This fire… home… felt so cold. So empty.

The entire settlement was silent in the night, only the roaring flames of the central pyre reaching Vodny's ears. She fell to her knees in front of the burning pile of branches and oil, her lips quivering. She could not move. She could not speak.

Her throat hurt from the screaming. Her eyes stung from crying. Her entire body ached from the pain of enduring. And in the end, she was left with nothing.

Her only sister, the other half to her every action and the hand that pulled her from their lowest… Her only mate, the only one to make her heart pulse with a glance of his beautiful blue eyes.

Her only reprieve from the cruelty of the gods. Hopes. Dreams. A life with purpose.

Gone.

Dozens of settlers gathered around the flames, yet she was the sole inheritor of the agony, the only one sitting at the base of her beloveds' remains. The beholder to their burning ashes. Those depths of despondency stuck to her, clenching her chest tighter.

She hardly noticed the approach of three beside her. Two cloaks of white and one of brown. The clergy.

The priest stood beside her, his tone low and tender. "May I bestow them luck upon their climb, sister Vodny?"

She bobbed her head once, her hands falling limp to her side.

Father Monbishoppe drew in a long breath, softly holding three hands out toward the fire. "Lord of our labor, protector of the children, I deliver upon you three valiant lives. The flames of home warm their hearts and tend their bones, their ascension left to your awaiting arms. In life, I took in their words of gratitude and their joy in diligence. In death, may their repentant and faithful souls find your vast solicitude and a place amongst your palace. Listen to their stories. Tend to their hearts. Bless the mourning…"

A lukewarm hand, heated from the flames, found its way onto the fisherwoman's shoulder. "You are not alone in your struggles. These tides do not crash solely upon you. Please, find me or my mates whenever you wish. I shall listen and we shall heal… May you find stable footing, sister."

She nodded again, not leaving her eyes from the flames. A shuttering breath left her weak in the wake of the priest's words.

Gone. Truly and utterly gone.

All of those nights with her twin, staring at the mountain and praying for food tomorrow. Missing their parents. Sharing quiet projections of intent over their dreams. Simple things like wanting to taste a sweet roll, to their hopes of finding a true mate. All of which were wild and unthinkable. But, they hoped. It kept them through the worst of their sins.

Now, here they were. Their dreams within their palms.

All for nothing. Reduced to worthless wisps of a fleeting thought.

She glared into the fire, feeling none of its warmth. Her snout trembled and her face wrinkled in frustration as tears welled in her eyes.

Her heart bled from a gaping hole.

"Again," she growled, leaning her head back and staring at the embers flying into the blackness above. She lost it all again. Not even her blood-sister was there to cradle her despondent, meaningless form.

…Her sister. Her twin. Her other half. All that was left.

Tears fell down her cheeks, dripping down her neck. She snarled, lashing out at the cinders flying away from her. "LIAR! You promised! You promised you would see us through! Your foolish frills never even atoned for your sins! We would make anew together! Why must you leave? Why must you take our love with you? Why must I be left with nothing! We swore we would never separate! We… We were going to have pups. We were going to be free!"

She heaved cries through clenched teeth, her projection of intent just as ragged. "I curse you! You wicked, lustful coward! It was all here! Your hopes. My dreams. We had everything! Why? Why must you leave me here alone?"

Her entire body was wracked with sobs, shaking to her core as her head fell low and her eyes shut tight. "What am I here for? You've left me nothing. What am I to do? I… I need you. Sister, please… Where would I be without you?"

Vodny tiredly shook her head as her knees fully collapsed. The faintest flicker of faith, of something more, sparked her words. "Oh, Lord of the Mountain. Lift me up from this cold ground. Leave me free from these worldly aches. Reunite me… Lord of my soul, reunite me with them! Declare my worth, find me dutiful or shameful. Please, give me their presence again. Give me their love. Lay me with their tomb, side by side, so I may gaze into their tender eyes. Please, I would trade hours for seconds with them. I am nothing… nothing without them."

