I4.6

Chapter 40: Toothbrush

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike controversial things.

Author's Note: 40 whole chapters...I'm impressed with myself. Anyway, let's see what mischief this fool gets into today!

"I know you're awake."

Silence.

"I can see you peeking…"

Tired violet eyes fully open before drooping shut. A small sigh escapes from chapped lips as Rachel tries to make sense of her world. Richard watches as she wiggles a small hand out of the confines of her blanket. Slender digits stiffly flexing as though they haven't been used in years. There are no words shared between the two birds as the leader patiently waits for his subordinate to regain her bearings.

He continues to watch her as she attempts to pool power into the palm of her hand. Faint, transparent tendrils lace themselves around her fingers before settling within the center of her hand. Frowns grace the faces of the young woman and man as they contemplate the consequences of their earlier encounter with other worldly demons. Rachel had been in their possession for literal minutes before Richard was able to get to her and break the hold they had on her. If they could inflict this much damage in such a short time, then neither one of them wanted to think about what would have happened to her if they had kidnapped her. Luckily for Richard, those goons were too impatient and impulsive to take her somewhere more secluded to get the job done right. Or maybe they wanted an audience? Wanted the world to know who they are and what they can do? Then why did they retreat so quickly? There was something that was not all together right about the way they were "defeated." Almost like they weren't there to put up a real fight...but maybe to test the waters?

Richard's chaotic thoughts are cut short when the sports drink begins rattling in his hand. He glances down to see the tendrils that Rachel conjured wrapping themselves around the bottle. He lets it go and watches as it levitates in the air for a few seconds before it begins floating towards the bedridden patient. Halfway through its journey, the bottle starts to droop closer to the floor and there is a groan of exasperation as Rachel finally lets the heavy container drop. Richard swoops down to catch it before it hits the floor and covers the short distance from the door to her bedside in long, confident strides that comes from years of practice...even when he's in doubt.

Rachel isn't looking at him as he holds out the drink for her to take. She's too busy staring at her hand as though she can make her powers work again just by shear will alone. When he shakes the bottle, she glances at it in annoyance before parting her dry lips and croaking "Water."

Richard shakes his head. "Drink this first. You need the electrolytes."

She frowns at his stern tone before pouting at being told no. A sick Rachel is a childish Rachel, but an injured Rachel becomes a baby. Under normal circumstances, he would have no problem giving in to her minor tantrums. If things were different, he would scoop her up and place her in his lap while spoon feeding her soup with sips of electrolytes. He would coo sweet words of comfort into the soft shell of her ear as he rubs the chill out of her stiff hands. But, things aren't different. Right now, Richard is too high strung to to be as effective a caretaker as he wants to be. There are too many troubling questions swirling around in his brain and even more horrifying answers that could wreck havoc on his carefully laid plans. He only had a small fraction of the puzzle and most of that he was only able to sniff out because of what little he knew of their alien language. Rachel knows more than she's letting on, but he's not confident that she would confide the absolute truth in him if he asked. There has been too many changes in the dynamic of their relationship for her to be comfortable with sharing information with him as a leader. Even if that means putting her safety in jeopardy.

A low groan hits Richard's ear as Rachel attempts to maneuver herself in a sitting position. He places both the sports drink and thermos full of warm soup on the nightstand by her hospital bed before picking up the remote for the motorized bed. "Hold still."

He pushes the button that moves the bed into an upright position. Rachel is glaring at him as he keeps his thumb on the button. He can tell that she is annoyed at needing to be helped this much, even though she secretly appreciates the attention. He slightly shakes his head as he says, "Now is not the time to be a strong independent woman. You're injured and your powers are compromised. We need to make sure there's not lasting damage and that you get your strength back as soon as possible."

"You think that I don't know that?" she croaks at him before attempting to clear her throat. Once the bed is in an upright position, Richard drops the remote and picks up the sports drink. With a firm twist of his wrist, the cap gives way and out pops a floating straw that he had placed there earlier. He wasn't sure what kind of physical state she would be in when she woke up, but he also didn't want to demean her with a sippy cup. A straw is a good compromise.

