Beckett frowned. “I don’t mind if you want to go around complimenting me.”
“In that case, I love your eyes. They’re so pretty.”
Beautiful. Pretty.
Him.
“Uh. Thanks.”
Arden nodded and flipped his sketchbook open. He riffled through the pages, stopped at a blank one—presumably, Beckett couldn’t see from where he was lounging—and started up his scritching and scribbling.
Beckett watched him.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m about,” Arden said after a moment. He glanced up and measured Beckett’s body critically before turning his attention back to the page.
“Nah. I’m busy enjoying myself in this bath. Sure you won’t join me? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Arden glanced up again, and there was a tiny snapping sound as the nib of his pencil broke against the paper. “Oh.”
Beckett was holding his cock. At Arden’s breathless littleoh, he gave a slow, knowing stroke and raised a brow.
Arden considered it. For a moment, he did. Beckett saw it on his face, clear as day.
Still, Arden shook his head and drew in on himself a little. Ah, well. Worth a shot. Beckett smiled at Arden and slipped beneath the water. He lay there, holding his breath until it ran out. When he resurfaced, Arden had taken up another pencil and was back to scribbling, the little oddling.
Beckett went about lathering up the sweetly scented soap that Arden had used, and felt a flare of possessiveness when he thought that they’d smell the same after this. That he’d carry Arden’s scent. He made a bit of a show of it when he soaped himself up, making sure the foam slithered over all the interesting bits, getting up onto his knees to give Arden a good look, and pointing out the beauty mark on his bum while he was at it.
Although Beckett was naked and on display, Arden was the one exposed here, his need and his longing painfully clear to see. It made Beckett feel tender, protective.
“Are you going to let me have a look at any of those?” he asked quietly, after he’d soaped himself all over and sank back down into the bath, propping his feet up on the edge.
Arden hummed. “Yes, of course.”
Beckett stretched languorously. He could get used to this whole bathing business. Much nicer than the pump. “Come on, then.”
“When you’re out of the bath.”
Beckett gathered himself and stood up at once, the water sheeting down his body. He laughed; Arden’s mouth dropped open at the sight. He scraped the water off his face with both hands, pushing his hair back and giving it a quick squeeze before slinging a leg over the rim of the bath and making his way over to Arden.
Who leapt out of the chair and bolted.
“Where are you going?” Beckett said with another laugh.
Arden flapped the book at him from a safe distance, then hugged it against his chest. “I don’t want you getting it wet.”
Beckett grabbed a towel and dried himself briskly, keeping his eyes on Arden. He tossed the towel at the chair Arden had vacated, and crooked his finger. “Come here,” he said. Arden didn’t even hesitate. Even though he was giving Beckett’s erection a wary side-eye.
He passed the book over from a cautious distance and Beckett opened it to the latest pages. He stared at the images of himself. Just sketches, of course, rough and brief and erotic.
“Jack’s going to love these,” he said, and looked up.
“That was rather my plan,” Arden said.
“You have a plan?”
Arden bit his lip and nodded.
CHAPTER 35
