the water is hot enough to sting, steam rolling off the tiles in thick waves, but none of it matters—not when simon crowds into the tiny shower stall behind you like he’s trying to fit a tank inside a broom closet.
his hands find your waist before the water even hits him, big and greedy, pulling you back into the heat of his body. you gasp when his chest presses against your spine—slick, burning, solid in a way that makes you feel small and helpless and wanted all at once.
the glass fogs instantly.
so does your brain.
“look at you,” he mutters against the back of your neck, his voice low enough that it vibrates through your entire body. “already trembling.”
you are. you can’t help it—not with the way his cock slides between your thighs from behind, heavy and wet, dragging through your slick under the spray of the water. your knees nearly buckle when his head brushes your clit on its way past.
he laughs—broken, breathless—like he wasn’t expecting you to react.
“sweetheart…” his mouth finds your shoulder, teeth grazing, voice all gravel and hunger. “i’ve barely fuckin’ touched you.”
he grabs your hips and bends you forward just enough that your palms slap the tile, water pounding down your back. your breath fogs the wall. the heat makes you dizzy.
then he’s guiding himself lower, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance in a way that knocks the air right out of your lungs.
no gentleness. no hesitation.
just pressure—deep, slow, overwhelming.
you choke on a gasp when he pushes into you, the stretch brutal and perfect, your body tightening around him instinctively. the water does nothing to hide the slick sound of him splitting you open.
his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
“fuck…” he mumbles, voice cracking into something ruined. “you feel that? feel how tight you’re clenching around me?”
you can’t answer—not when he drags out halfway and slams back in with a wet, echoing sound that ricochets off the tile. your hand slips off the wall but he catches your wrist before you can fall. pinning it above your head like holding you up is nothing for someone built like him.
his chest crushes against your back, his breath shaking against your ear.
“that’s my girl,” he growls, pounding into you harder, the water splashing between the two of you with every thrust. “take it—take all of it.”
your moans are drowned by the water, swallowed by the heat and the steam, but he hears then anyway—feels them, the way your body squeezes around him.
he fucks you deeper. harder.
the kind of rhythm you can’t brace against, the kind that forces broken little sounds out of your mouth every time he bottoms out.
the tile is cold beneath your cheek, his body scorching against your back and the water is just a blur around you as he groans into your skin.
“fuck baby…you’re gonna make me come so hard.”
his thrusts get sloppy, desperate, hips snapping forward like he can’t stop himself anymore.
your body tightens around him, heat building low and fast, and he feels it—of course he feels it—because he swears, loud and raw and slams you back onto his cock with a bruising grip.
“yeah—fuck—there she is,” he pants. “come for me. right now.”
your release hits so hard it knocks your breath out entirely—your body clenching around him, shaking under the water, your moans spilling into the steam.
he breaks right after you, burying himself deep with a guttural noise, his cock throbbing, grip locking your hips in place as he comes inside you, hot and heavy and overwhelming.
the water keeps running.
the tiles stay fogged.
but he doesn’t let go—just breathes against your shoulder like he’s trying to steady himself.
“jesus,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “look what you do to me.”
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