Duskfire Glacier free folk

he did not speak at first.
the steam curled around his frame as he stepped into the water, unbothered by the heat nor the woman who lounged in it like a cat content with its kill. blood still clung to his fur in places—hers and his. the faint sting of reopened wounds met the heat, but he bore it with silence, slipping lower until the water crested his shoulders.
her voice, laced with the same fire that once drew his blood, made his ear flick. he did not smirk, though the corner of his mouth twitched—barely. she knew why he came. he would not waste breath pretending otherwise.
you always are. and yet—he did not meet her with teeth. not tonight. he had seen the twitch in her muscles, the way they unraveled into the warmth like old scars finally softened. she would not admit it, but she needed rest.
his gaze slid over to her now, unreadable in its depth. then, with a slow inhale, he shifted closer, settling beside her until their shoulders brushed, his frame anchoring beside hers.
i came to wash the blood off.
and to see if you still bite without your teeth bared.
quiet, almost teasing, but no venom. faust rarely indulged in peace. but with her, for this moment, he would.