The water in the royal tub was hot, smelling of sandalwood and steam, but Elian was burning from the inside out.
Cassian sat behind him, his massive frame taking up most of the porcelain expanse. Elian rested back against the Prince's chest, his legs floating weightlessly in the water, spread wide by Cassian's thighs.
"You are still tense," Cassian murmured against Elian's wet skin. He dropped the sponge. He didn't need it anymore.
His hands, large and calloused, slid down Elian's chest, slick with soap and oil. They swirled over Elian's stomach, dipping lower with every pass.
"It's hard to relax when you're being hunted by a priest," Elian gasped, tipping his head back onto Cassian's shoulder.
"The priest is in a cell," Cassian growled, biting lightly at the sensitive cord of Elian's neck. "You are here. With me. And I am going to wash every memory of that tower off your skin."
He slid his hand down between Elian's legs.
