Roger ran his hand absently down Thom's body, shrinking the worst of the bruises and sealing any of the more … excessive lacerations marring the other mage's flesh. The younger man flinched at each flicker of orange light, and Roger watched, amused, as Thom twitched weakly away every time Roger moved his hand.
Not that Thom could do more than twitch. He wasn't really conscious; his wide-open eyes were glassy and blank. Roger's other hand held Thom's head still, tilting his chin up and forcing those empty, empty eyes to meet Roger's own.
Roger bore down with all his considerable will, and planted two compulsions deep within Thom's mind. As an afterthought, he wiped his memory.
Thom would remember nothing but pleasure.