Chapter 1020: You’ve activated something in here (R-18)

Scáthach swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on her as silence hung between them. Steam continued to rise, further blurring the outlines of the bathroom, yet nothing seemed clearer than her expression—a blend of shyness and surrender, of curiosity and fear. Her hand remained on his wrist, her fingers gripping with a strength that spoke volumes.

Strax didn’t pull his fingers away. Instead, he kept them there, feeling the pulse beneath the skin and the humid heat that promised something more than mere cleansing. He watched the flush spreading across her neck, her nipples hardening just above the water’s surface, and her ragged breathing making her breasts rise and fall.

"Yes," she repeated, her voice firmer now, as if convincing herself. "If you’re going to do this... do it right."

He needed no further permission. With slow, deliberate movements, he withdrew his fingers, the soft sound of trickling water filling the air. Scáthach let out a shaky breath, her eyes closing for a moment as he shifted into position behind her. The tub was large enough to accommodate them both, yet the closeness now felt stifling—in the best possible way.

Strax placed his hands on her hips, feeling the prominent bones beneath her wet skin. He moved closer, his own naked body pressing against her back. She could feel his weight and the hardness that was now grazing her buttocks.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a low rasp beside her ear.

Scáthach nodded—a small, almost imperceptible movement. "Yes."

He hesitated no longer. Guiding himself with one hand, he aligned with her entrance, feeling her wetness beyond the water. Scáthach held her breath as his tip touched her innermost fold, pressing gently.

Strax entered slowly, allowing her to adjust to every inch. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced—hot, tight, inviting. Scáthach let out a low moan, her fingers gripping the edge of the tub with a white-knuckled hold.

"Is everything okay?" he whispered, pausing once he was fully inside her.

She shook her head again, more firmly this time. "Go on."

He began to move, slow and deep, the water rippling around them. Scáthach gasped, her body arching back against his, seeking more contact, more depth. Strax held her hips firmly, controlling the pace but allowing her urgency to guide some of the movement.

The sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub mingled with their ragged breathing. Scáthach threw her head back, exposing her neck, and Strax couldn’t resist—he leaned in and gently bit the curve between her neck and shoulder. She moaned louder, her hips moving in sync with his now.

"Strax..." His name came out like a prayer, a desperate plea.

He quickened the pace, his thighs slapping against hers with a soft, wet sound. Water splashed all around, but neither of them cared. Scáthach had completely surrendered now, his every movement driving her closer to the edge. Her hand let go of the tub’s rim and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer.

"Inside," she gasped, eyes closed, her face contorted in ecstasy. "Wash me from the inside."

Strax didn’t need to be asked twice. His movements grew more intense, deeper, each thrust bringing them closer to the climax. He felt her walls contracting around him, tightening, pulling him in.

Scáthach cried out as the orgasm hit her—a hoarse, uninhibited sound that echoed in the steamy bathroom. Her body shuddered violently, and Strax held her tight, continuing to move until he felt his own body convulse in response.

He filled her with a muffled groan, his hips jerking in final spasms before finally coming to a halt, breathless.

For a moment, the only sound was their heavy breathing and the dripping of the tap. Scáthach went limp against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Strax remained inside her, feeling the slow contractions of her body as she returned to reality.

"I think you’re clean now," he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

Scáthach let out a soft, muffled laugh, her fingers loosening their grip on his hair. "I think so."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the water slowly cooling around them, the steam beginning to dissipate. Scáthach turned her head enough to look at him, her amber eyes still hazy.

"That was..."

"Different?" he finished.

"Yes." She paused, searching for the words. "But not in a bad way."

Strax smiled—a genuine, gentle expression. "Good."

He slowly pulled away from her, feeling the loss of warmth and connection. Scáthach shivered slightly but said nothing. Instead, she turned in the tub to face him, the water covering her up to her waist.

"Do you still think it’s weird?" she asked, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Strax shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. "A little. But maybe weird isn’t always bad."

Scáthach nodded, her fingers tracing circles on the water’s surface. "Maybe not."

She watched as he picked up the sponge again, dipping it into the water before beginning to wash her chest with gentle strokes. Scáthach closed her eyes, allowing the touch; the intimacy of the moment now felt comfortable rather than tense.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, her voice low.

"For what?"

"For not making it weird."

Strax stopped washing her for an instant, his eyes meeting hers. "You’re my mother, Scáthach. Nothing about this changes that."

She smiled—a small, almost sad expression. "I know."

He continued washing her, now with a lightness that was almost tender. Scáthach allowed herself to be tended to, her body relaxing completely for the first time since they had entered the bathroom. Steam still hung in the air, but now it felt cozy rather than oppressive.

