Steamline

Heat, filtration, steam pressure-the quiet machinery of a private onsen that occupies the top floors of a converted warehouse. He is twenty-seven, lean, precise, and used to being invisible. Rhys Okonkwo is the opposite: the owner, massive, silver-templed, and used to owning every inch of the building he walks through. For six months they have orbited each other in empty corridors and locked suites after hours. One night Rhys decides the careful distance is over.A diagnostic request. An early security sweep. A locked cedar door and the simple order to stay longer. What begins as another stolen hour becomes a thorough, relentless claiming-size-gap, public risk, the kind of ownership that fills him and keeps him full while the rest of the building sleeps. Rhys does not ask Finn to leave before morning. He does not ask him to leave at all.