bakerstreet | intimate bathing

intimate bathing

the intimate bathing meme;

Grooming is an important part of many species' rituals. It keeps them clean, healthy, and content. And a good bath? It can change the whole tone of a day from terrible to relaxed and blissful.

But nudity is sometimes viewed as a weakness - and it is almost always sexualized - so bathing is often kept a private matter. If you do share these moments with someone, they're almost always a significant other or a sexual partner.

Like you're doing now.

Whether it be after a battle or after sex (or before sex, even), the two of you are going to get clean. Be sure to help each other out with that, won't you? After all, there are places on the back that just can't be reached...

HOW TO PLAY:

Comment with your character, your prefs, etc.
If there are other grooming-related practices or kinks you'd like to include, like shaving, hair washing, mention them!
Reply to others!

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[This meme is made for her, she loves a good bubble bath.]

((Want to take a chance on this guy? He's a crazy ass mix of comics, animated, fandom, and whatever else my brain flows with.))

[Sure! Shall we go with the classic after a battle kind of set up since they're both vigilantes?]

((Sounds good. Let me know if you'd like anything adjusted.))

He thought his days of working with a team were over but similar goals have a way of bringing people ~~back~~ together. Whether he likes it or not. He resists anything the exerts its own pull, but fighting gravity gets old and irritating. It was good to have someone at this back tonight. Someone who could hold their own. Someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn't lecture him about the gray areas he frequents.

Dragging his ass back to the safehouse is like walking through molasses. He knows rather than sees that she's still with him. Maybe she's worries he won't make it. Fuck that. The thought puts determination in his step despite the way his body rebels.

He unlocks the bolt and slips in, leaving the door open behind him. It's invitation enough without putting words to it. Then he drops his helmet on the floor, strips off his jacket, and reaches for his holsters. The pinkie and ring fingers on his right are swollen beyond usability. He grimaces upon inspection but then ignores them. It's a problem for later. Right now, he just wants to sink into something warm and wash the blood away.

[This works for me :)]

It's hard to lecture anyone these days, especially since leaving the Titans and Hank and going solo has caused some of her own morals to slide into a similar grey area. In all honesty she had been surprised and a little annoyed at first to have him show up at the same drug ring she was there to bust but once the fighting had started she was glad. And maybe even a little impressed.

She's also grateful that he allows her to follow him back to the safehouse as she's tired and wants to make sure the injuries she sustained aren't too bad. She closes and locks the door behind them and unhooks her wings, dropping them to the ground with a soft thud. They're great for protection but they add a bit of weight that her back doesn't want right now.

"Need a hand with that?" She asks softly when she notices him pause at removing his holsters.

He balks at the question, drawing back. The softness of her tone instinctively puts him on edge. It's the same softness Dick uses when talking to victims or scared animals ready to run. A quick, acerbic response forms on his tongue but he bites down on it. Hard. She isn't Dick, ready to peel his layers away. Always wanting to find a way in. Expecting him to be more than he actually is. She doesn't have an ulterior motive. At least none that he's aware of. Yet.

Accepting help has never been his strong suit and he's immediately suspicious of anyone who offers. Slum kids know most people have an angle. He glances up and looks her in the eye, wondering when hers will make itself known. What he sees is someone who's just as tired and hurt as he is. She doesn't need him to be an asshole.

"Take the right. I'll work the left." The rig has never failed him but right now that doesn't matter to him. There are too... many... damn... straps.

When he balks and looks at her suspiciously she doesn't react, instead she just looks at him steadily, her dark eyes unflinching but warm. There's no ulterior motive here, how could there be when he was the last person she had expected to run into tonight.

"Sure." She says and takes the right side, her hands moving swiftly and gracefully to unbuckle and free him of the holster.

There are only a few people in his life that look upon him with any kind of warmth in their eyes. He can count them on one hand with his currently unbroken fingers. He does a decent job of pushing them as far away as possible. As for running into each other unexpectedly, he's learned to question coincidence. From his perspective, she showed up afterwards. His instincts tell him regardless that she's on the up an' up.

He lags behind her swift unbuckling. It isn't too long after she's done that he is as well, the holsters and guns joining his helmet and her wings on the floor. Leaving their gear lying around doesn't seem like an issue at the moment. There are other weapons stashed around the apartment if he needs them. Never more than a short reach away.

