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[perfectteatime]

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[untsundered]

It's strange, being so cared for in this manner. It isn't that he hasn't been doted on before, he has, plenty of times. Hythlodaeus himself does it in his own ways, and even before that he played the part of an Emperor. He had staff that would tend to his every need, he had luxurious baths, and attendants, and so forth. For all his character might not have had the happiest life, he certainly lived one steeped in the privilege that was afforded by that ridiculous crown he bore. All of it lacked the intimacy that currently fills this room, the love that warms them more than the water or Byleth's fire magic.

For all it tended to his vessel, all that care he received at that time didn't reach his heart, not as Byleth does now. After eons of being the one to fuss over the other Unsundered, to be the one to take care of himself, to varying degrees of success, to have someone else lavish him in this way...

All of it soothes him in ways deeper than skin, coaxes him into such relaxation that he almost feels guilty over it. Over the fussing, over Byleth doing this for him. It isn't that he doesn't enjoy the actions, he does, but it feels too indulgent, too selfish when he does not like to burden those that he cares for in such a manner. Yet he is not immune to the affects, to the calming sensation of it all, and so his eye lids feel as heavy as Byleth's question implies.

"Mmm." Is his unhelpful acknowledgment that he heard him, but not much of an answer to the question. "Aye, that I am. Little surprise, given how relaxing this bath is, and the work of your dutiful hands. Mayhap we should retire."

[perfectteatime]

"I'm glad, and I agree. Though I could happily stay in here with you forever, we'd get all... squiggly." Squiggly? Sure. That's the word for it. Reluctantly though, he extracts himself, fetching a towel for each of them. He drapes Emet's over his head and gently rubs his hair, using the towel to pull him into a kiss before he can complain about it. He offers the man a hand up, and lets the water drain. He'll keep the thought that Emet looks like a scruffly cat with his hair in disarray like that. No, he'd rather not rouse the man's comical ire at the moment. Keeping him in a placid, sleepy state is so much better a thought. Better to cuddle with, after all.

Byleth dries, but doesn't bother dressing, instead, leading him in to bed and slipping under the covers bare. It would be such a waste to not be able to feel skin to skin, being so soft after a bath full of oils and scent.

"Do you want to be the big spoon or the little one?" This is a serious question, that he asks with the same candor as one would ask someone what they prefer for supper. The confidence which comes through it makes clear that he is utterly serious and does not find the question silly at all.