Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 438: Bath (R-18)

The hot water cascaded over Kael's shoulders like a belated blessing, trickling slowly down his tense back and carrying away the accumulated weight of days—perhaps weeks—of tension, fear, and responsibility.

He rested one hand on the stone wall of the bath, closing his eyes for a moment longer than necessary, feeling his body finally succumb to the weariness he had been ignoring since waking from his coma.

The steam filled the space, muffling the sounds of the mansion, creating a small, isolated world where, for a few minutes, he could pretend there was no Empire, Emperor, ancient pacts, or three women capable of turning his life upside down.

He took a deep breath, letting his head fall slightly forward, the water running through his hair as he tried to organize his thoughts.

He didn't immediately notice the change in the air, the slight shift, the almost imperceptible sound of footsteps beyond the steam.

Only when a different presence made itself felt, too close to ignore, did he open his eyes, confused.

"I—" Kael choked at the beginning of the sentence, turning slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Amelia didn't answer immediately.

He only felt her body approach from behind, firm, determined, as it always had been. The touch wasn't abrupt, nor inappropriate—it was inevitable.

Her hands landed on his shoulders, her thumbs pressing on precise points of tension, drawing an involuntary sigh from him that he couldn't suppress.

The contrast between the warmth of the water and her warmth was enough to make him close his eyes again, against his will.

"You seemed to need help," Amelia's voice sounded low, too close to his ear. There was no open provocation there, only a dangerous familiarity, that intimacy built over time that needed no explanation.

Kael tried to answer, but the words simply wouldn't come.

His body, a traitor, relaxed even further under her touch, his shoulders yielding as she began to spread the soap in slow, deliberate movements, as if tending to something precious—or silently reclaiming what he had always considered his.

Before he could recover, he noticed another presence before him.

The steam parted enough for him to see Irelia standing there, as calm as if she were on a training field, her gaze firm, assessing, but there was something different in her expression. Something softer. Closer.

She reached out without saying anything, taking the soap from Amelia's fingers with a calm, almost ceremonial gesture.

"Be quiet," Irelia said simply, her voice firm but not harsh. "You talk too much when you're tired."

Kael let out a low, nervous laugh, completely defeated. "I haven't even started talking…"

"Exactly," she replied, taking a step closer.

The water trickled between them, the constant sound filling the silences that no one seemed willing to break.

Irelia began to wash his chest with sure, precise movements, as if it were just another task to be accomplished—even though the slight blush on her cheeks betrayed otherwise.

Amelia, behind him, remained there, a solid presence, her hands carefully sliding down his back, never crossing a clear line, but getting dangerously close enough to make him feel everything.

Kael swallowed hard, his jaw tense. He was painfully aware of every second, every touch, every breath too close.

His body reacted despite itself, and he hated how impossible it was to hide it. Still, he said nothing. He didn't move away. He just stayed there, letting that moment exist.

"You disappeared," Amelia murmured, her voice lower now, less firm. "Without explanation."

"I know," Kael finally replied, his voice hoarse. "It wasn't a choice."

Irelia looked up at him for a moment, her eyes meeting his.

"Next time," she said, "let me know."

He nodded slowly.

"I promise." Silence returned, but it wasn't heavy. It was intimate.

The kind of quiet that only exists when there's no longer a need for immediate accusations, just the realization that, despite everything, they were still there. Together. Complicated. Irrationally connected.

Amelia rested her forehead briefly between his shoulder blades, a small, almost vulnerable gesture, before pulling away slightly.

"You look like you're about to faint," she commented.

"I feel that way, you're both naked washing me like this. Any man would be about to faint, don't you think?" Kael admitted.

Amelia's low laugh echoed softly in the steam, a rare sound of genuine amusement, as she stepped back a little further, her hands still tracing light lines on his back, as if marking her territory.

"He's right, Irelia. Any man would faint... or do something far more interesting."

Kael felt the heat rise up his neck, not only from the hot water, but from the way her words hung in the air, laden with promise.

He tried to move, to brace his hands against the wall again to gain some balance, but his body betrayed any attempt at control. He was stiff, painfully aware of their closeness, of the touch that kept him on edge.

Irelia, always the most direct, didn't look away. Her eyes drifted down for a moment, assessing without shame, before returning to his face. A subtle smile curved her lips—not provocative like Amelia's, but confident, as if she knew exactly the power she wielded there.

