Chapter 72 Leo
The water beat down on my back, hotter than usual. I let it sting, the way I always did when I needed to clear my head, though nothing really cleared anymore. Steam fogged the glass, curling like smoke in the corners of the mirror. The tiles under my feet had gone slick. I leaned my palms into the wall and lowered my head, letting the spray flood my hair, over my neck, tracing down the curve of my spine.
My thoughts drifted where they always did lately, pulled like magnets to the wrong places. The encrypted threads I still hadn’t cracked. The redacted memos. The way Edward’s voice had sounded last time we spoke. Flat. Like he already knew something I didn’t. Something final.
I blinked the water from my eyes and dragged a hand down my face.
Something moved behind me.
I froze. Just a sound, soft and strange. Not the pipes. Not the fan. Not the usual shuffle of distant dorm life beyond the walls. I turned slowly, heart already picking up speed, expecting maybe a shadow or—
Kristen.
Standing in the steam like she’d always belonged there. Hair damp at the ends, a towel wrapped loosely around her chest, skin flushed from either heat or nerves. But her eyes didn’t look nervous. They looked amused. Bright and knowing.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up, Leo?”
My throat caught. I straightened, back pressing into the tile, chest bare and dripping. She stepped forward, not hurried, just casual. Like she’d come to borrow a toothbrush or check her reflection.
“Kristen—what the hell are you—” My voice cracked over the heat and confusion.
She smiled like I hadn’t said anything at all, then let her fingers trail along the foggy glass of the shower door. She didn’t open it. Just watched me, head tilted slightly, pupils wide and liquid in the low light. Her tongue flicked across her lip.
“Relax,” she said.
The door slid aside with a hiss of condensation. She stepped in without flinching, letting the steam swallow her whole. The towel stayed on, barely. One corner caught at her hip, the rest clung damply to the slope of her breasts. Her skin glistened, collarbone sharp above the fabric.
“Kristen, seriously—what are you—”
She reached out and placed a single finger on my chest. The contact burned hotter than the water. She slid it down slowly, lazily, past the notch of my sternum, across the ridge of muscle, stopping just below the curve of my ribs.
“Thinking too much again,” she murmured.
I caught her wrist. My fingers wrapped around it too hard at first. She didn’t pull away. Her skin was wet, like mine, and her pulse beat steady beneath my thumb. I looked into her face, tried to find a smirk or a punchline, but there was only a kind of bold calm. Like she already knew the outcome.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Who’s laughing?”
I let go.
She stepped closer. The water caught her shoulders now, pouring over her back. Her towel had shifted, more suggestion than cover. I should have backed away. I didn’t.
“You’re not real,” I said, but the words sounded hollow. She didn’t respond. Just reached up and threaded her hand into my wet hair, pulling gently, tilting my face downward.
“I always wondered how you’d taste,” she whispered.
Her lips brushed mine. Soft. Slow. Not even a kiss, just a pass, a trace. The contact made my knees go loose. I exhaled through my nose, trying not to respond, but my mouth parted before I could stop it. She smiled against me and kissed me full this time. Tongue warm, tasting, slow. Her other hand flattened against my stomach.
I sucked in a breath and caught her wrist again.
“Stop.”
But I didn’t move. And she didn’t stop.
The towel dropped behind her. I didn’t see it fall. One second it was there, then it wasn’t. Her breasts pressed against my chest, skin-to-skin, wet-to-wet. My cock was already hard and rising between us, nudging against her hip. She looked down at it and made a soft, approving sound in the back of her throat.
“Stop,” I said again, but it came out quieter.
She dropped to her knees.
Her fingers wrapped around me before I could blink. Hot, slick, slow. Her palm circled the head, thumb teasing just under the ridge. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked at the ceiling. The water hammered down, but none of it registered anymore. She stroked me once, twice, then leaned forward and took me into her mouth.
My head knocked lightly against the tile.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
She sucked gently, then deeper, tongue swirling around the tip. Her mouth was so warm, it hurt. My hands went to the wall for balance, slick palms spread wide. I forced myself to keep my hips still, but she made a low sound—like encouragement—and that undid something in me.
She moved faster. My fingers curled against the grout.
Every flick of her tongue unraveled another thought. I couldn’t hold onto anything. Not the Realm. Not the codes. Not the warnings. Just her lips, her rhythm, the obscene wet sound echoing off the steam-soaked tile. Her hands braced against my thighs, fingers spreading slightly, nails biting.
I groaned, louder than I meant to.
She moaned around me. The vibration went straight through my spine. I nearly lost it right then. My hips jerked forward, and she took it, let me fill her throat, no hesitation. Her hands slid back, cupping my ass now, pulling me deeper. I barely kept upright.
