ORCA 46

“Give me your ton—tongue, too!”

The saucy response that slipped out of Niah was certainly interesting. His plea—more than a plea, really—uttered with his eyes squeezed shut, was firm and confident. Though he was trembling, his voice conveyed a determination to obtain what he desired.

Orca sat Niah, who had at some point slumped far to the side, upright and moved closer, wrapping an arm behind his hips. His elbow came to rest on the vanity. The lowered posture made their eye levels uneven.

“Alright.”

“R-Really…?”

His eyes flying open, Niah studied Orca’s face. He was momentarily surprised by the gaze looking slightly up at him, but his attention was drawn elsewhere. The unexpectedly willing answer felt suspicious. Wondering if there was a hidden meaning, he stared intently into the eyes that met his. He couldn’t help but be suspicious at having such a strange request, even to his own mind, granted so easily. This was separate from the sudden sense of unfairness he’d felt, thinking that only the young master got to touch him as he pleased.

“Why…?”

“Never mind, if you don’t want to.”

“No! It’s not that I don’t want to….”

The withdrawal, as brisk as the ready agreement had been, made Niah frantic. Orca, about to pull away, stopped and let himself be caught obediently. Niah’s grip, stronger than usual, could be felt on his forearm. To Orca, it was still a feeble force, but he could sense the goldfish’s agitation.

Having grabbed him without thinking, Niah’s lips repeatedly twitched. He looked down at Orca, then shifted his gaze to the ceiling, then back to the bare skin beneath the wide-open pajama top, a flurry of silent panic. His flustered hesitation took place in quiet. Niah’s hand crept up his forearm to grip his shoulder, and with a bit more courage, he cupped the nape of his neck. Orca meekly accepted the slow, careful touch.

“You can’t… bite me….”

Fingers that had been lingering around his jawline and cheek tentatively rose to fiddle with his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed heavily, and his fingertips trembled slightly. The small plea was a soft goad to Orca. Unaware that saying such things would only encourage his wicked thoughts, the goldfish whined, emphasizing it again.

“It really hurt a lot…. You can’t bite me, Young Master.”

The index finger that had been tracing the line of his mouth slowly invaded it. Orca resisted the impulse to bite down hard and make him cry, instead appreciating Niah’s deeply focused expression. Niah’s other hand, which still rested on his nape, pulled him closer as if staking a claim. Doing as he was bid, Orca let himself be drawn down and l**ked the finger that was about two knuckles deep, ensnaring it with his tongue.

The goldfish tasted sweet. Sweet and fragrant. There was no difference between a sugar-preserved flower garnish and the goldfish’s skin. Except that a flower would crumble with a crunch if you chewed it, while the goldfish would yelp, Ouch. It felt like if he chewed him up, joint by joint, and swallowed him whole, his stomach would be filled to satisfaction. Orca s**ked on the finger as if he would truly eat it.

Niah, engrossed in the suggestive act, let out shallow, panting breaths. It was, indeed, like crushing a ripe peach. The slick, w** sensation was strange, making his lower abdomen somehow tingle. In the space of less than a handspan, his and the young master’s breaths mingled closely. A tingle of goosebumps prickled down his spine.

All the senses in his body grew sharp, and his chest pounded loudly. He curled his toes, clenching them tightly. They had been meeting each other’s eyes the whole time, but for some reason, they now felt scary, and he swallowed hard. Suddenly, heat flared from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Niah pulled his fingers out abruptly. If he continued, he felt he would end up doing something irreversible, so he had no choice but to stop midway.

“This feels strange….”

He threw his arms around Orca in a fierce hug. He felt he couldn’t bear it if he didn’t. He was out of breath just from sitting there. He wondered if he should ask Harriet about this strange feeling when he saw her tomorrow, but then shook his head. He had a strong premonition that it was better to keep this a secret. The thought that he might get scolded, not just teased like that morning, suddenly dominated his mind. And that was even though he hadn’t said, ‘Young Master, please take off your clothes.’

His lower abdomen still felt itchy and tingly. He curled his hands into fists, hiding his trembling fingers inside. The pleasant scent that brushed past his nose calmed his chaotic heart. He pressed himself even closer against the young master.

Buried near Niah’s shoulder, Orca was filled with the regret of unfulfilled satisfaction. He was slightly displeased with the goldfish rubbing against him but let him be. He only pulled Niah’s hips in a little tighter. His mouth felt empty. Instead, he filled every corner of his lungs with Niah’s scent. He burrowed into Niah’s embrace. He inhaled slowly, letting the goldfish flow into his hollow stomach. The goldfish was too small and frail, far from enough to satisfy his hunger. His thirst was not quenched. On the contrary, his appetite returned, making him suffer all the more. The impulse to bite down somewhere arose, but he forced it down.

