redrighthanded | IC; Duplicity Inbox

[ It feels a little embarrassing to leave her behind in that pit of a room, even if she has promised, more than once, how much she wants to be there and be helpful to him. He's too used to being independent, too used to taking the minimum amount of care of himself because he can't formulate a reason to do otherwise. Growing up on a military base, he'd never been taught the niceties of things, only enough to pass the occasional inspection which never really became formal, and now he feels the loss of that sort of teaching, how it widens the gap between who and what he is and everyone else.

His thoughts stay in this dark pattern as he makes his way down to the shared bathrooms, finding the shower thankfully deserted. It'll be good, at least, to feel clean, and he dials the temperature of the water up as high as it can get -- which isn't all that high at all -- as he tosses his shorts aside and reaches up to tug his hair out of the knot at the back of his skull.

Ducking his head to get under the spray, he doesn't do much besides stand there, left hand planted on the cool tiles of the wall, feeling the sting and ache of water running into the wounds on his back and belly. He doesn't look up when Gilia enters, hearing the faint sound of her undressing and wanting to give her a little privacy, but glances up when she asks him that question. ]

Uh. I guess. [ He looks down at himself, the water sheeting off his dark red skin. ] It'll heal, it doesn't need to be fussed around.

Why is it, that I feel you may just be telling me that to make me not worry?

[ The smile is gentle on her lips as she steps out of her shoes, dropping down to bare flat feet as the stockings follow after. Her many careful pieces that are all laid out neatly and carefully. Her arm crossing over her chest in the barest habit of modesty of a noblewoman. But there was a difference, after all. The place where there was always shared comfort in being naked with each other were bathhouses. It feels almost... familiar to stripping down, humming to herself to let him know where she was as she moved.

When she's finally, at long last, undressed, she comes closer. Gently pulling the shower curtain aside, keeping her eyes lowered so she doesn't peek so vulgar at him. Slow little steps to not slip and keep her manners minded.

No matter how painfully handsome he is. ]

Because I must assure you, I shall do that regardless of how you seek to distract me.

[ Slowly, she came to stand at his back, and then with slow hands, she reached up to his back and closed her eyes. The water in showers was quite remarkable to do with sheer engineering, she supposed, it was very good for people who were not blessed as she was. It would certainly do, if you never knew any better.

But forgive her the pride, but she could do better than any such basic construction, even than what could be found in the Up. Her palms set on his shoulders and breathed in deeply. A faint ripple, almost like power, almost like a careful inevitability of the tide going out and the water began to divert. The falling water that changes its patter, where she coaxes it into a better pressure she prefers for this kind of work. The steam rising thick in the air with the hot water, that in turn she channels, pushes to keep the room warm and filled in that gentle haze, as one by one, in the communal shower, the water turns on all the other tap so she can have enough for what she needs. Manipulating it without thought, only a tilt of a head, as around them, she ribbons the water, to caress him far better.

Then exhales, forming a ball of water in her palms from the falling stream, directs to knead at his skin, his sore muscles, that the water she weaves like a ribbon around his body matches. Massaging them, using the heat to loosen them up. In that way, it is practised, and she has done it often. A learned skill to help ease the heavy days of fishing from family members when her goals in life had been far simpler. Working in patterns, over and over to try and take the ache and the seized feeling from his limbs.

That most especially, strange as it seemed, no water ever touches the wound except where it runs a rivulet around it, to clean any blood away, but never to sting the wound itself. ]

Guess it's pointless to keep telling you.

[ He says the words to the wall in front of him, pitching his voice just under the noise of the shower, wondering at the way the prospect of someone worrying about him makes him feel relieved instead of annoyed. It's something he hasn't had a lot of, at least not when he needed it, but maybe he's realising how much of that was because he ended up pulling away before he could recognise it.