He holds the bottle in front of her face as she leans forward to latch her lips onto the straw. She takes a pull and grimaces as the taste of the liquid fills her dry mouth and flows down her parched throat. "Yuck...did it always taste this bad?"

Richard shrugs in response. "It shouldn't taste any different than usual. It's not expired or anything. Maybe your sense of taste is off because you've been asleep for so long."

She glances down at the red fluid swishing around in the clear bottle labeled "fruit punch," but doesn't respond to Richard's statement. Instead, she brings both of her shaky hands up to hold the bottle. He gingerly releases his hold on the item when he's sure that she can support the weight. Taking special care to brush his hand against the bottom sides of hers. He reluctantly steps back as she takes another sip of the questionably tasting beverage before turning his attention to the thermos he also brought with him. He had no idea when Rachel would wake up so he packed her soup in a thermos to keep warm. It is mostly broth since he wasn't sure if she could digest anything more than that.

Before pouring the soup into the thermos' lid that doubles as a bowl, he asks, "How's your stomach? Is there any cramping? Pain? Unsettling feeling?"

Rachel lowers the sport's drink to rest in her lap before shaking her head no. "My stomach feels more hungry than anything…"

As if on cue, there is a high pitched whine that emanates from his love's stomach in response to the smell of food. A pretty blush of embarrassment blooms across her pale cheeks as she sheepishly looks away. Richard's suppressed chuckle is accompanied by the sound of pouring broth. He picks up the spoon and begins to slowly stir the food to release some of the steam in an effort to cool it down. Rachel is looking at him funny as he makes himself comfortable at the edge of her hospital bed.

"What are you doing?" she croaks again before clearing her throat.

"What do you mean?" he innocently asks as he scoops up a spoon full of broth. Careful to wipe away any excess on the side of the makeshift bowl. Rachel's violet eyes hone in on the spoonful of soup making it's way to her lips with disdain.

"I don't need to be fed, Dick," she huffs before turning her head to the side. "I'm not a baby."

No, but you're my baby and I need to take care of what is mine.

"Never said you were," he softly replies, "but you are injured and weak right now. There's nothing wrong with accepting a little help from a teammate...and a friend...I hope."

"How hypocritical," she attempts to snap at him. There is no energy to add any sort of bite to her words. "You know you would hate it if someone tried to feed you while you're injured. Your pride…"

"...would have to be put to the side," he says while effectively cutting her off in as gentle a voice as he could muster. "I want to help you get better so that you can do these things for yourself again."

"I can do these things for myself right now," she scoffs. "Give it here."

Rachel stretches out her hand for the bowl and Richard obliges. He gently sets the small thermos lid in the palm of her outstretch hand. Watchful eyes taking in the way her grip attempts to tighten and her hand sinks closer to the bed before she could muster up the strength to pull the food filled bowl closer to herself.

"Use both hands," he gently chides her as he takes the sports drink from her other hand. She looks annoyed, but lets him take it from her all the same. Richard spreads out the napkin that he brought with him on Rachel's lap in case she spills anything.

There is a sigh that escapes the injured young woman as she carefully picks up a spoonful of broth and brings it to her mouth. She takes a moment to close her eyes and savor the taste. "This is much better than the sport's drink."

"Even so," Richard says as he holds up the bottle, "you have to drink it all. You had a fever that caused to you sweat quite a bit. You need to replenish yourself."

Rachel begrudgingly leans forward to take another sip from the straw. The two birds sit like this for a few minutes in silence. Both lost in their own thoughts as they mechanically fill Rachel's mouth with food and drink.

After a few bites, she says, "I have no stamina to do much of anything."

Richard nods in agreement, "That makes sense. Those demons did drain a lot of your demonic energy."

"Demons…," she mumbles to herself before clearly stating, "I'm not entirely sure if that's what they were."

