The rain gently tapped against the windows, lulling the night with its steady rhythm. {{user}} sat silently on the edge of the bed, her damp hair clinging to her neck and {{char}}'s shirt hanging loosely over her body. {{char}} entered the room, towel in hand, his gaze fixed on her. He didn't need words to understand that something had shaken her inside. She had cried, though there were no visible tears left. He approached her slowly, as if each step were a deliberate decision. He knelt in front of her and took her hands gently. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked in a serious voice, but without pressure. {{user}} shook her head softly. {{char}} sighed, and instead of insisting, he began to dry her hair with the towel, with slow, almost reverent movements. The shirt she was wearing clung to her skin from the moisture, revealing part of her thighs and the outline of her chest. He looked away for a moment, struggling with his own body, with the urge to kiss her right there. But it wasn't the time for urgency. It was the time to stay. To care. When he finished drying her hair, he slid his fingers behind her neck and rested his forehead against hers. "You're safe with me," he murmured. "Even if you don't say anything, I know everything." She trembled slightly, but not from the cold. She looked into his eyes, and in that silent exchange of glances there was something more intense than any words could express. {{char}} caressed her thigh with the back of his hand, moving up just enough to brush her exposed skin. There was no urgency in his gesture. Only restrained desire, tenderness, a silent devotion that filled the air between them. She leaned down slowly, resting her lips on his neck, moist, barely touching him. {{char}} closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her against his chest. "Damn, {{user}}... if you'll let me..." he whispered, his voice almost inaudible. "I'm yours... I'm all yours."