Chapter Text
When Cersha returned to her chamber, she was not surprised to see Davos perched on the bay windowsill, his fingers laced around his bent knee while his injured leg stretched out beside him. She had expected him to be blistering mad at her abrupt dismissal earlier that afternoon, but he was a vision of weary resignation as his forehead rested on the glass. The watery light filtered through the fresh linen shirt he had dressed in, showing the curve of his torso and the sinewy length of his arms. He lifted his head and smiled as the door creaked shut, she saw that he was rid of the patchy beard that had grown in the twelve days since the battle. Had it really been such a short time?
“My, I’ve never seen you so clean.” She teased.
“All in service of you, my lady.” He got shakily to his feet and bowed mockingly.
“Davos, please.” She sighed, the elation of her epiphany at the sept already waning.
“What?” He cocked his head to the side and offered a slanted smirk. “I’m your sworn protector, aren’t I? Chastely sworn… we both know how that turned out, now don’t we?”
She reddened at the memory of his lips stamping wet marks across her skin. She said nothing, only rolling her eyes. He sat back heavily on the sill and clucked his tongue.
“Were you sitting on that lie for long?”
“Only since…” She drifted off, feeling a wave of residual panic at the memory of the night before. Davos’ face softened and she shied away from the earnestness of it. “Look, I’m sorry. I am. I just, I wasn’t sure how Oscar would take it if he knew who you were or that a Blackwood had killed a Night’s Watchman on his land, I thought he might…”
“Execute me on the spot?”
“No! No, he’d never kill unless he had to. I was afraid he may send you back to your family to be punished for desertion, or that he might have just thrown you in the dungeon or something for starting this whole mess.”
“’Starting this whole mess,’ is that what you think? Is that why you still don’t trust me after all we’ve been through?”
“No! You were defending your family’s honour, I cannot fault you that, but the battle began with the swing of your sword. That is the truth. I feared Oscar’s retribution, but his ire is for the lord regent who instructed the default on the assize.”
“Always trying to protect me, aren’t you? What ire could that boy have? He looks as if-”
“As much ire as I’ll have if you speak ill of him.” He just scoffed and shook his head. “Asides, it matters not. Oscar recognised you.”
“I could have told you that,” He said. “If you’d only told me of your plans.”
“I see that now.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I surmised you would not take kindly to concealing your identity from the regent high lord. I did not want to fight you.”
“Why?” His expression darkened as he pushed to his feet and limped a step closer to her. “Are you afraid of me?” A step closer. “Think I might kill you?”
Another step closed the gap between them, his hand coming to rest feather-light on her neck. Her eyelids drooped as the tickles of his callouses fizzed through her brain.
“We’ve come this far crow boy.” She looked up through her lashes, seeing him obscured behind soft focus and beige streaks. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.” She pressed forward until there was a slight pressure on her throat. “I’ve seen the fire in you, but I’m not scared. It burns for me, does it not?”
“Aye.” He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his pupils blew out into glossy black discs in the confines of his dark eyes. “All for you, my lady.”
That was enough to make her melt into his touch, savouring the warm, full feeling that radiated from his rough hand as it formed the perfect collar around her swan-curved neck. That feeling, not of possession but of belonging, as people sometimes belong to each other. Her hands found his neck in some attempt to mirror the experience back to him, thumbs stroking the smooth skin from his ears to his collarbones as his eyes drifted closed. His breaths grew ragged as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.
“I think…” His nose brushed hers, lips so close that every breath was a heady exchange of essence, hearts racing in syncopated time. “...I want to know what it’s like to kiss you.”
“Is that so surprising?” Her fingers stroking his jaw pulsed a rhythm in his veins.
“I don’t kiss.” He growled weakly, stomach fluttering like a virgin maid.
“Why?” Her breath on his lips was the ghost of a kiss.
“Brings all sorts of… feelings.” Her hands were in his hair now, scratching gently at his scalp and savouring the rabbity softness of his freshly washed locks until blissful tremors weakened his knees.
“Is that such a bad thing?” He let go of a whimper as she rubbed her nose against his.
“If I kiss you, I’ll never stand to be parted from you. I’ll have to marry you.”
She pulled back, all the silvery feeling rushing through the channel of their meeting eyes.
