"Then you'll have to wait some time for that, won't you?" Not that it will matter for a while. If they can't change, then their clothes are in no danger. All things in time.
The vampire has other things top of mind just now. He watches them slip from the bed to gather up his clothing and finds his eyes naturally drawn to the outline of their form barely hidden beneath the robe. When he reaches to take the garments from their arm, his hand instead strokes up to their shoulder to caress the curve of their neck.
"Now, that I do believe," he purrs. "She is not as..." he pauses, like he's trying to find the right words, "concerned for the longevity of her Pets as I am. I do not intend to be cruel to you, Rowan. So long as you do not force me to be."
Just then, Max walks through the door wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. He freezes in the doorway when he catches sight of two standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh. Sorry. I... didn't bring any clothes with me to the bathroom. We good?"
Erik drops his hand to their arm and fetches up the rest of his clothing. "Of course. I'll leave you two to get started with your day. I have some business to handle myself. It won't take but a few hours."
Rowan was expecting his touch, so they don't flinch, even when it comes in a way they didn't expect. They can't keep their pulse from jumping and then racing, though, as they school themself not to push Erik away. Instead, after a moment, they tilt their head a little, welcoming him, if reluctantly.
They were about to respond when Max makes his reappearance. They glance over at him, taking him in, and then letting a smile cross their features. Seriously, they can't fault Erik for his taste, at least. But it only lasts a moment, before they turn their attention back to the vampire, keeping the smile in place. "Yes, master." They drop their head for a moment respectfully, and then pull away.
"While you're looking for clothes, reckon you can see if there's anything what won't fall off me?" Rowan asks Max then, taking a step towards him.
Erik saunters away, looking pleased with himself and also with the delightful way in which their pulse jumped beneath his touch. Was it fear or arousal? Perhaps a touch of both? One can hope. Either way, he is very much looking forward to breaking the skin and feeling it pulse over his tongue. Soon. He is patient, but only to a point. And he cannot deny the lust that consumed him the moment they tilted their head that way. If Max hadn't interrupted... but no matter. To work.
Max watches the exchange between the two with a drawn in, purposefully blank expression. He can read his Master well, and can see what thoughts are going through the vampire's mind as he strokes Rowan's slender neck. Max must admit, the sight of his Master lusting over another, having that other call him Master too, is... disquieting. Is he jealous? No. Surely not. But, he is concerned for Rowan. He's not sure he believes they are as willing as they are putting on. Max wasn't, not this soon. But it's possible that smile is real. It's possible...
"I'm sure there must be something," Max answers after only a moment's hesitation. "Might have to dress you in one of my shirts with a belt. That's a fashion statement."
He reaches for them, wanting to feel their hand in his again already. "You doing okay?"
When Max reaches out for them, Rowan responds quickly, placing their smaller hand in his and squeezing lightly. Thank goodness for the touch of warm, living flesh after so much of Erik's touch! They might be able to train themself not to shrink away from his hands, but who would choose the vampire over Max?
Not that Rowan has much of a choice either way.
"Normally I'd complain, but as long as we ain't having guests it ain't no worse than this." They chuckle, leaning into him with easy affection. With the vampire gone, and now finally something close to rested, they feel something close to their normal, friendly self. And there's nothing to lose by being friendly with Max.
Max welcomes their warm touches too. He loves Erik, in his own way, and he is more than used to the cold. But there is just something about a warm hand that Max can't let himself forget. Rowan reminds him how much he misses it.
"Shouldn't be any more guests for a while. Just the four of us in the house from now on." Yes. Four.
"Josiah put me through my paces today. Kicked my ass, as usual. If you find any bruises on the back of my calf you'll know why. He made me practice dodging over low kicks until my knees gave out." The head of security, and Max's martial art trainer, does not fuck around.
"Nah, I was waiting to have breakfast with you. I just downed a coffee and a protein bar before training." Which is the norm for him anyway. He doesn't like to eat too much before a heavy workout.
Well he can't say that and not expect Rowan to glance downwards. Especially since he's still only wearing a towel. Not that any brushes would have had a chance to show up yet, but still.
"God, I hope Erik doesn't expect me to do that." They laugh, before pulling Max over towards the wardrobe so they can start on getting dressed. Or Max can, at least, and once he's found some clothes that Rowan can wear, they'll take them over to the bathroom for a proper shower with hot water and no vampires scrubbing them down.
"I had a go at pole dancing once and that lasted for a hot five minutes 'cos I couldn't hold my own weight." It was a nice idea, but between their degree and doing werewolf things on the side they didn't have the time to build up their strength enough for it. "Most exercise I normally get is running for the tube or dancing in the club." Well, and certain bedroom activities.
