier, earthy and familiar. He smelt of the rainstorms, soaking Sigma entirely, chilling him to the bone. The kiss created a sensation of nostalgia for images and times Sigma could not place, could not see in the darkness behind his eyelids. He chased the feeling, pressing a delicate tongue to Fyodor’s lips, as if he could find home in this kiss.
But Fyodor pulled back, shattering the swirling snowstorm of taste and touch, forcing Sigma back into his dimly lit room.
“Yes, much to learn, lots of time,” Fyodor said softly, his fingers trailing back to Sigma’s face, his thumb pulling his bottom lip out slightly. Sigma stopped himself from licking the thumb pad, from getting a taste of the skin. Fyodor sighed, and dropped his hand, “When you know, tell me what furniture you want for this room, yes?”
Sigma nodded, glanced down at Fyodor’s lips, that had a delicate sheen of wetness from Sigma’s own tongue, “Yes, Fyodor.”
Fyodor did not smile then, but he seemed pleased nonetheless, “I will teach you more tomorrow, dismissed for today,” and he walked out the room, his coat swishing behind him, sweeping him across and out into the bright corridor.
Sigma touched his own lips, felt the heat of them, and considered what more there was to learn.