He sets her down on the edge of the tub and doesn't even bother to step out of the way before he starts peeling off his wet shirt, stood right between her legs.
He drops the shirt to the floor with a wet sound as it hits the tile. His skin is streaked with leftover muck, a gray wash that catches in the lines of his abs and pools in his belly button. His fingers go to the lacing on his pants.
“For at least a little longer, fortunately.” He makes space for her when he can, politely avoiding getting in her way. “I’m looking forward to a bath with you…”
"I'm looking forward to putting my mouth on clean skin," she says with a soft laugh. "You really did make sure to get absolutely covered. It's impressive."
“It was impressive how far that beast could spew itself,” Clive remarks, shoving his trousers down on his hips. Look, it’s even in his cum gutters. “Worse than a Morbol.”
“Even after the hose?” He looks down at himself. Alright, maybe it’s worse than he thought. “Perhaps I ought to just go in the washing machine with the clothes.”
Clive chuckles under his breath even as he jumps, and he follows her the few steps across the bathroom just to continue to be near. And, he supposes, he should finish getting his pants and socks off.
He hums under his breath, then remembering he has to get his trousers off over it. He leans a shoulder against the wall so he can lift some weight off that foot and peel the leather over the wound. In the stark light of the bathroom, it looks worse than he thought. Not too deep, just a long slash through a thin layer of fat. No sliver of muscle peeking through.
"It could use a good bandaging, but no stitches," he says. "It should be quick."
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"I'm easily swayed, at least."
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"Out of your clothes, please."
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"Yes, my lady."
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Both at the feel of his muscle beneath her palms and the bulge she spies in his pants.
"Very nice."
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“I’m glad my body pleases you.”
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"Even when wet and filthy," she teases.
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"One moment," she says, hands on his hips to help her stand. She goes to the sink, opens a drawer, and pulls out a washcloth. And then a second.
She's going to have to scrub him.
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“I thought you’d just use your hands.”
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"I don't think my hands will be enough."
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"Hmm. I don't think you'd fit, my love."
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“Bigger washing machine in a bigger house, then?”
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"I might enjoy scrubbing your skin from your flesh. You might, too. Only one way to find out."
As she heads back to the tub to turn on the faucet, she gives his bottom a smack.
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"I would be fleshless for you."
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"No, thank you," she says. "I will do my best to be gentle. Especially with your thigh. I still want to look at it."
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"It could use a good bandaging, but no stitches," he says. "It should be quick."
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"You think it will be fine in the water?"
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"Bath. I need you clean."
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“In the tub, then.”
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