after thisIt was nearly dawn when Seth returned, still streaked in places with blood, sweat, grime, and other things better left unsaid. But he was whole, even if exhausted
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Ishtar, by now, is used to this. So she only rolls onto her back and gives him an arch look as he flops onto the bed in a cloud of dried blood, dirt, and ... she doesn't want to think about what else.
"Is any of that yours?" she nodded at one thing she was pretty sure was a bloodstain.
"There was a dragon?" she rolled onto her side to match him, smiling.
All right, yes, she did want to hear about the dragon. But ... "You didn't wash enough. I don't want to be tasting dirt and shit every time I kiss you." Not on the mouth, either.
"Of course not," she murmured, looking him over. "Why should they? You don't."
And then the water came. She dipped the sponge in the water, began to scrub over his body and wash the dirt away with careful attention.
Also probably less than prurient attention, but this was her husband she was washing here. She was perfectly within her rights to fondle and grope as she washed.
She thinks about telling him that he would have if he'd thought of it first, but decides not to. He's settling down; she doesn't need to get him all revved up again.
Not in anger, anyway.
Bit by bit, she peels off the dirty clothes and scrubs off the caked grime underneath, wringing out the sponge every so often. And she has to refill the water twice.
"There, now," she murmurs when she's done, tucking her head to his shoulder and kissing at the curve of his neck. "That's better.
He ran his fingertips through her hair, "mmmm and now that you have me all clean, what do you plan on doing with me? Will I be put on a pedestal lest I get dirty again?"
"Hah." She wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh, you'll get dirty again, I have no doubt about it. But now..."
She moved in a little closer. "At least I won't taste unsavory things when I do this." And she licked a slow, wet line along his collarbone to his throat, nipping when she got there.
"Is any of that yours?" she nodded at one thing she was pretty sure was a bloodstain.
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He hadn't gotten out utterly unscathed, after all.
He turned his head to look over at her with an arch look of his own, "should I have said it all was? Would you nurse me back to health?"
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And she loved him. But part of loving him was never saying that out loud.
She looked at him up and down critically. "You need a bath."
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He rolled onto his side to face her, "don't you want to hear about the dragon?'
He wondered if there were any more like it. Those scales would come in handy...
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All right, yes, she did want to hear about the dragon. But ... "You didn't wash enough. I don't want to be tasting dirt and shit every time I kiss you." Not on the mouth, either.
She waved a hand to summon a servant for water.
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But he sighed, acquiescing to her will. Not that he truly minded.
"A very large dragon," he nodded, "that came up out of the earth. Our enemies apparently don't believe in fighting fairly."
So says Set, the [insert evil/dark descriptor here] of the Egyptians as if he has any room to talk.
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And then the water came. She dipped the sponge in the water, began to scrub over his body and wash the dirt away with careful attention.
Also probably less than prurient attention, but this was her husband she was washing here. She was perfectly within her rights to fondle and grope as she washed.
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But then she was washing him and he didn't feel so inclined to be growly.
Well, not that sort of growly, anyway.
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Not in anger, anyway.
Bit by bit, she peels off the dirty clothes and scrubs off the caked grime underneath, wringing out the sponge every so often. And she has to refill the water twice.
"There, now," she murmurs when she's done, tucking her head to his shoulder and kissing at the curve of his neck. "That's better.
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He sounded amused.
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She moved in a little closer. "At least I won't taste unsavory things when I do this." And she licked a slow, wet line along his collarbone to his throat, nipping when she got there.
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