Chapter 5: Steam and Submission
The transition from the cool night air to the steam-filled bathroom was like slipping into another world. The door clicked shut, muffling the city's hum, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the drip of water from the terrace. Damon’s penthouse was a series of sanctuaries, and this was the most intimate.
“Still with us, songbird?” Damon’s voice was low, his hand resting on the small of Evie’s back, guiding her toward the vast rain shower.
Liam ran a hand through his hair, the blonde strands escaping his bun. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
“Good.” Damon turned the shower on, and a cascade of water hissed against the glass and marble. Steam began to billow, carrying the scent of sandalwood and bergamot from the expensive products lined up on the niche. He didn’t look at Liam as he spoke next. “You can process on your knees later. For now, get in. Both of you.”
Evie stepped under the spray first, gasping as the hot water hit her skin, washing away the lingering chill and the ghost of the silk ropes. She tilted her head back, letting it sluice through her red hair, plastering it to her shoulders and back. The water darkened the ink of her tattoos, making the colors seem to swim.
Liam followed, more hesitant, his lean frame seeming to occupy the space differently than Damon’s solid presence. The steam curled around them, softening edges, blurring lines.
Damon remained outside the shower for a moment, a silhouette through the fogged glass, watching them. He was still wearing his trousers, now dark with water spots from the terrace. He was always watching, always calculating. Evie met his gaze through the mist, a challenge and an invitation in her green eyes.
Then he was moving, sliding the glass door open and stepping inside. The space, which had felt large, suddenly shrank. Water darkened his dark hair to jet and streamed over the hard planes of his chest. He reached for a bottle of shampoo.
“Turn around, Evie.”
She complied, presenting her back to him. His fingers, strong and sure, worked the product into her scalp, massaging with a firm, practiced pressure that made her sigh and lean into him. It was tender, domestic almost, but the current running beneath it was anything but. This was still part of the reclamation.
He rinsed her hair, his hands guiding the water away from her face. Then his touch changed. His hands slid from her hair down her shoulders, along her arms, then back up to grip her hips. He turned her abruptly, pressing her back against the cool, wet glass of the shower wall.
The contrast of the hot water on her front and the chill at her back made her gasp. His body caged her in, water streaming between them.
“Liam.” Damon’s voice was a command that cut through the steam.
Liam, who had been watching with a rapt, hungry expression, flinched slightly at the sound of his name.
“Come here.”
Liam moved forward, the water sluicing over his shoulders. The question in his blue eyes was answered by the unyielding set of Damon’s jaw.
“On your knees,” Damon said, his voice leaving no room for debate.
A complex series of emotions flashed across Liam’s face—submission, desire, a flicker of that same shame from the terrace, now being given a purpose. He slowly sank to the wet marble floor, his knees making a soft sound against the stone. He looked up at Evie, pinned between the glass and Damon, her breath coming in quick, visible puffs in the steam-filled air.
Damon’s hand cupped the side of Evie’s face, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Look at him,” he instructed her, his voice a low rumble near her ear. “He needs to remember his place. He needs to serve.”
He shifted his grip on her hips, lifting her slightly, adjusting her stance against the glass. Evie’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo in the enclosed space. She looked down at Liam, at the water dripping from his hair and lashes, at the absolute devotion in his upturned face.
“Go on,” Damon murmured, his words for both of them.
Liam didn’t need another command. He leaned forward, his hands resting on her thighs, and pressed his mouth to her. The sensation was electric, a sharp, stunning contrast to the hot water and the cool glass. Evie’s head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, a moan tearing from her throat. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the slick glass behind her.
Damon held her steady, a pillar of immovable strength. He watched the scene unfold, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity. He lowered his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, biting down just enough to make her cry out, the sound swallowed by the drumming water.
The world narrowed to the points of contact: Liam’s worshipful mouth, Damon’s bruising grip on her hips and the sharp claim of his teeth on her skin, the relentless spray of the shower. It was too much. It was everything. She was the center of their universe, the focal point of their fractured dynamic being violently, beautifully welded back together.
Her climax crashed over her with a sudden, shocking force, wracking her body with tremors. A broken, wordless sound was all she could manage.
As the waves receded, she became aware of Damon’s voice, low and steady, speaking to Liam. “Good. Now get up.”
Liam rose unsteadily, his knees slick and wet. His eyes were glazed, his breath coming as ragged as hers. Damon released his hold on Evie, catching her as her legs threatened to buckle. He supported her weight easily, one arm around her waist.
He looked at Liam, who stood waiting, water streaming down his chest. Damon reached out and cupped the back of Liam’s neck, pulling him close until their foreheads were almost touching. The gesture was unexpectedly intimate, a stark contrast to the controlled dominance of moments before.
“We’re clear?” Damon asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Liam swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We’re clear.”
“Then stop looking so wrecked. It’s unattractive.” Damon released him, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. “Now, one of you pass me the damn body wash. This feels like we’re being steamed alive.”
The sudden shift to the mundane was jarring and perfect. A weak laugh bubbled out of Evie. Liam blinked, then let out a shaky chuckle of his own, grabbing the bottle and handing it over. The tension broke, leaving behind a raw, clean exhaustion. The heat, the water, the scent of soap—it was just a shower now. But the marks they had left on each other, deeper than any the silk ropes could have made, remained.