Of Mercenaries & Love Affairs

"Knock it off!" Eric snapped. "You're getting a shower." He elbowed the man in the chest, shoving him away from the door just long enough so he could block the door, using his body as a barrier. "You're not leaving this room until you're clean."

"Faggot!" The boy snapped, not even considering removing his clothes "Whoez going to ztop mee, 'ou puzzy!" Christophe gathered himself, bringing his elbow down hard on Eric's cheek. Normally this would have caused him to stop, check on his lover, but he was too busy in his haste to get to the door.

"Namecalling is extremely," He punctuated the word by sweeping his leg behind both of Christophe's feet and sharply dragging it forward, effectively knocking Christophe to the floor. "Immature." He finished, ignoring the pain in his cheek as he moved to the ground, straddling the man's waist as he tugged at his shirt, yanking it off over Christophe's head.

There was a soft snort as Christophe hit the floor, but as Eric climed on top of him he began to struggle. His shirt came off though, and when it did he began thrusting his hips, trying to buck the man off of him. "Sheet!" He reached up his fists landing randomly Eric's chest. Under the shirt was just as filthy as his actual shirt was. Dirt was layered so thick he almost looked African.

Eric coughed, sputtering as the grime from the shirt swirled in a dust cloud in front of his face. He tossed the shirt aside, grimacing down at the dirt on his chest.
"Get in the damned shower." He growled, lifting Christophe to his feet once more and pointing to the shower. He wore a deep frown as his eyes locked with those of his lover.

"Non! Geet zhe 'ell out of my facee!" Christophe's gaze was almost hateful, his face drawn together in anger. He inched his way toward Eric, his hands capturing the front of the mans shirt. Pressing himself forward, he made to kiss Eric. His lips landed on the corner of Eric's mouth, his arms locking behind his back. He rubbed his cheek, still bloody and dusted with soot, across his lovers face. Holding Eric still, he pressed him close, trying to imprint the filth from his chest onto his clothes.

Eric was confused at first, not realizing why he was being kissed although he let it happen, enjoying it even. It wasn't until a moment later when he realized just what the man was doing. He shoved his hands at Christophe's chest, glaring as he pulled back from the kiss, feeling the grime all over his face.

"Now, focker, 'ou need a bath." He made another move for the door, his jaw set in determination. Screw a bath, he was going to enjoy his time with Livius.

"That's it." Eric let out a growl, grabbing Christophe by the waist and shoving him with a hard jab of his shoulder so he fell backwards, tumbling into the bathtub. The force of his fall sent bottles of shampoo and other things falling into the tub but he ignored them, stepping in the tub to hover over the man. He reached up to grab the showerhead, yanking the cord until he had a good grip on it before spray Christophe directly in the face, clothes and all.

Christophe shrieked, his language immediately flipping to French, profanities coming so fast from his mouth they made no sense. His hands blindly fly forward, one entangling in Eric's hair while the other grabbed onto a bottle of bodywash that had fallen. Popping the cap, he pointed it at Eric's face and began to squeeze. The contents burst forward, landing in clomps in the boys eyes.

"Fucker!" Eric growled loudly, rubbing at his eyes furiously. He sprayed Christophe's face harder moving the shower head close to the mans face. He moved to sit atop of Christophe's chest, yanking the man's hair into his fist in one hand while the other hand grabbed a bottle of shampoo. He squirted some of the substance into the mans hair, roughly beginning to massage it into his scalp.

"Donkeey deeck focking beetch!" Christophe thrashed about savagely underneath the weight of his lover, snarling as the man roughly washed his hair. He could not stand for his hair to be pulled on, it sent violent shocks through him. Brought back things better left forgotten. "Sheet!" He jerked his head forward, bashing their skulls together. It was almost debilitating for a moment, Christophe found himself stunned still by the force of it, by the searing pain in his brain.

Eric cursed as well, his head spinning with the force of Christophe's head butt.
"Goddamnit!" He attempted to shove Christophe away once more. "Will you just let me wash you!" He snapped, his hands still working to shampoo the mans hair.

"Ztop focking pulling my 'air!" Christophe flailed around, backing himself up into the corner of the back. He swung blindly, trying to back Eric up long enough for one moment of peace.

"Only if you agree to wash the rest of yourself." Eric spoke, moving to fold his arms across his chest. He was still fully clothed and soaked by now.

Christophe hesitated, his hands coming to rest on the button of his pants. "We weell zee." He unbuttoned them, and began peeling them away. The water around the drain was a rust brown with blood and dirt. Sand gathering around as the water was filtered away.

"Thank you." Eric sighed with relief as he looked down at his soaked clothes and began to peel them off of himself as well. He watched Christophe closely in case the man tried to run again.

Christophe slung his grimy soaked jeans at Eric, hitting the man square in the face with the garment. "Take zhat, 'ou beetch!" He didn't attempt an escape, but reached for a rag and a bar of soap from the edge of the tub.

"You're such a bitch sometimes." Eric groaned as he watched the man, stripping down and sitting in front of him in the tub. "Are you going to wash yourself or do you want me to do it?" He arched an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest.

Chrkistophe paused, his eyes falling to sweep himself. Looking back up at Eric, he gave an irritating cackle. "I'll wash my deeck." He sounded the word out, stretching his thick accent. "But 'ou 'ave to geet my back."

Eric rolled his eyes, but a small smirk threatened to appear on his lips.
"You're irritating." He shook his head. "But, fine."

Christophe's gaze dropped to his lap where he lathered his rag and began to scrub over his legs. White bubbles soon turned brown, his legs becoming almost three shades lighter. He continued to wash, though his eyes had moved to Eric. "I am not eeritating. I deed not want zhiz. We would 'ave been finee without eet."

"No we wouldn't." He chuckled, shaking his head as he watched, his nose wrinkled lightly in disgust. "I don't know if you realize this, but I love kissing you, and holding you." His words lowered to a murmur at this part, his lips pressing gently to Christophe's neck. "And making love to you." He smiled gently as he spoke, glancing back up to meet Christophe's gaze. "And all of that is ten times more fun when you are not covered in dirt."

Christophe's eyes were warm and brown, large though as he held Eric's gaze. He was still not quite used to the fact that people even want him around. His body shuddered as he felt the mans lips on his neck. "I zuppoze zhiz eez okay zhen..." If touching him was more appeasing when he was clean then he just had to be clean. "I am almozt clean anywayz." He waved a hand, trying to duck his head. His cheeks were hot, his face set into a grimace. The things Eric did to him had never felt before, it was shocking.
But welcomed, though Eric wouldnt know that.

Eric grinned lightly as he pulled back, grabbing a rag and helping clean his lover by running it over his chest. The man was extremely cute when he blushed like that.
"Almost clean." He nodded in agreement.