Hearing screaming, Liam pushed through her door. The scent hit him first—musky, sweet, the thick perfume of sweat and sex. The sound followed: wet, rhythmic sucking, a low, desperate moan that was unmistakably Elena’s. Then the sight.

Lisa Chen was bent over Elena’s hips, her face buried between Elena’s thighs, her own bare ass arched high in the air toward the door. One of Lisa’s hands was braced around Elena’s leg, the other was working furiously between her own legs, fingers rubbing circles on her clit. Elena was sprawled back, head thrown into the pillows, back arched, her hands fisted in Lisa’s blue and pink streaked black hair. Her body was taut, trembling on the very edge.

Liam froze. What had he just walked in on? He didn’t expect Elena to be into women, or for the two of them to be lovers. His world narrowed to the heat of that bed, the animal truth of it. His need for possession filled him—a strong impulse formed into something hotter and more violent in his gut.

Elena’s eyes drifted toward the doorway. Glazed and unfocused, they found him. A slow, languid smile touched her lips. “Mr. Thorn,” she sighed, the name a wet, acknowledging purr. “You’re here.” As if he’d arrived for a cocktail. Her head arching back again at another wave of pleasure as Lisa’s mouth worked at her more. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, not to him, but to Lisa, endlessly working at her. The command was slurred, drunk on sensation.

Lisa certainly didn’t stop. If anything, her fingers moved faster, her own muffled groan vibrating against Elena’s skin. The obscenity of it—the complete dismissal of his presence, the total immersion in their shared pleasure—shattered his stillness. He now understood.

He moved. Three long strides across the room. His hand wrapped around Lisa’s shoulder, not rough, but implacable. He pulled her up and away. Her mouth came free with a slick, protesting sound. She blinked up at him, dazed, arousal burning in her dark eyes, her lips glistening. “Wha—?”

“Enough,” he said, the word a crack of ice. He shoved her sideways, onto the side of the bed. She tumbled onto her side, ragged heap, whimpering as she continued to rub between her legs.

Elena cried out, a sound of pure loss, her body convulsing as the promised climax was ruthlessly severed. She reached for the empty air where Lisa had been. “No…”

Liam turned to her. He gripped her shoulders, pressed her down into the sweat-damp sheets. Her skin was fever-hot. “Look at me.” Her green eyes swam, trying to find focus. The look he was all too familiar with. “Fuck, Eros!”

He released her. Both women were panting, a tangled, glistening mess of limbs and frustration on the bed. The room reeked of them. Liam’s mind, now cold and clicking, assessed the situation: Effects of Eros. They needed a reset, now! A harsh one.

He quickly entered the adjoining bathroom. He twisted the tub faucet, then the shower knob. Both were left on a punishing, semi-cold stream of water. He let them run, the water pounding a discordant rhythm.

Back in the bedroom, Lisa was trying to push herself up on trembling arms. He scooped her off the bed. She was slight, her body slick with sweat. She nuzzled into his suit jacket, mumbling something incoherent. He carried her into the bathroom and deposited her directly into the fillingl tub.

The cold water hit her. She gasped, a sharp, shocked inhalation that was the first sane sound he’d heard from her all night. Her eyes flew wide, the haze clearing into startled, humiliated awareness. She clutched the edges of the tub, shivering violently.

“Stay,” he commanded, and the Thorn authority was back, absolute. She stared up at him, naked and shrinking in the cold water, and nodded, mute.

As he returned to the bed. Elena had curled onto her side, her long brown hair a dark wave over her shoulder. Her hand was rubbing between her pressed legs. She watched him approach, her expression soft and wounded and still desperately wanting. He didn’t speak. He slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted her. She was pliant, her head lolling against his chest. Her heat seared through his clothes.

At the shower stall, he maneuvered her just inside the spray, holding her upright with one arm. With his free hand, he tore at his own clothes. His shirt hit the wet floor. His shirt buttons scattered. He kicked off his shoes, shoved his trousers and briefs down, stepping out of them without ever letting go of her. Quickly tossing them towards the countertop.

He joined her under the spray. Ensuring to help support and keep Elena from falling. The cold was a brutal slap against his body from above. He winced, his teeth clamping together. Elena jolted in his arms as the water hit her back, a sharp cry ripped from her throat. Her body stiffened, the sensual languor shattering. She began to shiver, great, racking tremors that he felt against his own chest. Her eyes, wide and startled now, lifted to his. Recognition, slow and dawning, and then a flood of horror beneath it.

