Work Text:
You're crying on the toilet when you hear a knock on the bathroom door. Before you can do more than turn to look at it, it opens to reveal Strade.
"I heard you crying," he explains, as if him invading your privacy was unusual.
You wipe your eyes. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't sound like nothing, buddy." He points at your underwear. "Is that what you're upset about?"
"Fine, yes," you snarl. "It's just my fucking period, okay? You can leave, I know how to deal with this."
He chuckles. "And how are you going to 'deal with this' when I don't have anything for you to use for it?"
You look away from him, frustrated. You just wanted one thing to keep to yourself, but your reliance on Strade means that he's right about you needing to share even your preferred menstrual products with him.
You feel his hand on your chin and you jump, not having realized he'd walked in. "Come on, Leibling," he says, turning your head to face him. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then we can take care of the rest, hmm?" He reaches around to the bathtub faucet and turns it on.
Reluctantly, you stand up and step out of your shorts and underwear and into the tub. You listen to Strade taking off his clothes behind you before he gets in with you and closes the curtain.
He reaches up past you to grab the removable showerhead and pulls it behind you. Your face grows warm as he spreads your asscheeks and sprays the water, and gradually moves lower, with him forcing your legs apart and spreading out your folds to clean there as well. You swallow, furious as the red water below you flows towards the drain. How is this more invasive than if he'd just molested you like he always did?
He eventually gets the showerhead aiming toward your pubic area in the front, and then you feel a couple fingers from the hand that had been separating your labia go inside you and push out the couple of bloody clumps in there. Disgusted with the man, you grit your teeth as you watch those go down the drain, too.
"There we go, buddy." You see him reach to put the showerhead back, and then pause.
Then he flips the toggle on the showerhead to change the output of the water until it's a strong, thin jet of water coming from the center. You feel his free hand expose your clitoris, and then he aims the water and oh
You shut your eyes and bite your lip, and Strade uses the arm exposing you to pull you tightly up against him. "Let's see if we can replace your cramping with something more pleasurable?"
Because of course it wasn't enough to touch you like this to get himself off or to clean you off like an animal that didn't know any better. No, the son of a bitch had to steal this dignity from you, too.
Worse, it was working. The water was just the right pressure, and he held the showerhead so steady. He held you steady, too, which was (almost) a relief as your legs started to wobble.
A small whine escapes you as the water continued to spray directly on such a sensitive spot. "Let it out, Schatzi," he says in your ear. "You've screamed so beautifully for me before, something you've never done for anyone else. You can do this for me, too."
You try to hold back, but it's eventually too much and you throw your head back, resting it on his chest as the water just melts you down to nothing.
"Good," Strade says when you open your eyes again. He's breathing hard, and you can feel his erection against your backside. He reaches to put the showerhead back and turn off the water before he pulls you out of the tub.
"S-Strade," you say, teeth chattering. You hadn't noticed how hot the water must have been. "What about a t-towel?"
He grabs your hand and starts leading you to his bedroom. "You won't need one," he purrs. "I'll be warm enough for you."