Rowan can look as long as they like. Those calves are nice and muscular, and especially tight at the moment.
"I can't promise he won't. He's pretty strict with me about keeping my fitness regimen."
He laughs as he's pulled along, marveling at how his belly flutters with each new touch from them. It's just a friendly tug on his hand, he tells himself, what's there to get so excited about?
"Won't be any more club dancing for a while, unfortunately, but I like dancing." He shoots them a sly smile. All kinds of dancing, including dirty.
And then he'll do a nice sexy wiggle of his hips for them as he slips off the towel and starts dressing. Rowan can get a nice long look at the goods underneath until they disappear behind several layers of fabric.
"Yeah, well, I got told I ain't allowed to distract you too much, so if you want to dance with me, we got to get all our chores done first." Rowan smirks back, unabashed. What kind of dancing is there except for dirty?
That is a nice wiggle, but Rowan's trying not to stare too much, so they poke his side, then start looking through drawers to see if there's anything they'll be able to borrow. Basically any of Max's shirts will make a good minidress on them, it's just a shame they'll have to go without anything underneath. On the other hand, it's still more covered than they are now, even if they will be flashing the houses' other inhabitants anytime they have to bend over.
"Between the two of us, we should be able to get through things, though. You'll have to get me started, but it ain't like I don't know how to clean or whatever." They add, a little less flirtatiously. "Can I pinch any of these shirts for now?" Because if that's the case they'll take the longest one that has short sleeves.
"Funny... He didn't tell me that." Maybe because Erik thought it should go without saying. Joke's on him. He can't give Max a new companion (especially one as appealing as Rowan) and expect him to behave all the time.
Max actually finds it a nice relief how casual Rowan is about helping themselves to his wardrobe. As much as he enjoys hosting, he doesn't often do it quite like this.
"Sure, take any one you want. I can't say I have a personal attachment to any of this."
As for the chores. That is a point Erik told him to iron out today. "I have a schedule I follow," he tells them, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a low dresser set inside the closet that holds his folded clothes as well as his few pieces of nightwear. "It should be easy enough to follow.
"The main thing is that it's a lot of house to look after. So, I dust and vacuum one quadrant of it per week on a regular schedule. Same with the linens. I handle all of my own laundry, and, well, yours now too. Dishes get done as soon as I'm done using them. I cook all my own meals. General maintenance like mopping, cleaning, disinfecting gets split up by days of the week. We pay people to do the outdoor work, at least. So, we don't have to do outside windows. Just the inside.
"The weekends are a little different. I spend Saturday evenings with Erik. And then I'll usually sleep in pretty late on Sundays and not do much of anything for most of the day. Maybe some paperwork if I didn't get it all done on Friday. If I'm up to it." What he's not saying is that the reason he has to take it easy on Sunday is that Erik feeds from him the day before and it always leaves him terribly fatigued then next day.
Selecting two shirts, Rowan holds them against themself as they listen to the list of chores, measuring them to see which is the longest. After a moment, they hang the other one back up, and fold the one selected over their arm.
"Like what I said, I'll do the washing up if you cook. I ain't so good with ironing and shit either, but anything else I'm good to do, so if you got chores what ain't your favourite, now's the time to sponge them off on me."
Stepping closer to Max again, they smile up at him easily. "At least I can take some of this off your back. Share the load, right?" Some of Saturday as well, perhaps, for better or for worse. At least if what Brida said is true, Rowan's blood should sate the vampire quicker. Probably just as well, given how much smaller than Max they are.
"I cook while you do dishes already sounds like a luxury to me. I just hope you won't change your mind about that when you see how many dishes I can dirty in one day." He's fussy about the ironing anyway so he'd probably not have trusted them to it even if they did want.
When they step nearer he can feel his heartrate kick up a notch. Is it supposed to be like this? When was the last time he felt such instant attraction? Just having them look at him with that smile, that open affection, he already craves more of it. More time with them no matter what they end up doing.
"I..." his mouth feels dry and he licks his lips in a vain attempt to wet them. "I think we'll be able to share the load just fine. I don't mind if we make it up as we go." Is he even still talking about the chores? He's not sure anymore.
"Anyway," he shakes himself out of it. "Let's finish getting ready and we can talk it over more at breakfast. You must be starving by now."
Are they hungry? Rowan has to think for a moment on that one. They’re too good at ignoring hunger signals - between going hungry more often than their Mum would like as a child and getting distracted for days on end working, they really never had a chance to learn to listen to them at all. “Yeah, I guess I could eat.” They reply, smiling still.
