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[noburden]

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[rosarianoath]

“I hope you do not intend to spray my cock,” he says. It’s not quite a warning. “The pressure on this is quite something.”

He will percolate on revenge in the meantime.

[noburden]

Another laugh, water at his heels.

"As tempting as that is, I do think that particular area should be washed by hand."

And in case he doesn't get it, she adds: "My hand."

[rosarianoath]

Founder, that’s cold. He rolls his shoulders, his shirt clinging to his back, near transparent. This sucks, but her cheer wears off on him, and he expects to feel a whole lot more than her hand.

“Depending on how that goes, I may stay my revenge plans.”

[noburden]

"You know what tends to happen, Clive Rosfield," she says with a coy smile. "Now, turn around and cover your face."

She'll fight her demons and not shoot him in the dick.

[rosarianoath]

“I’m supposed to be the one making love to you after this,” he says, turning slowly, eye on her nozzle. He braces himself and lifts an arm to shield his eyes. “Mind the thigh.”

[noburden]

"Who said you won't?"

Even in the dark, she knows where his eyes went before covering them. How tempting to be a terror, but alas, she's careful to both be quick and not full on spray him in the face as she rinses him off.

"I'll clean that once we're inside," she says, more serious. "I hope it just needs bandages, not stitches."

[rosarianoath]

“Busy night,” he remarks, briefly gritting his teeth against the spray, and he lowers his arm as she works her way down. “I think it’ll be okay… another scar at worst.”

[noburden]

"It might be morning by the time we get to the bed," she says, watching as the water continues to wash away his adventure. The smell is either much improved, or she's gone noseblind.

"I just want to be sure you're not bleeding when we get around to the lovemaking."

[rosarianoath]

“Ideally there is no blood,” he replies. “But I’d sooner have you than get stitched up.”

He’s also cold, as evidenced by his nipples making wet tents in his near-transparent shirt.

[noburden]

She knows. She gives him a bemused look, spraying down his shins, his feet.

"I will be distracted by the blood of my beloved, and the mood will be lost."

Seemingly satisfied with his cleanliness, at least at this stage, she motions for him to come closer.

[rosarianoath]

"When it's your blood, it's not a problem," he replies, without skipping a beat, and he comes closer to her. His face and hair remains the worst of the mess, and he deliberately steps into her space like he might try to kiss her.

[noburden]

"That's different, and you kn--oh, Clive," she groans, leaning away with a laugh as he invades her bubble. A part of her would love to call his bluff and kiss him, but he really is too gross right now.

"Here," she says, turning the nozzle so the spray won't wash his flesh off the bone. "Wash your face."

[rosarianoath]

“Yes, my lady.”

He grins —- lighter, swept up in the moment —— and takes the hose. He steps back, just enough to spare her the worst of the spray, and he doubles over to start showering his hair and his face without dripping the muck over the rest of him.

[noburden]

The flash of teeth through the mess makes her laugh anew. Stepping back and letting him take over, she has no choice but to watch.

"Is it strange that I still find you very handsome, even like this?"

[rosarianoath]

“I don’t know what would keep you off me,” he says, muffled by the gurgle of water and gunk streaming from his hair as he rakes his fingers through it. It’s too dark to tell if the water runs clear, so he carries on for good measure. “Just blood, is it?”

[noburden]

"Blood. Vomit, that one time. I thought that was the worst you've ever smelled..."

This is a new high.

[rosarianoath]

“I don’t even recall when that was,” he says, and he straightens up, dripping everywhere. He shakes his head like a dog and his wet hair sticks to his face anyway.

He looks at her, finger still on the nozzle trigger.

[noburden]

"Best you recall as little as possible from that time." Jill smiles at him, and it grows as she shakes himself off.

As he looks at her, the smile falters as her eyes drift back to the hose.

He wouldn't.

Jill holds her hand out for the hose.

[rosarianoath]

His smile grows mischievous, and he takes a beat to consider it, but he hands it back over.

[noburden]

Jill laughs and takes the hose. Close one.

She, however, isn't a coward and quickly squirts him with a spray of water to his chest.

[rosarianoath]

Clive, already wet and with little else to lose, takes this blow to the chest with a laugh, and then moves in for a bear hug.

[noburden]

Knowing he'd do just that, she drops the hose to the grass and fully embraces him, laughing.

"Ah! You're cold," she squeals. "And now you've gotten me wet. What are we to do with you?"

[rosarianoath]

He snorts, momentarily closing his eyes and lifting her against him, just to feel her body up against his.

“You take me inside and get me out of these soaked clothes,” he rumbles.

[noburden]

For the lift, he gets a quick peck on the lips.

It's cold and a little sticky.

"I think you're right. Upstairs, then?"

[rosarianoath]

“Yes,” he murmurs, reluctantly setting her on her feet again, but not without a cheek briefly pressed against hers. There’s still gunk behind his ears, caught in the roots of his hair, under his fingernails. He doesn’t care. The smell is long gone to him. It’ll be fine.