In the Ancient Ehyut Empire…
After a day and night of sleep and vacation, Isra and Sett got into a caravan that was leaving for the capital and hitched in a ride. They planned to visit more Tombs—after all, Sett was still mulling about his failure.
But they planned to visit the capital before that.
The days beca nights as they travelled and Isra and Sett bonded through the proximity. She taught him her random skills every day—how to cook, how to find water in a desert, how to distinguish between types of cactuses, and so on and so forth. She also taught him about the symptoms he should be afraid of.
Hallucinations in desert heat, mirages, dehydration.
Sett, wanting to impress her, learned everything religiously, and she praised him for it with nights spent with her sleeping in his bosom.
Usually, he would have been bold—too bold, always invading her space with reckless confidence. If it were the him of a few days ago, her waistband would already be broken. Invaded. Conquered. But sothing had shifted.
He had tad a bit.
He beca a bit of a gentleman.
He never crossed big boundaries.
Sett no longer wanted to just be in a deep, physical bond with Isra. He didn't just want to see her pleased—physically—with him.
He wanted to see it, yes. He wanted to know what expression she would have if he pleased her like he pleased Zainah, if he made his hand do its wonders.
If he made her moan, how would she relax around him?
What kind of face would she make if he began using...
He wanted to know how their bond would deepen.
But at the sa ti, he wanted to know who Isra was.
And for that, he could restrain himself.
One day, he will have what he wants.
Thus, the nights were spend with her laying against his bosom, him stroking her hair as she told him stories of her ti in Tombs.
He would gasp, he would genuinely beco nervous, and when the final monts of victory happens, he would laugh like a kid.
And then he would sleep.
Of course, so impulses could never vanish even if one wanted and his roaming hands at night always proved that point right. His hands still wandered in the dark, still traced the curve of her back, sotis nestled between the crack of her thighs to feel the warmth, and sotis his finger moved while resting in that warmth.
He loved that warmth. He was tempted beyond asure at tis.
But she would open her eyes and look at him softly.
"Is this it?" she would ask without asking.
He never pushed too far. Not anymore.
He wanted to prove that he was worthy of holding her like that.
And just like that, the journey ended.
When they arrived at the capital, the spell of the road broke. Sett stretched, rolling out the stiffness from travel. "Grandma, you go wash up. I have to et soone."
Isra smirked, running a hand through her tousled hair. "Aren't your wives scattered across their own territories? Can you survive a few hours without a woman wrapped around you?"
He rubbed the back of his head, grinning. "So of them are, but Zainah's here. She wasn't given a territory."
"Ah, that playful childhood friend of yours."
Sett's smile softened. "Yeah, her."
…
Sett slipped into the dimly lit boudoir, the scent of blue rose and warm skin thick in the air. His sharp eyes imdiately locked onto a pair of slender, sculpted legs peeking out from beneath the silk sheets—smooth, pale, and tempting.
Unable to resist, he ran a slow, teasing finger along her calf.
The legs twitched.
"Annoying flies, didn't the maids clean you up?" the woman mumbled, voice husky, though she wasn't asleep. The subtle rustling beneath the sheets told him she was busy with sothing else.
Smirking, Sett reached out and gently pinched her pinkie toe. A small, involuntary shudder ran up her legs.
He chuckled, then, without hesitation, slipped under the sheets.
The heat beneath was stifling, intimate. Tangled in the ss of fabric, Sett found Zainah sprawled on her side, her thin nightgown bunched up around her waist, revealing tantalizing glimpses of bare skin. Strands of dark hair clung to her flushed face, and in her hands was a book, its pages trembling from her startled grip.
"AHHH!" she gasped, feeling firm hands slide around her chest, pressing into the soft swell of her curves.
"Sett, Sett, save !"
She panicked like a startled goose.
Who had entered her room?!
Sett's breath ghosted over her ear. "Don't worry, it's ."
Recognition flickered in her wide, surprised eyes. Her breath hitched. And then, her lips parted, but this ti, not for a scream.
"Bastard!"
…
Soon, Sett was walking out of Zainah's room with her tangled around him like a sloth. She was a sloth, Sett had to admit.
Reading romantic fantasy this late into the morning would be enough to get her grounded for days—especially considering that she was rebuked by his mother last ti.
No wonder she was being so sneaky about it in her own room.
But the fact that the main character had been renad to Sett made him happy enough, so of course, Sett was just gloating inwardly.
This scaredy cat, he thought.
The maids around were pleasantly surprised upon seeing him and they all began to clamor about his return. Sett smiled at so of them as he passed by.
"Where are you going?" Zainah asked. "I am still in my sleeping clothes, Sett. You are not going to et your mom, are you?"
She just innocently laid in his arms.
"No, I am not. She is having court right now."
Zainah sighed in relief, her cute face becoming lazy again. "Where are you headed then?"
"To et my grandmother. You haven't t her much, so let's go get her blessings."
"Eh?!" She jolted upright. "Sett, wait. Wait!"
"No waiting."
He took off at a run.
"PLEASE, LET GET DRESSED! PLEASE, BABY!"
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