The One and Only Sami Chapter 46

When he saw Sami curled into a ball, buried deep into the bed, even Razard was a bit taken aback. A quick glance around showed that the room had been cleaned—Sami must have finished that chore he’d been begging to do—but the boy looked incredibly blue.

“Sami?”

Razard crossed his arms and leaned his upper body down to get a look at him. The necklaces and earrings draped over his frame shifted loosely, making a soft, enchanting clink.

“What are you doing?”

“…Nothing.”

“I can see that. I just wondered why you’re all scrunched up and sulky again.”

Razard leaned in and gave the tip of Sami’s nose a playful flick. Sami curled even tighter, burying his face deeper. Ah, there he went again—turning into a little ball. He looked just like a snail retreating into its shell at the slightest touch.

Sami’s expression looked more dampened than usual. Lately, Razard seemed to find him like this often, huddling with his knees pulled to his chest.

“The room looks spotless, but the most precious thing in it is looking all shriveled up. Is something wrong?”

“You only say that…”

“Hmm?”

“You only say I’m precious.”

A disgruntled voice mumbled out. It seemed his tiny head was stuffed full of thoughts again. Razard had gone to great lengths—putting him to sleep and heating up his body—to clear those thoughts out, but they seemed to have grown back like weeds while he was away.

“I don’t get to talk to anyone…, and my body feels weird, too.”

“Weird? Weird how?”

He played the innocent, despite knowing exactly why.

“Just… everything.”

“I see.”

Razard accepted Sami’s justified grumbling without protest. He gently hugged Sami’s curled-up form from behind, idly kneading the hands that were clutching his knees.

“…I feel like I’m becoming a fool.”

“Mmm…”

“And I’m scared. I don’t know how long I have to stay like this.”

Really. As far as “pets” went, this kid was a total failure.

It would be so much better if he’d just empty his head and live for the good things he was being given.

At first, Razard had been pleased with how well he’d acclimated. Within a month, Sami was wearing breezy clothes that showed off his waist as if he’d been born in them, and he was even hand-brushing Ratun and Akum. Sometimes even Razard was impressed by his adaptability.

But Sami thought too much. Then again, he was the same kid who had imagined all sorts of things the first time they met.

“You know, some people would say you’re living the dream. Fine clothes, delicious food…”

Razard’s lips twisted into a smile.

“You’re even in a position where you can talk back to me.”

And yet, all he used that position for was to say, ‘I feel like an idiot, give me a broom.’

Well, he liked that Sami wasn’t a social climber, even if it did make him a bit tricky to handle.

Whatever. It’s cute. I’ll enjoy the show.

Razard shook his head with a self-deprecating chuckle. He found himself making a lot of exceptions for Sami—an indulgence that would probably make Sami faint if he ever realized the extent of it.

“Sami.”

After stroking the small, overactive head, Razard spoke in a bright tone.

“If you’re feeling cooped up, shall we go out?”

“What?”

“I used to go out all the time, remember?”

To see you.

At that pointed remark, Sami fell silent and lifted his head just a fraction. Only his amber eyes peeked out from behind the fortress of his arms.

Since Razard was hugging him from behind, he had to crane his neck to see the boy’s face. Sami wouldn’t meet his eyes, but his obvious interest was adorable.

“I have something to show you. Shall we head out tomorrow, hmm? Just like the old days.”

Taking advantage of the boy’s momentary lapse in guard, Razard skillfully moved his kneading hands. Sami’s curled arms slowly unraveled under Razard’s touch.

Razard pressed his body close, soothing the curled form naturally so Sami wouldn’t overthink it. As he stroked the soft forearms and shoulders, the ends of Sami’s awkwardly grown-out hair tickled the back of his hand.

Razard watched the reaction—the way Sami’s skin felt perfect against his palm and the way the back of his neck shivered.

“We’ll go beyond the palace. We’ll call the carpet and fly past the city walls before coming back. How about it?”

