Demon's Journey

~ ZEV ~

The air in the cavern changed, zinging with tension, as Zev reached for the little shelf next to the fire and the stack of dry, clean cloths there, and a cake of soap.

She was right, the pot would take forever to boil. But it wouldn't take long to warm a little. He knew he was more accustomed than her to the pure winter cold of Thana. So he offered her the cloth on an open palm and raised an eyebrow. "I volunteer to use the cold water—if you'll help."

Sasha's mouth tipped up on one side, and without another word she plucked the cloth out of his hand and stepped around him to the pot over the fire, dropping it in to soak, then turning to scan him from head to toe. "You're going to have to take your clothes off."

He didn't need to be asked twice, untying his furs and shucking them off, then stepping into the wide bath and standing there, hands at his sides.

Sasha's eyes went wide and she scanned him from head to toe, her eyes raking every plane and ripple of his muscles, following every line.

Her throat bobbed and his cock twitched.

Then, without another word she turned back to the pot over the fire. She was reaching into it for the cloth when she froze, and for a second Zev worried she'd changed her mind, but then with an audible swallow, she pushed the jacket off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms, baring her from the waist up.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Her leggings had sagged down to her hips, the waistline dropping just far enough to bare just a hint of the crease at the top of her buttocks. He wanted to put his hand there, to fill his palm with the soft curve of her, but then she looked at him over her shoulder, and he followed the gorgeous line of her up—her waist nipped in over those hips, the dip that followed her spine, the softer lines of muscle and bone in her back…

She was tiny and breakable, and strong and beautiful and he groaned with wanting her.

Then she took a deep breath, grabbed the cloth out of the water and turned to face him where he stood in the bath.

Her cheeks were hot, and she didn't quite meet his eyes as she slapped the cloth to his shoulder and squeezed it against his skin, watching the water trickled down his chest and abdomen, her eyes widening as she followed the line of it past his hip and—

Clearing her throat, she turned to get the cloth wet again, then brought it back, slapping it to the other shoulder and squeezing it out, watching again as the water followed the lines of his body and trickled all the way to his toes. Moving around him, she was careful to avoid his side where ethe dressing had been stuck to his skin with sap and honey, but patted gently around it, hissing when he flinched.

Then, she was in front of him again and she dunked the cloth into the water, then turned back to him, licking her lips as she reached for the soap in his hand. They both watched her lather the cloth, and begin to scrub.

The paint all over his skin had been smeared in the fight, but it was still difficult to get it off, with the oil and the time it had had to dye his skin. So Zev was treated to several minutes of her breasts bobbing as, holding his hip in one hand and using the cloth with the other, she scrubbed at his shoulders, chest, and abdomen.

His breathing got heavier, as did hers. He prayed she wasn't just panting from the exertion.

The longer she worked, the warmer the water got, and the longer her eyes would linger on his between tasks, until his fingers were twitching towards her with the urge to take her and pull her in.

She dropped the soap into the bath, then turned back to the pot, wetting it again and wringing it out over his shoulder on his good side.

Zev just watched her, his eyes lasers, piercing, examining every move, his body twitching with every bob and jiggle of her breasts. His heart thundering against his sore ribs and he didn't even care.

Cloth by cloth, she returned to the pot and brought it out, dripping to squeeze it over his skin until all of the suds and dirt were gone.

Then she stepped back and scanned him again, biting that lip until he wanted to put a hand up to tease it out from under her teeth.

But she grinned. "You're clean."

Zev dropped his chin and stared at her, his chest rising and falling far too fast. "Must be your turn then."

She licked her lips again and Zev almost howled. Then she handed him the cloth and reached for her leggings, pulling the bow he'd tied in them back at the house with quick, sharp tugs, letting them slap on the leather as she pulled them completely loose, then putting her thumbs under the waist band, and her eyes lifting to meet his again.

Zev's mouth went dry when she pushed them down so they slid down her legs, wiggling her hips to get them to drop all the way to her feet, then she stepped delicately out of them and finally, finally he could see her again, all of her.

Her hair, mussed by the wind and his hands, fell in loose, messy waves around her shoulders. She'd crossed her arms against the cold, but that only pressed her breasts up, as if she offered them. And when her eyes slid up to find his, her cheeks reddened.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sash," he croaked.

Reaching for her, he held her arms as she stepped into the big bath next to him, then pulled her against him to warm her—but his skin was cold from the water and she giggled, goosebumps peppering her skin all over.

Reaching for the towels on the shelf, Zev quickly, roughly, toweled himself dry, then pulled her into him again, taking her mouth and groaning when she opened to him, arching back to keep them pressed together.

"I'm going to make this very, very quick," he croaked. "Then we're getting in that bed, and we aren't getting out."

Sasha smiled, took his face in her hands, and kissed him, long and slow. "I would love that."