*Runze's POV*
The warm water laps gently against my chest, carrying away the lingering ache of the morning.
The tub in our bathroom is deep, carved from a single slab of dark marble, but sitting in it now, I barely feel the hard stone. My back is resting against Bael's bare chest. His long legs are spread on either side of mine beneath the surface, anchoring me safely between his thighs.
Behind me, Bael is quiet. Lazy.
His soap-slicked hands move over my body in slow, mesmerizing strokes. He glides his palm over my shoulder, down the length of my arm, trailing his fingers over my knuckles before circling back up to my chest. His jaw rests on my shoulder, his warm breath fanning across my damp skin with every deep exhale he takes.
After the storm we just passed through, this quiet feels almost sacred.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks. The only sound in the room is the rhythmic splashing of water whenever he shifts, and the low, steady thud of his heart against my spine.
