Lap of Luxury, Part 3

Part III: Change of Pace

Matt loved hot water. He thought there was no more magnificent substance in the world. Not only did it make coffee for breakfast, soup for dinner, and instant noodles for lunch; not only was it about the only thing he could cook without burning it; not only did it wake you up and get you clean in the morning; but it fundamentally changed the whole room wherever it was. It sat so still in the tub after rushing out for so long in such a tumble, and it frosted up the mirrors and made the whole place smell different. It was magical stuff.

The bath was big, but more than that, it was deep. Deep enough to go underwater in. Janice had once taken Matt to a hot springs resort where they had Japanese-style baths; the beds were distinctly uncomfortable, but the baths were great. When he decided he wanted to start taking them regularly, he discovered that the Japanese had a definite advantage over the domestic model: a standard bathtub not only doesn’t ever cover you all but starts draining automatically the minute the water rises above a certain level. And American bathwater never got quite hot enough.

But this one was perfect. It wasn’t quite a jacuzzi, but it was big enough for two, and the water was hot enough that when Matt stepped inside, he actually had to jump back for fear his skin would come off. That meant that in a few minutes it would be the ideal temperature.

The water stopped rippling and faded to stillness, and intrigued by the concept, Matt touched the surface with one hand and drew it back. The water rippled outward into circles, lapped against the sides of the tub, and became still again. How appropriate that seemed for tonight, he thought. The small insertion of two lives into his own, Mohinder and Molly, and slowly, everything was displaced, everything changed. Their impact on him had been small at first, then growing larger and larger until it eclipsed everything else. But the more important they became in his life, the more at peace he was, until now all was still and perfect again. Even though everything had changed.

He got into the tub, felt the hotness against his shins, wrinkled his face but determined to brave it. When he sat down, his back began to itch wildly, and he swore and leaned back against the side of the tub. But as soon as the shock of the hotness wore off, Matt felt all his muscles separate from his bones, fibers growing soft and loose beneath the warm, all-enveloping massage of the bath. He leaned his head back and groaned happily. Hot water was absolute magic.

Around him, the steam-coated mirrors reflected if not the shape than the color of his body against the creamy porcelain of the tub’s sides. Pillows of white towels were stacked up in a wicker cabinet beside the sink, which was marble and steamed-up silver and had a deep, sloping curve on the interior. There was something so impeccable about the little bottles and soaps in miniature, all lined up in perfect order like a small church choir behind the cathedral of the sink. Bathrooms like this seemed to need another name besides “bathroom.” They were too pretty, too organized to just be a place where you went when your stomach acted up or when you were dirty. Matt thought he could probably hold dinner parties in a bathroom this nice.

There was still something wrong with the picture, however, namely that he was still alone in it. “Honey?” he called out. “You coming?”

“In a minute!” came the muffled voice from behind the door. Matt smiled. Poor Mohinder had probably taken it upon himself to mop up the champagne that had spilled on the floor. That was just the kind of man he was. He closed his eyes and soaked up the relaxation, retreating deep within himself.

It wasn’t the sound of Mohinder’s entrance that alerted Matt to his presence. It was a smell, one that wafted slowly over the surface of the tub and became strong enough that he was no longer able to believe he was just imagining it. His eyes opened slowly, and he inhaled, trying to identify it. It smelled like vanilla and almond and a hint of jasmine, and it was heady.

Then he saw the tiny lights sparkling around him and realized a half-dozen small scented candles had been lit and placed in a semicircle around the foot of the bath. They twinkled against the gently reflecting tile like a group of carolers outside a window, just bright enough to be noticed.

And Mohinder was sitting on the edge of the tub, watching him, a small white washcloth in his hands. Matt’s eyes raked over his body admiringly, then met his gaze, and they both smiled a little wider.

“How’s the water, love?” Mohinder said gently.

“Great,” Matt groaned. He gestured toward the candles. “This is beautiful. Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure.” The lean brown body stepped over the edge of the tub, shivered. “Hot,” he said, sliding down as though he was melting right into the water. Mohinder was the color of mocha ice cream and Matt wanted to drink him in the morning to wake up and eat him at midnight as a treat. The sounds of relaxation he made, the ahhs and the mms, were better than whipped cream.

Long, wet, skinny arms fluttered over his chest and settled there. Matt stretched out an arm and drew him closer, kissing the top of the matted, fuzzy head. “Nice, huh?” he whispered into the curls.

“Mm-hm,” Mohinder murmured, his head curling onto Matt’s shoulder. “You’re so comfortable.”

“Told you the spare tire had benefits,” Matt grinned. But he fell silent then. It was almost a sin to talk too much here, in this beautiful, perfect pool of tranquility. He was perfectly happy to just feel the heat and steam on his skin, inhale the scents of jasmine and vanilla, and hold the one he loved in his arms. Who would have thought that such perfect happiness could be his? He said a small prayer of thanks to whoever was Up There.

After a while, Mohinder shifted on him so that his arms were folded over Matt’s chest, chin planted between his elbows, grinning up at him. “Are you clean?” he asked.

