For her part, Vex has no problem taking over as the face of their little breakout party. She has no problem doing the talking for her people in general—prefers it, even. As much as they would say there's no leader in their little group, when there's a need for plans or for someone to speak on their behalf, it was usually Vex.
Nice to have that appreciated for a change.
"Lucky for you to have me around to negotiate for you," she says, mildly enough for it not to sound insulting, but still full of a certain bravado. The ale isn't hurting there.
On impulse, she reaches for his lapel, tugging playfully.
"I should have seen if I could get them to include washing this."
"Consider me grateful." In the short time he's known her, Vex has come off as the de facto head of this little group. She controls the coin, does the negotiating, and isn't shy about sharing her opinion on what they should be doing with their time. It holds here as well
When she comments on his clothing, he groans - not in a sexy way, without any blushing. "I'd ask them to burn it, if I had anything to replace it with. I'm not sure any of my clothing is salvageable."
And then there's a room with inset shelves for storing clothing and weapons whilst bathing. Percy turns away from Vex, hoping to give her a bit of privacy, and folds each item he takes off before setting it away. He's dawdling, he knows, taking too much time to pull off his boots so he doesn't have to unbutton his shirt, but the conversation around his torso is never a pleasant one - and things have been strangely pleasant so far. He'd love for them to stay that way.
Eventually, he ends up stripped down to the skin, wrapping a towel around his waist for modesty, and decides the best option is likely to pretend there's nothing notable about his appearance. Vex might ask, but she'll have to be the one to bring up the ugly terrain of scarred flesh, every cut on his body too straight and clean to be naturally acquired. Affecting a bright voice, he turns back to her and starts walking toward the door into the bathing area. "Shall we?"
He'll find that Vex isn't especially shy, not about her own body, nor about looking at someone else's. Whether or not Percy looks, she doesn't try to hide. Her clothes come off and are tucked away, revealing long, tan limbs and toned curves. She watches him out of the corner of her eye to see if he notices.
She also looks out of the corner of her eye to see him, filthy as he is, and pauses when she starts counting the scars. She's not open in studying them, but she does take in the sight, gaze flicking up to Percy's profile while she reconsiders what she knows about the man.
She follows his lead, wrapping a towel around her body though it barely makes it as far as her legs.
"Of course, darling," she says, her voice natural. If the scars bother her, she doesn't show a sign of it. "One moment."
The last thing she does is take down her hair, tucking the feather that adorned her braid safely away among her clothes before unraveling her braid across her shoulder.
He can feel her eyes on him, he thinks - but he has the feeling he'd have that same crawling sensation even with her back to him. It'll pass, he knows. Eventually, she'll draw whatever conclusions she chooses, and that'll be that. If he sticks around for a while, he'll have to go through the whole thing over again with the others, but with Vex, it'll be over.
Hopefully.
"Of course," he says crisply. The desire for modesty's never quite abandoned him, at least not in mixed company, but his attention can't help but stray toward Vex as they continue onward. Percy's gaze cuts over and back again; he takes in the slim, athletic shape of her, realizes he's doing it, and makes himself look forward. Lather, rinse, repeat. Having abandoned his glasses with his clothing, he's likely squinting, too, and God, why don't you be more obvious about it? Clearing his throat, he asks, "Have you, er, been here before?"
"The bathhouse?" She asks as clarification, her tone lightly ironic. It's not exactly an attraction, though she supposes it's practical enough to justify coming back again. "Or the town?"
Vex drops back to walk beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own, her skin already lightly damp from the ambient heat.
"Relax, darling. I'm not going to bite." Probably. Unless he wants her too.
After a beat, she asks, "How bad are your eyes without the glasses?"
Percy doesn't answer her first questions, a vague sense of embarrassment coming over him. It's novel, actually, trying and failing to talk to a woman - the stakes are so low, and yet he'd rather face a fight. And Vex in particular seems to have mastered the art of leaving people tongue-tied.
(Him, at least. Every time he remembers he's here beside her - especially after her naked shoulder nudges against his - it's like he swallowed a beehive. With his clothes on, refusing to let himself think too deeply on anything, he meets the bare minimum of small talk. Now there's no way to forget himself, no armor between him and the rest of the world.)
