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“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” Slaine asked again, leaning his head back against the lip of the tub to look at the door. It was ajar – he had managed to get Inaho to yield that much today, which he took as a good sign. His throat was getting sore from yelling through the heavy oak every day, and he had to sit completely still and hold his breath to hear the quiet answers, if there were any.
“I’m fine where I am.”
It was the answer he expected, but Slaine sighed anyway as he closed his eyes and slipped down lower into the water. He could hear Inaho on his com, replying to the reports from the other guards in a low voice. His bodyguard was working far too hard – no one would target the second son while the first was still living, especially if he were adopted. He doubted that he would even be ransomed if he was kidnapped.
Only Inaho had to have known too.
Opening his eyes, Slaine tried again, twisting around slightly to see through the crack in the door. “Someone could have gotten in here.”
“This is the only way in or out of the room,” his bodyguard said flatly, “the only window is bulletproof and can’t be opened.”
“And if they were here before us?” he mused, resting his chin on his crossed arms, braced against the edge of the tub.
“You watched me clear the room.”
Slaine chuckled wryly. “Just hand me a towel, Inaho.”
“Yes, my lord.” He watched the brunet step in without hesitation, the almost familiar combination of frustration and confusion at the responsiveness welling up in his chest. He pushed aside the feeling of having lost the unspoken game between them as Inaho stopped by the tub, expression bland as always.
Slaine tipped a smile at the brunet as he sat up and reached for the towel in his bodyguard’s hand, but the little ripple of water that passed the lip of the tub distracted him, a few droplets landing on the pristine black dress pants. Inaho was so close, it would be so easy –
He grabbed hold of Inaho’s wrist, letting his smile turn mischievous at the surprise in the brown eyes before giving the hand a sharp tug. He pulled the unbalanced brunet into the tub with him, mindful of not knocking Inaho’s head against the porcelain as half the water splashed onto the tiles at the clumsy move.
Slaine hummed, pleased with himself. “See, is it so hard to relax with me?” He felt his bodyguard’s fingers brushing against his back, and he loosened his hold to let the brunet brace himself and pull back. The brown eyes searched his face, and he thought he might have seen mild annoyance in them before it changed to amusement.
“Are you propositioning me?” Inaho asked, deadpan, and Slaine felt the smile drop right off his face as he flushed, withdrawing his hands quickly.
“That’s not,” he started shakily, glancing down to avoid his bodyguard’s gaze, but his thoughts stuttered to a stop, refusing to move past the fact that his leg was resting between Inaho’s, bare skin contrasted against the black fabric.
“’That’s not’?” His bodyguard shifted, the water lapping at his skin doing nothing to distract Slaine from the heat seeping through the fabric and only making him acutely aware of the brunet’s knee braced entirely too close behind his thigh. He tore his gaze away to stare at the ceiling, taking in a unsteady breath.
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
There was a beat of silence before Inaho wordlessly climbed out, and Slaine did the best he could to keep his mind blank as he listened to the water drip. He didn’t look until he heard the heavy slap of wet clothing against the floor, his eyes quickly picking up on the discarded lump that was the brunet’s suit jacket, and then he found himself dumbly staring as Inaho started to unbutton the wet shirt that was leaving nothing to the imagination.
“No,“ Slaine cleared his throat, feeling his blush go even darker at the husky quality of his own voice, “Don’t do that.” The brunet tilted his head, the look in the brown eyes more than enough to convey the question. “I’ll get someone to bring a set of clothes, just. Don’t.”
Slaine almost got up before he remembered that he had nothing to cover himself. Looking around, his eyes landed on the towel on the floor, and he snatched it up, turning his back to his bodyguard before tying it securely around his hips. He stood and quickly made for the rack on the wall, pulling one of the spare towels off the rack and wrapping it hastily around his bodyguard. It took every ounce of will he had to not look at the bare slip of skin down the front of the partially open shirt.
