The cracked ceramic tiles beneath Kiara's feet felt cold and gritty, remnants of sand tracked in from yesterday's beach walk. Water sluiced down her feathers, flattening the soft white plumage against her skin as she reached blindly for the soap dish. Her tank-top dress lay discarded on the damp floor mat, a crumpled heap of blue and white stripes. She hummed tunelessly, the sound echoing slightly in the cramped bathroom.

Her fingers brushed empty air where the soap should've been. Frowning, Kiara bent forward, aqua eyes scanning the wet floor. There it was—a slippery white bar resting near the drain. She cursed softly, shifting her weight to one orange-scaled leg. Water plastered her tailfeathers flat against her thighs as she stretched downward.

The bathroom door creaked open abruptly. Kiara froze mid-reach, water streaming into her eyes. James stood silhouetted in the doorway, his light brown fur darkened at the edges by steam. He wore only his green hoodie, unzipped halfway down his chest, and those ridiculous Sonic sneakers. His gaze locked onto her bent form.

Before she could straighten, James moved. Warm hands settled firmly on the curve of her ass, thumbs pressing into the soft divide between her cheeks. Kiara gasped, feathers puffing slightly despite the water's weight. His grip tightened—not painful, but unquestionably possessive. She felt the blunt heat of his erection against her lower back, a silent promise. "Lost something?" His voice was low, rough against the shower's hiss.

Kiara tried to twist, to protest, but his hips pinned her forward. One hand slid down her slick thigh, guiding her leg wider. The soap lay forgotten near her toes. She braced her palms flat against the cold tile wall, steam thickening the air. James' muzzle pressed into the nape of her neck, hot breath scattering droplets down her spine. She felt the broad, slick head of his cock nudge insistently against her tight entrance.

No warning. Just relentless pressure, then the sudden, burning stretch as he pushed inside her asshole. Kiara cried out—a sharp, startled sound swallowed by the tiles. Her knuckles whitened against the wall. James groaned, hips flush against her cheeks, buried to the hilt. He didn't move yet, just held her there, trembling. The water beat down on them both, washing the sweat from his brow onto her feathers.

Slowly, he withdrew, almost all the way out. Kiara sucked in a ragged breath. Then he slammed back in, harder this time, forcing a choked moan from her throat. His fingers dug into her hips as he set a brutal, steady rhythm—each thrust punching the air from her lungs. The soap dissolved into a slick smear beneath her feet. Her world narrowed to the slap of wet skin against fur, the steam, and the relentless invasion filling her completely. She pushed back against him, seeking friction, her tailfeathers trembling against his thighs.

"Say you wanted this," James growled against her ear, his voice thick with need. His teeth grazed the nape of her neck, sharp enough to sting. Water cascaded over them both, plastering his hoodie to his fur, turning the fabric a deep, clinging emerald against her back. Kiara arched, a ragged gasp escaping her as he thrust deeper, the relentless stretch igniting a raw ache that blurred into something hotter, sharper. Her feathers trembled against his thighs, slick with water and sweat. "Say it."

Her denial died as he angled his hips sharply upward, hitting a spot deep inside that sent a jolt of pure, electric pleasure tearing through her. "Fuck!" she cried out, the sound echoing off the tiles, louder than the shower spray. Her claws scraped against the wall, finding purchase as her knees threatened to buckle. The forgotten soap dissolved into a slick, pearlescent smear beneath her foot. "Yes... god, James!"

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound vibrating through her spine. His hands slid from her hips, one snaking around her waist to palm her belly, pulling her tighter against him, while the other dipped lower, fingers finding the slick heat between her legs. Kiara jerked against him, a choked moan ripped from her throat as he rubbed tight, insistent circles against her clit, perfectly timed with each punishing thrust into her ass. The dual assault shattered her focus—the cold tile against her palms, the steam choking her lungs, the overwhelming fullness behind and the frantic friction in front.

Her climax hit like a wave breaking over rocks—sudden, violent, and utterly consuming. Her body locked, every muscle seizing as a raw, guttural cry tore free. James groaned, burying himself impossibly deeper as she pulsed around him, her inner walls clenching rhythmically. He held her trembling form through the aftershocks, his own breathing ragged against her neck. Only when her gasps subsided into shallow pants did he move again, his rhythm shifting from brutal to possessive, deep and grinding, drawing out the last echoes of her pleasure as his own release built. His grip tightened on her belly, fingers digging into her feathers. "Mine," he rasped, the word thick and final against her skin. She could only nod weakly, her cheek pressed to the cool tile, the steam making her eyelids heavy.

