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“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, more to myself.
“It’s just trees,” King's deep voice replies, right behind me. I jump a little at the proximity and turn my head over my shoulder to peek at him, my hands never leaving the glass.
“Just treesis a damn right better sight than those four walls I have to look at every day.” I turn my head back to the window. “You wouldn’t understand.”
My breath fogs up the window in front of me.
King leans into me and his hand reaches from under my arm, one ringed finger writingI doin the fog on the window before it disappears forever. We stand there for a beat, bodies pressed against each other, the rise and fall of my chest growing rapidly the longer we’re stuck here.
“You’ve been in here before.” I break the silence, a statement more than a question. King reacts instantly, stiffening, and steps away from me, the moment gone.
“You need to shower,” he says and walks off to the left, disappearing through a doorway. I look down at myself, at the red splattering of blood covering the grey jumpsuit, and my mind flickers back again to the scene we just left. A dead man who had just assaulted me, on the floor of my cell, by the hand of King Rhivers. No remorse, no hesitation.
All to protect me.
I hear a door slam and I’m jerked out of my thoughts once more. I assume I’m supposed to follow, so I drag myself away from the window and head through the same door King disappeared through.
I find myself in a bathroom bigger than my cell, his and hers sinks that are completely empty of possessions, not even a toothbrush in sight.
King stands next to a large walk-in shower, the water already running, steam rising into the air vents above. The water looks heavenly and I shuffle on my feet, itching to get under it.
King uncrosses his arms and gestures towards the shower with his right hand, giving me permission to go ahead. I walk straight under the water, not even bothering to remove my jumpsuit, desperate to feel the water burn my skin, and I marvel at the feeling, relaxing into the sensation.
I fumble for the zipper on my jumpsuit and pull it down, quickly stepping out of it to feel the full force of the water on my body. The spray is powerful, beating down on my flesh, cleansing me.
Minutes must pass before I remember where I am?and that I’m not alone. I turn my head from the shower, water droplets dripping from my eyelashes, my vision still slightly blurred, and King is watching me, leaning against the glass, looking right into my eyes, no sign of hesitation or surrender to take his gaze down my body. Not that he hasn’t had more than an eyeful before, but he’s respectful now.
“Wash him away, sweetheart,” he says, his deep, low voice awakening something inside me. I turn away from him to grab the soap from the shelf. Compared to the small, grimy bar of soap in the communal showers, this one is a bright white and smells heavenly.
Between my palms, I lather up as much soap as I can, then face King, rubbing my hands over my arms and shoulders, back and forth before lowering to my breasts. I knead them in slow circles, the bubbles from the soap sticking to my skin.
King’s eyes follow my hands everywhere they go. Up each arm, over the shoulder, then down to circle each breast, slowly. I pinch my nipple between my fingers, biting my lip to try and stifle any moans that want to escape. It’s not the feeling that’s overtaking me when I touch myself that makes me want to cry out but the way King’s ogling me.
I slowly pass my hands over my stomach, descending lower until I reach the heat between my legs. I slide one finger between my folds and feel the wetness that has gathered there, and not from the shower.
A moment of doubt creeps into my mind when I think about what happened to me only moments ago and how already I’m willing to touch myself, but then King’s words echo in my head
Wash him away, sweetheart.
King watches me hungrily as I play with myself but shows no sign of joining me and despite myself, I want him to.
I stop what I’m doing and slowly make my way over to King. He doesn’t take his gaze off me and it strikes me how intimidated he makes me feel and I wonder where this sudden burst of confidence has come from.
I reach out and take his hand in mine, turning it over and rubbing my thumb over the cracked bloody knuckles. He doesn’t wince or pull away, his eyes burning a hole right through me.
I pull him towards me as I make my way back into the shower. He doesn’t resist, which is the only reassurance I need.
I pull us both under the shower head, water pelting down on my naked skin and the layers of material through his suit. I rub his knuckles back and forth under the water until all the blood is gone, then bring his hand up to my lips and gently kiss them, softly lapping my tongue over the cracks. I pull my head up and look at him.
His shirt is soaked through, his blazer hanging heavily on his shoulders. King grabs my arms, pulling me closer. His calloused fingers rub up and down each arm, twirling around the scarring as he looks at them closely for the first time.
“What happened?” he asks softly.
He frowns at my scars, like he’s pained to see the history of what happened etched onto my skin. I clear my throat and look down at them myself.
“I found my mother in the bath when she, when she...” I clear my throat, trying to get the words out after having only relived this moment already with Puck recently. “Anyway, there was a candle on the sink and I knocked it off in my panic. It set fire to the drapes and I tried to pull them down to put it out. I was lucky, though.”
He looks up at me, but I still watch his fingers following the scars on my arms.
