#not doing preggo bc she freaks me out. i love you instababy forever...

[moonshynecybin]

also 35. bathtub fic / 70. locked in a room + 86. i didnt mean to turn you on (or did i...) for rosquez :3

using THREE of these #yayyy... i was going to keep going and write out the full thing but im going to go read my book instead. good night !!!

"I am taking a bath," Marc announces, a few hours after it becomes obvious that help is not coming anytime soon. Four hours trapped in a hotel room in this stupid lodge, snow piling up outside the window, and no one has managed to come and find them. Vale wants his money back. "I have been skiing all day. I want to be clean."

I don't like smelling bad, is a thing he doesn't say. Also probably, I do not want to be in the same room as you anymore.

He doesn't respond. There’s no point, and he doesn't think that he needs to, even though silence has never been an environment in which he thrives, and he’s bored himself nearly to tears trying to ignore Marc for the last few hours, since they gave up trying to figure a way out of this mess. He wishes the TV was working, or the Wi-Fi, something to distract himself, but the storm has made the power flicker and it's all down, the standby icon bouncing around on the screen, useless. It’s a wonder Marc has hot water.

The Ducati people probably think that they've murdered each other, and that's why they aren't at dinner.

The tap in the other room turns off, and steam wafts into the room, pulling him out of his thoughts. Vale turns his head. 

Marc’s left the door open.

He’s naked, strong shoulders just poking above the water, arms resting on the rim of the tub, head tilted back as he sinks in further. His eyes are closed, savoring it, but Vale doubts that he doesn't know what he's doing. Marc always seems to know when Vale has his eyes on him.

He swallows. 

“Marc?”

Marc cracks an eye open. “Yes, Valentino?”

“What are you doing?”

“I am taking a bath.” He says placidly, then closes his eyes again, sinking down a little further and putting his arms into the water, obscuring a little bit more of himself. When he meets the hot water, he hisses, then lets out a long sigh.

Vale can feel the steam on his skin.

He moves without thinking, some base part of him tugging him along, moving him towards the bathroom, and to Marc, shrugging out of his jacket as he goes. Later, he’ll blame it on boredom, on there being nothing to do, but in the moment he knows that’s not true. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he knows why. When he steps inside, he can see more of him. See the shape of his big cock, nestled between his thighs in the water, fattening up as Vale watches. He kneels next to the bath, the smooth glass lake of it, and the tile is hard and cold on his knees.

“I thought you wanted to be clean?” He asks, leaning forward to trail a fingertip along the water, making the picture ripple. Marc’s mouth opens. 

“I do,” He replies, voice oddly quiet. “I was going to wash my hair next."

Vale picks up the bottle of hotel shampoo— it's the expensive stuff. He sniffs it, and it smells like the mountains, piney and vetiver and clean. It's good. If he does this, he'll get to smell it all night, until they unlock the door at check-out the next morning and find the two of them, the picture they make. Marc wafting out through the door and into the halls, away from Vale.

“Do you want some help?” He asks, because he can’t help himself, and the words scrape out of him, hoarse and low. Not at all what he meant to sound like. 

Marc, mouth still open, nods, and starts to tip his head back into the water.