A warmth encapsulated her shoulder. The only true heat she had felt for hours. She wished to ignore it, to find solitude in her agony and wash away into the seas of obscurity.

But he spoke. Quietly and gently. "Don't say that. Please."

Vodny glanced to the side. The Creator stood beside the fisherwoman, his fingers softly gripping her. His visage was weary, but he kept a reassuring look as he gazed into the fire with her. Those flames cast shadows around his face, glistening the tears welling in his eyes.

…Her chief. Her leader. The catalyst to it all.

A long exhale left her at the sight, the softest weight taken off her with his presence. His warmth sparked a fleeting flame of admiration within her, offering a sense of stability amongst the cold, blackened waves closing in. Her heart bled a little slower.

She softly raised a shaking hand out to him, a feeble hope begging to staunch this gaping wound within her. And he took it, pulling her into a tender embrace. She froze for a split second, stunned into a sharp inhale, before giving in, melting in his presence.

The star-sent was so small yet so warm. It… It reminded her of him…

Tears flowed once more from her eyes like blood as she stifled every cry and wail into clenched teeth. Her quivering arms grew tighter around his back.

She would give the stars and the seas to see her mates. To be with them is all she wanted. Her heart would always be in their possession, stripped out of her own chest. Missing them… Missing them was missing all.

But, for this moment, that emptiness did not feel so consuming. She spilled her vulnerability into the Creator and he held her closer. The tightness constricting around her chest was softened in his supporting arms.

His breathing was strained and pained, but his whisper healed. "You'll be okay. It's not over. I know you'll make it through."

Her inhale hitched, every word striking right through her. Her lips shuddered through weeping exhales.

He grunted as her talons dug into him, undeterred. "It hurts. I know. Just breathe… Breathe and you'll be okay."

Vodny drew her head back and pressed her face into his entire fur-coated chest, staunching her tears. His tender squeeze and subtle ministrations on her back cooled her searing lungs.

"You'll be okay."

Every cycle of air prolonged the pain… But she continued.

She continued, for not all was lost.

= = = = =

Harrison rested his elbows over massive star-fort parapets, the shorter side that looked over a five-story drop into the wall's interior. The settlement was quiet at this time of night. But it wasn't just quiet. Through the subtle chant of distant machines and the low whistle of the wind, it felt… withdrawn. He could feel its broken heart.

His head fell into an awaiting palm, exhausted fingers digging into his sweaty hair. The engineer let out a long exhale that encompassed all the turmoil he witnessed in the last five hours.

Everything that could be done was done. The med bay was charred and unrecognizable, same with the vents. The entire barracks was scoured as well. Every single settler was scanned, and anyone in contact with the infected was scrubbed completely. New protocols for body inspections of anyone entering and leaving the settlement were in place. Everyone's equipment now included a hand-held purifier, too. Harrison went through with severing Max from the hunter when the machine calmed down and released its 'mesh connectors,' which only happened when the flesh was charred and cold.

And now, the final task was done. Vodny had gone to sleep a few minutes ago, left with Akula and chef to keep her company for the night. It was admirable that the overseer offered her bed in a heartbeat. Maybe having another pair around would depress the fisherwoman, maybe it would help. What mattered right now was that she wasn't alone for the night. He couldn't imagine what was going through her mind after everything.

The Malkrin seldom committed suicide, as evidenced by their immense aversion to the idea as a whole, and Harrison didn't think Vodny was suicidal per se. It was just that she should be looked out for, is all. He couldn't lose four.

One was already too much. A singular injury was too much.

But, three? Three. His stomach dropped at the reminder.

With idle hands, he had nothing to distract himself with. And, under the weight of exhaustion, it all slipped into his mind again with a cold shiver. That split second when he rounded the corner and looked through the shattered wall was branded into his mind.

Metal into flesh, Vodny growling, and the pungent, sickening scent of blood.

