GUARD ⟡ Toru Shiratori

The steam curled in dense, lazy tendrils through the bath chambers, clinging to the slick marble walls and gilded mirrors. The scent of rose oil and jasmine mingled in the humid air, thick enough to taste on the tongue. Beyond the carved wooden partition separating the bathing pool, the soft slosh of water echoed. Delicate, unhurried, the rhythmic sound of someone indulging in private luxury.

Toru's breath hitched, his broad back pressed flush against the high beams of the ceiling, his body concealed in the shadows where the flickering lantern light couldn’t reach. His eyes, sharp with the predatory focus of his clan, tracked every movement below. The way the water rippled as their body shifted, the way their fingers traced idle patterns along their own skin, slick with moisture. His own hand was already down the front of his loose trousers, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on painful.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He bit down on his lower lip, stifling the groan that threatened to spill out. His cock throbbed in his palm, pre-cum smearing against his fingers as he stroked himself in time with the slow, hypnotic motions of their bath. He’d imagined this too many times, how it would feel to slip into that water with them, to press them against the edge of the pool, to feel their skin slide against his. How their breath would hitch when he finally pushed inside, when he made them take every inch of him, when he ruined them so thoroughly they’d forget they were royalty and he was just a guard.

His hips jerked involuntarily, his thumb swiping over the leaking tip of his cock as a shudder wracked through him. The wet sound of his hand working over his length was almost lost beneath the gentle lapping of water, but it made his pulse spike all the same. What if they heard him? What if they looked up, caught him like this—disgraced, debauched, fucking his fist like some common pervert instead of the disciplined assassin he pretended to be? But the thought only made him harder.

His free hand braced against the beam above him, fingers digging into the wood as his breathing turned ragged. His mind spun with every filthy fantasy he’d ever concocted—bending them over the royal throne, fucking them raw in the gardens where anyone could see, marking their neck with bites deep enough to scar. He wanted them ruined. Wanted them dripping with him. Wanted them to know, even if they never spoke of it, that they were his in every way that mattered.

A particularly sharp twist of his wrist made his thighs tremble. His balls tightened, heat coiling low in his gut as his thrusts turned uneven, frantic. He couldn’t stop now. Not when they were right there, not when they were so close he could almost taste the salt of their skin, not when...

A soft, breathy sigh drifted up from below.

Toru’s vision whited out as he came, teeth sinking into his own arm to muffle the ragged sound clawing its way up his throat. His cum spilled hot and thick over his fingers, dripping onto the wooden beams beneath him as his body shuddered through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, he just panted there, listening to the distant sounds of their bath continuing as if nothing had happened.

The steam curled in dense, lazy tendrils through the bath chambers, clinging to the slick marble walls and gilded mirrors. The scent of rose oil and jasmine mingled in the humid air, thick enough to taste on the tongue. Beyond the carved wooden partition separating the bathing pool, the soft slosh of water echoed. Delicate, unhurried, the rhythmic sound of someone indulging in private luxury.

Toru's breath hitched, his broad back pressed flush against the high beams of the ceiling, his body concealed in the shadows where the flickering lantern light couldn’t reach. His eyes, sharp with the predatory focus of his clan, tracked every movement below. The way the water rippled as her body shifted, the way her fingers traced idle patterns along her own skin, slick with moisture. His own hand was already down the front of his loose trousers, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on painful.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He bit down on his lower lip, stifling the groan that threatened to spill out. His cock throbbed in his palm, pre-cum smearing against his fingers as he stroked himself in time with the slow, hypnotic motions of her bath. He’d imagined this too many times, how it would feel to slip into that water with her, to press them against the edge of the pool, to feel her skin slide against his. How her breath would hitch when he finally pushed inside, when he made her take every inch of him, when he ruined her so thoroughly she’d forget she was royalty and he was just a guard.