It's with a small amount of shame that he lets her come into the stall with him, twitching his tail back to accommodate her, all too aware of how much space he takes up. But she doesn't seem to care, and he can't stop himself tracing, over his shoulder, the first beads of water that find her skin and run down over her full breasts, the dark whorls of her nipples, things he vaguely remembers, in a dreamlike way, from their first encounter.

When she touches him he lets out a breath and turns his gaze away, ducking his head under the pulse of the water and the gentle pressure of her touch. At first he doesn't notice what she's doing, then the thunder of the shower seems to change, shifting around him, becoming a firmer and softer, pulling away in ribbons around his legs and up over his abdomen. It feels strange, but good, pleasurable, the heat and pressure winding over stiffened muscles.

He reaches up to put his right hand against the wall to support himself as he relaxes, bit by bit, under her touch, head bowed and his tail, unbidden, swaying out to slide around her ankle as she works. ]

Feels good. [ He sighs the words, not sure if she'll be able to hear him. ]

[ She smiles quietly to herself, as she feels long before he says anything, how the tension goes out of him.

But with his words, she leans forward, pressing up on her toes to lay the kiss gently on his shoulder as careful as a drain drop. ] I am glad. I feared I may have lost my touch, I have not done this since I came here...

[ She keeps up her circles, over and over, every ache she can find, anything that makes him sigh in relief, she works the water at his muscles. Warm and encompassing, a passed down tradition.

It just didn't happen to be her wedding night. But at least knowing she was helping someone so dear to her? It was just as good.

Because if the touch of his tail meant anything, it was to not stop, letting him be as comfortable as possible. ]

Turn? I must get all of you.

[ If there's anything lacking in her skills, Hellboy can't detect it, the pressure and warm presence of the water running across his skin unwinding knots he didn't even realise he had. He's shameless in his appreciation, low soft noises escaping from him as she finds areas of tension and smooths them away, his hold on the wall becoming more necessary as his body relaxes.

He's not sure when he closed his eyes, but when she speaks again he blinks them open under the spray. ]

Oh, sure. Um. [ He's a little hesitant, but he doesn't want to disappoint her, shifting a little awkwardly to be able to move around in the confined space. The reason for the faint air of embarrassment in his gaze as he looks down at her, then quickly glances away, is obvious; injured as he is, he's still (mostly) human, and the reaction his body has had to her gentle touches is a very primal one, his cock heavy and half-hard between his legs.

He clears his throat, studying the wall of the shower. ] You don't have to.. uh..

[At least the steam is a good reason for her cheeks to be pink, as she catches sight of what he is so worried about.

He's just... impressive, and for a second she is stuck in the memory of their ardent love making, as public as it was, rough and direct. Or rough for her, as it was. That she had - oh Spirits, how had she walked straight afterwards when she actually considered the size between - difference, size difference between them.

Gilia, quite honestly. She was helping him heal. Not staring like a maid watching the fishermen in the summer spray taking off their shirts.

He would look so painfully handsome in those linen shirts, clinging with the sea water and air. But that was, as she reminded herself, firmly not something she should ever consider. He was a prone man at the moment, not to be stared at. So even if her voice is flustered and shy, she continues on. ]

I am... I am glad you are feeling relaxed to be so... so comfortable. [Yes that would do, he was just. Comfortable. That was all. ]

I do not... I do not mind. [ Her best attempt to try and act like everything was like anything conversation. Which meant back to work. She could be less distracted with that. Her hands lifting, and as just as careful, laying them upon his shoulders to begin again. Kneading and circling with that pressure across his front.

Needed to fill the air, occupy herself or she was going to think far too much about the body in front of her in a way that was not at all respectful. No, no, he needed help, not desire. ]

We are very famous for this, in my lands, our touch- the water I mean, we control it, but because we do not go to war we put it to other uses. We have houses and people who train especially for baths and massages. Sometimes I think my people so peaceful, that we would fight over next to nothing, except for this. We would rather go without new clothes for festivals, than not have our bathhouses to rub away the aches of the day. [Across, down, circle back up. Not thinking about where she was touching, or not touching. The water was touching. The careful rivulets between carved muscles as defined as the fishermen. ] It is good, for the fishermen and the labourers, they like it best. Helps to... To promote their blood to move better to all their limbs on cold days so they feel warm and... and flush against the bitter winds, and stop the... aches from long days. Make them relaxed and happier when they go back to their homes.