Matt stared down at him. The turn of the brow, the flash of teeth– it was a challenge. “Um, I don’t know, doc, you going to inspect me?”

“If you need me to.” The eyes slid to the side. “I also bought something you might be interested in.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Raising himself out of the tub slightly, Mohinder leaned over, reaching onto the floor behind the rim. Matt smiled lazily and proceeded to adore watching his body drip from everywhere. He wanted Mohinder constantly dripping wet and naked so he could see the clusters of drops cling to his body. He wanted to be the water so he could cling so closely to him. Wouldn’t it be nice to be the bathwater Mohinder was in, touching every inch of his skin all at once? And the way his arms were taut, supporting his weight– Matt was right back in the land of lust. His grin spread wider.

Mohinder had his hand around something round and pink. Matt sort of dreaded what it could be; he was pretty much horrified every time Mohinder had something pink in his vicinity. Not that his pink shirts didn’t look gorgeous on him, because a paper sack would look gorgeous on him, because this was Mohinder after all, but he did find the fascination with pink sort of appalling. As relaxed as he was right now, though, he was not likely to raise a huge fuss. He simply gave Mohinder a quizzical look and leaned back.

The object splashed down into the water, and a small tornado of pink began to churn where it had come out, tinting the water. The jasmine scent from the candles was suddenly amplified, and were other scents, too, that Matt couldn’t identify even though he had grown so familiar with the incense Mohinder liked to burn. A small jet of carbonation was bubbling near his feet.

“It’s the most popular product in the store, apparently,” Mohinder said, washing off his hands in the water and settling back down against Matt, one hand idly rubbing his thigh. Smirking, he whispered as if in great confidence, “It’s called the Sex Bomb.”

“You don’t say,” Matt grinned. The whole bathtub was tinting pink now, and the perfumes were strong. He felt slightly drunk. Perhaps that was the champagne from earlier, though. “They’re wrong, though.”

“How’s that?” Mohinder’s hand was riding up his thigh now, fingertips on the edge of his scrotum. When he felt how hard Matt was, he made a little noise in his throat, his eyebrows shooting up to heaven.

“There is a sex bomb in this bath,” Matt said, drawing Mohinder’s face close, “but that’s not it.” He drew a long kiss from the damp lips, inhaling deeply.

“Flatterer.” But Mohinder’s smile was pleased, and now he was running his fingers over Matt’s erection freely. Matt growled a little and shifted his position to open himself up to Mohinder’s touch.

“Sorry, what?” he groaned. “You don’t believe me, you who has been walking around here naked and covered in champagne and lighting candles and buying Sex Bombs and whatever, you think I’m flattering you? Mr. I Booked A Room at the Plaza for My Boyfriend Cause He Mentioned it Once? Shut up. You are sex, Mohinder. Just absolute liquid sex. So would you just be quiet and keep doing that?” At that, his tongue stopped working and he just lay back and closed his eyes, breathing in scented air and thrusting his hips upward into every stroke of Mohinder’s hand.

Mohinder felt his heart leap, and he lowered his lips to Matt’s chest, kissing across and past each nipple in turn, his hand slowly pumping Matt’s erection. Matt’s chest was like the curve of the earth, so very big, so much ground to cover. It was wanderlust as well as just plain lust that drove him to nibble in patterns across it, sinking teeth gently into shoulder blade, finding the ticklish spots on his sides and writing love letters with the point of his tongue in each. Matt’s skin was soft from the bath, but his muscles were hard beneath the skin, and it filled Mohinder with adoration. This strong, warm, protective man was his. He felt safe with him. Even when he was naked and vulnerable, he could trust this man to do no wrong.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t take it to the edge, though. Matt was remarkably playful sexually; he loved to try things with scarves and handcuffs and blindfolds and oils and food and even some toys. There was almost no game he wouldn’t play. His imagination, Mohinder had discovered, was randy and active. Getting involved with Matt was absolutely the best thing Mohinder had ever done for his sex life. He was guaranteed a lifetime of new thrills.

But never, even during power-play games, did his eyes ever lose the core of tenderness that made it lovemaking instead of just fucking. The heart was always just as involved as the mind and the body. It was a balance Mohinder had never had before, and what got him every time was how unbelievably sexy– no, dirtier than sexy, HORNY– it made him feel. Sex with love was simpering, boring, easy-to-tire-of sex, right? Wrong. So very, very wrong.

Never letting up the rhythm, Mohinder pulled himself up to kiss Matt’s mouth, tracing the outline of his lips with his tongue and skimming once over his teeth. Matt hummed for an extended moment and then let his neck open to Mohinder’s small, delicate kisses, breathing wheezily thrugh his nose and stopping to gasp whenever Mohinder changed styles or places. Mohinder loosened his grip on Matt to whirl his fingers in a churning circle through the water around his cock, the water creating a subtle suction around him and making him shiver. Mohinder moved over him, sat on his thighs to get a better angle, kissed a semicircle around his collarbone. Matt’s hips rocked beneath him. “Jesus–” he swore. “Do something to me, anything, Mohinder–”

A small bar of soap lay unopened, wrapped in paper, by the tub’s edge. Mohinder took it, fumbled with it, finally tore into the paper with his teeth, grunting in frustration. Wetting the soap briefly in the water, he rubbed his hands with it, creating a thick lather, then put both his hands around Matt’s erection, making him jump and shout. The cry echoed in the small room. Alternating hands, Mohinder worked his way from base to tip like a relay, one hand starting as the other finished with a flourish of fingers around the head of his cock. Matt thrashed his head from side to side almost violently, his groans and grunts almost Neanderthal they were so shameless. His mouth curved around a curse word that never found voice.

