The air is thick with salts, but Chirrut can smell Baze, his presence. If Chirrut were to shift over a seat, he could reach out and touch bare skin.
“Chirrut?” Baze says. “Are you… meditating?”
“Yes,” Chirrut says.
“Really?” Baze sounds skeptical.
“Of course I am. What else would I be doing?”
“I don’t know. You look serious.”
“Meditation is serious. Grandmaster Ekian says so.”
Baze laughs. “Not the way you do it.”
“Some of us trail blaze the way we can.” Chirrut lowers himself a little more into the water in the hopes of getting Baze to stop talking (he’s not unaware of the irony of their switched roles), yet here, too, Baze disappoints.
“Be careful there, Chirrut.” Baze moves, and there’s a little rain of droplets when he lifts an arm out of the water. Chirrut starts at a touch to his temple. “I’m not sure your face is made for such an expression.”
“What’s that supposed to—” Chirrut jerks out of reach, even as he’s cataloguing how Baze’s fingertips feel after being softened by the hot water. “What.”
“Sorry,” Baze says. “I… Never mind. How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine. Much improved. How’s your knee?”
“It’s all right.” There’s movement in the water, which has Chirrut imagining Baze frowning down at said knee through the water. Chirrut doesn’t actually know how Baze normally sits, because there’s only so much one can learn from being attentive, but in the spring his feet must be flat on the stone floor. His knees would be a little – or a lot – apart, and Chirrut reminds himself to be a good person and not think about water settling in the intimate spaces of his friend’s body.
Chirrut hauls himself out of the water before he can second-guess his decision, or which angle he should take in climbing out. Even so he’s out too quickly, and hisses at the rush of cool air on his skin. Through the roar in his ears he vaguely makes out Baze saying something – probably advice to be careful – but Chirrut is already moving, practically bouncing on tip-toes over to the rinser despite the indignity of it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Once in the changing room and standing in front of his cubbyhole with a towel wrapped around himself, Chirrut relaxes. He takes a handful of deep breaths, and then starts drying himself off. He tells himself that Baze is a better person than he is, and would not use Chirrut’s moment of weakness against him, if he’d noticed. Probably.
“Chirrut,” Baze says, voice close to Chirrut’s shoulder.
Chirrut jumps. “What?”
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Baze says, worried. “No one sneaks up on you. What is it?”
“Nothing, I just want to – you’re right, we’re wasting time.”
“I’m right? If you’re trying to make me worry less, that is a poor answer.” Baze falls quiet while Chirrut finishes drying off and starts pulling his clothes out of the cubbyhole. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Chirrut says, alarmed. “No, of course not.”
“Then you won’t tell me?”
Chirrut stills, chagrined at the hurt in Baze’s tone. “It’s just… You’re beautiful.”
Baze starts to laugh, but stops abruptly. “What?”
“I already knew you were beautiful in your soul.” Chirrut shrugs helplessly. “Today I learned that you are beautiful everywhere. It’s not important, I’m sorry.”
Chirrut busies himself sorting through his clothes and tries to ignore Baze’s presence, but the other man is still standing there, silent and dripping water onto the tiled floor.
“You’re—” Baze clears his throat. “You’re beautiful, too, Chirrut.”
“Hmm,” Chirrut says distantly. “Can you give me some space, I need to—”
Baze’s fingers, still hot from the spring waters, curl around Chirrut’s wrist. “May I?” he says, low and gentle. He waits until Chirrut nods – more confused than anything else – and then lifts Chirrut’s hand, bringing it up to rest on his chest.
Chirrut jerks his hand in surprise, his first reaction to draw away from the inappropriate touch. It’s only after a second that he remembers that this is an invitation, and that Baze is holding his hand there and guiding him to flatten his palm against the warm, damp, lightly-furred skin.
Underneath Chirrut’s hand, Baze’s heart is racing.
Not only that, but Baze’s heart is thumping even faster than Chirrut’s. Chirrut is frozen in surprise; he would not have guessed this at all, not with Baze’s breathing being so even, and his stance so still.
The obvious question rises: what else is going on with Baze?
Well, there’s one obvious answer, which is made clear enough by Baze’s actions. In fact, now that Chirrut knows what to look for, he can feel the slight tremor in Baze’s fingers. The only thing that makes Chirrut hesitate is how ludicrous it seems, because he’s never known Baze to have difficulty in expressing himself.
