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The fireplace sparkled in golden and bright orange tones. Flames dancing, up and down. It was so quiet that the crackling resounded in the entire room.
They sat on the thick, soft rug right in front of the fire ballet that was happening before them. At this point, there was minimal space between them, limbs intertwined, sides almost touching. They took every opportunity they had. Not just to be close, but also, even for a brief moment, to feel their flesh heating up and the warmth of skin on skin, a fleeting feeling that emulated humanity. Humanity they had lost many years ago, now forever trapped in the bodies of ever-present cold.
This, was a nice break from that.
Nadja’s emerald eyes reflected the flame and the Guide found themselves watching every movement of it. She was tightly clutching their hands, gently circling the palm of one of their hands with the tip of her thumb.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” the sound of Nadja’s voice made the Guide refocus.
“No reason,” their hand touched her face and she leaned into the touch immediately, one of the many things the Guide found so remarkable about him, how he absolutely loved to be touched by them, “I just like to look at you.”
Nadja squinted, but a trace of a smile lingered on her face before she pressed a kiss to their palm. They leaned in closer, still not letting go of his cheek. A kiss on the corner of her mouth, then another, traveling up her cheek just to divert and place another one on her jawline, then at the intersection of her neck and head. His chuckle was a sweet sound.
Their hand wandered into his scalp, lightly stroking, “Nadja-mou, can I brush your hair?”
For a second, Nadja stopped in her tracks. Brushing her hair, she reflected, a tenderness she cherished, but denied everyone, except for Laszlo. And when he had been away, maybe occasionally, as a last resort, she would let Guillermo do it, but other than that, nobody ever did that for her. Now, before him sat the Guide, with hands as soft as the highest quality silk he used to try at marketplaces in remote countries, the question hung between them like a thin veil of such silk and Nadja realized tearing it down could help her revel in their intimacy even further.
Throughout centuries, she had many lovers, all of which had the honor of sharing physical intimacy with her, but very few were intimate with her on other levels. For those few, she reserved touches that weren’t leading to anything sexual, just pure proof of existing together, special glances and her many stories, the ones that didn’t have a punchline or a witty moral refering to the topic, but she told them anyway, because she knew they would listen. She was one hell of a lover. That was true, in many contexts. Sometimes, as she laid embraced by someone so extraordinary to her, she dreamed of clawing her way into their body and laying her head under the layer of ribs and sternum, under their heart, so she could be as close as she felt. It corresponded with her vampiric nature, she supposed.
“Yes, dear,” he grasped their hands and caressed their skin with his thumb, “You can.”
Standing up and walking up to a dresser made him realize just how warm the fire was and how his skin missed its absence. The dark oak wood dresser had a total of seven drawers. Each one of them had meticulously engraved ornaments and golden handles, one of them posed some trouble while opening, but from what he remembered, there was nothing particularly important inside of it.
After a while of browsing through one of them, he pulled out an ornate, ivory comb he found long, long ago and never seemed to get rid of. It was her favorite.
Nadja returned to her seat beside the fireplace and handed it to the Guide. Soon, her back was turned to them and she was waiting.
For what, he wasn’t sure. She remembered the first time her father had to brush her hair for the first time, when her mother was busy feeding her little brother. He complained and grunted all the way through the task and one could say she was her father’s daughter, because she did too, constantly repeating that he was pulling too hard. That could happen again, but it didn’t.
The Guide took dark strands in their hands and carefully brushed through thick tresses, paying attention to occasional tangles. The comb scratched her head just right. Sometimes, they would touch a piece of the skin on his head and it made him shiver right away. What he loved the most, was how slow and deliberate they were, as if they cherished this connection as much as he did, well, maybe they did.
“Am I not pulling too much?”
“No,” she smiled at the question alone, “It’s just perfect.”
The Guide let out an audible chuckle, “I’m glad.”
