Of Lorenz Theory & Love

Titanium

5 Titanium

5:20 am, Madalena Village, Azores, Epicenter Pico No. 23, Hot Tub then Master Bathroom Shower

"Do you like it?" Harry uttered in her ear.

"Fuck yes," she whispered, grinding her hips into him, causing him to groan with pleasure.

"Gods, woman" he whispered. Recovering a bit, he whispered about making their way to the shower. Macy assented, using telekinesis to conjure a beach towel from the main entrance way ("Good girl" he muttered). Drying themselves off, they entered back through the screen door, carefully laying the wet towel on what resembled an ecru-colored faux leather beachfront barstool chair, and placed Macy's cell phone on the kitchen counter.

Just then, Harry's muscular arms swept Macy off her feet, and she found herself straddling him and kissing his brown wavy locks, as he carried her into the master bathroom glass-enclosed shower, laden with titanium fixtures, including a strongly-powered showerhead that had a most....suggestive...appearance, Harry mused to himself. He gently placed Macy back on her feet, and they disrobed each other, in an spontaneous-yet somewhat-methodical manner—Harry rained a slow-but-steady mountain of kisses down Macy's shoulders, as he unclipped her dark olive green bikini top, and tenderly freed strands of her coiled tresses that had inadvertently woven themselves around the straps, much like the inveigling of ivy branches around the sturdy oaken trees he was accustomed to back in England.

5:30 am, Madalena Village, Azores, Epicenter Pico No. 23, Master Bathroom Shower

After the shower tap had been turned to a warm/hot setting by Macy, and the bathroom door securely closed and locked (just because), by Harry, who wasn't taking any chances after the Marisol mirror incident, he entered the enclosed glass and inspected the showerhead further, with an inquisitive expression.

Unlike most wide-headed showerheads, this titanium fount had a feminine-grip handle (Macy had slender hands—not to be mistaken with fragile, by any means), 2-inch girth, and was roughly 10 inches long. The first three inches were the grip handle, and the remaining seven inches, well. Of the seven inches, the water sprang from the tip (1 inch), which bore a startling resemblance to—he looked down at his own circumcised anatomy—him.

"Ahem." Harry looked up to see Macy entering the now-fogged glass shower, giving him a shy-yet-enigmatic expression.

"I custom-ordered it ages ago after 3-D printing a makeshift prototype," she remarked, attempting to be casual. "Ever since my encounter with Dark Harry, I'd realized that though I chose you, the whitelighter, I also wanted to explore how you felt—every inch of you. Of course, that was all before these past two weeks. Are you"—she hesitated, averting his gaze—"sufficiently weirded out?"

Harry gently lifted Macy's visage upward, to meet his eyes, which were the most dilated (and smoldering) Macy had ever seen; the tops of their foreheads met. "Macy—Marcella Yesenia—Vaughn," he declared in a low growl that made Macy's spine tingle, "you are the most brilliantly seductive minx I have ever met in my life."

Macy smiled slowly, somewhat relieved. "You've done your research, I see."

"Just an educated guess—but we'll save that for tomorrow, shall we?" Harry murmured, as he stroked her cheekbone in a single caress.

Macy nodded. There's always a proper time and place. On a whim, she gathered up vanilla honey-scented bath wash from a bottle laying on the adjoining shelf, and began lathering up Harry's broad and angular chest. She had always dreamed of this moment, post-Dark Harry, but when reality hit and her whitelighter Harry was in front of her, she was a bit lost as to what to do. She slowed the lathering—their eyes met for what seemed to be a very pregnant pause—which broke when their lips crashed together in a sudden burst of unbridled passion as their arms swam around each other, her tongue meeting his, as she felt her backbone sidle up against the misted glass in the next half-second. Between glass and a hard place. Her vastly overthinking-borderlining-on-pathological tendencies were booted off the proverbial cliff, and between biting each other's necks and alternately kissing those erogenous areas, she found herself wanting much more.

5:40 am, Madalena Village, Azores, Epicenter Pico No. 23, Master Bathroom Shower to Master Bedroom

While swirling Harry's hair and tracing his profile with her finger to his lips with her left hand and kissing him, she simultaneously placed her right hand on Harry's member, stroking it slowly (it was downright perpendicular at this point), and she could see the slightest bit of silvery-white emanating from its round-edged tip. She bit her lip, thinking of all the ways she could drive him positively mad.

Harry pinned Macy's right hand above her head, nibbling her neck, to her utter enjoyment. In one deft move, he then turned off the shower tap, and, lifting her up so that she was straddling him, proceeded to carry her over the marbled bathroom threshold into the simple-yet-sophisticated master bedroom (he detected a giggle or two coming from her), both of them tumbling just so onto the king bed's Egyptian 800 cotton threadcount sheets.