"Tell me what happened, Rachel," Richard gently probes. He knows that he's walking a fine line here. Since there has been so many changes in the interpersonal relationship of the team, it is unclear to Richard if her trust in him is still as blinded as it once was. It would be difficult for her to completely disregard his feelings towards her now, especially since he has stated clearly that she is the one he wants. She is the one he is willing to lie, cheat and steal to have. It's not his proudest admission, but it is the honest truth. Beneath the title of hero, he is just a desperate man trying to find companionship in this miserable life.

"Where is Star and Cyborg?" she asks in an effort to completely change the topic. Richard frowns at her attempt but decides to follow her lead. He will get the truth out of her one way or another.

He holds the bottle up to her lips again in an invitation to drink. She scrunches her nose but does as he asks. His voice fills the space as she drinks. "Both of them are analyzing the crime scene before it becomes contaminated. There were many reporters and people around because of our event. You being struck out of the sky and the ensuing battle was witnessed by many and recorded from multiple angles."

Richard couldn't shake the thought of Bruce hunkering down in the Batcave analyzing and re-analyzing the clips where he was speaking to those demons. He is immensely grateful that the Caped Crusader doesn't speak the demonic language, but Richard is also well aware that that will only slow the master detective down for so long. With how tenacious Bruce tends to be, he wouldn't be surprised if the older man had a rudimentary understanding of what had been said by the end of the week.

"How humiliating," Rachel mumbles as she sits in her own head with her own thoughts.

"Humiliating?" Richard questions in surprise. "Being taken by surprise in an ambush isn't humiliating at all. They played dirty by striking you from below. I'm sure that they knew you could take them down in a fair fight."

"Doesn't change the fact that there is video of me falling out of the sky out there," she counters. Her violet eyes are storming and her hair is a mess but she doesn't have enough energy to carry over that rage into her voice.

"Take another bite," he gently commands as he thinks of what to say next. He can definitely empathize. Having one's moment of weakness captured on video that will live on for eternity would be enough to put him in a foul mood as well. However, that doesn't mean that he should outright lie to her either...especially since he wouldn't have much to gain from it.

"Hmmm...from the clips that people have posted online, it appears as though you lost consciousness the moment you hit the ground," he says. "It appears as though you landed on your back and when we got you back to the Tower, we noticed that you had severe bruising at the base of your skull. We were all extremely worried that your brain might have been swelling...but then we started to notice that you were slowly healing yourself."

"I see," Rachel says after slowly swallowing her food. "That explains why my back is so sore and stiff. It appears as though I had enough energy left to heal myself...tsk...at least they didn't suck me dry."

"They were about to," Richard says with some pride in his voice, "but I managed to get to you before they could get much further. I was able to break apart their ring before they could finish their incantations."

Rachel's violet hair gently swishes as she nods her head once in understanding. He can see her mind working to connect the dots in overtime and he's a bit peeved that she isn't including him in her thought process. This just confirms to him that she is much more guarded around him than she once was. He'll just have to start asking questions and hopes that she answers them honestly. "What do you remember Rachel?"

He watches as she spoons more soup into her pretty mouth in an effort to buy herself some time. She slowly savors the flavors, but the longer she waits the more impatient Richard becomes. Finally, she says, "It's just as you explained it...after our conversation...I flew away. I was headed back to the Tower because I wanted to get away from all those people and their raging emotions. I needed time and space to think. But as I was flying, I felt something hit me, but I wasn't sure what it was...and then came the feeling of falling...but I don't remember hitting the ground."

"That might be a blessing then," Richard states as his blue-gray eyes analyze her expressions. He knows that there is more to this than what she is letting on. "Hard impacts are never pleasant. I would know."

Throughout his life as a crime fighter, Richard has been thrown against a variety of hard surfaces including floors, cars, walls, and tables to name a few. Besides, the first step of getting someone to trust you is by agreeing with them. "The hardest part of being hit that hard is getting your breath back. It's really difficult not to panic when you can't get air into your lungs."

Rachel nods in agreement with what he's saying because she's also had similar experiences before saying, "That is true, but being knocked out also leaves you more vulnerable to the enemy so I'm not really sure that's a blessing."

