Chapter 1019: Mother’s Request (R-18)

The hot water filled the spacious bathroom with a light mist, clouding the mirrors and muffling sounds from the rest of the mansion. Scathach sat with her back to Strax, completely naked in the large stone tub, her hair pinned up off her shoulders to keep it out of the way. Although she had been the one to suggest this, she held herself with a strangely rigid posture as Strax sponged her back, more focused on finishing the task quickly than on the significance of the moment. To him, after his mother’s insistence on calling this a normal family experience, it would have been hypocritical to start acting awkwardly now.

Scathach remained silent for a few moments, watching the slow movement of the water around her legs. The excitement she had shown when Strax agreed to her request had faded somewhat once they actually entered the bathroom, replaced by a shyness she clearly hadn’t expected to feel. Still, there was something comforting about the moment. There were no runes, wars, or problems demanding immediate resolution. It was simply a mother trying to experience—albeit very late—a small part of the life she had never had.

"I missed out on so much," she finally remarked.

Strax kept washing her back. "Missed out on what?"

"On you." Her answer made him slow his movements.

Scathach rested her arms on her knees. "I died too young. By the time I came back, you were already a man; you’d survived on your own, built relationships, made a worrying number of bad decisions, and learned to live without needing me." She let out a slow breath, careful not to let her words turn into a lament. "So sometimes I think about the little things. Bathing you when you were a child, cooking meals, complaining because you’d made a mess five minutes after I’d cleaned it up... those silly parts of motherhood."

Strax gazed at the back of her neck for a few seconds before resuming his sponging. "You’re awfully embarrassed for someone who suggested this."

Scathach stiffened immediately.

"I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m not."

"You turned red before you even got into the water."

She turned her face just enough to shoot an annoyed glance over her shoulder. "It’s different when the idea stops being just an idea."

Strax let out a soft laugh.

Scathach turned back to face forward and spent a few seconds swirling her fingers in the water, clearly searching for a justification that wouldn’t make things worse. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter.

"Besides... you’re the first man to see my body since your father."

Strax paused for a moment.

Scathach immediately noticed the silence behind her.

"Don’t make that face."

"You aren’t even looking at me."

"I know you."

Bitterness crept quietly into her voice as she mentioned the past. "After that disgusting father of yours, all those years ago, I just never had any interest in letting another man get close to me like that. It didn’t make sense, either." She grimaced slightly, as if the mere memory were unpleasant, but didn’t let it linger. "So, yes. Maybe it’s a bit strange for me, too."

Strax turned serious for a moment.

Before he could reply, Scathach turned partially around and reached out with a wet hand to touch his face. She gave his cheek two light pats—a gesture that was affectionate more than anything else.

"It’s okay."

He raised an eyebrow.

Scathach repeated the gesture.

"None of that matters anymore. It’s in the past."

Strax kept looking at her.

"Are you comforting me after *you* were the one who got upset?"

"I’m the mother."

"Does that excuse work for everything?"

"Almost everything." He finally laughed. Strax’s laughter echoed softly in the humid air, dissipating into the mist. He let the sponge glide along the curve of her spine, feeling the subtle tension in her back muscles. The hot water and steam created an intimacy he didn’t yet know how to name, but which didn’t feel wrong.

"Almost everything," he repeated, more to himself than to her. "So, if I say I want to finish this properly, you won’t complain?"

Scathach turned her face, her amber eyes meeting his over her shoulder. There was a glint of defiance there, mingled with something more vulnerable that she was trying to hide.

"Finish what?"

"The bath." He moved the sponge to the side, tracing the curve of her waist, feeling her warm, wet skin beneath his fingers. "You asked me to do this. I’m not going to leave it half-finished."

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either. Instead, she turned slightly, giving him better access to her sides. Her breasts grazed the water’s surface, her hardened nipples visible through the mist.

