Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 83: Biology

Chapter 83: Biology

Atticus was taking a lot longer in the bathroom than Daphne expected. She thought he would be dressed the moment he washed himself, but he was taking an extraordinarily long time. He didn’t have long hair to wash!

Normally, she would knock on the door to check if he had drowned himself in the bathtub, but right now, she was the one that wanted to take a long deep dive into the water and not resurface.

Instead, Daphne anxiously paced around the room, biting her lip as she tried to form an apology for grabbing somewhere so sensitive. Her tutors have schooled her in royal etiquette, but they had never taught her how to respond to such a situation.

How could she have grabbed his manhood as though it was a pole? Without permission? What if she had accidentally ripped it off?

What if Atticus got so angry he sent her back to the palace?

A low groan escaped the room. Daphne paused, her face turning red as she realized what was happening.

Atticus was― oh my goodness! In their bathwater! How could he?!

Her hands automatically flew to cover her face in embarrassment, even though she knew no one was there to see or hear.

Then she nearly shrieked, taking her palms off her face. Oh god, she had touched her face with the same hand that touched his manhood! Even though she had wiped it clean with every single fabric she could lay her hands on ― from her own dresses to the bedding to even the curtains ― she could still feel the weight of it― of him, in her palm.

That hand felt like it was on fire, as though Daphne had channeled her latent pyromancy abilities.

Oh gosh. What if she did? If her magic powers had decided to come through in the tub, would Daphne have completely cut off the family tree of Vramid’s royal family?

She stared at the hand again, willing for some flame to form. Surely the heavens could spare her some grace in this trying period. Surely something good came out of her actions?

Her hand simply remained a hand. Cool to the touch, other than the slight heat that had formed due to her erratic thoughts about a certain someone that was pleasuring himself in the bathroom.

Daphne could have wept in disappointment.

Even though she felt no heat of her magic, Daphne could still feel the phantom sensation of Atticus’s manhood touching her palm.

She had squeezed and tugged and felt it throb in her hand, as though it had a life of its own. It was bigger than she expected, and the thought of it possibly entering her in the future made her face pale, even as her own womanhood responded with eager want. Moisture had started to pool between her thighs and Daphne squeezed her thighs together as much as possible to prevent it from dripping onto the sheets beneath her.

No! It would never happen! She simply had to apologize for taking such liberties with him. She would grovel with full sincerity. It was a complete accident. She would never have touched him like this on purpose.

If needed, she would even go on her knees!

Or would she? Daphne thought about it more carefully, glancing down at her hand. She remembered how Atticus hissed and cursed when she touched him, her ears warming at his words.

Could she do more to him? What more could she do? How would he react, if she took him in her hands?

’No, no, no. Bad thoughts,’ Daphne scolded herself.

She was not supposed to be thinking about this. She had already taken advantage of Atticus so intimately. She was a proper princess, a true lady. She should not be thinking such... despicable thoughts of Atticus.

Even if he was technically her husband.

They hadn’t consummated their marriage, so he wasn’t truly her husband.

Did Atticus want to consummate their marriage?

She could make him want to. She looked at herself in the small mirror― Daphne knew that while she wasn’t the most beautiful or curvy of women, she had her own charms. All she had to do was to take off her gown and...

No. Daphne shut that thought immediately, and just in time because Atticus emerged from the bathroom, red-faced with his hair still dripping water all over the floor.

The both of them stared at each other in surprise.

"A-Atticus!" Daphne squeaked out. "Where’s your shirt?"

"Forgot to bring it in with me," Atticus said, not meeting her eyes. He simply strode around the room in his breeches, digging for a spare tunic that would be long enough to cover any accidental... risings.

Just the very sight of his wife in her nightgown was enough to stir him up, especially when she looked at him, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen red.

It made her look extremely kissable. And that nightgown was thinner than her usual gowns. It faithfully followed her every curve the same way the water in the bathtub flowed down her body when she stood up to flee.

He had to get himself under control. Firstly, he had to explain himself.

"I―"

"I―"

They both spoke at the same time, accidentally meeting eyes.

"You first."

"No, no, I insist. You first."

"Alright then." Atticus cleared his throat. "First of all, I understand this must have been a great upset. If you wish to sleep alone after this I completely understand."

"It’s fine! We can share a bed!" Daphne said, her face still glowing red. She was surprised at how much she wanted him to sleep with her. "After all, it’s... normal? Isn’t it?"

"...You can say that. It’s a perfectly normal physical reaction. It’s not caused by you specifically," Atticus lied. He had to make Daphne comfortable. "In my youth, even a stiff breeze could have caused it. A lot of women have also caused it. You’re not the exception."

"Oh." Daphne paused, blinking rapidly as hurt curdled in her stomach. She was just there. A warm body that happened to be in the right place at the right time. There was nothing special about her that he found exceptionally desirable. "I see. Thank you for informing me."

"You’re welcome. Now what is it you wanted to say to me?"

"I just wanted to apologize. For grabbing you without warning," Daphne said, bowing quickly to hide the tears that threatened to form in her eyes. Thankfully, she hadn’t said anything about offering to consummate their relationship. Atticus would only look at her with pity. "Do you still want to share a bed with me?"

"It’s fine," Atticus said hoarsely. "I would love to, provided there’s no sudden grabbing." He spoke with a wry grin on his lips.

Daphne tried to smile in return. "I’ll keep my hands to myself."

Her husband hated her touch.

Before he could see her break down, she quickly curled under the covers of the bed, pulling the blanket all the way up to her cheek. She faced away from him, scrunching up on her side like a ball as she hurriedly blinked back her tears.

"Goodnight, Atticus."

Atticus could only blink in surprise at his wife’s quick change in mood. She must have been worried to exhaustion about him! It was only right for him to let her fall asleep first. Jonah said he was a rowdy sleeper.

"Goodnight, Daphne," Atticus said. "I’ll go check on Jonah. You can sleep first."

"...I see," Daphne said woodenly.

Was she that repulsive?

She heard Atticus’s footsteps fade into the distance as the door closed behind him, and finally let her tears fall.