Iskander's boots crunched over the dry leaves as he stalked deeper into the woods, his broad shoulders tense beneath his worn leather coat, the afternoon sun filtering through the canopy in broken shafts that did nothing to ease the storm in his chest. He had come here seeking solitude after another endless day of farm work and market haggling in the village, but his mind refused to quiet, replaying the latest grating encounter with Nali just yesterday—her shrill laugh cutting through the tavern as she bumped into him, spilling ale on his boots with that oblivious, unassuming smile that made her plain face seem even more repulsive. "What a clumsy, irritating shrew," he muttered to himself, the memory fueling his steps as he veered toward the ancient oak, its gnarled roots promising a quiet spot away from the world. Flashbacks clawed at him: the way she always lingered too close during harvest gatherings, her slender frame and long dark hair doing nothing to mask how unattractive he found her chatter, her resilience in the face of his sarcasm only stoking his obsessive disdain. Daily life felt poisoned by her presence, every interaction a reminder of why he loathed her so deeply.

A soft, breathy moan halted him at the tree's base, and there she was—Nali, half-reclined against the mossy trunk, her skirts hiked up, fingers working between her thighs in a private rhythm that made his stomach churn with disgust. "Gods, not her," he hissed under his breath, the sight of her exposed pussy repulsive at first glance amid his hatred, yet something twisted inside him, drawing him closer until the scent of her arousal hit like a forbidden lure. "What the hell are you doing out here, Nali?" he demanded, voice rough, but she only gasped and met his eyes with playful defiance, her hand pausing. "Iskander... I didn't think anyone would find me. Join me if you want, or keep scowling—your choice." His self-loathing surged as he dropped to his knees anyway, muttering, "This is disgusting, you annoying little thing," before admitting through gritted teeth, "But damn it, I like your cunt." He leaned in, tongue dragging along her slick folds with deliberate strokes, tasting her heat as she moaned his name, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. "Yes, Iskander, lick it just like that—deeper, feel how wet I am for you," she urged, her slender hips bucking against his mouth while he gripped her thighs, his muscular frame shuddering with unwanted arousal. He sucked at her clit, alternating with firm licks inside her, building her pleasure until her body tensed and she cried out, "I'm cumming—oh gods, yes!"

Her orgasm pulsed against his tongue, juices coating his lips as she trembled in release, but Iskander pulled back with a curse, wiping his mouth and glaring at her flushed form. "I can't believe I licked it," he spat, chest heaving with conflict, "and I still hate you, Nali, but I want your pussy anyway."

Shadows of Desire Under the Oak