Watford Tales

Hot Bath

Baz

After Simon and Niall flew off into the snowstorm last night Dev and I just stood there, watching the whirling flakes as if they held some kind of answer, until it was too cold to stand there any more. We closed the window and spelled away the pile of snow that had collected underneath it. We poked around the office a little, looking for clues but we didn't find anything. Possibelf was always close to the Mage. I wonder which side she'll land on in all this.

I said goodnight to Dev and hunted down in the catacombs. I'm relieved Dev and Niall are with us now. I think they're going to be useful, but there are going to be some challenges as well. I've had things worked out so that I can hunt without them noticing. A few more late night meetings like this and it could get awkward.

I didn't think I'd sleep. I tossed and turned for most of the night, worrying about Simon, wanting him, but then I actually drifted off for a couple of hours. I startle awake when I hear a tapping at the window, and there he is. The sun is coming up in a clear blue sky, the world painted white below and Simon at the window, clinging to the ledge with raw red fingers, his ridiculous leathery wings flapping slowly to keep him in place.

I feel the relief wash over me in a wave as I leap to open the window and then he's in my arms, the cold air blasting in behind him. I've got him. My mouth is on his and he's cold, so cold, his cheeks are like ice and his hands are raw and red. I can feel how cold they are through the back of my pajama shirt as he holds me. He's kissing me back and those leathery wings are still flapping slowly, filling the small room. The edge of one is on my bed and the other knocks over a jar of pencils on his desk and sends them skittering over the floor. His ridiculous tail whips out and wraps around the top of my thighs and pulls my hips in against his. He's so cold. I work my hands under his cloak (my cloak) and his duffel and he's soaked underneath, cold and wet. He's starting to shiver. I'm half laughing, half crying and we just keep kissing.

"I'm so cold, that you feel warm," he says, at last, working his hands under my pajama top to to warm them against my bare skin. The shivering is just getting worse. His lips are kind of blue. Simon is usually such a furnace. He probably would have frozen to death if he'd been like anyone else. I'm getting so cold I'm starting to shiver as well, standing there with him, trying to warm him with my minimal body heat.

"You need a hot bath," I say.

"Really Baz? A bath?"

"Mmm, yeah, really."

It's the only thing to do. There's a tub in our bathroom but I don't think either of us has ever used it. It's a bit dusty and I "Clean as a whistle" it with my wand. Simon's wings and tail are filling the tiny bathroom as I start running water in the tub and taking off his cloak. Underneath all his clothes, even his coat, are in tatters from where the wings and the tail broke through. His trousers and shirt are soaked.I dump a bunch of shampoo in the tub for bubble bath and the room fills with the smell of bergamot and cedar. I help him out of his clothes. The laces of his boots are frozen, and the leather is stiff and it takes a while to work them off his feet. Underneath his feet are white, wrinkly. His wet wool trousers stick to his legs as I pull them off him. His hands are kind of stiff and useless. The erotic possibilities of this scenario haven't escaped me but at the moment I'm more concerned with warming him up before he dies of hypothermia. I get the rest of his clothes off, and he's standing naked in front of me. I can't help staring, just for a minute. It's a pretty impressive sight. He's got moles I never knew about, on his belly and his upper thighs, his skin is tawny and covered with fine wiry, golden hairs, turning brownish down towards his pubes, and the muscles in his thighs, well, it's making me a bit dizzy to tell you the truth. Those wings are still out, flapping ever so slightly, framing him and that tail is whipping around toward me again. I hear my breath hitch. He looks at me and grins as his cock unfurls and pokes out towards me in a kind of salute.