"Well," Richard starts with a little smile on his lips because she has taken the bait, "it doesn't seem as though you were completely unconscious since you were able to notice some things about your assailants."

He watches as she stops stirring the remnants of her soup. Wary violet eyes are taking in the planes and angles of his face. Subconsciously wondering where the boyish baby fat of his cheeks went and whether his jawline had always been so sharp. Richard just smiles at her. Pleased that she's taking a good, long look at him. Noticing things that she hadn't before.

In a gentler tone, he probes, "You said earlier that you didn't think the ones who attacked you were demons. You couldn't have noticed that if you were unconscious before you hit the ground."

Richard watches as her lovely eyes narrow when Rachel realizes the slip of her tongue. Her mind trying to figure out what or how much to tell him. Eventually, she says, "They didn't feel like demons...or humans...or any other living thing that I've encountered. I'm not sure how to explain it. I think it's something that my subconscious picked up on before I passed out."

He just smiles at her again because he knows that she's lying and withholding important information from him. However, he's not too concerned yet. He'll learn the truth from her before the night is over.

"I'm glad that it sounds like you're getting your breath back," he says. "It seems as though you're getting stronger."

Rachel looks slightly taken aback by that statement. Normally, he would have been drilling her or any other member of the Titans, for information as soon as they woke up. Yet, here he was being gentle with her and not calling her out on the obvious holes in her explanation. She should be more concerned but she can't seem to find it in her. There were too many wayward thoughts wondering around in her head so her best course of action is to keep her mouth shut.

Whatever thoughts Rachel is having are cut short when Richard reaches for her bowl. His warm hand covers hers and he frowns. "I thought the soup would have warmed you up, but your hands are still chilly."

Rachel flexes her stiff fingers in response before mumbling with a sigh, "I still feel cold. What I wouldn't give for a warm bath…"

Richard nods in agreement at her words. "I know that feeling very well. Soaking in a warm bath after a rough day is like heaven. I think we can do that for a little bit. Just long enough to warm you up."

"What do you mean?" she warily asks.

"I mean," he answers as he pushes the remains of the sports drink into her hands, "finish that and I'll draw you a warm bath in my bathtub. It's made out of wood so it'll be more comfortable than your porcelain one. When you're done with your soak, you can decided whether you want to come back to the medic bay or, if you feel well enough, sleep in your bedroom."

"You think I'm well enough for that?" she skeptically inquires with a raised brow.

Richard smiles at her again before jumping off of the side of her bed. He walks over to the nightstand where the rest of the thermos is sitting and begins putting it back together while cleaning up any mess. "Well...I think that even though you're healing slowly, you're aware enough to say something if you don't feel well. Besides, I'll be sitting right outside the door. I think, more than anything, you need rest to regain your drained powers."

"I could just rest here," she counters.

He doesn't bother to look at her before waving his hand around the cold medic bay, "You and I both know this isn't the type of place where you can get proper rest. But, if you don't want the bath then speak up now. I'm going to take these things to the kitchen and prepare the water."

The temptation of easing her tired, battered body into warm, scented water was too much for his girl to pass up. Richard chuckles when a quiet "ok" hits his ears. He balances the empty bottle and thermos in one hand as he turns to the patient. "I'll be back in 5. Don't move a muscle until I get back."

She mumbles an annoyed "whatever" under her breath as he strides out the door towards the kitchen. He is relieved that there doesn't seem to be lasting damage to her body or her brain. However, Richard is peeved by how filtered she has become with him. He doesn't like how low he's going to have to stoop to get the critical information that he needs from her. This isn't some petty, he said – she said, drama between teammates. These are demonic creature from another dimension here to steal her life force in order to do god knows what. She claims that they're not demons, but that's what he's going to call them until she can give him a straight answer.

He shakes his head to himself at the predicament that they find themselves in as he throws the empty sports drink bottle into the recycle and places the dirty thermos in the dish washer. The cooking utensils that he used earlier are still in there so he turns on the machine. Either Star of Cy will pack away the cleaned dishes when they come back.