It was a blur, but those images would never leave him. He watched three corpses burn as the fourth wailed. Her hollers rang into his ears, but there was nothing he could do about them. Nothing he could do for her. It took entire chunks from his psyche as he desperately tried to patch the holes in the settlement.

Every second he spent terrified over how that thing got into the med bay was lined with a suffocating guilt. Every step he took to protect the future settlers was held back by how reactive it felt. He wanted to be empathetic and offer the sole twin comfort and time, but it felt so… disingenuous.

It all led back to him. Back in the underground launch facility, he just patched Medics wounds. He didn't bother to look into it.

He didn't know.

How was he meant to know? It was just another monster to be burned! Harrison clenched his head tighter.

But he should have known. He was so lost in the emptiness of the lost colony, he gave no attention to the lingering threat. All the pieces were in place for him to realize by the time he made it back to the settlement. The exterminator's 'infestation,' the imitation of dead pioneers, the agricultural center. Everything was there for him. Yet, he just couldn't put it together.

And where did that leave him? It left him with the image burned in his mind: three of his people warped and tainted into a pulsing nightmare.

There was no better word. It was a nightmare. Everything about this planet was a fucking nightmare.

And he somehow let himself get comfortable time and time ag—

"There you are!" A familiar yet worried voice called out from his side.

He took his head out of his hand and glanced over, watching Tracy jog across the wall toward him in her favorite, oversized sweatshirt. Orange and white lights from the settlement lit up the underside of her distraught expression, the overall dimness barely outlining her tiny frame in the dark night. Her trot slowed to a halt when she made it to his side.

"So… this is where you went? Shar's worried sick about you, ya know," the technician stated calmly. She glanced over the parapet and hummed sadly, eventually joining him in resting on it.

Her soft clothes were warm in contrast to the cold sea breeze. He subtly relaxed into her, taking any reason to cut his thoughts off.

"Long night, huh?" she prodded quietly.

A fleeting sense of dark humor had him chuff through the nose, but his half-chuckle fell into a frown with a short sigh. "Understatement of the century."

His love leaned forward to stare into his eyes, her brows tented gently in worry. "You good?"

He was tempted to deflect the question, while another part of him felt that she should notice his exhaustion and make her own conclusions, but that was rude. She deserved honesty. "No… No, I'm really not."

She frowned, pressing herself a little closer before reading him perfectly. "No one could have predicted this. You can't put it on yourself."

The engineer shut his eyes and failed to stop the spear of guilt from piercing right through his ribs. "All the pieces were there, Trace. I should have known."

"Dude…" she grumbled, fully turning to rest her side on the wall and stare directly into him. Her eyes reflected the settlement's lights, glistening with unripe tears. "You always get like this. You're always blaming yourself for things—"

"Things that I COULD have prevented!" he hissed back in a flash of anger. "If I paid attention for a damn second instead of worrying about my own fears, we—"

She roughly grabbed his neck and collar, eagerly pulling him into her lips for a long second. Her hands remained in place as she pulled away. "Shut up. Just… shut up and listen to me. Do you seriously think I don't have those same thoughts? Fuck, when you mentioned Medic got cut up by some fleshy thing, I should've connected it too. Now everything's… fucked. I'm pissing-my-fucking-pants terrified. People are grieving. The new guys are in shock—"

Harrison stifled a flinch at the reminders.

"—but you can't put it all on your shoulders. This place is fundamentally as fucked as an inmate with slippery hands. All we can do is learn and improve. It feels like shit to say that, but we can't ruminate on our mistakes when we have to learn from them… damn, I sound like my dad… You can't predict everything. We'll honor the lost, and we'll make sure we won't lose any more to that fucking thing."

He shook his head, exhaling. "I know we have to learn, but… I promised them. I promised them not one death." He tenderly held onto Tracy's arm. "I knew it was unrealistic. But, it hurts, Trace. I really thought we were getting somewhere. These walls, our defenses, the sheer amount of colonists we have under our wing."