Her second question, he can manage, at least. With something besides a towel on, he could probably deliver the answer with the tenor of a lecturing professor. Right now, his voice comes out softer, guarded but genuine. "The world's blurrier. Anything near to hand, I can see all right - but the further away something is, the less detail I have."
"Is that to say I'll have to be close enough to make sure you can appreciate the view?" Vex asks boldly; at this point, she doesn't see a point in playing coy.
Percy is too twitchy for coyness, shy enough for both of them.
Not to put too fine of a point on it, but it's more fun to watch him squirm.
"I, ah -" His neck's flushing pink along with his cheeks, and it's not from the humid heat of the room they're walking into. She's doing this on purpose, and he knows it - but the strange thing is, it doesn't feel terrible. Somehow, it's mortifying but relatively painless; there's something kind to it, a warmth underlying everything she says.
She's flirting with you, idiot. But the idea of that, that someone could find him next to a moldering corpse and decide he's worth this much trouble, is still baffling. The pickings might be slim within her group, depending on what she's interested in, but there were other patrons at the tavern. There's a town full of people who don't need a charity bath to be fuckable, and who can string three words together when a beautiful woman asks probing questions. The accent surely can't be that tempting.
Still, it's flattering, and he's trying to keep up his end of the conversation, if only because he hates the idea that she'll grow bored, and all this will end. The thought of that is...lonesome, truthfully. He clears his throat yet again. "That's to say that it depends on what you'd like me to see."
"Like, the obvious answer is the tits. They're really top shelf. It'd be a shame to miss them." Vex's tone is an ironic mix of pride and self-deprecation, secure in the fact that she's objectively morbidly attractive—and also aware that her tits are really the only reason most men (or women, honestly) are interested in her.
She raises her hand, carefully, and traces a line of keloid across his shoulder.
"Or you could see mine; I do have a few scars of my own."
She softens slightly. Not soft, but a kind of reassurance. She sees them, and she's not put off.
"I suppose if you have trouble seeing, there are other senses you could engage instead."
Percy's shoulder tenses under her touch; by instinct, he turns his face away. A moment later, silently calling himself a coward, he forces himself to look her in the eyes. Her face is blurry, but it's not incomprehensible, and what he can see of her expression seems...not unkind. His, meanwhile, is a squinty sort of embarrassment, but he's forcing himself not to shrink back from any of this.
He doesn't actually want to pull away, is the thing - or to leave, or to beg off debauching themselves once he no longer smells like his decaying cellmate. (She really does seem committed to the possibility of debauchery, after all.) If he's honest with himself, and at the moment that's a big ask, he wants nothing less than to reach for her hand and set it back on his shoulder. He wants the proof of her interest to radiate from her palm into his skin. He didn't realize how badly he wanted someone to touch him until someone did.
"I -" Keep starting sentences without knowing how to finish them. Try again, de Rolo. He draws in a breath, sharp and deliberate. "I'm not opposed to a...multisensory approach. But if you're interested, I'll make a proper visual study later, when I've got my glasses on again."
Dear God, it's a mystery how he manages to sound both forward and stuffy at the same time. But he really is trying.
Vex's first thought: Gods, but Percy is more tense about the prospect of sex than anyone she's met in a long time. Possibly ever, which is saying something.
Her second, softer: There is probably a reason for that.
Whatever the source of his anxiety, like his scars, is his own. They've barely known each other more than a few hours and she is being remarkably forward in all of this. She won't ask. She has no interest in prying.
However, she can have some compassion.
Rather than trace any scars, Vex places her hand on Percy's back, firmly between his shoulder blades, and urges him toward the bath.
"We'll see how it goes. Unfortunately, what I had in mind still might steam them up."
He doesn't need much urging, at least when it comes to the bath. The longer they're in the steamy air, the grimier he's starting to feel; it's hard to miss the thin layer of dried sweat and dirt on his skin once it's rehumidified.
(Which makes it all the more astonishing that Vex'ahlia's hand lands directly over his spine, pressed flat against his filthy back. They're both about to wash, but he still feels halfway-untouchable, under the circumstances.)
"It probably will," he says, as though the idea of their coupling is an inevitability he believes in as clearly as she does, "but I might catch a bit more of the, er, view beforehand."
