Chapter Twenty-Seven
~ The First Time ~
Kit
I feel the world tilt as Soren gently lowers me to the floor in the ensuite of his bedroom.
I had insisted I could walk up the stairs perfectly fine, but he didn’t listen…
he simply scooped me up and carried me the whole way.
My body still feels weak, every movement sending dull aches through my limbs, but the warmth of his chest against me had been strangely comforting.
I hadn’t even thought about the mirror until now.
The second my eyes land on my reflection, tears blur my vision instantly.
My new face stares back at me, a stranger.
The long, angry scar runs from my cheek, across the bridge of my nose, through my brow that’s been shaved off, and up my forehead.
It’s still swollen and red, the stitches neat but stark against my pale skin.
My left eye is still bruised and puffy, the skin tight and shiny.
I look disgusting. My lips tremble as I try to stop my face from scrunching up, but every tiny twitch pulls at the stitches and sends fresh stings radiating across my cheek.
The doctor did a good job, I know that, the line is clean, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is what everyone has been seeing when they look at me.
Soren’s voice breaks the silence, low and careful. “Hey…”
He quickly turns me away from the mirror, his large hands gentle on my shoulders. He wipes the tears from my jaw with his thumb, his face frowning in concern. He looks like he has so much he wants to say but doesn’t quite know how to get the words out.
I point at my face with a shaky finger. “I look fucking awful.” Another tear slips free.
Soren shakes his head immediately. “No.”
I sniffle. “No?”
He inhales sharply, like the words are difficult for him. “I… I’m not very good at words, Kit…”
I nod, voice small. “It’s okay.”
Soren closes his eyes for a second, like he’s steeling himself.
When he opens them again, his voice is rough but sincere.
“Kit… the scar… it should never have happened. But all I see when I look at it is your strength. Your resilience. The fact that you survived. How fucking proud I am of you… you kept fighting and managed to free yourself. You somehow managed to get yourself to land… never once giving up…”
My bottom lip trembles again. His words of praise and pride sink into me like warm sunlight after days in the cold.
Goddamnit. Why is this man being so gentle right now?
I never expected this treatment from Soren, not in a million years.
All it does is stir up impossible feelings toward him, feelings I know he’ll never give back. I need to bury them down, deep.
Soren clears his throat and changes the subject with his usual bluntness. “Take your clothes off.”
The sudden shift stops my tears cold. I even let out a little surprised laugh.
Soren raises a brow. “What?”
I shake my head, still smiling weakly. “Nothing.”
He hasn’t seen the bruises on my body yet.
I purse my lips and undo the robe I’ve been wearing, leaving me in the thin gown the doctor put me in.
Soren takes the robe and hangs it neatly on the door hook.
I flick my eyes up to his face, watching his expression as I slowly remove the gown, leaving me in only my boxers.
Soren’s eyes widen a fraction and darken. He frowns at my body, taking in the bruises.
“Soren…” I say softly.
He flicks his gaze back up to mine.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply and moves past me to turn the shower on, adjusting the spray to a gentle, warm setting and testing the temperature with his hand.
I’m about to step in when he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing? Take your boxers off.”
I pause, suddenly shy. “Oh… uh…”
Soren grins, the expression surprisingly soft. “Christopher, I’ve seen every inch of you. Don’t go shy now.”
The blush shoots up my neck and face. I turn away from him before pushing my boxers down, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I am. I feel Soren’s presence closer behind me, and turn slightly, he’s trying to glance at my cock.
I make a little embarrassed noise and cover myself with my hand. “Soren!”
He rumbles a deep laugh. “Get in.”
I huff and climb into the shower. The warm water feels incredible on my back. I don’t want to face the spray directly, I’m not sure if I should keep my face dry or not.
I hear something hit the floor and turn my head slightly to see what Soren’s doing.
Oh hell. Soren’s standing there completely naked, his clothes discarded in a pile on the floor.
My breath catches, eyes widening for a second before I quickly squeeze them shut, heart hammering.
I know this is just him helping me, of course he’s not going to shower fully clothed, that would be ridiculous.
But the sight of his tanned, inked, muscled body still hits me hard.
I shuffle forward a little as he steps in behind me, the warm steam thickening around us.
Soren’s voice is quiet and steady. “Relax for me, Kit.”
