After in the bathroom
The bathroom filled with quiet steam, curling around the small tiles and fogging up the mirror. The city outside blinked with lights, but inside, it felt like time had slowed.
Arin stood in the doorway, towel in hand, watching Lucien run the bath. The water shimmered, soft with bubbles and scented faintly of lavender—Lucien had stolen the bath oil from Elsa's house last week.
"You sure?" Arin asked quietly, arms folded.
Lucien turned, still kneeling by the tub, his voice warm. "Yeah. Let's just... relax. No weird stuff. Just us."
Arin hesitated, then nodded.
They stripped slowly. Not with lust. Not with urgency. But with care. As if each layer pulled away a bit of armor.
When Arin stepped into the bath, Lucien followed, sitting behind him, legs on either side of Arin's slim waist. The heat soaked into their bones.
They sat in silence, the only sound the soft splash of water.
Arin leaned back into Lucien's chest. Lucien froze, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around Arin slowly.
His fingers brushed over a faint line on Arin's side.
A scar.
Arin shifted, then reached back, tracing one on Lucien's ribs.
Lucien flinched.
His breath hitched. "He used to beat me. When I didn't pay."
Arin's hand stopped.
Lucien added softly, "It wasn't just fists. Sometimes belts. Chains. Once, a cigarette."
Silence hung heavy.
Arin turned, slowly, facing him.
Lucien's eyes burned.
Without a word, Arin leaned forward and kissed Lucien's collarbone. Soft. Gentle. Healing.
---
After the bath, Lucien carried Arin out in a towel, bridal style, and dropped him gently onto the bed. Arin chuckled, cheeks flushed.
They were both damp, robed, breathless.
Arin glanced down and smirked. "You're hard."
Lucien blushed. "You're not exactly subtle either."
Arin straddled him suddenly, pushing Lucien onto the bed.
He untied his robe, letting it slip off one shoulder seductively.
Lucien's eyes widened.
"Arin..."
But Lucien flipped them.
Now Arin lay beneath him, hair spread across the pillow like black ink. Lucien leaned down, kissing his jaw, his neck, then sucking, marking him.
Arin moaned softly, nails dragging down Lucien's back.
Lucien devoured him, leaving trails of kisses, bites, love bites across his chest, collar, down to his hips.
Arin tugged Lucien's head up and bit into his shoulder gently, sucking until a hickey bloomed on Lucien's golden skin.
Breath heavy, Lucien's hand slid lower, fingertips grazing the curve of Arin's inner thigh, closer to his entrance.
Just as he was about to touch—
Arin shuddered and pushed him hard.
Lucien froze.
Arin's face was red, furious.
"Fuck no. I'm not the bottom. No way in hell."
Lucien blinked. Then laughed breathlessly.
"We'll see about that, my tiger."
---