Chapter: Steam and Silence

.

The bathroom was thick with steam.

Water cascaded steadily from above, a soft, constant rhythm against tile and skin. The mirror had long since fogged over, leaving the space enclosed—private, removed from the rest of the world.

Diana stepped under the spray first.

Her dark hair dampened quickly, strands clinging lightly to her face and neck. She exhaled slowly, letting the warmth settle into her muscles.

A moment later—

Beckett stepped in behind her.

Mask gone. Gloves gone.

Rare.

Unfiltered.

She felt him before she turned.

“Finally,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly. “No barriers.”

Beckett’s gaze lingered on her, quieter than usual, but no less intense.

“…Only for you,” he replied.

The space between them closed naturally.

Water traced along their shoulders, their arms—every movement slowed by the heat, by the quiet, by the familiarity of being alone like this.

Diana’s hands moved first.

Up his chest.
Over his shoulders.

Then higher—fingers brushing along his jaw, lingering there as she studied his face like it was something rare. Something only she was allowed to see.

“My prince,” she said softly.

Beckett leaned slightly into her touch.

“…Mistress.”

She turned, shifting so the water ran between them.

Close.

Very close.

Her hands slid downward again, slower this time—deliberate, controlled. Beckett’s breath hitched faintly, his composure holding, but only just.

Diana watched that reaction carefully.

Enjoyed it.

Then—

She stepped back half a pace.

Lowered herself.

The tile was warm beneath her knees.

Steam curled around them, blurring edges, softening everything except the tension between them.

Diana looked up at him, eyes steady, expression calm but unmistakably pleased.

“…You trust me,” she said quietly.

“…Completely.”

Her hands guided him closer.

The rest unfolded in suggestion and shadow:

The subtle shift of posture as she proceeds to move down

The quiet change in his breathing

The way her shoulders moved, slow and controlled

The unmistakable intimacy of the moment, hidden only by steam and silence

Her voice, soft, almost teasing:

“…Always so responsive… my tall, dark, handsome prince.”

Time stretched.

The water kept falling.

Nothing else mattered.

When she finally rose again, it was unhurried—composed, as always.

Her hands smoothed over him lightly, grounding, steadying. Restoring that quiet control they both shared.

Beckett’s hand found her waist, pulling her closer this time.

A reversal.

Subtle—but there.

Their lips met.

Slow. Deep. Familiar.

Steam wrapped around them, the world beyond the bathroom nonexistent.

Diana rested her forehead briefly against his.

“…Perfect,” she murmured.

Beckett’s voice was quieter than before.

“…Always yours.”

The water kept running.

The moment lingered.

And when they finally stepped away, it wasn’t to end it—

Just to carry it with them.