Tasty Alphabet B is for Bite (Arthur version free sneak peek)

You are positively fuming!

This was supposed to be a simple job. Get in. Get out. No mud, no blood, no him.

No need for trouble. You did get out...covered in mud and other...fluids.

All because of Arthur.

He’s been finding ways to grate on your nerves since childhood, and now here you are, locked in yet another staring match. There is NOT enough space for you too here. And there's only one bathtub. Arthur raise an eyebrows. "Did you not see the sign on the door with those oh-very-special eyes of yours?"

The narrow antechamber just outside the bath is filled with steam escaping from the half-open door at the end of the corridor. The scent of soap and heated water doing little to cool your temper.

Arthur is leaning casually against the wall, looking far too pleased for someone who has just dragged you through a swamp. His tunic sticks to his chest in damp patches, his hair is dripping and plastered to his forehead and neck, and that infuriating gleam in his eyes shows that he knows exactly how ridiculous he looks—and that you've noticed.

A wave of heat washes over your face. It's too hot in here, because of the heat from the water in the next room. Arthur has to leave, anyway, you were here first. 

You glare at him. "Oh, I saw it." "One at a time." You gesture at the misty doorway. "Guess reading comprehension isn’t your strong suit, Dumbass."

He smirks. "And yet here you are, still standing here, instead of waiting outside."

"I was here first!" You snap, teeth clenched. 

He snort and take slow deliberate step toward the bath door. 

"The exit’s on the other side," you point out, mirroring his movement, edging the same way he does.

"I know." His smile deepens. "You can go."

"You wouldn't dare..."

Arthur’s grin widens the moment your hand twitches nervously. That’s all the warning you get before he bolts.

"Hey!" you shout, already sprinting after him. The corridor echoes with the sound of wet boots slapping against stone.

You’re faster. Or you should be. Half-elf reflexes and all that. But Arthur’s ahead of you, long legs and pure audacity giving him the lead.

"You’re cheating!" you yell.

"Didn’t hear any rules!"

You almost grab him by the collar, until his tunic flies straight into your face. You choke on the smell of soap, leather, honey, orange, and...Damn it—Arthur. It clings to you, like a blanket, heat blooming in your chest for a stupid, fleeting second before you rip it off.

By the time your vision clears, he’s already halfway out of his pants.

"Oh, for the love of — Arthur!"

He glances back, laughing,  just long enough for you to catch one last, unfair glimpse. Lean hips, skin slick with water and sweat, broad shoulders, and those definitely not nice little pink cheeks disappearing into the steam.

Splash.

The bastard is in.

When you burst through the door, steam hits you like a wall. The air smells of cedar, soap, and  Arthur's victory.

That wont do.

Arthur is half submerged in the bathtub, as if he belonged there, his arms lazily stretched out on the wooden edges. Like a king on his throne, pleased to have conquered a kingdom. The water still ripples around him after his reckless dive, and droplets slowly slide down his neck and chest.

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The rest... I'll save for the Soul ones.

Bite me, Arthur