ORCA 88

Because he was covered by the blanket, he felt like he was running out of air. He panted, thinking to himself, “What do I do, what do I do.” Then, he bit down hard on his lips. The salty taste of blood spread. He had hoped that doing so might transfer the pain from below, but it was completely ineffective.

He couldn’t even estimate how long he had been like this. He felt anxious. He couldn’t leave the bed like this, so he knew he had to do something. He closed his eyelids slowly. With one hand, he pressed his face into the shirt he was holding to cover his mouth and nose, and with the other, he pushed his hand into his pajama bottoms. His hand, entering his underwear, felt hesitant, as if he were touching someone else.

Five fingers clumsily curled around his manhood. He grasped it awkwardly and tapped it. Niah repeated the motion, massaging it slightly and then stopping. He tried to cool down the heat, but the more he touched it, the hotter it became, as if he had been burned by fire.

He had never been like this before; usually, it was just a hassle, but today it was strange. His toes tingled and his body kept trembling. His mind drifted, and he could only think of the young master he had seen in his dream. His tightened lower abdomen throbbed. Feeling as if tears were about to burst out, he buried his face in the shirt. Thinking only that he had to go to him soon, he gripped his fully engorged manhood tightly and rubbed it.

“Haa, haa… Young mas…, urgh. Huuu…. Mmm….”

Niah clenched his teeth to stop the word “Young Master” from spilling out. The hand movements, which had overcome hesitation, gradually became persistent. The small friction sounds of skin rubbing against skin mixed into the rising excitement. His hand, which had been unable to rub freely, now moved rapidly. He felt like a stranger to himself, being so engrossed in this act. He felt a sudden jolt of fear, but he couldn’t stop.

His clenched lips parted against his will, letting out moans. The word “Young Master,” leaking through the thin gap, followed naturally. He tried to hold it back, but it didn’t go well. It kept popping out, and in the end, he called it to his heart’s content.

“Young, Master… hutt, ah…. Young, haa…. Young Masteeer…. Urgh.”

His heart hammered violently. His toes curled, and sweat ran down his spine. Niah let out ragged breaths. His curled-up body twitched and trembled. Every muscle contracted around his lower abdomen.

Niah, who had been curled up like an egg in a nest, collapsed completely the moment he ejaculated. The blanket rippled and trembled for a moment before rising and falling calmly. A sense of powerlessness permeated his rough, panting breath. Now that the excitement had faded, his manhood left behind guilt instead of pain.

I must never get caught….

Niah swore the same thing to himself multiple times. He was certain that the moment anyone found out he had done such a thing while thinking of his master, he would be kicked out of the mansion. No master would want to keep a servant by his side who dreamed of kissing him and even masturbated because of it. His palm, stained with sticky fluid, felt hot. Tears welled up in his eyes.

He washed his pajama pants and underwear particularly well and hung them on the clothesline. It was a relief that he hadn’t been late, as it seemed he had woken up early because of the dream. Niah walked slowly toward the center of the mansion. His steps, climbing the stairs and walking down the hallway, were dejected. He acted like a sinner going to face the judgment of a court. His intimidated shoulders slumped. He had always been impatient and wanted to go quickly, but today, he found himself wishing this hallway would continue forever. He couldn’t help but sigh, unsure if he could avoid being caught by Orca. His gaze, fallen to the floor, stared only at the dark red carpet. Just then, the door opened, and a massive shadow blocked Niah’s path.

Niah let out a strange, shrill sound. Orca caught him just as he was about to tumble over from shock. Niah, startled even more by the arm wrapping around his waist, struggled to break free from his embrace. Of course, it was impossible to escape. Being held so firmly, he had to give up quickly. Even after setting Niah straight, Orca slowly let go, as if worried he might collapse.

“Why are you so startled?”

“No, I, well, that’s not it… uh… ah, Good morning, sir…”

Orca swept his hand through Niah’s messy curly hair as if tickling it. The hair scattering through his fingers reflected the sunlight pouring in through the window. His light Darjeeling-colored eyes sparkled in the sun. He stroked the back of Niah’s head and led him into the room. Niah, led naturally, stood blankly and watched him.

