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Summary
“How banal. Is there no conundrum to stimulate my brain?”
The man he’s sharing a bath with smiles at his lamentation, throughly amused by his commentary. Aventurine leans back against the bathtub, the tips of his hair getting wet. “Professor, the bath salt is almost past its efficient period. Might I ask what type you wish to use next?”
He props up one of his legs, stretching the other now covered with rose petals, to rub his foot along the side of Ratio’s chest, down to his waist and then swiftly up and down his thigh.
“Not bad,” Ratio says, chuckling. “You brought up a question worthy of thinking about.”
“Hm? Need further incentive, Professor?” Aventurine teases. “I can be plenty stimulating.”
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or, Ratio’s very intellectually stimulating dream.