Elian hesitated before obeying, resting the back of his head against the rim of the bath, shutting his eyes.
He could not afford to stare into Lucien's green eyes at that moment; he might be forced to ask for something forbidden.
Lucien saw Elian's closed eyes and knitted his brows very slightly. From his view above, Elian looked ethereal: his jaw defined and delicate, lush lashes resting beautifully against his flushed cheek, and those red lips couldn't look anymore inviting.
He blinked, dipped a small silver cup into the warm water, and slowly poured it over Elian's curls. Water slid through the soft brown strands, darkening them instantly.
His fingers threaded into Elian's damp hair carefully, working the scented soap through the curls with slow movements.
Elian nearly sighed at the feeling. Lucien's large hands moved against his scalp with surprising patience, massaging gently as warm water dripped down the sides of his neck.
