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Spencer running himself a nice warm bath, watching the water run basking in the calm and taking off his clothes slowly, stepping in carefully. almost dainty in a way. Sinking down slowly into the water, arms on sides bracing him as he goes slow, slipping down in. Leaning back in the tub, eyes closed and head resting on the edge all blissful and sweet taking the chance to really wind down, be in the moment. The way the water reflects light, the way his skin glistens, the way it emphasises his tattoos. He’s just so soft and quiet. Beautiful. Washing his hair, really massaging the shampoo in because it feels so nice, feels so calming. Closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling just all sweet. Slowly moving further down to not let the water spill out and dipping his hair in, swishing and scrunching his hair to get all the shampoo out. When he pops back up his hair is flat and wet, clinging to his neck, his back, little tendrils clinging to his temples.
Turning the tap on, holding his hand under it but it comes out cold and spooks him, flinching away from the tap and making some cute little startled noise. Fiddling with the hot water tap until it's all nice, using a fruity little cleanser for his face. his eyelashes clinging together in little spikes, eyebrows dark and wet, looks so pretty. Just sitting and watching the water move, lathering himself up, moving his limbs around slowly. So peaceful and open.
Raking conditioner through his long hair, lying back again and closing his eyes, maybe humming something softly. You could see all of him like this, completely open and tranquil. Moving his hands over his body, his chest his torso, his stomach. All sudsy. Hands splayed out over himself, how big they are compared to his willowy frame. His stomach all soapy. Wet little happy trail. Wet, inviting thighs. Glistening tattoos. The water laps gently against the sides of the tub, soft ripples fanning out with each slow movement he makes. Spencer shifts a little, stretching one leg out, toes flexing beneath the surface, sending soft swirls of bubbles around his shin. His skin glowing in the soft light from the open window and twirling oranges in the evening sky, fair and warm where it’s dry, slick and gleaming where the water clings. Runs a hand slowly over his knee, fingers catching suds and dragging them gently across his thigh like he's playing with them. watching curiously how they float on his skin.
His breathing is deep and slow, feeling the world grow quiet, stretch out so far away from his own little planet, his own atmosphere. Feeling all the stress melt away, every muscle in his body at rest, hearing the sound of his breathing so far away. His lashes flutter just a bit as he opens his eyes softly, lidded dazed and dreamy like he’s forgotten where he is for a second. There’s a whisper of a smile in the corner of his mouth, just barely there. A thought or two twirling gently in his mind, sweet and calm. Lets his head loll to the side, cheek resting against the cool porcelain edge of the tub. Focusing on the feeling, the texture or lack thereof, the coolness. One arm drapes lazily over the side, fingertips dripping water onto the bathmat below it, leaving little droplets in the patterns of his lazy movements. His fingers twitch, tracing nothing in the air. The kind of absentminded movement you see when a cat is relaxed and flexing its paws just for a moment.
After a while of just laying like this he scoots up a small bit, reaching for the soap, dragging it gently over his shoulder, down his arm, across his collarbone. He does it slowly, almost reverently, like he’s savoring his own touch, being clean. The warm water, the glide of lather, the way it makes everything feel muted and fresh and him a little bit weightless.
A soft sigh leaves him, barely audible over the gentle drip of the faucet, followed by a quiet hum that escapes his lips again, the same tune as before, just a few notes, muscle memory. Soothing himself. He sinks back deeper into the bath, knees rising up slightly, arms reaching loosely around them, hands clasped. He rests his chin there for a moment, eyes watching the reflection of water ripples on the ceiling, wiggling himself a little and smiling watching the way the light moves. Giggling to himself as he's wiggling around in the water.
So beautiful. So bare. So unguarded. Like the water and the warmth and being kind to himself have peeled everything else away. Just Spencer. warm, soft, and safe in his own little universe.