First Step in the new World

Ofelia knelt behind James, her heart pounding in her chest. Her face burned hotter than ever, her cheeks a deep crimson as she dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out. Despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her, her voice had been steady when she'd told him to sit and let her take care of this. She refused to let her embarrassment show—not in her tone, at least.

"Alright," she said firmly, standing and moving closer to him. "Take off your clothes. You can't wash properly with them on," she replied matter-of-factly, crossing her arms as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Come on, don't make this difficult."

James turned slightly, his face already flushing. "I… I know that," he muttered. "I just—could you at least… turn around or something?"

Ofelia gave him a flat look, unimpressed by his hesitation. "Just hurry up, and I'll make sure you're covered. You can leave on a cloth for… modesty." She gestured toward a nearby towel-like cloth on the table.

Muttering under his breath, James reluctantly complied. He stripped down, leaving only the cloth wrapped securely around his waist, and then sat on the small stool Ofelia had placed facing the door. His arms crossed over his chest as though to protect what little dignity he had left.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Ofelia said, stepping behind him with the bucket and her supplies. She dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out before starting to wash his back. The cool sensation of water and soap against his skin made him flinch slightly, but he quickly adjusted, sitting still as she worked.

Ofelia focused on her task, her hands steady despite the swirling emotions inside her. "You can relax, you know," she said softly, her tone lighter than before. "It's just washing."

James let out a small, awkward chuckle. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one sitting here half-naked."

She bit her lip, grateful he couldn't see the way her cheeks flushed even deeper. "Just… stay still," she said, avoiding his comment. Her hands worked quickly, moving over his shoulders and back with practiced care. She tried to focus on the task and not on the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers.

A few droplets of water splashed onto her clothes, dampening the fabric of her simple shirt and skirt. She frowned, glancing down. "These clothes will just get soaked," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Without a second thought, she straightened up and began undoing her shirt.

James stiffened at the sound of fabric rustling behind him. "Uh… what are you doing?"

"I'm taking my clothes off," Ofelia replied plainly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "They're just getting in the way. Don't worry—I'm keeping my underclothes on. And don't even think about turning around," she added sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I wasn't going to!" James said quickly, his voice rising slightly in protest. His hands gripped his knees as he stared resolutely at the door in front of him. "This is fine. Totally fine," he muttered to himself, trying to steady his nerves.

Ofelia removed her shirt and skirt with practiced efficiency, draping them over a nearby chair. Standing in her underclothes, she felt the cool air on her skin, her blush intensifying. She knelt back down, grabbing the cloth and resuming her work on James's back.

The silence between them was heavy, filled only by the soft sounds of water and fabric. Ofelia's hands moved with precision, though her heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated slightly before continuing. "James, you're… really tense. You should try to relax."

James let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," he said dryly. "It's not exactly easy in this situation."

"You're making it harder than it needs to be," Ofelia replied, her tone softening slightly. She finished scrubbing his back and paused, wringing out the cloth. Her eyes lingered on his shoulders for a moment before she spoke again. "Alright… I need to do the front now."

James froze, his posture stiffening. "I… I can do that part myself," he said quickly, his voice tight.

Ofelia narrowed her eyes at him, even though he couldn't see her. "You're weak. You'll just make a mess and end up hurting yourself."

"I can handle it," he insisted, his voice rising slightly.

She sighed, grabbing a spare cloth and folding it into a makeshift blindfold. "If you're really not going to look, then this shouldn't be a problem," she said, stepping in front of him.

"Wait, what?" James stammered, his head tilting slightly toward her voice. "Why do you—"

"Stop arguing," she cut him off, tying the blindfold securely over his eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the knot, her face inches from his. "There. Now you can't see anything."

James sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," he muttered. "This is so ridiculous."

Ofelia knelt in front of him, her hands steadying as she dipped the cloth back into the water. "It's not ridiculous. It's practical," she said firmly. She hesitated for a moment before beginning to wash his chest, her movements careful and deliberate. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, her eyes darting to his face to ensure he wasn't peeking.

"You… okay?" James asked, his voice quieter now. "You're being awfully quiet."

Ofelia's blush deepened, and she quickly shook her head. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "Just… focusing."

James let out a small, awkward laugh. "I'm not sure which of us is more embarrassed right now."

Ofelia's lips twitched into a faint smile despite herself. "Probably you," she replied lightly, her tone softening. She finished washing his chest and leaned back slightly, avoiding his blindfolded gaze. "Alright… you can handle the rest yourself."

James nodded quickly, his hands moving to adjust the cloth around his waist. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice low.