"You're holding back so much," she murmured, her voice low and firm, echoing what he already felt.

Without warning, her hand slid down, tracing the muscles of his abdomen with deliberate slowness, her fingers brushing against his damp, sensitive skin.

The touch was precise, like everything Irelia did: a swordswoman cleaning her sword, or perhaps reclaiming it.

Kael inhaled sharply, his whole body tense as her fingers finally enveloped his penis, firm yet gentle, the soap spreading creamy lather along its length. It throbbed in her palm, hot and stiff, betraying any remaining composure.

"I'll just wash it," Irelia said, her eyes fixed on his, challenging. "Since you're holding back so much. Relax, Kael. Let me take care of it."

The words came out as a soft command, and she began to move—slowly, up and down, her thumb tracing the sensitive head in slow circles, spreading the soap with a pressure that was both relieving and torturous.

The water cascaded over them, washing away the lather little by little, but her touch didn't stop, squeezing at the base before sliding again, rhythmic, relentless.

Kael groaned softly, his head falling back against Amelia's shoulder, who laughed again, her hands now on his hips, holding him in place.

"Good girl, Irelia. He needs this more than he admits."

Pleasure rose in waves, the steam making everything more intense, more humid. Irelia quickened the pace slightly, her other hand resting on his chest to keep him steady, her breasts brushing against his torso as she leaned closer.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she whispered, but the glint in her eyes said she knew he wouldn't ask.

Amelia, from behind, lightly bit his earlobe, her nails gently scratching his thighs. "Or if you want more. We're here for that, after all."

Kael gritted his teeth, the muscles in his thighs trembling under Irelia's relentless touch, but he said nothing—neither asked her to stop, nor begged for more. His silence was a fragile wall, pride or exhaustion keeping him stubborn, even as pleasure consumed him.

Irelia raised an eyebrow, the rhythm of her hand pausing for a second, squeezing him firmly at the base, feeling him throb desperately against her palm.

"Look at that… not a word. You're stubborn even about that," she teased, her voice hoarse with amusement and desire. Her fingers slid upwards, soaking him completely with the hot water that fell, washing away the soap and exposing every vein, every throbbing inch.

She masturbated him more slowly now, torturously, her thumb pressing against the sensitive glans in slow circles, spreading the pre-ejaculate that was already leaking. "Think you can take more? Let's see how long it takes you to beg."

Amelia laughed against the skin of his neck, her teeth grazing the curve of his shoulder before trailing down, lightly nibbling his ear as one of her hands ventured forward, brushing his balls beneath, massaging with nails sharp enough to send shivers down his spine.

"He loves pretending he's in control, Irelia. But look at this… so hard, so wet. I bet he comes just from hearing you talk dirty."

The air was heavy, the steam mingling with Kael's muffled moans, his back arching involuntarily, his hips pushing toward Irelia's hand despite himself.

They teased him mercilessly—Irelia squeezing and releasing, Amelia whispering obscenities in his ear: "Imagine the two of us on our knees… or you fucking us against this wall. Admit it, Kael. You want it."

He snorted, his breath ragged, but still silent, his eyes half-closed in pure, delicious torment. Irelia exchanged a knowing glance with Amelia, a predatory smile playing on her lips.

"Stubborn to the end, huh? Fine… I'll use something better to clean this properly." Without hesitation, she slowly lowered herself, her knees touching the damp bathroom floor, the water running down her firm breasts and the curve of her back.

Her lips parted, warm and soft, and she swallowed his entire cock in one go—deep, all the way to her throat, the moist heat enveloping it like a velvet fist.

Kael cried out hoarsely, his hands flying to her hair, his fingers digging into the wet strands as she sucked voraciously, her tongue circling its length, sucking hard on the way up before sliding down again, her nose brushing against the base of his pubic hair. The sound was obscene: wet slurps mixed with falling water, echoing in the steam.

At the same instant, Amelia bit his ear harder, her teeth digging into the sensitive lobe as she licked the blood that trickled slightly, the sharp pain contrasting with the overwhelming pleasure.

"That's it, Irelia… swallow it all. Make him come in your greedy mouth," she murmured, her free hand now squeezing his chest, pinching his nipple.

Irelia moaned around him, the vibrations sending shocks through Kael's body, which writhed between them, lost in the rhythm—the deep sucking, the possessive bite, the steam enveloping them like a cocoon of pure ecstasy.

He wouldn't last much longer.