Work Text:
His skin was vanilla-flavoured, Peter discovered running his hands and mouth through this perfect, well-maintained vessel. He was nutritious enough to feed Peter's senses with overwhelming sensations. A small lamb sacrificed for his pure pleasure, now lying perfectly tensed up while waiting for the next step. Peter stroked his face and stopped his hand right before his cheek. He leaned down to bite his lips. He rubbed his cheek and accidentally brushed his eyelashes when he was caressing the flushed place beneath grey eye.
Elias gasped, tightening his muscles. Peter slid one hand into his shirt from the bottom. He careened down and his nose sniffed fresh sweat and that damn bubble bath.
Elias smelled like vanilla.
Peter bought him that bath set for Christmas three years, or 7 divorces, ago. He had initially thrown it out into the bin, then got scolded by Peter, who spent less money on it than he'd admitted. He was oblivious to the Beholding and got yelled at due to his cruel lie. Elias simply got rid of it because it was cheap to him. Obviously, he wouldn't buy it himself (it would be pricey then); however, his dear Peter could, at least, manage to order him the same perfume he bought for him for every event.
**
He begged Peter to stay. He didn't find any joy in spending Christmas alone. But Peter did it. He. Left. Him.
Elias overslept all. He didn't want to get up to confront the bitter reality.
The mattress sagged when he sat on the edge of the bed. Elias hadn't eaten well so he was as limp as a porcelain doll. Peter embraced his weak vessel and fed him with a spoon. After this performance of care, they drifted to sleep under the duvet. Elias had a fever.
Peter was broken-hearted. He took the bath set out of the bin and put it back on the shelf in the bathroom. It kept getting dusty until Elias was bored with his fragrances and tried using something different. And Peter loved vanilla.
"You smell so good in vanilla."
"Oh, you think so?"