[ It's so unlike their first encounter, her standing demure and blushing in front of him, but he can't stop himself remembering that too, the way she'd opened her legs and taken him gladly, the taste of their come mingled as they'd kissed. Hellboy watches water bead and run down between her tits, then forces his eyes away, trying to follow her example.

The pain of his injuries fades back to a dull throb under the steam and the water, as well as the distraction of her proximity; he tries to hold on to it, a stabilising presence, as well as the gentle lilt of her words as she tells her story. He can imagine her there in the bathhouses, sleeves rolled up, helping her people. It's a good image, calm and peaceful and warm.

It's difficult to stay there, though, when she's still touching him, her small hands pale against his skin as she strokes those bubbling spheres of water down over him. She passes one over his nipple and he catches his breath, his cock twitching, his gaze drawn back to her despite himself. ]

That sounds.. [ He clears his throat. ] Sounds real good. Did you ever get to.. to feel that?

[The conversation does make it easier. Something to focus on that is just not just his body, so responsive under her touch. As it had been. How eager and quick -

Not the time. She breathes out a little higher and then focuses back on the task, and answering his question. ]

Oh, yes. Women share the bathhouse, we help each other in those sort of intimate requests, and - after I became Second-Child, I have my ladies in waiting. They attend my body in however I need in such ways. They take their work with as much pride and they are so wonderfully thorough to my needs, after they have finished with me, I think I could sleep for a week. They have a few more steps, [ She tilts her head as she goes through it, unaware how it all... sounded. ] They will oil my body, my hair, then with loose cloth they rub it into my skin until I am supple, brush my hair free and braid it, and it's after that, they begin to work the water into all my aches from the day.

Edited 2021-01-15 17:36 (UTC)

[ Focusing on something else is a good idea. Hellboy tips his head up, studies the shower curtain above her head, trying not to imagine Gilia among those women, standing naked among them as they run oiled hands over her skin, over her arms and stomach and down between her -- ]

Yeah, I think I'm gonna.. uh, be pretty tired after this. [ He swallows, knowing he's definitely hard now, that the smooth wet skin of her belly will be touching him if she moves in any closer. ]

[ She looks up at him, beaming gladly. Totally unaware of the things she has said, and how they'd sound to literally anyone else. ]

Truly? That is wonderful really, I was so worried I would not be pleasant to you, the same -

[ Focused on her task as she is, it all follows that inevitably when she presses up on her toes to reach up the front of his chest to his neck, and - ]

Oh. Oh! [ Her mouth goes dry a moment. Truly, how had she managed to take all of him the first try? But that was quickly followed by the insidious thought that if she truly was not so sure, she could try again.

Stop it! He had had a wretched day. He needed love and respect most of all. Not gawking. ] I did not mean... to... trouble... Ah, trouble you, if you were... I mean that, you are recovering, and not that... not that you are not most pleasing to me, I mean, without - I hope that does not sound unladylike, or, such a way that is... But that you are injured and if you... need me to -

[ Oh Spirits, why had her sisters never gossiped about these sorts of things so she might know what to say? ] need me to... go?

[.... She just looks up at him with her blue eyes fixed somewhere that isn't his body and stops talking with a gulp. ]

[ He just about manages to stop himself from groaning aloud as the head of his cock slides over the soft curve of her stomach. His hands curl and uncurl at his sides, tail twitching in the spray of water, as she glances down at notices it. ]

You, ah. [ He takes a careful breath, then reaches out carefully and brushes his fingertips against her hip, the slightest touch, his gaze intent on her expression, tracking every small change in her mood. ]

You can stay. If you want.