I nod, trying my best, even though my pulse is racing. He pulls the shower head down into his hand and positions it above my hair, carefully angled away from my face. The water runs through my dirty curls, warm and soothing, washing away grime and sweat.
His large fingers start massaging my scalp, working the water through every strand. I close my eyes, the tension in my shoulders melting away under his touch. A moment later he squirts shampoo into my curls and returns to massaging, the scent clean and familiar.
Soren’s breathing seems heavier now, but I tell myself it’s probably just the steam.
A couple of minutes later he’s finished… my curls are clean, conditioned, and feeling smooth again for the first time in over a week. I run my hands through them and turn slightly, smiling up at him.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Soren nods, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
I grab the sponge and some shower gel, pouring a generous amount onto the sponge before gently starting to clean myself.
I only manage my arms before Soren reaches around and takes the sponge from my hand.
He guides it down my side with careful strokes, mindful of the bruises, then up and down my back, around to my front.
He inhales sharply when he brings the sponge back to my ass. I swallow hard, anticipation coiling low in my stomach. I kind of don’t want him to just wash and move on. I want to feel like he still finds me attractive, scar or no scar.
Soren gently spreads one of my cheeks and rubs the sponge over my hole a few times. The friction, combined with the fact that it’s him doing it, pulls an accidental moan from my throat. I brace my hands on the tiled wall, breath shaky.
Soren freezes, the sponge still pressed against me. “You okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah… sorry.”
He moves again, testing, and I moan softly once more.
Soren growls low in his chest. “Fuck… maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, but I don’t mean it at all.
Soren hesitates. “I’ll get out.”
I bite my lip, heart racing, and say quietly, “You know, there’s nothing wrong with my ass.”
He pauses. “What?”
I swallow, cheeks burning. “There’s nothing wrong with my ass, Soren.”
Soren’s voice drops. “The doctor said you’re supposed to rest, Kit. No excitement. I won’t make you worse again.”
I whine softly. “Soren…”
To really test him, I reach around, throw the sponge to the floor, and start rubbing myself with my fingers.
Soren groans, deep and rough. “Jesus Christ, Kit.”
I push one finger inside and moan, the sound echoing off the tiles. “See?”
Soren’s breath hitches. “Fuck… good boy.”
The praise settles warm and heavy in my chest, giving my confidence a sudden boost.
Soren’s voice drops into that low, rough register that always makes my stomach flip. “That’s it, baby… just like that.”
Baby. The word hits me like a spark straight to the chest. Oh my god, did he actually just call me that?
My mind reels, heart stuttering wildly. What is going on with him?
This isn’t the cold, distant king who fucks me and then walks away.
This is something else entirely, something softer and far more dangerous, and I don’t know how to handle it.
Before I can even process it, Soren drops to his knees behind me. The sound of his knees hitting the wet tile is unmistakable. This man… this giant, powerful, untouchable man who’s never gotten on his knees for anyone… is on the floor for me.
I gasp, eyes flying wide.
His large hands spread my cheeks gently, and then his mouth is on me, hot, wet, and relentless. His tongue drags over my hole in one slow, firm stroke, and I cry out, the sound echoing off the walls.
“Oh, fuck, Soren!”
He doesn’t hesitate. He licks me open like he’s starving for it, tongue circling and pressing inside, the wet heat making my legs shake.
Every flick and thrust of his tongue sends sparks shooting up my spine.
My bad eye throbs from how tightly I’m squeezing my face, but I can’t stop the desperate little moans spilling out of me.
“Soren… oh my god…”
He growls against me, the vibration making me whimper.
Then I feel two thick fingers join his tongue, sliding in slowly, stretching me open while his mouth keeps working me over.
The dual sensation is overwhelming… the slick heat of his tongue and the firm press of his fingers curling just right.
My knees nearly buckle. I slap one hand harder against the tile, the other flying back to grip his wet hair.
“Fuck, that feels… ah… Soren!”
I’m panting, hips twitching helplessly as he eats me out with single-minded focus.
Every moan I make seems to spur him on. He’s thorough, almost reverent, like he’s trying to prove something with his mouth.
The pleasure builds fast and sharp, my cock leaking against the shower wall, but I don’t come…
I’m too lost in the sheer shock of Soren on his knees, worshipping me like this.