The sound of the rain had become a rhythm—steady, pounding, like a pulse that matched the one thudding in Ash's chest.
Inside the car, the air was warm and humid. Fog bloomed across the windows, making everything outside a blur. But Ash didn't notice any of it. He couldn't—not with Celeste straddling him, her breath hot against his cheek, her fingers grazing across his bare chest.
His uniform shirt was already discarded, somewhere behind them in the backseat. His skin was flushed, beads of sweat clinging to his collarbones. His hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, and his glasses were slightly tilted.
Celeste was close—too close—her dark hair falling around his face like a curtain, her lips barely a breath away from his.
Her mouth curled up into a smirk.
"You're so red."
Ash swallowed.
"Y-You're not exactly helping."
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his without kissing him—yet.
"Good."
And then she kissed him.
Hard.
Desperate.
It wasn't sweet, it wasn't slow—it was hunger. Her mouth claimed his with raw need, stealing the air from his lungs and replacing it with fire. The lingering taste of beer mixed with her natural sweetness, and Ash let out a sharp, involuntary sound into her mouth.
His hands flew to her waist, gripping her as if she'd disappear. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue—and Ash shuddered under her, his head spinning.
He barely managed to keep up, trying to match the rhythm, the pressure, the hunger. Her hands pressed flat against his bare chest, nails dragging lightly down his skin—not enough to scratch, but enough to make him tremble.
Her kiss slowed for just a breath, teasing him into thinking she'd ease up—but then her mouth slid to his jaw, down to his neck, where she kissed once… twice…
And then bit.
"A-Ah—Cel—!" Ash gasped, hips twitching under her as her teeth grazed the sensitive spot on his neck.
Celeste didn't stop. She sucked hard, leaving a mark—deliberate, possessive—then kissed over it, tongue flicking once to soothe.
Celeste barely pulled back when Ash's hands gripped her waist tighter—this time with purpose.
His pupils were blown, his breath uneven, and his body trembling—but no longer from just shyness. Something had shifted. There was a fire in his gaze now, the kind that made Celeste's smirk falter just a little.
"Ash?" she whispered, a bit breathless, blinking as he leaned in closer, his grip on her thighs tightening ever so slightly.
"I—" His voice cracked, but he cleared it, eyes locked with hers. "You're driving me crazy, Cel."
Her smile curled.
"That was the plan."
But before she could say more, Ash dove in—not into another kiss, but straight to her neck. His mouth latched onto her skin, biting harder this time—more assertive, more possessive—eliciting a surprised gasp from her.
"Ohhh… so someone's finally snapping," she murmured.
"I'm not snapping," he muttered, face buried in her neck, voice muffled against her skin as he trailed dangerously low.
"I'm just…" he paused at her collarbone, breath fanning her skin.
"…completely losing my mind."
Celeste laughed—until Ash's hands slid behind her back, moving with a kind of reckless precision as he reached for the clasp of her bra. No hesitation. No trembling. Just raw desperation. The moment his fingers found it, he clicked it open with a sharp snap, his breath breaking unevenly against her shoulder.
The bra slipped away.
Celeste was bare before him, her skin warm and soft under the car's dim glow. She blinked.
Then—without missing a beat, he reached up and removed his glasses, handing them to her.
"Here," he said.
"…What?"
"I don't want to break them," he explained, and with a shy grin, slipped the glasses onto her face.
Celeste blinked.
"Ash, I'm blind—whoa—!"
The world spun a little as the lens warped her vision, making everything swim like a dream.
"How the hell do you see with these?"
"I don't," Ash murmured, lowering his head. "I see you."
And then he kissed her chest.
Not soft. Not slow.
Like he needed her.
His mouth closed around her breast, tongue swirling, sucking deeply like he was starved. Celeste arched into him, a moan ripping from her throat
He switched to the other side without pause, his hands now rougher, bolder, fingers splaying along her waist, guiding her, grounding her.
Celeste giggled between gasps, pushing the crooked glasses up her nose.
"Ash, you're… you're acting like a beast—"
"Don't say that," he muttered against her skin. "It's your fault."
"Oh? Is it my fault you're so hard right now you can't even think?"
He froze slightly, groaning.
"D-Don't talk about it—I know."
She smirked and tugged him closer by his waistband.
"Then do something about it, Mr. Beast."
He looked down at her, chest heaving, then whispered
"W-We don't… have a condom."
Celeste blinked.
Then laughed.
"God, you're adorable."
Ash's face flushed crimson.
"I'm serious..."
"I know, I know." She tugged his hair playfully. "Then again just don't shoot inside."
Ash looked like he was about to combust.
"..."