With his domestic responsibilities accounted for, Richard makes his way into his bedroom and straight to the bathroom. He gives his trusted wooden tub a quick rinse before filling it up with warm water. Careful to add just the right amount of bath salts and other sweet smelling things that are good for relieving muscle aches. Satisfied with his work, he leaves the water running so that the tub can fill while he goes to fetch Rachel from the medic bay.

He shouldn't feel as giddy as he does, but what were the odds that he'd have his love soaking in his bathtub...naked? When he woke up this morning the only thoughts running through his head were about the conference. Would the people accept him as Nightwing? Would Rachel? Could he pull off denying his feelings for her before the watchful public, while also dropping hints that they would become more than just teammates in the future? How was he going to maneuver Bruce into letting him stay the leader of the Titans? Ha! If he had known that that would be the least of his troubles today. The entrance of these new enemies make Richard nervous in a way that the other villains do not. That's probably because of all the unknown variables, but most likely because their primary target is Rachel. This isn't the first time that she's been singled out, but he wasn't as obsessed with her back then as he is now. His feelings ran deeper than how useful she can be to him. Deeper than just a friend helping a friend. So deep that he is almost afraid to look too closely at it or the desperation of it all will swallow him whole.

"You ready, Rachel?" he asks in an excited voice.

He watches as she lifts her head to look at him. Her expression somewhat dazed as she takes a couple of seconds to focus her eyes on him. When she realizes who he is, her lips slowly pull themselves into a smile. A slurred "yea" is his response. She looks adorable and so very trusting when she takes his hand. Richard helps her out of bed and onto shaky legs.

"Rachel," he coos as he gently brushes away a wayward lock of hair, "Do you want me to carry you?"

There is a slight shake of her head, "I can do it."

Richard nods as he takes her left hand into his left hand and wraps his right arm securely around her small waist. If she stumbles, he will catch her. Together, they slowly walk out of the medic bay and towards his bedroom. They make it to the halfway point which is at the entrance of their communal living area. With a heavy sigh, Rachel sinks against Richard. She is exhausted and out of breath from exerting herself. What little energy she has is working in overtime to restore as much of her demonic powers as possible.

Without asking, Richard just scoops her up in his arms. Mindful to keep the hem of her hospital gown from riding too far up and exposing her intimate areas. As much as he would like to linger in this position to fully enjoy the feel of her weight in his arms and the sensation of her body pressed against his, the water in his bathtub is still running. There is another sigh from his beloved as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and buries her face against his neck. With quick, sure footed strides, he makes his way to his bedroom.

"I can't feel you," she mumbles to no one in particular which causes Richard to pause.

"What do you mean?" he asks. "Are you numb?"

"No," she whispers. "I can't sense your feelings. It's like my empath powers are turned off."

Richard continues walking as he responds with, "I don't think that's too surprising. You're trying to regenerate the powers that you lost. I doubt your body is trying to expend more energy than is absolutely necessary."

He can feel her nod against his neck and a quiet "I hope so," reaches his ear. He enters his bathroom without hesitation and gently places Rachel on the closed toilet seat. She shivers at the lost of his body heat when he stands to his full height. As unwell as she is, Rachel still takes a moment to soak in her leader's beloved bathroom. She knew that everything in here is made out of wood except for the sink, but "why?"

"Hmm?" Richard hums as he turns off the water flowing into the tub before checking the temperature. They had made it back just in time for it to not overflow.

"Why all the wood?" she clarifies as she points to the ceiling, which also is wooden.

"Ah!" he says. "It's more of a comfort thing. I find bathrooms like these more inviting and intimate than the ones with harsh tiles. It's not as bright either."

"When did you discover this?" she inquires with a slight slur.

"When I took a trip to South Korea with Bruce and Alfred. I think it was during my first holiday from boarding school," he says as he wipes the bubbles off of his arms. It was also the first time that he realized crying in porcelain tubs was infinitely less comfortable than crying in wooden ones.

"I hate not being able to feel you," she says. He can tell that it's a challenge to get the words out. "I can tell there is more there."

