Make it Better

by Jane Davitt

Scarlet skin, radiating heat…Jim can almost see it, hovering over Blair's skin like a mirage. He smoothes on aloe vera, dousing the flames, and ignores Blair's yelp of protest that it feels cold.
God, it's like touching the sun safely, and he loses himself in the way the gel melts against that blaze, thinning second by second, so that the barrier between his hand and Blair's skin soon dissipates. Over and over, his hand strokes, so gently now, over that stinging, tingling skin.

"So have you learned your lesson?"

Blair only sighs by way of reply and Jim administers a reproving prod to Blair's ribs.



"God, you're such a -- I've learned my lesson, okay?" Blair says, turning his head to scowl up at Jim, who meets the accusing glare calmly. "No falling asleep when I sunbathe."

Jim nods, accepting that, and lets his hand go lower, his fingers, slick with gel, sliding between cheeks his hand, not the sun, painted red that morning. Blair grunts, a grumbled, grudging sound -- why he's pissed with Jim is a mystery, but somehow his sunburn is all Jim's fault -- and spreads his legs wider, pushes his ass up.

"More," he demands. "Put them in me."

Jim chuckles and brings his hand down just once on that steaming, sizzling ass, before doing as he's told.

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