It is the way the water runs over her skin that sets him off.

He could feel the hesitation from her before she finally submits and slides her slim hand inside her own. He allows her to step in first, not for her sake, but for his own. Her head tilts back, water rushing along her almost in slow motion. The droplets stroking her smooth skin, kissing her flesh with comforting heat. His cold, abysmal gaze is cloudy, a haze much like the blood haze from the park fogging within him. This is different than the blood haze, much more intense in its wake. He must look drugged by the sight of her. He has had his fair share of...bodies, in many ways more than one and her naked appearance is not something he has yet to witness. However, it is a different kind of beauty, marred with its imperfections that make her look...well...perfect?

He steps within the glass box, sliding the door closed behind him and once again trapping his prey deeper, further into his grasp. He moves forward, the water sliding along his own battered flesh as dirt and blood twirl in a dance before disappearing within the drain. He purr is intoxicating, a noise his feline is unable to make though the deepest of rumbles forms from his chest. He pushes forward, pressuring her against the wall. More heat flows between them as his left arm rises to brace him against the shower wall. His palm looks massive beside her petite head, innocence bare on her face though he knows, she is daring him to make a move. He has learned in a short period of time her fearlessness, though perhaps she wears a strong mask. His other hand rises, scooping the small cloth from its hanger beneath the closest shower head. Slowly he moves, eyes leaving her face for this new task he has presented upon himself.

The rag hovers before her flesh, eyes lifting behind long lashes to glance at her briefly before he returns to her bare chest, rag lowering to touch her chin. This is where he will start, her face. Gently he wipes away the residue of the previous night, brushing the rag along her eyebrows, her gentle eyelids, her nose and pausing at her mouth. He can feel her through the rag, feel how warm her body has become, how soft she must be. He moves away from her lips, sliding down her cheeks one at a time before reaching her throat. So gentle, he was being so gentle with her in this intimate moment. Fatigue and a relaxation breaking way. His savage forced below the surface to reside behind cool eyes. He would not reveal such a thing yet,though he does not doubt her capability to stand strong.

The rag continues, moving along her neck down to her shoulders and sliding gently along her collar bones. Another pause, another look of permission upon his face as piercing blues meet her eyes,

Shall he continue?

Iórkæll dværg