220 Charybdis
As I sensed Charybdis's discomfort ripple through the room, I moved toward her. She was never at ease in gatherings, especially with strangers. People made her uneasy; only a few exceptions—Scylla, Medea, and I—had ever managed to gain her trust, after a long time of fight and blood shedding....
Even though she'd spent time with the Trojans, she couldn't seem to find a natural ease with them, nothing like the familiarity she shared with us.
"Let's talk," I murmured softly as I neared her.
My presence alone was enough to scatter the nearby Trojans, who parted and left us in an instant. Charybdis looked up at me, her usual stoic expression easing ever so slightly, relief flickering in her gaze as if I had pulled her from a raging sea. Without a word, she fell into step beside me, and we slipped away to a secluded corner of the hall, a place quiet enough for us to speak without interruption. I could feel a lingering gaze on us, one that felt like Atalanta's—and perhaps another's—but I pushed the thought aside.
Once we were alone, I offered a reassuring smile. "You did well today, Charybdis. Keep up the good work and stay close to Aeneas."
Charybdis nodded in acknowledgment, but there was a faint frown that creased her brow, subtle yet unmistakable.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sensing her hesitation.
"I... should be protecting you, Samael," she replied, her voice quiet but laced with a stubborn resolve.
"Do you think I need protecting?" I countered, a hint of amusement in my voice.
Without a moment's hesitation, she answered, "No. But I made a promise to Medea and Scylla that I would protect you."
The corners of my mouth lifted in a half-smile. Those three had formed a bond stronger than I had anticipated—perhaps united by their fierce, almost obsessive loyalty toward me.
I leaned in, my breath warm against her ear, my voice a murmur that barely carried over the hum of the crowded hall. "Let's take care of that tension," I whispered, the words laced with promises that sparked something deep within her. "I'll help you take back control." Her reaction was immediate, almost visceral—a shiver traveled up her spine, delicate yet undeniable, as her gaze met mine, flickering with a blend of anticipation and need.
The hall was crowded, but we found a pocket of privacy, tucked away in a secluded alcove. I drew a curtain across, leaving us in a quiet, shadowed space, half-hidden from the bustling world outside. The faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded, leaving only the charged silence between us. We blended into the stillness, our presence muted, slipping into a space where only she and I existed.
With a firm touch, I grasped her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine, and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips were cold, soft as velvet under mine, sending a jolt through me.
"Hmmn~~~" She let out a soft, involuntary moan as I lingered, savoring the taste, tracing the line of her jaw, letting my tongue glide over the delicate curve of her chin before capturing her mouth again. Her reaction was immediate, each quiet gasp and shiver drawing us closer to the edge.
"Get down." My voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a command that she didn't hesitate to follow. She sank to her knees, her eyes steady on mine as she settled herself before me, her breath coming in soft, eager puffs. With a slow, practiced motion, I eased down my pants, revealing myself to her, thick and heavy, still soft but throbbing with anticipation.
Her gaze lingered, her lips parting just slightly as she took me in, her fingers already moving to wrap around me, gentle but insistent. Her touch was soft, her hands cool and deft, each stroke awakening a deeper need within me. She was focused, attentive, her grip firm as she began to move, each stroke a careful, deliberate caress, guided by instinct and an undeniable eagerness.
I reached out, threading my fingers through her midnight-blue hair, relishing the feel of the silken strands against my hand. My touch seemed to ignite something in her, and her pace quickened, her strokes coming faster, each one pulling me closer to that edge of raw, unrestrained need.
With my cock swelling in her hand, the warmth of her breath washed over me as she leaned forward, her lips parting just slightly before her tongue darted out to graze my sensitive tip. Her tongue moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring each inch, and I couldn't help but shudder, a low, quiet groan slipping from my lips. The sheer indulgence of her mouth against me—soft, warm, and wet—sent a shiver down my spine, heightening every nerve.
She let out a satisfied murmur, a sound that seemed to roll straight through me, amplifying the pleasure with each gentle lap. Her gaze flicked up to mine as she worked, her eyes half-lidded, filled with a desire that matched my own. There was something intensely satisfying about the way she approached me, as if she were tasting something precious, something she'd waited for, her tongue swirling over the head of my cock before dipping down again to trace the sensitive slit, where my precum was already starting to bead.
"Sluuurp!"
The sight of her leaning in again, her mouth moving over my length, licking away every drop of my precum as if it were the sweetest nectar, made my cock twitch in response, a fresh surge of arousal pumping through me. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink as she tasted it, her lashes fluttering for just a moment, but her hunger was unmistakable. The desire to drink in every part of me was written on her face.