Satisfied with that blind gaze, Orca toyed with Niah’s earlobe. He liked the soft flesh. He traced it with his fingernails and wondered how much it would hurt if he were to cut it off. Soon, he shook his head and tilted it. Niah mimicked him without realizing it. His tilted gaze remained fixed on only one spot.

Having released the earlobe, Orca now stroked Niah’s neckline. The neck, wrapped in soft skin, was slender and fragile. Orca’s voice, intended to erase his own sinister desires, flowed out affectionately.

“You dried it all before coming today. You usually arrive all wet.”

“Pardon? Ah… my hair…. Well, today, I was standing outside for a long time…”

“Why?”

Niah pulled his gaze away hesitantly and looked down at his and Orca’s shoes. The rounded toe of his shoe and one tip of Orca’s slipper were touching as if kissing. He slowly turned his foot to misalign them, then touched them together again. Niah, feeling awkward and intimidated, gathered his hands in front of him.

He wasn’t “like” a pervert; he was, accurately and certainly, a pervert. He was a pervert among perverts who couldn’t even pray, afraid that if he asked the angel to make the “stupid goldfish” forget what he’d done, he’d be given an even worse punishment. After stalling for a while, he gave an answer that was neither truth nor lie. His timid voice betrayed his hesitation.

“Umm… just, there was a lot of laundry…”

As he gave such an unremarkable reason, his pale neck turned bright red. Orca, who had been quite puzzled, quietly replied, “I see.” The sound of Niah’s pounding heart beat against his ears. Orca kept his mouth shut, sensing that if he let on that he knew, Niah would be terrified and run away.

He was willing to pretend he didn’t know. He concluded that Niah had either been having strange thoughts alone again or was just being shy because he was embarrassed by what he (Orca) had done yesterday, and he convinced himself of that. He intended to wait, thinking that if Niah was just shy, he would get used to it someday.

Since Niah’s nature was simple, he figured he would return to normal by tonight or tomorrow morning. It was a bit regrettable not to hear the chattering voice, but hearing the sound of a heart pounding or the sound of ragged breathing from morning till night wasn’t so bad either. The goldfish’s gaze followed him around anyway.

So, he left him alone—the way he kept trying to stay at a distance, the way he would look intently only to avoid his eyes when they met, the way he would flinch for no reason, and the way he would suddenly dash off saying he had to go somewhere, unlike his usual self.

Though his heart felt frustrated watching him flounder, he kept his mouth shut and just watched. He could do so because he knew Niah would return to him. In fact, Niah returned quickly and stayed by his side. Although he stayed at a considerable distance, that was fine too.

On the contrary, he found it admirable that Niah did his job faithfully even while feeling shy. It was fun to watch him move diligently while glancing sideways to see if Orca was watching. His small body flapped busily here and there. He would follow him quickly, then run back quickly. He was just like a goldfish swimming in water. If he had been born as a fur-bearing animal, he would have been a squirrel the size of a palm or a bird the size of a finger. But he couldn’t imagine an orange-patterned squirrel. A goldfish suited him best after all.

He even began making plans, such as finding an opportunity to let Niah shapeshift in a fishbowl—no, a bathtub. In his mind, he pictured the pale orange hair and white skin turning into shimmering scales like moonlight and fluttering fins. He had only seen his shapeshifted form once, but it must have left quite an impression, as he remembered it vividly.

The goldfish that had flapped in his grasp had been small and insignificant. The small body that had writhed in agony had been just as small and trivial when human. He recalled the sight of Niah, soaked and gasping for mercy. Now that he looked at it, he didn’t seem particularly different whether human or goldfish.

The goldfish was white, weak, often flinching, and orange. However, seeing him just once was far from enough to satisfy his greed. Orca found himself wanting to observe Niah in his goldfish form thoroughly.

About this much, no, it was this much.