Kael
The shower shut off with a soft click, leaving only the gentle drip of water and the steady rhythm of our breathing. Steam still curled lazily through the bathroom, fogging the mirror and wrapping the space in warm intimacy.
Drake stepped out first, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his hips. I followed, grabbing one for myself.
We moved in comfortable silence to the sink. Drake stood in front of the mirror, running a hand through his damp hair as droplets traced slow paths down his back.
The sight of him—relaxed, trusting, here in my space—pulled at something deep in my chest.
I stepped up behind him.
My towel slipped to the floor, forgotten. I pressed close, bare chest against his back, and brushed my lips softly against the warm skin between his shoulder blade
