Work Text
Mack’s Well-Bathed and Witcher-y Wet Dream
Mack
I opened the bathroom door and-Wait. What?That was a lot more rustic than I remembered our bathroom redesign looking like.I didn’t think the tiles we chose were stone-look ones. Though this stone looked like real stone. And there was no way that covering our en suite with the contents of an entire quarry was within our budget.I turned to look at the hallway behind me. More stone, and honest-to-goodness flaming torches set in sconces on the walls. I know we decided that the wiring was old enough to be worth redoing, but-The sound of splashing made me turn back to what was apparently our new indoor Roman spa.Automatic reflexes had me scanning for ghosties. Perhaps the sound of water meant that if there were spookems about, there might be some holy water I could-
Ho-lee hell.
I sure hoped that the mountain of man sitting in the bathtub was all flesh and blood.
Flesh and muscle. Mostly muscle. Rippling, moist, steam-dewed muscle.The water in the tub must be holy, blessed by the god currently sitting in it. Lounging against the side with one leg bent up in a provocative pose, all golden skin and bedroom eyes. Bathroom eyes. Whatever eyes, he looked like he either wanted to eat me up or invite me to feast on him.
I volunteer as tribute!
Wait, wrong quote. Though there was something about this situation that did seem very familiar…“Good evening.” Since I was apparently unable to speak with my jaw unhinged and dragging on the stone-flag floor, the behemoth in the bathwater took it upon himself to hail me. “In case it escaped your notice, this washroom is already occupied.”Oh yeah, I had just burst in and was ogling a naked man reclining in his bath. How rude of me. In my defence, I forgot all my manners when all my blood suddenly ran far south of my brain.“Uh, sorr- um, my apologies, good sir?” Yes, my reply came out as a question. I certainly wasn’t sorry I was here, but I wondered if he was. If he wanted me to skedaddle and leave him to his private bath time-“Not sure I’m such a ‘good’ sir,” he all but purred, and mercy, I couldn’t tell if it was the steam in here making me feel light-headed or if I had a sudden case of the vapours. “Perhaps you are indeed a ‘good sir’, however? If you wish to prove your worth, you could kindly assist by washing my back for me?”I could be good. I could be so good, I could wash his back better than anyone in the history of back-scrubbing had ever done.Rather than attempt to get those words out, I set about proving what a useful little helper I could be.I snatched up the wash cloth that hung over the side of the tub. Dunking it in the water - a decorous distance away from the chiselled arc of long, long leg that protruded above the water’s surface - I wrung out the excess. Was there some kind of fragrance in the bathwater, or was that intoxicating scent - something citrus and spicy, rowanberry maybe? - coming from him?Shaking off the near-drunken stupor the delicious scent of him had wrought over my senses, I began to ran the cloth up and down the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin of his back. He leaned forward slightly so I could better reach, sending ripples of reflected light dancing like tiger stripes all over his golden hide.Lucky, lucky cloth. I wished I was touching him directly with nothing between his skin and mine. As it was, the warmth emanating from him was making my fingertips tingle.I hoped I was doing a good job. Perhaps I could do a better job. I could offer to clean every inch of that delectable musculature with my tongue, if that was something he might agree to. Given the contented purr he made as I continued to lovingly stroke those broad shoulders, I thought he might let me.“You are good indeed,” he confirmed after several long minutes of focused scrubbing on my part.The praise lit me up, while the gravel in that voice made me shiver. If I was as good as he said, I wondered if I could earn a reward? Just talking to me in that sexy rumble was practically enough to get me-“Forgive me for not introducing myself before I invited you to be so… tactile with me," he went on, every syllable still hitting my dick on the way to my ears. "I am Brandalt of Havilia.”I was caught on the further possibilities ‘getting tactile’ might entail, until recollection of that name finally dawned through my persistent brain fog. “The famed witcher?”He gave a nod that was probably meant to be self-deprecating, but mostly just looked smug.
