"Yes… wow, yeah, right there," Cherion groaned, practically melting forward as Zarius's large thumb pressed against the perfect spot at the base of his head. "Don't you dare stop. I mean it."
The washroom was small, hazy with thick steam that clung to the dark cedar walls like the room itself was trying to eavesdrop on them.
The warm water was still steaming around them, a comfort that worked its way into Cherion's muscles, easing the deep, heavy ache of being "remade" the night before. He let out a long, shaky breath, his head falling back to rest against Zarius's shoulder.
"Stay still," Zarius rumbled.
It vibrated straight through Cherion's spine while Zarius's hands moved through his hair.
Cherion closed his eyes. "You're suspiciously good at this," he mumbled, half-asleep already. "What, did they make you take royal shampoo training classes or something?"