And perhaps her encouragement is catching, because at the edge of the bath, he decides there's no reason to drag out the inevitable. He unwraps his towel and folds it before setting it aside, and steps into the steaming water, settling down into it with a little sigh. Whatever else might be true of his lean frame, the worst scarring is above the waist - a quick glance at his groin makes it clear that it hasn't sustained visible damage, even if there are a few more cuts to be found on his thighs.
Vex does look, and she doesn't hide the fact. It's not too bold—she doesn't leer. But she does tilt her head and glance down, taking in a few more scars, the full sight of his wiry frame. All long limbs and rangy muscle. The extend of the damage. Also, the size of his cock.
Not that she was worried, but what she sees certainly is not not a deal breaker.
"We'll make sure you get a chance then," she says lightly. She unwraps herself, dropping her towel in a pile for later
Then she steps into the water. She savors the feel of it openly, giving herself permission to be sensual as she sinks into the warm bath. It's a luxury they can rarely take advantage of, and for today she considers it worth the cost.
Part of a little treat for herself.
"C'mon, darling," Vex invites him. "Let's get the prison funk off of you."
Every rule of propriety, every instinct he has, says he should look away...but he doesn't. She's clearly not shy about any of this, and she's made it abundantly clear she'd rather he wasn't, either. And if she wants his gaze - among other things - on her, then why shouldn't he look? He ought to know just what he's getting into.
Unsurprisingly, she's beautiful. He doesn't need his spectacles to realize that. The very shape of her is well-formed, and when he does squint a little, he catches as much detail as he needs to realize something important: Sleeping with Vex'ahlia is doubtless the best possible way he could spend the night. When the choices are a half-giant's snoring and a lithe, bright-eyed woman who seems to enjoy his company - well, only a fool would struggle.
(And she's beautiful. Some part of him wonders if he's the one who died in the cell, not the cultist, or if he's still back there, asleep and dreaming. That any of this would happen to him is still unbelievable.)
"Yes, please," he answers, lowering himself into the water, then ducking his head for a long moment. The water's heat is a welcome change from cold stone and drafty cells; by the time he surfaces, he already feels better. "This is the first bath I've had in...actually, you don't want to know. Could you hand me the soap, please?"
There is something appealing about the way Percy brightens when he comes up from the water, like the layers of grime and hard living are already starting to flake off to reveal the surprisingly young man underneath. Young and handsome, despite his shyness; it's no mystery why he wouldn't see it, but from Vex's perspective it's not so hard.
Quality isn't so easy to degrade. That goes for gear bought secondhand, and apparently it goes for nobility as well. With a little work and a good eye for the workmanship underneath, it's a wonder what you can dig up.
And where you can find it.
Vex lifts a chunk of soap, holding it toward him, then higher—playing a bit of keepaway.
"I could give it to you," she acknowledges archly. "On the other hand, I could do that for you? What's the use of having an extra set of hands in the bath if you're not going to make use of them?"
He reaches for the soap, and she raises it past his reach. He'd have to move dangerously close in order to get it from her, near enough to touch. (Or he could stand, but he knows instinctively that doing so would be cheating at this game of Vex's.) At an impasse, he listens to her proposal and feels his cock twitch at the thought of an extra set of hands.
"If - " At some point, his throat's going to be raw from all the throat-clearing he's done. There's already more color to him than usual from the steaming water; maybe she won't notice the blush. "If you'd like, I...don't have any objection."
Mostly he doesn't, at least. Part of him balks at the idea of anyone getting that familiar with his scars - but the rest of him yearns for more of her certain, uncompromising touch. That longing wins out easily, embarrassing thought it feels to admit.
Maybe it's instinct that recognizes Percy's been starved for touch. (It doesn't take an exceptionally observant woman to realize he hasn't seen much attention recently, and Vex is in her way exceptionally observant.) It may also be that she's using the excuse that it's for his benefit not to reflect on how much she's doing this for herself.
While she would bet good money that she's seen more amorous interest than he has, and more recently, he's not the only one starved for affection.
With ale fuzzing the edges of her thoughts, it's easy to avoid more than a passing taste of self-awareness. Easier still when she gets permission to do the cleaning. No sooner are the words out of Percy's mouth than Vex is insinuating herself beside him, not quite touching chest to chest as she brings the soap around on the back of his neck.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't like, darling," she assures him.
