Bubbles (FFVII yaoi, Tseng/Rude, Dark #23 Graveyard shift) Title: Bubbles Fandom: FFVII Pairing: Tseng/Rude Theme set and #: Dark theme, #23 Graveyard shift Disclaimer: Don’t own. Rating: PG Summary: Just a quiet morning. Author’s notes: Naur kept on complaining how she misses her bubbles in France. Damn her! :P Warning: This will give you cavities. Word count: 738
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A triangular tub is being filled with water, hot, fuming. The stream is strong and white with bubbles, it cuts the surface then spreads in circular waves.
A small dark glass bottle stands on its rim, closed tightly, waiting to be open and used. A hand picks it up and measures thirteen drops of dark brown liquid that partially dissolves with the waves while the rest falls to the bottom in heavy droplets.
Then the bottle is placed to a shelf, right under one thick orange coloured candle creating soft light that plays a game of shadows on the walls.
It’s dark, too dark even for night in this town, because the shutters cover the windows, hiding the soon to be first morning rays of light.
The same hand that opened the bottle takes another, see through plastic one containing a colourless viscous liquid. He turns it upside down over the water, then squeezes quite an amount, which falls like a dense liquid but spreads like bubbles.
He smiles at his creation, both olfactive and visual, as well as soon to be tactile. He unties the knot holding the sides of his bathrobe together and hangs the silky piece to the hook on the door, then takes a small bowl with white powder and spreads it over the surface, just before he touches it with his toes.
He smiles. It’s hot and, for a moment, uncomfortable being knee deep in it, but his body quickly adjusts and he slowly sits, then dunks his head, wetting the shoulder long hair.
“It’s perfect,” he purrs, loudly enough for the man outside the bathroom to hear. Then that man walks in, naked, tired smile adorning his lips, a pair of shades fogs from the fumes and heat and he puts it on the shelf right next to the dark glass bottle. It makes the man in the tub chuckle. “Get in,” he invites, eyes warm, voice warm, everything warm.
The man does get in, slowly, hissing with discomfort as the heat tingles his skin, but soon it relaxes his muscles in all the right ways so he sighs.
“Tseng, you’ll spoil me rotten,” he says, then moans, relaxing his head on Tseng’s chest, loving the way those long legs wrap around his and those slender yet gun calloused fingers slide down his abdomen.
“I always considered washing my lover’s hair the ultimate sensual experience,” Tseng says and plants a kiss to the heavily pierced earlobe.
Rude chortles. “And you fall for a bald man.” He pushes deeper into Tseng’s body, loving the feeling of restraint and confinement of the small tub definitely not made for two. “If he ever makes me do the graveyard shift again, I’ll jump through the window.”
“Fifty eight stories are not what I’d call a safe endeavour,” Tseng says, amused, then tightens his grip some more, loving the moan it produces. “I stood right beside you too, remember?”
“And I feel your pain,” Rude says then places his arms over Tseng’s, hands over hands. “I’ll fall asleep,” he adds with a heavy yawn.
“I’ll make sure you don’t drown yourself.” Tseng smiles and relaxes his head over the rim, loving all of this too much; the hard but smooth surface, hot water and strong big body pressing his chest. Perhaps, he thinks, that’s what it’s like in the womb, peaceful, comfortable, numb.
He hears the change of breathing of his partner, first deep and slow now shallow. He feels sleep claiming him too, but fights it, loving being awake just a bit too much.
It’s been a long day and a much, much longer night. They’re both drained mentally as well as physically. And bubble baths are soothing, especially with sandalwood and vetivert in both the water and the air.
He takes a deep breath, startles the other just slightly but enough to disturb his self hypnosis.
Rude clears his throat. “I should go while I’m still awake.”
“Stay,” Tseng cuts him off, voice soft.
Rude turns his head just a bit, enough to eye. “You sure?” An eyebrow slides up.
Tseng nods. “I should stop caring about my neighbours more than you.”
“I never asked you…”
“I know,” Tseng interrupts. “Stay.”
“Too tired to complain,” comes the reply, together with a complementary snort.
“Was counting on it,” Tseng adds, voice dreamy and just before a yawn. “Sleep. For real now,” he adds with a smile.