Little Pink Starfish

Should he now say he spoke wrongly and ask for a different punishment instead? Should he offer all his gold and silver, or ask to be locked away in some remote place, or even say he’d rather be flogged? Nyne was wondering what he should say to ease Amon’s mood.

Amon lifted the hem of the dirt-stained tunic. The hem, worn like a loincloth, was made of thin linen for comfort, as if it were barely worn at all. When the already moonlit, almost see-through fabric disappeared, his bare leg was fully revealed. Amon’s hand slipped under the hem and brushed up along his thigh.

A firm hand suddenly grabbed his buttocks tightly. Nyne gasped in surprise. Amon’s fingers unhesitatingly touched his skin. Biting Nyne’s ear, Amon spoke in a voice tinged with amusement:

“Yeah, just like you said—if I hold you, I’ll be able to tell what’s true.”

Only then did Nyne realize he had given the wrong answer. Just as Amon hadn’t cared about the priests’ gazes in the Holy of Holies, he clearly had no intention of caring about anyone’s eyes here either—he was going to take Nyne just like this. Nyne’s heart sank; he had at least thought it would happen inside the tent.

This time, he couldn’t even properly refuse or resist. Because the condition he had offered in exchange for punishment was the lives of the priests, including Iyu. If he refused, someone might die. That thought paralyzed Nyne’s body.

All he could do was hope that the priests kept their heads bowed deep into the ground and never dared to look up.

“Nyne.”

“…Yes, Lord Amon.”

Nyne, trying to calm his trembling breath, answered. But soon shut his lips again. Amon’s fingers were slowly digging inside, parting the dry flesh. There was resistance because no oil was used, but only for a moment — soon, they entered easily, spreading the flesh. His eyes shut tightly on their own. Amon stirred inside while licking the wrinkled space between his brows.

Even in this situation, Nyne forced himself to suppress his body, which had grown used to Amon’s touch and tried to react immediately. The cool night air touched his exposed thighs and buttocks. Amon licked down his eyelids and placed a kiss on his cheek.

At least no one would die, Nyne thought, enduring the harsh moment. From shame, his ears and cheeks flushed red. His legs trembled as if he might collapse at any moment. Soon, a second finger pushed in.

Perhaps because there was no lubricant and he was being careful not to cause injury, Amon’s movements were especially slow. And the slower they were, the more Nyne suffered. His whole body tensed, and even though he involuntarily clenched tightly, the firm, long fingers felt no resistance. As he usually did, Amon slowly swept the inside, then soon pressed down gently on a certain spot within.

It would’ve been better if he couldn’t feel anything at all, but distinct pleasure rose, pulsing through his lower belly. Nyne clung to Amon, trying not to make a sound. He buried his face in Amon’s chest and clenched his teeth. Please, just stop now… he desperately begged inwardly — but Amon showed no mercy. His fingers moved in and out, drawing out pleasure just as he had long trained him to.

Nyne struggled desperately not to make a sound even if he died. His neck stiffened, and his thighs and calves tensed up. Trying even to suppress the sound of his breathing, he suddenly grabbed Amon’s arm tightly—and shuddered.

He almost let out a groan without realizing it from the unexpected pain. It was pain he hadn’t felt even when he was digging the ground or receiving treatment. As far as he could remember, it was the first time he had been this badly injured, the first time he’d felt trauma this painful. Every time the bandaged fingers moved, they stung. He let go of Amon’s arm, but even spreading his fingers caused pain. While he couldn’t fully curl or straighten them, a sudden thought crossed his mind.

‘In this situation, wouldn’t it be better to feel pain instead?’

If only—if he could forget the pleasure through the pain… Just as he tried to grab Amon’s body with all his strength again, his wrist was suddenly seized with a strong grip. When he opened his eyes wide and looked, Amon was staring at Nyne’s trembling fingers with displeasure, watching them shake from the pain.