Harrison grimaced. "There's no way around it: I failed them. I failed the settlement. It doesn't matter if we learn or improve. They're fucking dead. The last I saw of them, they were masses of pulsing flesh. You saw them too. Seeing O'hara and Trey as meat must have been a nightmare, but I was talking with the fisherwomen twins just last night. They were so happy to have their own room and… and they thanked me over and over again for it."

He pulled Tracy into an embrace, drawing in a shaky breath as he desperately blinked away the water pooling in his eyes. "I knew my promise was unrealistic, but I wanted to believe it could be true. That I could protect them all. I… I never wanted to see any of them go."

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The tiny woman reciprocated his squeeze, nuzzling her head into his chest. The familiar scent of her lemon shampoo cut into his pain, her warmth and supple frame comforting his aching sores.

"No one did," Tracy mumbled into his rig. "You can't be perfect, man. You can't do everything. You can't save everyone."

"I know," he whispered back, resting his chin into her silken hair. "I just wasn't expecting it to be so soon."

The two of them softly rocked side to side as the night seeped into them. He didn't know how long they embraced each other for. It could've been half an hour, for all he knew. Why would he let go? This fleeting reprieve of comfort was held in his arms like lightning in a bottle, its value immeasurable.

But Tracy squeezed.

Harrison raised a brow, worried he might've been holding her too tight. "What?"

Her muffled voice came out flatly. "You smell like sweat and industrial sterilizer."

He paused, absolutely bewildered by the statement. Yet, that sudden, almost out of nowhere statement, cracked his lips into a smile. The sheer unexpected nature pushed an inexplicable chuckle out of him.

The adorable technician shook with her own laughter, continuing as he pushed her shoulders an arm's-distance away. He stared at her incredulously, mirroring her stupid grin. "Oh fuck you."

"Not until you've cleaned up," she shot back, squinting playfully.

Harrison stared up at the black, overcast sky and groaned. "Oh my God."

She reached out and tenderly cupped his cheek, gently easing him to look down at her as her giggles died down. "Seriously though, you should go take a bath or something. Get washed up and relax for a little while. I think it would do you good."

He scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze with a dumb smile still plastered on his face. "Fair enough. I was planning on showering sometime soon."

Her brows furrowed immediately as her knife of a finger poked right into his collar, jabbing him with each emphasized word. "No, mister, you are taking a bath, and you are going to relax. Then, you're coming back to bed with me, and we're going to cuddle with Shar-Shar until the morning. Capeesh?"

Harrison mimicked a sloppy salute. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

"Good soldier." She pulled him down into another kiss, holding it a little longer before separating.

Her hand roamed the fur coat over his shoulders and down his arms, not-so-subtly objectifying him with a few squeezes of his biceps and forearms before latching onto his wrist. She took them as a lead and tugged him away from the parapets, pulling him along the walls. The little grin she gave him as she looked back melted his heart and broke the non-existent resistance he had left in him.

Her hair softly flowed in the wind, the silken strands catching the settlement's light in the most gorgeous ways, perfectly outlining the adorable joy she exuded. Every confident step she took seemed to weaken his knees as he followed. She so effortlessly took away the pain, letting him truly breathe for the first time in hours.

She had such a way with his heart just by being herself, and by God, did he love her for it.

- - - - -

Harrison dipped his foot into the large bath, feeling the heat flow up his leg as he stepped in. Steam covered the already frosted glass, further blurring the area in its embrace. It might've been a bit much if he hadn't just taken a lukewarm shower to wash off the remaining soot, but the clinging humidity and hot, draining embrace of the water felt divine at that moment.

A fresh pair of clothes and a towel were nicely folded on the lip of the basin, right beside the door. He grabbed the thick white bundle of cloth and forded the waist-deep heaven toward a spot he was eying up.

