The water was warm, scented faintly with lavender and cedar, steam curling up in soft wisps that fogged the edge of the tub. Nyx sat with his back against the curve of your chest, muscles tense beneath his skin, wings slack and heavy in the water around him. He’d only just returned from a mission—worn down, bruised, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin.

You hadn’t asked questions when he arrived, shadows curling around his shoulders like a cloak. You simply guided him to the bath, undressing him with quiet care, settling in behind him once he lowered himself into the water. Now, your legs were draped loosely around his waist, your fingers running lightly over his arms in soothing strokes.

Then you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I… wash them?”

Nyx stilled. His entire body went taut for a heartbeat. His wings — those massive, sensitive, private extensions of himself — twitched in the water.

But you didn’t move. Didn’t push.

And slowly, he nodded. “Slowly,” he murmured, voice rough. “They’re… they feel everything.”

You reached for the sponge beside you, dipping it into the lavender-scented water, and brought it to one of his wings. Your touch was light, reverent, tracing the membrane with gentle care. Nyx shuddered — not from discomfort, but from the sheer intimacy of it. Of being touched where no one else ever had.

Your fingers followed the sponge, tracing along the wing’s strong bone structure, learning the shape of him in silence. Every stroke was deliberate. Patient. As if you were memorizing him, showing him without words that he was safe here.

Nyx let out a long, shaky exhale, his head resting back against your shoulder.

“You okay?” you asked softly, lips brushing the edge of his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I trust you.”

So you kept going, washing him with a quiet tenderness that said more than any words could. His wings floated gently in the water, the tension bleeding out of his body with every pass of your hands. You worked in silence, letting him lean into you completely, letting him rest without armor for the first time in what felt like days.