Rain tapped against the tall windows like a quiet metronome, steady and soft. Outside, the pool shimmered beneath the stormy gray sky, untouched. Inside, the house was warm—floorboards smooth under bare feet, lights dimmed to a golden hush. The quiet of it wrapped around them like a blanket.

She stood by the counter, curls damp from earlier when she had stepped outside to feel the rain for herself. Her shoulder brushed the edge of the marble as she leaned into it, wearing one of his shirts that hung loose on her frame. Theon had been watching her from the doorway, one hand resting against the frame, quiet.

It wasn’t sudden when he moved. Nothing he did ever was.

He came up behind her, not rushing, but with that heavy, patient gravity he always carried. His arm slid around her waist first, palm flat against her stomach. His warmth pressed into her back, steady and unshakable.

“You’re always walking around like you don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured low into her ear, his voice dragging slow like honey, like a threat softened by affection.

Her breath caught when his hand slid up, fingers curling gently but firmly around her throat—not to hurt, never that. Just enough to tilt her head back against his shoulder. The kind of touch that asked for her trust and never betrayed it.

He rubbed against her, the shift of his hips deliberate, slow, matching the lazy rhythm of the rain outside. His nose brushed along the curve of her jaw.

“You warm?” he asked, voice soft but close.

She nodded, lips parting.

“Good,” he said, almost to himself. “S’no fun making you shiver when you’re already cozy.”

Even now, there was no edge to him. Nothing overwhelming. Just heat, and closeness, and the quiet way Theon knew how to unravel her without raising his voice or rushing a single moment.