The cast of the bath was designed with several different seating arrangements, one of which was specifically shaped with a wider seating area, allowing someone to slouch into it, submerging themselves up to the neck without fully lying down. He placed his towel by the ledge and puffed it up like a pillow before slowly letting himself down with a bit of difficulty, the self-prescribed swig of rum making the motion a little faint on his eyes.

A few joints popped, and his strained muscles cried for a split second, but completely melted once they entered the big soup, splaying his body along the smooth tile-like surface. Each strand of sinew in his tight limbs seemed to separate further with every inch he submerged, finally coming to a satisfying stop as his head pressed into the makeshift cushion.

He let go of a long, drawn-out sigh, relaxing in the heated abyss. His mind slowly drifted behind closed eyes, wandering toward painful memories before he forcibly wrangled it elsewhere. Being in the barracks didn't help either, even if the med bay had been flushed out several times over and blocked…

He still felt a cold shiver and the pang of guilt, no matter what he did. Medic, his apprentice, Morskoy, Vodny, and even the exterminator kept leaking into his thoughts until he found stability thinking about the settlement's future.

It wasn't exactly a respite, but it was something his brain was content with. Piecing together the week's agenda, who he needed to talk to, and what he personally had to do was a form of meditation to him. It was the kind of organization he liked, comparable to sorting things into their respective storage places.

Constructing a church and offering a place for worship were suddenly at the top of his list for things to do. Not just as a place for 'Tridei' worship, which was sorely needed, especially with Father Monbishoppe, but also for a cemetery. The Land Malkrin didn't bury their dead, instead burning them so the smoke went to the mountain's peak as their 'ascension of the Mountain.' To remember their lost, they placed, usually uncut, boulders with scripts defining their character alongside small tallies for their loved ones to leave, representing that someone was there for them and that they were missed. Often, older boulders were scraped beyond recognition with how many marks they had.

Harrison wanted to abide by their customs wholly. If he couldn't fulfill his promises, he could at least do that. Of course, that was the minimum, the absolute least he could do for the people's well-being. There should always be more.

He had a few sources of information acting as pipelines for the people's unspoken needs to get to him, namely Cera, the script-keeper, and now the priest. He only knew a handful of Malkrin who'd talk to him directly about their wants, though he wished more of them would understand he wouldn't judge them for it.

Tomorrow, of all times, would be a good opportunity to ask the data collectors about what the settlers need and act on the people's wishes. Talking, planning, and implementing weren't exactly one-day operations, but he could definitely knock the first part out tomorrow. He'd need to look at their schedules, discuss material allocation, and—

'Creeak.'

The door audibly opened, followed by a swift 'tonk' of its closure. Fabric fell onto the ground with a 'fwumph' before the water was disturbed by a hesitant 'plip.'

Harrison slowly opened his eyes into a squint, the entire complex of his body lagging behind by several seconds in the relaxing heat. He blinked away a buildup of moisture over his lids, his blurry vision making out a figure by the entrance.

A figure. In the bath. With him… Hmm, yeah, it's nice in here, can't blame 'em.

His brain played pong for a solid five seconds before the computer finally booted.

Wait.

A figure in the bath with him while he was in his birthday suit. He sat up in a flash, his eyes shooting wide open as he protected his dignity with a forearm.

Pale skin, supple legs, entrancing curves, and a bust that—"Oh, hi Tracy."

His racing heart relaxed briefly as he looked the beautiful, black-haired girl up and down. She held an arm over her breasts and another down lower, though she quickly dipped her body into the bath, the refraction of water and steam obscuring anything below her naval.

Her face was beet red, eyes staring right back at him. She spoke up, obviously trying to conceal a hesitant nervousness in her voice. "S-Sup dork."

The simple sight of her stowed away that motley mix of guilt, fear, and frustration forming the tightness in his chest.

He smirked and raised his brows. It's not like this was the first time he saw her mostly undressed. She loved to use the showers at the same time as him, sometimes walking past when he was getting dressed on the bench… Hey, wait a minute, did she do that on purpose…? He knew he saw her catching glances through the curtains!