Sami thought of the oasis. He remembered the time he had flown with Razard on the carpet.

He remembered dipping his feet into the spring under the shade of the trees and chewing on dates. He had bickered with Razard then, too, but the man had sat there in the shade, laughing easily as he looked at him.

Now, he realized that look had been one of observation—calculating his usefulness—but still…

“…The carpet, too?”

“Yes.”

Sami still held a certain longing for Razard’s eccentricities—the way the man had plucked him from his daily life and plunged him into a spring.

“I brought you to the palace and made you feel trapped, after all.”

As Sami wavered on the edge of giving in, Razard pulled him even closer. His lean, muscular frame pressed firmly against Sami’s small back; it looked less like a comfort and more like a capture.

Gulp. Razard felt Sami swallow secretly. His shoulders, tensing and then relaxing, gave him away completely.

Razard buried his face against the crown of Sami’s head, feeling every tiny reaction with his whole body.

Hmm… he might be perfectly ripe now.

“So, it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re never bored.”

He intentionally blew a soft breath against the flushed back of Sami’s neck. He saw the boy cover his mouth with both hands, trying to stifle a tiny moan.

Sami’s waist trembled slightly, a metaphorical question mark hovering over his head. He looked bewildered, wondering why he was reacting so sensitively again.

“Shall we?”

Finally, Razard leaned in and whispered low into Sami’s ear.

“…”

There was no verbal answer, but Sami’s head gave a tiny, sharp nod.

Honestly, Razard knew the answer even without the nod. Seeing the boy’s ears turn beet-red was proof enough.

Instead of biting the hot earlobe, he simply rubbed his cheek against Sami’s soft hair. For now, these little jolts of stimulation were enough.

Razard smiled broadly, even if Sami couldn’t see it. The boy was cute, but he was certainly high-maintenance.

I wonder when you’ll finally empty that head of yours and become a proper little fool for me.

For the first time in a while, Sami donned baggy trousers and a wide belt. His excitement at wearing practical clothes instead of flowing, jingling silks lasted only a moment.

“I knew it…”

The thrill of slipping out of the palace and taking off on the carpet with Razard was short-lived.

“I shouldn’t have trusted Razard…”

Sami slumped in the middle of the desert, defeated.

It’s a secret tryst, just the two of us. He hadn’t said it in those exact words, but he’d practically lured Sami out with that vibe. With that lean, powerful body, that suggestive voice, and that intoxicating scent, he’d melted Sami’s brain…

“We’re out, aren’t we? We rode the carpet. We’re on an outing together.”

“Who goes on an outing in the middle of the desert?!”

The place where Razard had dropped him was a desolate stretch of sand so vast that even the palace was just a shimmering mirage on the horizon. There was absolutely nothing in sight.

There weren’t even any vultures circling today; the only shadows on the dunes were those of Razard, Sami, and the carpet.

“There, there.”

Razard popped a date into Sami’s mouth just as he was about to complain. The sweet, sticky syrup clung to the roof of his mouth.

The date was delicious, and the desert was brilliant gold under the sun, but… the blowing sand stung his eyes. To block the wind, Sami loosened the side knot of his turban slightly so it draped down. He looked like a puppy with floppy ears.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“Of course I don’t! The sand is constantly—mgh—blowing! I can’t even open my mouth!”

“Hmm, is that so?”

Razard patted the top of Sami’s turbaned head.

“So the point is, as long as it’s not the middle of the desert, we’re good?”

Is that how he’s interpreting this?

Sami wanted to argue further, but he was cut off by a cheerful, “Message received.”

Razard stretched his interlaced fingers out in front of him. As he reached, his supple muscles defined themselves clearly through his frame. His fluid movements exuded a sense of effortless grace. After loosening up his body, Razard finally lifted a leg.

“Um, Razard?”

By the time he could ask what the man was doing, it was too late.

With a grin still on his face, Razard brought his foot down with a heavy, powerful stomp.