Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 10: Perfect [18+]

The next Morning.

A faint groan of metal stirred the Haven's stillness—not the door, but the cot's frame as Rhea shifted, her wrists chafing against the cuffs still chaining her to its headrail. Morning light leaked through the boarded slits, pale and cold, illuminating the stark gray walls and her sprawled form—crimson hair a sweaty, tangled mess plastered to her scarred shoulders, undershirt clinging damp to her flushed skin.

The cuffs had held her all night, red welts blooming where she'd tugged, desperate to ease the aching tension coiled tight in her core, her fingers denied release. Her amber eyes flickered, half-open, burning with a raw, unfiltered need as her breath rasped in shallow bursts.

The door creaked then, a slow grind, and Kael stepped in—no black case, no tools, just him, shirt already off, lean muscle taut under the dim glow, a sheen of sweat catching the light on his chest. His hazel eyes locked on hers, dark and hungry, as he crossed the room, boots thudding soft against the tiles. Rhea lifted her head, strands of hair sticking to her cheek, her voice rough and cracked—"Please..."—a plea torn from her throat, unguarded, aching.

He grinned, a slow, predatory curve, stepping between her legs where they dangled off the cot's edge. "Thought you'd never ask," he said, voice a low rumble, thick with intent. His hands moved fast—fingers brushing the cuffs, unfastening them with a soft snap of leather, letting them fall to the floor with a dull clink. Her wrists flexed, red and raw, but she didn't pull away—just watched him, amber eyes blazing, her breath hitching as he loomed closer.

No powers this time—just him, raw and real, his hands sliding to her hips, gripping the damp fabric of her undershirt and yanking it up, peeling it off her sweat-slick skin. It caught on her arms, tugging briefly before he tore it free, tossing it aside to bare her scars—jagged lines crisscrossing her chest, her stomach, stark against the flush spreading over her. She gasped—"Kael..."—voice trembling as his fingers traced the rough edges, rough palms grazing her ribs, teasing the sensitive skin just below her breasts.

He leaned in, cedar scent mingling with her musk, and his lips brushed her collarbone—soft at first, a feather-light kiss that drew a shiver from her, her head tipping back. "Fuck..." she moaned, low and needy, as his mouth moved lower, tongue flicking against the peak of her breast, circling slow before sucking hard. Her hands—free now—clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, pulling him closer as her back arched, pressing herself into his mouth. "More..." she rasped, voice breaking, a desperate edge cutting through.

Kael growled against her skin, teeth grazing her nipple—a sharp nip that yanked a louder moan from her—"Ahh... yes..."—her hips bucking up, thighs parting wider. His hands slid down, rough and firm, gripping her waist as he shifted—lips trailing a hot path down her stomach, kissing the scars, sucking at the tender skin above her navel. She writhed, the cot creaking beneath her, her fingers tangling in his hair—"Kael, please... touch me..."—a whine now, raw and unashamed, her body trembling with want.

He didn't tease long—his hands moved to her pants, yanking them down with a rough tug, fabric scraping her thighs as he stripped them off, leaving her bare, legs splayed. Her breath hitched—"Oh... fuck..."—as his fingers brushed her inner thigh, tracing the red mark where the clip had bitten yesterday, then sliding higher, grazing her slick heat. She jolted, a sharp cry—"Yes... there..."—spilling out as he pressed two fingers inside her, slow at first, curling deep, drawing a wet, shuddering moan—"Mmm... Kael..."—her hips rocking against his hand.

He worked her, deliberate—fingers thrusting, stretching her, his thumb brushing her clit in tight circles that made her thighs quake. "God... fuck, yes..." she moaned, loud and unrestrained, her voice echoing off the gray walls as her head thrashed, crimson hair fanning wild across the cot. Her hands gripped his shoulders harder, nails raking red lines down his back—"Harder... please..."—and he obliged, pumping faster, the wet sound of her filling the room, her moans rising—"Ahh... ahh... Kael..."—a desperate chant as she chased the edge.

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But he pulled back—fingers slipping free, her whine—"No... don't stop..."—cut off as he grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her stomach with a rough jerk. The cot groaned, metal straining, as he yanked her up—knees sinking into the thin mattress, ass raised, her scarred back exposed. She gasped—"Fuck... yes..."—as his hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, and he pressed against her—hot, hard, no hesitation—thrusting in deep with a single, brutal push.

Rhea screamed—"Kael... oh god..."—voice shattering as he filled her, her walls clenching tight around him, slick and trembling. He didn't pause—drove into her, hard and fast, hips slamming against hers with a rhythmic slap that echoed in the stark room. "Yes... fuck, yes..." she moaned, loud and raw, her hands fisting the blanket, knuckles white as she rocked back, meeting every thrust with a desperate grind. The cot rattled, metal screeching against the tiles—"Mmm... harder..."—her voice a broken plea, sweat dripping down her spine.

Kael's hands dug into her hips, bruising, pulling her back onto him—each thrust deeper, rougher, his breath ragged, growling low in his throat. "Take it..." he rasped, voice thick, as he angled her hips, hitting a spot that tore a sharper cry from her—"Ahh... right there..."—her body shaking, thighs quivering as pleasure coiled tight, unbearable. She clawed the cot, nails scraping fabric—"Kael... I'm... fuck..."—moans spilling faster, louder, a frantic edge as she teetered.

He shifted—leaning over her, chest pressing against her scarred back, one hand sliding around to grip her breast, squeezing hard as he thrust deeper still. "Come for me..." he growled into her ear, teeth grazing her neck, and she shattered—her scream—"Kael... yes... fuck..."—ripping through the room as her climax hit, body locking tight, pulsing around him. Her hips bucked, erratic, her moans fracturing—"Mmm... ahh... oh..."—as she rode it out, trembling, sweat-slick and undone.

Kael didn't stop—kept thrusting, relentless, drawing out her spasms until she was whimpering—"Too much... Kael..."—voice hoarse, pleading, but craving more. He growled again, low and primal, his grip tightening as he chased his own edge—thrusts turning sharper, faster, the slap of skin on skin a brutal rhythm. "Fuck..." he grunted, and then he broke—spilling into her with a rough, shuddering thrust, a guttural "Rhea..." tearing from his throat as he pulsed, hot and deep, his body tensing against hers.

They collapsed to the cot, a tangle of sweat and flesh—her sprawled across him, chest heaving, her scarred cheek pressed to his chest, crimson hair fanning damp across his skin. Her breath came in ragged gasps—"Mmm..."—soft now, sated, as her amber eyes fluttered half-lidded, catching the pale morning light. Kael's hand slid into her hair, stroking the sweaty strands with a lazy, possessive ease, his smirk faint but undeniable.

"Perfect," he said, voice low, a quiet claim that settled into the stillness. His fingers traced a scar along her shoulder, slow and deliberate, marking her as his. Rhea didn't reply—just pressed closer, her leg hooking over his, her breath warm against his chest, a soft hum vibrating in her throat. Her hand rested on his stomach, scarred fingers curling slightly, and she melted into him—sated, spent, his creation.

The Haven's gray walls stood silent, the morning light steady now, pooling around them. The cot creaked faintly under their weight, a faint echo of their frenzy, and the air hung thick—musk, sweat, the raw scent of them woven tight. No words passed—just the press of her against him, the slow rise and fall of their breaths syncing in the quiet, a bond forged in flesh and fire.