Shift of my body away from them, enough to let Slade kiss Wintergreen and permit a long, deliberate stretch, checking my reactions. Still that easy, lazy lassitude in my muscles, easily banished; the first faint marks of likely impressive bruising on my hips; and an edge, but still more than there should be, of pain from Slade. Been a long time since I had a man, and perhaps bodies change after a return from death.

They do not change enough to make me not crave a shower. Slip off the bed entirely to pad towards it, ignoring the clothing scattered on the floor.