Kiss the Stranger

A slow finger traced down my back, making every hair on my body stand on end. It slid just beside the scar, brushing my skin. Fear and a chill ran through me. I gripped the wall, but the smooth marble, damp with steam, made my palm slip again and again. As I repositioned my hand, I suddenly felt something behind me—his broad body drawing near. Whether from fear or some other stir, my heart pounded wildly and my mouth went dry. Through my trembling, I heard Asghail’s low voice:
“Soiling yourself like this—behaving like a stray dog, is it not?”
My whole body shook even more. I opened my mouth to speak, but only managed after several tries:

“I-I’m sor-… I’m sorry…”
I barely finished apologizing before heat and heavy breath overwhelmed me, making it all I could do just to stand. He whispered:
“If you’ve done wrong, you must be punished.”

“…!”
Startled, I leapt, terrified. A whip? Was he going to strike me ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) again? That was why he’d been inspecting my back. I should have begged him sooner—should beg now.
But no sound would come.

I trembled in self-loathing, wishing I could faint—but even that was impossible.
Then hot breath pressed against my spine as Asghail’s body covered me, his exhalation over my head.
“Nothing but bones, such a small behind… then again, it’s not only your behind that’s small.”
He placed his hand over mine on the wall, swallowing my hand in his large palm. I clenched my teeth so hard they hurt, but he merely tilted his head and spoke right at my ear:

“A pitiful, lowly thing… is there a more pathetic omega?”
Each time he spoke, his breath brushed my collarbone. I must beg forgiveness—though for what?
Lost and confused, I blinked helplessly. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

Asghail provided the answer:
“You smell of nothing, you are not even wet. You cry at the slightest thing… and now you soil yourself.”
He reached out and touched the wall to steady himself—and cold water poured down. I gasped and screamed as I realized he’d turned on the shower.

The frigid stream drenched me, and there was nowhere to escape. I was trapped in his embrace, water pounding both of us.
So cold.
Yet through the ice of the water, I felt his warmth against my back. I longed to rub myself against him to chase away the chill, but I could not.

I cannot let Kamar be cold.
As I tried to pull away, he turned off the shower and suddenly wrapped his arms tight around my waist. I couldn’t even scream as he pulled me in. The water warmed to lukewarm, and his body pressed into me from behind. I stood frozen, eyes wide.
I felt his breath at my neck as the steam thickened. Then I heard a deep sigh in my ear.

“Ha…”
He dropped his hands from my waist—and to my shock, his hand slipped between my thighs and seized the place between them. I screamed and staggered, but my hand on the wall remained caught in his grip, so I simply swayed against him. Unmoved by my distress, his long finger found its way to the trembling entrance.
“…Hik!”

I could not stifle that scream. I almost fell, balancing on my toes, but I had no control. His wide palm pressed at my perineum while his finger explored deeper folds. From behind me, he said:
“Even this hole is useless, isn’t it?”
His voice was as emotionless as always, so unreal that no feeling stirred in me—perhaps that was a mercy.
Yet he did not let go. Instead, the thing pressed against my buttocks hardened even more, hotter than his body. His hand slid up, his arm wrapping around my waist again. From behind me, he commanded:

“Press your thighs together more.”
My toes left the floor; it was impossible to obey. I tried to squeeze my knees but earned only a frustrated curse. Startled, I shrank, and he spat:
“You expect me to hold such a scrawny, bony thing? What is this skeleton supposed to be?”

He shook the arm hugging my waist—and I nearly fainted. But he was not wrong: my body, trapped in his thick arm, was nothing but skin and bone. There was so much empty space that he had to squeeze me tightly. As I prepared to apologize, he suddenly relaxed his grip. I nearly collapsed, but he steadied me until I could stand on my own.
At last on my feet, he released me. I hesitated, then looked back at him. Both of us were drenched—just like that day in the oasis.
Back then, the scent had not belonged to you, Kamar.

Now it was reversed. In everything, it seemed that way—except one thing remained unchanged: I loved him. Because of that, I wanted to give him everything, even what I could not.
“Your Highness.”
Under the falling water, I managed a shaky smile.

“May I… pleasure you with my mouth?”
My voice still trembled, but I’d completed the sentence. He furrowed his brow, sensing my courage. I knelt before him, seeing the bulge in his trousers. I looked up hesitantly; he did not stop me.
It took all my courage to unzip him. I knelt on the cold marble, half rising, and grasped his fly. My hand shook so badly I could see it in my mind’s eye. I stilled my breath and focused. The roar of the shower drowned out the soft click of the zipper. I freed his arousal from his underwear. To take it, I had to open my mouth as wide as I could; his shaft swelled as if to split me. I already knew its weight all too well.

‘All I think about is wanting to sleep with you.’
His words echoed from another time. A sad smile spread on my lips.

I parted my lips and extended my tongue.
Me too, Kamar.
Haa…

I thought I heard a sigh overhead but ignored it as I enveloped him.
The sting down my throat as he entered was intense. Still, I stifled nausea, breath by breath, dragging him deeper.
Each swallow made him swell more in my throat. Unable to move my lips, I held him with both hands. His heated flesh pulsed strongly against my palm.

A little more.
I strove to move my lips as I panted. Faintly, sweet pheromones filled my throat—it was his scent. Soon he might climax; this must be the prelude. I was ready to receive it all. If this satisfied him, I would take it.
He gripped my head. I looked up, unsure whether to go deeper or stop. But I knew he was near release. It did not matter—if it came from Kamar, I would drink poison if he asked.

Just then, his face twisted.
“…!”
Before I could react, he yanked my head roughly away. I slammed into the floor hard.

The water sprayed down on me as steam encircled my chest. I coughed and trembled, and Asghail only watched.
“…You.”
After a long moment, he spoke again. Hesitating, he opened his mouth but made no sound—odd, for I was usually the one unable to speak. I stared, confused, as he repeated:
“You.”

At that moment came a knock and a page’s voice:
“Your Highness, are you all right? May we prepare clothes for you?”
I recalled at last that royalty must never be seen naked. Though I had lain with him, I’d never seen him unclothed before.

One with a wound cannot ascend the throne.
As that thought surfaced, he bit his lip and spoke:
“…Return to your chamber.”

His voice was as calm as ever. He turned and entered the inner room, leaving me sitting in the shower’s cascade, still dazed.
Had I done something wrong?
If so, he would have been angry. That thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Then why?
I sat under the water, lost in thought, but found no answer.