Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 7: Power play

Next Morning.

Kael nudged Rhea's door open, hinges whispering as he stepped in, coin flipping lazily between his fingers. She sat cross-legged on the cot, crimson hair yanked into a messy knot, ash streaks clinging to the strands. The collar gleamed dull around her neck, but her amber eyes met his—steady, edged with something new, less defiance, more intent.

He grinned, leaning against the frame. "You're different today," he said, voice low, teasing the charged air between them as the coin arced.

Rhea shrugged, leather jacket creaking. "Maybe I'm tired of losing." Her tone was dry, casual, but her gaze held—a deliberate spark, testing him.

Kael's grin sharpened, the coin pausing mid-flip as he stepped closer, boots scuffing the tiles. "Good. You've been reacting—letting the fire run you, letting me push. Now you choose." He stopped a pace away, hazel eyes glinting with a quiet dare. "Take the lead. Control it."

Her lips twitched—a sharp, fleeting smirk. "You'll regret that," she said, voice low, laced with challenge. She unfolded her legs, standing slow, deliberate, scarred hands flexing. "Sit," she ordered, nodding at the cot, amber eyes locked on his.

He raised a brow, amused, but obeyed—easing onto the cot, leaning back against the wall, legs stretched. The blue blanket bunched under him, and he tossed the coin aside, letting it clatter. "Your move," he said, voice a low hum, daring her.

Rhea stepped in, looming over him, her shadow cutting across his chest. She reached out—her call, her spark—grabbing his wrist with a scarred hand, grip firm, rough. "Let's see how you like it," she muttered, a glint in her eye as she held him.

Kael's pulse stayed steady, but his Empathic Resonance flared—cold for him, a live wire for her. He looped her touch back, spiking pleasure where her fingers pressed—a sharp spark that ricocheted through her. She jolted, eyes widening, a soft "Ah—" slipping out as warmth bloomed, curling up her arm.

"Keep going," he murmured, steady, tethering her in the storm. Her breath hitched, but she didn't let go—her hand slid up his arm, tracing muscle under his sleeve. He dialed it higher—pleasure swelling, sinking into her chest, coiling tight. Her fingers trembled, a moan breaking free—"Mmm..."—raw, unguarded, her body leaning in.

It was a clash now—she pushed, he pulled, air thickening. Her scarred hand gripped his shoulder, nails biting, and he spiked it again—pleasure racing down her spine. Her knees brushed his, breaths shallow, gasping, and she swayed, caught in her own loop. "You... bastard," she rasped, heat fraying her.

Kael smirked, leaning forward, her hair grazing his cheek. "You're doing it. Hold the reins." She dug in harder, and he pushed—a wave crashing, pooling low. Her thighs clenched, free hand slamming the cot, a shudder rocking her as she teetered. "Kael..." she breathed, ragged, pressing closer—then faltered, a soft cry spilling as she lost it.

She pulled back, panting, stumbling a step, chest heaving, sweat on her scarred neck. Kael stayed put, smirking. "Not bad for a start," he said, standing slow as she caught her breath.

Rhea glared, amber eyes narrowed, but playful now—something new flickering. "You're still an ass," she muttered, lips twitching into a half-smirk.

"Never denied it," he replied, heading for the door. "You took the wheel. Tomorrow, we push further." The lock clicked, leaving her buzzing.

She sank onto the cot, rubbing her hand—the ghost of that spark lingering. She'd meant to prove him, but he'd turned it—a dance, not a fight. Her body craved him still, and she hated how it felt... right.

Dusk bled into the Haven, jagged shadows clawing the gray tiles as Kael pushed Rhea's door open. She paced tight loops, crimson hair a wild tangle, leather jacket creased from restless hours. The collar hummed, her fire leashed, but her amber eyes flicked to him—defiance tangled with raw hunger.

He carried a black case, setting it on the cot with a sharp clink. "You're ready for more," he said, voice low, intent threading through it. Hazel eyes glinted, unyielding.

Rhea smirked, arms folding, scars flexing. "Think you can handle me?" A blade of a question, curiosity burning beneath.

Kael stepped closer, shrinking the space, his presence heavy. "You've got power. Let's channel it right." No coin, no games—just him, steering her into new fire.

She tilted her head, amber narrowing. "Channel? You mean tame."

"Not tame," he corrected, gaze locked. "Focus. You've been wildfire—blind chaos. This is control." He snapped the case open—a sleek black wand hummed faintly as he thumbed it on.

Her smirk faltered, breath catching, then masked. "What's that do?" she asked, rough, holding ground.

"Hold still," he said, boots brushing hers. He pressed the wand to her scarred arm—light, deliberate—Resonance flaring. Vibration spiked into pleasure, radiating sharp and hot. She jolted, a quick "Nh—" escaping, eyes widening as it prickled across her chest.

"Feel that," he murmured, sliding the wand up her scar toward her collarbone. The hum deepened, pleasure sharpening—sinking into her bones. Her knees buckled, a growl melting into a gasp as he brushed her jaw with his free hand, doubling it—arousal surging, hot, insistent.

"Kael..." she rasped, amber darkening, body tensing then leaning in. Her hands twitched, then gripped his arm—steadying, not stopping—as sweat beaded, crimson strands sticking to her neck. "You... prick," she managed, a moan—"Mmm..."—slipping free as the pleasure spiked, thighs clenching.

"Control it," he dared, voice velvet-low, wand lingering, fingers tracing her jaw. The sensation pulsed—relentless, pooling low—her head tipping back, scarred throat bared, teetering on instinct.

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He stopped—sharp, wand off, hand falling. She sagged against the wall, panting, leather askew. "Good start," he said, packing the case. "Tomorrow's more."

Rhea glared, flushed, trembling faintly. "Bastard," she hoarse-whispered, pushing upright, amber eyes wild with tangled heat.

"Always," he smirked, pausing at the door. "You felt it—that's yours to hold next time." The lock clicked, leaving her humming.

She stood, breath ragged, fingers brushing her collarbone. The wand's throb lingered—a new blaze, not her fire, but his. He'd hooked her, damn him, and she was stepping deeper—control dangling just out of reach.