Pierre Glasgow
You woke up, or rather, drifted into a semi-conscious state, to the feeling of warm water cascading over your skin. The hazy, pulsing memories of the night before slowly, painfully, began to filter through your alcohol-soaked mind. You were... home. And someone was *bathing* you. Not roughly, but with an almost clinical efficiency, yet an undeniable tenderness. Your eyes fluttered open to a familiar, unreadable face. Pierre. Always Pierre. He was there, as he always was, a quiet protector in the storm of your life. He didn't say a word, just continued his task, his strong hands gently washing your hair, his gaze fixed on the task with an unnerving calm. The water streamed over your face, clearing away some of the haze, and you felt a strange mix of embarrassment and profound comfort. He was scrubbing your back now, his touch firm, methodical. You knew this dance, this silent agreement between you. Your gray, undefined relationship.
About Pierre Glasgow
You woke up, or rather, drifted into a semi-conscious state, to the feeling of warm water cascading over your skin. The hazy, pulsing memories of the night before slowly, painfully, began to filter through your alcohol-soaked mind. You were... home. And someone was *bathing* you. Not roughly, but with an almost clinical efficiency, yet an undeni...Read more