ｃｈｒｙｓｓｉｅ

ｂａｔｈ

For the first time in a long time, Grayson was perfectly content.

There was nothing more to long for - he had everything that he had ever desired. It wasn't really saying much, considering that his desire was mostly limited to his flower, but taking into account how hard she had been to attain, he felt as though he had climbed fucking Mount Everest.

"If you don't mind, could you make the bath a little hotter, Gray? The night air is getting in from somewhere," Chryssie mumbled, lifting her head up for a moment from where it had been tucked neatly between his shoulder and neck.

He kissed the top of her head, smelling the delightfulness of his own cologne mixed with clean-smelling shampoo. "Of course, love."

As he leaned over, disturbing her position, she leaned back against the side of the bath and covered her chest with her hands. Her eyes followed his fluid movements, and he found himself brushing a bubble away from her nose, pulling her hands up to his face. They felt so nice against his cheeks, fingers resting on his nose.

(The view was nice, too, but she sunk under the thick film of bubbles to hide.)

"You're so beautiful," he remarked, leaning forward and pressing a thumb against her cheek, relinquishing her hands back to her. "Why do you cover yourself up like that?"

"Modesty," she replied simply, repositioning one of the pins in her hair. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. You're... godlike."

He snorted with laughter, reaching for the champagne that was sitting precariously on the ledge of the tub. "Godlike? Wouldn't you think that's a bit of an overstatement?"

She giggled, her lips tugging upwards into a smile. "Of course it's not an overstatement. You're lovely, Gray."

The simple words affected him strongly, and he didn't quite know why. After all, no one had ever told him he was unattractive. He knew that he was good looking - he supposed that was what happened when your parents were beautiful. His looks had never really mattered much to him, though. If anything, they were a manipulation tactic.

Everyone wanted to trust a pretty boy.

"Grayson? Is there something wrong? You look a bit dreamy."

"Nothing wrong, I'm just thinking about what a ravishing sight you are."

Another one of those smiles graced her features, and he loved it. Those sorts of smiles hadn't started to show up for him until recently, and he had began to wonder how he had ever survived without them.

"You aren't too bad yourself, birthday boy."

"It's technically not my birthday anymore. It's past midnight."

She sat up on her knees, looping her arms around his neck. "We can still pretend it's your birthday, at least until we go to sleep."

"Definitely," he mumbled, nearly dropping his champagne glass into the bath as she pressed herself against him. He liked the feel of her - the way her body's curves fit perfectly against him. It was like they were made for each other.

Which they were. It was only fate.

"We should get out now. My skin is starting to prune up," she told him after a moment, reaching for a towel and then wrapping it around her perfect figure as she stood up. "God, my legs are so sore."