Why did I find that obvious confidence so damn sexy? Oh yeah, because I breathed and had a pulse.“The very one,” he affirmed. "I am honored that you have heard of me."Heard of him?! How could I not have heard of him? The bards at every inn sang about the famed Golden Bear, there were countless ballads written about the villages he had protected from monsters and the many feats of strength he had performed. His reputation alone would be enough to make me swoon, if the self-assured smirk he wore wasn’t already doing it for me.Well wasn’t that exciting - just when I thought this situation couldn’t get any better!“I happen to be in the same business myself.” Shyness - and not a little lust - confounded my tongue. “Uh, I am called Mack.”Some boldness surged back into me when I saw Brandalt’s brows raise. He turned his head to better look at me over one colossal shoulder, his eyes bright with recognition. “You are not Mackenzie la Fayette, the mage of Opelousas?”I couldn’t help but preen a little at how impressed, almost awed, his tone was. “I am indeed. Enchanté, fellow wiccan, a pleasure to meet you.”His eyes washed over me, looking me up and down, as if the sight of me gave him pleasure.The way he eyed me was very gratifying compared to how folks tended to look at me when I told them I am a monster hunter. I might not look like a powerful fighter - unlike the great strapping warrior in front of me - but I had my own particular strength. I was in fact an unmatched ‘spirit mage’, able to banish evil monsters with my inner light. The outward vessel might be somewhat lacklustre - compared to certain handsome giants - but on the inside, I was a total boss.Unlike most, Brandalt’s eyes didn’t contain scepticism or derision as they looked me over. They contained heat. Hunger. Did those deep brown eyes have flecks of gold in them because he was a witcher, or was he naturally gorgeous as well as supernaturally gifted? Either way, the plain desire I saw in them made a thrill go down my spine, reaching certain other parts of my anatomy.Speaking of anatomy, I couldn’t see beneath the water’s surface - too many reflections from the burning sconces ringing the tub - but whatever was under there, I was willing to wash it very thoroughly. I was pretty sure I spied a canister of chamomile lotion sitting on a ledge by the tub; once he was all squeaky clean, I would very gladly rub him down with it, make sure he was well oiled in all the right places, any excuse to get my hands on what I was sure was a very lovely bott-As if he heard my thoughts, the yummy man currently eying me like I was more than edible asked me: “Would you care to join me, Mack? One hunter to another; since you scrubbed my back, the very least I can do is scrub yours.”Oh, yes please. He was welcome to scrub any part of me he wished. If scrubbing my back was the least he could do, I hoped at most he would venture a bit lower.Dropping the wash cloth back over the rim of the tub, I reached for my shirt, very eager to strip and dive right into that. Forget about tossing a coin to my witcher, I was more than ready to throw myself at him.Well, I tried to. Somehow the cloth was resisting me, wrapping round me and refusing to come off. How had my shirt ballooned in size? I could barely see Brandalt beyond the folds, though I could still hear his voice.“Mack. Mack, honey. Mack!”
"Mack, wake up!"“Wha-?”I jolted up into a sitting position. Since I was sitting, had I finally made it into the bathtub?No, I was still trapped inside my shirt. Wait, not a shirt, a sheet.I was sitting up in bed, staring at my toes under the doona, sunlight - not torchlight - spilling over the covers.“You finally awake?” a voice asked at my elbow.I turned, and there he was. Still looking deliciously rumpled, but no longer wet, and unfortunately more clothed than I had last seen him.“Brandalt?” I mumbled, before my just-woken brain could catch up with my mouth.My man gave me a bewildered look, as well he should. “Uh, Mack honey? I know you slept kinda late, but surely you didn’t sleep long enough to forget my name? Or were you expecting someone else?”I flopped back down on my pillow and laughed at myself. “I was having a wild dream.”“Oh, a wild one, was it?” My sexy Brandon propped himself up on his own pillow beside mine, turning on his side so he could grin at me. “I thought it must be a doozy when you started wrestling with the quilt. Though should I be jealous of a strange man whose name you call out in your slumbering passions?”I picked at the stitching along the edge of the doona with my fingernail, feeling a little sheepish. “No, no jealousy for you. It was actually you, but an alternate old-timey fantasy version of you. Uh, your name was Brandalt of Havilia, and you were a… famous witcher.”Brandon gazed down at me for a beat. Then he burst out laughing.“Mack, oh Mack honey!” he guffawed, writhing all over our mattress with laughter. He tried to talk through his chuckles while still clutching his (rock solid) gut and shaking with mirth, which was the most adorable thing ever. “You have clearly watched the bath scene too many times! Though I am very flattered that you replaced Henry Cavill with me.”