“Kiss me.”
In that soft afternoon light, safe at last behind the stony battlements with the dull roar of the rushing moat shielding them from silence, in a room lovingly furnished with the colours of their liege, with the perfumed steam from the bath behind the fish mural divider wreathing around them, they shook off their houses like two bucks losing their antlers in spring. It was as if there had been a levee between them, weeping water from long spiderweb cracks, and now the stones came bursting out and there it was. The torrent of feeling, the lips parting, the passion, the crush, the smelting together of two beings in this primeval ritual.
At last they broke apart, her gasping for air and him kissing down her neck, whining against her perfect skin.
“Davos.” She panted. He nipped her. She took a handful of black hair and tugged it firmly. “Davos!”
“Mm…” He tilted his head back and she saw his eyes clouded by lust.
“Behave.” She pecked his swollen lips. “I must bathe first. I stink.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face and he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply.
“You smell-” Sniff. “-fantastic.”
As she lifted her arm to push him away he stuck his face right into the pit and drew in a long breath.
“Like a woman.” He sighed dreamily and began peppering kisses across her chest.
“Get away!” She laughed, lifting her arms and throwing back her head to give him more access to the skin exposed by her dress. “You foul beast.”
He just chuckled and kissed all over her collarbones, bending double as she backed away until they bumped into the tub. He whined when he realised where they had ended up.
“Sweetling.” He pouted, trying to coax her back toward the bed.
“Davos, anyone would think you’re starving.” She rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile. “Come on. Won’t you wash my hair for me?”
“You know slavery is outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms?”
“Just get in the bath.” She pursed her lips derisively, letting her hands wander up under his shirt to explore the dips and curves of his back. “Just… soak with me for a while. Please?”
He scoffed and she could see him fighting against a blissful smile as her nails raked up his spine.
“Fine.”
“Thank you.” She murmured. “Was that so hard?”
He smiled in that exasperated way, peeled off his shirt and dropped his breeches and underclothes in a swift, practical motion. For an instant she was stunned by the beauty of him; the subtle dips and rises of muscle on his thin limbs and torso, the grazes, bruises and old faded scars that each served as a reminder of passionate fury roused when something he loved was at risk, and the supple pink skin of his dick that hung half-hard by his thigh.
“What?” He grinned. “Like what you see?”
“Your wound.” She pointed to the bandage on his thigh, trying to save face.
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you want me in the bath or not?”
She bit her lip.
“You can dress it again later.” He had pulled it off and clambered awkwardly into the milky water before she had the chance to protest, gripping both sides of the tub as he gingerly lowered himself down. “Gods, that’s lovely.”
“You’re always putting yourself in harm’s way for me.”
“You love it.” She did love it. “Though I hardly think a bath can be considered ‘harm’s way.’ Besides, this is far nicer than the bath they drew for me. Just hot water, a rag and a bar of soap. No…” He picked out a floating rose petal and inspected it before letting it float away like a grumpkin’s sailboat. “...luxury.”
She noticed then that she had indeed been showered in what little frills Riverrun could afford with an encroaching war. Roses from the gardens floating on water white from goat’s milk; she suspected from the lactonic, pastoral scent that it was not the cow’s milk favoured by most highborn ladies for bathing. The water was silky through her fingers, from salt and honey she assumed, and lavender oil turned the steam heavy and narcotic.
“The boy favours you still.” Davos remarked as he reached for a brown-skinned pear from the tray on the side table, cut in half and loaded high with soft cheese and a crust of walnuts, and popped the whole thing in his mouth, wiping the juice with the back of his hand.
“Enough about Oscar.” She flicked a scoop of water at him, making him sputter. “And don’t eat all those, I’m starving. Did they not feed you earlier?”
“They did, but I’m never satisfied, my lady.” He smiled sweetly. “Minnows and cress on toast, though the ones you catch are far sweeter.”
“Thank you.” She preened, though his flattery was obvious, and took a pear for herself, a little moan escaping her at the flavour. “I must confess, I have missed real food. I hope they give us lamb tonight, or veal. Something that’s fed on grass and hasn’t had to fight for every morsel-”
“Are you getting in or not?”
