He wasn’t a masseuse, that he knew, but he learned and picked up on what seemed to work the best, and what caught a reaction out of her. He was precarious in the gentle ministrations, working along her neck and shoulders, slowly down her back. A part of him realized that under his hands- though he could not see it- were three pearled scars, scars that even now she did not trust him to see…
Pushing that thought out of his mind, now was not the time to focus on what was- her birthday, her time. As he finished, low on her back, Montague leaned in, lips brushing skin before they moved, he helping her out of the bath, pulling a towel out to wrap around her, before pulling one for himself.
He was proud to see that his transfiguration was still in place, the room glinting in the fairy lights. He was just turning to her himself, when she reached up to kiss him; his hands moving to her waist, pulling her that fraction closer, mouth slipping against hers. With a gentle caressing stroke, Montague curved his body in, trying to pull the lower halves together, while keeping contact with her mouth.
His tongue slid against her bottom lip, and slowly he sucked on the swollen rim, moving one hand around her back to rest precariously on her arse. Taking a deep breath, Montague pulled away, a smirk forming on his features. “Shall we go to bed?” He asked huskily, already starting to guide her towards the sprawling sheets.