“I’m going to shower first, though. Is there anything I shouldn’t use in the bathroom?” Because if not, they’ll just use whatever smells good. “Try not to make too much mess in the kitchen while I’m gone.”
"Okay, take your time. I'm going upstairs to cook, so you'll have to knock on the door for me to open it." He can cook in the small apartment kitchen, sure, but he much prefers the big one.
"As far as shower stuff? Use whatever you feel like for now. I'm sure Erik will eventually end up picking out scents for you that best compliment your natural smell but until then, he probably won't complain if you smell like me."
The vampire has a sensitive and picky nose and he has gone to great pains to make sure all of Max's voluminous skin and hair care products compliment his scent profile perfectly. Rowan will have quite a lot to pick from when they get in there between shampoos, conditioners, bath soaps, face creams, lotions, gels, body butters, aftershave, and more. All of it will have a common theme, spices. Apparently, Max's natural scent goes best with cinnamon, vanilla or clove. The man doesn't just make desserts, he smells like one.
He snorts a laugh as he turns to leave, "No promises about the mess. But, I can promise the results will be worth it. See you in a bit."
...Right, the door's locked. Rowan frowns for a moment, trying to recall the numbers that they saw Max input last night, and then realises that it's not too important. They don't want to give away that they saw half of them too early. "Okay, make sure you listen out for me then." They brush soft fingers over Max's arm before pulling back as well, separating out to the bathroom.
Like everything in this place, it's bigger and more luxurious than pretty much anything that Rowan's come in to contact with before. They have to take a moment to muddle through half the pots and lotions in there, trying to figure out what half of them are. They're still not sure they've got everything, but they manage to find a shower gel and shampoo at least, set the shower to hot, and once it's steamed up, slip out of the silk gown and step in.
Only then, finally confident that they're alone enough, and can't be seen through the steam do they allow themself a moment to break down, curling up in the bottom of the shower and scrabbling with desperate fingers at the collar around their neck. But it's hopeless; there's no noticeable seam on the beautifully and cleverly crafted thing - without the key, there's nothing they can do.
So instead, they stand up abruptly, swaying for a moment under the hot water as bile rises in their throat and lights burst behind their eyelids. They manage not to faint, and set about scrubbing themself almost raw, rinsing down the drain all the unwanted and unwelcome contact of the last few months. And then, finally, they wash themself off and clean their too long hair, and force their emotions back behind their mask, before stepping out of the shower and getting to work making themself presentable once more.
When they knock on the door, they're all light smiles and easy going again, bouncing on the balls of their feet impatiently. Their hair is mostly dry and combed back out of their face, Max's shirt worn like a mini dress, pulled in at the waist by a belt and a couple of careful tucks. They've also riffled through his things to find a pair of gym shorts that are tight enough to not fall down immediately, especially with the belt helping, and while they're not going to be winning any fashion shows any time soon, they're more covered than they've been in a long time, and it feels good. "Hey, Max, come let me out if you want company for breakfast!" They call, amusement and teasing in their voice.
They've been down there a while, Max notes with a nervous glance to the kitchen clock. He can take a guess as to why. The moment they said they wanted to take a shower first, the thought hit him. Through the hazy memories of that first dreadful night here in Erik's house, he can recall how, covered in blood and stinking of burned hair, he'd stepped into a scalding shower and cried himself sick. He stayed in there until all the hot water ran out and he was shivering so hard he thought he might vibrate through the tiles.
If that's what they need to do, then Max wants to let them have the privacy for it. As glad as he is to have a new companion, he remembers the anguish of being trapped. That's why he'd put up no fuss, and why he didn't offer to wait down there for them. It's only natural. It's why he'll do his best not to draw attention to it if he sees any puffy eyes or slightly too raw skin.
"Coming. I'm coming. You don't want me to burn the gravy, do you?" he teases back through the door.
There's the sound of numbers being punched in from the other side and then the door opens. He lets out a genuine laugh when he sees them standing there in that ensemble on the other side. "Here we have the latest in fall fashion. Ha. No, I'm just kidding. Come on out, I'll show you to the kitchen."
It isn't far. Just two rooms over. It's, predictably, huge. Everything is industrial-sized. The stove has eight burners under a giant hood and the refrigerator is a double-wide. All the countertops are polished grey marble, including a huge kitchen island. There are more cabinets than a kitchen could possibly need and they are all painted white and spotless.
"I'm making biscuits and gravy," says Max, "with bacon. I hope you're hungry."