His eyes widen as she comes closer, because he's an imbecile who didn't consider in any detail the fact that she'd need to be near in order to touch him. The physical reality of it - her breasts a deep breath away from brushing up against his chest, her hand moving the soap over the back of his neck - is jarring.
It's also really, really nice. She's nice, and God, his mouth's hanging open, isn't it? Shut your mouth, de Rolo. She's very kindly not acknowledging the fact that she could have brought anyone out here with her, and the alternatives might have made far better company. But she didn't - she's here with him, cleaning who-knows-what off of him with a reassuring smile - and even he can see that's a compliment to him. (Possibly a mark of terrible taste on her part, but she'll find that out soon enough, if that's the case.)
He's going to have to relax, or he'll have a heart attack and die in a bathhouse before he's accomplished anything in his life. And fortunately, his body does seem to want to unwind: under her touch, his shoulders lose some of the years-old tension running through them. He can't quite smile, but that moment of uncertainty (all right, panic) dissolves into something more temperate.
"I suppose not. Er - thank you." This is going to be excruciating if he can't think of anything else to say. The best he can come up with is an offer he suspects won't be shot down, even if his instincts think it ought to be. "I'll return the favor after."
Vex doesn't interrogate how gratifying it is to have someone respond to her with such naked desire. The way Percy's jaw hangs open for just a moment sends a thrill through her in a way she's sure wouldn't be flattering to disclose—a man who's lived on bread and water for a year might look at a roast beef with that kind of disbelief and hunger, and she's almost disappointed when he closes his mouth before she can shut it for him.
Instead, she demonstrates that she's not especially bothered by the dirt that melts off of him as she works the soap across his shoulders and upper back. (The smell, on the other hand, Vex reserves the right to be dainty about. Luckily the warm water and toiletries, along with his previous dunking, go a long way to dispelling that.)
"Of course, darling. I wasn't going to let you get away without returning the attention." She couldn't be flirting more blatantly if she tried.
"But right now, we're taking care of you. Now—" She puts a hand on his upper arm, physically urging him to turn his back toward her. "Let me get your hair."
Vex walks a fine line between lascivious and no-nonsense, somehow landing in a place where everything feels utterly normal and unremarkable. It could be that everyone else is capable of this naturally, this straightforward expression of interest, and Percy's alone in his failures - but he'd like to think that this is a particular skill of Vex's. Certainly, he's never seen it in anyone else, though it's not often he's in the habit of letting near-strangers wash his back for him.
"Gladly," he sighs, turning around within the circle of her arms. His nerves might well return when Vex's hands start moving down his body rather than up, but right now, he's content. And the thought of her hands on his scalp draws up real anticipation in him; feeling clean starts with well-kept hair and whiskers for him. He'll be one decent razor away from looking like himself again.
As he sits there, his eyes slipping closed in the heat of the room, he thinks he had ought to say something more. Ask her about herself, learn something more about just who it is lathering up his filthy hair. Tell me about yourself is simultaneously too broad and demanding, but anything truly personal feels like prying. Eventually, what he comes up with is, "Have you been with your group long?"
Her hands glide over his skin in a caress as he turns, the calloused touch smoothed by soap and hot water. When he's in place, Vex gives both of his shoulders a little squeeze before urging him a little lower in the water.
She's not a short woman by any means, but Percy still has a few inches on her.
Sinking also brings his now cleaner back into contact with the soft swell of her breasts. (If he doesn't jump out of his skin, she'll take that as success. Trying to sooth Percy is like trying to calm a feral cat.)
But provided he stays in reach, her fingers thrust into his hair, lifting up from the roots before she starts to massage his scalp. More dirt falls away visibly with the attention.
"Not so long," she answers at last, if he's still listening. "A few jobs. Excluding my brother naturally. The others, though...Picked them up along the way."
He lets the water swallow more of his torso, not quite floating but no longer feeling the full weight of his body. Vex'ahlia's hands are on his skin, and then her chest is flush with his back. For a moment, he tenses - but it's as deliberate a touch as any other she's offered, and if things are going to go in the direction she's angling for, this can't be a dealbreaker.
