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Involuntary Sharing

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The sun beat down upon Margot as she diligently washed clothes in the river beneath her. Unassuming, she hummed a small tune as she moved her soapy tunic against the metal grate, making sure to get the suds every which way. Moving an arm to wipe her brow, she didn’t even notice Vachir approach.

The tall Au Ra was walking slowly due to his injury. The stab wound in his side was stable, yet painful. Wincing just slightly, he leaned on a tree, deciding to take in the view before revealing his presence. Margot would just make him lay down again, anyways. After a yawn, he focused his gaze towards the girl, only to see something… peculiar. If he wasn’t mistaken… no, that was definitely his shirt she was wearing. Shifting his weight slightly, he couldn’t help but notice the way his over-sized tunic clung to her curves, sudsy with soap and the frothy water below. The cotton hugged her breasts and bottom, leaving little to the imagination as she bent over her work. Vachir’s pants began to feel a bit snug as his eyebrows furrowed angrily.

Why in the Seven Hells would she even think that was acceptable? For all she knew, he was still incapacitated in his tent! It wasn't as if there weren't bandits rampant in the Twelveswood. What if an errant Coeurlclaw hunter walked upon her like this, what then? This foolish girl was never going to think rationally, and for that he decided he was going to teach her a lesson.

Margot didn't turn until she heard a splash behind her, the sound of Vachir stepping into the water. As soon as it registered for her, she straightened and turned with a little gasp, her eyes wide.

"W... W-What are you doing up?" she scolded, eyebrows furrowing, completely oblivious to the fact that she was wearing his shirt. "You... You're s-supposed to be in bed..."

"Well, I'm not," he said bluntly, cracking his neck. After a moment, he stepped closer to her, prompting the girl to take a step back, tripping over the clothes behind her. Spending a few steps regaining her footing, Vachir simply scoffed and continued walking towards her. Before long, he had backed her against a nearby tree, his tunic still damp against her body.

Looming over her, his dark red eyes revealed his annoyance as his gaze flicked from the cotton back to her face. "...That's mine," he said. It almost seemed to take a few moments for Margot's brain to process his words, for her reaction was delayed as color landed on her cheeks.

"R-Right, well, I-I wanted to, uhm... D-Do the, I mean, our laundry and... I-It was the only clean thing left, so..." she offered, her eyes constantly flicking from his gaze, to his chest, then to the ground. All Vachir gave in reply was a snort, continuing to stare unscrupulously at her face.

Crossing his arms, he looked down at her as he repeated, "It's not yours." All Margot could do was nod sheepishly, but as she began to walk back to her work, he sidestepped to interrupt her.

"Give it back," he grunted. Margot's eyebrows furrowed. Did he mean--

"Now."

Well, that answered it for her. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked up at him, her fingers skirting at the hem of the tunic. "Uh... U-Uhm..."

Before either of them could continue the tense standoff, Vachir groaned in pain as his hand shot out to lean his weight against the tree as he clutched his wounded side. Margot squeaked silently before attending to his side, gently placing her hands on the cut (ignoring his hiss) and murmuring a spell. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, her voice low as water from the river rushed around her hands, coating his side and relieving the pain for the time being. Bliss bloomed in his body from the pinpoint of the slash, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan of pleasure, his claws scratching the bark of the tree. After her work was done, he felt significantly better but was far too worn out to even remember what he was up to. Woozily, he leaned fully against the tree, his forehead resting against the bark.

Margot wordlessly slung his arm around her shoulder, dragging him back to his bedroll and placing a wet rag atop his head. Asleep again, thankfully. The smaller woman let out a sigh, stroking her companions face with her thumb before standing up and walking back to the laundry in the river. He wasn't quite lucid, she mused, when he asked her to take off the tunic. Yeah, that was it... He just... wasn't completely there.

Despite telling herself this, she couldn't contain a shiver as she thought of what could have been as she scrubbed the rest of their laundry.