“Oh, fuck off.” Rowan replies good-naturedly, reaching to elbow Max playfully. “Made do with what was a available, didn’t I? Unless you want me wandering around, fanny out all day.” Well, Maybe Max (or Erik for that matter) wouldn’t complain, but Rowan would rather not. Not now they have the choice to put some clothes on.
They follow Max to the kitchen, but pause in the doorway, taking it all in. It’s obscenely large. They've seen expensive flats these days, since the Sept is rich, but those are London expensive flats, so they’re still relatively compact. But this... they wouldn’t be surprised if the council flat they shared with their Mum growing up wasn’t much bigger. How big is the rest of the house, and how the hell does Max keep it all clean and sorted by himself?
They realise he spoke belatedly, and finally step inside. “Biscuits? What kind?” And why with gravy? The bacon doesn’t surprise them though, they’ve heard about Americans and their obsession with bacon. It’s a weird combination, but no worse than other things they’ve eaten in the past.
Max full-on cackles when they curse him out. All in good fun, as the ribbing implies. "Don't worry, we'll order something that fits you soon."
His smile does hitch a little higher on his face when they suggest walking around with their fanny out. He wouldn't mind that one bit.
"I know," Max says, noticing their pause at the door. "It's huge. Everything here is about as excessive as it can get." And this is why cleaning the place is a full-time occupation.
He's perplexed by that question, though. "Uh... buttermilk?"
The fanny that Rowan is thinking of is on the other side of the one that Max is. Which is why fanny packs are very definitely bum bags in the UK.
But they've also never really had any experience with buttermilk. It sounds like a thing - maybe they're like milk biscuits? They're not too sweet at least. It might work. Rowan'll eat it in any case; even if it isn't to their taste, they're not going to let food go to waste. "I ain't never heard of them, must be an American thing." They admit, cheerfully. Why do they feel like there's going to be a bit of culture clash going on while they get their feet under them?
"You're going to have to introduce me to a whole lot of shit I don't know over on this side of the pond, I bet." They add, smiling over at Max.
That may be true, but Max would be just as or maybe even more happy to see Rowan with that one out. Might be a little too distracting though... Erik did warn against that.
"Oh my god, that's right." Light bulb is finally going off. "You probably think I'm crazy right now because... you think I'm making a cookie." Ew. Gravy on a cookie. No wonder they don't look jazzed.
"No, no. Biscuits are a savory thing. They aren't sweet. Okay, sometimes they can be, but not these."
The kitchen timer dings as if on cue. Max slips on an oven mitt and pulls a baking sheet out of the oven. And there are the biscuits hot and fluffy, still steaming in fact.
"See? These are what I'm talking about. I think you'll like them?"
"Oh!" ...why the fuck would Americans call a savoury-- then again, you get cheese biscuits, so there are savoury biscuits. As the oven pings, Rowan can't help but trail after Max, perhaps getting a little too close to see what he's got in there, but they duck out of his way as he pulls the tray out with a fluid grace that they didn't mean to display. Still, better that then a burn.
"Those are scones, ain't they?" Their hand hovers out over one for a moment, instinctively going to take one, before the heat catches them. They need to be patient. "They make a lot more sense with gravy though, yeah." Now they understand what Max is planning, and with the scent of fresh baking in the air, their stomach makes a loud rumble. Honestly, even if they had been proper biscuits, Rowan would have eaten it without complaint.
"Can I help?" They add, covering up their embarrassment.
Max is bracing himself for a possible collision, fearing he's about to clock Rowan in the head accidentally with this tray, but they dodge it so expertly he actually takes a surprised breath in, then lets it out with relief. Huh. Okay. Werewolf has got some moves.
"No. Scones are different."
He sees them reaching and has half a mind to bat their hand away, but they seem to catch themselves before touching the too hot pastry. Jeez, they are almost determined to burn themselves at this rate.
The rumbling of their stomach gets a sympathetic laugh out of Max. "I'll take that as a compliment. But uh... You want to grab the plates and silverware and set the table? Well, the counter in this case."
Rowan may be able to guess that the other side of this large central island will be their usual dining place, as there's two tall chairs tucked in under the bar. When they search, they'll find plates stacked in a glass-faced cabinet, with silverware in a drawer directly beneath it. Possibly to their dismay, it will be real silver.
“Guess I’ll find out in a minute.” Rowan chuckles, stepping out of Max’s way. “Yeah, though, I can do that.”