One breath, a deliberate one, and another. And her hands in his hair work a kind of magic that he doesn't quite expect, despite everything that's happened before now. He groans, embarrassed by the sound as soon as he realizes he's making it. If he's lucky, she won't comment on it. If he's exceedingly lucky, she'll find it charming rather than pathetic.
Belatedly, he realizes she's speaking. He picks up what it is she's saying a moment in, realizes it's an answer to his question. At some point, his eyes have closed, and he doesn't bother to open them. "Ah. They seem like an, er. Interesting crew. Do you enjoy the work?"
Perhaps the groan can be charmingly pathetic. Which is in keeping with the feral cat imagery, if she thinks about it. Something half starved and dirty, but with a little food and a soft hand, appealing.
The fact in this case the stray is a handsome young man with eyes the color of sea glass and a compellingly haunted expression manage to turn that charming into something attractive.
The fact she's responsible for that groan doesn't hurt.
Her fingers are strong and clever, massaging soap through his hair and down to the skin.
"I enjoy getting paid," she says flippantly, flashing a smile he can't see but that certainly colors her voice. "And sometimes the work isn't so bad. Plus, we're fucking good at it."
At least she and Vex are. She's still warming up to the idea the rest of them aren't incompetent.
The longer he's here, held by the water and a beautiful archer, the less anything seems to matter. Every breath in is humid perfume, the room softened by intimate lighting and steam and his own bad eyesight; Vex'ahlia's voice has a warm, inviting quality to it, and her hands are sure. When she stops touching one patch of scalp, he could swear he still feels her fingertips there, some echo of her lingering on his skin. He wonders, stupidly, just how obvious the remnants of her touch will be to her compatriots. But mostly, he doesn't think much at all, just drinks in the nearness of another body and reacts when appropriate.
In other words, he is very, very tired, not to mention a little inebriated. Tomorrow, this will all look differently, no doubt, but he's struggling to plan past the next fifteen seconds. Why bother? Why not, at least for a time, allow himself to exist in this no-man's-land between dreaming and wakefulness? For once he doesn't feel the near-overwhelming dread and determination that mark his every waking moment (and more than a few of his dreams, too).
"I'm not about to disagree," he says, making no effort to mind his tongue, "after you broke me out of prison. You do seem to know what you're doing."
Even when it's utterly absurd. A moment later, curious: "And - the bear?"
"Trinket?" It's less sensual, but the pleasure Vex takes in that name is apparent. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that he gives her more joy than any other member of her little group. (Possibly including her brother. Vax has been a constant support in her life and she loves him dearly, but he's also given her more frustration than Trinket has ever imagined. in his wildest bear dreams.) "Oh, I've had him since he was a cub. It's a long and not terribly interesting&dmash;" pleaseant, she means "—story, but in the end, I got a bear.
"So we do have that."
Her fingers drag down his scalp to his shoulders, digging in there too.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-01-08 07:13 am (UTC)Nice to have that appreciated for a change.
"Lucky for you to have me around to negotiate for you," she says, mildly enough for it not to sound insulting, but still full of a certain bravado. The ale isn't hurting there.
On impulse, she reaches for his lapel, tugging playfully.
"I should have seen if I could get them to include washing this."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-08 01:09 pm (UTC)When she comments on his clothing, he groans - not in a sexy way, without any blushing. "I'd ask them to burn it, if I had anything to replace it with. I'm not sure any of my clothing is salvageable."
And then there's a room with inset shelves for storing clothing and weapons whilst bathing. Percy turns away from Vex, hoping to give her a bit of privacy, and folds each item he takes off before setting it away. He's dawdling, he knows, taking too much time to pull off his boots so he doesn't have to unbutton his shirt, but the conversation around his torso is never a pleasant one - and things have been strangely pleasant so far. He'd love for them to stay that way.
Eventually, he ends up stripped down to the skin, wrapping a towel around his waist for modesty, and decides the best option is likely to pretend there's nothing notable about his appearance. Vex might ask, but she'll have to be the one to bring up the ugly terrain of scarred flesh, every cut on his body too straight and clean to be naturally acquired. Affecting a bright voice, he turns back to her and starts walking toward the door into the bathing area. "Shall we?"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 05:14 am (UTC)She also looks out of the corner of her eye to see him, filthy as he is, and pauses when she starts counting the scars. She's not open in studying them, but she does take in the sight, gaze flicking up to Percy's profile while she reconsiders what she knows about the man.