She huffed at his blunt tone and expectant face, and finished her pear in two irritated bites. The amusement on his face was almost enough to make her storm off, but stronger than the annoyance that was only heightened by the bubbling fear of removing her clothes in front of him was her desire to be close to him. She turned her back to him and unlaced her dusty riding gown, letting it fall in a heap at her feet. In just her smallclothes, she hesitated. His eyes burned her from behind as the air burned her from inside. She heard the water slosh and Davos’s hand found hers, dripping water on her gown.
“Hey.” He said softly, squeezing her hand gently until she turned and met his eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna laugh at you. Whatever you’re afraid of-” He tapped his temple. “It’s in here. I think you’re beautiful.”
She closed her eyes, letting the words settle inside her, then lifted his hand to the lacing on her top. In a few deft movements he had pulled it loose, letting her free herself from it along with the bottoms. Instinct told her to cover herself, but she balled her fists and held them at her sides, letting his gaze roam across her form. She had always thought of herself as ungainly, all sharp angles and no curves, but under his eyes she felt her jutting hip and shoulder bones held the beauty of an ancient gnarled willow, and her long sinewy arms still covered in dirt were like the wings of a falcon rising from a bath of dust. She was a dryad and she glowed.
“You are…” He kissed her hand. “…so…” Again. “...fucking…” Once more. “...gorgeous. Gods, I don’t know what you’ve done to me, woman. You’re all I ever think about.”
The haze of steam caught the candlelight and danced in wisps around him. His hair turned black as pitch in the damp, the blood rose to his cheeks, and beneath that deep grey, his eyes were so green. Green like moss and agate and beetle wings. He was made of frown lines and scars, taut muscle, crooked teeth and passion like fire.
“Davos.” Her hand found his face. “I meant to say before, but… I suppose I was frightened. But, you’re- you’re… a vision. I am so glad to have met you.”
She kissed him, and for a moment it was all lips and fig sweetness until he smiled against her.
“Get in the bath.”
“Fine.”
She tried to glower as she clambered in beside him, but the warm embrace of the water was far too enticing. The surface sloshed as he spread his knees, making room for her to sit between his legs, and the level rose so high it nearly ran over the edge when they were both settled.
“Was that so hard?” He mumbled as he kissed her shoulder.
“Shut up.”
They sat that way for a while, cloistered in hot silky water. She ate her pears and washed the dirt from her skin, and he hummed a ballad so sweet that she could have cried. When she was done he freed her filthy hair from the braid, lathered it with soap and washed it with deft fingers massaging her scalp. She could not help the little groans of satisfaction that escaped her at the gentle tickling touch. She could feel him pressing into her back as he fisted her wet hair tightly and let his lips rest flush against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending tingles to her toes.
“I’m warning you, my lady, if you keep making those filthy noises I might take right here in the bath.”
“Maybe you ought to.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Would you like that?” His lips parted to kiss her ear and she felt her eyes slip out of focus at the sensitivity there.
“ Please.”
His free hand found her nipple, already a hard, pink marble beneath the hot water, and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Her hips lifted and her hand fell between her spreading legs in an involuntary response.
“Please, please,” Came his rough whisper. “Please what, my lady?”
“Please…” She gasped. “Please touch me.”
“Where? Where can I touch to please you, my sweet-” Kiss. “-virtuous-” Kiss. “-Bracken-”
A slosh of water hit the ground as she whipped around and took hold of his cock, feeling it hard, yet supple under her grasp like a lance wrapped in silk. He whimpered as she pulled her hand in slow, deliberate motions around the head.
“If you don’t stop teasing me I’ll rip it off, I swear.”
“There she is.” He relinquished his grip on her hair as he rocked his hips, letting his length slide through her hand as he gripped her thighs. “There’s the fire.”
He pulled her legs apart without another thought and ran his fingers along her slit. She was slick where the water had not washed it away, and he could feel the folds of her were swollen blooms beneath the wiry swathe of hair. She jolted when he found that little button at the top, a high keening coming from her throat at that sweet agony.
“It’s okay now, my love.” He assured her.
“It’s…” She whined. “It’s so…”
“It’s so good, sweetling, I know. I know.”
He spread her open with one hand, pulling back the hood of skin that covered that nub and rubbed his fingers in steady circles, drawing moans from her like music from a harp. Her hips pushed up against him and she lost hold of his cock, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was that beautiful rhythm of her reaching for him, reaching for that incomprehensible height. His fingers slowed, he needed her lucid for a moment.
