#maere

Maere steps onto the tiled floor edging the bath itself, sleek and shiny. She looks down and sees her own reflection peering up at her, wide eyed. Julian’s knuckles brush her arm as he takes in the beauty of the room, turning his head this way and that in awe. 

“I could get used to this,” he comments, fixing his excited gaze on Maere. “Come on, I’m ready to relax for a bit.”

Maere smiles, reaching behind her head to untie her mask and place it on a bench near her. She stretches her arms up to take Julian’s mask off as well, setting it next to hers. Julian sighs and nuzzles into her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment in contentment. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, lips brushing against her palm as he speaks. Long arms come to grasp Maere’s shoulders, anchoring her to him as he leans forward and presses their bodies together. Maere strokes her hands up his sides, keeping him close. 

Suddenly Julian pushes away, cheeks pink, and takes his hands back, eyes darting around awkwardly. “It’s, uh, it’s hot in here, isn’t it?” It is, Maere thinks. There’s plenty of steam rising from the bath, making the air heavy and damp. She already feels her gown starting to cling to her body. 

She lets out a soft laugh, reaching up to loosen Julian’s collar. Her fingers tug at the red cravat around his neck and he focuses his attention back on her. His own hands come up to cover hers, holding them to his chest. A tender look falls over his face, so intense and sincere that Maere almost finds it hard to hold his gaze. 

Julian speaks softly. “If you told me before that I could be here with you…” He shakes his head slightly, hands leaving Maere’s to brush over the material on her shoulders. Maere’s breath catches in her throat. She isn’t nervous, really; she enjoys his touch far too much for that. But the emotion on his face, in the way his fingers push her gown down her arms reverently? That is something she isn’t used to. To be so loved and adored… She nearly trembles at the ferocious swell of affection that blooms in her chest toward him.

Unclasping her gown from the back, Maere helps Julian slide the silky fabric off her body entirely. It pools on the floor around her ankles, a shimmery pink puddle. She wastes no time in unbuttoning Julian’s own costume, slipping the feathery coat down his arms and tugging the cravat loose. He lets her do all the work, gray eyes lidded and heavy as they take in the sight of her. His desire is plainly evident on his face, and his breath catches in his chest as her fingertips lightly trace a path down from his collarbone to his hipbone, to make quick work of his trousers and boots. 

With one hand Julian catches Maere’s arm, stopping her from touching him. With the other he reaches behind her, stretching to grab two sheer silk robes from the wall. Maere smiles her thanks and slips the light fabric around her shoulders, tying it at the waist. 

“Ahh, now this is the life, isn’t it?” Julian sighs. He looks divine, the robe draped casually over his shoulders and leaving the wide expanse of his chest and neck bare. Maere resists the urge to reach out and kiss him, to trail her fingers down his abdomen and feel his soft skin, speckled with dark hair from chest to hips. “You can’t get luxury like this on a pirate ship.” He turns his back to her, stretching his long limbs delightfully - Maere gathers her self control and simply watches - and beginning to poke around the colorful glass bottles and jars, set on a copper tray on the edge of the bath. He plucks one up and pops the cork off, sniffing its contents curiously. 

With an excited grin, Julian glances up at Maere. “This… I’d know this salty tang anywhere,” he says. “Premium bath salts, fresh from Nevivon! Ah, what a nostalgic smell.” He studies the jar fondly for a moment, then turns it over above the water and shakes out a generous amount. After a quick investigation of the other jars, Julian seems satisfied with his bath concoction and slides over the edge into the water. Blue steam rolls up his shoulders, shrouding him in a lovely glow and the sweet scent of the sea. With a coy smirk over his shoulder, he beckons her. “Come on in, Maere, the water’s fine,” he purrs. 

Maere nearly trips over herself in her haste to join Julian in the bath. He scoots over, making room for her to sit next to him as she lowers herself into the warm water. It’s immediately relaxing and she can’t hold in a groan as she stretches her legs out, letting them bob and float in front of her. 

