“...get me his jacket.” As told, Charon removed Ahzrukhals' blood stained jacket, shaking out the caps and lint before holding it out to her, averting his eyes from her breasts as she shrugged the disgusting thing on with a hollowness that ate at him like maggots at dead flesh.
“...thanks...” she muttered, folding up the stained contract into a small square and stuffing it in the inside pocket of the jacket....where it'd been for so long now...only the one inside the suit was different now...
Charon watched her, anxiety rising the longer she acted as though he'd done nothing wrong. Waiting for her to dish out justice could have been part of his punishment, for the passing minutes ached with growing degree. He wasn't sure, but when she turned around with the bloodied knife in her hand; fresh from Ahzrukhal's neck, Charon watched her and waited. But he didn't expect her to say anything...
“I am angry.” she noted, and Charon almost snorted in laughter as the largest understatement of the year registered in his head. “...I'm also, not stupid...you were his gun. Blameless. He was the one with the finger on the trigger. I don't blame you...”
She looked down while wiping the knife on the lapel of the jacket almost...was that embarrassment in her posture Charon saw?
“You're forgiven if that's what you're waiting to hear...but...I'm making you clean him up, and you'll sleep here tonight. It's nothing against you...well maybe it is, but I don't wan-” her blank front almost deteriorated when a short sob threatened to silence her, “I don't want anyone around right now.”
Charon watched with attentive eyes as she rested the knife on the table, suddenly showing just how exhausted she was. He could still see her stained inner thighs when he closed his eyes; could still see her fear-sweat glistening orange and the way her body would shake visibly every time Ahzrukhal spoke.
“I'll come for you when I wake up...alright...”
But she didn't make it to the door, and Charon, like when he'd strangled her earlier in the night, caught her before she banged her head on the floor. She was lucid when he gathered her up in his arms, struggled weakly but muttered a 'fuck' and a 'thanks' while he curled her up tight and took her back to the room he'd taken her from. She may have despised his touch, but unless she ordered otherwise, he was to take care of her.
Her eyes remained half open, looking up at him all the while as he took the stairs, glancing down every other moment to see her just...staring. She smelt like the iron in the blood and a mixture of the scent from Ahzrukhal's jacket and that odd female smell that clung to her even now.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered when he pushed her door open with his shoulder, dropping her on a chair against the wall. His mind warred with whether to take the bloody jacket off her or not. Surely she wouldn't enjoy waking up in it...
“It's okay.” Whether that gave him permission to disrobe her or if she was accepting his apology, he pushed the garment over her shoulders slowly. When she shrugged back he took it off and threw it to the floor, noting the rash of blood on her skin and the bruises he'd left.
“Put me to bed okay...you can watch the door.” Her voice shook softly, as if once he laid her down in bed she'd curl up and cry herself to sleep...and she did. The sobs she did hold in, causing a leak in her throat, tore at whatever heart Charon had left, leaving him beside her door with her blanket covered back to him; shaking with each strangled sound.
He'd never wanted to comfort anyone before now, and the true pain was that if he touched her...she may do something worse than cry.
Charon closed his eyes against the sobs, trying to forget the lack of tension in his limbs on account of the forced orgasm he had. A shower stall lay in the corner of the room. Why she didn't want to scrub herself raw he didn't know. Hell, he wanted to use it. Her blood and fluids were dried on him by now – that knowing soured his stomach again, making his feet shift on the floor.
He had to say something...had to do something, even if she ordered him out.
Charon/F!LW "To Do As You're Told" 11/?
“...thanks...” she muttered, folding up the stained contract into a small square and stuffing it in the inside pocket of the jacket....where it'd been for so long now...only the one inside the suit was different now...
Charon watched her, anxiety rising the longer she acted as though he'd done nothing wrong. Waiting for her to dish out justice could have been part of his punishment, for the passing minutes ached with growing degree. He wasn't sure, but when she turned around with the bloodied knife in her hand; fresh from Ahzrukhal's neck, Charon watched her and waited. But he didn't expect her to say anything...
“I am angry.” she noted, and Charon almost snorted in laughter as the largest understatement of the year registered in his head. “...I'm also, not stupid...you were his gun. Blameless. He was the one with the finger on the trigger. I don't blame you...”
She looked down while wiping the knife on the lapel of the jacket almost...was that embarrassment in her posture Charon saw?
“You're forgiven if that's what you're waiting to hear...but...I'm making you clean him up, and you'll sleep here tonight. It's nothing against you...well maybe it is, but I don't wan-” her blank front almost deteriorated when a short sob threatened to silence her, “I don't want anyone around right now.”
Charon watched with attentive eyes as she rested the knife on the table, suddenly showing just how exhausted she was. He could still see her stained inner thighs when he closed his eyes; could still see her fear-sweat glistening orange and the way her body would shake visibly every time Ahzrukhal spoke.
“I'll come for you when I wake up...alright...”
But she didn't make it to the door, and Charon, like when he'd strangled her earlier in the night, caught her before she banged her head on the floor. She was lucid when he gathered her up in his arms, struggled weakly but muttered a 'fuck' and a 'thanks' while he curled her up tight and took her back to the room he'd taken her from. She may have despised his touch, but unless she ordered otherwise, he was to take care of her.
Her eyes remained half open, looking up at him all the while as he took the stairs, glancing down every other moment to see her just...staring. She smelt like the iron in the blood and a mixture of the scent from Ahzrukhal's jacket and that odd female smell that clung to her even now.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered when he pushed her door open with his shoulder, dropping her on a chair against the wall. His mind warred with whether to take the bloody jacket off her or not. Surely she wouldn't enjoy waking up in it...
“It's okay.” Whether that gave him permission to disrobe her or if she was accepting his apology, he pushed the garment over her shoulders slowly. When she shrugged back he took it off and threw it to the floor, noting the rash of blood on her skin and the bruises he'd left.
“Put me to bed okay...you can watch the door.” Her voice shook softly, as if once he laid her down in bed she'd curl up and cry herself to sleep...and she did. The sobs she did hold in, causing a leak in her throat, tore at whatever heart Charon had left, leaving him beside her door with her blanket covered back to him; shaking with each strangled sound.
He'd never wanted to comfort anyone before now, and the true pain was that if he touched her...she may do something worse than cry.
Charon closed his eyes against the sobs, trying to forget the lack of tension in his limbs on account of the forced orgasm he had. A shower stall lay in the corner of the room. Why she didn't want to scrub herself raw he didn't know. Hell, he wanted to use it. Her blood and fluids were dried on him by now – that knowing soured his stomach again, making his feet shift on the floor.
He had to say something...had to do something, even if she ordered him out.