“Cersha.” He spoke against her ear. “Are you listening darling?”
“Mm.” She nodded, desperately pushing up against the minute rotations of his digits.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
She nodded again.
“On the inside?”
“No.” She shook her head, her voice strained. “Never inside.”
A puff of breath escaped him.
“Do you…” She panted. “Like that about me?”
“Does it make me… perverse if I do?” He growled. “If I want to claim you before anyone, before even you?”
“I want it to be you.” She admitted freely.
“Then it will be me.” He kissed her cheek reassuringly, his fingers circling her bud a faster now.
He worked on her for a while, bringing her back to the peak, and as pleasure rolled through her like white-capped waves, a finger plunged inside her. It slid in so easily that she scarcely registered the change until she grew aware of a strange tightening, and a thickness that she clenched against. She gasped, earning a chuckle from her lover.
“Is that good?”
She nodded, her hand flying to her mouth as he began to slowly, incrementally pump it in and out. Just as she was growing used to the rhythm, he curled his finger inwards and seemed to hit some strange point that sent a jolt of pleasure through her. She shrieked and covered her face.
“That’s good, isn’t it, sweetling?”
He nuzzled the side of her face as his fingers rapidly fluttered against her sweet spot, his palm bumping her bud, radiating syrupy, heady sensation. She gave a little yelp and buried her face in his neck, making him grin.
“More…” She managed to say. “...please.”
“As you wish.”
She felt empty for a moment as he drew back his finger, but soon enough she was gasping against the overflowing fullness of two thick, calloused digits drawing over that sponge of mystifying bliss.
“Gods, you’re tight.” He muttered darkly, thrusting them as deeply as he could.
“Davos, I think- I think I’m...”
“Let go, my love.” He whispered, his hand moving at an impossible pace. “Cum for me.”
It was those rough-spun words that were her undoing. She seized and gripped the bathtub, rolling over the wave of boiling pleasure. It was a brief thing, a blink of bliss wherein her thoughts were entirely drowned out, clenching rhythmically around his digits until she relaxed, flopping back against his silken torso. His arms found their way around her stomach and he squeezed her tight against him.
“You did so well, sweetling.” He rocked her gently for a while, until she felt strong enough to speak.
“That thing you did for me at the inn,” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “That thing you did with your mouth...”
“I ate out your cunny, sweetling, that’s what I did.” His eyes stirred with lust and mischief. “You want more?”
“No- yes, but no. I want to do it for you. I want to- to…”
“You want to suck my cock?” He put a hand to her cheek, his expression a mix of want and concern. “You don’t have to, Cersha. It’s gruelling work, I should know.”
“What do you mean?”
His cheeks tinted and a strange flash of agony passed over his face before he shook it away.
“Well, I’m no stranger to buggery, but I always preferred the fairer sex. Let’s leave it at that.” She felt a rush of curiosity at his words, and he must have noticed as he sighed moodily. “One day, I’ll tell you about the boy. I promise.” She swallowed her questions and nodded. “Shall we move to the bed?”
She got up eagerly, splattering more water onto the floor as she went, but was slightly alarmed to find her legs were already trembling. She offered Davos her hands, and he eyed them speculatively for a moment. She thought he might try to drag himself up on his own, but he took her help and soon they stood, holding one another as the water rolled off them in rivers. He giggled impishly, kissing her all over and before either of them knew it they were flopping down on the bed, still sopping wet like two otters in heat.
“We’re getting the sheets wet.” She protested weakly.
“We’ll sleep in my chambers.” He muttered, shuffling around until his injured leg had room to stretch out. “The bed is just as soft, if not so lovingly furnished.”
“Are you comfortable?” She fussed, hating the sight of his wound without a bandage. The messy sutures she had administered had been replaced by neat little stitches since they had arrived at Riverrun; the work of a Maester, Cersha supposed.
He put his hand to her cheek, a half-mocking look of amusement on his face.
“I am not made of glass. Now, are you sure you want to do this?” She nodded eagerly, and he guided her face gently downward. “Alright, I’ll show you how.”
