The darkness didn’t settle.

It pressed.

Hot. Wet. Heavy.

The hiss of the shower became a growl against their skin. Steam hung like smoke after a gunshot, clinging to their mouths, their fingers, the space between their bodies.

Noa was breathing too fast. Every inhale scraped. Every exhale came out like a moan he was trying and failing to swallow.

A hand still gripped his jaw. Damien’s. Rough, claiming.

Another still traced the hollow of his throat, thumb against the pulse that wouldn’t ...