[ How strange to be standing in a bathing room, and feel her mouth dry out. Swallowing down as she looks up at him. Searching his eyes as she tries not to be - so ridiculous. ]

I would... [ She gives a little nod, unsure, but... staying. ] I am... I know I must be unseemly with the... messages I have sent you, and the... the first time we met. But truly, I do mean no... no assumption of your affections.

The.. oh. That's fine.

[ He settles his hand on her hip, thumb stroking over her damp skin. The last thing he wants to do is pressure her, or make her feel uncomfortable, no matter how close and intense their current situation is. He studies her through the steam of the water. ]

You know you've got my.. affection, if you want it. You're a good person, Gilia. You deserve people being good to you too.

[How could her response be any different, when he talks to her like that, of her, like that?

No, anything else would not be fitting, than to lift herself up on her toes to close the distance between them - and kiss him. Soundly, surely. Mouth warm on his and cupping his cheeks with both her hands and happy hum she presses into his lips. ]

And my affection is yours.

[ He leans into it, grateful to have her respond so well to what little he can offer her compared to the pleasure and awe-inspiring presence of her powers. His left hand slides down her body, rounding those warm damp curves as he kisses her. When she pulls back he leaves his hand there, spread wide over the softness of her backside. ]

Gilia, can I.. [ He shifts his weight, his hard dick bumping and sliding a little over her hip. ]

[Each kiss is careful, nibbled like a secret against his lips, a soft warm touch. Not that half madness of before but, deliberately learning and remembering how to touch him. Careful fingers that brush like she holds something so precious.

That she lowers, to his hip. Tentatively and so very meticulous she curls those so delicate fingers around his cock. Balling the water around the her fingers again to begin to massage up and down his length. Still letting the tip bob against her hip to keep him braced. ]

Yes. Gently. I came here to tend you, not hurt you further. Slowly. We'd best not open your wound again.

Edited (bad sentence structure oop) 2021-01-29 14:37 (UTC)

[ He lets out a breath against her mouth as she slides her hand down, taking him into her gentle grip at first, then the rolling massage of the water that seems to be designed to drag out that tension enough that his legs almost buckle underneath him. ]

Ah, Gilia -- [ His hand tightens over her ass, digging into her soft curves. ] Don't stop. Please.

[ She cannot hold his weight exactly, but she leans in, kissing him just as slowly, just as carefully. Letting him ease into it. Take all the tension out of him. Long, slow strokes from tip to base again and again. ]

I've got you.

[ The water trickles, warms and runs over him the same way as she had the rest. ]

[ He kisses her back, as softly as he can at first, though the hunger and urgency is starting to build. His right hand comes up to gently cradle the back of her head, the warm wet stone huge against her.

The slow strokes are simultaneously everything he wants and not enough, teasing the edge of bringing him to release, the rumbling pressure of the water moving over him a sensation that's almost overstimulating. He rocks his hips forward into those long strokes, seeking more as beads of pre-come thicken the water running off his dick, his left hand sliding down her backside and between her legs, blunt fingertips rubbing up into that soft cleft between her cheeks. ]

[ How odd it felt to be cradled so carefully by something that could crush her like a butterfly, and yet to feel so much control, as she felt him tremble under each careful stroke and touch of her fingers. But still, she felt no fear of him. Feeling that strange mix of his pre-come and water that she cleans away each time she runs over him. Speeding up, little by little, but never too much. Not yet, at least. Easing him along as gently as possible. A slow control she maintains as best she can.

At least until he finds her with his own hand. She pauses in a stolen breath. Back arching up into him as her leg lifts to allow him to reach her easier. Her eyes slipped shut as she gasps, inhaling against his lips, her arm tightening around his shoulders to not slip. Rocking back in the same encouragement, that builds so readily, and perhaps it's just the memory of the last time, but the croon on her lips is as sweet, if not quite so mad. ] My Prince.