He held her there, both of them naked under the cold, cleansing rain of the shower.

********************* - Recommended pausing point

Elena started to return to her senses. “What ha—” The realization of her body naked and pressed against his, stopped her terrified. The only thing keeping her moving was the shivering she was doing under the water.

“S-s-s-some o-on-e wa-a-nt to tell-l me wha-ats go-oi-ing on?” Lisa yelled from the bathtub, voice chattering between clattering teeth.

Without giving a straight answer, he said, “You both can get out of the water now. Grab a towel and dry off quickly.” His voice carried a commanding authority that Elena recognized all too well. He gently releases Elena, and she quickly steps away, going for the door to the shower to find a towel. The door closing behind her, she looked back, through the watered window, she could see his naked form blurred through the dripping water. Was he naked with me?

She then turns and sees Lisa’s naked body climbing out of the bathtub, shivering as she aims for the nearby towel. Giving her a hand, the two shiver wraped in their towel.

The shower door clicked open. Relizing Liam was exiting the shower, Elena turned away. She couldn’t look at him. Just thinking about his bare chest against hers under the spray was a brand on her skin. Her eyes found Lisa instead, who was blinking water from her lashes, her gaze darting past Elena’s shoulder to where Liam stood.

Lisa’s eyes went wide. Her mouth formed a soft, stunned ‘o’. She saw him—all of him—the powerful lines of his body, the water sluicing down his torso, the utterly unselfconscious authority in his stance. Her eyes flew to Elena’s, a silent, shocked question. Elena gave a minute, frantic shake of her head. No. Don’t. Don’t say anything!

Liam ignored the silent exchange. He stepped out onto the bathmat, water pooling at his feet, and yanked open a drawer beside the sink. He pulled out a thick, white towel. The sound of rough fabric against his skin was loud in the tiled room—a brisk, efficient scrubbing over his chest, his arms, the blunt strength of his thighs. He dried himself with the same focused precision he applied to everything.

He turned, the towel slung low on his hips. The two women stood shivering, their arms crossed over their chests, towels clutched like shields. Lisa’s teeth chattered. “C-can I take a hot shower now? To warm up?” Her voice was small, plaintive.

“No.” His denial stood strong, a door slamming shut. “If you warm up too fast, you will re-trigger the effects. Your bodies need to adjust gradually.” His blue eyes swept over them, clinical. “Get under the bed covers. Use each other’s body heat.”

They didn't argue. His voice held too much authority here. Elena and Lisa shuffled, hair dripping, from the bathroom into the cooler air of the bedroom. The plush rug felt warm under Elena’s feet. Together, they peeled back the heavy duvet and slid beneath, their wet towels abandoned on the floor. The sheets were shockingly cold, a fresh wave of shivering seizing them both. Instinctively, they turned toward each other, arms looping, legs tangling. Lisa’s skin was clammy. Elena pressed closer, seeking the faint warmth starting to bloom where their bodies met.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Lisa whispered, her voice hushed but urgent against Elena’s ear. Her breath was a warm puff in the chilling dark. “What happened to us?!? I mean, I remember, but I don’t understand how!” She then yelled to Mr. Thorn

From the bathroom came the sound of Liam’s continued, methodical drying. “You were drugged,” his voice answered, flat and clear through the doorway. “Eros. Its a drug that puts you into a similar state as being Intoxicated. You become Incoherent and extremely aroused. It’s a sex drug. Harmless, but can last for hours. The protocol to negate the drug is to trigger a light Hypothermic reaction.”

“Protocol?” Lisa shot back, emboldened by the blanket and the distance. “You threw me in a tub!”

“Cold immersion brings back lucidity. It worked.” A drawer slid shut. The rustle of fabric followed—the sound of him pulling on his trousers. Elena stared at the ceiling, tracking his movements by sound. The slide of a zipper. The click of a belt buckle.

“Why were you even in here?” Elena asked, the question escaping her in a thin breath.

“Screaming is not a normal noise in my manor. At least not from this side of the home.” He answers. The second sentance causing her insides to burn a little more in anger.

“How did it happen?!” She demanded, slowly returning normal feeling as Lisa’s naked body continued to press against hers.

“That, I don’t know. Eros is a drug, usually a liquid. Its smell needs to be inhaled or, for best effects, mixed with a humidifier. There are also methods to consume, but they must be in light doses, and it tends to taste disgusting. Very noticeable and not something someone you spike you with.” He finishes explaining. Then starts to walk towards the door.

