He watched her shrink. It was strange, wasn't it, to speak so civil after he'd murdered her. Their new union was perfect in that he couldn't have imagined it. She'd made him special. Roan leaned in and kissed her wet cheek while his member twitched in her, to compliment how lovely se was after so many trials. He laughed softly against her skin and sat back, prolonging his time inside her. She didn't seem to mind it all that much. She obviously misinterpreted his meaning. It was a little lewd of the angel, wasn't it, to think love always meant a cock in her. Perhaps that's all he'd taught her with his treatment of her since she'd unintentionally shared her secret.<br/><br/>"Alright. Eat first." he gave and mocked disappointment. She'd let him drown her, and revive her with his thrusts. That should be enough to earn her a meal, at least. Roan held her to him and lifted her out of the tub while still enjoying her. He groaned as her bountiful moist elicited more blood in him. But he'd already said, hadn't he? He sighed as he put her down on the floor, finally, slipping out of the place he'd not known before yesterday night. Roan quickly took a towel to her back.<br/><br/>Engrossed, he dabbed her with the fibrous material, soft. They'd bought it together, she'd been concerned for what he preferred and he'd joked that he liked it rough. Iris hadn't laughed at that. They ended up choosing these, compromising on color - bright - and buying upscale because of a sale. It felt like another life, their polite friction through those days, and still having gravitated toward one another. This had been the only possible outcome, then. It tasted like a bad thing to think he couldn't possibly have resisted killing her, but he didn't know if going through their lives like satellites around volatile gravitation would be preferable either.<br/><br/>As he wiped the pearly treasures off either side of her spine, he was struck by the image of the appendages he'd seen in his dreams. There was nothing like that now on her. She would know what he was thinking. How could se not, the way he lingered at the inside tips of her shoulder blades. Roan continued to dry her, stomach, legs, inside thighs, breasts. He even caught her hair in a deep fold of the towel to rub it between his hands. They could have been a conventional unit then, in a scene that was memorable for itself rather than what had preceded it.<br/><br/>When he was satisfied with the water content in her dark strands that had been black arms in the water she'd drank too much of, he kissed the bases of her absent wings and hung the cloth on her shoulders. She could have the bathroom after that. He'd not deserve this kind of quaint, but he partook in it. Maybe it was better for her too, that he liked the smaller, warmed moments as well. Roan felt incredibly refreshed when her went over the threshold. This was the newest day he'd ever begun.<br/><br/>He was merry in the kitchen, comfortable clothes on and hair still damp. It was free from bands but brushed behind one ear as he finished up what he was doing. It was later in the day so he'd opted for heftier fare than the breakfasts they'd have on their own. Despite his candid, and along side whatever memories she saw on him now, he'd put some perversion in the dish. Wings, of course, and something fried golden for starch - it wasn't really center stage by the meat. He turned to her as he put the plates on their table.<br/><br/>"Well look at you, all squeaky clean."