Steam was already beginning to build up in the bathroom when Strax pushed the door open and entered slowly, the steady sound of water filling the space with a continuous, almost hypnotic murmur. The room was warm, the walls slightly fogged, and the soft scent of soap mixed with something more subtle—perhaps her own perfume—made everything feel closer, more intimate than anywhere else that night.

Ouroboros stood with her back to the entrance, under the flowing water, her dark hair falling heavily as she ran her fingers through it, slowly dispelling any trace of dirt or accumulated tension. Her movements were calm, but not completely relaxed—there was a subtle stiffness there, something that hadn’t yet dissipated since what had happened earlier.

She didn’t turn around immediately.

But she wasn’t surprised either.

"I expected this," she said, her voice low, almost neutral, but with a slight trace of weariness mixed in, as if she didn’t have the energy to react any other way. Her eyes darted just enough to confirm his presence by the diffuse reflection on the wet tile, without actually looking at him.

There was a brief pause before she continued, still washing her hair, her fingers moving automatically, almost mechanically.

"But... I’m not in the mood," she added, without aggression, simply making her state clear, like someone setting a boundary without needing to reinforce it.

Strax didn’t respond immediately.

He closed the door behind him calmly, the sound muffled by the running water, and walked a few steps into the bathroom, unhurried, without abruptly invading her space. His gaze did pass over her, yes, but not with urgency or impulsive desire—there was something more controlled there, more conscious.

"I know," she finally replied, her voice calm, without pressure, as she began to undress herself with simple, almost casual movements. "I didn’t come for that."

He set aside the pieces naturally, without theatrics, and moved closer just enough to also be underwater, maintaining a respectful distance, as if the space between them was as important as the proximity.

"The water was nice," he added, with a slight hint of restrained humor, as if trying to soften the atmosphere without forcing anything.

Ouroboros let out a small sound through her nose, something between a sigh and an almost-laugh, still not looking directly at him.

Ouroboros remained under the flow of the water, her shoulders still tense, but Strax’s touch was deliberate, patient. He picked up the soap and began to run his soapy hands over her breasts, his fingers gliding with firm but gentle pressure, exploring every curve, every involuntary response of her skin. She took a deep breath, her eyes closing for a moment, a slight tremor running through her body.

"Strax..." she murmured, her voice lower now, less neutral.

He didn’t respond with words, just continued, his hands slowly sliding down her stomach until they found the damp softness between her legs. With his soapy palms, he began to massage her vulva in firm, but unhurried, circular motions. Ouroboros let out a low, deep moan, her hands gripping the shower wall lightly. The water trickled down them both, mixing with the soap and the growing heat.

"You said you weren’t in the mood," he reminded her, his voice a whisper close to her ear, as his fingers found her clitoris, pressing precisely. "But your body... seems to have other ideas."

She moaned again, louder this time, her head falling back against his chest. The stiffness in her shoulders began to loosen, replaced by a wave of pleasure that made her arch her back slightly. "This... isn’t fair," she replied, breathless, but with no resistance left in her voice.

Strax smiled, just a hint of expression, as he continued to work with his hands, his fingers sliding inside her now, deep and slow. "Justice was never the point," he murmured. "Only you. Only now."

The sound of the water continued to fall, steady, but now it was merely a backdrop to Ouroboros’s panting breath. Strax’s fingers moved inside her with a slow, deep cadence, each entry and exit a deliberate act of intimacy. He felt every contraction, every tremor that ran through her body, and adjusted the pace according to her response—faster when she leaned into his touch, slower when she seemed to want to prolong the sensation.

"You’re so wet," he whispered, his lips brushing the side of her neck. "Even when you say you don’t want to."

She didn’t answer, only moaned again, her hands gripping the tiles tighter. The pleasure was building, a sweet, familiar tension beginning to take hold of her. But then, Strax stopped.

Ouroboros let out a low, almost jaw-clapping protest, but he was already grabbing more soap. His soapy hands moved down again, but this time past her vulva, going lower until they found the tight entrance to her anus.

"Strax..." she said, her voice a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice calm but firm. With one hand, he continued to gently caress her vulva, maintaining the stimulation while with the other he began to massage her perineum, then the muscular ring itself. The touch was meticulous, patient—he applied the soap in circular motions, carefully lubricating the area before beginning to press lightly with his fingertip.

Ouroboros took a deep breath, her body tensing for a moment before gradually yielding. "Slowly," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

"No rush," he agreed, his finger sliding in just enough to feel the initial resistance, then withdrawing, then entering again a little further. It was a hypnotic movement, a slow exploration that made her let out a long moan, mixed with something that felt like relief.

He continued like this, washing her with almost reverent attention, alternating between stimulating her vulva and gently penetrating her anus, until her whole body trembled beneath his hands. The water washed away the soap, but the sensation remained—a cleansing that was also a possession, an intimacy that went beyond the physical.

"Is it good?" he asked, his voice softer now.

She simply nodded, unable to form words, her face buried against his chest.

Ouroboros’s body was now completely malleable under Strax’s hands, every muscle relaxed, each sigh deeper than the last. He continued his slow, meticulous ritual, his fingers exploring every fold, every curve with a patience bordering on devotion. The warm water ran down her back, but the heat that truly mattered came from within—that slow, growing flame he fueled with each touch.

He began to vary his movements, sometimes using two fingers to gently penetrate her vagina while his thumb massaged her clitoris, other times focusing all his attention on her anus, penetrating and withdrawing with a hypnotic cadence. Ouroboros began to writhe, not to escape, but to seek more—her hips began to move in sync with his fingers, an instinctive and urgent rhythm.

"Strax..." she moaned, her voice hoarse and laden with a need that could no longer be contained. "Please..."

He slowed down again, his fingers withdrawing almost completely, leaving her suspended on the edge of ecstasy. "Please, what?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

She let out a frustrated sound, her hands gripping his arms tightly. "Don’t play games... not now..."

He smiled, a smile she couldn’t see, but could feel in the way his body pressed against hers. His fingers returned, firmer this time, penetrating her deeply in both orifices simultaneously. Ouroboros cried out, a muffled sound against his chest, her body arching violently.

The tension in her was palpable, a rope stretched to its limit. He could feel her inner muscles contracting desperately around his fingers, her heart pounding against his ribs. He increased the speed, the movements becoming more decisive, more merciless.

That’s when she finally broke.

"Just do it!" She screamed, her voice a mixture of pleading and command, hoarse from panting breath. "Any hole... just shove it in, damn it!"

Strax paused for a second, his fingers still inside her. He gently turned her to face him, his wet hands cupping her face. His eyes were dark, dilated, filled with a hunger that mirrored hers.

"Any hole?" he repeated, his voice low but laden with intent.

She simply nodded frantically, her hands sliding down to grip his buttocks, pulling him against her. "Yes... any... just don’t stop..."

He needed no further encouragement. In one fluid movement, he lifted her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. With one hand guiding himself and the other supporting her back against the cold shower wall, he aligned himself and thrust into her deeply in a single, vigorous movement.

The cry that escaped her was muffled by his kiss—wild, desperate, full of the same urgency that consumed them both. He began to move inside her with a primal force, each thrust an affirmation, each withdrawal a promise of return.

The water continued to fall on them, mingling with sweat, moans, the intense smell of sex and soap. Ouroboros scratched her back, her teeth sinking into his shoulder, every part of her enveloping every part of him in a fierce, total embrace.

"Harder," she growled between moans. "Don’t stop... never stop..."