Ofelia stepped away, her heart racing as she busied herself with rinsing the cloth. The tension in the room lingered, but a small part of her felt a sense of accomplishment. She had managed to stay composed—mostly—and James had trusted her enough to let her help.

As James finished drying off, he spoke softly. "Ofelia… thanks for… you know, helping."

She glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks still flushed. "You're welcome," she said simply, her voice quieter now. Despite the lingering awkwardness, a small smile tugged at her lips. They had managed to navigate this moment together, and that felt like a step forward.

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James was doing everything in his power to endure this ordeal. He kept his jaw clenched and his hands firmly gripping his knees, forcing himself to focus on anything but the situation he was in. Just stay calm. She's just helping you. This is fine. It's fine, he repeated in his mind like a mantra, though the growing heat in his face betrayed his internal struggle.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, his thoughts began to wander. Ofelia's presence was impossible to ignore—her small, delicate hands moving across his chest, the light touch of the cloth against his skin. He could feel the warmth of her fingers even through the damp fabric, and every soft brush sent a shiver up his spine. Why does this feel so… intense? he thought, his mind betraying him further.

He knew she was behind him just moments ago, undressing to keep her clothes from getting soaked. The thought of her standing there in her undergarments, her cheeks undoubtedly flushed with the same embarrassment he felt, made his pulse quicken. Stop it, he scolded himself internally. Don't think about her like that. She's just trying to help.

But it was no use. His mind conjured images of her—her emerald eyes filled with determination, her slender frame moving with a grace that seemed almost ethereal. Even now, kneeling in front of him, she carried herself with a quiet strength that both intrigued and disarmed him. She's beautiful, he admitted to himself, his thoughts slipping further from his control. And here she is, in her underclothes, right in front of me… touching me.

That last thought sent an involuntary shiver through his body, one he couldn't suppress in time. Ofelia paused for a moment, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, but she didn't comment. She simply continued her work, her hands moving carefully over his chest and shoulders.

The sensation of her touch, combined with his wandering thoughts, began to overwhelm him. He tried to push the feelings away, but his body had other plans. Slowly, without his consent, he felt a heat building in his core, spreading downward until he could no longer ignore it. His eyes widened behind the blindfold as he realized what was happening.

No. No. No.

But it was too late. The cloth around his waist began to shift, lifting slightly as an unmistakable reaction took hold. A tent formed beneath the thin fabric, and James felt a wave of panic and humiliation crash over him. This can't be happening. Not now. She'll see. She'll notice!

He stiffened, trying to adjust his posture subtly to hide the situation, but every small movement seemed to make it worse. He could feel his face burning hotter than ever, the blindfold doing nothing to shield him from the sheer embarrassment flooding his entire body. Please don't notice. Please don't notice, he begged silently, though he wasn't sure whether he was praying to her or to some higher power.

But he couldn't deny the truth: the combination of her presence, her touch, and the overwhelming intimacy of the moment had completely undone him. And now, all he could do was sit there, mortified, as his body betrayed him.

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Ofelia's hands trembled slightly as she continued her work, running the damp cloth across James's chest and shoulders with precise, almost mechanical movements. She focused intently on the task, doing her best to block out the whirlwind of emotions flooding her mind. Her cheeks were burning so hot she was certain her entire face was crimson.

Why am I like this? she thought, biting her lip. It's just washing. It's nothing. He's injured. He needs my help. She repeated the thought like a mantra, trying to push away the more intrusive ideas that crept in. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the truth was impossible to ignore.

James was sitting right in front of her, half-naked, and she was the one touching him. Her fingers brushed over his skin as she worked, feeling the warmth beneath the damp cloth. His body was strong—stronger than she had expected. She could see the faint outlines of muscle, the scars on his hands that hinted at a life of hardship, and the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. It was… mesmerizing. He's… different than I imagined, she thought, her blush deepening.

Stop thinking about that, she scolded herself, shaking her head slightly. But her hands betrayed her, lingering just a moment too long on his shoulder before she moved to his arm. Her gaze flickered up to his face, and she was relieved to see the blindfold firmly in place. She wasn't sure she could handle meeting his eyes right now.

Does he feel this embarrassed? she wondered, her chest tightening at the thought. She'd seen his reactions earlier—the way his ears turned red, the way he stiffened at her commands. It was oddly endearing, and it made her heart flutter in a way she didn't fully understand. He's probably mortified. Just like me. But…

Her eyes darted back to his chest, her gaze involuntarily tracing the lines of his collarbone and the curve of his shoulders. She swallowed hard. He's… really… The thought trailed off, unfinished, as her hands moved lower, brushing against his stomach. Her fingers grazed the taut muscles there, and she nearly dropped the cloth. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Her blush deepened further as her thoughts spiraled. She couldn't deny that she was curious—her situation as an elven slave had left her with little opportunity to understand anything about men, let alone one as unusual as James. And now, here he was, trusting her, letting her see this side of him. It was overwhelming. And then, she noticed it.

