Lol, what am I doing with my life right now
If there was one thing you liked, it was long showers.
Waking up? Long shower.
After training? Long shower.
Bored?
Long shower.
It was calming to you, to feel the hot wash of water falling over your skin. The relentless pelting was lulling and left you feeling warm and relax when you stepped out. And that's exactly how you felt as you turned the knob in the bathroom, ceasing the intense flow of water from the shower head.
You sighed contently, smiling to yourself as you stepped out of the shower onto a towel. You realized a little too late that there was only one towel in the bathroom before undressing and turning on the water, so you decided to hang around the steamy room as you air dried.
No big deal, you did it all the time. It gave you time to find your favorite lotion (that Keith always misplaced) before your skin started to get too dry.
You were reaching for a bin on one of the high shelves when you heard a cushioned 'thud'.
You snap your head in the direction of the sound, alarmed.
The door of the bathroom was open, Keith frozen in the doorway. His face was flushed beet red, eyes glued to your completely naked body. The 'thud' you heard was the sound of him dropping a stack of freshly cleaned towels on the floor.
"I-I'm sor-sorry-"
"Oh, Hey: You brought towels!"
Smiling at your beet-red, and now flabbergasted, boyfriend you get off your toes and walk over, pretending not to notice his flushing face.
Keith's expression changes from embarrassment to horror as you walk over, hips swaying naturally but way too attractivly for his brain (or groin) to handle. He tries to avert his face to your face but accidentally sees the way your breasts move as you walk and feels even more trapped then before.
Crouching down you pick up the dropped towels in a fluid motion before standing.
"Thanks, Babe," Leaning over you peck his lips, "I owe you one."
If Keith's vocal cords weren't frozen with the rest of his body, he's pretty sure he would have whimpered at your pet name, the only functioning part of him being the uncomfortable pressure in his boxers.
He manages to avoid the closing of the hydraulic door, flinching away from it as it slid closed with a hiss.
Keith stares at the gray metal, trying to think around the distracting burning heat on his face.
Swallowing uneasily, Keith stumbles back to his room, locks the door to his bathroom, and enjoys the images of you in his head before he forgets.
