Dax's fingers went to the fastenings of Chris's clothes, the shirt, and the trousers; each was shed and discarded to the floor in a heap of expensive fabric. Chris stood bare before him, skin pebbling in the warm, humid air.
Dax's gaze raked over him, a visceral, claiming look that felt more intimate than any touch. "Beautiful," he breathed, the word a prayer. He quickly removed his own clothes, and they were skin to skin, Dax's hard planes providing a stark contrast to Chris's.
He guided Chris backward into the large glass enclosure. Warm water instantly sluiced over them, soaking hair, plastering it to skin, and tracing paths over shoulders and down backs. Dax crowded him against the cool, wet tile, his mouth finding Chris's again in a deep, claiming kiss as the water cascaded around them.
