The warm water poured over your body, steam curling in the air as you closed your eyes and let your thoughts drift. The house was quiet—silent, in fact—and you'd been so sure you were alone. So sure no one would interrupt.

You didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t hear the curtain pull aside. But you did feel the sudden shift—the presence, the heat behind you that definitely wasn’t from the water.

“Ya seriously thought ya could get all wet ‘n naked without me findin’ out?” a familiar voice drawled behind you.

Your eyes shot open, heart skipping. Mammon stood close, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, his trademark cocky grin tugging at his lips as his gaze lazily roamed over you. Water trickled down the lean muscle of his chest, trailing lower, impossibly distracting.

“I—Mammon, what the hell are you—” you started, but your voice caught as he stepped in fully, hands sliding around your waist.

“Shhh, babe,” he murmured, pressing his chest to your back. “I missed ya.”

You could feel it—the way he held you, possessive and trembling slightly with anticipation, despite his smirk. His hands weren’t idle for long; they wandered, slow and exploratory, skimming your sides, teasing along the curve of your hips. You leaned into his touch, half in shock, half aching for more.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all damn day,” he whispered, lips grazing the curve of your neck. “And now here ya are… drippin’ wet and lookin’ like temptation itself.”

He pressed a kiss just beneath your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

“Bet ya were plannin’ to take care of yourself without me, huh?” he growled lowly, voice thick with need. “Tch. Not happenin’. The Great Mammon’s got you now.”

And in that moment—caught between the steam, the water, and Mammon’s burning touch—you weren’t so sure you ever wanted him to let go.