Chapter 36
Chapter 36. Submerged Together
Tatar de Tessibania entered the bathtub without hesitation, submerging up to his waist with a splash. He brushed back his w*t hair, scattering droplets that glittered in the light.
“When did you ever hesitate to drink the wine I spiked with sleeping pills right in front of me, and now you plan to keep me awake all night?”
“I seem to have forgotten about your tolerance to such drugs. Next time, I’ll double the dose.”
“My Empress, you are truly shameless.”
Vinea, holding back a tumult of emotions, grasped the tie of Tatar’s garment and pulled. The knot loosened effortlessly, and his clothing slipped behind him into the water, revealing a sculpted torso that loomed over her, casting a wide shadow.
“Whatever wind has blown this way, it seems the Empress has made up her mind.”
“Kiss me.”
He complied without resistance, lifting Vinea in his arms and switching places with her. She found herself swiftly seated on his firm knees, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He nibbled gently at Vinea’s plump lower lip before tilting his head to sweep his tongue along her palate. There was an undeniable urgency in his invasive movements.
Unsatisfied with her composed breathing, he sealed their lips completely and began moving. His tongue explored every corner of her mouth, but it was insufficient to quench his endless thirst.
The air between their parting lips mingled—his desperate inhales and her heated exhales.
The rising body heat inside the bathtub, unusual from normal, made his usually clear blue eyes deliriously intense. A roiling desire reflected in his gaze, which Vinea met unflinchingly.
Since the regressions began, the more people she killed, the deeper the ennui that crushed her. The insignificance of death, yet her fervent desire for it.
In this discrepancy, we lost answers, wandering countless times. Using our broken selves as compasses had misaligned even the directions we navigated.
Yet, facing each other like this, all seemed inconsequential.
Despite her wariness of succumbing to sentimentalism, Vinea allowed herself to be swept away by the emotions she only felt with him, closing her eyes.
Water-soaked lashes fluttered, shedding tiny droplets.
Tatar exhaled sharply.
Every touch was provocative—the light pressure on her thighs underwater, the glimpse of skin between strands of platinum hair, the rich scent from freshly rinsed foam. If not for the wound on his palm, he would have marked every inch of her, proclaiming to the world she was his.
Remembering the letter from Balak Utar, Tatar bit down on the left side of Vinea’s neck—a spot usually hidden unless by an exceptionally constrictive dress.
The mark he left there was unmistakably intentional, blooming red above.
Vinea rubbed the spot where his lips had been, feeling the vivid mark with her fingertips.
Seemingly unsatisfied with just her neck, he also marked the upper swell of her br*asts, visible above the water because she was seated on his thighs.
Her chest, neck, shoulders, and back to her chest again—the rising heat undulated under her thin skin, heating her from below.
The scent of looming death gradually faded. The red shadows not washed away under the frothy bubbles were devoured by darker ones, feeling as if their existence was being erased.
Vinea slightly lifted her waist, settling down onto him before he could prepare, stiffening.
“Ah.”
“Vi, Vinea…!”
Tatar filled her completely in a seamless connection.
The splashing water could not find a place to break through as he felt her tighten around him, pulling her close and exhaling heated breaths.
“Ah…”
It felt as though he filled her completely with just one motion.
There was no slow buildup; he thrust upwards forcefully. Her body, usually buoyant in the water, bounced higher than usual. As she sank back down, his presence reasserted itself inside her.
“Ah, ah, Te, ah, Tatar—”
Usually responsive even if distracted, now he watched her, half-dazed, as she bounced in his lap.
Her round br*asts pressed against his chest, miserably compressed and shaken.
Overwhelmed by the rushing pl*asure yet never loosening the arms around her neck, Vinea made him even more rigid.
“Uh, ah…!”
Unable to move as she wished, she could only rock up and down to his rhythm.
Their relentless movements splashed water in all directions.
Her entire body heated intensely as if there was no spot left unstimulated inside her.
Tatar’s pace became frantic—deeper, hotter. Suppressed moans escaped his lips.
Their movements began to misalign; as one came down, the other thrust upward, reaching deeper than usual.
The frothy water struggled to cover their entwined bodies, but they continued to bounce out of the water repeatedly.
“Ah, ah! Too fast, ah!”
“The Empress, you’re urging, ah, on…”
Vinea was astounded. Though she initiated, now she was completely overwhelmed, gasping.
Perhaps it was fortunate they were in water. Had they been this forceful on any plush bed, her back would surely have broken.
She couldn’t tell if it was the water, him, or the black hallucinations she had seen earlier touching her skin.
With a dizzying view, Vinea pressed her head against Tatar’s right shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Ah, uh, uh—”
Tatar was equally dazed.
How could there be a body so soft and fragrant? There was not a single part of her not worth savoring.
He twisted slightly at the waist. One shoulder kept pressing down because of the involuntary strength in his arm, despite his intentions.
Just as Vinea said, at this time her body was as fragile as that of a delicate noble lady, easily broken by his strength.
Yet, despite his better judgment, the part of him that knew no moderation relentlessly plundered her depths.
He drove deeply into her cl*max. The blunt tip was sharper than any sword or spear as it pierced her inside, sending a dizzying pl*asure up her spine.
“Ah, ah…!”
Her voice broke into moans, scattering into the air.
Vinea’s body trembled terribly as it reached a second peak. Her head fell back onto Tatar’s shoulder, and he buried his face in her thin neck.
“Uh…!”
His tip pulsed as he deeply marked her inside. The heat, as warm as his body temperature, spread through the melted inner walls.
He hadn’t intended to finish inside, but his mind wasn’t coherent enough to care.
He lightly lifted Vinea’s fainting body into his embrace.
His m*mber was still erect, but he knew continuing might truly damage her.
Leaning back against the bathtub, he blinked slowly, looking ahead.
Perhaps because he’d relaxed, familiar hallucinations began to appear before him.
The shape of an assassin he’d killed two days ago wriggled on the water surface in the form of a black shadow.
Black eyes, wavering lines, a mouth ripped open in a silent scream—it was a hallucination born of his madness.
Even knights returning from years on the battlefield suffered from aftershocks; for someone who had killed countless through regressions, this was a mild consequence.
Tatar held Vinea’s head protectively in his embrace.
“Disappear.”
He pressed his nose and mouth into Vinea’s w*t hair, deeply inhaling her familiar scent. As if by magic, the hallucination scattered into the air.
“What if the Empress completely fell apart? Then she wouldn’t dare think of living without me by her side.”
Burying his face in her shoulder, he closed his eyes.
“Maybe I should just make it so.”
