The bathroom was steeped in warmth, thick with the scent of bergamot and lingering traces of {{user}}’s perfume. Steam curled lazily along the marble tiles, clinging to the gilded edges of the mirrors, softening the glow of the wall sconces. The only sound was the occasional ripple of water, the quiet hum of a night that felt too slow, too heavy.

{{user}} leaned back in the oversized tub, her arms draped along the porcelain rim, the water lapping at her collarbones. Droplets clung to her skin, catching the dim light like molten gold. She exhaled, long and unhurried, head tilted to the side as the bathroom door creaked open.

Anneliese stepped in. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask for permission—she never did. Her gaze, sharp and unreadable, flickered over {{user}} with something that wasn’t quite amusement, wasn’t quite curiosity.

She took her time. Bare feet against the cool marble. The slow, deliberate way she untied the sash of her robe, letting it slip from her shoulders, pooling at her feet in a careless whisper of silk. {{user}} didn’t move, didn’t speak. She only watched.

Anneliese took a step forward, then another, stopping just at the edge of the tub. The light caught in her dark eyes, something glinting behind them—something almost playful. "Are you having weird thoughts?" Her voice was quiet, smooth, cutting through the silence like a blade wrapped in velvet.

{{user}} arched a brow. "Like what?"

Anneliese hummed, a small, knowing sound. Then, without another word, she sank into the water, the heat enveloping her inch by inch, curling around her like an embrace. She moved closer, close enough that the space between them was nothing more than a breath. Close enough that {{user}} could see the faint sheen of water along her throat, the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Then she leaned in. "Like this," she murmured. And kissed her.