The rain hammered down relentlessly outside the ramshackle hut, a relentless drumbeat that drowned out the distant rumble of the landslide that had stranded them here.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and smoldering wood from the chimney fire Rhea had managed to coax to life.
The old man who owned the place had shuffled off to his back room hours ago, muttering something about letting the 'young ones' handle their own survival, leaving Rhea alone with Ling Kwong's limp, shivering form sprawled on a bed of dried grass covered by a threadbare blanket.
Ling's head wound had stopped bleeding, the gash above her temple crusted over, but her body trembled violently, skin pale and clammy from the soaking they'd endured.
Rhea felt it when she shifted closer — the unmistakable tremor running through Ling's body. Not fear. Not pain.
Cold.
Their clothes were still soaked, clinging, stealing heat faster than the fire could give it back.
Rhea froze.
She knew what had to be done.
She also knew what it meant.
For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at Ling's pale face, at the bandage around her head, at the rise and fall of her chest that felt far too fragile for someone who ruled everything else.
"Don't make this harder than it is," Rhea whispered to herself.
Her hands shook when she reached out.
Careful. Practical. Nothing else.
Ling's sports bra clung transparently to her toned chest, outlining the firm swell of her breasts and the hard peaks. The charcoal pants she wore were plastered to her muscular thighs, the fabric heavy and unyielding.
Rhea knelt beside her, heart pounding with a mix of fury and something she refused to name—concern? No, that was weakness.
Ling Kwong was the enemy, the symbol of everything her Mom wanted destroyed. Yet here she was, pulse racing as she watched Ling's chest rise and fall in shallow, uneven breaths.
"Fuck this", Rhea muttered under her breath, her voice a low hiss in the flickering firelight.
Her own clothes were no better— the crop top exposed her midriff, now goosebumped and slick, her shorts riding up her full hips, and Ling's oversized jacket did little to ward off the chill seeping into her bones.
The old man's words echoed in her mind: 'Keep her warm, girl.
Rhea knew body heat's the only thing that'll save Ling now.' Rhea's fingers hovered over the hem of Ling's sports bra, hesitating.
This was insane.
Touching her like this, stripping her... it was intimate, invasive.
But Ling's shivers were worsening, her lips tinged blue, and Rhea cursed again, louder this time.
"Damn you, Kwong". "Why couldn't you just stay in your perfect little tower?"
With trembling hands, Rhea gripped the edge of the sports bra and peeled it upward slowly, inch by inch. The wet fabric resisted, sticking to Ling's skin like a second layer, but Rhea tugged gently, revealing the flat plane of Ling's stomach first—those sculpted abs she'd glimpsed during the basketball game, now glistening with rainwater and sweat.
Rhea's breath caught; she hated how her eyes lingered on the defined ridges, the way they flexed subtly even in unconsciousness.
Higher still, the bra lifted over Ling's ribs, exposing the undersides of her breasts—pert and full, nipples erect from the cold, a deep rosy hue against her pale skin. Rhea swallowed hard, forcing her gaze away as she finally pulled the bra free, tossing it aside with a wet slap against the hut floor.
Ling didn't stir, but a soft groan escaped her lips, her body arching faintly as the chill hit her bare torso.
Rhea's cheeks burned—not from the cold, but from the sight of Ling like this, vulnerable, stripped down to nothing but her pants and that unyielding aura even in sleep.
"You're not getting away with this," Rhea whispered fiercely, more to herself than to Ling.
"I'm not doing this because I care. It's survival. That's all."
Her fingers moved to the waistband of Ling's pants next, fumbling with the button. It popped open with a soft click, and Rhea slid the zipper down, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet hut.
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and tugged downward, the pants sliding over Ling's hips with effort, revealing the black boxer briefs underneath—simple, functional, hugging the curve of her pelvis and the V of her thighs. Rhea's hands brushed against Ling's skin as she worked the pants lower, over the swell of her ass, firm and rounded from years of athletic training. The fabric peeled away, exposing long, lean legs corded with muscle, calves defined and strong.
Rhea's own body reacted traitorously—a warmth pooling low in her belly at the unintended intimacy. She yanked the pants off completely, leaving Ling in just her briefs, her body now fully exposed to the fire's glow, shadows dancing over every curve and hollow.
Then Rhea stood, stripping off her own clothes with hurried efficiency, cursing the whole time.
"Stupid, stupid idea. What if she wakes up? What if she thinks—"
She shrugged out of Ling's jacket first, then peeled the crop top over her head. Her waist chain glinted as she unfastened her shorts, shimmying them down her voluptuous hips, the fabric dragging over her thick thighs. Underneath, her lace panties. She kicked the clothes aside, standing naked now except for the piercings that adorned her—nose ring catching the light, navel piercing winking, the faint outline of others hidden for now.
Naked and exposed, Rhea lowered herself onto the grass beside Ling, pulling the blanket over them both as she drew Ling's shivering body against her own. Skin to skin, the contact was electric. Ling's bare back pressed to Rhea's front, her ass nestling against Rhea's crotch, the heat of their bodies mingling immediately. Rhea wrapped an arm around Ling's waist, pulling her closer, her hand splaying over those abs uncovered. Ling's skin was feverish now, warming under Rhea's touch, but the shivers persisted.
"Come on, you idiot," Rhea murmured, her lips brushing Ling's shoulder accidentally. "Stop shaking. I can't... I won't let you die out here."
As minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Rhea's mind raced.
The hut's walls seemed to close in, her claustrophobia a distant hum thanks to the open space and the fire, but Ling's presence grounded her in a way nothing else had.
She traced idle patterns on Ling's stomach with her fingertips, feeling the muscles twitch under her touch.
Ling's breathing evened out slowly, her body relaxing into Rhea's embrace, one leg hooking over Rhea's thigh unconsciously, pulling them even tighter together.
"Why do you have to feel like this?" Rhea whispered, her voice husky with frustration.
"All sharp edges and soft heat. I hate you for it."
The fire crackled, embers popping, and outside the storm raged on. Rhea lay there, body entwined with her enemy's, denying the pull. Ling's scent—clean sweat and something uniquely her, like polished leather and rain—filled Rhea's senses. She pressed her face into Ling's hair, inhaling deeply, her lips parting against the strands.
"Sleep, Kwong. Just sleep. Tomorrow, we'll fight again. You'll hate me, and I'll hate you right back." But even as she said it, her heart betrayed her she wanted Ling to wakeup and taunt her back but she wouldn't admit to needing.
Time blurred. Rhea's eyes grew heavy, but sleep evaded her, her mind a whirlwind of memories—
The changing room pin,
Noses brushing,
Heat in Ling's eyes;
The pool rescue,
Strong arms lifting her;
The elevator terror,
And Ling's bloody fists.
Vulnerability cracked Ling's armor, and now, in this hut, Rhea held the pieces.
Ling stirred faintly, brows knitting, a soft sound leaving her throat.
"I'm here," Rhea said quickly, pressing her palm to Ling's shoulder. "It's okay."
She wrapped the blanket tighter around them both, pulling Ling close, skin to skin beneath the rough wool, sharing what heat she had.
Ling's body slowly responded — the shaking softened, breaths evening out.
Ling rested her forehead against Rhea's neck , Rhea's eyes closing for just a second.
"This doesn't mean anything," she whispered fiercely, as if Ling could argue. "This is just… necessary."
The fire crackled.
Outside, the storm raged on.
Inside, two enemies clung to warmth, boundaries blurred by cold, blood, and the quiet truth neither of them was ready to face.
Rhea stayed awake.
Holding Ling.
Waiting for morning.