Home | Darius & Roslyn
The light bulbs in the tiled room allowed for enough light to illuminate the space without irritating his eyes. He did not feel sore despite the fact he’d been fighting relentlessly all week, but he was wounded. Clever hunters, they knew how to arm themselves, he’d give them that much credit. Silver bullets, darts containing toxins to weaken that of his kind and of the wolves. Vervain was present in his veins, the poison lingering despite how quickly the vampire’s other wounds would heal. It weakened him, his steps were slower than normal, his heartbeat increased in his body’s attempt to push the poison out of his system. It did not work.
When he turned around his slave was there, cautious and filthy. She moved closer, fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, releasing them one by one till his chest became exposed. Occasionally she’d peer up at him, and he greeted her fleeting glances with approval, nodding for her to continue in her work. So she did, releasing him from his clothes stained with blood and coated in mud. They were ruined, just as her wardrobe was.
Then it was his turn. Careful fingers took hold of her tank top, slowly peeling the fabric from her skin, making sure not to brush against the wounds the hunter’s had inflicted. Perhaps not all was ruined, her lovely brazier seemed intact, but for now it must go. Releasing the clasp, he then traveled to her shoulders, taking hold of the straps there and gently coaxing them down her arms before discarding it on the floor. Her pants followed almost in the same fashion, dragged down her slender legs, the vampire resting in a crouching position as he pulled each foot free from the fabric’s hold.
Both bare, he raises to his feet, placing a cool hand to the small of her back, persuading her to move forward. “Come,” he says again as he slides the door of the shower open and pulls her in to join him.
The room was quiet just as the entire house was, only filled with the sounds of their breathing and hearts pumping blood through their veins. She worked at a acceptable pace, removing his clothes bit by bit, she frowned seeing the scars of cuts that had healed but had not faded away just yet. Still her hands were soft and warm as she freed him of his tattered clothes, they fell to the ground soundlessly and his nods of approval compelled her to remove his pants as well.
Soon enough his hands were repeating the same motions on her, she lifted her arms so he could pull the tank top from her skin and winced slightly, the pain medication she took had not settled all the way in just yet. But the pain was short lived and soon her dirtied skin was visible to them both, her dirty hair hung in strands and covered her breast as she looked down at him pulling her feet from her pants.
Both disheveled bodies walked toward the glass dome, and a slight tug on her wrist brought her inside with him, the door sliding shut and encasing them inside. For a moment she stood completely still, letting her eyes wander over his body before she spun and turned on the water, the warm stream of liquid flowed out and covered their bodies, slowly starting to free the dried dirt and mud from their skin.
Forward she walked until she was inches from him, the steam swirling around them in the glass shower. Grabbing the bar of soap to her left she lathered it in her hands before placing it back where she’d found it and began to run her slender digits over his chest, freeing it of the distasteful mud and letting his skin shine through. She did this silently, the water streaming on her back and hair, the tile beneath them swirling with discoloration. Her fingers were gentle as she worked, letting her palms memorize every curve they passed over.