"Don't stare at me all smugly!" his girlfriend—mate? Lover? His adorably anxious bathroom stalker chastised, turning her body away. "I-If you're gonna do that, at least say something nice!"

"You're really pretty when you blush," Harrison complimented casually.

"Not like that! Well, actually…" Her cheeks swelled up into a somehow redder hue, stretching his smile beyond its human limits. She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye, her voice returning a little mousier. "You think so?"

He rested an arm on the bath's backrest, chuckling. "Wouldn't say it otherwise. I think it contrasts nicely with your beautiful eyes and silky hair. Plus, seventy percent of the time, it means I've successfully teased you."

"Like right now," Tracy grumbled.

"Like right now," he joked. "Now, are you going to stand there and fish for the trillion other compliments I have for your perfect skin or lovely toned midriff, or are you going to take this prime real estate right here?"

He slapped the white tile beside himself as he sweetened the offer with a sing-song voice. "I'll throw in a full-body massaaaage. Free for hot, black-haired women."

She meekly squeezed in on herself, her brain a little fried in his flattery. "S-Shut up."

He knew damn well she didn't mean it, egging her on. "Make me."

That one got her. She pouted and stormed through the water, making a bunch of waves on her way to his offered seat. God, he loved the freedom of actually being able to express his love, and he especially loved poking all the funny Tracy buttons like this.

The technician parked her butt right next to him and nestled into his awaiting arm. Soft yet moist skin rubbed against his, stirring an excitement in him. Yet, she was still a little stiff as she continued to cover herself. He tenderly grasped her shoulder, showing his appreciation of her presence by kneading the stressed muscles within, moving his fingers here and there for a little while.

She relaxed into him a little more, letting out a soft sigh as she slouched somewhat. "Mmm… You're good at that."

He shrugged, adjusting the forearm he used to protect his dignity to suit said dignity's new… arrangement at the sight of his naked, bathroom-stalking girlfriend. "I promised a massage. Plus, you look tense."

She drew in a breath, her mouth open as she was about to say something, but… she didn't. She glanced down at her chest, making a complicated expression with a frown. The arm she used to cover her upper half shook with the slightest strain.

"I'm not asking you to do anything you don't wanna," he assured, squeezing her.

A second passed by before she shook her head, the mass of unrestrained hair falling down to cover her face. She mumbled her response. "No, I'm… You… don't actually think my skin is perfect, right?"

Her response slapped him in the face, actually drawing a small bit of anger out of him. Less so at her, but rather the self-destructive words. "What? Why the hell would I lie about that?"

She averted her gaze further. "The gross stretch marks and freckles everywhere and weird paleness and… I… I don't know. It's just… I can't explain it. I wanted to… help you by uhm, taking your mind off of things. B-But it's been years since I've… actually shown someone myself. Colony training was the first time I had to cut my hair and be fully clean… and actually be in a swimsuit, and… Y-You're like, actually attractive, so I—"

"Shut up," Harrison ordered. He pushed back the hair over her face and craned her head up until he could press his lips to hers, making good on his words. Her eyes went wide before her body gave in and softly pushed back into his affection.

Her hair had become a lot messier when he pulled away a few seconds later, her gaze lost in his, desperately missing the sudden intimacy.

He frowned. "Trace, have you ever even looked in a mirror? Honestly."

All she had to respond with was a flush over her nose and cheeks, genuinely looking like a deer in headlights.

"I told you, it was really difficult to not fall in love with you. You know damn well I adore your personality and how you take me away from the worst of this planet by just being there, but you seem to ignore how hard it is for me to take my eyes off of you… How you take my breath away with a simple smile. I'm not quite sure where your anxiety is coming from all of a sudden, but if it's about your body, I'd have to say you're insane. Again, have you looked in the mirror before?"

