Vengeful Sun
Francis returned from the Carribean with bronzed skin, hair bleached by the sun, eyes seeming to mirror the ocean blue of his new colonies. He glowed beautifully, smiled cheerfully. Gorgeous.
Arthur returned with sunburns, fried red, his own eyes a more demure sea green that Francis complimented him on, despite the mismatch of it. He was miserable, and just twitching caused him agony.
Arthur groaned, unable to find a comfortable position as he lay on his stomach. Just looking at Francis made something flare inside him, and it wasn't just his atrocious sunburn.
Francis pushed open the door to the captain's quarters, as glorious as ever in a marine blue calico coat, no doubt shirts made of the finest muslin underneath. The blue went with his eyes, his skin. Arthur hissed like a cat, would have curled in on himself if not for the pain.
"Don't be like that, petit lapin. As usual those eyes of yours enchant me." Francis gave him the most charming smile, making Arthur drown in it. It wasn't fair. Francis had creamy milk white skin. Why had Arthur gotten burned?
"Get out of here, blasted baked frog." Arthur growled, turning away from him, clenching his teeth against the pain. Francis laughed, like silver bells and his eyes glittered like the ocean under the summer sun.
"In all truth, petit lapin, you're the one who is baked." And he laughed some more. Arthur huffed and noticed the bottle in Francis's browned hand. "I came to help." he announced simply, holding up the bottle. "Vinegar."
Arthur sighed, half hoping it had been rum. He tucked his arms under his red face, attributing the heat and the blush to the burn, and not to the flush that swept through him when Francis dropped his coat and straddled his hips.
The vinegar smelled sour, but was cool over his back, smarted a little before ending the pain. Francis worked his fingers over his shoulders, soft and cool. Arthur sighed in pleasure, felt Francis against his back, warm and erotic, his legs on either side of him, murmuring soft comforting words in French.
"I hate the sun." Arthur grumbled. Francis laughed, breathy and titillating, rolling off him to lay beside him on the pillows. The scarlet contrasted with his tanned skin, his flashing ocean blue eyes that seemed to swirl and change with the ocean itself. Francis was a tempest.
They snuggled closer, curled together, almost as they had when they were children. Francis had the smallest smile on his face, sweet and angelic, totally unlike a tempest. Arthur wondered if perhaps Francis was the sun that had burned him, and leaned closer, kissing his small smile.
"Vinegar." Francis whispered with a quiet laugh, kissing him back regardless. For a moment, Arthur adored the sun. The same sun that had scalded him. The same sun that had highlighted Francis's incomprehensible beauty.
Owari