Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 8: Feel it

A sharp clatter jolted Rhea awake—metal on tile, a sound that sliced through the haze of restless sleep. She bolted upright on the cot, crimson hair a wild snarl spilling over her shoulders, the blue blanket tangled around her legs. Her amber eyes darted to the source: Kael, standing in the doorway, a black case dropping from his hand to the floor with a deliberate thud.

The Haven's gray walls loomed in the half-light, dusk bleeding through the boards, and the collar around her neck hummed faint and steady, a leash she'd almost forgotten.

"Strip the jacket," he said, voice firm, cutting through the stale air like a whipcrack. No greeting, no warm-up—just him, hazel eyes glinting with intent, his dark shirt clinging to his frame as he stepped forward.

Rhea blinked, breath catching, her scarred hands hovering over the leather. She hesitated—a beat, two—then shrugged it off, letting it slump to the cot in a creased heap. Her scorched shirt clung to her lean frame, frayed edges brushing her hips, exposing the jagged scars snaking across her arms.

"Happy now?" she muttered, voice rough from sleep, but her amber eyes held his—a mix of defiance and a flicker of something softer, drawn tight.

Kael grinned, a slow, dangerous curve. "Better." He knelt, snapping the case open with a flick, the sound sharp in the quiet. "You hide behind the fire—always have. No hiding now." His words spun a flimsy thread of rehab—exposure, peeling back layers—but it was thin, a mask she was too deep to call out.

Her lips parted, a retort forming, but it died as he stood, pulling something from the case: leather cuffs, simple and black, no tech, just restraint.

"Trust me," he said, stepping close—close enough that the cedar tang of him brushed her senses. He grabbed her wrists, fast and sure, fastening the cuffs with a soft creak of leather. She tugged once, testing, as he chained them to the cot's frame—short links clinking against the metal, pinning her arms above her head. Her breath hitched, amber eyes flaring, but she didn't fight—just watched, caught in the pull.

He didn't pause. From the case came a feather-tipped rod—long, slender, its soft end glinting in the dim light. He dragged it along her scarred arm, light and teasing, the tickle brushing her skin like a whisper.

He touched her skin lightly, then his Empathic Resonance flared—cold for him, a flood for her—amplifying the sensation into a rush of arousal that surged from the feather's path. Rhea squirmed, the cuffs rattling, a sharp "Nh—" slipping out as the pleasure prickled across her chest, warm and insistent.

"Feel it," he murmured, voice low, a gravel thread weaving through it. He slid the feather higher, tracing the jagged line of a scar toward her collarbone, the tickle morphing into a pulse that sank deep. Her body arched, leather creaking as she tugged against the cuffs, but he didn't relent—switched the rod for a small, pulsing toy, its surface buzzing faintly as he pressed it to her inner thigh.

The vibration hit—soft at first, then sharper as he amplified it, a jolt that raced up her leg, coiled tight in her gut. Her breath fractured, a growl rising—"Kael, you..."—but it melted into a gasp as his free hand joined in, fingers grazing her neck, rough against the scarred skin. He spiked the pleasure—doubling it, tripling it—layering the toy's pulse with his touch until it was a relentless current, hot and unyielding.

Rhea's knees buckled, her hips shifting as the cot creaked beneath her. The cuffs held firm, her scarred arms straining, but she couldn't escape—didn't want to. The feather came back, brushing her collarbone again, a soft counterpoint to the toy's buzz now inching higher up her thigh. His fingers lingered on her neck, thumb pressing just below the collar, and he dialed it up—pleasure blooming sharp and deep, a throb that drew a low moan from her throat—"Mmm..."—raw, unbidden.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

He was relentless, playing her like an instrument—feather teasing, toy pulsing, his touch stoking the fire. The sensations layered, overlapping—soft tickles sparking into electric jolts, warm pulses sinking into a steady ache. Her skin flushed, sweat beading on her brow, crimson hair sticking to her cheeks as she writhed, tugging the cuffs harder. "Stop... don't..." she rasped, but it was weak, a plea drowned by the heat flooding her veins.

Kael's hazel eyes glinted, tracking every shudder, every fractured sound. "No hiding," he said, voice a low rumble, leaning closer—close enough that his breath grazed her ear. He dragged the feather down her arm again, slow and deliberate, while the toy pressed higher—dangerously close, teasing the edge without crossing it. His fingers slid to her jaw, tilting her face up, and he spiked it once more—a wave crashing through her, sharp and hot, pooling low until her thighs clenched, her body arching off the cot.

She was still Rhea—fiery, stubborn, a spark that wouldn't die—but she was melting, breaking under his control. The rehab frame was a ghost now, a lie she didn't care to unravel. Her amber eyes locked on his, pupils blown wide, and she growled again—"You... bastard..."—but it turned into a moan, her voice cracking as the pleasure coiled tighter, pushing her to the brink.

He didn't let her tip over—just held her there, trembling, caught in the web he'd spun. Then he pulled back—abrupt, precise—switching off the toy, dropping the feather into the case, his hand falling from her jaw. Rhea sagged, the cuffs clanking as she slumped against the cot's frame, chest heaving, her scorched shirt clinging to her sweat-slick skin. Her amber eyes were dazed, unfocused, her breath a ragged rhythm in the quiet.

Kael stood, towering over her, the case snapping shut in his hand. "You're mine to fix," he said, voice rough, a raw edge cutting through the calm. He stepped back, leaving her cuffed, trembling—amber eyes flickering as they tracked him to the door. "Tomorrow's more."

"Wait. Come back, atleast open these cuffs!"

The air hung thick, charged with her gasps, the faint buzz of the collar the only sound as it faded into silence. Rhea stopped fighting—just breathed, shallow and fast, her scarred hands flexing in the cuffs. Her body hummed, hooked deep, a craving she couldn't shake pulsing through her.

She tilted her head back, crimson hair spilling over the cot, and stared at the ceiling—unseeing, lost in the afterglow. The fire was still hers, locked under the collar, but this—this was Kael's blaze, one he'd lit and fanned until it consumed her.

She'd burned for chaos, for grief, for her brother's ghost, but he'd stripped that away, layer by layer, leaving her bare—vulnerable, wanting. The cuffs bit into her wrists, a reminder she was caught, and for once, she didn't care.