She settled herself by his waist and watched, almost in awe, as he spit in his hand and gently tugged his length. The fold of skin pulled back and slipped easily up and down the moist, pink tip. He groaned lightly as he worked on himself, and in a few smooth strokes he had grown stiff and engorged. Cersha felt her mouth water, and was surprised to find that she felt no shame. She knew he would be big- in the pitch dark of that night in the inn, she had felt his impossible length slide through her hand- but nothing could have prepared her to actually see a man’s naked form, and it excited her more than she cared to admit.
“Put your mouth around the tip.” He instructed, using his free hand to gather her hair and hold it at the base of her neck. “Use your lips to block your teeth, that’s it, darling.”
She had to stretch her mouth wide to take him in, but it was worth it for the salty sweetness that spread across her tongue.
“Good girl.” He growled. “Good girl. Now feel around with your tongue. Do you feel that?That ridge, just there, right- right there.”
On the tip of her tongue rested a firm seam of skin, just at the base of the head. She flickered her tongue across it in a rapid flurry, and he whimpered. His hips lifting and an inch more of his length entered her mouth triggering a gulp of surprise.
“Oh, yes. Yes, sweetling that’s it, that’s it, just focus on the head.” With his hand in her hair he tenderly guided her head up and down, up and down, never forcing himself any deeper than she could comfortably take. “Bob your head like that, just take it in and out. You don’t-” He interrupted himself with a weak grimace. “-you don’t have to take it deep. It’s lovely if you do, but… but just do what you can, darling. Keep working with your tongue, you’re doing beautifully my love.”
He relinquished his grip on her hair, trusting her to keep up the rhythm, and wrapped his hand around his shaft, jerking himself into her mouth, while his other hand found his plump stones, rolling them in his palm. Cersha gripped his thighs, growing light-headed as she moaned and slurped around the size of him. It seemed he had given up on words, and instead fell into a frenzy of… moans? No, growls. He was like an animal, half-way between deep rumbles and high keening whines, his hips rolling and thrusting upward, seeming to forget his earlier gentleness. She took him deeper, gagging as he hit the back of her throat. Before she knew it, his hands were on her forehead and he was pushing her off of him.
“Did- did I bite you?” She gasped.
“No! Darling, no, I made you gag.” He struggled to sit up and held her face in his hands, stroking her hair, his face a mask of concern. “I cannot believe I did that, I’m so sorry, Cersha.”
“You didn’t mean to!” She eagerly reached for him again, but he caught her hand and kissed them all over.
“Still.” He implored. “I’m sorry. Besides, we had to stop. I would have finished in your mouth, I’m sure you wouldn’t like that.”
She considered for a moment.
“I… I suppose not.”
His face softened sympathetically.
“I want you to… to, um, to cum, though. It’s only fair.”
He chuckled at her choice of words and kissed her forehead.
“I can use my hand, if only you kiss me while I do it.” He gauged her disappointment with an impish smirk. “Or… I could fuck you, I suppose. If you want me to, that is.”
“Oh, please!”
He tossed his head back and laughed, pulling her into his embrace.
“Oh, my girl…” He pushed her wet hair away from her eyes. “I would work for hours like a draft horse if it would please you.”
He struggled to heave himself up, but she pushed him back by the shoulders. He made a little oof sound and his puggish nose crinkled in annoyance.
“I’m not an invalid.”
“I’d rather it this way.”
A grin dimpled his cheeks and his eyes glittered.
“Oh, really?” She just smiled knowingly and set about piling up pillows behind him to prop him up. He sighed dreamily. “I feel like a princess.”
“Prince of Crows,” She murmured, straddling him. “On a weirwood throne… with…” Her fingertips found his forehead. “…a red eye.”
He noticed her eyes had crossed out of focus, half closed. He took her by the arms and gave her a gentle shake that seemed to rouse her.
“You’re a witch, Bracken.” He laughed, though his heart thundered in his chest.
“I get it from my mother.” She shook her head, giggling nervously. “Anyway…”
Her hand reached between her legs to find his cock, stroking it gently. He laughed airily, happy to forget her strange words. The calloused pads of his fingers found their way to slide along her slit, and he scoffed.