After getting through the entirety of her hair, they moved it to the side to expose a fragment of her shoulder and leaned down to kiss it.
It was warm and exhilarating. She wanted to grab their face and kiss it over and over again, until they giggled so hard it made their stomach ache. Instead, she asked:
“Can I braid your hair?”
The Guide’s eyes widened a little, hesitant, they weren’t able to form an answer.
The truth was, they couldn’t even remember any time someone had asked them that question. They weren’t sure if anybody had ever braided their hair and even if they did, it disappeared from their memory like many of their memories after they had been punished by the Council. One thing they knew is that they despised anyone touching their hair. The feeling of their scalp being touched was unbearable, instantly making their skin crawl, which was the reason why they preferred to have a hat atop their head at all times, resting securely and protecting them from unpleasant sensations.
“Hey,” Nadja mumbled after not receiving a response, “Can I?”
“I… don’t know.”
“Hm?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure if I will like the way it feels,” they confessed.
Nadja slowly tucked a strand of their hair away and kissed the palm he was holding.
“Maybe just let me try and see, I’ll stop right away if you don’t like it, what do you think?”
They stared into the depth of his eyes, still glowing with the flame, now more dim than before. Her voice was more hushed, too. In the few bars of silence after her question, there was a realization that she meant it, Nadja genuinely wanted them to feel just right and would do all that she could to alleviate their discomfort. Despite all the times she was angry and mean, despite all the times she fucked them senseless, she wanted to be gentle with them. Nadja knew how to be gentle, from asking them how much pressure feels best when he hugged them, through making sure they weren’t overwhelmed with his touch on hard days, to his hands, hands that would never try to hurt them, unless they asked.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Lovely,” she smiled, that radiant expression glowing more than the fire beside them.
Nadja took her time taking off their hat, patting their head and it felt so sweet, they would have blushed if they could. This wasn’t heavy, wasn’t rough and tingly. Her hand felt fine on their head, fine enough for them to lean into the touch when she divided their hair into two parts with her fingertips and started brushing through one of them.
“Is this okay, baby?”
They couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s fine, the comb just feels a little rough on my head.”
“Ah, sure,” he lifted the lock of hair and started brushing it away from their head.
Then, Nadja divided the hair into sections and began to braid it.
“You know, when I was a child,” he started another one of his stories that they liked hearing so much, perhaps because it was admirable to them how he still made the effort to not let go of his human days and still remembered, “I had many sisters. My older sisters taught me all the ways I could do my hair for some celebrations, or just to keep it away from my face. It was a long process, because they always said I have the thickest hair in the family, it got tangled all the time. But, I was one of the middle ones and one time I was doing the younger ones’ hair and it was Helen, I believe, who, basically took my title. I tried to brush it out but she kept screaming that I’m pulling too much and so on.”
A pleasant haze overtook them, listening to the story and being treated with such care was blissful and they wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else at the moment.
“Your hair, on the other hand, very easy to work with. See, I’m already done with one.”
They reached out their hand to run through the finished braid and their fingers felt a sensation so positively surprising, their hair seemed even softer than before.
Nadja moved on to the other braid, resting her wrists on their shoulder, a sweet pressure. The process got a little long and at that point, they were a little bored of it, just wanted to be able to turn around and go back to kissing Nadja, holding his hand, looking him in the eye.
“Finished!” she exclaimed, finishing the braid off by tying it with a black satin ribbon.
The Guide turned to her and she admired her work, but most of all, admired how beautiful they looked, especially in their new hairstyle.
“It’s a pity you can’t bring me a mirror, like in those TV shows where they do makeovers,” they remarked plainly with a lopsided smile.
Nadja chuckled and they followed. Her low, quiet giggle sweetly resonated in the room, to the point that it made them lightheaded with happiness.
When they looked into Nadja’s eyes, right before kissing her again, they didn’t reflect a lively flame, only a burning ember, but neither of them paid it any mind. They felt warm anyways.