The water beat down on your skin, warm and steady, the sound lulling you into a relaxed daze. The world outside melted into the background, the house silent, still. You were sure no one else was there.

Until a soft voice—smooth and cool like dark velvet—broke through the mist behind you.

“I do hope you won’t mind… but I’ve grown rather fond of watching you when you’re vulnerable like this.”

You spun, heart skipping, only to find Barbatos standing there, serene as ever. His usually impeccable uniform was nowhere in sight, dark hair damp, his body lean and sculpted beneath the stream. Despite the calm in his expression, there was an unmistakable intensity in his emerald eyes—sharp, unreadable, and fixed solely on you.

“You didn’t even sense me,” he said with a quiet smile, stepping forward with quiet precision. “You really should be more alert… especially when you tempt fate so sweetly.”

His hand reached up to tuck wet strands of hair behind your ear, fingertips lingering just a moment too long. “You think I’m only good at baking and time manipulation?” His voice dropped, low and hypnotic. “You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m not holding back.”

He moved behind you with fluid grace, arms slipping around your waist, his chest pressed flush to your back. His lips brushed the nape of your neck—delicate, reverent—before he dragged them slowly down your shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, fingers exploring the line of your hips, the touch featherlight but deliberate. “Is that fear… or anticipation?”

One hand traced your inner thigh, slow enough to make your breath hitch, while the other gently tilted your chin back toward him. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered against your ear. “And I’ll deliver it… perfectly.”

There was no rush in his touch, no chaos—just precision. Controlled. Intentional. Wickedly patient. And that restraint… that deliberate slowness… made every second feel like it could shatter you.

“Shall we make this… a memory worth repeating?” he asked, lips barely brushing yours.