PSW Chapter 49: Just a Kiss

| Previous | Table of Contents | Next | 

Announcement

Completed chapter is on my ko-fi page, and please give support thank you

🍊 Chapter 1-105(End)

The longing in Yofar’s gaze deepened, like a flame flaring higher with each passing second. Mere observation was no longer enough—his thirst, dry and cracked like parched earth, could not be soothed by sight alone.

Bastet, oblivious to his impending fate, swallowed unconsciously, his delicate throat bobbing ever so slightly. He was completely unaware of the predatory gleam in the eyes of the man holding him captive.

Their noses were already touching, their lips barely a breath apart.

And then, that distance—already negligible—was purposefully erased.

“Bastet.”

“Ah?”

Hearing his name, Bastet instinctively snapped back to awareness.

Only then did he realize how dangerously close Yofar had drawn to him. There wasn’t even enough space between them for a single fingertip.

And the moment he parted his lips to respond, his mouth brushed against the lips of the strikingly handsome king above him—lightly, fleetingly, yet undeniably.

"Tss—"

The matchstick of fantasy struck against reality, igniting a cascade of sparks.

Bastet’s eyes widened abruptly as Yofar’s deep blue gaze consumed his entire vision. Half-lidded eyes, pupils dilating—those ice-blue crystals darkened under the shadows, shifting from the clarity of shallow waters to the abyssal depths of a terrifying sea.

His breath hitched. His lips trembled.

"You know, Bastet," Yofar whispered, his voice mingling with the rapid drumming of Bastet’s heart, "I’m kissing you right now."

Yofar spoke as if he were truly teaching him something. "From the moment my gaze fell on your lips, I was already kissing you. My eyes have warmth—you can feel it, can’t you? They brush against your lips, tracing the shape, gliding along the lines, lingering at the seams. I kiss your lips without touching, devouring them with my stare alone. If my gaze could break through skin, I would bite down hard, tear through, taste the blood that spills from your wounds… and I wouldn’t stop there."

His words bound Bastet in place.

Bastet’s pupils shrank into pinpricks, his mind frozen in incomprehension. He hadn’t processed a single thing.

And yet—gods above—his lips truly began to ache, as if Yofar’s words alone had inflicted pain. His hands trembled.

"Listen."

Yofar grasped the hand Bastet had unknowingly left on his cheek, pulling him closer. He shifted onto his side, his other hand threading through the roots of Bastet’s fluffy black hair, fingers tangling and tightening at the nape of his neck.

"I finally understand something today, Bastet," Yofar murmured. "I need you. And I told you—I won’t stop here. I will teach you what intimacy means. Perhaps, as a cat, you can’t comprehend concepts like mates, marriage, or exclusive bonds. But I will make sure you learn them all. Personally."

Bastet had never been held so close before.

Every syllable Yofar spoke pounded against his mind, leaving him unsteady.

"Yofar, you—"

"Shut your mouth, Bastet."

The sharp tug at his scalp made Bastet let out a stifled yelp.

"You are a cat," Yofar said, his voice laced with amusement. "Perhaps, in the future, people will write stories about my ‘madness.’ But I don’t care. No one dares wound me in life. And after my death? Even less so."

To dote on a cat?

A perverse obsession?

Yofar let out a low chuckle.

From the moment of his awakening, from his first realization this morning to now—mere hours had passed. But for Yofar Memphis, time meant nothing.

He was a king who wielded destruction and rebirth as he pleased.

He was a fearsome villain, ruthless in his pursuits.

He was a man who took what he wanted—fully, entirely, without hesitation.

This was the conqueror king.

The moment High Priest Hesse had feared had come at last.

It happened too quickly for anyone to stop. From realization to action, Yofar had moved with terrifying decisiveness. And Bastet, the last to understand the game he was caught in, could do nothing. He had even forgotten to breathe.

"Don’t be afraid."

Yofar saw the trembling in Bastet’s soul.

"I’m going to kiss you now," he said, as if confirming his earlier declaration. "Just like I described."

"Are you ready?"

The final words were spoken with his lips grazing Bastet’s, his voice a low growl reverberating into Bastet’s mouth.

The sensation made Bastet’s tongue tingle.

He had no idea how this had happened.

Why had he woken up to this?

Why had Yofar suddenly pinned him down, whispering words akin to a confession, speaking of intimacy, touching him like this?

"Wait, wait, wait! Yofar, you need to explain—!"

"I don’t care for useless words."

