Chapter 158: I Said Don't Move!!!*
Their bodies were far too close for comfort now. Steam coiled around them like lazy spirits, curling from the bath's surface in thick ribbons that clung to bare skin. The room was dim, the only light flickering from a single crystal lamp on the far wall—its glow soft, amber, dancing over the walls like liquid gold. The scent of the heated herbal oils floated between them—lavender, chamomile, something darker and spicier Sylvaris couldn't name. It made the room feel more intimate than it had any right to be.
Water lapped gently at the stone edges, sloshing just enough to break the silence, and somewhere beneath the surface, his cock was standing at full attention like a loyal soldier waiting for orders. He tried not to look, tried not to think about it, but fuck, her presence was suffocating. Not in a bad way. In the way that made his skin ache to touch hers. Too close. Too soft. Too real.
Iselynne moved slowly, deliberately, her bare feet whispering over the slick stone as she stepped closer. Her naked body glistened under the haze, lithe and pale like moonlight carved into flesh. She covered herself with one arm, but those full, round tits couldn't be hidden—not really. The curves peeked through, teasing the edges of her forearm, and Sylvaris was losing the battle in his head, second by second.
She didn't flinch. She didn't shy away. Her gaze locked onto his like it was nothing, like they weren't both naked, like the space between them wasn't crackling with sexual tension thick enough to choke on.
"I want to wash your back," she said, voice calm, steady, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "And I will not take no for an answer. So sit down… and get comfortable."
He almost choked.
What the fuck do you mean 'get comfortable'? He was about to erupt like a volcano and she wanted to play bathhouse romance? His fists clenched under the water, jaw tight, heart thundering. His eyes flicked downward for just a moment, catching the way the steam caressed her stomach, the gentle dip of her hips, the smooth trail of skin leading down between her thighs. Fuck. His pulse hitched. His cock throbbed.
Yes, he'd seen her naked before, but that was in a cold cage, back when she was just a possession, displayed like meat. That wasn't her choice. That wasn't this. Now she had stripped on her own, stepped in on her own, and walked straight into his bath without hesitation.
And now… now she stood in front of him, exposed and breathtaking, while he sat completely naked, submerged in hot, slippery water, trying to pretend he wasn't rock-hard under the surface like some beast waiting to pounce. If she didn't want him to fuck her tonight, then why the fuck did she do this?
His mind spiraled, logic breaking apart like wet parchment. Why would she come in like this, knowing full well what he was, what he wanted? The tension strangled him, coiling tighter every second, and the scariest part was—he didn't want to stop her.
This wasn't a test of restraint.
It was a countdown. And the numbers were running out.
"Please stay calm… your back is so big… it's hard for me to focus on cleaning it. Every time you move, I almost slip and fall on you," Iselynne said, her voice so soft and breathy it barely made it past the sound of bubbling water. She was trembling—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
Sylvaris swallowed hard. "Ah… right." He tried to still himself, every muscle pulling tight like drawn steel. His shoulders flexed, sculpted and slick under the warm water, and for the first time in years, he was afraid of moving—not because of battle, not because of death—but because the woman behind him was far too close, and far too naked.
Her thighs brushed against his back as she knelt, straddling the ledge behind him, the soft curves of her body shifting with every breath. He could feel her warmth even through the steam, the tension in her limbs as she tried to stay steady, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other dragging a sponge across his spine in awkward, jerking strokes. The sponge was rough—far too rough—but her palm… gods, her palm was heaven. Hot. Silky. Trembling.
And each time she leaned in, her breasts swayed dangerously close to his skin, heavy and glistening from the bath's steam, nipples tight and flushed from the heat.
One slip. One slip was all it would take.
"Don't move!" she gasped, her breath brushing the shell of his ear, making him twitch. "I—I'm going to fall!"
"I'm not moving," he groaned, his voice strained, deep, desperate.
"You are!"
"I swear—"
"AHHH!"
It happened fast. She lost her balance, the sponge dropped with a splat, and then she crashed into him, full body. The soft weight of her breasts flattened against his back with a sinful slap, slick skin gliding over his muscles, her nipples brushing against his spine as her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders.
