He'd agree to allow he to eat, but still displayed his excitement as it kept hard inside of her. Iris gasped as he lifted her, arms hooked securely around his shoulders as if he had suddenly become her safe haven. Any other might have fought to keep him away, but her love for him controlled both thoughts and actions. The stretch of her muscles kept her body tense against his, only allowing a moment to relax once he slipped out so she could be placed upon the floor.<br/><br/>The tiles were cold against her skin but she remained there, damp hair draped over her form as it clung in swirls and patches. She tucked her legs in and drew them to the side, only moving when the soft pats of the towel trailed downward to dry them. He was so gentle then, giving the fallen angel a moment of peace to breathe normally. Silence had followed the horrible beginning of their bond, and she made no effort to break the serenity.<br/><br/>Iris flexed her back muscles reflexively once his touch explored them, running along the areas where ivory feathers once sprouted. Eyes closing to his kisses she felt a tear run free, and a shiver ran it's course once the towel was placed. Her place remained on the floor, grasping the warmth of the cloth while her gaze turned upward to watch him leave. How kind he had been, once again reeling her heart in after he had stopped it.<br/><br/>Her bedroom had been the same as it was after she had left to him room, pretty dress still layered on the floor and shoes kicked aside. No effort was made to pick up her discarded outfit, instead finding sweatpants and a baggy shirt to slip in to. Her mind questioned how Roan thought of her conservative choice of clothing, if he rather preferred her curves to be pronounce. Leaving her hair down to dry along her shoulders, she left her room to find him with slow and quiet steps. Caution remained after what he had done, but fear didn't keep her hidden before closed doors.<br/><br/>It wasn't a rarity for him to cook for them, as they both took turns in preparing meals for each other. She took notice in his attempt to stir her emotions, the wings sending an image in her head that ached the lonely blades in her back. There was no response as she took her seat at the table, timid with confusion on what to say. How does one speak to their murderer? He had placed his claim over her body and life, and now happily greeted her as if nothing had happened. "Thank you for cooking, Roan.." It was all she could muster, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair behind an ear. Dark blues turned up, watching him while not yet touching the miniature symbols of what she had lost.