Douma X Reader 18+ ⚠️

Chapter 2

“You have nothing to thank me for, dear. I only wish to see you and everyone else happy, after all. Even those who have yet to give themselves over to my embrace have only but my sincerest well wishes. Though I must say,” A strange look flitted across his face then, half sly amusement and half disappointed reproach. You started slightly, icy confusion rushing in to replace the warm, muddled euphoria surging through your system as you watched his brows lift in affected pity. “I do have to wonder if you aren’t lacking in some necessity or another. I’m afraid you smell particularly ripe today, love.”

Blushing red hot, you flusteredly ducked your head in shame. “I - I’m so sorry, Douma-sama. I can’t possibly apologize enough,” You stammered, trembling right down to the tips of your toes with deeply felt embarrassment. “Please forgive my rudeness. I’ll excuse myself immediately and -”

Douma cut across you with a quiet, unobtrusive noise that rumbled up from deep within his broad chest and you immediately clamped your mouth shut. He shifted, braced his elbow on one knee, and propped his chin up almost thoughtfully as he studied you with a great deal of consideration. Clearly thinking. Idly tapping one sharp nail against the meat of his cheek. Weighing your sentence.

“I don’t think a bath is what you need right now. It’s something much more personal than that, isn’t it?”

You jumped when his gilded fan snapped closed with another deafening thwack and you watched, awestruck, as he leaned back against the mountain of red pillows flanking him on all sides. He seemed more bemused than anything else, the skin at the corners of his rainbow-hued eyes wrinkling slightly with the force of the smile he pinned you with.

“Come closer, child. Let me have a proper look at you now.”

Unhesitatingly you obeyed and scooted closer, heart hammering against your ribcage as you crossed the invisible barrier separating the rest of the worship hall from Douma’s secluded little bubble of red silk curtains and offerings served up on cherry lacquered trays. It felt like you were slipping further away from reality and deeper into the comfortable void of oblivion. You’d only observed a handful of followers being invited into his personal space like this since coming here but you’d never before received the honor. Not until now. It was nervewracking and mystifying in equal measure - hadn’t he just gotten done saying that you smelled only moments ago?

You could never deny him any request though and you settled in front of the holy leader, feeling restless and anxious. A thrumming ball of nervous energy liable to explode at any given moment.

Contrarily Douma was altogether unperturbed, casually drawing his shimmering gaze over your body at a leisurely pace. He paused on the column of your neck - making you swallow much too forcibly for comfort - before shifting down to linger on your chest. Then it was down to your stomach and you shifted self consciously after a prolonged moment, wondering what he was thinking. Finally, his attention roved even lower to regard the plush curve of your thighs.

“Do you trust me?” He ventured at last, peering into your face once again.

“Of course I do. With my very life.”

Tittering as if the very notion tickled him to no end, Douma set aside his fan and reached for you with an elegant hand. “I’m so happy to hear that, darling. You’re safe with me. Don’t ever forget that.”

Thick fingers slipped, unhindered, into the neck of your kimono and you tensed at the contact of his knuckles against your skin. He’d never touched you like this before, not quite so personally, and you thrilled at the intimacy of the action. But if Douma noticed your reaction he certainly didn’t show it, pulling and tugging the fabric down over your shoulder until you eagerly arched when one breast was exposed to the cool, smoky air.

His smile only widened, making your nipple pebble to an aching point.

“Mmm,” Douma hummed softly, the melodic lilt in his voice carrying over the quiet noise of the gathered congregation like a chiming, ominous bell. “You look so healthy now. Nothing like when you first showed up here, though I do think you could stand to put on a just a few more pounds.”

He curled his fingers down and gently nudged the meat of your breast as if testing the weight of it. You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open when your lashes fluttered, tickling the curve of your cheeks. A whimper tried to claw its way up out of your throat but you dutifully bit it back, fearing that giving too much away now would spoil the moment.

“These are filling out quite nicely,” Douma said in such a casual manner you’d think he was discussing the weather as his hand reached to tug the other shoulder of your kimono down. “But the signs of malnourishment are still there. Your collarbone protrudes a little too much and your arms are so fragile looking. I’m worried that if I handle you too carelessly, you’ll break right in half!”

You chanced a terse, halting laugh when he fixed you with a good-natured grin, those dark brows of his lifting in what you assumed to be humor. It was hard to think straight when you could feel yourself sinking deeper into the ruby dyed haze of absolution only he could offer, its gently rolling waves threatening to drag you under until you drowned. You drew a stuttering breath, trying to calm yourself by some margin, but the air puffed out of you in a surprised gasp when he carefully traced the pad of his thumb over your tightening nipple.

“This is what you need, isn’t it? I can smell the arousal just coming off you right now.” Giggling, Douma cocked his head to one side with a surprising amount of childish naivety reflecting back at you from his expression. “Were you by chance playing with yourself before coming here?”

Shuddering so hard that something in your lower vertebrae popped, you swayed forward unsteadily. How had he known? Were you really that transparent or - far more likely to your punch-drunk mind - was he simply that omniscient in all his divine wisdom? That he knew the truth without even having to ask unnerved you as much as it exhilarated you, boiling blood rushing to pool in your gut even as you shyly averted your gaze.

“Are you displeased with me, Douma-sama?”