Vision quickly grew clouded with silver-tinted exhalations, but the shining silver of Zel’s eyes cut through the Fog and steam. Zel leaned in, locked her lips to Zef’s. She pressed both her tongue and her fingers between Zef’s lips, albeit at different ends. Just as Zelsys had used a small electric arc to ignite CP-T back in the dungeon, so did she use one now to set Zef’s being ablaze with an overwhelming tsunami of pleasure that utterly drowned the middling pain of electric shock.

Her arms reached out for Zelsys of their own volition, the left wrapping itself around her back and grabbing that which her eyes grasped for so frequently while the right deftly found its way between the amazon’s legs. Not a single thought could remain afloat in the raging sea of hormones that swirled through her head, and yet her fingers remembered where to press, what small motions would get the two-meter tower of muscle shuddering and moaning just as Zefaris was.

There was no elaborate, prolonged foreplay, no candles or Rubedo-infused bath salts.

There were only moments stretched on for what felt like hours, hands that grasped for copper pipes overhead, knees that buckled, and a twitching, moaning climax. After that, a tsunami of hormones and animal instinct drowned all of Zef’s remaining mental clarity. Sensations ran together like spilled paint and any thought was smeared out of being amidst the slippery, lustful mess of flesh that they had become.

Zefaris couldn’t even tell how many times she’d struggled to remain standing as another rapturous flood washed over and out of her. She lost count after three. Soon enough, both their legs gave out under them and they inevitably slid onto the floor, and still they kept at it. Zel straddled Zef, and with the height difference between them, it was only inevitable that Zef ended up with a nipple in her mouth. Somehow, hearing the audibly surprised moan that this elicited from her one-armed lover was easily as satisfying as every brain-melting orgasm that Zelsys had inflicted upon her.

They’d slowed down - Zel no longer stimulated Zef’s most sensitive spots with that rapid-fire electric pounding, and likewise Zef didn’t hammer the buttons between Zel’s legs with all the speed and precision afforded to her trigger finger. At this rate, both of them were more than willing to just stay like this for a while, remaining in one another’s embrace and riding out each climax as it arrived. Even so, there was one limit that inevitably pushed them to stop - the water.

“We’ll have more time later, just…” Zef uttered. “Let’s get this muck off before the water goes cold.”

One could feel the steam that filled the air growing cold. And so, they slowly and cautiously struggled to their feet and got in the lukewarm bath, running the tap until the tub threatened to overflow and the water once again neared the temperature of a hot spring. Zefaris had no clock to look at here, and even if there was one, she wouldn’t have. Much of her attention was actually directed towards making absolutely certain that none of Zel’s injuries could grow infected, that there were no fragments lodged in there, and that the scab over her stump wouldn’t open up or slough off altogether.

All these worries proved to be unfounded, much to Zel’s vocal if half-sarcastic appreciation of Zef’s doting. At this point, Zefaris felt that she was being more impacted by her lover’s dismemberment than Zelsys herself. She drowned the consideration of just leaving it be, reasoning aloud, “It’s not a big deal now, but if you don’t care about your own injuries I’ll just have to pick up the slack.”

“I could clean my own wounds. I just… Like it better this way. This is nice,” Zel responded in an entirely earnest tone. No facetiousness, no sarcasm, no exaggerated bravado. It came across as so suddenly genuine that Zef suddenly stopped what she was doing just to look Zel in the eyes. She didn’t see a smug half-grin or a predatory glare looking back at her, but was instead met by a warmly-smiling, half-lidded expression.

They stayed like that, for a few minutes. Doing nothing, saying nothing, just staring at one another. Nevertheless the water didn’t wait, and it grew further from a tolerable temperature with each passing minute, and Zefaris quickly realized they’d have to get out of the bath sooner rather than later. Her only means of approximating how long they had spent scrubbing one another and washing one another’s hair was the amount of suds in the tub and how much the water had cooled down by the time she thought herself more or less clean.

Although Zel hadn’t taken a towel, it wasn’t an issue. There were spare towels hanging on the pipes, already nice and warm. Each of them dried herself off as best she could, helping the other reach hard-to-get areas.

Being the first to get out of the tub, Zef stepped over and lifted her hair forward, holding up her towel for Zel with a wordless request to help dry her back. The towel was pulled from her hand, she felt the water being wiped off her back, and then heard the towel get hanged tossed onto a pipe. Still drenched in water, Zelsys stepped out of the tub and stood before Zefaris, looking down at her with that familiar half-grin and predatory glow in her eyes. Her sodden hair stuck to her skin and coiled around her body like the tendrils of some abyssal leviathan. Were Zefaris at all opposed or surprised, Zefaris might’ve asked something along the lines of, “Again already?” or “Still not done?”

Unlike the water, the heat within her hadn’t just vanished after such an abrupt end and an hour-long bath. If anything, the bath had only served to do away with any aches and replenish her for round two.

So it was that Zefaris found herself being pushed down to sit on the edge of the bathtub while Zel lowered herself to sit on the bare tiles.