The shower had been running too long.

Keigo never wasted time, but tonight, he lingered.

Your gaze flicked to the dresser, where a pile of red feathers lay scattered—plucked before he went in, stripped away to keep from getting wet. He’d never left this many before.

The door opened.

Steam curled around him, softening sharp angles, blurring the edges of exhaustion. Without his wings, his back looked bare, muscles tense as water trailed down his skin. He sighed, dragging a towel over his neck, slow and deliberate, before rubbing at the space where his wings should’ve been.

Then his eyes found yours.

Half-lidded, unreadable—but smug. He rolled the towel down his chest, knotting it low on his hips. So low you could see where his base met his croch. His fingers lingered, like he was considering untying it just to see how you’d react.

Then he smirked. Stepped closer. Heat radiated off him, the scent of soap tinged with something faintly feverish.

“Didn’t mean to keep you up, dove,” he murmured, voice low and rough.