To her knees she falls and his eyes follow, a hunger within that dances in his icy gaze. She meets that gaze, if only for a moment, her face a mirror of emotion and yet something strange lingers there. It is brief, and curious and just like that is gone. She focuses, moving along his lower half steadily. How delicate she is with his flesh, something almost corrupt about the actions she takes with him. Just as she has cleaned away the debris from his thoughts, she cleans it from his flesh as well. Dirt peels away beneath her slender hands and that cloth, streaking to the marble floor and into the drain. The feeling is euphoric, her touch seeping through the feeling of the cloth and on to his bare skin. He tenses, muscles practically spasming. His flesh ripple with those chills for her delicate touch is an oxymoron to him; disgustingly delicious.

Fingers rise to meet his thighs and he trembles slightly, the mighty viking crumbling before her. Her task is deeper than simply cleaning him from last night's rendezvous. How small she looks below him, bent and crouched and rubbing along him. A smirk forms at his lips and abruptly he jolts. Rag meets his vulnerability and a guttural sound flows from now parted lips. Open palm slams against the marble wall, such a subtle act of hers elicits such a massive response from the viking. Literally. She takes her time here, revenge for the way he handled her merely moments prior. And he relishes in it. Another version of an asskicking from her but with this one, he won't complain.

However she stops, the moment is brief and that is when it dawns on him. Even with all her boldness, even with all her powerful actions, she is shy. This isn't good. He tenses again, looking down at her with an estranged look she may not be able to comprehend. She is pure, innocent and although scars litter her bare body, a piece of her is untouched.

And he would be damned if anyone but him got to that piece of her.

Movement causes him to return from his thoughts, her leg sliding along his thigh and wrapping around him. Her body heat is intoxicating as she rises, climbing upon him and attaching herself. He can feel himself rising, arms naturally coming to slide along her thigh as those rough hands slide underneath her, helping to hold herself up as she continues the task. He watches her, watching him, her fingers casually tracing his scars as if they mesmerize her just as she mesmerizes him. Fingers lace through his beard, the air smelling of mixed body pheromones and coconut soap. He hums, a gentle rumble in his throat as she finishes up her work.

A job well done.

She leans to him, lips pressing against his cheek and a fire spreads through his face. "careful..." he rumbles, his voice husky from steam and desire. Calloused hands grip her smooth bottom, pulling her closer to him in such a possessive manner. His other hand slides from her flesh, opening the glass door to free them of their glass prison. The water remains on, and he ignores it, a distraction holding his attention. He moves through the bathroom, eyes locked on to her small face. The bedroom door is open, the room far too bright for someone like him. White linens match the see through curtains of at least ten windows, allowing streams of light to break through. Her body shines in his arms. The water drips from his marred flesh, ignoring the need for a towel, as he moves her to the bed. Hand slides behind her back as he lowers her to the fresh bedding. His other hand remains upon her bottom, pushing her up with just enough force to get her head upon a fluffed pillow. The viking moves towards her, icy shards locked on to her as he settles atop her. It is here he lowers his lower body in between her, using his knee to prop open those thighs. He settles his hips against her own, but does not enter. Though he can feel his heartbeat down below against the heat of her, he will not.

Elbows are used to prop up his upper half, water dripping from chest hairs to lightly fall upon her bare chest like the softest of kisses. That hand lifts, brushing away hairs from her forehead. How small she is, practically buried beneath that hulk of a man. How silent he has been with her, how gentle, it is not like him at all, just ask the dames from the dive bars and hotels. He lowers himself, allowing his chest to fall to the side of her and allow her room to breathe as thick arm comes to rest across her. His palm opens, resting upon her breast as thumb traces casual circles across her nipples. His head falls upon the pillow, beard gracing her forehead as he breathes her in. "hungry?" he was, and in reply his own stomach growls. Though for a moment he would risk it, wanting to lay bare and intimate with her, at peace.

Iórkæll dværg