Then, abruptly, his face changed, and he pulled Mohinder’s face to his, kissing him tenderly. There was so much emotion in that kiss that Mohinder feared he’d done something wrong. “If I tell you something,” he said, “will you promise not to run away?”

Mohinder’s hands went slack, and he nodded dumbly. Oh, God, had he embarrassed himself?

Matt lifted a bath-wrinkled hand to his face. “What you’re doing feels wonderful,” he said seriously, “but I’m not going to come like this.”

All of the breath left Mohinder’s body. He was freezing in the hot water all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” he said. Inside, he was kicking himself, quite literally – picturing a little Mohinder kicking another little Mohinder like a beanbag down the road.

“No, no, listen,” Matt said soothingly, grasping Mohinder around the waist with one hand, running the other hand through his hair. “Listen to me. I don’t want you to stop. I like it. I just… I don’t need to come right now. And quite frankly, water? Dries you out. As weird as that sounds.”

“So… what should I do?” He felt like a child now, a petty child who’d pretended to play with the big boys until he’d been discovered.

“Whatever you want. I’d like to think you like touching me. You could do that. Or, you know, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just…” He looked down, cleared his throat, tried to find the words. “I just want to enjoy you. Without it going somewhere. Without needing something that we both have to work really hard for. Just a change of pace, that’s all.”

Mohinder laughed ruefully. “That was the point of tonight, I suppose.”

“Exactly.” Matt kissed the tip of his nose, and without thinking, without even knowing what he was doing, Mohinder put both of his hands on Matt’s chest and kissed him passionately, a full, open, sweet kiss that went on forever. When he regained his senses, he was pumping Matt’s cock again, but gently, not insistently, feathering his fingers over his sac, and Matt was kissing his neck and whimpering into him, his skin everywhere, his touch everywhere, warm water cooling quickly, steam clearing from the mirrors. And Matt was palming him too, just slightly, enough to make him hard, but not enough to drive him crazy. It was Matt’s way of helping him understand, This is pleasure, it’s just feeling good, it’s not a race or a competition or anything with a finish line. It’s me and you and how good we feel together.

I love you, Matt was whispering into his mind. I love you and this is so sweet.

I love you, too, Mohinder whispered back. Thank you for showing me this.

They remained there, kissing and touching and just being, until the water was tepid enough that Mohinder shivered. Matt growled and sucked on his lower lip, tightening his arms about him. “We should get you out of this bath before we both freeze,” he said. “Besides, it’s late.”

“Using the royal ‘we’ now, are you?” Mohinder smirked. He reached forward to pull the plug out of the tub, and the water began to drain; the bath bomb had left pink stains on the tiles. “Oh, God, please don’t let them send us the cleaning bill,” he muttered, eyes shooting skyward.

Matt laughed. “C’mon, out you go.” He swatted Mohinder’s behind playfully, making him jump, and they both got to their feet. First fuzzy white towels, then fluffy bathrobes, warmed their skin as it dried. Matt brushed his teeth, and as he straightened up, Mohinder burst out laughing.

“What? What?” He turned back to the mirror to see if he had something on his face.

“The bathrobe…” Mohinder was laughing so hard, he had to sit down on the closed toilet seat to avoid losing his balance and cracking his head on the floor.

“What about it?” Then his eyes caught a glimpse of Mohinder’s robe. Just inside the corner, where the lapel would have been on a suit, he saw a hint of gold lettering.

His.

He flew to the mirror. It wasn’t hard to distinguish the lettering on his own bathrobe: Hers.

“Oh, my God…” Weeping with laughter, Matt walked over to where Mohinder was sitting and pulled him close, leaning over to drown his giggles in his hair. “Well, it’s talking about Molly. I’m definitely hers,” he stammered between bouts of laughter. “Oh, that’s too good. That’s too funny.”

They grinned at each other, and Mohinder felt a twinge in his heart that quite separate from the stitches in his side. They had so much fun. Always. Even when things weren’t perfect, there was always something new to laugh about, to discuss, to discover. Had they ever not been partners in life, walking forward into the unknown together? Mohinder couldn’t remember that time. It was like a previous life.

“Give me two seconds,” he said, kissing Matt quickly and ducking behind the bathroom door. “I just want to set something up.” As he swept into the now-dark bedroom, he picked something up off the floor and tossed it in Matt’s direction. It fluttered to the floor as the door clicked shut, and Matt bent to pick it up. It was red. Heart-shaped. Soft. Fragrant.

A rose petal.

And then, music started to play.