How to Train Your Channeler

[Oriena]

They shed clothes on the way, leaving a deliberate trail of abandon. Ori didn’t slow for modesty; she pressed into him, rough and teasing, guiding him backwards like a predator savouring the chase. She kept him off balance, never letting him feel safe in her control, while heat and friction coiled through every inch of contact. By the time they reached the showers, they were half-stripped, breath ragged, hearts racing – and she was still pressing him back, eyes dark with mischief and challenge.

Ori slammed the button on the showers with the flat of her hand.

Water screamed from the pipes, ice at first, stabbing shoulders, spine, ribs, thighs. A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from her throat, but her gaze up at Sasha was sinful – and fully knowing. The shock only made skin more sensitive, and she pressed herself harder against him, hips grinding, hands roaming, nails dragging over slick flesh, teasing the tender spots the water had made electric. Every nerve in her body screamed, every inch of skin alive and burning.

She guided him, but never gently, whispering heat into his ear, letting the water bite and sting where she wanted it while her hands roamed unchecked. Her fingers tangled in his hair, dug into his shoulders, sliding across chest and stomach, rubbing and pinching over places the icy water had left painfully alive. Every shiver, hiss and gasp she answered with deliberate heat – pressing lips, tongue, teeth, and body with intent, until the contrast between fire and frost was almost cruel in its intensity. Every stolen breath and twitch of muscle drew a smirk from her, made her pulse pound louder. She was storm and fire, orchestrating sensation and punishment in equal measure, letting him collapse into the tormented pleasure she commanded.

Ori felt fiercely alive, and she made sure he knew it.

The cold lingered long enough to make them both gasp, shiver, and tremble. But slowly, almost teasingly, the temperature finally began to shift. Warmth slid over taut nerves, loosening muscles while leaving every inch hypersensitive to her hands, her mouth, her heat. The contrast between shock and relief was exquisite, and Ori let it linger, revelling in the sensation. Her body throbbed, and each hitch of Sasha's breath, every inch of slick, shivering flesh as he adjusted sent her blood running hotter. She could feel the tension building not just in him, but in herself, that delicious spike of wanting something raw, real, unmediated by hesitation or courtesy. She didn’t relent or soften. She pressed him into the shower wall, arms sliding along his torso, fingers teasing, marking a claim. And in the heat she drew his mouth back down to hers.