The night air was soft and calm, carrying the scent of clean laundry and Milicent had just finished folding the last towel in the hallway. Her chores were finally done, and all she wanted was a few peaceful minutes with Ray.
She walked toward the hall way of Ray's room Only the faint dripping of a bathroom tap echoed as she turned the corner.
And then she saw him.
Ray stood at the open doorway to his room, just stepping out from the shower. A white towel was slung low on his hips, and his damp curls clung to his forehead in soft, disheveled waves. Droplets of water ran down the curve of his neck and over his chest, trailing along his smooth skin like tiny, shining threads.
The moonlight caught on his collarbone, the rise and fall of his breath steady and slow. There was something effortless in how he looked — not posed, not trying — just beautifully human.
Milicent stopped in her tracks, eyes wide.
Ray turned — surprised at first — but when he saw her, he smiled, slow and sweet, his dimples deepening. "Hey," he said, voice soft and low. "Didn't know you were coming yet."
She blinked, her heart fluttering. "I, um… finished early. Wanted to see you as asked!!
He reached for a shirt nearby, but she shook her head, stepping closer, cheeks pink. "No. You look… fine. Really fine."
He chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair, sending another trail of water down his shoulder. "are you insinuating I should stay like this?"
Milicent laughed, stepping close enough to take in the warmth of his skin, the fresh scent of soap and something that was just Ray.
"I'm saying," she whispered, "you always somehow know how to steal my breath."
He leaned in, wrapping an arm gently around her waist, pulling her just a little closer. The air between them warmed.
"Milicent," Ray whispered, standing to meet her.
His voice was low and warm, a thread of smoke in the cool air.
She didn't speak. Her fingers found the hem of his towel and he let her lift it slowly over his knees Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, she traced back to the curve of his shoulder, the softness of his skin, the quiet strength underneath.
She had never seen him like this — not just bare, but vulnerable. And in that vulnerability, he was more beautiful than she had words for.
Ray leaned in, forehead resting gently against hers.
"You don't have to rush," he murmured. "We can stop anytime."
But Milicent only answered by tilting her lips toward his, brushing them softly against his mouth like a question she already knew the answer to.
The kiss deepened slowly, layer by layer — no rush, no hunger, just heat — a gentle tide pulling them under together. His hands slid to her waist, fingers memorizing every breath she took, every pause between them.
he carresed her breast
pulled down her gown
and the other
Clothes fell away like falling petals — quiet, slow, intentional.
When he laid her down, his touch was a promise. No sudden movements, no harshness — only warmth and exploration, the kind that unfolded like poetry written on skin.
The way he looked at her made her feel like she wasn't just being touched — she was being cherished.
And when they finally gave in to the weight of wanting — bodies entwining like a dance they already knew by instinct — it wasn't just heat that bloomed between them.
It was belonging.
They moved in rhythm with each other, breaths tangled, hearts in sync. Every sigh was a confession. Every kiss was a vow. It was slow, aching, beautiful.
After, they lay in silence, limbs tangled, his hand tracing soft circles along her spine.
Milicent's head rested on his chest, where she could feel the echo of his heartbeat — steady and calm.
"I've never…" she whispered.
"Me neither," Ray replied softly. "But I knew… if it ever happened… it'd be with you."
She smiled into his skin, eyes fluttering closed.
And in the quiet of that night, wrapped in warmth and love, the world outside faded — and all that remained was the quiet truth between them:
This was love — tender, deep, and real.