She follows his lead, wrapping a towel around her body though it barely makes it as far as her legs.
"Of course, darling," she says, her voice natural. If the scars bother her, she doesn't show a sign of it. "One moment."
The last thing she does is take down her hair, tucking the feather that adorned her braid safely away among her clothes before unraveling her braid across her shoulder.
"There. Now... follow me."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 05:43 am (UTC)Hopefully.
"Of course," he says crisply. The desire for modesty's never quite abandoned him, at least not in mixed company, but his attention can't help but stray toward Vex as they continue onward. Percy's gaze cuts over and back again; he takes in the slim, athletic shape of her, realizes he's doing it, and makes himself look forward. Lather, rinse, repeat. Having abandoned his glasses with his clothing, he's likely squinting, too, and God, why don't you be more obvious about it? Clearing his throat, he asks, "Have you, er, been here before?"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 06:10 am (UTC)Vex drops back to walk beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own, her skin already lightly damp from the ambient heat.
"Relax, darling. I'm not going to bite." Probably. Unless he wants her too.
After a beat, she asks, "How bad are your eyes without the glasses?"
no subject
Date: 2025-01-09 03:38 pm (UTC)(Him, at least. Every time he remembers he's here beside her - especially after her naked shoulder nudges against his - it's like he swallowed a beehive. With his clothes on, refusing to let himself think too deeply on anything, he meets the bare minimum of small talk. Now there's no way to forget himself, no armor between him and the rest of the world.)
Her second question, he can manage, at least. With something besides a towel on, he could probably deliver the answer with the tenor of a lecturing professor. Right now, his voice comes out softer, guarded but genuine. "The world's blurrier. Anything near to hand, I can see all right - but the further away something is, the less detail I have."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-10 01:17 am (UTC)Percy is too twitchy for coyness, shy enough for both of them.
Not to put too fine of a point on it, but it's more fun to watch him squirm.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-10 01:50 am (UTC)She's flirting with you, idiot. But the idea of that, that someone could find him next to a moldering corpse and decide he's worth this much trouble, is still baffling. The pickings might be slim within her group, depending on what she's interested in, but there were other patrons at the tavern. There's a town full of people who don't need a charity bath to be fuckable, and who can string three words together when a beautiful woman asks probing questions. The accent surely can't be that tempting.
Still, it's flattering, and he's trying to keep up his end of the conversation, if only because he hates the idea that she'll grow bored, and all this will end. The thought of that is...lonesome, truthfully. He clears his throat yet again. "That's to say that it depends on what you'd like me to see."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-10 05:24 am (UTC)She raises her hand, carefully, and traces a line of keloid across his shoulder.
"Or you could see mine; I do have a few scars of my own."
She softens slightly. Not soft, but a kind of reassurance. She sees them, and she's not put off.
"I suppose if you have trouble seeing, there are other senses you could engage instead."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-10 09:46 pm (UTC)He doesn't actually want to pull away, is the thing - or to leave, or to beg off debauching themselves once he no longer smells like his decaying cellmate. (She really does seem committed to the possibility of debauchery, after all.) If he's honest with himself, and at the moment that's a big ask, he wants nothing less than to reach for her hand and set it back on his shoulder. He wants the proof of her interest to radiate from her palm into his skin. He didn't realize how badly he wanted someone to touch him until someone did.
"I -" Keep starting sentences without knowing how to finish them. Try again, de Rolo. He draws in a breath, sharp and deliberate. "I'm not opposed to a...multisensory approach. But if you're interested, I'll make a proper visual study later, when I've got my glasses on again."
Dear God, it's a mystery how he manages to sound both forward and stuffy at the same time. But he really is trying.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-10 11:30 pm (UTC)Her second, softer: There is probably a reason for that.
Whatever the source of his anxiety, like his scars, is his own. They've barely known each other more than a few hours and she is being remarkably forward in all of this. She won't ask. She has no interest in prying.
However, she can have some compassion.
Rather than trace any scars, Vex places her hand on Percy's back, firmly between his shoulder blades, and urges him toward the bath.