It takes a moment of searching to find where he wants them to sit, and another little while to find the crockery. Once plates are laid out, they return to hunt for crockery, but after finding it, hesitate, one hand extended over the drawer. Then they plunge their hand in, hoping to find normal cutlery underneath. For all that they’ve gotten used to the collar around their neck, and that it doesn’t actually burn them in their breed form, the idea of eating with it sets them on edge.
“Max, you got any normal cutlery at all?” They ask, when their search comes up empty, pulling their hand free and unconsciously wiping it on their shirt. If not, well. They’re hungry enough to put up with it right now, but how long will that last?
"Huh?" He looks up from where he's stirring a little more pepper and milk into the gravy. Accidentally let it get too salty there, oops.
"Normal? What's wrong with... oh. Oh shit. I forgot." Werewolves and silver don't mix.
"Hold on. Yeah, we've got a box around here... I'm pretty sure." He leaves the stove so he can hunt around some of the lower cabinets. Ah, there. He pulls out a box of plastic disposable flatware.
"Here. These should be fine for now. I'll work on getting some stainless steel ones for next time. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. Would that have hurt you to eat off of it?"
While he hunts, Rowan pulls out a set for Max at least, putting them by one of the plates. Then they come back round, waiting to see if his hunt is successful and taking the box in relief when it is.
“Not like this, not hurt. It’s like... you know when you’re alone in the dark and something brushes past you and it makes you shiver? Silver’s like that, when I’m in homid. Not sommat I want to stick in my gob.”
They set out cutlery for themself too, then return the box to where Max found it. “It burns in any other form, though.” They hesitate, then pull up the leg of his shorts, revealing a mark on their thigh, a long, thin line that could easily be a burn that’s healed but not yet faded. “Can’t heal it off either.”
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branchandroot
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Date: 2021-01-05 09:09 pm (UTC)The vampire has other things top of mind just now. He watches them slip from the bed to gather up his clothing and finds his eyes naturally drawn to the outline of their form barely hidden beneath the robe. When he reaches to take the garments from their arm, his hand instead strokes up to their shoulder to caress the curve of their neck.
"Now, that I do believe," he purrs. "She is not as..." he pauses, like he's trying to find the right words, "concerned for the longevity of her Pets as I am. I do not intend to be cruel to you, Rowan. So long as you do not force me to be."
Just then, Max walks through the door wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. He freezes in the doorway when he catches sight of two standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh. Sorry. I... didn't bring any clothes with me to the bathroom. We good?"
Erik drops his hand to their arm and fetches up the rest of his clothing. "Of course. I'll leave you two to get started with your day. I have some business to handle myself. It won't take but a few hours."
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Date: 2021-01-05 09:58 pm (UTC)They were about to respond when Max makes his reappearance. They glance over at him, taking him in, and then letting a smile cross their features. Seriously, they can't fault Erik for his taste, at least. But it only lasts a moment, before they turn their attention back to the vampire, keeping the smile in place. "Yes, master." They drop their head for a moment respectfully, and then pull away.
"While you're looking for clothes, reckon you can see if there's anything what won't fall off me?" Rowan asks Max then, taking a step towards him.
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Date: 2021-01-13 06:56 pm (UTC)Max watches the exchange between the two with a drawn in, purposefully blank expression. He can read his Master well, and can see what thoughts are going through the vampire's mind as he strokes Rowan's slender neck. Max must admit, the sight of his Master lusting over another, having that other call him Master too, is... disquieting. Is he jealous? No. Surely not. But, he is concerned for Rowan. He's not sure he believes they are as willing as they are putting on. Max wasn't, not this soon. But it's possible that smile is real. It's possible...
"I'm sure there must be something," Max answers after only a moment's hesitation. "Might have to dress you in one of my shirts with a belt. That's a fashion statement."
He reaches for them, wanting to feel their hand in his again already. "You doing okay?"
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Date: 2021-01-13 09:23 pm (UTC)Not that Rowan has much of a choice either way.
"Normally I'd complain, but as long as we ain't having guests it ain't no worse than this." They chuckle, leaning into him with easy affection. With the vampire gone, and now finally something close to rested, they feel something close to their normal, friendly self. And there's nothing to lose by being friendly with Max.
"How was your work out? Have you eaten already?"
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Date: 2021-01-15 06:13 pm (UTC)"Shouldn't be any more guests for a while. Just the four of us in the house from now on." Yes. Four.
"Josiah put me through my paces today. Kicked my ass, as usual. If you find any bruises on the back of my calf you'll know why. He made me practice dodging over low kicks until my knees gave out." The head of security, and Max's martial art trainer, does not fuck around.
