One Word Prompt Obidei: Hair

Your fingers drifted through my hair like foam on the sea, your hands gentle against my scalp. You had asked if you could wash my hair, and you sat beside the tub, looking strange covered from head to toe in the black garb you always wore, while I was stark naked, my hair completely let down. Your fingernails dragged pleasurably over my scalp, and I laid my head back closing my eyes as you worked the shampoo through the dirty mess that was my hair. Occasionally, you'd pull out debris, the water as you rinsed my scalp going a muddy color. It was always like this after missions. I never liked washing my hair after missions because of the thick grime that would coat it just like the way skin coated muscle. It was nearly impossible to rid myself of and it was annoying.

You were silent as I shifted in the tub to sit up, wincing lightly at the scattered watercolor purples, blues, and yellows on my aching body. My shoulder was cut, the crusted blood staining my skin down to my navel, having dripped as I'd not noticed it until I'd stripped down to bathe. It wasn't terribly bad, and didn't appear to need stitches. However, I could feel your gaze on me and knew you were worrying. You did that a lot.

You gently worked some conditioner into my hair, massaging my scalp softly. I let out a soft sigh, looking to you as I leaned against the edge of the tub, watching you lazily. After you'd worked it in, you gently laid my hair down on my uninjured shoulder and took a washcloth, lightly running water over it as you cleaned the blood. I let out a soft hiss as you ran over the widest part of the wound and you gently touched my arm, and I nodded, knowing you were trying to be gentle.

Blood and dirt had settled into the wound, and while it wasn't deep enough to need stitches, it was reddened and a bit warm to the touch. After you cleaned it, you gently began rinsing my hair free of the conditioner, and I watched the oil congregate on the surface of the warm water. I let out a gentle sigh, and felt your fingers stroke my spine and I relaxed. I loved my back touched by you.

You sat back and I laughed, "What. You don't believe in bathing yourself?"

You shrugged, silent for a moment, and I looked at you confused, "Ass. You've seen me naked a million times and I haven't seen more than your fingertips. How bad could you honestly be?"

The way you turned, I knew that was the wrong thing to say. "I'm going to get ready for bed." You said barely above a whisper. I gripped the edge of the tub, sighing, watching you leave to go to the bedroom.

I stood on shaking legs, the dizzying warmth of the tub and the length of our mission making me exhausted. I ambled out of the bath, wrapping a towel around me and came into the bedroom to see you laying in bed already. I sighed, slipping on a pair of underwear and a (stolen from you) tshirt.

I climbed in bed next to you, and gently wrapped my arms around you, "Will you kiss me?" I breathed.

I felt the cool press of the cloth against my eye lashes, and your lips pressed to mine. I wrapped my arms securely around you, running my fingers through your hair, pulling away after a moment and whispered, "you feel beautiful, and if you look like anything you feel like, you must be gorgeous." I felt your chest shake with what I wasn't sure whether was a sob or a laugh. Maybe both.

I felt it in my bones as you spoke, "You couldn't be more wrong." I gripped your arms and kissed you again, unsure how to comfort you.

"You'd be surprised. Whatever you look like, I know you'll always be the most beautiful man to me." I said.

This time, I knew it was a sob as you kissed my lips with tender need.