“Of course I did.” I rolled over and clung to one muscled - thankfully bare thanks to his short-sleeved sleep shirt - arm, like I had been dying to do in my dream. “You are far yummier than him.”“That is quite the compliment. Legions of fans would argue with you.”“Legions of fans can go dunk their heads. They’re not the ones anchored to you and dating you.”He ducked his head to kiss me on the forehead. “Am I to understand that you dreamed about you and me having some sexy bath times?”I had been enjoying the sweetness of his affections, but suddenly the sleepy tranquillity evaporated. Since I didn’t get to ravish my man in my dreams, I wanted to do it for real. Right now, damn it.“Come on, allons,” I ordered him, popping up out of bed and grabbing his arm again to drag him with me.He scooted over onto my side of the bed and rolled easily off the edge of the mattress, going where I tugged. “What’s your hurry to get up all of a sudden? We were literally in bed, weren’t you in the mood for sexy times?”“Sure, of course, the day I don’t want sexy times with you is the day I become a ghost myself, and even then I'll still be haunting your ass,” I declared, making him laugh. “But I want to make my dream a reality. I want wet, naked Brandalt of Havilia in my bath tub, right now.”“Uh, Mack…?”For the second time this morning - sort of - I flung open the bathroom door.Oh, right.In my sleepy haze, I forgot that our en suite was currently a construction zone. Bare plaster, exposed pipes, piles of ripped-up old tile and an uncovered drain where our new bathtub would be greeted my eyes.“Sorry, honey,” Brandon said, sounding sincere, but I could hear the laughter in his voice. Glad my shattered dream amused him. “Mom is coming by in a few hours to help measure the room and figure out how many new tiles we need to order, remember? You’ll have to put that fantasy on hold for a while.”Noooo, whyyyy? Our new house had two bathrooms, didn’t it? There was a second downstairs washroom, why couldn’t we just- oh right, because it was a functioning toilet, sink and basic shower nozzle with a rigged-up curtain and no real screened cubicle yet, that’s why. No way could we have a sexy shower without flooding the whole room, then having to explain to Mama Havili why she had to wait for the walls to dry out before she could start tiling them.I slumped in defeat. “Damn it, why can’t we just dive back into my dream? I’d just washed your back, you were about to wash mine.”His arms came round me from behind, and I felt him press a kiss to the back of my neck. “Soon, honey. Though once our new tub is in, I’m not sure both of us will fit in it at once. Might be a bit of a squeeze.”That it would, and though bathtub Tetris might be fun to play with him, my dream had shown me that having plenty of room to move might be preferable. Foolish Mack and Brandon of last week, why hadn’t we included a huge two-person spa bath in our renovation plans? Or better yet, an onsen. A sauna. A misting humidifier and a good strong loofah. Anything that gave me an excuse to get my boyfriend naked, wet and steamy.Well, the steamy part maybe we could still do. My boyfriend was managing that part well all by himself, trailing kisses from the base of my throat up to that spot behind my ear that always made me gasp when he sucked on the skin- ah, like he was doing now.“Is this you making my dream come true by washing my neck for me?” I asked, once he had finished mouthing at that sensitive spot and I got my breath back enough to talk again.“I can wash more than just your neck.” Those large, deliciously warm hands trailed lower, gripping my hips through my sleep shirt and smoothing thumbs over the top curves of my ass in a suggestion that I entirely agreed with. “A shared bucket bath might be in order. Get you all well-scrubbed in certain places, so I can taste you when you’re… freshly washed.”I groaned aloud at the mental image those words conjured up.My reply was to enthusiastically grind my ass back into the rigid length that was pressed against- well, against the small of my back, because of our ridiculous height difference. But if I was very lucky, that would be venturing lower, along the path his fingers and mouth would soon take. Rimming first thing in the morning? That was more welcome than a fountain full of sweet tea - and as a Southern raised boy, that was saying something.“Allons,” I declared again, pulling my sexy mountain of a man into our demolished bathroom, where the trusty bucket and wash cloth awaited our ablutions. No chamomile for that lovely bottom in here, but maybe I could order some kind of flavoured lube on the internet? “If you’ll kindly wash my back, good sir, I’ll return the favour by washing yours just as thoroughly.”Just like in my dream, I saw Brandon - er, Brandalt, if we were role-playing right now - look at me with eyes darkened by pure lust.“Well,” he rumbled, and though he had talked about getting me clean, that voice was about to get me filthy in seconds flat, “let’s see, sir, just how ‘good’ we both can be.”