**Content Warning: Sexual Activity**
Tycondrius pursed his lips as he mulled over Byul's words.
What was the correct answer?
...He decided to allow her to make her own conclusion.
pαпdα-ňᴏνê|·сóМ Byul looked away... "I don't prefer ze company of men."
Tycon smiled politely, patiently waiting for her to continue...
Byul's legs released her grip on his waist... and she lied there listlessly, "Y-you may leave. I... I can pass on, now."
"Don't be so careless," Tycon rolled his eyes.
"...A-alright."
"...and stop crying."
"I'm not crying."
Tycon sighed as he turned to walk away. As of recent, it seemed there had been an alarming increase of regularity... in him making grown women cry.
It was bothersome.
He took the kettle and poured the still warm-water into a tea bowl and whisked the tea without ceremony.
Returning to the desk, he helped Byul's body sit up. Taking her uncertain hands, he guided them to take hold of the ceramic cup.
...Then he placed her head back on her body.
"Drink," He said.
"(It's still hot...)" She muttered.
"Do as I say, young lady."
She took a small sip... then turned her body completely around, sitting cross-legged and facing away from him... "(I can make my own tea...)"
Tycon gently rubbed the teary-eyed woman's back, "I know."
"(I'm... I'm a High-Captain of the Royal Navy...) I do not... need your help."
That was interesting. Byul was not rejecting his forcefulness... or insisting that he leave. The way she spoke... made Tycon believe it was best to remain.
...He quietly kept her company as she cried to herself.
From what he knew, military leaders were often prone to dark thoughts... and Byul had been worse off, as she had no support system of similarly-ranked individuals to share her worries with... and for so many years.
He appreciated the fact that she was peaceable.
Had Byul been a violent and angry apparition, the conversation would have certainly ended in her defeat and dissipation. Then, he and Krysaos could very well have been floating in the middle of the ocean, relying on his paltry mana pool to keep them both alive.
Or rather, knowing Krysaos... he would have kept himself alive. Tycon would likely be ejected from his ⌈Water Sphere⌋, and forced to chance his luck swimming in a single direction before drowning to death.
Tycon reminisced of Sol Invictus' second-in-command... Dragan Ashlord. The Titanblood was always willing to listen to his gripes... and his brutal honesty was always refreshing.
He thought of High-Captain Lang Hai, the Sect Master of the Sea Wolf sect. The brash young gentleman was the same... incredibly rude, but ultimately understanding of complaints and mental insecurities.
Then, he thought of Archbishop Natalya Crucis.
They shared many things. They had become close companions.
Even still... he had rejected her... and she had not forgiven him for it, even going as far as finding a different lover soon after.
A proper relationship between them would be toxic and problematic. If presented with similar circumstances, he would again refuse.
He cared for Natalya for more than just her body.
...and he did not intend to purposely hurt her.
After so many minutes of whimpering, Byul's shy voice returned him to his current circumstances, "I... have anozher request."
Tycon smoothed his hands on her back before standing up and stretching his back, "I pray it's not as foolish as your last one, Byul."
"(I want you...)" She whispered... too low for a normal human to hear, "(to embrace me.)"
Tycon furrowed his brows.
Did she mean that... literally? Or figuratively?
He assumed she meant it in a literal sense. A warm embrace was comforting... even if the impropriety of the action, especially in a woman's private quarters, was somewhat daunting.
He embraced Byul from behind to chase away her dark thoughts... and he took special care not to jostle her so her head would fall off.
"Is this alright?" Tycon spoke softly.
"Mm..." She crossed her hands over his arms... and they sat still.
A consenting embrace was always pleasant.
However... he found Byul's natural sea-touched scent attractive and had to concentrate as to not alarm her with his body's physical reaction.
"Tycon..." Byul turned around to face him, a look of uncertainty in her sea-green gaze... "I have... (I've never... been with a man before... sexually.)"
Tycon's eyes widened in shock for the briefest of moments.
It was figurative. She was asking him to bed her.
She reached her hands forward... and Tycon reflexively took them in his.
Empty night.
Tycon raised an eyebrow, "You mentioned you don't prefer the company of men."
If the woman still thought she owed him, he would refuse. He crafted a ritual circle for her out of goodwill and sheer boredom. He did not require nor would ask for Byul to open his legs for him, as payment.
...Also, necrophilia was a crime.
"(Your touch... it's made things difficult,)" Byul frowned... but spoke with a firm voice, "(I... need... to be taken... to feel the warmth of a man inside of me... and I want it to be you.)"
Tycon gulped hard-- having nearly choked on his saliva.
"(I don't want a relationship,)" Byul added. "(I have to keep appearances with my crew, after all... but you won't refuse, will you?)"
Tycon did not particularly enjoy the concept of sexual relations without the intent of a monogamous relationship.
However... it was a mutually beneficial request.
He found both Byul's demeanor and physical body attractive...
He approved of the fact that a woman-- no, any person, could be so confident in their sexuality to request intercourse without emotional attachment.
...Also, their relationship would surely sour if he were to refuse.
And thus, Tycon accepted Byul's invitation... and ravaged her atop her desk.
...
Tycon spent most of his remaining time on the Jade Rabbit in the company of High-Captain Byul... and had come to know her body in intimate detail.
However... he had a sneaking suspicion that she enjoyed herself more than he did.
Her loud, unapologetic moaning attested to that fact.
...He wondered if he over-tuned the spell formation that increased her sensitivity... or if Byul's body was naturally receptive to pleasure and pain.
She pleaded in a small voice, asking to be punished... to be slapped with open palms hard enough to leave marks... for the sharp edge of a blade to cut the outer layer of her skin and draw her ghostly blood.
She cried out, demanding that Tycon asphyxiate her. At first, it was acceptable to wrap his hands tenderly around her small neck. As the suns and nights went by, she requested more forceful means... and Tycon did so by her air passageways.
Byul was very knowledgeable about her own body and her physical desires.
...It made Tycon doubt Byul's insistence on having never laid with a man.
Martialists did not lie... but lying about one's virginity might have been permissible in her culture.
In those suns, Tycon committed repeated criminal offenses...
He would just have to live with the 'guilt'.
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