It started as a flicker. A warm pulse low in the belly, barely noticeable. Then another, stronger, like a string plucked somewhere deep.

Y/n’s eyes flew open.

The sensation didn’t stop. It swelled—a slick, sudden pressure, impossibly precise, curling inside like fingers testing a lock. Y/n gasped, hand flying to the wall for support, knees buckling slightly as pleasure licked up the spine in a slow, deliberate wave.

No one else was in the apartment.

The water kept falling, indifferent. The air was hot, close, electric. Somewhere beyond the steam, beyond reason, someone was doing this—deliberately, skillfully, with intent.

And the worst part? Y/n didn’t want it to stop.