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It began as a joke.
No, really.
Scott would be lying if he said that Mike didn’t well and truly scare the living hell out of him the night that he nearly drowned himself by simply taking a bath in Scott’s own home; his home, only hours after finding Mike out cold on the side of the road all alone. And he just about died in a tub of jasmine-scented bath water. If it could’ve gotten any worse, Scott had no idea how.
But this wasn’t then, and Scott had every intention of ensuring that Mike was safe.
Scott had been doing some work in the yard all morning—on his off weekend, no less, and Mike couldn’t figure out why he felt responsible for everything under the sun all of a sudden. Truthfully, nor did Scott. Any other time in the past, he probably would’ve relied on a groundskeeper to see to the task of upkeep outside of the home, but Scott was changing; Scott was different.
Mike was usually very eager to help around the house whenever he could despite Scott asking so little of him. Success at fulfilling chores around the home made it feel that much more like his—like something that they were building together, and the knowledge of that settled like warmth in his heart.
Home.
Needless to say, they were both filthy from the neck-down in dirt and dust from a day of raking leaves and trimming bushes. Autumn had approached hot off the heels of the Summer heat, and their world was quickly enveloped in the cool breeze of swirling leaves each day.
Scott knelt down to turn the faucet as the tub filled with warm water, and then came the soap: a blend of citrus and sea salt, perhaps? A scent foreign to Mike, but pleasant nonetheless.
“All right, Mikey, now get comfortable but not too comfortable,” Scott said with a chuckle beneath his breath, “You’ve been all right so far, but remember what happened when you first got here?”
“Heh, yeah, you never let me forget it, dude,”
Mike shrugged off his sweater and rolled his shoulders. “I mean, if you’re so worried about me you may as well hop in, too.”
Mike meant it as a joke, truthfully, but it’s not as if they were strangers to the act of sharing a shower from time to time—or a bed, or the couch, and usually under no false pretenses about just how badly they craved each other’s attention; though, the novelty of it all never seemed to wane for either of them.
He wasn’t expecting Scott to take him up on the offer.
It wasn’t long before they were both settled in the heat of the water as it made short work of the residual dust on their skin. Even with the tub being as large as it was, there was no denying even Scott’s grandiose bathtub was no match for both of their bodies combined. They sat opposite of one another, a mess of overlapping legs and knees exposed to the air, and they couldn’t help but laugh at how foolish they looked.
“I think I have an idea of how we could make the most of this arrangement,” Scott said after a moment, fingers tracing patterns lazily on Mike’s calf; eyes downcast.
“Yeah? Does it involve a softer landing than the back of this tub?” Mike chuckled and closed his eyes with the intention of resting again before Scott spoke, “Actually, yeah. Come over to my end?”
Mike opened his eyes and shifted in place before scooting down to where Scott sat.
“Uh, like this?”
Mike repositioned his legs to the opposite end where he’d sat and rearranged his legs to make more room. Maybe it was a bit more spacious now to just sit beside Scott; though Scott, as usual, had a better idea in mind.
“Here, just—just sit in front of me.”
Scott laid a hand on Mike’s shoulder and gently coaxed him to sit between his legs, which gave them more than enough room to sprawl out at will.
“Yeah, now lean back.”
Mike did as he was told—leaning back against Scott’s chest slowly—and relaxing enough to rest his head against Scott’s shoulder. Mike sighed in contentment and closed his eyes again to the feel of Scott’s fingers trailing from his knee to his hip, up the ever subtle curve of his side, then back down again. Mike sought comfort in repetitive motions like this, Scott learned, and he was all too happy to oblige. Scott enjoyed touching Mike just as much as Mike reveled in being touched; an equally beneficial exchange.
Scott allowed his hand to gradually wander from Mike’s hip to his inner thigh with only the barest hint of any pressure. Mike quirked his eyebrow and shifted slightly with a laugh beneath his breath.
