Embarrassment was not something many immortals had for their body. Their culture was one which indulged plentifully in the many wonders of flesh, and Kirin had even had the misfortune of stumbling upon one of the more risque parties among the aristocracy, which featured many nudists and orgies which he had simply no interest in. He had never found a partner which made him indulge in the act as lasciviously as some of his fellows, but he was also not unaware of it. Yet, in the presence of this particular stranger, an individual which was so foreign and unknown to him that he could hardly consider him kin, it felt wrong to expose himself. Not to mention, being compared to such a perfect specimen would make almost anyone a little self conscious.

　　His need to not be filthy was more powerful than some fleeting shyness. He made quick work of removing his clothing, simply because he could feel, rather than see, the gaze of his companion on him. The brazen stare, like a ray of sunlight, trailing over his lithe form. Too quickly, he slipped into the water - the splash that accompanied his near tumble was terribly inelegant. His ancestors must be ashamed of the pathetic being he had become, so very against the grain of what their society deemed a suitable disposition in this moment.

　　 It was cold - nearly freezing - and that was a blessing. It was hard for the body to reach excitement when surrounded in such a chilling environment, and something told him he would need all the help to stay calm he could get. And it was water nevertheless, which he had been given none to bathe with these long months. Or years. Time. It was a shallow pool, but deep enough that he could submerge if he curled up tightly enough, and with enough breadth that Angeles could likely join him. The thought roused an imagination of the act, of the water rippling around the long limbs of this chamber’s occupant, the soft sigh escaping his lips as he submerged into the crisp depths. Heat crept up his cheeks, and Kirin mentally chastised himself for allowing that train of thought to leave the station, hesitantly glancing back towards the object of his fantasy as if to determine whether he knew such lewd recesses of his mind. Bad choice.

　　Golden eyes stared at him, hot and persistent, shimmering with the flames of desire. Some possessed the ability to undress an individual with their eyes, to catch every curve and contour of the body even concealed beneath fabric. Angeles took this talent further - there was the distinct impression that he could devour Kirin with just a look. Caress every inch of him, penetrate into depths yet unknown, that the mere thought conveyed within that gaze would somehow bring the fantasy to fruition. It set a fire across the pallid flesh of the smaller male, and he quickly looked away, indulging in a full submersion into the water.

　　 The feel of the cold as it wrapped around his deprived flesh was soothing and enjoyable, a needed distraction from the lustful golden orbs that never faltered in their intensity. Already, it felt better - his heart slowed in its beat, leaving him curious as to when it had reached such a fervent tempo. The water cleansed his mind, briefly, of the feel of that man’s touch, the memory of warmth unbearable, his skin left crisp, but still too dirty. Right. He knew that scrubbing would be required before he was truly clean again, and he wondered if any amount of scrubbing would be able to disinfect his disgusting form. Grit was not at all an attractive feature.

　　As he arose, curiosity - a sick emotion - forced him to glance back at the other man... Again. Angeles had not moved from his position, perhaps true to his word of not interrupting him, yet his eyes continued to pierce straight into him, fucking him with their stare. The expression he wore only made it worse, a sight that betrayed intimacy reserved only for the bedroom, his smile languid but suggestive, the slack posture and propped legs somehow inviting and disarming all at the same time. Heat rose within his cheeks despite the cold that engulfed him, again threatening a warmth that started in his blood, that worked from his heart that quickened its pounding. He had never been so aware of that organ in himself, even though it was a sound he often listened for in others. Since when was it so loud in his ears? Turning away, seeking to ignore that sensation, he busied himself with focusing on his hands. Clawing away the dirt and grime.

　　Suddenly, an arm reached into the water beside him, so unexpectedly he actually gave a faint shriek, grasping at something on the stony water bed. His body reflexively sought escape, his legs kicking out to propel himself from the water, but a firm hand behind his form kept him in place. Whipping around, his expression shifted from shock to the best display of outrage he could manage, given his vulnerable position.

　　The long haired monster in all his glory knelt next to the pool, those devilish eyes even more unnerving from this intimate distance than they had been half a room away. His lips maintained that almost lazy smile, giving his expression a touch of youthful mischief.

　　“You bastard - you said you wouldn’t disturb me!” Kirin was impressed with himself - he sounded firmer and stronger than he felt when confronted with the stranger. His back arched, his posture adopting the rigid countenance honed from the court life he had been expected to lead up until this point, and he feigned as much an intimidating persona as he could muster. It felt futile, like a child playing at being adult, when compared with Angeles’ natural ease at commanding the situation.