Soon, Amon’s gaze dropped from Nyne’s fingers to his bare feet on the ground. Only then did Nyne realize that the healing priest had also wrapped bandages around his feet. Though not as badly injured as his hands, a swollen, stinging sensation was rising—likely from running barefoot through the forest.

Amon slowly looked around with a face that seemed to recall the time in the forest when he tried to hold Nyne and ended up scratching his calf. The priests remained motionless, their foreheads pressed to the ground, not even twitching. With golden eyes that could see in the dark as if it were day, he swept his gaze across the floor, easily distinguishing things like embedded bits of stone.

“This place isn’t suitable for holding you. Here, I can neither keep you standing nor lay you down.”

As he said that, Amon withdrew the finger inserted behind. Then immediately, he swiftly lifted Nyne into his arms. For the first time, Nyne sincerely felt grateful for the injuries on his body. Since Amon seemed extremely unwilling to let his body get hurt, perhaps… he might be able to use that from now on. That thought briefly passed through his dazed mind.

Compared to someone losing their life, a wound like this is nothing.

As that thought passed through his mind, Amon began striding forward. He wasn’t heading for his own tent, but to Nyne’s—apparently simply choosing the closest one without much thought. When they finally stepped inside, Nyne felt immense relief. The tension that had frozen his body eased slightly with the comfort of being indoors.

Unlike when he had fallen asleep, the lights in Nyne’s tent were fully on. The slightly disordered furniture showed just how flustered the priests had been when he had suddenly vanished. As he was laid onto the soft bed, Nyne finally realized how stiff his body had become.

He thought Amon would immediately take him then. But instead of undressing him or spreading his legs, Amon simply stared at the bandaged hands. His gaze wasn’t one of concern or worry. Rather, he tilted his head, eyes seemingly entranced.

“Nyne, your scent…”

Murmuring, Amon pulled Nyne’s wrist toward him. He pressed his nose to the bandaged palm and inhaled deeply. Nyne flinched, confused by the gesture. Amon, with his face buried in the hand, finally lifted his head—his face now filled with a raw, sinister desire. His eyes looked like he was ready to devour him.

Meeting that gaze, Nyne shrank back like a mouse before its predator. He couldn’t easily comprehend Amon’s reaction or the reason for it, and his eyes trembled.

“Just a moment ago, it looked like pomegranate seeds were forming on your fingertips.”

Nyne was terrified, feeling like Amon might consume him at any second. This was different from the way Amon usually stared at him during meals—it was far more overwhelming. Too afraid to even pull his hand away, Nyne pleaded.

“Please… don’t eat me…”

“Don’t be afraid. Even a single drop of your blood is too precious to waste—how could I possibly eat you?”

Amon gently stroked Nyne’s head as he spoke. Yet his eyes were still fixed on Nyne’s hand. As if he couldn’t taste it, he tried to at least consume the scent—parting his sensual lips, he licked his upper lip. Then, baring his teeth, he gnawed at the bandages and licked over them with a damp tongue, muttering softly:

“But… it’s like a sweet poison.”

His pupils were dilated wider than usual as he closed his eyes slowly, as if savoring something. Blue veins stood out on his neck, and his lips stretched into a dangerous grin. He traced Nyne’s trembling fingers one by one with his lips, then suddenly bit into the wrist, baring his white teeth. Despite the feral glint in his eyes, Amon spoke gently.

“Now… it’s time for you to properly receive your punishment.”

Nyne had been trembling with fear the entire time, so much so that Amon’s words brought him a strange sense of relief. With a light tug, Amon tore a long strip from Nyne’s nightclothes. Then he used it to bind Nyne’s wrists. Though the fabric was thin, it was enough to tie them securely. Amon had never bound him before, so Nyne couldn’t help but feel startled.

“Your hands are injured. You mustn’t hold anything. We can’t let more blood spill.”

“Yes, Lord Amon.”

Nyne replied in a trembling voice, glancing at his tied wrists. He had already been dreading what was to come, but now with his wrists bound, the tension only grew stronger.