The dim dressing room was filled with the sound of Niah panting to catch his breath and Orca’s dark desire.

He found himself in his room, having walked there in a daze. Niah changed his clothes like a broken marionette. His body felt like it wasn’t his own as it creaked and he fumbled with his hands and feet several times. After stumbling around for a long while, he finally managed to change into his pajamas. He had buttoned them up all wrong but didn’t notice. He just lay down on the bed with a blank face.

He was ready for bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. He couldn’t seem to think of anything, yet at the same time his jumbled mind felt complicated. He couldn’t tell if it was empty or full. His mind was foggy, yet he was wide awake. The memory from earlier would surface clearly, then blur as if in a fog.

Niah curled up, wrapped tightly in his blanket and comforter. He sniffed at the shirt he was hugging, once again becoming intoxicated by the scent he had been smelling his fill of until just moments ago. A fever suddenly flared up. He felt as if he had spent the entire day basking in the intense sunlight that beat down on a mountaintop on a hot summer day.

Belatedly, he grew dizzy, as if he might faint. The sensation left on his fingertips was proof of what he had done. His skin throbbed as if his heart were moving to different places under it. His breathing grew ragged again.

He quickly closed his eyes. He had tried to forget, but as if it had been waiting, an image formed behind his eyelids. The young master’s handsome face, illuminated by the soft lighting, looked just like the real thing. The lips he had studied in such detail drew near and parted. Words of teasing, about how he was secretly thinking strange thoughts again, were whispered.

The w**, squelching sound replayed in his ears. Anxious for some reason, he pulled his knees up tight. His tailbone tingled. His stomach grew taut with tension.

He forced himself to empty his mind. He pushed the troubling memories far away. It wasn’t easy, and as he struggled with a whimper, Niah thought of the goldfish in the greenhouse pond. He created a new pond in his mind and let them swim. Since he saw them every day, it wasn’t difficult to imagine.

One goldfish hidden by a loofah sponge, one goldfish lying on a water plant, one goldfish swimming splash, splash…. As he pieced together the images of the dozen or so goldfish that would open their mouths wide and gulp at the sight of him, he began to feel a little more at ease. The tension in his shoulders eased.

Until he fell asleep, Niah imagined himself throwing food to the goldfish. He was quite desperate not to leave any room for Orca. Despite these efforts, his chest suddenly tightened, and he tossed and turned for a while, unable to sleep. Whether it was fortunate or not, he had no time to be frightened by the pitch-black surroundings. Nor was he afraid of having nightmares. It was just that he fell asleep later than usual, so morning came quickly.

Niah woke up with a gasp, as if startled. Seeing the rectangle of light coming through the crack in the door, it seemed to be morning already. Normally, he would have shot up and hurried to get ready to go to Orca, but today he couldn’t. He blinked his eyes blankly.

As soon as he managed to collect himself, he fumbled over his clothes to check between his thighs. Not daring to touch it directly, his hand circled the area. The touch that lightly brushed past his lower abdomen to his g**itals was cautious. His eyes instantly crumpled. His front was swollen stiff and convex.

Niah’s libido was on the average side. Every now and then, he would feel ‘that way’. This was simply an instinct, so to relieve the heat that occasionally came upon him, Niah would diligently touch himself.

His cheeks would turn a rosy pink and he would get slightly excited, but he wasn’t particularly interested in it. Having no other experience, it was merely an act for the purpose of making himself comfortable. Sometimes he would even stop without ejaculating. However, doing it openly was embarrassing, so he would always squirm under the covers. Hidden in his blanket, Niah would gently rub his front until it subsided and then let out a deep sigh.

It was the same after Orca returned. Occasionally, he would feel ‘that way’. It could be at dawn or sometimes at night. Niah found it quite bothersome. Unable to just leave it, he would put his hand in. The slow movements of his hand, gripping and stroking his e**ct p**is until it was alright, showed no sign of sincerity.

Until now, masturbation had held no special meaning for Niah. It was just one of the things that bothered him from time to time. A wave of erratic feelings would wash over him, and in the end, he would just feel dejected. Dealing with the sticky fluid that w** his palm was also a hassle.

So, the natural course of action now would be to take care of it roughly and then go down to the basement bathroom. He needed to finish up quickly, wash up fast, and go to the young master. He had to help him bathe, prepare his pre-meal tea; there was much to do. But far from taking care of it, he hesitated to even touch himself. It was definitely his own body, but for some reason, it felt like someone else’s.

