Her mind betrayed her in one bright, indecent flash: her gloved fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his maroon trousers, curious and amused at first. Then not clinical at all. His small, surprised gasp. The way his violet eyes might flutter half-closed. The heat of him against her palm.
She shook her head. Trying to push away those thoughts. She was really surprised at her own thoughts. How could she think about her young master so indecently? 'What am I thinking? What's wrong with me?' she thought.
She inhaled. Her cheeks slightly pink. She gazed at Azael's face. For some reason he looked more handsome and attractive to her.
Azael was no different. He was barely controlling himself. She was closer to him. Her soft huge breasts now more near. As if asking him to play with them. Change their shapes and enjoying the softness. 'Damn! I have to control myself. Azael you can't lose... you have to focus.' He encouraged himself. His breathing became slightly heavy.
"I…" Isabel forced her voice steady. "I understand now why you called me here in private."
Azael risked another glance at her. "I don't want to force you. I swear. If this makes you uncomfortable, if it's too much. I'll never mention it again. I just… I need to know. If it's really possible. If I can be… normal. With someone. With… you..." his eyes dropped down in dejected expression.
The last word came out so softly it was almost lost in the quiet crackle of the burning sticks.
Isabel's hands, folded primly in her lap, tightened until the knuckles beneath her gloves showed white.
She thought of every time she had smoothed his hair when he was small. Every time she had bandaged a scraped knee. Every quiet night she would stay with him until he falls asleep.
What he was asking was totally wrong. Not forgetting she was married. But... she didn't know why? She just couldn't think straight.
Her thighs clenched against each other unconsciously.
Azael noticed her trembling.
He then put his palm on her gloved hand.
She flinched at his touch. Heat rose towards her face. Her cheeks flushed more. Her black eyes met the pair of violet eyes.
She gulped down her saliva again.
Azael saw all of her expression. From outside he was acting like innocent. But inside he was like a beast who wanted to lunge on its prey.
He licked his lips. Then slid closer to her. Their thighs touched against each other.
"Isabel... please.." Azael asked her in pleading tone. His eyes slightly watery. Lips trembling in nervousness.
At this point she had inhaled a lot of aphrodisiac. That only made her not think straight.
She was getting more aroused as Azael got closer to her. And now this. A request so vulnerable it made her chest ache.
His teary expression only made her weaker. The walls slowly started to break.
The aphrodisiac was no longer subtle. Warmth pooled low in her belly, slow and insidious. Her nipples tightened beneath the stretched apron. They stiffened hard. She shifted her thighs together beneath the long skirt, trying to quell the sudden, shameful pulse between them. It was a shameful feeling. Because she felt it for her young master.
She drew a long, slow breath through her nose. The scent of the incense filled her lungs like syrup.
"…If it will be really helpful," she said at last, voice quieter than usual, "then.. I- I will help you. As your maid. As… someone who cares for you."
Azael's eyes widened. Hope and terror warred on his face in equal measure. "You mean… you'll…?" While he was thinking something else. He was happy and excited. 'Yes! She accepted! Yes!'
Isabel just didn't know what was going on. She would just do what could help Azael. 'I don't know this anymore. I will just help him out.' She thought, slightly dazed.
Isabel nodded once, small, decisive. "But we do this properly." Her tone firmed, the familiar crispness of the head maid returning like armor. "Slowly. Carefully. You will tell me the moment anything feels wrong, or uncomfortable, or too much. And if at any point you wish to stop, we stop. Immediately. Do you understand, Young Master?"
Azael nodded so fast it was almost comical. "Yes. Yes, I promise." His acting was getting more and more better.
Isabel exhaled through her nose. Then, moving with the same deliberate grace she used when setting a tea tray. She adjusted her glasses.
She turned toward him. "May I… touch you?" she asked, formal even now.
Azael's throat worked. He gave a jerky nod.
Her gloved right hand lifted hesitated, then settled lightly on his knee.
The contact was barely there, yet Azael sucked in a sharp breath anyway. 'Good..'
Isabel's gaze dropped to where her fingers rested. She watched, curious and fascinated at once, as a visible tremor ran through his thigh.
"Already…?" she murmured, almost to herself.
Her touch was light yet Azael felt a tremor running through his thigh. She was so close to him. He could smell her scent mixed with incense.
Her soft hands rubbing his thighs slowly. With deliberate movement.
She slid her left hand up slowly, following the line of his leg until her palm came to rest high on his inner thigh, close enough that the heat of him radiated through the fabric.
Azael made a small, choked sound. He was really losing control.
Isabel's cheeks were no longer faintly pink.
They were scarlet. And still she did not pull away.
Isabel's gloved fingers trembled for a single heartbeat, then continued their slow, deliberate journey inward. She moved her hand higher, slipping beneath the edge of his maroon trousers, the fabric parting easily under her touch. Her palm brushed the warm skin of his groin, inching closer until her fingertips grazed the soft, hidden heat there.
Azael's breath hitched sharply. His violet eyes widened, a low, involuntary whimper escaping his lips as her fingers explored the sensitive area with careful, hesitant strokes. The thin barrier of his undergarments was the only thing left between her touch and his most vulnerable place. He couldn't believe that she actually put her hand insde his trouser. But it didn't go inside his undergarment. 'I'm going crazy!' Azael couldn't help but thought.
Isabel's black eyes stayed locked on his face, watching every flicker of reaction, her own breathing growing heavier.