The relentless friction reignited faster than Kiara expected. James’s thrusts grew urgent again, desperate now, each deep stroke pulling a low whine from her throat. His fingers never left her clit, circling with practiced precision, keeping her hovering on the edge even as exhaustion threatened. Water plastered his hoodie completely to his fur, outlining the tense muscles beneath. He wasn’t just fucking her now; he was claiming her, imprinting himself on her senses—the sharp musk of his fur mingling with steam, the slap of wet skin against feathers, the overwhelming fullness stretching her core. Her claws scraped uselessly against the tile again, seeking purchase against the onslaught. "More," she breathed, the plea barely audible over the shower spray. "Don't stop."

He obeyed with a sharp, upward thrust that stole her breath. His rhythm fractured, becoming erratic, powerful surges punctuated by shuddering pauses. His muzzle pressed hard into the junction of her neck and shoulder, teeth scraping lightly. Kiara felt the telltale tension coiling in his hips, the frantic pulse deep inside her. "Inside," he choked out, the command rough-edged. "Take it all." She braced, pushing back against him, welcoming the inevitable. His groan was deep, primal, as his hips slammed flush against her ass one final time. Heat flooded her core in thick, pulsing jets, a possessive claim that sent another tremor through her exhausted limbs. He held himself buried deep, trembling, his breath hot and ragged against her soaked feathers.

Slowly, the frantic energy bled away. James slumped against her, his weight heavy and warm. His softening length remained buried within her, a lingering connection. For a long moment, the only sounds were their mingled breaths and the drumming water. He nuzzled her neck, a surprisingly tender gesture. "Still need that soap?" he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction and exhaustion. Kiara managed a weak laugh, the sound muffled against the tile. She felt boneless, utterly claimed, steam swirling around them like a cocoon. His fingers traced lazy circles on her belly, a stark contrast to the intensity moments before. The soap lay forgotten, a slick, shapeless smear near the drain. The bathroom felt impossibly small, filled only with the scent of sex, sweat, and cheap soap dissolving into nothing. She leaned back into him, letting his hoodie soak up the water running down her spine. "Later," she breathed, her voice rough. "Just... stay." His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against his damp fur. The shower spray beat down, washing away the immediate evidence, but leaving the deeper imprint untouched. Kiara closed her eyes, feeling the tremor still in her thighs, the profound ache, and the unexpected warmth blooming low in her belly where his seed settled. It was messy, raw, and utterly complete. James shifted slightly, pulling her closer still, his chin resting on her shoulder. He didn't speak, just pressed a damp kiss below her ear. Outside the steamed-up window, the muffled sound of gulls cried, distant and irrelevant. Here, in this cramped, humid space, there was only the shared exhaustion, the fading adrenaline, and the quiet understanding settling between them. Kiara tilted her head back against his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his face in the fogged mirror – eyes half-lidded, a satisfied curve to his muzzle. A faint smile touched her own beak. The soap could wait. Right now, the warmth radiating through her, the solid presence at her back, and the deep, possessive stillness were all she needed. The water cooled slightly, a welcome contrast to the heat still simmering beneath her skin. James sighed, a contented rumble she felt against her spine. "Your showerhead sucks," he grumbled, the mundane complaint jarringly normal after the intensity. Kiara snorted, a genuine laugh this time. "Shut up," she whispered, bumping her hip gently against him. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. They stayed like that, tangled under the lukewarm spray, breathing in the humid air thick with spent passion, letting the world outside the bathroom door fade into insignificance. The cracked tiles beneath her feet felt less cold now, almost grounding. The steam began to thin, revealing patches of peeling paint on the ceiling. Kiara watched a bead of water trace a path down the wall. It was messy, imperfect, and utterly theirs. James shifted again, finally withdrawing with a soft, slick sound. He reached past her, turning the squeaky faucet knob. The water shut off with a sudden gasp, leaving them standing in dripping silence. The abrupt quiet felt enormous. Kiara shivered slightly, the cool air hitting her wet feathers. James grabbed her discarded towel, rough but warm, and draped it around her shoulders. "C'mon," he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. He pulled her against his side, guiding her away from the damp wall. She leaned into him, towel clutched tight, leaving the dissolved soap and the lingering heat behind. The bathroom door creaked open again, releasing a plume of steam into the cooler hallway. Together, they stepped out, leaving the scene of their collision behind, stepping into whatever came next.