#bf!vessel

You narrowed your eyes. "That's what you said about the last one."

"It also smelled nice."

"You're terrible at this," you said, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

"Am I?" He tilted his head to the side and looked down at you.

"Yes." You grabbed another bottle from the display and sprayed it onto a fresh strip. "Try this one."

Again, he leaned down without complaint. His large hand remained occupied with your shopping basket, already overflowing with things you'd picked up throughout the afternoon. A sweater, a candle, three pairs of cute fuzzy socks, a notebook you absolutely didn't need, and whatever else had caught your attention.

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully.

Your eyes widened. "Oh? You have an opinion?"

"This one smells like something you'd wear."

Your heart immediately melted, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned at you.

"I like this one." You turned the glass perfume bottle in your hand, reading the label.

"Found the winner, then?"

A laugh escaped you, and you nodded, gently placing the glass perfume bottle into the shopping basket your boyfriend carried.

Eventually, you wandered away from the perfume displays and toward the makeup section. Vessel followed faithfully, watching closely as you picked up a lipstick, trying to seem more interested.

"What about this color?" You took the cap off the lipstick and held it out to him.

He eyed it for a moment, pretending to inspect the product. "It looks pretty."

"Really?" you asked, staring at him for a long moment before he looked back at you.

"I mean..." His shoulders lifted slightly. "You'll be the one wearing it, so yeah, I think it's pretty."

The butterflies in your stomach were getting ridiculous, and you couldn't fight the cheesy smile that crossed your face before swiftly plucking the lipstick from his hand, putting the cap back on, and tossing it into the shopping basket.

A few minutes later, after testing entirely too many products, you finally settled on a handful of things and headed toward the register. The cashier scanned your items quickly, and when she was done, you unzipped your purse and reached for your wallet, but a hand settled gently over yours.

You looked up. "Vess."

"I've got it."

You didn't even have a chance to argue because he'd already pulled out his card, and while the cashier bagged your items, you stood beside him, trying and failing not to smile.

When everything was bagged, Vessel naturally took them, all of them, including the ones you reached for.

"I can carry something," you protested.

"You are carrying something," he affirmed and reached over with his free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

You squeezed his fingers as his thumb brushed over your knuckles, and Vessel glanced down at you. "Finished shopping?"

You looked toward the rest of the mall, then back at him. "...Maybe."

You hear Vessel faintly calling for you from the bathroom. 

“Darling?”

You push the bathroom door open to find him sitting down in the bathtub with the shower running. Your heart crumples in your chest at the sight of him. Poor thing. It only worsens when he lifts his head, puppy-dog eyes catching yours as if to plead. He looks fucking exhausted.

“Darling, can you help me?” he asks, voice at almost the same volume with the water, lowering for the sake of saving whatever energy he can.

This is when you notice that the washcloth in his hand is stained gray, and that his body paint has low effort scrubbing streaks. 

“Yeah.” You drop down to a squat at the side of the tub, reaching for the washcloth from his hands. 

He snatches it away, low in attempt. “You’ll get the floor wet.” God, he’s nearly whining. You catch a glimpse of a frowned pout on his lips. 

You push yourself, hands on your knees, into a standing position. You begin to slip off your clothes, discarding them into a pile on the floor. A hand slides the shower curtain over even more so than it was open before, like that wasn’t getting the floor wet. 

“Vess, let me help you up,” you tell him gently, offering a hand down for him to take.

And he does. He takes your hand in his, becoming easily engulfed by the size difference of you two. He gets to his feet with a small stumble. Being this wrecked surely was making his head foggy, maybe enough to spin. You slip in, in front of him, closing the curtain behind you.

“That’s it.” You guide his hand to your shoulder, to keep him steady. He keeps the other on the shower wall after handing you the washcloth finally. 

You begin to wash his stomach. The touch is full of love despite the pressure you have to put down to get the paint to come off. 

“Are you really tired, hm?” You ask him, flickering your eyes up for a second to try at meeting his. 

But his eyes are closed, trying to get himself through this from what it seems. “Mhm…” he gets out. It’s muddled and taut. 

Moving upwards his chest, you wash out a spot enough to plant a kiss in, then change to a graze of a bite that was stronger resemblance to your teeth scraping against his skin. He groans out quietly, barely there at all. 

“Can you do that again?” He asks you. You both knew you could never say no to him. 

His stomach and chest have been stripped clean of black, remaining only his shoulders and neck. You apply more soap to these areas since it had run mighty thin from the other scrubbing. Exposing the pale skin of his shoulder under the dark makeup, you take a bite of him. Harder this time. By now, you knew he had a little thing for biting, was a love language to him. Vessel needed it. You feel a shiver shock through him. You land another nip onto his neck where you have to stand on your tiptoes to reach, lurching him down by the smallest hint. 

Vessel’s body slouches against yours, his back hunches over due to the height difference between the both of you. His cheek smooshes into your shoulder and his slickened skin slides along yours to rest his nose in the cranny where your neck and shoulder meet. You feel him huff subhumanly. His arms dangle beside him which almost brush your body. And one of your arms is wrapped around his lower back while the other gently washes at his sides to get rid of any residue paint there. His arms are slow in movement as they come around your back, resting low there, and gently pushing you closer to him. You use your nails just barely on his back, causing a low groan to come from Vessel’s mouth. 

“Fuck…” he drags the word out low, “that feels good.” He’s hushed, almost at a whisper if his voice wasn’t thick on getting those words out. 

Your mind can’t go there, and so, you won’t. You want to take care of him, softly. He deserves it firstly, but secondly, he also needs it. 

Instead, you hum in an agreeing tone. “Yeah?” Your nails go along his back, back and forth laggardly. “That feel good, babe?” You hope he picks up on the smile in your voice.

He grunts and you feel the brush of air on your neck again. You let out a small laugh, dry one. 

“Good,” you say.  

You throw the blackened cloth into the corner of the tub, bringing Vessel close to you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” you tell him. His body sinks further into yours, his weight becoming more of your responsibility than his. His lips press unhurried kisses into this side of your neck and down your shoulder. Retracting back, up, into his normal stance as much as he can bear with his fatigue. 

And you start to move back too. He needed to get into your bed as soon as he could get there. But he stops you. 

“One kiss. Please?” 

His face is brought down to you by your hands cupping his jaw, placing a tender kiss to his lips. They work slowly with yours as he makes another whine. You try to match the noise, licking into his mouth one good time before pulling away fully. 

“So lucky to have you,” you murmur to him.

Vessel looks at you with those same pleading eyes. “Can I have another? Just this one. Please?” 

Your lips catch his for one last kiss, relishing this one, him licking into your mouth this time. Whine.

That’s where you step away and cut off the water. You step out of the tub. You turn to hold your hand out for him to latch onto. And he does. You help him to not slip, his brain was not functioning at all if it was in any shape to work before. The two of you share a towel, not being arsed to use two separate ones. He nudges his head into your hand when you began to towel dry his hair. 

“How about we get you to bed, hmm?” You ask, tossing the towel somewhere into the bathroom. That, along with finding clothes, was a worry for a different time. Later, after Vessel had been taken care of, after he got some sleep.