He froze.
Her legs kicked in the water, and that motion only made things worse—her pelvis slammed into his lower back, grinding once as she tried to steady herself, and then her thighs clamped around his hips. She let out a shaky breath. He let out a growl.
The bathwater rippled violently, waves sloshing over the edge, as the two naked bodies locked together like they were sculpted to fit.
Her chest was pressed to him, her cheek nearly against his neck, and she was panting now, her breath shallow, skin flushed deep pink, soaking wet in all the right ways. She hadn't even realized yet… but her core was dangerously close to resting right against his cock, which was now standing upright like a tower of doom under the water—nearly touching her.
"I—I'm sorry," she whispered, but didn't move. Couldn't move. Her hands tightened on him, and he could feel her fingers digging into his chest.
She tried to stand, but it only made things worse—she slipped again, tumbling forward and landing right on his chest.
Sylvaris's jaw locked. His fists clenched under the water. Don't fuck her. Don't fuck her. Don't fuck her yet. The voice in his head was screaming, but his body… his body was already betraying him.
His cock throbbed, the tip brushing the underside of her belly just slightly, just enough to make them both flinch.
"I can feel it…" she said, voice trembling, eyes wide as she pulled her head back just a little. Her gaze drifted downward—she couldn't see much through the steam, but she felt everything.
This was it.
One move. One breath. One kiss away from disaster.
And Sylvaris, already clenching his teeth so hard they might break, could only think one thing:
This night's going to kill me.
Either that... or the two of them were about to have the night of their lives.
"Calm down, don't move! I just—"
"You don't move!" she snapped, voice cracking into panic. "It's literally poking my belly. Are you a horse?! Holy shit!" Her face was redder than a boiled tomato, and her arms flailed for grip—because between the slickness of the soap and the bubbling water, every inch of her was sliding over him.
Sylvaris clenched his jaw. He was trying. Really trying. But her ass was pressed right against his thighs, her soaked skin against his abs, and his cock—throbbing, rock-hard—was wedged against her stomach like a battering ram begging for war.
She tried to push herself up.
Bad idea.
Her hand slipped.
Her knees buckled.
And just like that, gravity won.
She fell forward—and his cock brushed right between her folds, not inside, but just enough.
Her lips parted.
"Mmm—ahhhh!"
The sound tore from her lips before she could stop it, her nails clawing at his shoulder as her body jerked against his. Her hips spasmed from the touch—just the tip, just barely brushing her folds—and yet it sent electric fire down her spine. Her breath hitched. Her thighs trembled.
Sylvaris froze, wide-eyed, every nerve in his body screaming at him to move, to grab her, to slam her down and ravage until the water itself boiled.
His cock pulsed—hard, angry, twitching against her soaked heat.
"Y-You... you slipped," he said, voice low, guttural, barely human now.
"I-I didn't mean to—ah... it touched... I-I didn't mean to moan like that!" She was panting now, squirming helplessly atop him, trying to push herself off—but every shift, every wriggle just rubbed her slit deeper against his swollen shaft.
"Then stop moving," he growled.
"I can't!"
The next motion wasn't accidental.
Her hips bucked.
And this time, his tip parted her lips—not inside yet, but right there, nestling between her soft folds like it belonged. The heat was unbearable. She let out a helpless gasp.
"You're soaked," Sylvaris muttered darkly. "You came here on purpose... you knew exactly what you were doing..."
Her eyes widened. Her hands flattened against his chest, but she didn't push.
"I-I just wanted to wash your back," she whispered. "But you... you're the one who's huge and naked and hard and—this isn't fair…"
"You wanted me to stay calm?" His smirk deepened. "Too late for that."
Then he gripped her hips, fingers digging into her skin, slick and firm, holding her there.
"Tell me to stop, Iselynne," he said, voice rougher now, more primal, lips grazing her ear. "Say the word... and I'll stop."
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Instead, she leaned closer... and slowly pressed down.