<hr/><div align="center"><em>Autolycus washes Sorcha<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/>Muscles clenched and unclenched and the Picts pale white flesh shimmered under the thin film of water that now covered her body. She was clean now. There was no reason to continue washing her and yet Autolycus found himself doing just that, unable to stop. The sponge was a mere prop now, he was well aware, but he continued to hold it as he drew circles on her skin, trailed the shape of her breasts, followed the strange patterns of her scars and tattoos before slithering further down towards her most intimate parts, warm and moist with more than just water.<br/><br/>He paused to look at her face, saw her eyelids slicker and wondered what it would be like if she woke up now. Would she struggle, writhe even more than she was already? Would she scream and spit at him...? Strangely the thought only served to arouse him further.<br/><br/>He thrust his hand down, running the sponge over her sex now, over black curls and pink lips and over the little nub that was hidden between.<br/>