Strax slid the sponge along the side of her abdomen, moving slowly down toward her hip. Scathach’s breathing grew a little shallower, yet she remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the stone wall ahead.

"You’re tense again," he noted, his voice low.

"I’m... just watching."

"Watching what?"

"Whether you’re actually going to do this or just keep stalling."

Strax smiled, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "You were always impatient."

"Impatient is different from curious."

He set the sponge aside and used his bare hands, his fingers gliding over her wet skin. Scathach held her breath as his hands reached her inner thighs, making their way upward with deliberate slowness.

"Strax..." His name came out as a mere whisper—a warning or a permission, she herself didn’t know which.

He didn’t stop. His hands moved up, tracing her curves, until his thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of her mound. Scathach bit her lower lip, her fingers digging into the rim of the tub.

"This is..." She tried to find the words, but her voice failed her as his fingers slid deeper, parting her folds with a gentleness that contrasted with the mounting tension in the air.

Strax felt her heat, the dampness that came from more than just the bathwater. He moved his fingers in slow circles, exploring, learning the contours of a body he had never imagined touching in such a way.

"You’re wet," he observed, his voice husky.

Scathach closed her eyes, her head falling back to expose her neck. "That’s... your fault."

"Mine?"

"You’re touching me as if..." She swallowed hard as one of his fingers found her clitoris, pressing with a precision that made her shudder. "As if you know exactly what you’re doing."

"I’ve learned a few things over the years."

"I can tell."

He continued the movement, slow and deliberate, watching her reactions. Scathach tried to maintain her composure, but each touch unraveled her a little more. Her hips began to move involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more contact.

"Strax..." She gasped as he slid a finger inside her, feeling her hot, tight walls. "This isn’t... a normal bath."

"You asked me to wash you." He added a second finger, gently stretching her. "I’m just being thorough."

Scathach let out a muffled moan; her hand found his in the water and gripped his wrist—not to push him away, but to guide him deeper.

"Then... finish what you started."

Strax felt her fingers tighten around his wrist, guiding him deeper, and the air in the bathroom seemed to grow heavy. Warm water rippled around them, but the heat that mattered now came from her body—from the way she opened herself to him with a trust he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He moved his fingers slowly, feeling her inner walls contract around them, and Scathach let out a shaky breath, the fingers of her free hand digging into the rim of the tub. "Strax..." Her voice came out hoarse, broken. "This is..."

"I know." He interrupted, his thumb finding her clitoris again, pressing in slow circles while his fingers continued their rhythmic motion. "But you asked me to wash you, didn’t you? And I don’t want to leave any part of you unattended."

Scathach bit her lip, her eyes still closed, her head tilted back. The rigid posture she had held before was now dissolving, replaced by a surrender she clearly hadn’t expected to feel so quickly.

"You’re doing this on purpose," she accused, but there was no venom in her words—only a tremor.

"Doing what?"

"Teasing me."

Strax smiled, a trace of amusement playing on his lips. "Teasing would be stopping now. I don’t intend to stop."

He slid his fingers out—just enough for her to feel the loss—and then pushed back in, deeper and slower. Scathach gasped, her hips lifting involuntarily to meet his touch.

"But before I go on," he said, his voice low and controlled, "I need to know something."

She opened her eyes, turning her face to look over her shoulder. Her gaze was hazy, her lips parted, her breathing uneven.

"What?"

Strax stopped moving; his fingers remained inside her but went still. The pause was deliberate—a tension he knew would drive her wild.

"Do you want me to wash the inside of your pussy?"

The direct question hung in the air, and Scathach held her breath. The flush that had previously colored only her cheeks now spread down her neck and across her chest. She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

Strax waited patiently, his fingers still motionless inside her, feeling the rapid pulse echoing against the warm walls.

"Scathach?"

She swallowed hard, her eyes meeting his. The shyness that had gripped her at the start of the bath was still there, but now it was mingled with something more urgent, more raw.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I do."