Chapter 34
BECKETT
Beckett intercepted Hapton on the back stairs. “I’ll take that,” he said, holding out a hand.
Hapton passed the heavy water bucket over before turning and clattering down the stone steps. Off, no doubt, to tell everyone that Beckett was about to ravish the duch in his evening bath.
Beckett heaved a sigh.
He wished.
Oh, how he wished.
He’d like nothing more than to walk in and find Arden in his bath already, waiting for the final bucket of hot water to turn it from a practical dip to a luxurious soak.
He’d be pink and dewy from the steam, his hair damp and his eyes welcoming.
He’d smile, wait for Beckett to finish pouring, and then suggest that Beckett join him.
And Beckett would.
He’d be out of his clothes so fast, he’d be nothing but a blur of boots and breeches.
But Arden wasn’t going to suggest any such thing. Not because he didn’t want it. Having flipped through that eye-popping sketchbook of his, Beckett was keenly aware that his omega had a fascination with Beckett’s body. The lovingly drawn muscles, the shadows and the hollows.
It had been…
He let out a harsh puff of air. It had been something, that was for sure, to see himself as an object of curious, innocent desire.
Perhaps Jack saw him the same way. Minus the innocence. Nothing innocent about Jack. His alpha was as earthy and—
Beckett stopped so suddenly the water sloshed over the rim of the bucket and splattered onto his boots and the polished wooden floor outside Arden’s chambers.
His…?
His alpha?
Jack wasn’t…Beckett was an alpha, he didn’t have an…
His hand tightened on the handle of the bucket.
Godsdammit. Jack was his alpha.
Not only had Beckett gone and yielded, it was so easy, he hadn’t even noticed.
It didn’t feel wrong, was the thing. Recognising Jack as his alpha should have cut at the heart of who Beckett thought he was.
It didn’t.
It felt right.
Something he had noticed was Jack taking a lot longer than he’d said he would to join them.
Beckett knew why. For once, it wasn’t the Council. Jack was letting Beckett court Arden. Letting him gentle Arden, get him used to his presence. Get him used to being welcomed by Beckett rather than scurrying around thinking that Beckett was resenting him every second of the day.
Beckett appreciated it, but it was time Jack got a move on. In a week, ten days at most, Arden would have another heat.
Needless to say, their omega didn’t have a clue. Beckett did, and Jack needed to be here for it. Even though Beckett would most likely be the one taking Arden through it again, Jack needed to be here.
He didn’t knock on the door to Arden’s chamber; just turned the handle and went on in.
Arden was in his robe, kneeling on the floor by the steaming bathtub, swirling a hand dreamily through the hot water. He glanced up expectantly when Beckett came in, and there it was. The simple, happy smile that Beckett thought he’d never get from the shy man.
Beckett strode across the room and emptied the bucket into the bath. He reached down and took Arden’s small face between his hands, lifting it. He didn’t kiss him until Arden’s smile turned into a pout. Then he closed the distance between them and bit his plump lips gently.
“Come on.” Beckett stepped back and pulled Arden to his feet. He was as light and supple as a little ferret. “Get naked and hop in.”
Arden clutched the robe to his throat. “You have to turn your back first.”
“Not a chance, Your Grace. Are you going to make me strip you?”
Arden slapped out at him playfully. “Don’t you dare!”
“I’ve seen you naked.”
“In very specific circumstances, Beckett,” he said with a haughty sniff.
“Go on,” Beckett said. “Show me.”
Arden’s eyes widened.
Beckett gave him a little push. A gentle nudge of his hip. Come on, Arden.
“N-no,” Arden said, and shook his head. “I don’t want to.”
“Good boy.” Beckett gave him a kiss for it.
“Ugh.” Arden pretended to be irritated. He was buzzing with delight, and fooled no one.
Broke Beckett’s heart, it did, that he’d had to teach Arden to say no.
He was getting better, though.
“I’ll turn my back while you get in, then,” Beckett said.
“And keep it turned while I’m in,” Arden said.
Beckett dropped his head back with a groan. “I want to see you.”
“Well, you can’t.” Arden waited with raised brows until Beckett turned around and stared across the room at the door he’d just come in.
Arden’s robe hit the floor with a soft thump. Water lapped the sides of the tub.
“I won’t be long,” he said, as the splashing commenced.
“You take your time.” Beckett lowered himself to the floor and arranged himself with his back to the tub.
He stretched his arms out the length of the rim, and his legs out in front of him.
“I ain’t going nowhere. Also, that’s a good ten buckets of water been heated up for Your Grace.
If you’re in and out in under half an hour, I’ll be taking it personally on behalf of the servants. ”
Arden sloshed about. A wet, squelching noise made Beckett stiffen.