He let his hand fall down to cup her cheek, his thumb making soft circles over her smooth, heated skin. "You have to know colony training had a hell of an effect, right? Toned muscles, sharp form, wide hips… all in a small frame and perfectly entwined with enough thickness to make it hard for me not to stare. Yet, you try and focus on the little cute things like they're heinous sins? The stretch marks that prove you worked to get your figure? The adorable freckles that make my heart skip a beat? Come on!

"You knew what you were doing when you bent over my desk to 'grab' your data pad you purposefully left on the other side. What about when you had to 'look' for your stuff in the bottom locker section of the bunk room? We don't even put things at the bottom! You like your body! Admit it, you know what you have!"

"Alright, alright, I give up! You can see my tits, dude!" She raised her one hand up defensively, still covering herself by her wrist, the subtle squeeze outlining how pliable underneath she was.

"No. Admit it."

"A-Admit what?" Tracy tried to look away, but kept glancing at him with wide, loving eyes.

"That you're good-looking. Say it."

She let out a low, nervous, and drawn-out whine.

"Say. It. You're hot."

Her smile kept growing, no matter how much she tried to play it off. A quick peck from him had her trying to bat her fingers at him in vain. "Okay! Okay! I give up! I'm attractive! I'm super pretty and completely out of your league, and you should massage me! "

"Fucking finally," he cheered through a laugh, nuzzling into his giggling supermodel's hair.

Tracy huffed, slowly sliding her arm away and letting it fall into the water. But Harrison couldn't look away from her adorably embarrassed yet genuinely appreciative grin beaming right back up at him.

She was hot; there was no doubt about it. And somehow, despite the growing heat of the room, it was her almost innocent and pure reactions to his uncovered love that made his heart race. Her background, how she spent the last few years… This ball of unbridled fun and dorkish love had gone uncherished for too long. It was a crime.

"So… The massage you promised?" she meekly requested, not-so-subtly rubbing her side into him.

"Of course," he affirmed sweetly, giving her another kiss.

The technician squeaked as he pulled her smooth back into his awaiting chest, crossing her body over his torso and offering his shoulder as a pillow. He slowly slumped back into his original position, from before she entered, bringing her down with him. Her wet hair sprawled and floated along the water's surface, slowly sinking one lock at a time.

Here, through the thin, black strands, everything was in view, poisoning his well-meaning intentions with desire, a need he had repressed for God-knows how long. All five feet and two inches of tender curves and slippery skin awaited his suddenly pining hands. Well, she still held a hand between her clenched thighs, holding onto the last bastion of her insecurity.

Another challenger he could deal with in time. In fact, the more he looked at the tantalizing squish that encased her small arm, the more another story revealed itself: she shaved… recently.

A knowing smirk crawled its way along his lips, causing her to squeeze her legs further together. "S-Stop staring, fucker! I asked for a massage, not an eye-glazing."

He glanced back at her, catching the red-faced woman trying to look anywhere else. His grin grew wider with a mischievous edge. No wonder she was so insistent on him taking a bath. If she wanted to play puppet master, he would enjoy teasing her.

At least, until she got what she wanted.

He started out calmly, covering up his intentions by placing both of his hands in 'safe' places—kneading her forearm and softly rubbing circles on her shoulder. It placated the relaxing girl nicely, but did nothing for the aching impulses jumping at his increasingly foggy senses. The bath's heat put a certain heaviness to his breath, and Tracy's furnace skin only added to the fire in more ways than one.

Those small ministrations from his hands pushed and prodded her closer to him, inches of her entrancing body meshing into his. The sheer amount of shared surface area further stimulated his heated inclinations.

He struggled to keep his hands in place.

Tracy let out a long exhale as he squeezed out the tenseness in her neck muscles, leaning her head over to leave a wet kiss on his neck. He seized the opportunity and transferred a roaming hand onto her midriff, pushing the heel of his arm all along her stomach, slowly caressing her until he could grip the thick of her hips.