“Can’t remember the last time I had a bath this nice,” he says. Tentatively he reaches out, brushing his fingertips on my shoulder. “And it’s been even longer since I had one with such good company.”

Maere pulls his outstretched hand to her lips, pressing a soft smiling kiss to the palm. She peers into his eyes, which are wide and fixated on her. 

“I-“ He cuts himself off, flexing his fingers against her cheek. “Is the water okay? Do you need anything?”

Maere recognizes the look on Julian’s face. He wants to please her, wants to do anything he can to make sure she’s happy and taken care of. An endearing trait, sure, but right now she has other ideas. 

“Let me take care of you,” she whispers against his skin, kissing each of his fingertips individually and then moving further up. 

Julian seems too stunned to speak. “I, uh… What?” he stammers. He can’t tear his eyes away from the lips currently brushing against the pulse point at his wrist, can’t hide how his hands are suddenly trembling. A lovely pink blush creeps all the way from his shoulders to his cheekbones. “I-I’m fine, really, I-“

With one finger against his mouth, Maere silences him. “You deserve to be cared for, too,” she murmurs, releasing his arm to focus her full attention on looking into his eyes. They dilate, flicking over her face anxiously. Maere slides closer, so her side is pressed fully against his and she has to crane her neck back to see him. 

Julian swallows thickly. “Well, alright, but-“ 

He is cut off with a kiss, slow and sensual and soft. At first he tries to say something else, Maere can feel him tense and pull back slightly, but just as well he relaxes and leans into her. His long arms curve around her back, pulling her torso flush to his. After a moment Maere breaks contact, turning her head to sort through the bottles behind her. She finds one, a sandalwood scented perfume, and grabs it. 

“Come here,” she says, gesturing to the space between her legs in the water, “I’ll wash your hair.” Julian surges forward eagerly, splashing water over the edge of the bath and up the front of Maere’s robe. She laughs at him as he settles his back against her thighs, armpits hooking over them to keep himself supported. With a gentle push Maere guides him lower into the water, until his head is resting against her navel, and laces her fingers through his curly hair. The moan he lets out as she strokes his scalp is positively sinful and reverberates through her core, but she stays quiet, working on lathering the shampoo beneath her hands. 

“is this okay?” he asks suddenly. “Should I move? Am I resting on you too hard?”

Maere shakes her head, even though he can’t see it. “You’re doing amazing, Julian,” she assures. “I mean it.”

He’s taken aback. “Am I?” His shoulders relax a bit more into the water, finally letting go of all the tension he’d been holding. “I, uh, okay then.”

Maere works for a while, gentle fingers lathering and smoothing and massaging until Julian is a puddle against her, and then she rinses him clean. He still feels unsure, his aura more reserved and self-conscious than usual, but at least he’s allowing himself to be doted on for a while. It’s obviously not something he’s used to, though he enjoys it. Praise, she supposes, isn’t a luxury he was ever afforded while growing up, and even now. Once Julian’s hair is rinsed of shampoo, Maere’s hands travel down his neck, firm touches soothing muscles she’s sure have been tight for a long, long time. He groans again, head lolling forward to allow her better access.

“You’ve been working so hard, Julian. You should relax, too.”

His shoulders rise with a sharp intake of breath. “It never feels like enough,” he mutters, fingers finding Maere’s ankles in the water and gripping them. She pulls her hands away from his body, reaching out for one of the red flowers drifting by on the surface and tucking it behind his ear. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to the side of his neck, where her fingers just were. She feels his body tense, feels his pulse hammering beneath her lips. 

“It’s enough,” she whispers, trying to convey every ounce of assurance and affection she feels through her voice. 

Julian’s hands clench around her ankles. “Maere…” He turns around to face her, suddenly knelt between her thighs, wet skin illuminated in the moonlight and steam swirling around his eager face, and Maere’s heart skips a beat. He is so beautiful, so vulnerable, she thinks, as she reaches out to trace a droplet of water down his shoulder.