“Kristen—” My voice was hoarse. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”
The bathroom door opened.
I froze.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice said cheerfully. “Housekeeping!”
The world shattered.
Kristen didn’t stop. Her mouth kept working, slow and deliberate, like she hadn’t heard. Like it was just the two of us, still sealed in fog and tile. I looked down in horror, but she only glanced up at me with wide, glinting eyes—and winked.
“Oh good,” the maid said from somewhere behind the curtain. “You’re in. Do you want the white shirts washed too?”
I tried to answer. Nothing came out.
Kristen sucked harder.
“Sir?”
My knees buckled slightly. I gritted my teeth and reached blindly for the curtain.
“Just—yeah, that’s fine,” I managed to croak.
“All of them?”
Her tongue curled around the tip and I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.
“Sure,” I said, too fast. “All of them.”
There was a pause.
“Okay then. I’ll just collect them.”
Kristen didn’t let up. She was relentless now, bobbing her head in steady rhythm, saliva dripping down her chin. I looked down at her, wild-eyed. She looked so innocent like that, eyes wide, lips stretched, hair wet and curling over her shoulders.
My hand slapped against the glass door. The pressure building was unbearable.
“Are these socks dirty too?” the maid asked.
I stared straight ahead at the wall. Breathed through my teeth.
“Yes.”
I felt the moment coming, the surge right at the base, electric and impossible to stop. Kristen sucked harder. I gripped the wall, every muscle locking tight.
Then I woke up.
My eyes flew open. My heart hammered like a warning siren, my chest heaving, breath shallow and fast. My briefs were soaked through. The fabric clung wetly to my skin, stretched painfully over my erection. I lay in the sheets for a second, stunned, not moving.
The dream hadn’t faded. It clung like steam to my skin.
I rolled onto my side and groaned, one hand tugging the waistband of my underwear away from my cock, which twitched angrily in response. I cursed softly under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. My brain still echoed with her mouth, the maid’s voice, the slap of water against tile.
I hadn’t had a dream like that in years. Not like that. Not that vivid.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I reached for it, still half-hard, still dazed. The screen lit up with Edward’s name.
come in today
No punctuation. No context. No other messages.
I sat up, shoving a pillow into my lap. The dream still clung to me in layers, scent and sound and taste. I rubbed my hands over my face. Tried to think. Tried to breathe. Tried to stop being hard.
Someone knocked on the door.
I froze.
Another knock. Softer this time.
“Leo?”
Kristen’s voice.
I bolted upright and yanked a towel from the chair, wrapping it around myself in a panic. My heart was still racing, but for different reasons now. I crossed the room and opened the door just enough to see her standing there.
She looked different from the version in my dream. Softer. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot. Pajama shorts. Hoodie. No towel. No steam.
“Hey,” she said, hesitating. “Can I talk to you?”
I stepped back, letting her in. She walked slowly, twisting her hands. I couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.
“Sorry. For earlier,” she said. “I know I was—shitty.”
I said nothing. My towel was barely hanging on.
“I just... I freaked out, okay? And I know it looked bad. It was bad. But please don’t recommend expulsion. Please.”
She looked up at me, eyes shining a little. Her hands trembled.
“If I get expelled, I’m done. There’s nowhere else for me to go. Please.”
I tried to focus on her words, but my eyes kept drifting. Her collarbone. The curve of her throat. Her knees.
“What were you looking for?” I asked, cutting her off.
She blinked.
“In the database. What were you trying to find?”
She shook her head too fast.
“Nothing. It wasn’t—it wasn’t anything.”
“That’s not true.”
“It wasn’t,” she insisted, stepping back. “I swear.”
I stared at her.
“Tell me the truth.”
She looked like she might. Her mouth opened. Then closed again. Her gaze dropped to the floor.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Then I have to file the report.”
“No—please.”
She stepped forward again, her voice cracking now. Her eyes wet.
“Please, Leo. Don’t do this. You don’t understand. I’m begging you.”
I opened the door.
She froze.
“Leo.”
I didn’t answer.
She turned and left without another word. No knock. No second try. Just silence.
I leaned against the door and exhaled, still hard beneath the towel. My cock twitched, like it was mocking me. I unwrapped the towel and let it fall, glaring down at myself in frustration.
The dream wouldn’t let go. Her lips. Her hands. The rhythm. The look in her eyes when she took me deep. And now her real voice outside my door, pleading. Fragile.
I stood there for a long time, every muscle aching.
Eventually I sat on the edge of the bed and let my head fall into my hands.
“Fuck.”