She sucked in another breath, drawing in cool air along his throat. Her free hand gripped his shoulder tightly, her clasping fingers leaking a sudden thirst into him. Her excitement pushed him to massage the entire length of her side.

Eager grips coaxed soft squeaks out of the black-haired beauty. Prodding presses into her thickened thighs made her squirm in barely-withheld desire the closer his fingers dragged to her legs' interior. There was so much to squeeze, so much to hold… so much to admire and worship with his hands.

Five fingers weren't enough.

He slid his other arm down from her shoulder, drawing soft pads over her collarbone and down into the sea of smooth skin that took the last of his composure. She stifled a satisfied hum with another passionate smooch to his neck, but she never let go. Her lips latched onto him, impulsively letting her tongue drag across the muscle underneath.

Her breath hitched when he cupped a breast, gently massaging it with long, slow gropes. Each cycle of her soft, yearning groans became less and less muffled with each inch of her thighs he explored. He brushed through the interior, just above her knees, and her legs relaxed and slowly splayed along the bath's bench.

The hand she held over herself for 'decency' was all but decoration at that point. Every time he ran his palm over her waistline, her hips bucked as if expecting his fingers to slide through that final gap and give her exactly what every single part of her body screamed for.

He would have loved nothing more than to hear her moan into the steamy bath, to drive her to the edges of lust, to turn her brain into mush while she panted like she'd never breathed before. Each flex of her abs in anticipation stoked the flames between them ever further.

His fill of teasing her had gone and overflowed far beyond what he wanted. What he needed was to make it impossible for her to even walk out of the bath when he was done.

But, she had other plans, sliding her hand off of his shoulder. Her coquettish voice barely made it through her breaths. "I… mmm… told you… I wanted… to ease your… haah… stress."

A tiny palm pressed into his abs, greedy fingers groping and feeling everything they could. She continued to explore him as he had her, every chain holding her back completely shattered into a fine mist. Her voracity was ravenous. She felt up his sides, squeezed any semblance of muscle she found attractive, and—

Lightning shot through his loins. A singular, fleeting brush against his length forced a grunt out of him.

Tracy's eyes sharpened, a singular chuckle leaving her with a teasing lilt… He hardly had the faintest idea what expression was on his face, but by the way he clenched his teeth in sheer need, the largest grin grew across her face.

Every aspect of her expression, from her determined brows to her foggy, lust-drunk eyes, exuded pure desire. She was eager. Hungry. Impatient.

Her hand slid right down his hip, gripping his thigh just close enough to the center of his libido to force an instinctive exhale out of him. Years of patience tied with weeks of repressed impulses sent a fire through his veins.

He squeezed the interior of her thigh, sliding his palm closer… closer and closer still, until the heat of the water itself changed from her carnal wishes. Her heavy breaths came to a crescendo, pulling her arm from between her thighs to grab his neck and ascend into him again. Her tongue lapped at the built-up moisture, leaving her saliva in its place as she was determined to taste every square inch.

As if to challenge him, she slowly massaged the inches of skin she held down below, stretching her fingers out a little further each time. Every connection between her wandering touch was electric. He continued to massage her breasts all the while, determined not to let her go unmatched. His other hand slid where hers had been just a second ago, crossing the curve of her thigh gap.

Harrison traced his fingers between the crease of her thick legs and wide hips, urging her desperate kisses along his neck into chaotic laps and sucks. He trailed the unnaturally smooth length of shaven yet immensely supple skin, feeling the very water around his digits thicken.

Tracy returned his lust, reaching her hand across his bush. Her callused palm ignited his loins with a simple grip. The smallest pressure wholly outlined how hard he was. His length pulsed in her grip, hips bucking as—

'SLAM'

"DEARESTS? Oh, Goddess of the Winds, there you are!" Sharky shouted with a cry, stomping through the bath in her casual clothes and sending waves of hot water over the basin's edge with each stride.

Tracy squeaked and turned her body toward him to save her modesty, while he just froze.

What.

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