"There is always more under the surface," he says. "You should know that better than anyone...But! It looks like I forgot to bring your clothes. Just wear some of mine until you get back to your room."

Without waiting for a response, Richard walks out of the bathroom and to the semi destroyed dresser. He finds a simple pair of unused boxers and a freshly laundered shirt. Forgetting Rachel's clothes was on accidental purpose. It had crossed his mind, but he really just wanted to see her wearing his things. Just the thought of it has his groin tightening and mouth watering in anticipation. He knows that he's laying a dangerous trap for himself, but he'd be damn if he passed up an opportunity like this.

With visions of a wet, naked Rachel dancing around both his heads, Richard makes his way back to the bathroom. He places the clean clothing on the sink's counter and turns his attention back to her in time to hear "Clean?"

He scoffs at the insinuation, "Of course. Do I look like the kinda guy who does the sniff test?"

There is a languidly wicked grin on her face as she retorts, "You're a too much of a prima donna."

Richard isn't deaf to the running jokes among the Titans about his meticulous ways. He is very particular when it comes to his suits, hair, self care. Some thought he was over the top, but what many didn't realized is that performing those acts of grooming help him stay sane. It creates a sense of control...especially when his world is spiraling out of orbit. Even if it is an illusion, it is a concrete action that he can complete. It was one of the coping strategies that he learned soon after his parents passed away.

"Well, thank your lucky stars that I pulled this out of the clean pile," he retorts with an eye roll. "Is there anything else that you think you'll need?"

He watches Rachel run her tongue over her teeth and grimace. "I wanna brush my teeth, but I don't think I can stand for that long or if my arms will work."

Rachel longingly runs her eyes across the counter top that houses the sink and Richard nods in understanding. "I told you to let me feed you."

She attempts to glare at him, but ends up looking more annoyed than anything. Richard isn't paying her much attention because he is reaching into the cabinet underneath the sink. He pulls out a spare toothbrush and breaks the seal on the packaging. Next, he pulls out a cup and places it on the counter before standing up.

"If your body is at it's limit then it's best to keep you seated on the toilet," he says. Careful to keep any enjoyment out of his voice even though he is thoroughly enjoying his role as caretaker. Having Rachel depend solely on him like this makes his pride swell in a way he hadn't even considered possible.

"I can take care of myself," she retorts before trying to stand. Her shaky legs clearly telling her no when they gave out on her and she falls back onto the seat. She just glares at him even more as though he was the one who knocked her down.

"Listen," he begins in a placating manner, "I know this is uncomfortable for you and I get it. No one likes to be taken care of like this, but you have to let me help you. Don't you want to get that nasty taste out of your mouth?"

She sharply turns her head away before saying, "Fine...but don't you DARE breath a word of this to anyone."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says with a gentle smile on his face. But I will fantasize about it.

She eyes him even more closely as he pulls a second cup off the shelf and fills that one with some water. Richard rinses the new toothbrush under the open water before putting some toothpaste on it. He comes to stand in front of Rachel with tools in hand and she's not sure how to feel about this.

He gives her a reassuring smile as he looks down at her. "I'll try to make this as quick as possible. We don't want the bath water to get cold."

Rachel nods at him with a look of determination that melts into surprise when Richard gently grasps her chin in his left hand. He firmly angles her head upward so that he can have better access to her mouth. Her violet hair is falling down her back and across her shoulders in an enticing way. The pad of his left thumb quickly swipes over her chapped lips before his husky voice hits her ears with one simple command.

"Open."

She is a bit too stunned to respond when that same thumb applies gentle pressure to her chin in order to coax her jaw to open. Richard unconsciously licks his own lips before he slips the tip of the toothbrush into her waiting mouth. A cyclone of naughty thoughts swirling around in his head and a desperate wish to replace this thing in his hand with something more filling. His dirty desires are egged on by the soft groans coming from the young woman sitting before him. The ache in his loins only intensify further as he watches her delicate brow furrow with each back and forth motion of the brush. She's not used to having someone do this for her so her initial instinct is to keep her mouth closed.

