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He ends up masturbating with his Left Hand, which he doesn’t do often but makes for a nice change of pace.
“Must we burn after this?” the Left Hand asks, breath hot in the Captain’s face, “This is the message we should spread. Instead of destroying nations, let love contain the Dark.”
“Someone please contain his mouth,” the Right Hand mumbles.
An orgy has broken out in the Kiln. Forty men followed him this far, and at least half of them have shed swords and armor and have given themselves to each other. The Captain himself, lying on his back, legs spread wide around the Right Hand’s hips, strokes himself frantically, trying to match the speed of the Watcher jerking himself against his shoulder. The Left Hand lays next to him, trying not to look affected by the Watcher fucking him, a pale leg braced high against his chest. The Left Hand traces meaningless patterns on the Captain’s chest, smirking as he flicks a nipple.
Everywhere the Captain looks, there’s sex. Even the ones who have finished are only temporary; a few couples watch, sharing gentle caresses as they wait to recover. No one is forced to participate, no one is dragged into positions they do not want – the Captain spies a single Watcher surrounded by six others, a cock in his mouth and two more in his hands, and he is clearly ecstatic.
He has no idea what will happen once they Link the Fire. Will he see any of his men again?
“Hey,” the Left Hand says, cupping the Captain’s cheek, “Stop thinking.”
He turns the Captain’s head into a kiss, and the Captain loses himself to the scents of sex and sweat and a thousand flowers.
