16 | Afterglow

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"I'll warm the water in a bit, the cold will help with any swelling,"

Damien explained as he stuck his hand under the running faucet. Slowly lowering myself into the bathtub, I hissed at the initial contact against my torn skin but soon let out a sigh of relief as my body adjusted to the cold temperatures.

As he left the room, I looked around at the rather large space, everything clad with wood detailing. There was a divider between the tub I was in and the glass-encased shower that took up the majority of the back wall. Lining the adjacent walls was a double-sink vanity; the other lined with a short table that had two large drawers. The sliding doors that made up the entire front wall were Japanese shoji screens made out of natural bamboo wood.

The room had been thoughtfully planned out, paying special attention to where things were placed—a mix of plants, paintings, and carefully folded towels made up the minor details that tied the room together.

Everything embodied a much lighter feel, opposing Damien's dark demeanor.

Walking through the doors, he came back in a pair of sweatpants as well as holding a small stack of clothes. Setting it down, he made his way back to the tub and sat on the edge.

As he turned the faucet to a warmer degree, causing the cold water to heat up, I silently roamed over all of the ink that dressed his body. Although I had many questions about what his markings met, I bit back the urge to open my mouth and continued to let him work in silence.

Pouring a few drops of what smelled like a mix of coconut and vanilla into the bath, Damien cupped a handful of water and brought it over my body—humming to myself as the water level grew higher.

"What's that for?" I asked as he set the small bottle to the side.

"To help with the pain. You've been through quite a bit tonight," I let out a laugh as I reminisced at the past couple of hours that he and I had just spent together.

As he continued to cover me with water, fully wetting my hair as well, I thought to myself about how natural and intimate his acts of care were.

In all of the vanilla years I've experienced, the majority of the people I had spent the night with never bothered indulging in aftercare. I often longed for the affection that came after sex, even if it was just a night full of missionary with no whips and chains.

Watching the silent man in front of me, put all of his attention and effort into making sure I was okay and cared for, only stirred feelings in me that I had been trying to suppress for a while. Sighing, I grabbed the sides of the tub and pushed myself up.

"Are you okay?" He asked, shifting himself to the back of the tub where he began massaging my shoulders.

"Yes," I answered, closing my eyes as he kneaded away any tenderness on my back. "Are you?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just want to make sure you're comfortable," He let out, honestly.

Pulling away from his touch, I shifted to the middle of the bathtub. Looking around once more, I then brought my gaze to Damien.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, standing up.

"How big your bathroom is," I answered, letting out a short laugh. "It's much different than the rest of your house,"

"That's entirely the point," He began to explain, taking out a variety of soaps from a drawer. "Every bathroom should have a certain kanso to it, the equivalent to Chinese feng shui, as I believe it's the most intimate space in a home—one of the many lessons I've learned from an old friend who taught me much about Japanese culture,"

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