[ really, he should be used to this. he kind of is, in a way; but the request is so sudden it throws him for a loop. even turned a bit to the side, fiddling with his clothes, he finds his anxious gaze sliding to her as she lets her hair fall into slightly knotted waves of red. he wonders, wonders what happened for her to feel this way and lets it gnarl in his chest, but that is for her to keep to herself until she decides she wants to tell.
if she does. as much as he wants to know, there are things that have happened to him, and he has not told a soul. he cannot blame her if she desires to do the same.
as a force of habit, even in their shared apartment, he finds himself doublechecking the door before turning to the running water. andrew wrings his hands once more, gingerly stepping over the clothes on the floor before sucking in a small breath and slipping into the shower itself. it's a bit more crowded with two people, but there's enough room at least that he isn't quite touching her...yet, anyway. amidst the steam and spray, he finds himself watching her scrub her face, frowning lightly as blond strands start to stick to his face. he raises a hand, not grasping her hand but obviously wanting to intervene in some way. ]
I-If...! If you do that too harshly, you'll hurt yourself.
[ hypocritical of him, honestly. but he's already scarred, a canvas of the past, so it's fine. she, however, is not. and he doesn't want her to hurt herself in one way or the other. ]
Pain I've given to myself. If I could just rewrite today--...
[Fiona cuts off on a cracking note, pitched high with frustration. He has a point, and she shouldn't distress him more than she already has when there are more requests to be made. (Plus, once this is all over, she would be very upset at herself for damaging her skin!) So the priestess pulls her hands away and moves her face up into the hot spray for a few seconds, then turning to Andrew. View partially obscured by dripping, stray hair, Fiona finally looks Andrew in the eye. She doesn't even bat an eyelash at their undressed states.]
I would rather it be you I remember. [She pushes back the mess of red to reveal her ear. There's bark under her damaged fingernails as Fiona touches the outer lobe:] Please bite me. Mark me anywhere. Anything. I don't care if it hurts-- I simply...prefer yours over another's.
[ he feels his face crumple further at the insinuation it's fine if it's herself, words cut off and yet cutting deep in the same moment. he isn't...good with things like this, other people's grief, which is why his hands hesitate as he lets them hover over her shoulders, moments before they pull back as she turns to face him. the look on her face...he doesn't like it, and he's sure it shows. ]
W-What-? [ andrew fumbles a bit, watching her lift dirty fingernails to reveal her ear. her request clearly throws him off guard, eyes widening as rivulets of hot water stream down his face. ] You want me to-?!
[ he thinks...maybe, maybe he can understand. but she's asking something of him he'd never want to do, and he finds himself lifting shaky hands to push her hair out of her face, wrapping one around the hand brushing her earlobe. his thumb anxiously swipes over her cheek, red from the steam and the scrubbing, frown heavily marring his already scarred features. ]
I...I don't want to hurt you... [ no, never. the idea sinks deep in his gut and writhes uncomfortably, as if it brings up something he'd rather not remember. ] You- I'll do whatever else you want me to, j-just don't ask me to...cause you more harm.
[Although it had started out with a pleading stare, Fiona's features soften slowly by surely as Andrew worries over her. His touch is soothing despite being the complete opposite of what the priestess requested. Perhaps, she thinks, she was going down the wrong path. With him especially.]
...That's what I love about you. [Beneath the prickly, defensive walls he puts up, Andrew is gentle at his core.
So Fiona relents, quiet and closing her eyes to his touch, feeling the water wash away the sweat, dirt, and disgust. Overwriting the memory isn't an option anymore. As for overwhelming it...Possibly. Again, it's all up to Andrew. Which is why Fiona's voice ends up barely audible above the running shower:]
...Will you make love to me instead?
[She can only imagine that his frown will deepen at the request.]
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if she does. as much as he wants to know, there are things that have happened to him, and he has not told a soul. he cannot blame her if she desires to do the same.
as a force of habit, even in their shared apartment, he finds himself doublechecking the door before turning to the running water. andrew wrings his hands once more, gingerly stepping over the clothes on the floor before sucking in a small breath and slipping into the shower itself. it's a bit more crowded with two people, but there's enough room at least that he isn't quite touching her...yet, anyway. amidst the steam and spray, he finds himself watching her scrub her face, frowning lightly as blond strands start to stick to his face. he raises a hand, not grasping her hand but obviously wanting to intervene in some way. ]
I-If...! If you do that too harshly, you'll hurt yourself.
[ hypocritical of him, honestly. but he's already scarred, a canvas of the past, so it's fine. she, however, is not. and he doesn't want her to hurt herself in one way or the other. ]
no subject
[Fiona cuts off on a cracking note, pitched high with frustration. He has a point, and she shouldn't distress him more than she already has when there are more requests to be made. (Plus, once this is all over, she would be very upset at herself for damaging her skin!) So the priestess pulls her hands away and moves her face up into the hot spray for a few seconds, then turning to Andrew. View partially obscured by dripping, stray hair, Fiona finally looks Andrew in the eye. She doesn't even bat an eyelash at their undressed states.]
I would rather it be you I remember. [She pushes back the mess of red to reveal her ear. There's bark under her damaged fingernails as Fiona touches the outer lobe:] Please bite me. Mark me anywhere. Anything. I don't care if it hurts-- I simply...prefer yours over another's.
no subject
W-What-? [ andrew fumbles a bit, watching her lift dirty fingernails to reveal her ear. her request clearly throws him off guard, eyes widening as rivulets of hot water stream down his face. ] You want me to-?!
[ he thinks...maybe, maybe he can understand. but she's asking something of him he'd never want to do, and he finds himself lifting shaky hands to push her hair out of her face, wrapping one around the hand brushing her earlobe. his thumb anxiously swipes over her cheek, red from the steam and the scrubbing, frown heavily marring his already scarred features. ]
I...I don't want to hurt you... [ no, never. the idea sinks deep in his gut and writhes uncomfortably, as if it brings up something he'd rather not remember. ] You- I'll do whatever else you want me to, j-just don't ask me to...cause you more harm.
no subject
...That's what I love about you. [Beneath the prickly, defensive walls he puts up, Andrew is gentle at his core.
So Fiona relents, quiet and closing her eyes to his touch, feeling the water wash away the sweat, dirt, and disgust. Overwriting the memory isn't an option anymore. As for overwhelming it...Possibly. Again, it's all up to Andrew. Which is why Fiona's voice ends up barely audible above the running shower:]
...Will you make love to me instead?
[She can only imagine that his frown will deepen at the request.]