Richard gently pulls the brush from her mouth and holds the empty cup to her lips.

"Spit."

On command, Rachel's head leans forward and her hair falls into her face as she spits out the toothpaste in her mouth. Next, Richard picks up the cup filled with water and holds it up to his love's lips. She takes a sip and swishes it around her mouth before trying to spit it out.

"Wait," comes the simple command. She stops and looks up at him as she waits for directions. Her reluctant compliance only excites him more. She is surprised again when a large hand grabs as much of her hair as possible and gently pulls it away from her face. Richard is mindful not to tug too hard since she is still injured, but he can't help the few strains of silky hair that falls out of his grip. He brings the cup she just spat in to her lips expecting her to do it automatically, but is pleasantly surprised when she does nothing. A dangerous smirk pulls at his lips when he realizes what she's waiting for.

"Spit."

She releases what's in her mouth into the waiting cup. A sliver of saliva and water dribbling down her chin, but neither one of them move to wipe it away. Richard doesn't release her hair when he explains to her what to do next.

"Open your mouth wider, Rachel," he demands as he shifts his stance so that he can give his erection some room to grow. "I need to reach everything."

Rachel's unfocused pupils are dilated as she asks, "Are you enjoying this, Dick?"

"About as much as you are," he answers as he lightly taps the toothbrush against her lips.

"How would you know?" she snorts.

"Your nipples are hard," he responds. He was trying to be a gentleman and not "notice," but it is difficult to do considering how thin the hospital gown is.

"It's cold," she frowns as she moves her hands to cover her chest.

"Right," he chuckles, "Open."

Her eyes flutter close as she tilts her head back to give him better access. Richard keeps her hair fisted in his hand so that it doesn't get in his way. He gently places the toothbrush into her waiting mouth and attempts to clean all the places he missed. His eyes are trained on her face and soaking in all of her minuet reactions to what he is doing to her mouth. He never would have thought that this would be how he'd end the day.

He gently pulls the brush out of her mouth before holding up the spit cup. Rachel patiently waits for her instructions. They repeat the process.

"The tongue," he quietly says. She reopens her violet eyes to peer up at him. It crosses her mind to tell him not to bother because they both know she'll gag, but before she could put her thoughts to words Richard gives her head a little shake. "We've come this far. We should finish together."

Whether the double meaning behind those words were lost on her, he could not tell, but it appears as though she's in the mood to comply. The angle and position of her face makes him even more excited than he already is. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not replace this tiny brush with his cock. To fill this bathroom with the sound of her choking on his girth or to coat her lovely throat with his cum.

"Stick it out," he says in a low, barely controlled voice. Rachel's eyes are half closed as she complies and he begins rubbing the bristles of the brush against her tongue. He can feel her shoulders slightly convulse as she begins to gag the deeper into her mouth he goes. Richard smiles at the pretty picture she makes with her slippery wet chin and stray strains of hair sticking to random parts of her face. He can feel her small hands fisting the fabric of his sweatpants which are doing nothing to hide his erection.

In a rush of impulsiveness, Richard drops the toothbrush and replaces it with his curious fingers. He marvels at the feeling of her wet tongue rolling around his digits in her warm mouth. He presses his fingers firmly in place to keep it still and is rewarded with a whimper from the woman he is desperately trying not to fuck on his bathroom counter. He begins pumping his fingers into her mouth: once, twice and on the third thrust he finally pulls out. Terrified that he won't be able to keep himself in check if they didn't stop here. If he didn't stop here.

He releases Rachel's hair and it falls into her face again. She looks very dazed and confused with her half hooded eyes looking at him for guidance. He hands her a towel and can barely choke out "Change into this. Call me when you're done. I'll help you into the tub."

Without waiting to see if she understood what he said to her, Richard strides out the bathroom in an effort to regain control of himself so that he can get through phase two...and to allow the amobarbital, or "truth serum," to take full effect.

Look at Dick! Starting shit he can't handle. Well, I hope this slightly longer and spicier chapter makes up for my irregular updates. Till next time folks!