She leaned up, lips brushing his ear.
"Unless… you want to get me pregnant way too early."
Ash whined, actually whined, biting her shoulder in panic.
"No! I-I mean—I wouldn't mind—but not now—but also you shouldn't say things like that—"
She cackled, head tipping back against Ash's shoulder, her glasses slipping sideways as laughter shook through her.
"Oh gods, you're so easy to tease."
Ash growled low against her neck in response no words, just a bite, firmer this time, and then his mouth continued its descent: chest, ribs, stomach.
"Then shut me up," she dared.
And he did.
With his mouth.
Celeste gasped into his kiss, but he swallowed the sound. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, then bit—not harsh, just enough to make her moan and cling to his shoulders. He moved lower without pause, lips trailing fire along her throat, collarbone, then lower still.
"A-Ash—" she panted, fingers tangling in his hair.
But he didn't stop. He growled against her skin, kissing and biting like a starved man, marking a path down her chest with lips and tongue. Every suck left her shivering, every bite made her toes curl.
And still, she wanted more.
With a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, Celeste let one hand slide behind her, blindly searching for the seat lever. Her fingers brushed metal—and her grin widened.
Ash barely noticed, too focused on devouring the taste of her skin.
"Celeste…?" he mumbled, lifting his head slightly. "What are you—"
*Click.
The seat suddenly jerked backward with a loud snap and reclined completely, throwing them into a horizontal sprawl.
*Thump.
Her bare chest collided squarely with his face.
A strangled sound escaped him, part shock, part disbelief. His hands flew out to brace himself—gripping the seat on either side of her head as he stared down at her… or rather, into her.
Celeste blinked, breathless—and then laughed.
"Whoops."
Ash was too stunned to speak. His cheeks went redder than they'd ever been. He didn't even move—he was just… there, face-first against her breasts, hands trembling slightly.
Celeste bit her lip, holding back another laugh.
"Comfortable down there?"
Ash slowly peeled his face back, eyes wide, lips parted—and absolutely dazed.
"I—uh—I didn't mean to—" he stammered, his voice an octave too high. "You—your—uhm—hit my face."
"You hit my chest," she teased, poking his nose. "Equal damage."
Ash groaned and hid his face against her shoulder.
"I think I'm gonna die."
"Nope," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. "Not before I do."
And before he could recover, she rolled her hips upward—grinding just enough to make him gasp against her skin.
Ash's breath hitched. His grip tightened again.
Celeste chuckled, brushing her fingers through his damp hair.
"Still want to be the one taking the lead, Mr. Beast?"
Ash let out a low growl that sent chills down her spine.
"Don't tempt me."
She did anyway.
And he didn't hesitate.
.
.
.
Rowan had just stepped into the apartment, shaking his umbrella closed with a snap. He wasn't soaked—thankfully, he had driven home—but the rain was relentless, drumming heavily on the roof like it was trying to punch through.
He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door and slipped off his shoes, then took a glance around the quiet living room.
No sign of Celeste.
Frowning lightly, Rowan pulled out his phone.
6:12 PM.
"She should've been back by now…" he murmured.
His thumb hovered over her name, but he didn't press it—yet. Instead, he moved to the window. The city outside was blurred by sheets of rain. Headlights glowed dim behind the downpour, and thunder rolled faintly in the distance.
"She better not be running around in this storm without an umbrella again," he muttered, turning from the window.
.
.
.
Outside, the rain poured relentlessly, pounding the roof of the car in a deafening rhythm. It was a storm without pause—wild, unforgiving.
But inside, there was a different kind of storm.
The windows were fogged, the car rocking ever so slightly with each desperate motion. It was as if the storm outside dared to match the one between them—but inside, it was fiercer, hotter, unstoppable.
Rain roared.
Their moaned.
Celeste lay sprawled across the backseat, fully bare, skin flushed and damp from sweat. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath catching between moans that spilled freely from her lips. Her hair clung to her neck and shoulders, disheveled, wild—just like the storm.
And she still wore Ash's glasses.
Crooked on her face, slightly fogged up, they framed her heavy-lidded eyes in a way that nearly undid him.
Ash was above her, just as bare, moving with no restraint. His grip tightened around her waist, his back flexing with each motion. His breath hitched again and again, lips parted as a low, guttural sound escaped from deep in his throat.
"A-Ah…" Celeste gasped, barely able to form the word.
But nothing else followed. She couldn't say faster or harder. He already was. He didn't slow down, didn't ease up—just kept going, raw and relentless, like every piece of him needed to be closer to her.
Ash's face hovered over hers, flushed, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. His expression was wrecked—eyes dark with need, mouth slightly open as he moaned her name again and again, voice trembling and hoarse.