[ That burning image of his crown, that she croons sweetly into his mouth. Not in mockery or even adulation, but wrapped and safe and loving, so very, very loving in the way she was always falling into. ]

[ She tastes like sea salt against his lips, bright and sweet as she takes a breath. His fingertips slip through wetness far silkier than water, easing against the heat of her folds, sliding over her rather than pushing into her body. It's a tease and a way to focus all at the same time, making him want to be inside her, but giving him something else to think about besides the growing urgency low in the pit of his stomach.

He makes a soft noise at her choice of endearment, denial rising automatically into his mind, though something about it feels right when she says it, almost acceptable. ]

My queen. [ His voice is low as he recalls that encounter too, rolling himself into the grip of her powers. ]

[She hums against his mouth. It felt - right. Content. Something she could only share with him, when she had learned to hide so much of herself, no less before as since being here. He would not fear her, and he did not quiet her. A happiness she smiles into his lips, eager, still.

That as they find rhythm against each other, she only wants more. He is one of the most painfully handsome men she's ever met. How often she thought about him, wanted him. No less that she could not be as open with it as so many others.

That when she catches her breath, pulls back, she sighs, kissing his jaw, then lower down his throat. Wondering and savouring and enjoying each sound he made for want of more. ] You're so beautiful. [ Meant it, so completely. Perhaps her own naivety, but she felt no shame in the truth as she saw it. ]

[ It's a difficult truth to accept, even from her, though she's perhaps one of the very few he can endure it from. Beauty has always felt like something delicate, fragile, not for the likes of him, when he finds himself breaking things just by leaning on them too hard. Beauty is in the soft curves under his fingertips, the golden hair collecting the steam of the shower and the smell of sun-warmed oceans rising around them.

As she moves down with her kisses he tilts his head back a little, accepting it with a sigh, though his hand stays between her legs, moving gently over her clit, but more meaningfully with each passing moment. ]

Gilia. [ He sighs her name. Not the titles, or endearments, but the whole of her as he sees her, the goddess and the woman. ] I want you.

Then take me. [ She holds her lips on his neck as she shapes the words on his throat. ] I am yours. I want you too.

[ She slides down his body, kissing and gently nipping as she goes. Lathing her tongue over his nipple, the cut of his defined his muscles as she goes to her knees.

Then pauses to kiss across his hips, lapping at the water on his skin with a satisfying whisper at the taste of his skin mingling with it. Taking her time, here and there, before with her eyes looking up, watching him, she opens her mouth and begins to close her mouth around the tip of his cock. He's far, far too much for her to take easily when she was still learning how to do this. But she had certainly gave it a try. Sinking down and down until she felt him at the back of her throat, to close her fingers around the rest of him as she gently began to bob her head over him. ]

Gilia -- ah. [ Her name gets an extra hitch in it as she moves against him. He lets her, not only because it feels good to have her mouth on him, but because he doesn't want to deny her what she wants. His right hand seeks the wall behind him, a flat steadying pressure under the hot thunder of the water.

He watches her sink down to her knees, guessing what she wants to do, and part of him wants to reassure her that she doesn't have to try, doesn't have to do this if she doesn't want to, but it feels so damn good, and before he can warn her off she's already parting those beautiful lips around the head of him. A groan rises up out of him as she takes him carefully into her mouth, a heat greater than the shower around them, and he fights to stay still, to let her do all of the manoeuvring around him. It's difficult, though, especially as he starts to feel those rings of muscle around him, watching her take him as deep as she can. ]

That feels so good. [ He brushes the fingers of his left hand over her cheek, then lets his touch drift to the sea wrack and foam of her hair, sinking into it just to have a point of contact, not to control her movements. His head tips back, water sheeting down over the side of his face. ] Ah, don't stop.

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seaboard - 2021-02-18 00:56 (UTC) - Expand