Notes: I'm having a bit of trouble being creative on my own. Feel like giving me some prompts? What do you want to see? Which parts of life do you want me to explore?
It was awkward and strange. Sweaty, messy. Shilo hadn't known where to put her hands, or how to react when he touched her. She felt like just a bundle of limbs connected in the centre, a puppet with its strings cut, she danced under his fingers involuntarily. He touched her face, her stomach, her breasts, smudges of grit left in their wake. He hadn't even washed his hands...
Only afterwards, lying under the rumpled covers of her bed, face pressed against his shoulder, did she start to like it. The Graverobber lay beside her, his breathing indicating that he was at least close to being asleep, one arm still vaguely flung about her, his naked body sprawled across her now-dirty sheets. Shilo was curled up against his side, the blanket pulled up over her chest and clutched tight to hide her bare breasts.
She felt sticky with sweat, the mess between her thighs a strange discomfort that she was too self-conscious to wipe away with the sheet. She had felt detached during, secretly wondering where the fireworks were and why her body hadn't been singing as loudly as the romance novels had described. Nonplussed, it had taken her a few minutes to appreciate the feelings and only in retrospect did she begin to feel that maybe she had liked it.
Shilo woke up almost expecting an empty bed, so she was shocked to see the Graverobber watching her from just a pillow's length away. Shilo sat up slowly, still clutching the blanket. She squeaked when he ripped it away, covering her breasts with her hands with the sound of his laughter echoing in the room. He was just as naked as she was, hair more tangled than usual, eyeliner smudged, so comfortable with himself that she felt even more self conscious.
He followed her into the bathroom that morning, slipping into the bathtub behind her and chasing a wash-cloth with inappropriate touches, whispering lewd jokes into her ear. Shilo eventually gave up being embarrassed. She sighed and leaned back against his chest, letting his hands cover her chest and keep her from the cool morning air.
"I didn't think it would be so..." Shilo began, trailing off when she realised it might hurt his feelings.
"Disappointing," he guessed, amusement rumbling close to her ear. "The little girl expected angels and Chopin. Have you been reading romance novels, Shilo? You expected blood and pain that was chased away by pleasure that makes you want to scream. You were misled."
"I was going to say 'messy'," Shilo retorted, glad that he couldn't see her blushing.
Graverobber chuckled. "You didn't think it would be messy," he repeated.
"I thought there would be blood," Shilo admitted.
"Not every girl bleeds," he replied calmly.
"And maybe..." Shilo hesitated, wondering if she should tell him that she'd enjoyed sleeping next to his warm, living body more than what had happened before that. "Maybe I thought it would be... better."
"Don't expect fireworks, kid," Graverobber advised her, a hand moving from her breast and under the water. His fingers pressed between her thighs. "Bodies don't ignite without gasoline and matches to help them along."
"You're so romantic," Shilo rolled her eyes.
"You're completely hairless," Graverobber drawled wickedly in reply.