Michael walking in on his right hand soaking in a warm buttermilk bath with rose petals and being attended to by a few Greys. They look so radiant and it’s been a long, dull day. Without sparing them a glance, Michael dismisses the servants who scuffle off, heads bowed, leaving him and his devoted alone. Michael ghosts his fingertips along one of their legs as he walks closer, then perches on the edge of the tub and leans in for a kiss

ritualmichael:

they would be so careful not to get him wet, knowing how particular he is about messing up his clothes. but seeing them in such a light and ethereal scene would make michaels hard demeanor falter so much

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