Morphine (Complete)

𝟏𝟑

She pinched her arm until sharp pain ran through her body.

Fucking idiot. Caring about him will get you killed.

Go get your bag in the main room, see if you can catch any more conversation.

"Remember your goal, Rannia," she muttered to herself.

"Kill."

---

It was a nice bath.

Carter was good at some things, and one of those things was caring. He cared. He took care in setting the water's temperature just right, swirling the soapy suds into the water so they bubbled up around the edges. He took care in setting up candles alongside the bath.

It was only after Rannia sunk under the bubbly mess that she remembered something. Carter cared, and Carter tried.

But Carter still forgot to bring a towel.

She still cleaned herself, soaking in the diluted warmth, transferring from the pristine water to her body. When her toes started to wrinkle, she drained the bath and stepped under the cold shower head, letting it wash away any left over soap. She used a scrubby brush to wipe the rest of the blood from under her nails, taking extra care to wash any remains of Jared from her body. Hair, blood, whatnot.

She watched with satisfaction as the last bits of red left her nails and flowed down the drain, forgotten, and no more important than the occasional clog of hair that would run through sewage.

As she left the shower, water droplets sliding down her skin, she lifted her gaze to her fuzzy reflection in the mirror. She turned, observing her outlined curves. The erect perk of her nipples, wet and red from her shower. Her smooth ass, bouncy, dripping wet. Her fingers drifted along her stomach, feeling along the lines tracing down. As she breathed, she felt her abdominals flex beneath her touch. With her eyes on herself in the mirror, her ears drifted to footsteps outside the door.

"Hello?" She asked, turning in the direction of the noise.

The footsteps stopped.

"What do you want?" Grit out Mykel. For some reason, the knowledge of him being just centimeters from the door, probably facing her, too, as she stood there, naked and wet, completely vulnerable...was all very...arousing. Her pressed her thighs together. Her fingers itched to slide down lower and touch herself, but she stopped, pushing out a sigh.

"I forgot a towel."

Silence passed for a few seconds.

Rannia heard a strained groan from behind the door, quiet, but still audible. The perpetrator adjusted his pants as the space around his groin slowly became tighter and tighter.

Mykel's fist was clenched as his mind envisioned Rannia stood there, nude, form soaked, tight breasts covered with faint bubbles of soap. He could picture her hands drifting down, sliding between her lips, touching the growing button along her cunt—

"Come and get one, then," he grumbled, averting his eyes away from the door, desperately trying to settle on anything that wouldn't make him think of her. "There's a closet right outside the door, girlfriend."

"I-I'm not—" She stuttered, soft voice sputtering from behind the door. He heard her suck in a breath as she steadied herself. "I'm naked, brat."

It was his turn to stutter. Of course, Mykel would never stutter out loud, but his mind tripped over itself. Of course she was naked. His imagination had very well confirmed that moments prior. But her confirmation? Those dirty words leaving her soft lips?