In the Kitchen: Ram/Java

[_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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[_java_]

Java's eyes flashed wide in surprise as Ram swept her off her feet, one arm instinctively hooking itself around his neck in the moment it took for shock to fade to a sly smile. No one ever even touched Java normally, and certainly no one ever scooped her up in their arms; it made her feel strangely vulnerable... She glanced down at the strong arms that held her, at the torso that supported them; how incredible... Her eyes traveled back up to his, clear and green and quizzical, and Java's smile softened very slightly. She could escape, of course, if she wanted, but then Ram wasn't trying to keep her captive. There was nothing he wanted, no scheme or mission he needed her for; he held her to him because he wanted to...

"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.

[virtual_ram]

[OOC: Continued here.]