"Nah, I was waiting to have breakfast with you. I just downed a coffee and a protein bar before training." Which is the norm for him anyway. He doesn't like to eat too much before a heavy workout.
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Date: 2021-01-15 06:24 pm (UTC)"God, I hope Erik doesn't expect me to do that." They laugh, before pulling Max over towards the wardrobe so they can start on getting dressed. Or Max can, at least, and once he's found some clothes that Rowan can wear, they'll take them over to the bathroom for a proper shower with hot water and no vampires scrubbing them down.
"I had a go at pole dancing once and that lasted for a hot five minutes 'cos I couldn't hold my own weight." It was a nice idea, but between their degree and doing werewolf things on the side they didn't have the time to build up their strength enough for it. "Most exercise I normally get is running for the tube or dancing in the club." Well, and certain bedroom activities.
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Date: 2021-01-17 02:58 pm (UTC)"I can't promise he won't. He's pretty strict with me about keeping my fitness regimen."
He laughs as he's pulled along, marveling at how his belly flutters with each new touch from them. It's just a friendly tug on his hand, he tells himself, what's there to get so excited about?
"Won't be any more club dancing for a while, unfortunately, but I like dancing." He shoots them a sly smile. All kinds of dancing, including dirty.
And then he'll do a nice sexy wiggle of his hips for them as he slips off the towel and starts dressing. Rowan can get a nice long look at the goods underneath until they disappear behind several layers of fabric.
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Date: 2021-01-17 03:13 pm (UTC)That is a nice wiggle, but Rowan's trying not to stare too much, so they poke his side, then start looking through drawers to see if there's anything they'll be able to borrow. Basically any of Max's shirts will make a good minidress on them, it's just a shame they'll have to go without anything underneath. On the other hand, it's still more covered than they are now, even if they will be flashing the houses' other inhabitants anytime they have to bend over.
"Between the two of us, we should be able to get through things, though. You'll have to get me started, but it ain't like I don't know how to clean or whatever." They add, a little less flirtatiously. "Can I pinch any of these shirts for now?" Because if that's the case they'll take the longest one that has short sleeves.
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Date: 2021-01-18 10:15 pm (UTC)Max actually finds it a nice relief how casual Rowan is about helping themselves to his wardrobe. As much as he enjoys hosting, he doesn't often do it quite like this.
"Sure, take any one you want. I can't say I have a personal attachment to any of this."
As for the chores. That is a point Erik told him to iron out today. "I have a schedule I follow," he tells them, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against a low dresser set inside the closet that holds his folded clothes as well as his few pieces of nightwear. "It should be easy enough to follow.
"The main thing is that it's a lot of house to look after. So, I dust and vacuum one quadrant of it per week on a regular schedule. Same with the linens. I handle all of my own laundry, and, well, yours now too. Dishes get done as soon as I'm done using them. I cook all my own meals. General maintenance like mopping, cleaning, disinfecting gets split up by days of the week. We pay people to do the outdoor work, at least. So, we don't have to do outside windows. Just the inside.
"The weekends are a little different. I spend Saturday evenings with Erik. And then I'll usually sleep in pretty late on Sundays and not do much of anything for most of the day. Maybe some paperwork if I didn't get it all done on Friday. If I'm up to it." What he's not saying is that the reason he has to take it easy on Sunday is that Erik feeds from him the day before and it always leaves him terribly fatigued then next day.
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Date: 2021-01-18 10:25 pm (UTC)"Like what I said, I'll do the washing up if you cook. I ain't so good with ironing and shit either, but anything else I'm good to do, so if you got chores what ain't your favourite, now's the time to sponge them off on me."
Stepping closer to Max again, they smile up at him easily. "At least I can take some of this off your back. Share the load, right?" Some of Saturday as well, perhaps, for better or for worse. At least if what Brida said is true, Rowan's blood should sate the vampire quicker. Probably just as well, given how much smaller than Max they are.
no subject
Date: 2021-02-02 07:59 pm (UTC)When they step nearer he can feel his heartrate kick up a notch. Is it supposed to be like this? When was the last time he felt such instant attraction? Just having them look at him with that smile, that open affection, he already craves more of it. More time with them no matter what they end up doing.
"I..." his mouth feels dry and he licks his lips in a vain attempt to wet them. "I think we'll be able to share the load just fine. I don't mind if we make it up as we go." Is he even still talking about the chores? He's not sure anymore.
"Anyway," he shakes himself out of it. "Let's finish getting ready and we can talk it over more at breakfast. You must be starving by now."
