There are two body length mirrors nailed to the walls, shining with brass frames and a subtle hint of wear and dust at the edges. There's an intricate brass bench beneath each, marble swirled and golden tops holding up an array of candles and books and other things. There's a white chair on either end, comfortable and fitted leather, with a long and velvet green ottoman between them as the centerpiece. A robe is draped over it, fluffy, and lying next to a gold and old-fashioned hairbrush. If he'd trailed his fingers over the design, he'd feel the porcelain stained with intricate art. He lets his hand slip against the wall, dragging curious fingers over the sandy colored wood of the room before he turns to the bath tub.
It's large and shaped like a trapezoid, the smaller end against the wall and an inch or so below the window's faded green curtains. There's a candle there on the edge, peach in color and sitting astray next to a vase of roses. The faucet is a rich black and a pink loofah is perched over it for him, a yellow towel hanging over the blue stained glass of the shower walls.
The shower is right attached to the edge of the tub with a detachable shower head and multiple bottles and soaps on a rack against it right next to the towel. He scans it and notices a sachet of tea (pomegranate, he thinks) next to a glass of roses and a small pink bath bomb. His heart melts when he notices the sticky note attached to the glass window and he leans over the tub to pull it off. The handwriting is elegant, soft.
Hey, darling. Went to a meeting.
Feel free to use everything.
He walks over to the marble bench in hopes of finding a place to keep it, and notices a jewelry box with the emblem of the man's own company on its head surrounded by swirls of carved flowers. He picks it up, and notices that it's made of a heavy wood, and that it isn't empty. Inside, of course, is a small necklace. The emblem is etched into its back and it's silver with a yellowish golden locket attached. There's no real design except for the flower detail around the outer edge, and he clutches it in his fingers, holds it close to his chest, and he knows its his.
He strips out of his clothes and puts them in a hamper next to one of the chairs, getting on his knees by the bath to draw the water. After it's drawn, he puts in a lavender bubble bath from a blue glass container. He sits it down next to the candle and finds a box of matches on the other bench to light it with. He drops in the tea sachet for an added coloring and sinks in, closing his eyes and letting himself melt in the water.
A soft chuckle awakes him from his daydream and he opens his eyes, hazy, still in the tub. He shifts to gaze over to the double glass doors betwixt the windows and notices him, all back from his meeting and amused that he'd actually used the bathtub. "And you had me thinking you didn't want to be here." He purrs as he undoes his tie, tossing his blazer and tie in the hamper as if they didn't matter. And to him, the bathing one supposed, they didn't. He watches him sleepily as he unbuttons his dress shirt and moves to the tub for a soft and chaste kiss on the lips.
"Who am I to turn down a free bath?" He replies, voice gentle from the soothing scents of the tub's water. He almost whines when the lips move. And, when he does, his pride is all it costs for a smirk and a kiss that's a tad bit longer.
"Would you like me to join you?" And of course, it's phrased that way. It's never that he'd like to join, it's that you want him and never the other way around. After a lazy hum, an agonizing strip, and another kiss, they're holding each other naked under the cherry colored water and making out lazily in that haze of an emotion. He tangles his wet fingers in his hair and it prompts steady hands to fall to his hips - hold him there. They don't essentially bathe, no. They only stain themselves pink with the bathwater as their lips slot against each other.
He's messy and imperfect, and his teeth clack against the man's one time too many, and it's everything than man could have wanted in the moment. They're humming into it, pressing their lips until they're too dizzy with it to think straight.
The man eventually pulls him more into his lap than he'd already been and stands, being careful of the faucet. "Are you tired, darling?" He says, more against his lips than towards anyone. It sounds like it isn't being said to him in the moment, sounds like an afterthought. A memory, maybe. But he responds anyway with a soft nod of his head.
He's dried off and in a fluffy, comfortable robe in a few minutes of a moment, sitting back in the chair as the man stands behind him in boxers, brushing his hair of all things. He looks over to the mirror and meets his eyes for a fraction of a second before he looks down to grab the necklace.
Once his hair is in a ribbon-graced ponytail, he presents the locket to the man. Then, it's on his neck. "There's nothing in it." The man notes against his neck, pressing a soft nip there to tell him that the locket is now on.
"Then, you'll give me something to put there. Won't you."
The man grins and picks him up. He carries him to bed and pulls his robe off, holding him close under the covers. He strokes his hair until his breathing patterns change, and the snore is soft against his chest because yes, of course he will. He'll give him more than a picture.
For now, though, it's only a thought.