At first, she thought she was imagining things. But as she adjusted her position to clean his sides, her gaze inadvertently fell lower, and she froze. Beneath the cloth covering his waist, there was a distinct… shift. A movement. Her emerald eyes widened as the cloth began to lift slightly, forming a small, unmistakable tent.

Her mind went blank for a moment, her hands hovering uselessly in the air. Is that… what I think it is? Her face burned even hotter as realization struck her like a lightning bolt. It is. Oh gods, it is.

For a split second, she didn't know what to do. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her composure. He doesn't know I noticed. He doesn't know I can see. Just… keep going.

She forced her hands to move again, though they were less steady now, her touch lighter and more hesitant. Her mind raced with thoughts she didn't dare voice, a mix of embarrassment, curiosity, and… something else. He's thinking about me, she realized suddenly, the thought making her stomach flip. That's why. Because I'm here. Because I'm…

She bit her lip hard, trying to focus on the task at hand. Don't think about it. Don't say anything. Just… finish quickly. But her blush refused to fade, and her heart refused to calm. She was acutely aware of every breath he took, every slight movement he made. And now, she couldn't stop wondering—what was he thinking about?

Forcing herself to continue, she moved the cloth carefully, her movements slower now as her own shyness overwhelmed her. She had never felt so flustered in her life, but she refused to let it show in her voice or posture. He doesn't need to know. He can't know.

Yet, deep down, she couldn't help but feel a small flicker of satisfaction. He's embarrassed, she thought, her lips twitching into the faintest, shyest smile. But… he's thinking about me.

Ofelia's hands trembled slightly as she continued her meticulous work, her blush never fading as she moved the cloth across every inch of James's upper body. She avoided speaking, knowing her voice would betray her embarrassment, and instead focused on her task with determination, trying not to let her gaze linger too long on any particular area. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—curiosity, nervousness, and something she couldn't quite name.

Finally, she finished the last part of his legs, her hands hesitating as she realized there was only one part left. Her face burned hotter than ever, and her grip on the cloth tightened. She glanced up at James, who still sat stiffly, blindfolded, his jaw clenched as if he were enduring the greatest test of his patience.

Clearing her throat softly, she said, "I'm… done with everything else." Her voice was quiet, but steady enough to mask the turmoil inside her. "Only your, um…" She trailed off, unable to say the words outright. Instead, she gestured vaguely toward his lap, knowing he couldn't see her.

James immediately tensed, his entire body stiffening at her words. "I'll do that part myself," he said quickly, his voice slightly hoarse and strained. He shifted slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the cloth around his waist as if to secure it in place. "You don't… you don't need to handle that."

Ofelia blinked, relief washing over her even as her embarrassment surged anew. She nodded quickly, though he couldn't see it. "Alright," she said softly, standing and stepping back. "I'll… just go behind you, then."

She moved back around to his other side, keeping her eyes firmly on the bucket of water instead of looking at him. Her heart was still racing, but a part of her was grateful he had taken control of that part of the situation. Kneeling again, she busied herself with rinsing the cloth and wringing it out, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to regain her composure.

Behind her, she could hear James shifting slightly as he worked to clean himself, and her blush deepened at the thought. This is fine, she told herself firmly, biting the inside of her cheek. He can take care of it, and I'll just… stay over here.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional splash of water as James completed the task himself. Ofelia kept her back to him, her gaze fixed resolutely on the bucket. She felt her breathing begin to steady as the awkwardness of the moment slowly passed.

After a few minutes, James finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. "Alright… I'm done."

Ofelia glanced over her shoulder, making sure to keep her eyes on his upper body rather than anything else. "Good," she said simply, standing and grabbing a dry cloth to hand to him. "Here. Use this to dry off."

James reached for it, his fingers brushing hers briefly as he took it. She quickly pulled her hand back, pretending not to notice the way her blush returned. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice still a little strained.

She stepped away again, keeping her distance as he dried himself off. Despite the lingering awkwardness, she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. I managed to do it, she thought, her heart still fluttering. And he… trusted me. 

Though she was still mortified by the whole situation, a small part of her couldn't help but feel a lot closer to James now, even if neither of them would dare admit it out loud.