Niah, who had touched himself for a brief moment over his pants, pulled his hand back and clutched at the hem of his clothes. He waited, wondering if it would calm down if he just stayed still, but it seemed to grow stiffer and became painful. This was the first time this had ever happened.

This was all because he had had such a dream. This must be a punishment. Because he had made a strange request to the young master yesterday and hadn’t listened to Harriet, the angel must be punishing him. Maybe he was being scolded for making too many wishes.

Niah slowly pulled the blanket up so his fully e**ct p**is wouldn’t rub against his underwear. He buried his face in the shirt and nearly cried. The darkness pressing down on the room grew even deeper under the blanket.

At some point, his breathing had become ragged and escaped through his lips. The area below was swollen as if it would burst, and he could no longer handle it. What if it really did burst if I just endure it like this, he worried. The scents that had seeped into the shirt Orca gave him and the blanket grew stronger with every breath. Niah rubbed against them petulantly and shifted his hips. His crossed feet fidgeted.

“Young Master….”

The young master he met in his dream was exactly the same as in real life. Just as big, hard, handsome, and gentle, and just looking at him made a smile appear and the corners of his mouth turn up. However, there was one huge difference. This part was important.

The young master—that is, the young master in the dream—to me, to me…. That is, in my dream, the young master kissed me. It was a long, delicate kiss. It felt as vivid as if it were real. The most important thing was the fact that the person the young master was kissing was me.

The hand that caressed his cheek and gripped the nape of his neck was familiar. The body heat he felt and the strength of the grip were all exactly the same as the real sensations. The soft yet firm texture of those lips pressed against his own. They pressed down firmly and then rubbed gently.

The breaths they exchanged as they moved, touching deep and then pulling away repeatedly, were hot. A slippery tongue held hot breath and blew it into him. The inside of his mouth, being thoroughly explored, was hot. His tongue was sweet. So sweet it felt like it was shriveling up. If you gulped down a whole bottle of wild cherry blossom honey, it would surely taste just like this.

Things he had never done before continued naturally. He had clutched the young master, hugged him, and clung to him. He had tugged on the shirt he had grabbed, demanding more. He had stood on his tiptoes to press against his chest. Even if he let himself go limp, a large hand would support his back, and the more he begged, the more tightly he was bound.

His heart was overwhelmed. Even knowing it was a dream, his chest fluttered. He wondered if he had actually been born with two hearts. Otherwise, he couldn’t explain why it was pounding so fiercely.

Niah, who had been idly moving his lips, scraped the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was distinctly different from the dream, which was disappointing. He was ashamed of being disappointed, and his cheeks flushed crimson.

Perhaps because he was under the blanket, he was short of breath. He fretted, thinking, ‘What do I do, what do I do,’ to himself. Then he bit his lips hard. The salty taste of blood spread. He thought this might transfer the pain from below, but it had no effect at all.

He couldn’t even guess how long he had been like this. He grew frantic. He couldn’t get out of bed like this, so he had to do something. Slowly, he closed his eyelids. With one hand, he covered his mouth and nose with the shirt, burying his face in it, and with the other hand, he pushed it into his trousers. The hand entering his underwear hesitated, as if touching someone else’s.

His five fingers sluggishly wrapped around his p**is. Holding it clumsily, he tapped it lightly. Niah would squeeze it gently and then stop, repeating the motion. He was trying to cool the heated flesh, but the more he touched it, the hotter it became, as if burned by fire.

It had never been like this before, it had always been just a bother, but today was strange. The tips of his toes tingled, and his body kept trembling.

His mind became hazy, and he could only think of the young master from his dream. His tightened lower abdomen thrummed. He felt as if tears were about to burst forth, so he buried his face in the shirt. Thinking only that he had to go soon, he tightly wrapped his hand around his fully swollen p**is and rubbed.

“Haah, haah… Young Mas—, uht. Heuuu…. Ueung….”

Niah clamped his lips shut to stop the words ‘Young Master’ that kept slipping out. His hesitant motions gradually became more persistent. The small sound of friction as skin rubbed against skin mingled with his feverish excitement. The touch that had been unable to rub boldly now became swift. He felt like a stranger to himself, so engrossed in this act. He was suddenly scared, but he couldn’t stop.

The lips he had clamped shut parted against his will and let out a m**n. The words ‘Young Master’ that escaped through the thin opening naturally followed. He tried to hold it back, but it wasn’t working. It kept slipping out, and in the end, he called out the name to his heart’s content.