"Celeste—" he groaned, barely holding himself together. "You—God—you're driving me crazy—"
She only whimpered in response, too lost in sensation to speak, too full of him to breathe right. Her hands slipped up his back, nails lightly dragging along his skin, her legs instinctively curling tighter around his hips.
The car rocked beneath them—gentle, but steady—pushed by both the rain outside and the storm inside.
Ash leaned down, burying his face into her neck, letting out another sound that was more like a growl than a moan, hot breath brushing her skin.
Every inch of him moved like he was possessed—focused, feral, utterly consumed.
And Celeste could only take it.
Moaning.
Shaking.
Her voice rising with each thrust, each deep, full stroke that left her clinging harder and arching up against him, her cries muffled by the pounding rain.
He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes locking, chest heaving.
And even then, even through the haze of lust and the roar of the storm, Ash whispered—
"I'm not stopping."
Ash was moving so fast, so deep, his rhythm unrelenting. Her mind was reeling, her breath caught between moans and gasps. The storm outside had faded from her senses—drowned out by the storm inside her.
Ash's eyeglasses. sat crooked on her nose, slightly fogged, adding to the daze clouding her thoughts. Her body trembled beneath him, each motion sending waves through her core, her breath breaking apart with every thrust.
"A-Ash—!" she whimpered, legs tensing.
But he didn't slow. He only groaned—again and again—his voice cracking with each breath.
"Ugh—Cel—"
"Ugh—ah—"
His moans were deep, strained, full of raw heat. Every sound from him made her body respond, her own lewd cries matching his.
"I'm—close—" Celeste gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
Ash's reply was a desperate,
"Me too—hah—"
With just a few more urgent thrusts, he pulled out, and the moment he did, his release followed instantly, his breath catching as his manhood pulsed and throbbed.
But he didn't stop there.
Before she could even blink, Ash lowered himself, moving between her legs with no hesitation.
He kissed her womanhood—gently at first—then deeper, more deliberately.
Celeste cried out, her back arching.
"A-AH—!"
His tongue moved slowly at first, then with rising hunger. He licked her with long, purposeful strokes, tasting every inch of her. The heat of his mouth made her tremble, and her hands flew to his hair, clutching it as if she'd lose herself otherwise.
He groaned against her again, the sound vibrating through her body as his tongue continued its rhythm—lapping, circling, teasing every sensitive part of her.
Her hips bucked, breath shattering.
Ash dug his head deeper into her womanhood, devouring her completely.
All Celeste could do was moan louder, fingers tightening in his hair, her legs shaking around his shoulders.
"Ha— Ah—Ugh—!"
But words became meaningless.
All that remained was the feel of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, and the overwhelming crash of sensation that drowned her completely.
Outside, the storm raged on.
But nothing compared to what he was doing to her inside that car.
Ash pulled back just a little, lips brushing against her skin as he caught his breath. His mouth was warm, breath heavy, and then—without warning—he bit down gently on her inner thigh.
Celeste gasped, her body jerking in surprise.
His teeth weren't rough, but they were firm—marking her, claiming her.
Then he kissed the spot tenderly, as if in apology… or maybe in worship.
Still catching his breath, Ash glanced up at her—his face flushed, eyes burning with desire. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the eyeglasses still crooked on her nose. The sight of her like that—moaning, breathless, trembling—made something wild snap in him.
He couldn't wait anymore.
Without a word—without hesitation—he guided his manhood back into her womanhood.
A sharp moan escaped Celeste's lips the moment he entered. It was raw, unfiltered.
"Ah—Ash…"
Her body welcomed him instantly, clinging to him, pulling him in deeper. He let out a deep, guttural breath, burying himself to the hilt, his arms bracing on either side of her as he began to move again—slow at first, savoring the feeling.
Ash's rhythm grew wild—fast, relentless, his hips moving in a frantic rhythm that echoed through the fogged car. Every thrust came with a low, breathy moan from his lips.
"Ugh—"
"Ha… ah—"
His voice broke with each movement, full of desperation and pleasure tangled into one.
Celeste slipped off her glasses with one hand, holding them loosely.
She pulled him into a searing kiss, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She tilted her head and opened her mouth, her tongue finding his with urgency.
The moment their tongues met, Ash's entire body tensed. A guttural sound escaped him—half moan, half growl—as if that simple act lit a fuse inside him.
He thrust harder, matching each deep kiss with a deep movement, his manhood driving into her with unrelenting rhythm.
"Cel—Ah…" he gasped against her lips, only to be silenced as she kissed him again, not letting him speak. She kissed him like she didn't want him to breathe, like her lips were the only air he needed.