For the first time this evening, he gives her a once over, trying to determine if any of the blood she's wearing is hers. It's hard to tell. They're both practically covered in it. "Gunna live?"

She looks down at herself when he gives her a once over, her normally white and blue outfit is streaked with dirt and blood and she can feel how grimy her hair is with it too.

"Yeah." She says and then pauses, bringing a hand up to touch at the back of her head. Her fingers come away sticky with blood. "Feels like I got scraped up back here, can I bother you to check it?"

He circles around behind her to get a closer look. Her hair is matted more heavily in a specific spot, half-dried blood tangling thick stands. He fingers the mass aside. The patch of skin beneath is cut up. Bit of debris pepper her scalp. With as far as she rolled on the asphalt, it's a wonder it isn't worse.

"Bleeding's already slowing down. Doesn't look like it needs any stitches." It goes without saying that it'll need to be cleaned. Just like everything else. He checks the rest of her head while he's at it. Surprises suck. "I bet you have one hell of a headache."

She hisses softly when he probes the spot on her head and then nods when he says she doesn't need stitches.

"Yeah but everything is sore so it's all just kind of blurring together." She says and then frowns at her sticky fingers.

"Ick. What I wouldn't give for a hot bath right about now..."

He hears her there. Now's the easy part. When it all blurs together it's a manageable slog. When the aches and pains start to separate and become their own identifiable points... That's another story. He's not sure his fingers are the worst he'll have to address but at least for now he's moving. Albeit slowly.

"Mi casa, su casa." He gestures lazily towards a closed door. Beyond is the bathroom and a clawfoot bathtub. The tile is broken up in places but the plumbing still works just fine. He drops his ass onto the threadbare sofa and reaches for his boot laces.

One of her eyebrows goes up at the easy way he opens his home to her and she gives him a little nod of thanks before going into the bathroom, the clawfoot tub makes her smile and feel somewhat more normal because it's similar to what she has at home and she loves the old style. It's big and roomy and always feel luxurious.

She closes the door and begins to run herself a hot bath, digging around a little to find something she can use as bubble bath and even though he doesn't have a lot she manages pretty good. She then strips out of her Dove costume, leaving it piled in the corner of the bathroom and just as she's about to put her toe into the hot water she makes a snap decision. Grabbing a towel, she wraps herself up and opens the door and heads back out into the living room where he is.

"Hey." She says and when he looks up she gently takes his uninjured hand in hers and gives it a small tug. "Bath's ready. Come on."

If she wasn't welcome, he wouldn't have left the door open behind himself on the way in. He wouldn't think twice about shoving it closed in somebody's face and has done so more than a few times. Solitude is best and he protects the places he calls his. But the truth is, she probably saved his ass tonight. Not the other way around. He won't begrudge her the use of the facilities and a spot to crash.

He'd gotten both boots off and his belt, but the suit seemed like too much work. He opens his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, when she calls to him. The tug of his hand doesn't result in any movement. "I'll use it when you're done."

"You might be dead asleep by then." She quips at him, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile.

"Come on." Her dark brown eyes meet his green ones and she tugs at his hand again. "I'll wash your back and you can wash mine."

Her last comment gets the same kind of reaction she gave him not more than ten minutes ago, a raised eyebrow. But she's not wrong the first time around. He's wiped and ready to sleep for a few hours. Or days.

He thinks absently looking up into her face that she has a nice smile and pretty eyes. She'd probably be drop dead gorgeous if she wasn't covered in blood. This time he lets her drag him to his feet when she tugs a second time. "The tub isn't big enough for two," he states, pretty sure of this fact without ever having an occasion to check. "But I'll help you get the grit out of your scalp."

She won't be able to do it herself.

"We will make it work." Is her only reply as she pulls him up off the couch and leads him into the bathroom where the bath is waiting for them, the water is steaming hot and full of bubbles because when Dawn does baths she goes all in with it.

"Do you need a hand with your suit?" She asks, suddenly very aware of how close they are standing in the bathroom and that she is still holding his hand in hers.