"Huh?"

"In truth, I don’t need your permission, either."

"I am the King of Egypt. I am your master. I must see myself clearly." Yofar’s voice was calm, but absolute. "And you will obey me."

"…"

"‘I’m going to kiss you now’—" Yofar leaned in.

"That wasn’t a question. It was a statement."

"…"

Bastet: Could you be any more domineering?

The answer was yes.

Sharp teeth scraped against Bastet’s soft lips.

At first—even for Yofar—this was uncharted territory. His first attempt at a kiss was unpracticed, clumsy. Their lips collided, the force sending a stinging pain through Bastet.

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"…Mm!"

Their lips, slightly dry, pressed together, rubbing harshly—searing into the skin, into the soul, branding every shallow groove and ridge onto the depths of memory. A shiver ran up Bastet’s spine, curling around his heart like an electric current.

Like a warrior caressing the edge of his blade, Yofar used his lips to trace Bastet’s, claiming his territory—his possession. And then, with a sudden force, he parted his lips and descended, a deep and ferocious kiss. He would cut him, just as he had promised, and drink his blood.

Bastet’s mind screamed at him to push Yofar away, to break free.

But his heart betrayed him, pounding wildly, surrendering without a fight. His breath quivered. His hands, instead of resisting, clutched tightly at the white robes covering Yofar’s chest. Like a thief, fearful yet exhilarated, he tilted his head back, lips parting in silent invitation—accepting everything.

The bed canopy swayed.

They rolled across the sheets.

Cold as he was, Yofar burned when he kissed.

The force and hunger behind it shattered Bastet’s previous impressions of Yofar’s beauty. This was just a kiss—just a kiss—and yet Bastet trembled. His bent knees shook uncontrollably, knocking together.

"Hah..."

A faint sound, like the last drop of wine being sipped from the edge of a glass, echoed in the air.

A heady spark—like champagne bubbles bursting—popped between them.

Muffled whimpers were swallowed. Ragged breaths came fast and desperate.

And then—Bastet finally tasted his own blood, from someone else’s mouth.

Yofar held him close.

After a moment, Bastet tried to retreat, to escape—but Yofar was relentless, always capturing him again. What should have been just a kiss turned into a battle, a struggle for dominance.

Looking back later, Bastet would wonder why he had felt so dizzy.

They had only been kissing.

And yet, somehow, they had rolled around the bed so many times, they had spun in circles at least twenty times.

No wonder he was dizzy as hell!

The flickering lamp swayed, casting shifting shadows across the room.

Outside, a maidservant hesitated, puzzled as to why the king had not yet retired for the night. She whispered to the lady-in-waiting, signaling that it was time to refill the lamp oil. The lady-in-waiting, left with no choice, cautiously approached and inquired in a low voice.

Only then did Yofar finally release Bastet.

Bastet collapsed onto the bed, his eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths. His black, curly fur-like hair was damp, clinging to his forehead and the silk sheets beneath him. Yofar, however, merely left a mark on Bastet’s neck before pulling the covers over him.

Even Yofar’s own breath was unsteady—but the disarray only made him look more alluring. He lifted a hand, brushing back his tousled platinum-blond hair. His ice-blue eyes remained locked onto Bastet, carrying something that made one's face heat.

“This is only the beginning. From now on, I will teach you like this every day.”

Dismissing the lady-in-waiting, Yofar curved his lips into a smirk. A faint red stain lingered on his pale-pink lips. His gaze, both tender and possessive, remained fixated on his little feline boy.

Even if Bastet truly was just a cat, it didn’t matter.

Yofar would make him understand what emotions were, what love was.

And then, he would keep him forever—caged at his side, devoted only to him.

“…E-Every day?!”

“Yes.”

“……”

Bastet sucked in a sharp breath, the corners of his eyes flushed red.

He regretted everything.

He shouldn’t have lied! Damn his disguise—if it weren’t for that confidentiality agreement he signed with the intelligence system, he would’ve thrown it away ages ago!

And now, look at him.

Gripping his own tail, Bastet was on the verge of tears.

____

[Author’s Note – Little Theater]

Clueless Author: It was just a kiss! I swear I didn’t write anything out of line! Their tongues didn’t even touch! Please, dear moderator, have mercy!!!

Bastet: Thank the heavens for Yofar’s allergy—I managed to keep my dignity!

Yofar (coldly): Tomorrow, I’ll personally pluck them all out, one by one.

Bastet: …

T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