"We'll see how it goes. Unfortunately, what I had in mind still might steam them up."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-11 01:17 am (UTC)(Which makes it all the more astonishing that Vex'ahlia's hand lands directly over his spine, pressed flat against his filthy back. They're both about to wash, but he still feels halfway-untouchable, under the circumstances.)
"It probably will," he says, as though the idea of their coupling is an inevitability he believes in as clearly as she does, "but I might catch a bit more of the, er, view beforehand."
And perhaps her encouragement is catching, because at the edge of the bath, he decides there's no reason to drag out the inevitable. He unwraps his towel and folds it before setting it aside, and steps into the steaming water, settling down into it with a little sigh. Whatever else might be true of his lean frame, the worst scarring is above the waist - a quick glance at his groin makes it clear that it hasn't sustained visible damage, even if there are a few more cuts to be found on his thighs.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-11 11:22 pm (UTC)Not that she was worried, but what she sees certainly is not not a deal breaker.
"We'll make sure you get a chance then," she says lightly. She unwraps herself, dropping her towel in a pile for later
Then she steps into the water. She savors the feel of it openly, giving herself permission to be sensual as she sinks into the warm bath. It's a luxury they can rarely take advantage of, and for today she considers it worth the cost.
Part of a little treat for herself.
"C'mon, darling," Vex invites him. "Let's get the prison funk off of you."
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Date: 2025-01-12 03:33 am (UTC)Unsurprisingly, she's beautiful. He doesn't need his spectacles to realize that. The very shape of her is well-formed, and when he does squint a little, he catches as much detail as he needs to realize something important: Sleeping with Vex'ahlia is doubtless the best possible way he could spend the night. When the choices are a half-giant's snoring and a lithe, bright-eyed woman who seems to enjoy his company - well, only a fool would struggle.
(And she's beautiful. Some part of him wonders if he's the one who died in the cell, not the cultist, or if he's still back there, asleep and dreaming. That any of this would happen to him is still unbelievable.)
"Yes, please," he answers, lowering himself into the water, then ducking his head for a long moment. The water's heat is a welcome change from cold stone and drafty cells; by the time he surfaces, he already feels better. "This is the first bath I've had in...actually, you don't want to know. Could you hand me the soap, please?"
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Date: 2025-01-13 02:32 am (UTC)Quality isn't so easy to degrade. That goes for gear bought secondhand, and apparently it goes for nobility as well. With a little work and a good eye for the workmanship underneath, it's a wonder what you can dig up.
And where you can find it.
Vex lifts a chunk of soap, holding it toward him, then higher—playing a bit of keepaway.
"I could give it to you," she acknowledges archly. "On the other hand, I could do that for you? What's the use of having an extra set of hands in the bath if you're not going to make use of them?"
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Date: 2025-01-13 03:16 am (UTC)"If - " At some point, his throat's going to be raw from all the throat-clearing he's done. There's already more color to him than usual from the steaming water; maybe she won't notice the blush. "If you'd like, I...don't have any objection."
Mostly he doesn't, at least. Part of him balks at the idea of anyone getting that familiar with his scars - but the rest of him yearns for more of her certain, uncompromising touch. That longing wins out easily, embarrassing thought it feels to admit.
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Date: 2025-01-13 08:02 am (UTC)While she would bet good money that she's seen more amorous interest than he has, and more recently, he's not the only one starved for affection.
With ale fuzzing the edges of her thoughts, it's easy to avoid more than a passing taste of self-awareness. Easier still when she gets permission to do the cleaning. No sooner are the words out of Percy's mouth than Vex is insinuating herself beside him, not quite touching chest to chest as she brings the soap around on the back of his neck.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't like, darling," she assures him.
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Date: 2025-01-13 06:37 pm (UTC)It's also really, really nice. She's nice, and God, his mouth's hanging open, isn't it? Shut your mouth, de Rolo. She's very kindly not acknowledging the fact that she could have brought anyone out here with her, and the alternatives might have made far better company. But she didn't - she's here with him, cleaning who-knows-what off of him with a reassuring smile - and even he can see that's a compliment to him. (Possibly a mark of terrible taste on her part, but she'll find that out soon enough, if that's the case.)