“Hey! You better not be leaving! I have more questions! How do you know all this?”
She yells, watching as he approaches the door.

“I’m not leaving. It would be irresponsible to leave you two in this state.” He stated, with little annoyance shown in his monotone voice. He then steps to the door and takes one step out, reaching nearby. Through the gap in the door, Elena can see him grab a Bell and give it a good ring. Its chime a soft, melodic but piercing noise that seemed to echo through the manor. He then steps back inside. “Its because I made it. Or better phrasing, had it developed by my medical team.”

“Wh-what? You made it? Why?” Elena spoke up.

“I don’t know, El, that stuff was pretty fun aside from the whole getting spiked part. I never planned on doing that with you, but it definitely was something fun.” Lisa let out nonchalantly with her filter still gone, something she would probably never find.

Elena turned bright red. The thoughts of Lisa’s hands on her body. “No-no-no-no-no-no.” The sudden return of thoughts overwhelmed her.
Elena curled into a tight ball, her face buried in the cold pillow. Treating the covers like a cave, a tomb to seal away her embarrassment. The facts hit her in a nauseating wave: the desperate heat between her legs, Lisa’s mouth, her own shameless moans, Liam’s hands on her naked skin, the cold water, his naked chest pressed against her chest. A sob ripped its way out of her throat, muffled by the fabric. She shoved herself away from Lisa’s warmth, retreating to the far edge of the mattress, pulling the duvet over her head completely. The world was dark, damp, and smelled of her own shame.

Lisa flinched at the movement. “Elena?” Her voice was small, tentative. “Oh, god. El, I’m so sorry. I don’t… I didn’t mean to…”

Liam watched the lump under the covers tremble. He didn’t move toward her. Instead, he turned as a soft knock sounded at the bedroom door. “Enter.”

Presley stepped inside, his expression impeccably neutral. His eyes took in the scene—the two women in the bed, one a rigid mound of blankets, the other naked half out of the covers, the wet towels on the floor, his employer standing by the bed in a state of casual, post-shower dishevelment. Not a single muscle in Presley’s face twitched. “Sir.”

“The girls were dosed with Eros.” Liam’s voice was a low, dangerous wire. “I want the entire staff searched. Now. Anyone who prepared their dinner, delivered their wine, cleaned this room, or entered it after midday. I want their pockets checked, their quarters tossed. I want to know how a vial of one of my own compounds ended up in my home.”

“Understood, sir.” Presley gave a shallow bow. “I will handle it personally.”

“Make sure you do.”

Presley withdrew, closing the door with a soft, final click. The silence was thick, broken only by the ragged, hitching breaths coming from Elena’s cocoon and the patter of rain against the windows.

Lisa wrapped her arms around her knees, staring at the shape of her friend. “Elena, please talk to me. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I was so out of my head, but I remember it *perfectly*.” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

From under the covers came a raw, choked sound. “Stop. Just stop saying that.” Elena’s voice was shredded, muffled. “You didn’t force me. I was… I was right there with you. I wanted it. I was begging for it.” The admission was a torment. She dug her fingers into her scalp.

Liam walked to the foot of the bed. He stood there next to her, gripping his fists, his knuckles white. “The drug heightens your physical senses. It is designed to boost arousal and help remove inhibitions.” His tone was straightforward, detached. “It was never intended to be used in this manner.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lisa snapped, her guilt sharpening into anger directed at him.

Elena threw the covers off. Her face was blotchy, tear-streaked, her beautiful hair a tangled mess. Her green eyes were pools of pure, furious humiliation. “You made it. You just said you *made* this… this poison. This is your fault!”

“It is a tool. A profitable one. There are always drugs on the street; my goal is to make them safe. However unfortunatly i cannot control how it is sometimes used, as much as we try. Its presence in my home, used against my…” He paused, a light flash of anger crossing his face. “Against people in my own home, it’s an act of war. Not some mistake.”

“Act of war?” Lisa echoed, her gaze darting between Elena’s devastated face and Liam’s impassive one. “Elena, what is he talking about?”

Elena ignored her. Finally slipping out of the covers, she stared at Liam, her chest heaving. “You were naked. With me. In the shower.”

“You were incapacitated and slipping. You needed assistance, and I wasnt going to let you stay under those effects. Modesty is irrelevant in a medical emergency.”

It felt so nice. The thoughts rang out before she could stop them, whispered and hot.