His hands cupped her face as he kissed back with just as much fire, as though he were trying to pour everything—his want, his need, his love—into her mouth.
Their bodies never stopped moving.
Celeste moaned into him, muffled by their joined lips, her sounds trembling as he filled her again and again. Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss every time he tried to pull back for breath.
Ash could barely keep his thoughts straight. The feeling of her around him, the taste of her tongue, the scent of her skin—it was all too much.
Still, he kissed her. Again. And again. And again.
His hips moved in a rhythm that matched their kiss—fast, needy, rough—but their mouths remained locked, lips brushing, tongues tangling, breath shared in broken gasps.
And in that moment, soaked in heat, tangled in each other beneath a roaring storm, it wasn't just lust driving them.
It was something far deeper.
Something neither of them could name.
.
.
.
The car was filled with the quiet hum of rain, still pouring steadily outside—a rhythmic backdrop to the silence that had settled between them.
In the hazy warmth of the backseat, their breathing was slow and uneven. Celeste lay beneath Ash, her body cocooned by his weight. His taller frame stretched across the cramped seat, but he didn't care. He had dropped onto her with a final gasp, his damp skin pressed to hers, too exhausted to move, too content to try.
The windows were fogged, the air thick with leftover heat and closeness. Outside, the storm had mellowed, but inside the car, the storm of them lingered.
Minutes passed like seconds.
Celeste's fingers lazily traced circles on Ash's back, her touch feather-light. He let out a soft breath against her neck, his cheek resting just below her collarbone, hair tangled and sticking from sweat and rain.
Eventually, Ash mumbled, voice low and sheepish, "We should probably move to the front… before someone walks by and sees a crime scene."
Celeste chuckled, sleepily.
"A crime scene?"
"I mean… maybe not a crime, but definitely not PG," he murmured, letting out a half-laugh as he peeled himself off her with reluctant effort.
Still naked, he reached the black outer layer of his office uniform that had been discarded earlier and helped wrap it gently around her. Celeste clutched it around herself, only partially hiding her smirk as she watched Ash squeeze into the front seat, awkwardly navigating the small space between seats in all his unclothed glory.
Celeste followed with far more ease, crawling over the middle console and settling right onto his lap in the driver seat—making Ash jolt slightly in surprise.
"Seriously…?" he whispered, flustered, his arms instinctively going around her waist.
Celeste rested her head on his bare chest, listening to the thud of his heart as her breath evened out. His chin rested lightly atop her head. She stayed curled on Ash's lap, the black outer layer of his uniform loosely draped around her like a cloak. His arms were still wrapped around her, his touch warm and steady, his heartbeat gently thudding beneath her cheek.
Around his neck, the silver pendant she'd given him rested just above her temple—cool against his flushed skin.
For a while, they stayed like that—naked, quiet, wrapped in each other and in the hush of the rain still falling outside.
But then…
Celeste shifted slightly.
Her fingers brushed the chain resting on his chest. Slowly, she slid her hand up and curled her fingers around the pendant. She tilted it forward, flipping it over between her fingers, and stared at the words she'd engraved on the back. Her lips curled.
"I should've engraved 'fuck me more'…" she muttered under her breath, pouting dramatically.
Ash choked—his entire body tensing beneath her.
"C-Cel—!"
She looked up, eyes wide with faux innocence, while her lower lip jutted out in the softest, most devilish pout.
"What?" she asked. "It would've matched your reaction earlier."
Ash groaned and threw his head back against the seat, the tips of his ears turning red.
"You're unbelievable…"
Celeste giggled, clearly pleased with herself.
Then she shifted again—intending to nuzzle back into him—but paused.
Her eyes widened.
"…Ash?" she asked sweetly, though the playful glint in her gaze was unmistakable.
Ash blinked down at her, wary.
"W-What?"
She moved just slightly in his lap—and smiled.
"You're… hard again," she said softly, her voice filled with amusement. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, his glasses still perched on her nose.
Ash immediately groaned, dragging his hand over his face.
"You noticed…?"
"How could I not?" she teased, pressing her palm against his chest, fingers brushing the edge of the pendant now resting slightly askew.
"You're the one who climbed on me," he mumbled weakly, still trying to hide his face.
"And you're the one reacting," she whispered with a grin.
Ash let out a helpless, shaky breath, but his arm around her waist only pulled her tighter.
"Cel," he warned gently, voice half-strained, half-melting.
She tilted her head, her smile deepening.
"You're so easy to tease, Ash."
He let out a weak laugh—warm, breathy, wrecked—then whispered,
"Only when it's you."
___________