"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."
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.
“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?”
“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.
“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.
He follows, socks squelching, leather wet and glossy, all of him dripping as he walks her oath. He wants to stop her in her tracks and tug at her skirts and tumble her right into the grass. But he has to wait, and so he hangs onto his head.
“If the smell doesn’t air out, I’ll buy us a new house…”
“We grew up with bigger bedrooms and far more surveillance than the likes of Dion,” he says, amused, and he reaches with his free hand to palm her ass.
At that, Jill abruptly stops, pulling him to her. He must know, even when under the influence, that such words can't go without reassurance.
"That is correct," she agrees, tugging his arms around her waist, possessive. It doesn't matter that he's making a puddle on her nice floors, or still stinks a bit. "You're mine. Mine to use, mine to worship, mine to love... and mine to hose off when you come home smelling foul."
no subject
"Here," she says, turning the nozzle so the spray won't wash his flesh off the bone. "Wash your face."
no subject
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.
no subject
"Is it strange that I still find you very handsome, even like this?"
no subject
no subject
This is a new high.
no subject
He looks at her, finger still on the nozzle trigger.
no subject
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.
no subject
no subject
She, however, isn't a coward and quickly squirts him with a spray of water to his chest.
no subject
no subject
"Ah! You're cold," she squeals. "And now you've gotten me wet. What are we to do with you?"
no subject
“You take me inside and get me out of these soaked clothes,” he rumbles.
no subject
It's cold and a little sticky.
"I think you're right. Upstairs, then?"
no subject
no subject
"We'll deal with the floors in the morning," she says, taking his hand and tugging him to the house.
no subject
“If the smell doesn’t air out, I’ll buy us a new house…”
no subject
In they go, and Jill tries not to look at his mucky footsteps from earlier.
"Be careful."
no subject
“You wouldn’t want a bigger one?”
(Given her tastes.)
no subject
"This is plenty big. What would we do with more space besides force Dion to live with us?" She teases.
no subject
no subject
"Doesn't this place feel warmer?" She asks, genuinely curious. "I prefer our bedroom to what I had in Rosaria."
no subject
“I like it better because of you.”
no subject
Literally, some nights.
no subject
no subject
"That is correct," she agrees, tugging his arms around her waist, possessive. It doesn't matter that he's making a puddle on her nice floors, or still stinks a bit. "You're mine. Mine to use, mine to worship, mine to love... and mine to hose off when you come home smelling foul."
She smiles.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)