ORCA 48

Orca slid his hands under Niah’s arms and lifted him up. After moving him to the center of the bed and laying him down, he climbed on top to watch the goldfish lying beneath him. It was because he feared Niah would squirm again. To prevent that, he narrowed his knees to pin down Niah’s lower body.

Niah clutched the hem of his top firmly. His heart was thumping due to the tension. Orca leaned down close, smoothing the orange hair scattered across the white sheets. Niah was completely enclosed within his shadow.

“You’re a good boy.”

The fear he felt from the intimidation of Orca’s large, bulky physique lasted only a moment; the ticklish touch completely unraveled Niah. A low whisper pressed gently against his ear. Since he was called a good boy, he felt like he had to behave.

Niah rested his head softly against Orca’s hand, which was placed beside him. The large palm soon cradled his cheek, rubbing it gently. His heart settled.

“Come on.”

Niah squirmed with a shy expression, then relaxed the strength in his hands. Orca did not miss the gap where his hand had loosened and pushed right in. Niah squeezed his eyes shut.

Orca, having discovered the bruise on Niah’s side, persisted doggedly. It was all because of Niah, who had come back sporting bruises all over, yet kept his mouth shut about who had done it.

“Ah, ugh… It hurts, it hurts. Young master… Ugh.”

Niah lightly pushed away the back of Orca’s hand, which was busy tormenting his waist. But rather than moving, Orca just pressed down harder, keeping his position. Tears welled up in Niah’s eyes. No matter how much he begged, leaning into the palm resting on his cheek, Orca would not listen this time. He knew why, but he couldn’t help it.

“Not going to tell me?”

Niah parted his lips, only ragged breaths escaping. He even tried to turn his head to avoid Orca, who was looking down at him from point-blank range. But that was futile; his face was trapped in Orca’s hand, and his lower pelvis remained pinned and immobilized.

Furthermore, his waist had also been conquered. He had no desire to escape, but even if he did, he had to lie still because the position made it impossible to even try.

Meanwhile, the skin exposed under the hem of his clothes bothered him. The thick fingers and somewhat rough palm roaming over his bare skin made him feel strange. That was the problem—if there was a problem. It was a different sensation from the pain of touching the bruised areas. Niah couldn’t bring himself to give the answer his young master wanted, instead shivering and moaning occasionally.

He couldn’t bring himself to say who had done it. It was a question he had never heard before. No one had ever been curious about where he had been or what he had been doing when he got hurt. That was why he felt uncertain about whether it would really be okay to say that Pepe had hurt him.

Perhaps he would be caught by Pepe and scolded severely. Of course, if he didn’t behave well like now, he would be scolded by the young master, but he preferred the latter.

“Niah.”

Orca found the bruises staining Niah’s waist—both blue and red—deeply unpleasant. He was also angry at the goldfish for not revealing the culprit. Because Niah wouldn’t speak and only rubbed his cheek against him, Orca persistently badgered him.

Even though he tried to touch him gently, the goldfish looked up at him with teary, resentful eyes. His damp breath was mixed with whimpering sounds. As Orca pressed his upper body closer, Niah clung to his habit of calling him “Young master. Young master,” desperately. The small calls leaked out in soft, rounded murmurs. Orca’s heightened senses swallowed every sound the goldfish made into his ears.

He couldn’t grab Niah’s slender waist with full force for fear it might burst. He was cautious, worried that his soft, delicate skin might be torn by his fingernails. There was no way he could do anything worse to a goldfish who looked like he would die if left alone.

Perhaps it had been different at first, but that was how it was now. He didn’t want to kill him. And yet, to see him appear with such injuries after not seeing him for a few days—he felt dizzy with rage. He felt even more annoyed at the thought that if he had sent him back earlier as planned, he would have remained unaware of this forever.

“Niah. If you don’t tell me, I’m really going to punish you.”

Niah shook his head vigorously at the terrifying words delivered in such a soft tone. It would be a disaster if he were kicked out of the room again, or worse, thrown out of the mansion entirely. It would naturally be hard for a goldfish like him to find a new job, but he hated the idea of not being able to see the young master right now even more. It had been so difficult to get back in here; at this rate, he felt he would never be able to even get close to him, let alone stay by his side.

As these worries crowded in, he was suddenly struck by the fear: What if he gets hurt like last time?

He was reminded of a bright red pond created by pooling blood. Blood had poured out, staining his shirt and dripping onto the carpet. The words, I’m doing this because you didn’t listen, echoed in his head.

“Keep, keep… why do you keep… I don’t want to, Young master. Please don’t disappear…”

To Orca, Niah’s answer was a significant leap.

The goldfish was in a frenzy of whimpering, crying all by himself after imagining who-knows-what. He sniffled, wrinkling his nose, and kept shaking his head to say no. His pouting lower lip trembled. This inexplicable refusal was both trivial and adorable. As he monopolized that sight from above, a wicked heart sprouted and soaked the goldfish.

“Ah, it hurts, ugh… Young master, is this, hic, is this the punishment…?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Orca tapped his forehead against Niah’s—Niah, who was squinting at him while lying in Orca’s palm. His hands moved without rest. He rubbed back and forth as if tickling, then smoothed over him with a bit of pressure at his fingertips. Every time he did, Niah’s whimpering voice rose and fell.

His breathing grew increasingly rapid. The hot, flushed breath condensed into his palms, layering over each other. Tears of sorrow were just the icing on the cake. His wildly beating heart didn’t push Orca away but rather pulled him closer, refusing to let go. Instead of pushing him away, he tried to move himself to a side that didn’t hurt even while being tormented.

As he was led obediently, his ribs could be felt. His body, devoid of muscle, revealed his bones in detail. He looked defenseless. Orca followed the contours caught by his fingertips, wedging himself between the bed and Niah’s back. As he swept down the spine, he inevitably felt the protruding bones. He could almost count them, segment by segment.

The goldfish flinched and arched his waist. Not missing the gap, Orca slid his arm right in. The pathetic little body was more than covered by one arm. There was enough space left over to fit two of him. He didn’t like that emptiness very much. He pulled his inserted arm back slightly and gripped his waist.

“Young master…”

The goldfish’s hand, which had been flailing in the air, landed softly on Orca’s shoulder. His other hand fidgeted to pull down the hem of his shirt that had rolled up. As Niah rolled his eyes, watching Orca for a reaction, Orca slid his hand to grip the waist he was holding. The hand that had just been on his clothes immediately grabbed Orca’s wrist. A fragile pressure could be felt on his shoulder, too.

The goldfish reacted sensitively to every one of Orca’s movements. He was completely flustered and at a loss. Yet, he couldn’t tell him to stop, nor could he firmly push him away.

The room, silent in the middle of the night, was filled with the goldfish’s shallow breathing, his whimpering, and his desperate pleas. Every time Orca teased his waist, the sheets rustled in unison. The goldfish, like a ripe orange, burst with sweetness with every touch.

The locked gazes reflected faint resentment and flushed emotion. The goldfish, lit by the moonlight outside the window, shimmered as if damp. The scattered words were all directed at him. He smelled of flowers and trees. Orca was completely lost, his senses stolen by the act of admiring such a goldfish. Their pressed foreheads throbbed.

“…Oh my.”

Orca, who had almost forgotten his original purpose and spent the whole night doing nothing but this, finally pulled himself together, albeit belatedly. It was because the goldfish, who had been urging him, “Young master, Young master,” began to breathe rhythmically, his face looking as if he were about to fall asleep. The strength with which he had been clutching Orca’s wrist and shoulder also gradually weakened. By the time he noticed it, it was no longer a grasp, but merely a light touch.