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Date: 2021-02-02 09:57 pm (UTC)“I’m going to shower first, though. Is there anything I shouldn’t use in the bathroom?” Because if not, they’ll just use whatever smells good. “Try not to make too much mess in the kitchen while I’m gone.”
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Date: 2021-02-04 05:23 pm (UTC)"As far as shower stuff? Use whatever you feel like for now. I'm sure Erik will eventually end up picking out scents for you that best compliment your natural smell but until then, he probably won't complain if you smell like me."
The vampire has a sensitive and picky nose and he has gone to great pains to make sure all of Max's voluminous skin and hair care products compliment his scent profile perfectly. Rowan will have quite a lot to pick from when they get in there between shampoos, conditioners, bath soaps, face creams, lotions, gels, body butters, aftershave, and more. All of it will have a common theme, spices. Apparently, Max's natural scent goes best with cinnamon, vanilla or clove. The man doesn't just make desserts, he smells like one.
He snorts a laugh as he turns to leave, "No promises about the mess. But, I can promise the results will be worth it. See you in a bit."
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Date: 2021-02-04 06:37 pm (UTC)Like everything in this place, it's bigger and more luxurious than pretty much anything that Rowan's come in to contact with before. They have to take a moment to muddle through half the pots and lotions in there, trying to figure out what half of them are. They're still not sure they've got everything, but they manage to find a shower gel and shampoo at least, set the shower to hot, and once it's steamed up, slip out of the silk gown and step in.
Only then, finally confident that they're alone enough, and can't be seen through the steam do they allow themself a moment to break down, curling up in the bottom of the shower and scrabbling with desperate fingers at the collar around their neck. But it's hopeless; there's no noticeable seam on the beautifully and cleverly crafted thing - without the key, there's nothing they can do.
So instead, they stand up abruptly, swaying for a moment under the hot water as bile rises in their throat and lights burst behind their eyelids. They manage not to faint, and set about scrubbing themself almost raw, rinsing down the drain all the unwanted and unwelcome contact of the last few months. And then, finally, they wash themself off and clean their too long hair, and force their emotions back behind their mask, before stepping out of the shower and getting to work making themself presentable once more.
When they knock on the door, they're all light smiles and easy going again, bouncing on the balls of their feet impatiently. Their hair is mostly dry and combed back out of their face, Max's shirt worn like a mini dress, pulled in at the waist by a belt and a couple of careful tucks. They've also riffled through his things to find a pair of gym shorts that are tight enough to not fall down immediately, especially with the belt helping, and while they're not going to be winning any fashion shows any time soon, they're more covered than they've been in a long time, and it feels good. "Hey, Max, come let me out if you want company for breakfast!" They call, amusement and teasing in their voice.
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Date: 2021-02-07 10:09 pm (UTC)If that's what they need to do, then Max wants to let them have the privacy for it. As glad as he is to have a new companion, he remembers the anguish of being trapped. That's why he'd put up no fuss, and why he didn't offer to wait down there for them. It's only natural. It's why he'll do his best not to draw attention to it if he sees any puffy eyes or slightly too raw skin.
"Coming. I'm coming. You don't want me to burn the gravy, do you?" he teases back through the door.
There's the sound of numbers being punched in from the other side and then the door opens. He lets out a genuine laugh when he sees them standing there in that ensemble on the other side. "Here we have the latest in fall fashion. Ha. No, I'm just kidding. Come on out, I'll show you to the kitchen."
It isn't far. Just two rooms over. It's, predictably, huge. Everything is industrial-sized. The stove has eight burners under a giant hood and the refrigerator is a double-wide. All the countertops are polished grey marble, including a huge kitchen island. There are more cabinets than a kitchen could possibly need and they are all painted white and spotless.
"I'm making biscuits and gravy," says Max, "with bacon. I hope you're hungry."
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Date: 2021-02-09 01:42 am (UTC)They follow Max to the kitchen, but pause in the doorway, taking it all in. It’s obscenely large. They've seen expensive flats these days, since the Sept is rich, but those are London expensive flats, so they’re still relatively compact. But this... they wouldn’t be surprised if the council flat they shared with their Mum growing up wasn’t much bigger. How big is the rest of the house, and how the hell does Max keep it all clean and sorted by himself?
They realise he spoke belatedly, and finally step inside. “Biscuits? What kind?” And why with gravy? The bacon doesn’t surprise them though, they’ve heard about Americans and their obsession with bacon. It’s a weird combination, but no worse than other things they’ve eaten in the past.
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Date: 2021-02-15 04:27 am (UTC)His smile does hitch a little higher on his face when they suggest walking around with their fanny out. He wouldn't mind that one bit.
