In a world where having a psychic gift of some sort is the norm, some gifts can still be dangerous. Jere’s slave-turned-boyfriend, Wren, has a secret powerful gift as a firestarter, which brings them risky but exciting opportunities to “play with fire.” A picnic lunch and some wet weather provide a perfect chance for Jere and Wren to explore. (M/M)
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“Nobody else around,” Jere promised him, running his hands over Wren’s body. “It’s Sunday, remember? Our day off?”
“Slaves don’t get days off,” Wren reminded him, but he relaxed into Jere’s touch, considering the option. “Neither do doctors.”
“We rarely get emergencies, and if we do, we’ll deal with it,” Jere reminded him. “Are you okay staying out here a little longer? You don’t have to, if you’re uncomfortable.”
Wren shook his head. “No—I mean, yes, I’m okay out here. We don’t have to go inside. Just keep touching me.”
Jere was happy to comply. He and Wren touched each other playfully, slowly, building up the excitement and heat between them. The blazing sun combined with the excitement, and Jere didn’t want to deal with the heat anymore. He stripped his shirt off.
“Much better,” he decided.
Wren gave him a curious look. “Would you really be comfortable out here without any clothes on?”
Jere laughed. “Completely,” he admitted. “It’s getting a little cloudy, so I probably won’t get sunburned, and there aren’t many bugs out today.”
“I meant… I mean, what if someone sees you?”
Jere smiled, reaching out to run a hand down Wren’s arm, soothing him. “Even if we do get an emergency client, which only happens every other month or so, they’ll wait in the clinic and contact me through mindspeak. They wouldn’t come into our back yard, just like they wouldn’t come into our living room.”
Wren considered it. “All right,” he conceded. “But if they do?”
“Then it will be their lucky day.” Grinning, Jere shed his pants as well, stretching out completely naked on the blanket next to Wren. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. “Perfect.”
Wren didn’t comment, but he looked over Jere’s body possessively. Jere didn’t mind the appreciative gaze, and he smiled when Wren reached out to him, tentatively running his fingers through Jere’s hair. Wren continued, the lightest touches tracing down Jere’s cheek, his lips brushing against Jere’s neck. The sensation of Wren’s fingers and lips on his skin, in contrast with the breeze that had picked up, made Jere shudder. It was like a thousand hands were touching him, priming his skin for the moment Wren’s hands made contact with the rest of his body.
It wasn’t long before that actually happened; a light touch across his chest, trailing down across his body, admiring each sensation. Jere lay there and enjoyed it, feeling no pressure to move too quickly or demand anything else from his boyfriend. Wren could touch him as he wanted to, as quickly or slowly, and Jere knew he would like it.