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It’s starts, as most things with Papa Perpetua do, with a sigh that feels like it can summon storms.
You find him sitting behind his desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment, reports, books and relics that hum faintly with old magic. His masked face is tilted slightly downward- a for sure sign of agitation- and the hair along his neck has puffed up like a disgruntled feline.
“You’ve been at this for hours.” You say softly. “Even eldritch creatures need a break sometimes.”
One of his dark brows raises. “Creature, hm? How flattering.” His claws tap against his desk, amusement dancing through his tone of voice. “And what do you propose, little one? That I take a stroll through the gardens? Meditate? Perhaps…get a manicure?” He teases.
“Actually,” you state boldly, “I was thinking of something more along those lines.”
He chuckles- a deep rich rumbling that reverberates through your chest. “You wish to pamper me? My, My, My. You do enjoy tempting fate.”
Minutes later, you somehow convince and sit down your ancient Papa into a plush robe (of course, black in color), with a towel wrapping around his curls on his head- all while the suspicious look on his face grows. His tail flicks lazily over the arm rest of the chair while you light candles that immediately fill the room with the scent of sandalwood and myrrh.
“This feels like a trap.” He tuts dryly.
“It’s called self-care.” You correct him.
“It’s absurd.”
“It’s working.”
You dip a clean cloth into warm water and begin to gently clean and massage at the spines of his wings- extremely careful, entirely reverent. He tries to remain stoic, but eventually his eyes flutter half shut and a low involuntarily sound vibrates in his chest and throat.
“See?!” You murmur, “even great and terrible beings can enjoy being spoiled.”
“Careful.” He warns, although his voice is laced thickly with honey. “If you keep this up…I might decide that I enjoy your insolence.”
“That’s the idea.” You grin.
By the time you coax him into the steaming bath- towering bubbles and all- his earlier resistance to this idea melts away entirely. He lounges back against the porcelain of the bath tub- like a deity on his throne- utterly content as steam curls up through his hair. You perch beside him on the edge of the tub, rolling your sleeves up as you begin to scrub and polish his claws clean.
He peaks one eye open at you. “You missed a spot.”
You arch a brow. “Oh yeah? Where?”
“Here.” He reaches out, catching your wrist and tugs you into the bath with him, a wicked grin on his lips. The splash echoes through the bathroom, and your hysterical laughter follows- his own is soft and unguarded.
For a moment everything slows down, everything is easy. Warm water, gentle touches, the faint pulse of ancient magic that always seems to hum between both of you. His tail coils lazily around your leg, just enough to remind you who- or just exactly what- he is.
“You see, little one,” he murmurs, brushing a damp lock of hair away from your face. “You cannot pamper a creature like me without offering a little of yourself in return.”
You smile up at him, tracing a scar on his shoulder. “Then it’s a fair trade.”
He leans forward, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead- lingering, possessive in nature- and settles back with a content sigh.
“Yes,” he says finally. “Even creatures need a pamper day. But only if you’re the one administering it.”
Later that evening, after the candles burn low and the air goes soft with incense and warmth, you find yourself cocooned in one of Perpetua’s robes- which is far too large for you- all velvet and shadow.
He lounges across the couch nearby, hair damp, claws gleaming faintly from your earlier care. You have never seen him look so content. Perhaps, maybe it was just how satisfaction looks on a creature of his stature.
“Feeling better?” You ask, smiling over the rim of your teacup.
He hums, low and pleased. “I feel magnificent. Refreshed….adored.” He cracks his white eye open and smirks. “And slightly ridiculous, which is a sensation I have not felt in centuries.”
“That’s the point.” You tease, adoration slipping into your voice. “Humility through exfoliation.”
“Blasphemy,” he says- but he is laughing as he rises to his feet, tail flicking about lazily.
“Now then carissimo, I believe I owe you…something in return.”
You set your teacup aside warily. “Oh no…what are you planning?”
“Nothing wicked. Well…” he pauses in consideration. “Nothing too wicked.”
He gestures for you to sit at the edge of the couch, and when you do, he kneels- yes kneels- before you, taking your hands in his. His claws trace your palms with surprising tenderness.
“You spent your afternoon tending to every inch of me,” he murmurs,”It would be poor manners not to do the same for you.”
Before you can protest or argue, he begins massaging your hands, careful and deliberate. Warm oil shimmers between his fingers as he works- not ordinary oil- an oil with the faint golden gleam of enchantment woven through it. Each touch leaves your skin tingling, completely relaxed to the bone.
“Perpetua…” you start, voice immediately going soft.
He only smiles back at you, eyes hooded. “Hush. Let me worship the one who dared to pamper a creature like me.”
It is both equal parts ridiculous and profoundly tender- the type of thing only he can make feel sacred. His thumbs press slow circles into your wrists, his voice a low hum of half-words in a language older than the ministry’s stones.
When he finally looks up, his eyes burn with a fierce intensity that takes your breath away. “There.” He says. “Now you’re glowing too.”
You laugh quietly. “You’re entirely impossible.”
“And yet,” he replies as he smoothly rises to his feet. “You keep inviting me back in.”
He leans down and kisses you- just a soft and gentle brush of his lips, lingering with warmth. Then he draws back, satisfied.
“Tomorrow,” he states outright, with the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “We’ll see about your turn in the bath. I have a few…improvements to make to the experience.”
“Should I be worried?” You tease lightheartedly.
“Oh, always.”
His laughter echos down the hall as he walks away and vanishes into the shadows. You cannot help but smile- knowing that somehow you managed to tame the untamable, if only for one indulgent, perfect day.