It'snot Important
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...two characters? Where to begin...okay--I have ten chapters in my Fantasy/Fiction book, and I am working on finishing the longest chapters, 11 & 12. Anyway, there are two fatherly/motherly characters that look after the four children (main characters). One, a Goldheart (Noumenon Changer/Demigod), is named Mr. Wolff. He is 69 years old, though he looks younger for reasons you wouldn't understand unless you read the book. He owns Wolff Manor, is very rich, is a anthropologist, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then, there is Ms. Marian Hallman, his assistant, who is 59 years old. There's a very complicated and tearjerking story behind their relationship when they were in their twenties and thirties having to do with the enemy, a werewolf bite, over-drinking, and a son. Anyway, they had to give up their son, they had a fight, he was drunk--and she left. He had already deserted the second Guild war, and after she left he continued drinking and almost lost his house. Then, when he was fifty-five, she came back and he agreed to employ her as his assistant. So, in the 11th and 12th chapters, everybody's been trekking through the desert, they've fought two Darks (They enemy, Galvin and Lily) and a few Hellhounds, then they blow up the dwarf compound that has the fuel so the Darks can bore down into Atlantis--and Mr. Wolff teleports them back to London once they've done this, and after talking, everybody goes to their rooms. I wanted a sentimental (not erotic) scene between the two, in which Marian tends to his wounds, shaves him, etc. I don't know where, but I read that grooming shows love in a way. 
Bear with me. Sorry for the long/rushed introduction:
Although dirt and sweat clung to his face, Benjamin collapsed onto the armchair as soon as he entered the room, disregarding his mud-caked shoes by the contemporary fireplace and happy to be in his home country. He rubbed his wounded shoulder, blood soaking through his shirt, creasing his eyebrows in pain.
“Let me see,” whispered a voice. Soft, small hands pried his giant, beaten hands away from his wound and pulled aside his shirt, unbuttoning it. Sticky, warm blood caked the thick, wispy hair on his chest, bleeding from a deep gash across his skin. She ran her fingers over the wound, then the cuts on his hairy cheeks, and then through his oily hair. “You need to bathe. It’ll get infected if you don’t,” He nodded quietly, standing up with a strain on his back.
The bathroom was completely covered in granite-colored tile, a single shower spout in the middle of the ceiling. Steam fogged the entire room as he washed; breathing in the humidity and feeling the water beat against his skin. Every joint and bone in his body aching, he turned off the water, snatching his robe from the rack and stepping over to the mirror to assess his appearance. He lathered his rough chin and hairy cheeks, bringing the razor to the edge of his sideburn. His hand shook from the pain in his arm, the handle dropping to the floor. As he bent down to reach for it, he found that Marian had already picked it up. “Let me help you.” she said quietly, stepping up to him.
After stroking over his hairy face and carefully shaving his upper lip, she ran a comb through his wet hair until it was dry. White hairs were mixed with grays, browns, and reds, all soft to the touch. She laid her chin upon his head, resting momentarily and sighing.
Second Answer--You really helped me! As for adjectives--hairy #1 could be replaced with 'stubbly', and hairy #3 could be replaced by 'scruffy'. I like the idea of lingering on the shaving part. It does require trust. When this has been up for an hour, I'll give you best answer! Unless, of course, there's one that's better--but I highly doubt that.
Third Answer--I know! I love old love stories. I like them much better than love stories between people in their thirties and below. It's wierd because I'm thirteen. I guess that's why other girls make fun of me....
Bear with me. Sorry for the long/rushed introduction: Although dirt and sweat clung to his face, Benjamin collapsed onto the armchair as soon as he entered the room, disregarding his mud-caked shoes by the contemporary fireplace and happy to be in his home country. He rubbed his wounded shoulder, blood soaking through his shirt, creasing his eyebrows in pain.
“Let me see,” whispered a voice. Soft, small hands pried his giant, beaten hands away from his wound and pulled aside his shirt, unbuttoning it. Sticky, warm blood caked the thick, wispy hair on his chest, bleeding from a deep gash across his skin. She ran her fingers over the wound, then the cuts on his hairy cheeks, and then through his oily hair. “You need to bathe. It’ll get infected if you don’t,” He nodded quietly, standing up with a strain on his back.
The bathroom was completely covered in granite-colored tile, a single shower spout in the middle of the ceiling. Steam fogged the entire room as he washed; breathing in the humidity and feeling the water beat against his skin. Every joint and bone in his body aching, he turned off the water, snatching his robe from the rack and stepping over to the mirror to assess his appearance. He lathered his rough chin and hairy cheeks, bringing the razor to the edge of his sideburn. His hand shook from the pain in his arm, the handle dropping to the floor. As he bent down to reach for it, he found that Marian had already picked it up. “Let me help you.” she said quietly, stepping up to him.
After stroking over his hairy face and carefully shaving his upper lip, she ran a comb through his wet hair until it was dry. White hairs were mixed with grays, browns, and reds, all soft to the touch. She laid her chin upon his head, resting momentarily and sighing.
Second Answer--You really helped me! As for adjectives--hairy #1 could be replaced with 'stubbly', and hairy #3 could be replaced by 'scruffy'. I like the idea of lingering on the shaving part. It does require trust. When this has been up for an hour, I'll give you best answer!
Unless, of course, there's one that's better--but I highly doubt that.Third Answer--I know!
I love old love stories. I like them much better than love stories between people in their thirties and below. It's wierd because I'm thirteen. I guess that's why other girls make fun of me....