“That kinda tickles, you know,”
Scott brushed his lips against the shell of Mike’s ear and laughed, himself.
“Just relax, alright? I’ve got you.”
Mike’s hair had gotten longer during the months that he’d been living with Scott—shoulder-length, and perfect to tangle his fingers in.
Scott gently kneaded his knuckles against the flesh of Mike’s thigh—repeating the motion on his opposite leg. His free hand trailed from Mike’s forearm to cup his neck—angling it ever so to expose his jaw. Though this was by no means new territory for him, Scott never tired of how pliant and open Mike became while in his arms; how much faith Mike has in him to treat him the way that he deserved to be treated. That thought in itself gave Scott a heady sense of power that rippled through him like an electric current as he lowered his lips to the flesh beneath Mike’s ear and pressed one, two, three kisses down to where his shoulder met his neck. Scott felt more than heard Mike’s sharp intake of breath as he stirred in his lap; though, not at all from discomfort.
“Ah, Scott, I—“
“Shh, hey, take it easy, Mikey. Wouldn’t want you to get too worked up, right?”
Mike shuddered as Scott wound his arms around his midsection and he felt the sudden need to grasp at something; anything to assuage the restlessness in his nerves. He laid a tentative hand atop Scott’s to thread their fingers together. The simple act brought a grin to Scott’s face, which only grew wider as he felt Mike guide his hand further beneath the water.
Oh.
“What do you want, Mike? How can I be of service?” Scott teased.
“I wasn’t aware that this was a full service-kind of place, Scotty,” Mike mumbled with barely-disguised frustration. “Quit teasing.”
“Ah, don’t worry. I have every intention of making good on my word.”
Scott held Mike’s hand—if only to reassure him, as his right resumed its task. Mike pinched his eyes shut as he felt Scott’s fingers brush the head of his cock before circling the shaft to establish a rhythm that turned Mike rigid in his arms; his back arcing from Scott’s chest as his hold on his hand tightened.
Scott couldn’t help but wonder what he ever thought could’ve been more rewarding than seeing Mike unravel at the seams because of him; body taut and brow pinched as he struggles to maintain the thread that binds him to this moment. Who could blame him for valuing the carefully-chiseled edge of Mike’s jawline; his upturned nose; the pools of blue in his eyes over any red cent he made on the streets? None of it compared to the act of Mike winding his arm up around the back of Scott’s neck to plead wordlessly for Scott’s lips against his.
Mike kisses Scott like a drowning man longs for air: ravenously and equal-parts breath that dissolves into a whine when he feels Scott’s lips leave his to make their descent down his chin and to his throat. Mike’s body is a transient canvas that Scott is eager to brand during each excursion; marks of territory that remind Mike during moments of doubt when he’s alone that Scott is just as much wrapped around his finger as he is Scott’s.
Scott nips at the flesh of his throat and collarbone, and Mike jolts in his hold—enough to send water sloshing over the side of the tub when he feels Scott’s hand speed up in time with the mewls that pass Mike’s lips.
Mike’s body is a live wire in Scott’s grasp when he catches the sensation wash over him like fire licking at his veins, then all but collapses against Scott—red-faced and shoulders trembling as he chuckles.
“Shoulda known this situation would only get us dirtier, I guess,” Mike rasps out. “Ah, we’d better actually get washed up then, huh?”
Scott lies his chin against Mike’s shoulder and hums thoughtfully, as if debating whether or not the effort of drawing new bath water outweighed luxuriating in the act of holding Mike’s slack body against his own just a while longer.
Minutes ticked on until Scott finally spoke.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Mikey. ‘Cleanliness being next to Godliness’ and all.”
Mike was already asleep; nose buried against Scott’s chest, breathing shallow breaths. “Well, so much for that.”
Scott resigned himself to settling with his arms around Mike’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple before allowing himself to doze off as well.
Just for a little while.
While God has His back turned.