　　“This isn’t a disruption, it is an assistance,” the red haired male answered simply, the amusement in his tone clear and unapologetic. “Besides, your doe eyes were inviting me. I am merely answering you.”

　　“W-what?! I would nev-!”

　　Lips crushed against his own, silencing the train of indignation, of refusal, of denying something he was loath to accept as reality. This was harsher than the last time, Angeles’ teeth scraped against Kirin’s lips, splitting them slightly, mercilessly. It sucked all the air out of the smaller man’s lungs, stripped him of the bravado he had just confidently mustered, but only momentarily. It was just so shocking.

　　Perhaps as startling as the resounding slap that echoed in the cavernous chamber as Kirin’s open palm collided with Angeles’ left cheek.

　　The act cut off the kiss and caused a bloom of color to spread upon the perfect complexion of the larger man. For the first time, his expression was wide-eyed and bewildered, perplexed that such an act should come to pass. And, suddenly, the pit of Kirin’s stomach knotted and he felt an overwhelming fear and regret for the act, since he had no way of knowing whether the man before him would retaliate in full force or not. He had the instinctive feeling that there would not be much chance, were that the case, to get away unscathed. If he could at all. His mouth parted, starting to form an apology, one which was spurred along more from fear than actually believing the act was unjust, when Angeles shifted his face back to him once more, and the sound of soft chuckling filled the air.

　　It was so melodious, once again Kirin was left breathless. Even with his crimson hair dislodged and concealing half his face, it was evident that the other had not lost his good humor. Reaching out to catch Kirin’s hand, Angeles leaned forward - clearly not having learned any lesson at all - and licked his tongue seductively across the slighter male’s lips, lapping up the small blood which had been brought to the surface by the aforementioned brutish kiss.

　　“You have spunk. Come, I won’t do it again. Let me help you. My touch won’t be so unforgiving as yours was just now.”

　　Kirin bit his lip, torn between fear and shame. There was no way to reject the thoughts he was most certainly having about the man, the assumptions he had made regarding that golden stare, or the fleeting fantasies he had allowed to be entertained. Part of him, he could feel based on his quickened heart and the warmth he felt tingling through his veins, had been asking for that kiss. Begging for it. But even so, it was unexpected, and he had reacted impulsively. His mind teetered between two extremes, fighting further or running away.

　　In the end, he acquiesced, yielding to that shameful part of himself that he knew would not be at ease unless he discovered why this male was so appealing, so fascinating, so frustratingly tempting. He looked away from Angeles, but allowed his body to shift closer to him, his voice a sulking sound when he spoke, “Fine... How are you helping?”

　　The answer for that was in action, not words. The long fingers and strong hands of his companion pressed against his abdomen, at first, and he felt at once the gritty substance that was against his palms. Confused he looked down, watching as Angeles scrubbed against his slim torso with a handful of sand, leaving flushed red skin in the wake, rubbed crisp and clean. At once, he felt foolish and embarrassed, and then in the next breath, consciously aroused. The act of being washed by another was such a very intimate thing, so exposed as he was, and his body lit up with an exquisite kind of yearning everywhere Angeles touched. His heart fluttered at an almost painful rate, so rapidly he was sure it was in danger of bursting at any moment, and the progress of those sensual hands, in the guise of helping, was arduously slow, every scrub meticulously placed so that a nail might trail down a stimulating line, his fingers brushing against his collar, down his spine.

　　“Stop - stop, I can finish by myself.” He found himself speaking without really meaning to, but didn’t regret the suggestion when it came out. There was a long pause, the hands stopping in their movement against his body, before a sigh seemed to concede to the younger man’s demand.

　　“Have it your way. For now.”

　　Glancing behind him at the beautiful being, Kirin noted the frown, the dissatisfaction, and felt his chest constrict in regret. Perhaps this was a kindred spirit, he considered. Isolated and alone. Lonely. Relishing the contact with a warm body regardless of who, needing the contact to feel alive. To feel anything other than self loathing. In that moment, Angeles’ expression was almost unspeakably sad, and gave the impression of greater depth than simply being told no. Kirin had to look away quickly, lest he fall into the enigma of his companion before he could actually become a sanitary immortal once again. Taking the tool he had just been exposed to, he spent the remainder of the time scrubbing himself silly with a handful of sand. It was silt like, fine grained and perfectly white, no trace of dirt or contaminant despite where it was found. It reminded him of bath salts.

　　The remainder of the bath was uneventful.