In the Kitchen: Ram/Java
By the time that breakfast was said and done, with the dishes cleaned and placed back in the cupboard, Java's happiness over what had happened the night before was slowly giving way to reservations. Setting the dish towel on the counter, she slipped around behind her husband as they stood in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around his waist and
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Her hand trailed down to the side of his neck, and Java instinctively wondered, for perhaps the twentieth time in as many hours, what chance she would stand against him were he to attack her. No one could touch Ram in Reality Space, of course, but she had always taken particular pleasure in knowing that, no matter what power her husband might possess there, she was still his protector in the real world. And, no matter how he might delight in condescending to her, Java had always known that, if it came down to it, he was helpless in his own body; she could have easily ripped his throat out should it have been necessary. But now, as her fingertips slipped down the muscles of his neck, down the smoothness of his throat, to the lean muscles of his chest, Java realized that she was no longer so confident with him. If Ram's combat training in Reality Space had had the same real-world benefits as hers... She had never thought of her husband as a warrior, never thought of him as a worthy opponent physically, but now, with him gripping her by the scruff of the neck, his scent heady and primal, she suddenly saw him in a whole new light...
Java took a voluntary step toward him, her index finger making a slow, idle circle on his chest, and looked up at her husband with eyes both provocative and vaguely challenging. "Your shower," she reminded him, as her other hand moved from forearm to waist, "Lord Ram."
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"Yes, of course Java," he responded to her reminder of a shower, "I do need a shower, and so do you." With that he scooped her up into his arms and started for the shower. "You could scrub my back," he added with a devilish little smile.
He'd never picked someone up in reality before, it really made him feel strong. It also suddenly made Java seem much smaller, and lighter, than he had ever thought of her. The change in perspective was phenomenal. It was like holding a hand grenade; tiny little package, but capable of quite a lot of damage. Ram's eyes traveled over Java as if he were examining a novelty, a look of slight puzzlement on his face.
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"I could scrub a lot more than that," Java mused, one brow arching suggestively as Ram carried her down the hallway. Her fingers slipped into his hair, raking it back from his forehead, as her gaze slipped meaningfully downward. "I'll make sure you're," and her eyes darted back to his, sparkling wickedly, "thoroughly clean..." She was a little concerned about what a joint shower might mean for her braids, but the idea of watching the water bead on his skin was too enticing-- and if there was anything left of the hygienically obsessive man Java had married, she couldn't wait to see his reaction to a woman covered in bubbles.
Java leaned down in his arms, twisting slightly to open the doorknob, and let her lover carry her in and set her down. The tiles were pleasantly cold on the bottoms of her feet, and, with the warmth of Ram's body removed from her, Java was surprised to find that she was actually almost chilly. She bent over slightly, her back subtly arched, and turned on the tub's faucet, letting it get good and warm. She admired the running water for a handful of seconds, a slight rush of pride filling her at the evidence of her husband's genius, and then untied her robe. With an inviting glance over her shoulder at her husband, Java let the silk fall to the floor, and, fully nude, stepped into the shower.
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