nathaniel_kitten | (no subject)

(no subject)

For whatever reason, when Nathaniel arrives home, Anita isn't there.

He's mildly relieved at that as he shuts the door and locks it. Micah wasn't there, either. He didn't really expect anyone to be.

Nathaniel walks through the darkened house, towards the bathroom on the main floor, thinking he should shower before getting ready for bed. He was certain she'd be home by sunrise, and if she wasn't, Micah would be.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Damian does his best not to overtly stare at Nathaniel as he steps into the tub and pulls the curtain over to keep the spray of the water inside. He wastes no time, since there truly is no time to waste. Picking up the bottle of shampoo, he leans in to Nathaniel's ear to ask, "More comforting for me to wash your hair or your body?"

It's an honest question. Truly it is.

Nathaniel opens his eyes, smiling faintly.

"Can you wash my hair without knotting it?"

It's an honest question.

With hair that pretty much reaches Nathaniel's ankles when wet, the most realistic answer he can give is, "I can try."

"You need to use a lot of shampoo. Quite a lot, really."

He grabs the bottle and squirts a decent amount into his hand, the scent of rich vanilla filling the steamy room. Nathaniel rubs it together and begins to gently comb it through from scalp to shoulders.

"Like that, but you have to keep doing it from top to bottom."

"Why do I have the feeling this is a skill that I will never use on another man?" Usually he wouldn't put forth the rhetorical question, but if it would provide Nathaniel with amusement, he was willing to speak unnecessary words.

Taking up the shampoo, he adds more into his own, larger hands and follows Nathaniel's example, beginning the rather arduous task of washing the man's hair. He purposefully combs through the hair in such a way that his hands and forearms still touch Nathaniel's back.

A purr is added to the rushing sound of the water as Nathaniel surrenders to the gentle calm of someone washing his hair.

"Because most men cut their hair."

Jason was still trying to get him to cut his.

Damian won't admit how much he likes the sound of Nathaniel's purr. Not directly anyway. He works in relative silence for a couple minutes, managing to lather the full length of hair and only knot it once. He is determined, though, and quickly remedies the knot.

"Turn and rinse, kausi," he murmurs, knowing he can be heard above the water.

"What is it with you vampires and not using English?" he laughs, shoving his head back under the water.

It takes him a good chunk of time to rinse the soap from his hair, and then wring it out so it could take the conditioner. He hands Damian the cream.

"I would be crazy not to condition this. I'd never get a comb through it."

Damian manages a low chuckle. "It feels a little more natural to speak in a native language, no matter how well you learn another." He can speak practically fluent English and German, but they will never feel the same way rolling on his tongue as Finnish and Old Norse do. Language is one of the few ways he can honour the time and place he came from. It is a piece of who he was before he became what he is.

Taking the conditioner in hand, he combs back through the mahogany curtain, roots to tips, his hands sliding down the length of Nathaniel in the process.

The tension finally begins to ease from Nathaniel's body, the purr settling nicely in his throat.

"You didn't have to shower with me," he murmurs, "but I'm glad you did."

"I wish there was more I could do," Damian admits, his voice equally soft as he finishes with Nathaniel's hair. Moving it over one shoulder, he runs his hands and nails lightly along Nathaniel's bare skin. A sigh escapes him, so slight that he almost believes it will be lost in the sounds of the shower.

Sensual without being sexual. He does try not to cross that line.

Nathaniel turns, a shiver running along his skin at the touch of nails, and stares at Damian. He thinks to call attention to that sigh, to the caress, but he simply blinks and leans back into the water, rinsing the condition from his hair.

Damian stares back, not allowing his eyes to move lower than what would be decent. The need to touch again rises up in him, though, and he can't help himself. Stepping close, he reaches around Nathaniel and combs his fingers through the long hair, which feels like liquid silk with the water running over it.

He hadn't been put in a position where he could touch and be touched like this in a very long time. The moments are limited, and he doesn't want to waste them. His lips are at the level of Nathaniel's forehead at such close proximity, and he murmurs, "Dawn is nearly here..."

His eyes open slowly, and he tilts his head up some to look at Damian.

"I can finish washing by myself," he says, voice low. "Thank you... for being here."

He wraps his arms around Damian's waist and presses their bodies together, hugging the vampire. It isn't sexual, even though he could make it such. It's a friendly gesture, one of common need for reassurance and comfort.

Given silent permission, he accepts and returns the embrace, giving and taking all he can through the wonderful warmth of the touch. It is all the comfort he could ask for, and he feels some of his ever-present tension ease out.

He controls his reactions expertly, giving Nathaniel a simple nod and gentle smile that doesn't quite match the lingering sadness and worry in his eyes.

"If nightfall comes and you need me, you know where I will be."

As much as he wants to stay close, he forces himself away, pulling back the curtain and stepping from the shower. A sense of urgency comes over him, and he tries to dry himself quickly. The pull is beginning. He will have to sprint.

Nathaniel draws the curtain closed again, listening to Damian as the vampire dries off. He huddles under the hot water, the heat working on his muscles, the water stinging Asher's most recent bite mark. He'd wash swiftly, and then get ready for bed. Exhaustion pulls at him. A door closing told him either Anita or Micah had come home, and the scent he picks up is the latter.

At least he wouldn't be sleeping alone.

A soft curse in a foreign language lilts through the steam with the rustling of fabric.

"Looks like I'm going to trust you with my reputation," Damian says in a rushed, but amused voice. "Sleep well, Nat. And good luck."

The door to the bathroom opens and closes. A muffled, awkward greeting and Damian's voice fades as he flees to the sanctuary of Anita's basement.

Nathaniel chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the soap.

His hand touches the tender area of his throat, and he sighs.

If things weren't complicate enough already, they were about to get much more so.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only