Somehow he managed not to key the wrong number into the intercom, and it was a relief to see Harklight’s face appear on the little screen, a slight frown of concern on the man’s face. “How can I be of service, Master Slaine?”
“Could,” he cleared his throat again, glancing down in embarrassment when the furrow between the man’s brows deepened, “Could you send someone up with a spare set of clothes for Inaho?”
“Certainly.” The grey eyes flitted over Slaine’s shoulder, where he supposed Inaho was standing, and he ducked his head again. “Would you be needing anything else?”
“No, that’s all,” he shook his head and hurriedly he mumbled a word of thanks, cutting the call the moment he saw saw Harklight bow out of the corner of his eye.
“Shouldn’t you get dressed?”
Turning around, Slaine took an instinctive step back when he noticed how close they were standing. The short black hair was dripping wet, and he helplessly followed the path of a droplet down the side of Inaho’s neck until it disappeared into the white shirt. He had the irrational urge to trace the faint track back up with his finger.
Slaine swallowed thickly, dragging his gaze up to Inaho’s face. The brown eyes were dark, fixed on Slaine’s own, and there was a look he had never seen in them before. He found himself leaning forward, drawn to them by a fascination he had never known he had, and something about the steady gaze made him cave and reach out, following the line of Inaho’s throat with his fingertip until he could tip the brunet’s chin up.
It surprised him, the deep disappointment he felt when Inaho’s hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled it away, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it before the brunet leaned in and closed the distance between them. Shock kept him still even while his thoughts raced and his pulse picked up, and for a moment he could do nothing as the brown eyes watched him with an amused light.
Snapping out of it, Slaine tentatively began responding, slanting their lips together at a better angle as he closed his eyes. He felt more than heard Inaho put his hand on the wall to his right, the brunet pressing closer to him until Slaine was backed up flush against the tiles. The sharp contrast between the cold tiles and the hot body against his bare skin made him gasp, arching away from the chill, but Inaho’s knee between his legs kept him thoroughly pinned.
The clever tongue slipped into his mouth a second later, making him forget the discomfort and sending Slaine’s hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Blindly he reached out, his fingers finding the drying shirt and curling into it. He felt himself relax even as his pulse thumped loudly in his ears, his breath coming faster even as he sighed into the brunet’s mouth.
The crisp knock against wood startled Slaine into pulling back, head whipping to the side as he panted for breath. The door hadn’t opened, but he was distracted from his relief by the way Inaho was nuzzling against his neck, soft lips ghosting against his skin. “Master Slaine?”
“Leave it outside,” the last word came out clipped at the teasing press of lips behind his ear, and he had to take a moment before he could continue, only now he wasn’t sure who the word was addressed to, “Please.”
There was a pause, and Slaine could almost see the frown on his butler would be wearing. “Is everything alright, Master Slaine?”
“Yes,” he managed to steady his voice by closing his eyes, but he lost the rest of his sentence in a breathless gasp as Inaho kissed a trail from his ear to his jaw. Bringing his hand to bury it in the damp black hair, he tipped his head back to give the brunet better access.
The awkward cough from the other side of the door brought back enough of Slaine’s senses for embarrassment to settle in past the pleasant tingling of his nerves, the heat creeping up his neck having nothing to do with the soft ministrations of his bodyguard. “The young master has a dinner to attend in an hour,” Harklight said haltingly, “I’ll be taking my leave.”
Slaine glanced down as the brunet’s head tilted to look at him, the intense gaze not letting him look away. “It’s more than enough time, Slaine,” Inaho said quietly, voice low, sending a shiver down Slaine’s spine.
Ignoring the flush in his cheeks, he nodded and untangled his fingers from the brunet’s shirt, running his hand down his bodyguard’s arm to wrap it around then thin wrist. He wordlessly placed Inaho’s hand on his hip where the towel was tied before letting go, burying his fingers in the black hair again. “Then show me, Inaho.” He met the brunet halfway this time, closing his eyes as their tongues tangled.
His towel wouldn’t be the last thing to be discarded on the tiles.