The Leypool, Part 2

 "get these wet clothes off. now."  his voice was a low command, the authority in it unquestionable.  

fang didn't argue.  she was exhausted, disoriented, and the weight of the heavy wet clothes felt oppressive.  she started with the hoodie, the magical water making it cling like a second skin.  as talon helped, their bodies brushed, a surprising warmth against her chilled flesh.  it was a purely functional touch, yet a shiver ran down her spine.  she was used to the gentle hugs of witches and tickling wings of fae in the covens where she worked, but the energy of his touch was different. it was intense, and so was her reaction. but nothing about waking up in a leypool was normal for her.

the flannel shirt followed, clinging to her curves.  she felt his breath catch as he helped her out of it, the wet t-shirt revealing the lacy of the bra beneath.  a blush warmed her cheeks, a reaction she couldn't quite understand.  it wasn't shame; it was something else, a strange mixture of vulnerability and… something akin to flattery… unsettling but also a bit exhilarating through her exhaustion. 

his hands were surprisingly gentle as he guided her, they carried an authority that both intimidated and comforted her.  there was an intensity in his gaze, a careful inspection that was both clinical and… something more.  she couldn't place it, but she felt the spark of energy between them in the small, confined space.  the bathroom felt like a cage, yet somehow, with him there, she felt a little safer.

the jeans were the hardest.  they were waterlogged from the leypool, the fabric tight and heavy like iron. she felt his hands on her thighs, his knuckles brushing against her skin as he helped her peel them down.  it was a purely functional touch, yet she felt a flicker of pleasure, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the cold.  she was acutely aware of her own body, of the way it felt under his gaze, under his touch.  it was a stark contrast to the usual detachment she experienced.

his eyes remained carefully professional, yet she caught glimpses of something else before he quickly masked it.  it was unsettling, yet oddly reassuring. it suggested that he wasn't entirely immune to her presence, or this unusual situation.  he was a powerful being, and yet, he seemed to be struggling to maintain control, and that was… intriguing.

as he helped her wrap the sheet around herself, she felt a strange mix of vulnerability and strength.  she was exposed, yet she was too injured to feel embarrassed in this moment of disorientation and exhaustion.  trust?  perhaps.  or perhaps it was simply a pragmatic assessment of the situation.  

his intention to help seemed honest, and in this moment, that was enough.  she felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile root growing in the midst of her confusion and fear.  the darkness that clung to her, the curse that the magical water had tried to cleanse, still lingered, but with him there, it was slightly less oppressive.