When he finished, Scáthach stepped out of the tub first, wrapping a large towel around her body before reaching out to help him up. Strax accepted, his large hand firmly clasping hers.

They stood in the humid bathroom, gazing at each other for a moment before Scáthach leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Let’s go to bed," she suggested, her voice returning to the practical tone he knew so well. "I think you’ve ignited something inside me; I’m on fire."

Strax held her hand firmly, feeling her racing pulse through their damp skin. He said nothing; he simply pulled her gently out of the bathroom, water dripping from their bodies and forming small puddles on the stone floor. The towel she had wrapped around herself was left behind, forgotten on the edge of the tub. The need now was more urgent than the need for comfort.

Scáthach’s bedroom lay at the end of a quiet hallway. The mansion’s stone walls absorbed every sound, making their ragged breathing the only echo in the darkness. She didn’t turn on any lights; the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the heavy curtains was enough to illuminate the path to the wide bed, covered in furs and soft fabrics.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Scáthach turned and pushed him against the closing door, her naked body pressing flush against his. Her lips met his with a wild urgency, devoid of the hesitation or shyness from the bathroom. This was no longer an exploration—it was a claim. Strax returned the kiss with equal intensity, his hands gripping her hips and lifting her off the ground. Scáthach wrapped her legs around his waist, her breasts pressing against his chest as he carried her to the bed. They tumbled onto the covers together, a tangle of limbs and heat.

"You left me hungry," she whispered against his lips, her teeth grazing his lower lip. "And now you’re going to feed me."

Strax shifted, positioning her beneath him. Moonlight illuminated her contours—her full breasts, the curve of her waist, the wide hips that fit perfectly in his hands. He slid between her legs, feeling the warm wetness that already awaited him. This time, there was no deliberate slowness, no careful questions. He entered her in one deep thrust, eliciting a guttural moan that echoed through the quiet room.

Scáthach arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Like that," she gasped. "That’s how I want it."

Strax began to move with brutal force, each thrust an assertion of the desire that now consumed them. The bed creaked under their weight and rhythm—a metallic, steady sound mingling with muffled moans and ragged breathing. Scáthach was no longer passive; she matched his every movement, her hips meeting his with equal force, her fingernails digging into his back and marking his skin with red scratches.

"Harder," she cried out, her voice hoarse and broken. "Don’t go easy on me."

He obeyed. His movements grew wilder, deeper, as if he sought to reach her very core. Their skin collided with a wet, repetitive sound—hot and slick with sweat. Scáthach threw her head back, neck muscles taut, lips parted in a continuous gasp of pleasure.

Strax leaned down and bit her breast—not gently, but with a ferocity that made Scáthach cry out, not in pain, but in pure ecstasy. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling his head closer, as if she wanted to fuse them together right there.

"Inside," she moaned—just as she had in the bathroom—but this time it was a command, not a request. "Fill me, Strax. I want to feel you inside me until I overflow."

Her climax hit her like a convulsion. Her body arched violently, a muffled cry escaping her lips as waves of contractions washed over her. Strax felt her walls tightening around him, pulling him deeper, and it was enough to make him lose control.

With a muffled roar, he drove into her to the hilt, releasing himself in hot spurts that filled every inch of her. His hips jerked in final spasms before he collapsed onto her, gasping, sweat dripping from his body onto hers.

For long minutes, the only sound was their heavy breathing as it struggled to return to normal. Scáthach lay motionless beneath him, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her heart pounding against his chest.

Gradually, reality reasserted itself. The dark room, the rumpled bed, the scent of sex and sweat hanging in the air. Strax moved to pull away, but Scáthach’s arms tightened around him, holding him in place.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice husky and weary, yet satisfied. "Stay."

He complied, rolling onto his side but keeping an arm around her. Scáthach turned onto her side, fitting herself against his body, her head resting on his chest. Their skin was still hot and slick, but neither of them cared.

Outside the window, the night remained silent. Inside the room, the fire Scáthach had spoken of was now dying down to glowing, contented embers. She traced slow circles on his chest with her fingers.

"I think I’m clean inside and out now," she whispered, a hint of humor in her husky voice.

Strax let out a low laugh, the sound vibrating in his chest. "I think so."

Scáthach lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye. In the dim light, her gaze was intense yet serene. "No regrets?"

He thought for a moment, his fingers playing with loose strands of her hair. "No. And you?"

She shook her head slowly, then settled back against his chest. "No. I just feel like I should have done this sooner."

This time, it was Strax who raised his head to look at her. "Sooner?"

Scáthach closed her eyes, a small, private smile touching her lips. "Having you back. Not wasting so much time."