Fifty-seven goddamn minutes. Her selfish, spoilt, thrill-seeking husband is castled inside the damn bathroom for fifty-seven minutes and a half.
Byleth was about to burst in there and murder Sylvain. She loved him, Goddess knows she did, but Seiros' tits, the fact that he spent way too much time in the bathroom drove her crazy.
Perfection takes time, was his favourite excuse, a charming grin flashed her way whenever she reminded him that they only had one bathroom in their tiny, shared apartment. Besides, it could have been a good excuse, since he was clearly committed to always looking that good, but in reality, the walls were thin enough and they both knew that he spent most of his time singing with the hairdryer as his microphone or drawing smiley faces on his chest with the shaving cream.
Sure, getting his hair to look carefully messy, as if he had just woken up after a long night of torrid lovemaking, required both effort and time, and so did his religious manscaping routine, but nothing took Sylvain longer than acting like an irritating, absolutely adorable idiot who spent at least twenty minutes in the shower every time he so much as glanced at the bathroom door.
"Come on!" Byleth growled in annoyance, her cheek pressed against the door. She couldn't hear much over the blow-dryer's noise, but she was pretty sure those were Mittelfrank Reject's lyrics her blasted husband was humming along out of tune. "Sylvain, what the hell? You've been in there for almost an hour!"
She lets out an exasperated scoff and knocked once again, loudly and insistently, until the door burst open and she almost toppled and crashed against him.
"If you keep at it, you're gonna break down the door." Sylvain raised an eyebrow at her, the smugness of his hidden smirk as clear as day.
His self-assuredness when he caught Byleth's narrowed gaze flicker to his chest, quickly averting her eyes as his cheeks coloured. He knows that she wanted to chase the droplets of water running down his chiselled abs and disappearing against the cloth of the towel hanging oh-so-low around his hips, but she never got around to become comfortable around nudity, even with her lawfully-wedded husband.
Not that he is complaining. The way that she would look at him never got old, and he never feels insecure about her straying while working daily with handsome men at the gym. They had been together for almost 4 years, and yet she would still look at him the same way she had the first time they had met on that weird co-ed locker room. Appreciative, yes, and somewhat shy, but there was an almost reverential intensity to it as well, the kind one might see burning in the eyes of a believer when they gaze upon the divine.
He would argue that it was what happens when you gaze upon a soulmate as handsome as he is. His wife would say he is conceited.
Byleth cleared her throat, snapping her focus back to his face just so she could glare daggers at him. "Maybe I should break down the door if it would make you get ready faster."
"Faster?" Sylvain's eyes widened in studied faux confusion, the rich warm colour of them helping the cause ad giving him that innocent sweet look that always got him out of trouble. "Why, what's the rush?"
"Are you aware you're not the only person in the world?" Byleth scoffed as she injected as much sarcasm as she could in her words. "Nor are you alone in this apartment, for that matter. I need to wash my hair too, you know? I have a class in forty-five minutes and I refuse to shower at the locker room just so you can throw a little concert for the shampoo bottles."
The wide smile lighting up Sylvain's face was not at all promising. "Oh, I'm sorry baby! You always look so stunning, I just assumed you were already good to go."
Fuck. If the ego stroke did not work on her, his lowered, husky tone was sure going to. The way he 'absent-mindedly' shoves a hand through his wet hair as he leaned forward with a grin did nothing to help her stay mad.
"You know, gorgeous," Sylvain continued, and he was so close she could feel his hot breath against her lips, setting them alight and making her light-headed. "Next time you could just join me. I get lonely in the shower."
Byleth did not know whether she wanted to strangle him or kiss every inch of him. All she knew was, all the irritation was gone, leaving space for frustrated want.
"Dammit." The curse slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
Sylvain cocked his head to the side, an amused question written all over his face.
Byleth huffed a short sigh. "You smell really nice."
The sudden burst of laughter would have made her flinch if she had not gotten distracted by the pretty sight of his exposed neck as he threw his head back in hilarity. His skin gleamed like David of Michelangelo.
The sound of his laugh died at once when she pressed her lips against his pulse, and she tasted the pleased groan that followed reverberating through his throat.
The kiss right after was not proper, too messy to be careful with teeth clicking and lips swollen from all the bites. Byleth had to cling to Sylvain's neck to reach him, standing on the tips of her toes as he hunched down to swallow her moans, fingers raking frantically through her dark curls.
He broke the kiss after a long moment but did not pull away, whispering his words against her mouth.
"What do you say we get in there together and I help you get cleaned up?"
"On one condition." Her voice was as shaky as his, breathless, her chest rising and falling fast to chase the sizzling air around them. "Don't stop playing with my hair."
A flash of something crossed Sylvain's darkened gaze. "As you wish, ma'am."