The cold water wasn't working.
Arven stood under the stream, hands braced on the slick wall, head down, steam curling around his shoulders. His shoulder had snapped back into place minutes ago with a brutal crack that echoed in the empty room. The bruises from the fight were already gone. But the tension hadn't faded.
Her blood still lingered on his tongue, warm and electric. It burned through his chest, twisted something wild through his veins. Every breath felt shallow. Every second dragged like something waiting to break.
He tried to still his thoughts, let the icy spray numb him. His body wouldn't calm.
Then came the sound. Footsteps. Bare. Confident. Unrushed.
He didn't turn.
The door swung shut behind her.
Clothes dropped, one piece at a time.
"Didn't expect you to run straight to the shower," came her voice, low, rough, amused.
Veyra stepped through the steam like a storm. Bare. Unbothered.
Water hit her skin as she stepped into the spray beside him.
Her palm met his chest, flat, warm, certain.
"You look rough," she said.
"I'm still standing."
"Let's fix that."
She went for his mouth, but Arven grabbed her first, hand in her hair, grip hard enough to make her gasp. He pulled her in and kissed her, tongue pushing past her lips, setting the pace from the start.
When her hand found his cock, he didn't let her take control.
He shoved her back against the wall. The wet smack of her back on tile echoed loud. Her grin widened.
"There he is."
He didn't reply. He didn't need to.
His hand gripped her thigh and lifted. He stepped between her legs and pressed his cock against her slick slit. She was already soaked, not from the water. Her heat pulsed against him, hips shifting to meet the pressure.
"You want it?" he growled.
She wrapped her leg tighter around his waist. "No," she spat. "I will have it"
He thrusted in.
Veyra gasped, her back arching as her nails bit into his shoulders. He slammed into her, driving her into the wall again and again. The slap of wet skin echoed through the shower, lost under the roar of water.
She tried to match him. She fought to ride him back. But Arven didn't give her room.
He set the rhythm.
Her moans turned guttural, feral.
"Is that all that blood gave you?"
He grinned, blood rising hot in his veins.
"Not even close."
He grabbed beneath her thighs and lifted her higher. Her legs locked around him as he pounded into her deeper, harder. Her gasps turned ragged, her voice breaking as the rhythm climbed.
Her body tightened around him, a sharp moan tearing free as she came, biting into his shoulder to keep her voice muffled.
She kissed him again, tongue hungry, clinging to him as the waves rolled through her.
"You're fucking addicted," she whispered.
He thrust again.
"To this?"
"To me."
Another kiss. Another moan.
Then she pulled back, panting, voice low.
"Set me down."
She turned him with a sudden shove.
His back hit the wall. Steam curled around her as she dropped to her knees. She took him into her mouth without hesitation, lips stretching, tongue working fast and deep.
Arven growled, hand in her hair, the other braced against tile.
She bobbed fast, no teasing now. Her throat took him deeper with every stroke. Her nails dug into his thigh for leverage as she worked him, loud and wet.
She pulled off with a pop, spit on his cock, then looked up, eyes wild, lips red.
"Ready to finish it?"
He hauled her up by the arms.
She spun and bent over, bracing herself against the wall, ass high.
"Come on, Ghoul," she growled. "Make it count."
Arven grabbed her hips and drove into her with a single, brutal thrust.
She cried out, forehead hitting tile. He grunted and slammed into her again, harder.
Her ass slapped against him with each stroke. Her moans came high.
He reached around, fingers finding her clit.
She bucked, legs shaking.
"Fuck, Arven!"
She came again, louder this time. Her body shook, knees nearly giving out.
He held her steady, fucking through it.
He was close.
Too close.
"Inside," she gasped, looking back at him with glassy eyes.
He didn't ask twice.
With a final thrust, he buried himself deep and came, cock pulsing hard as he emptied inside her, every drop claimed.
They stayed like that, water still falling.
Steam clung to them. Only the sound of their breath filled the space.
Veyra straightened slowly, shoving wet hair out of her face. Her legs wobbled, but she was still grinning.
Arven leaned back against the wall, catching his breath.
"You were less aggressive this time," he said. "Feeling weak after all the fighting?"
Veyra turned, chest rising and falling, still flushed.
"One more word," she warned, voice dark, "and I put another hole in you."
Just as Arven pulled away from her, breath finally settling, the sound of a door creaking open echoed faintly through the steam.
Footsteps.
Someone had entered the showers.
A voice followed, hesitant.
"Shit, uh, sorry, I didn't know-"
Veyra turned her head, eyes snapping toward the sound like a beast catching scent.
"You've got three seconds to walk out!" she growled, voice still raw.
The footsteps paused.
"Right. Sorry, I.."
"One."
A louder scuffle of feet.
"Two."
A sharp clatter, whoever it was had dropped something.
"Don't make me say three."
There was a scramble. Then the door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Arven laughed, low and spent, water running down his face.
Veyra didn't even look at him. She just leaned back against the wall, hair slicked to her shoulders, chest still rising and falling with a faint smirk curling her lips.
"I should've smashed his head anyway," she muttered.