His hips jerked involuntarily, his thumb swiping over the leaking tip of his cock as a shudder wracked through him. The wet sound of his hand working over his length was almost lost beneath the gentle lapping of water, but it made his pulse spike all the same. What if she heard him? What if she looked up, caught him like this—disgraced, debauched, fucking his fist like some common pervert instead of the disciplined assassin he pretended to be? But the thought only made him harder.

His free hand braced against the beam above him, fingers digging into the wood as his breathing turned ragged. His mind spun with every filthy fantasy he’d ever concocted—bending her over the royal throne, fucking her raw in the gardens where anyone could see, marking her neck with bites deep enough to scar. He wanted her ruined. Wanted her dripping with him. Wanted her to know, even if she never spoke of it, that she was his in every way that mattered.

A particularly sharp twist of his wrist made his thighs tremble. His balls tightened, heat coiling low in his gut as his thrusts turned uneven, frantic. He couldn’t stop now. Not when she was right there, not when she was so close he could almost taste the salt of her skin, not when...

A soft, breathy sigh drifted up from below.

Toru’s vision whited out as he came, teeth sinking into his own arm to muffle the ragged sound clawing its way up his throat. His cum spilled hot and thick over his fingers, dripping onto the wooden beams beneath him as his body shuddered through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, he just panted there, listening to the distant sounds of her bath continuing as if nothing had happened.

The steam curled in dense, lazy tendrils through the bath chambers, clinging to the slick marble walls and gilded mirrors. The scent of rose oil and jasmine mingled in the humid air, thick enough to taste on the tongue. Beyond the carved wooden partition separating the bathing pool, the soft slosh of water echoed. Delicate, unhurried, the rhythmic sound of someone indulging in private luxury.

Toru's breath hitched, his broad back pressed flush against the high beams of the ceiling, his body concealed in the shadows where the flickering lantern light couldn’t reach. His eyes, sharp with the predatory focus of his clan, tracked every movement below. The way the water rippled as his body shifted, the way his fingers traced idle patterns along his own skin, slick with moisture. His own hand was already down the front of his loose trousers, gripping himself with a desperation that bordered on painful.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He bit down on his lower lip, stifling the groan that threatened to spill out. His cock throbbed in his palm, pre-cum smearing against his fingers as he stroked himself in time with the slow, hypnotic motions of his bath. He’d imagined this too many times, how it would feel to slip into that water with him, to press them against the edge of the pool, to feel his skin slide against his. How his breath would hitch when he finally pushed inside, when he made him take every inch of him, when he ruined him so thoroughly he’d forget he was royalty and he was just a guard.

His hips jerked involuntarily, his thumb swiping over the leaking tip of his cock as a shudder wracked through him. The wet sound of his hand working over his length was almost lost beneath the gentle lapping of water, but it made his pulse spike all the same. What if he heard him? What if he looked up, caught him like this—disgraced, debauched, fucking his fist like some common pervert instead of the disciplined assassin he pretended to be? But the thought only made him harder.

His free hand braced against the beam above him, fingers digging into the wood as his breathing turned ragged. His mind spun with every filthy fantasy he’d ever concocted—bending him over the royal throne, fucking him raw in the gardens where anyone could see, marking his neck with bites deep enough to scar. He wanted him ruined. Wanted him dripping with him. Wanted him to know, even if he never spoke of it, that he was his in every way that mattered.

A particularly sharp twist of his wrist made his thighs tremble. His balls tightened, heat coiling low in his gut as his thrusts turned uneven, frantic. He couldn’t stop now. Not when he was right there, not when he was so close he could almost taste the salt of his skin, not when...

A soft, breathy sigh drifted up from below.

Toru’s vision whited out as he came, teeth sinking into his own arm to muffle the ragged sound clawing its way up his throat. His cum spilled hot and thick over his fingers, dripping onto the wooden beams beneath him as his body shuddered through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, he just panted there, listening to the distant sounds of his bath continuing as if nothing had happened.