“I was trying to keep you conscious. Keeping you alive. Would you have preferred I let you drown in your own pleasure until your heart gave out?” He asked.

Elena flinched as if struck. Lisa looked away, the intimacy of the exchange too much to witness.

Liam straightened, His face pulling the mask back into place. “You both should get some more rest—” His voice cuts off as he looks at the bed. Quickly, he was suddenly moving forward, spanning the gap between himself and the bed in just a few steps. With one hand, he gripped the bedding, pulling it up to his nose. With a sniff of the bedding, he exclaims, “Fuck!” He grips and yanks in one large pull the duvet and sheets straight off the bed. Revealing the two women naked. Without even a glance at them, he steps away. “Get dressed in the robe and something warm. These sheets are how they did it. Someone poured it into the bedding. I will have new bedding brought up shortly.” He continues to gather the bedding together into one cluster in his arms. “Please, make sure to get some rest.” He let out with an exhausted sigh.

He took their silence as compliance. Turning and walking to the door. His hand was on the knob when her voice, small and broken, stopped him.

“Who would do that? Who would want to… to do this to us?”

Liam looked back, seeing Elena. She was sitting up, holding a pillow in front of her naked body, utterly exposed in her misery. His eyes held hers, and in his blue depths she saw no comfort, only a grim dark sadness. “Someone who would love to see me fall.” He opened the door. “Get warm. I have a staff to interrogate.”

The door closed behind him. The lock engaged with a soft, definitive thud.

For a long moment, neither woman moved. Then Elena crumpled, folding in on herself, silent sobs shaking her shoulders. Lisa hesitated, then slowly, carefully, moved across the bed. She didn’t try to hug her. She just sat beside her, her hand barely touching her back, a silent witness to the wreckage.

The storm outside continued to rumble away; little cracks and thunder could be heard lightly from outside. Presley brought up new bedding shortly after Mr. Thorn left, and after throwing it quickly onto the bed, the two girls slipped in together.

The sheets were clean and cold. Elena lay stiff between them, listening to Lisa’s breathing and stirring beside her. Her mind racing, humming with a draining tension of the effects. Every time she closed her eyes, the film reel played: Lisa’s tongue, her own arched back, the slick, desperate shouting. Then the cold water. Then his chest, bare and solid, pressed against her naked form.

She turned her head into the pillow. It smells clean and fresh. Nothing of him. Nothing of the night. The sterility washed away all the previous smells.

The memories weren’t just visual. They were a physical echo. The ache of wanting. The warm hum of her own body under Lisa’s fingers, and how she remembered his before. Her own moan, loud and unhinged, echoed in the vault of her skull.

And underneath it, the other memory. The shower. The shocking cold, yes. But first, the strong heat from him. His arms locked around her, supporting her upright. The full, hard plane of his torso was plastered to her breast and cheek. His breath in her hair. Breathe, Elena. A command. A lifeline. Her head had lolled back against his shoulder. His skin had been the only anchor in the dizzy spin.

It felt so nice.

The confession, whispered earlier, now screamed inside her. She dug her nails into her own palms. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction, even with its little effect.

She saw his hands. The ones capable of giving her pain. The sting of his palm on her backside, the warmth that spread afterward. The ones that had spanked her until she wept. The same ones in the shower. One splayed across her back, holding her steady. The other… she couldn’t remember where the other was. Just the feeling of being completely enveloped. Held. Possessed. Her own body was a traitor. It remembered everything. It even started to crave the things her mind recoiled from.

Lisa shifted in her sleep, murmuring. Elena froze. She felt a jolt. Her friend’s unconscious touch is now making her worry about the earlier night’s effect returning.

Sleep tugged at her mind, but her mind interrupted it with a blinding gallery. Flashing images, each more mindful than the last. His blue eyes were in the boutique, watching her model the swimsuit. His eyes. Admiring.

The deep cut on his chest in the alley, the stark red against his white shirt, her hands pressing down, feeling the strong beat of his heart under her palms.

She needed to move. To break the spiral. Carefully, she slid out from the covers. The marble floor was ice under her bare feet. She paced to the window, the robe hanging loose around her still nude form. The storm was passing. A dark, blanketing cloud covered the sky, and pre-dawn light bled through the clouds. The calm was returning.

The emotions inside her were not.

Resting her forehead against the cold glass, she exhaled. Her breath fogged a small circle. In it, she traced a line—a downward curve with its own sharp edges.

A thorn.

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(- M. Arius K. - The creator and guide of this story.)