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In the dead of winter, Rogue welcomes the warmth of the heated bath. He groans softly as he slips in almost like a fish, his slender body barely disturbing the still surface of the water. It hugs the worn scars across his body and he props himself on his back, laying his head against the outer edge.
“Impatient, are we?” Sting muses as he joins in with a bit less grace, splashing water as he plops down and shimmies in until he’s nestled between Rogue’s legs leaving his chest to act as the perfect cushion. Rogue doesn’t answer, but like this, it’s even better.
There’s a gentle aroma wafting through the bathroom, mixing with the petals floating in the water. To a normal person, it might have been much too subtle, no more potent than a spritz of perfume sample on someone’s wrist. However, the two dragon slayers found it perfect, their refined senses concentrating it tenfold.
Rogue starts to lather up his hands with unscented shampoo and works it through Sting’s coarse hair. “How did the meeting go?” he asks.
Sting hums noncommittally. “There’s going to be an alliance in the coming months to hunt down a new rising dark guild. Nothing too crazy. Just us, Lamia Scale, and another smaller guild down south. It sucks that Fairy Tail isn’t joining. Supposedly, they said if they did, likely our repair fees would cause permanently irreversible damage.”
“They’re not wrong,” Rogue says, a twinge of bemusement in his tone. “You’re just sad that you can’t fight Natsu again.” Sting makes a low sound like a puppy who’s been caught chewing the couch again.
“Must you see through all my flaws?”
Rogue chuckles and gets to rinsing out the suds. “Unfortunately for you, I do, and I don’t particularly care. I love them all. Your passion allures me. Fighting or otherwise.”
He finishes up and taps Sting three times on the shoulder. Sting begrudgingly moves and swivels. They swap positions so Rogue is lying in his arms now. He returns the favor, lathering up Rogue’s hair and getting out all the day’s grime. It’s a bit different from his own wild tangles that Rogue has expertly learned to comb through in record time. His fingers glide through Rogue’s hair easily even before it’s clean. And when he’s done, they’re silky to the touch.
Rogue flinches a bit when String presses a nose to this head, inhaling it even though it’s still very wet.
“Hey,” he barks though without a single ounce of bite. “The only hairs in your nose should be your own, you know. Besides, there’s no smell in the shampoo. What’s there to entice you?”
Sting raises a brow. “Oh, you don’t know?”
“Enlighten me.” It’s Sting to taps him, and Rogue turns to face him. “Well?”
The blond smirks and leans in for a kiss. Rogue’s taken aback at first but closes his eyes as he melts into his mate’s touch. As they break for air, Sting tilts his head. “It smells like you, and that’s my favorite scent of all.”
Heat flushes Rogue’s cheeks and the shadow dragon slayer sinks into the water, though not before Sting catches and drags him back. He flashes a cocky grin as Rogue’s heart does little flips in the water like an acrobatic dolphin.
“God, that was so bad. I could punch you right now. I should!” he bursts.
“But, you love my cheesy flirting, Rogue,” Sting points out. And what can Rogue deny? Because he truly does. He loves the cheesy lines and loves their shared baths. He loves the feeling of his fingers brushing through his hair and how his nails are curved like dragon claws, itching his scalp in all the right places. He loves and loves and loves. At the heart of it all is one man.
“Yeah, I guess I do. I love you, Sting,” Rogue whispers.
“And I you, my little shadow. I love you, Rogue.”
Sting’s gaze softens as he gives one more peck on his forehead as a blessed touch. Although there are many more moments like this in his future, he knows, Rogue still wishes he could capture it forever.