Which just means that Chirrut has a long, long way to go when it comes to knowing Baze Malbus.
“Please say something,” Baze says, a little plaintively.
“This is a new one for me,” Chirrut admits. “I’m rather at a loss.”
“Surely you’ve petted other wet, naked men before.” Chirrut laughs, and then raises his other hand to Baze’s face, cupping the curve from his cheek to chin. Baze is grinning as well, and keeps on grinning as he says, “There we are. I missed that smile of yours.”
“And now I know another way to get your attention.”
Baze huffs. “That’s cheeky of you.”
“It’s cheeky of you, to be telling me this here, while we’re both underdressed and vulnerable.”
“I know, I know,” Baze says, sighing ruefully. “I wanted to do this correctly. Gauge your interest to be sure of my welcome, and then court you with proper ceremony.”
“You still can,” Chirrut says. “You’ve just done that first part, haven’t you?”
“Have I? You haven’t actually confirmed—” Baze is silenced when Chirrut tips forward, bringing their lips together.
Chirrut misses a little and has to course-correct, but Baze doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Baze seems fully agreeable, and parts his lips to initiate Chirrut into another round of sensory overload.
This is what Baze’s mouth tastes like. This is what he smells like up close. This is how it feels when Baze coaxes Chirrut’s mouth open, and slips his tongue between Chirrut’s lips. It is all extremely useful information, and further evidence of what rich and exquisite treasures the galaxy holds.
Baze draws away first, with a sharp grunt and the loss of slight pressure against Chirrut’s thigh that he only just then realizes must have been the tip of Baze’s erection. On one hand, this is a disappointment, but on the other hand, this bodes well for their future courtship, which Chirrut has decided will be magnificent.
“Right,” Baze says. He clears his throat, and there’s a rustle as he pulls a towel tighter around himself. “I hear your answer, Chirrut Îmwe. Thank you.” He sounds so dignified, too, but ruins the effect by brushing his thumb across Chirrut’s lower lip. Chirrut’s knees only go a little bit weak.
“And I look forward to your courtship.” It isn’t difficult for Chirrut to take a step back and away, for he is content to be patient.
FILL: The Hot Springs Episode (2/2) - Chirrut/Baze - Onsen/Hot Spring Pools/Nude bathing
“Chirrut?” Baze says. “Are you… meditating?”
“Yes,” Chirrut says.
“Really?” Baze sounds skeptical.
“Of course I am. What else would I be doing?”
“I don’t know. You look serious.”
“Meditation is serious. Grandmaster Ekian says so.”
Baze laughs. “Not the way you do it.”
“Some of us trail blaze the way we can.” Chirrut lowers himself a little more into the water in the hopes of getting Baze to stop talking (he’s not unaware of the irony of their switched roles), yet here, too, Baze disappoints.
“Be careful there, Chirrut.” Baze moves, and there’s a little rain of droplets when he lifts an arm out of the water. Chirrut starts at a touch to his temple. “I’m not sure your face is made for such an expression.”
“What’s that supposed to—” Chirrut jerks out of reach, even as he’s cataloguing how Baze’s fingertips feel after being softened by the hot water. “What.”
“Sorry,” Baze says. “I… Never mind. How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine. Much improved. How’s your knee?”
“It’s all right.” There’s movement in the water, which has Chirrut imagining Baze frowning down at said knee through the water. Chirrut doesn’t actually know how Baze normally sits, because there’s only so much one can learn from being attentive, but in the spring his feet must be flat on the stone floor. His knees would be a little – or a lot – apart, and Chirrut reminds himself to be a good person and not think about water settling in the intimate spaces of his friend’s body.
“Fifteen minutes, isn’t it?” Chirrut says abruptly. “I’m done.”
“Oh,” Baze says. “I wasn’t keeping track.”
Chirrut hauls himself out of the water before he can second-guess his decision, or which angle he should take in climbing out. Even so he’s out too quickly, and hisses at the rush of cool air on his skin. Through the roar in his ears he vaguely makes out Baze saying something – probably advice to be careful – but Chirrut is already moving, practically bouncing on tip-toes over to the rinser despite the indignity of it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Once in the changing room and standing in front of his cubbyhole with a towel wrapped around himself, Chirrut relaxes. He takes a handful of deep breaths, and then starts drying himself off. He tells himself that Baze is a better person than he is, and would not use Chirrut’s moment of weakness against him, if he’d noticed. Probably.