He's going to have to relax, or he'll have a heart attack and die in a bathhouse before he's accomplished anything in his life. And fortunately, his body does seem to want to unwind: under her touch, his shoulders lose some of the years-old tension running through them. He can't quite smile, but that moment of uncertainty (all right, panic) dissolves into something more temperate.
"I suppose not. Er - thank you." This is going to be excruciating if he can't think of anything else to say. The best he can come up with is an offer he suspects won't be shot down, even if his instincts think it ought to be. "I'll return the favor after."
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Date: 2025-01-15 05:12 pm (UTC)Instead, she demonstrates that she's not especially bothered by the dirt that melts off of him as she works the soap across his shoulders and upper back. (The smell, on the other hand, Vex reserves the right to be dainty about. Luckily the warm water and toiletries, along with his previous dunking, go a long way to dispelling that.)
"Of course, darling. I wasn't going to let you get away without returning the attention." She couldn't be flirting more blatantly if she tried.
"But right now, we're taking care of you. Now—" She puts a hand on his upper arm, physically urging him to turn his back toward her. "Let me get your hair."
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Date: 2025-01-15 06:49 pm (UTC)"Gladly," he sighs, turning around within the circle of her arms. His nerves might well return when Vex's hands start moving down his body rather than up, but right now, he's content. And the thought of her hands on his scalp draws up real anticipation in him; feeling clean starts with well-kept hair and whiskers for him. He'll be one decent razor away from looking like himself again.
As he sits there, his eyes slipping closed in the heat of the room, he thinks he had ought to say something more. Ask her about herself, learn something more about just who it is lathering up his filthy hair. Tell me about yourself is simultaneously too broad and demanding, but anything truly personal feels like prying. Eventually, what he comes up with is, "Have you been with your group long?"
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Date: 2025-01-16 08:03 pm (UTC)She's not a short woman by any means, but Percy still has a few inches on her.
Sinking also brings his now cleaner back into contact with the soft swell of her breasts. (If he doesn't jump out of his skin, she'll take that as success. Trying to sooth Percy is like trying to calm a feral cat.)
But provided he stays in reach, her fingers thrust into his hair, lifting up from the roots before she starts to massage his scalp. More dirt falls away visibly with the attention.
"Not so long," she answers at last, if he's still listening. "A few jobs. Excluding my brother naturally. The others, though...Picked them up along the way."
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Date: 2025-01-17 02:26 am (UTC)One breath, a deliberate one, and another. And her hands in his hair work a kind of magic that he doesn't quite expect, despite everything that's happened before now. He groans, embarrassed by the sound as soon as he realizes he's making it. If he's lucky, she won't comment on it. If he's exceedingly lucky, she'll find it charming rather than pathetic.
Belatedly, he realizes she's speaking. He picks up what it is she's saying a moment in, realizes it's an answer to his question. At some point, his eyes have closed, and he doesn't bother to open them. "Ah. They seem like an, er. Interesting crew. Do you enjoy the work?"
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Date: 2025-01-17 02:56 am (UTC)The fact in this case the stray is a handsome young man with eyes the color of sea glass and a compellingly haunted expression manage to turn that charming into something attractive.
The fact she's responsible for that groan doesn't hurt.
Her fingers are strong and clever, massaging soap through his hair and down to the skin.
"I enjoy getting paid," she says flippantly, flashing a smile he can't see but that certainly colors her voice. "And sometimes the work isn't so bad. Plus, we're fucking good at it."
At least she and Vex are. She's still warming up to the idea the rest of them aren't incompetent.
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Date: 2025-01-17 05:29 pm (UTC)In other words, he is very, very tired, not to mention a little inebriated. Tomorrow, this will all look differently, no doubt, but he's struggling to plan past the next fifteen seconds. Why bother? Why not, at least for a time, allow himself to exist in this no-man's-land between dreaming and wakefulness? For once he doesn't feel the near-overwhelming dread and determination that mark his every waking moment (and more than a few of his dreams, too).
"I'm not about to disagree," he says, making no effort to mind his tongue, "after you broke me out of prison. You do seem to know what you're doing."
Even when it's utterly absurd. A moment later, curious: "And - the bear?"
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Date: 2025-01-17 10:57 pm (UTC)"So we do have that."
Her fingers drag down his scalp to his shoulders, digging in there too.
"Ready to rinse?"
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