"I know," Max says, noticing their pause at the door. "It's huge. Everything here is about as excessive as it can get." And this is why cleaning the place is a full-time occupation.
He's perplexed by that question, though. "Uh... buttermilk?"
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Date: 2021-02-15 01:53 pm (UTC)But they've also never really had any experience with buttermilk. It sounds like a thing - maybe they're like milk biscuits? They're not too sweet at least. It might work. Rowan'll eat it in any case; even if it isn't to their taste, they're not going to let food go to waste. "I ain't never heard of them, must be an American thing." They admit, cheerfully. Why do they feel like there's going to be a bit of culture clash going on while they get their feet under them?
"You're going to have to introduce me to a whole lot of shit I don't know over on this side of the pond, I bet." They add, smiling over at Max.
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Date: 2021-02-22 02:56 pm (UTC)"Oh my god, that's right." Light bulb is finally going off. "You probably think I'm crazy right now because... you think I'm making a cookie." Ew. Gravy on a cookie. No wonder they don't look jazzed.
"No, no. Biscuits are a savory thing. They aren't sweet. Okay, sometimes they can be, but not these."
The kitchen timer dings as if on cue. Max slips on an oven mitt and pulls a baking sheet out of the oven. And there are the biscuits hot and fluffy, still steaming in fact.
"See? These are what I'm talking about. I think you'll like them?"
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Date: 2021-02-22 03:52 pm (UTC)"Those are scones, ain't they?" Their hand hovers out over one for a moment, instinctively going to take one, before the heat catches them. They need to be patient. "They make a lot more sense with gravy though, yeah." Now they understand what Max is planning, and with the scent of fresh baking in the air, their stomach makes a loud rumble. Honestly, even if they had been proper biscuits, Rowan would have eaten it without complaint.
"Can I help?" They add, covering up their embarrassment.
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Date: 2021-03-01 10:09 pm (UTC)"No. Scones are different."
He sees them reaching and has half a mind to bat their hand away, but they seem to catch themselves before touching the too hot pastry. Jeez, they are almost determined to burn themselves at this rate.
The rumbling of their stomach gets a sympathetic laugh out of Max. "I'll take that as a compliment. But uh... You want to grab the plates and silverware and set the table? Well, the counter in this case."
Rowan may be able to guess that the other side of this large central island will be their usual dining place, as there's two tall chairs tucked in under the bar. When they search, they'll find plates stacked in a glass-faced cabinet, with silverware in a drawer directly beneath it. Possibly to their dismay, it will be real silver.
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Date: 2021-03-02 03:01 am (UTC)It takes a moment of searching to find where he wants them to sit, and another little while to find the crockery. Once plates are laid out, they return to hunt for crockery, but after finding it, hesitate, one hand extended over the drawer. Then they plunge their hand in, hoping to find normal cutlery underneath. For all that they’ve gotten used to the collar around their neck, and that it doesn’t actually burn them in their breed form, the idea of eating with it sets them on edge.
“Max, you got any normal cutlery at all?” They ask, when their search comes up empty, pulling their hand free and unconsciously wiping it on their shirt. If not, well. They’re hungry enough to put up with it right now, but how long will that last?
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Date: 2021-03-09 10:20 pm (UTC)"Normal? What's wrong with... oh. Oh shit. I forgot." Werewolves and silver don't mix.
"Hold on. Yeah, we've got a box around here... I'm pretty sure." He leaves the stove so he can hunt around some of the lower cabinets. Ah, there. He pulls out a box of plastic disposable flatware.
"Here. These should be fine for now. I'll work on getting some stainless steel ones for next time. I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about that. Would that have hurt you to eat off of it?"
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Date: 2021-03-09 11:27 pm (UTC)“Not like this, not hurt. It’s like... you know when you’re alone in the dark and something brushes past you and it makes you shiver? Silver’s like that, when I’m in homid. Not sommat I want to stick in my gob.”
They set out cutlery for themself too, then return the box to where Max found it. “It burns in any other form, though.” They hesitate, then pull up the leg of his shorts, revealing a mark on their thigh, a long, thin line that could easily be a burn that’s healed but not yet faded. “Can’t heal it off either.”
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Date: 2021-03-12 03:12 pm (UTC)"That sounds so unpleasant..."
He wishes he could remove it for them. Only Erik or Josiah have the key. Max has freedom in this home, in some ways, but not enough.
"Jesus..." he whispers in astonished horror when they lift the shorts to reveal that mark. Silver did that?
"That's awful. How did that happen?"
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From:where to go from here? time skip? or maybe wrap and start a new one?
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