Nicky kind of wishes that he didn't open this door. Because Shane's back is curved like a carved sculpture, his arms straightened and pushing himself up, pelvis glued to the floor, eyes closed. Divine, like an art piece displayed at the most pretentious of museums. The tight t-shirt and gym shorts didn't help either, teasing him with a view of muscles that were growing by the day.
Shane opens his eyes and looks up when Nicky clears his throat. Nicky smiles at him. Gets a sweet one back that has never failed to make him feel warm and fuzzy, even after almost twenty years together.
"Heya," Nicky closes the door and settles down on the couch behind his husband, "doing yoga?"
"Yeah, just prepping." Shane closes his eyes again and moves like water. He brings his bottom up, back still perfectly curved, arm stretched out in front and face down on the floor, and this is a delicious torture to watch. Nicky swallows hard.
He tries to stay quiet and let Shane focus. Shane always got mad at him when he distracted his stage preps, whether that was a skipping rope session or a yoga session. He didn't get why - Shane would still probably sound like he devoured the CD with just a few vocal warmups. And when they used to share the stage years ago, a quickie backstage seemed like more than enough prep for the both of them.
He had started to take it a lot more seriously from his first solo tour, and now, four years later, three tours in, Nicky couldn't be prouder of how far he's come. Of how hard he works every day.
But when his favourite person is looking that beautiful in delicate yoga poses, it's hard to not kiss him and want him. He had to find something else to do rather than drool at this tantalising view. He looks around the dressing room and smirks when he notices the music in the background.
"You seriously listening to my album during yoga?"
"Nicky, I'm trying to focus. Shut up." Shane still has his eyes closed. In the zone, only if the blabbermouth knew what silence meant.
"Right. Sorry," Nicky murmurs and purses his lips together for a bit. Listens as the song changes over to Still the One.
He remembers writing that on a warm morning in their backyard. Remembers the fresh smell of the early shine that cleansed his mind. A pen twirling in between his fingers. Shane snuggled up to his side with sleep-clumsy eyes trying to wake up and adjust to the sunlight, breathing softly against his shoulder, and Nicky knew in a heartbeat that he was more in love than he had ever been, that his entire world was held in those palpable breaths.
"Are you writing about me?" Shane had asked, eyes still half-closed and lost at a distance, his voice husky in the early hours. Nicky had just replied with a kiss to his forehead, had seen lips curve through an easy giggle.
Nicky smiles to himself as the music streams through his veins and hugs his heart.
"Why are you listening to my album?"
"I like your voice," Shane ambles up and brings his arms up with a calm exhale. Nicky tries not to stare and admire. Fails horribly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Of course I do. Now shush." Shane's zen yoga voice starts to change, a bit more edge to it with the distractions, and Nicky has to hold back a laugh.
Nicky watches in silence. Watches Shane take a few deep breaths through stretches, but then Shane kneels back down and is on all fours again, the smooth arc of his back making him gulp, and Jesus Christ, this had to be some sort of trap.
A trap that Nicky would step into in half a heartbeat. A trap that seems like the perfect timing for a bit of fun. He just wants to see the man's reaction. It's all innocent. Very innocent.