“What are you doing in there?” he demanded.
“What?”
“What’s that noise?”
“What noise? This?” The quick, wet slapping sound came again and Beckett’s eyes widened as he stared ahead, forcing himself not to turn.
“It’s the soap. I’m lathering the soap.” Arden paused, then gasped in outrage.
He flicked foam over the side of the tub to land on the boards beside Beckett’s legs. “It’s soap.”
“Oh.” Beckett exaggerated his disappointment. “Thought it was you having a quick toss.“
“In the bath?” He was still outraged. His voice was high enough to be called shrill.
Beckett laughed. “Yeah? Why not?”
“Then I’d be bathing in…no. No.” He paused. “Do you…? In the bath?”
“Exactly when is it you think I have the time to fit in a bath and a wank, Your Grace?”
Another pause. “I suppose you don’t. I apologise.
” He tugged lightly at the back of Beckett’s hair the way he liked to tug on Beckett’s shirt or his sleeve to get his attention, or to underline a point he was making as he chattered up at Beckett.
He went back to his splashing. “It’s funny you should mention not having the time for leisurely baths, actually,” he said, trying very hard to sound casual about it.
“Because I only wanted a quick one and I’m done already.
Before you take it personally, I was thinking that maybe you’d like to have a bath, too. ”
Beckett very slowly tipped his head back. “With you?” he said to the ceiling. His fingers on the rim of the tub tightened.
“Oh,” Arden said in a small voice. “I meant…I meant for you to…”
“Ah,” Beckett said, pushing down his disappointment. “Your Grace, if you want me to get naked for you, even if you won’t get naked for me, you only have to order it.”
Gods, there he went again. Another outraged gasp. Beckett’s shoulders shook as he choked back the laughter. Arden swatted his shoulder with a wet hand anyway.
“I would never order you to get naked!” he said.
“No?”
“No!”
“So as you know, Your Grace, I’d do it. Also so as you know, Your Grace, I’ll definitely order you one day. And when I do, you’ll be a good boy and do it for me, won’t you.” That wasn’t a question.
“Most likely,” Arden said.
Beckett stood up. A frantic splashing came from behind him as Arden said, “Wait, wait!” and grabbed for his towel.
The temptation to turn around was…Beckett blew out a harsh breath. It was a lot.
Yeah, it was too much. He wasn’t that good a man. He gave in and turned.
He did keep his eyes closed though, which he stated loudly the moment Arden started telling him off.
Beckett stood there, patiently holding out the robe he’d swept up from the floor before he turned. He sensed Arden shift to stand before him. Soft lips pressed against his, there and gone.
“Arden,” he said roughly. “A peek. Let me have a peek.”
The robe he was holding was twitched out of his grasp. Arden said breathlessly, “All right.”
Beckett snapped his eyes open and got the briefest flash of Arden’s body, flushed and rosy from his bath, before he whipped the open robe closed and belted it firmly.
Beckett grinned at him.
Arden, his face absolutely scarlet with embarrassment, stood to one side and swept out a dramatic arm at the bath.
Beckett bent down and removed his boots. “Are you going to wash me?” he said teasingly, to see if he could get Arden to go even redder.
“No,” Arden said, striding over to the small table by the window where he liked to take his morning cup of chocolate.
Beckett stripped down to his underclothes. “Just going to sit and watch, are you?” he said, one eyebrow raised.
“No.” Arden returned with his sketchbook and a pencil.
“You’re going to draw me?” He shoved his underclothes down, kicked them off, and stood before his omega fully naked.
Fully hard.
“If I may,” Arden said.
“By all means, Your Grace.”
Arden beamed, and gestured him into the bath.
Beckett didn’t wait about. He really didn’t ever get the time to lounge about in a nice hot bath.
He couldn’t remember when he last had a nice cold bath, let along a hot one.
He had a brisk wash at the washstand of a morning, and when he needed a good all over, he did what everyone else did and went out the back to the pump to freeze his balls off.
This was… “Ahhhhh,” he sighed, slipping in. “Fuck, that’s nice.”
Arden finished dragging a chair right to the edge of the bath and sat himself in it, drawing his legs up and resting the sketchbook on his lap. His eyes were about falling out of his head as he stared and stared.
He looked at Beckett from his toes to the top of his head, and down to his face, where he stopped.
“You are beautiful,” he said to Beckett, as if it had burst out of him. He hunched. “Sorry.”
“Why sorry?” Beckett rolled his shoulders and slid a littler lower.
“You don’t like it when I say that. You didn’t, I mean.”
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 little oh, 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.