It has the potential to be an awkward moment, but it isn't. Instead he's struck by a feeling of familiarity he can't explain. He should know her better but the details are missing, lost in memories he knows are his but can't reach. The pit took a lot away from him. He lets his hand fall out of hers. "Nah, I got it. Go ahead and climb in."

He turns away from her, not to intentionally avert his eyes, but to gather up another towel for himself, another for her. Then he digs under the sink for his stash of medical supplies, tweezers to pick grit out of the cuts on her head and a temporary splint for his throbbing fingers. With a bare foot, he pushes her bloody uniform father into a corner.

It's comforting that he doesn't turn away from her out of embarrassment or some kind of weird chaste moment as that would maybe make her start to feel awkward about her decision to invite him to bathe with her. She's never been ashamed of her body but it isn't usual for her to bathe with men she isn't dating but his casual nature puts her at ease and she drops the towel, her naked body on full display and steps lightly into the hot water.

"Ah." She hisses as the water touches some of the cuts and scrapes on her legs but as she sits down in the tub that noise turns into a long sigh, it stings a little but already the warmth is soothing her aching muscles.

He glances over his shoulder at the hiss, catching a glimpse of her naked as she sinks into the water. His eyes don't linger. A full image of her and the entirety of the room is present in the mirror before him. He doesn't purposefully watch, nor does he not watch. She's present and part of his landscape for now. Tomorrow she'll move on. Better not to become attached.

He splints his fingers first. The throbbing only intensifies. Then he circles around to the back of her head again, the majority of her body hidden beneath the bubbles. Picking out individually imbedded pebbles, some slick some sticky, is a laborious and lengthy process. He expects more hissing as he digs in. "This is gunna hurt," he mutters, as close to apologizing as he'll ever get without do so.

Dawn glances up in time to see Jason moving behind her to help with her head wound, she sits up a little more to help him out but doesn't make any noises of complaint as he picks out the pebbles. She has a fairly high tolerance for pain and she stays still until he tells her that he's done.

"Thank you." She says and looks over her shoulder at him, giving him a soft smile.

It takes him less time than he expects. The water is still warm by the time he's sure he's got it all out. There's still some in her hair, matted in, but it'll come out on its own when she washes. He doesn't offer to help with that. Some memories he can still recall with perfect clarity. Helping his mother wash her hair while she was stoned out of her mind had been a regular thing for him as a kid. He dumps the blood soaked bits of road in the trash and ditches the tweezers in the sink.

He strips off his suit and then his briefs, adding them to the pile of clothes worth burning. Fresh bruises bloom around his ribs and stomach, scarred muscle the canvas for deepening blacks and blues. Any body fat he had as Robin is long gone. Every day, he looks more and more like the father he refuses to forgive.

She makes no attempt to look away as he strips down, her eyes sliding over his body, his bruises and his scars but finally back up to his eyes. She moves to one side of the tub and motions for him to climb in, she's a petite woman so they won't have trouble both fitting and as he gets himself comfortable she grabs the nearby bar of soap.

"You got bigger." It just slips out and for a second it sounds like she's talking about something else, a certain part of his anatomy and she blushes prettily.

"More muscular, I mean."

Even though she's moved to the side to make room for him, he's still dubious there will be enough room. The thick layer of bubbles makes seeing below the surface impossible and the last thing he wants to do is accidently step on her. So he finds the bottom first before placing his weight and sinking down. He shifts, pulling up his legs as best he can, and settles back against the porcelain. A sharp, shooting pain races up from his right side and he jerks forward. Right at the same time he registers her first comment. He freezes, meeting her gaze, taking in the blush. Maybe he's misreading the statement. The heat of the water might be to blame.

He relaxes with the clarification, turning enough to rest only the left side of his back for support. "Yeah, well. I'm not a kid anymore."

Her eyes widen in concern when he suddenly jerks forward and she places a hand on his chest for a moment, instinctively wanting to help if he's in pain but he soon relaxes and she looks at him for a moment to make sure he's okay.

"No, you're not." She agrees and her cheeks darken a bit more, because he's right. He's not a kid anymore, he's a grown man and for some reason that thought brings about a whole flurry of confusing emotions, one of them definitely attraction and she makes another snap decision and slides her way between his legs. The hand holding the soap joining the one on his chest and gently she begins to lather his chest.

Dawn Granger | Titans | OTA

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