“Chirrut,” Baze says, voice close to Chirrut’s shoulder.
Chirrut jumps. “What?”
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Baze says, worried. “No one sneaks up on you. What is it?”
“Nothing, I just want to – you’re right, we’re wasting time.”
“I’m right? If you’re trying to make me worry less, that is a poor answer.” Baze falls quiet while Chirrut finishes drying off and starts pulling his clothes out of the cubbyhole. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Chirrut says, alarmed. “No, of course not.”
“Then you won’t tell me?”
Chirrut stills, chagrined at the hurt in Baze’s tone. “It’s just… You’re beautiful.”
Baze starts to laugh, but stops abruptly. “What?”
“I already knew you were beautiful in your soul.” Chirrut shrugs helplessly. “Today I learned that you are beautiful everywhere. It’s not important, I’m sorry.”
Chirrut busies himself sorting through his clothes and tries to ignore Baze’s presence, but the other man is still standing there, silent and dripping water onto the tiled floor.
“You’re—” Baze clears his throat. “You’re beautiful, too, Chirrut.”
“Hmm,” Chirrut says distantly. “Can you give me some space, I need to—”
Baze’s fingers, still hot from the spring waters, curl around Chirrut’s wrist. “May I?” he says, low and gentle. He waits until Chirrut nods – more confused than anything else – and then lifts Chirrut’s hand, bringing it up to rest on his chest.
Chirrut jerks his hand in surprise, his first reaction to draw away from the inappropriate touch. It’s only after a second that he remembers that this is an invitation, and that Baze is holding his hand there and guiding him to flatten his palm against the warm, damp, lightly-furred skin.
Underneath Chirrut’s hand, Baze’s heart is racing.
Not only that, but Baze’s heart is thumping even faster than Chirrut’s. Chirrut is frozen in surprise; he would not have guessed this at all, not with Baze’s breathing being so even, and his stance so still.
The obvious question rises: what else is going on with Baze?
Well, there’s one obvious answer, which is made clear enough by Baze’s actions. In fact, now that Chirrut knows what to look for, he can feel the slight tremor in Baze’s fingers. The only thing that makes Chirrut hesitate is how ludicrous it seems, because he’s never known Baze to have difficulty in expressing himself.
Which just means that Chirrut has a long, long way to go when it comes to knowing Baze Malbus.
“Please say something,” Baze says, a little plaintively.
“This is a new one for me,” Chirrut admits. “I’m rather at a loss.”
“Surely you’ve petted other wet, naked men before.” Chirrut laughs, and then raises his other hand to Baze’s face, cupping the curve from his cheek to chin. Baze is grinning as well, and keeps on grinning as he says, “There we are. I missed that smile of yours.”
“And now I know another way to get your attention.”
Baze huffs. “That’s cheeky of you.”
“It’s cheeky of you, to be telling me this here, while we’re both underdressed and vulnerable.”
“I know, I know,” Baze says, sighing ruefully. “I wanted to do this correctly. Gauge your interest to be sure of my welcome, and then court you with proper ceremony.”
“You still can,” Chirrut says. “You’ve just done that first part, haven’t you?”
“Have I? You haven’t actually confirmed—” Baze is silenced when Chirrut tips forward, bringing their lips together.
Chirrut misses a little and has to course-correct, but Baze doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Baze seems fully agreeable, and parts his lips to initiate Chirrut into another round of sensory overload.
This is what Baze’s mouth tastes like. This is what he smells like up close. This is how it feels when Baze coaxes Chirrut’s mouth open, and slips his tongue between Chirrut’s lips. It is all extremely useful information, and further evidence of what rich and exquisite treasures the galaxy holds.
Baze draws away first, with a sharp grunt and the loss of slight pressure against Chirrut’s thigh that he only just then realizes must have been the tip of Baze’s erection. On one hand, this is a disappointment, but on the other hand, this bodes well for their future courtship, which Chirrut has decided will be magnificent.
“Right,” Baze says. He clears his throat, and there’s a rustle as he pulls a towel tighter around himself. “I hear your answer, Chirrut Îmwe. Thank you.” He sounds so dignified, too, but ruins the effect by brushing his thumb across Chirrut’s lower lip. Chirrut’s knees only go a little bit weak.
“And I look forward to your courtship.” It isn’t difficult for Chirrut to take a step back and away, for he is content to be patient.