“Gods, you get wet from nothing.” He seemed almost annoyed as he sunk two digits into her with no resistance. “Soaking wet…”
He withdrew and held up his fingers to show the glistening slickness that coated them, then slid them into his mouth. She gasped as he wantonly swirled his tongue around them, and pulled them out with a pop.
“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.” He told her. “The only one I ever wish to taste again. I suppose mine could not have been such a joy to sample.”
“It was beautiful.” She kissed him, catching the ghost of herself on his lips. “You are beautiful.”
“Ah, I’m a busted old thing.” He flushed, lining himself up with her entrance. “But, thank you all the same, my lady.”
She felt the very tip of him sliding into her, and she hesitated.
“Davos, I… I do not wish to have a child.”
He palmed her cheek, as he loved to do.
“Then no child you shall have. I will spill myself upon your stomach every night until we are married, and every night thereafter until you feel the time is right.”
“And if I do not wish to marry?”
“Then unmarried we shall be.”
“And if I never want a child?” She thought of her mother then, the screams, the smell of blood like iron…
A pained expression crossed his face, but it was gone as soon as it was there.
“Then no child you shall have.”
“Do you promise?”
“On mine honour.” She searched his eyes for a sign of dishonesty, but found none, so she nodded.
She sunk down onto him, feeling her inner muscles clench and tent out as they adjusted to the thickness prising them apart. It hurt, it could not be avoided, his girth was simply too great. At the alert of her pained whimpers, he gripped her hips, holding her up until he was sure she had taken enough time to grow used to the feeling. He held her steady as she incrementally shimmied down, down, down until he bottomed out with an inch or two to spare. She cried out as she felt him pressing his bruising tip into her roof, but by then it had become a good pain, a cleansing pain.
“My girl.” He murmured. “My sweet girl.”
She lifted up from her knees, focusing on that exquisite feeling of his veins and ridges sliding against her walls, then lowered back down. Up and down, up and down, she repeated the action until she noticed he was holding his breath.
“Is that alright?”
“Yes,” He managed to utter, panting. “Gods, you’re just so tight. I can’t… I can’t see myself lasting long at this rate.”
She giggled as he whined, his hands finding her buttocks and bouncing her up and down on his rigid length, deeper and harder until she collapsed against him, grasping him like a tree in a windstorm. She grunted as he adjusted her on his lap and hit that sweet place inside her.
“Oh, fuck!” She hissed.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” His hot breath passed across her ear. “That’s the spot.”
“Oh, gods, Davos…”
He pumped upwards as he bounced her, and she felt his tip rubbing across her sweet spot before it punched against her roof, every single time. It was brutal, yet tender, and she could feel his restraint. She knew then that this man could fuck like an animal if she set him loose.
“You’re my girl.” He insisted. “Say you’re my fucking girl.”
“I’m y-your…” She spluttered. “I’m…”
Suddenly it stopped. He held her up, nothing but the tip left in her. She wriggled in his grasp, desperate for that overwhelming in-out-in-out-in-out.
“Say it, sweetling.” He cooed.
“I-I’m your girl.”
“Fuckin’ aye, you are.”
He plunged her back down, filling her in one thrust. Wave after wave of pleasure built up inside her, pump after pump, after pump until she had to bite into his shoulder to contain the half shrieking moans that had taken over her speech. It was this that broke his restraint, and as his thrusts grew sloppy, he slammed into her, fingers digging into her bony frame so harshly that they would have drawn blood were his nails longer.
“I’m c-”
The climax struck her dumb and she let out a guttural snarl as it seized all sense and reason from her. She clenched on his cock, still incessantly moving inside her, again, again, again, her eyes rolling, white fishes shimmering across her vision, until finally-
“ Fuck!”
He pulled out, furiously rubbing his jerking his cock as he reached his own peak, his body stiffening and writhing as he spilled his hot seed onto her stomach. When he was done, he paused for a moment, eyes glazed and staring at nothing, until he noticed her and a flash of feeling passed across them. He did not hesitate to pull her to him, the strength of his arms evident as he crushed her against his torso, caring nothing for the stickiness there. It was then that she realised she was weeping. For what, she did not know. Perhaps, just the beauty of it all.
“Shh, shh.” His voice was flute soft again. “My beautiful girl.”
When she had regained some composure, she cleared her throat, forehead resting against his.
“I fear we need another bath.”