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~Bodies in the sand, tropical drink melting in your hand
We’ll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band~
“Ok, let’s go through the checklist one last time, please.”
“Steven-,” Marc sighs knowing the battle’s already lost and gives in to his alter, “Ok, sure go ahead.” He really is whipped for this man.
“Sunblock?”
“Check.”
“Umbrella and towels?”
“Check, check.”
“Cooler?”
“Check.”
“Spades?”
“What, you gonna have us building sand castles or something?”
Steven pouts, eyebrows furrowed. On anyone else it might work but the expression on him is too adorable to look remotely threatening.
“Check, Steven,” Marc reiterates.
“Radio?”
“Check.”
“Ok I think that’s every- wait! I forgot the first aid kit!”
“Steven I don’t think- ” but Marc’s words are lost to the wind as the Brit is already running back towards the apartment. He shakes his head and turns to the car where Layla is already seated in the front adjusting her sunglasses in the mirror. Jake is restlessly drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in the driver’s seat, their windows rolled down to combat the heat.
“What the hell is the hold up now!? He forgot his arm floaties or something!?” grumbles the Latino, tone irate and impatient.
“Come on, you know how he is,” Marc reasons. “He barely goes out and after everything that’s happened to him, he just wants to make sure we’ll all be safe.” The other man mutters something under his breath in Spanish but doesn’t push it any further.
They sit quietly like that for several minutes.
“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Layla’s concerned voice breaks the silence. “This is his first outing since Cairo. I hope we’re not putting him under too much stress.” There’s a hint of guilt in her words and Marc feels it too. They’ve come so far since their ordeals and they deserve to have this trip - the four of them. Steven’s been cooped up in the apartment these days, only going to work or running errands. He’s worried the guy is regressing back to when his days were full of insecurities and self-doubt. Before he met Marc. The American runs a hand through his hair and leans against the passenger door.
“He’ll be fine. He needs this. I mean, we all do, but especially him. He’s been working so hard doing the tour guiding, and taking care of me and grumpy over there (Jake grunts). I just want to help him unwind a little and have a relaxing vacation. Even if it’s just a day trip to the beach.”
Marc knows how much Steven has been pulling his weight currently; seeing the Brit go to work, get them groceries, feed Gus and do the laundry even when he’s not been sleeping well at all due to his nightmares and insomnia. And he does it all without complaining, donning the same cheery smile he always wears. Marc doesn’t know how he does it. Steven’s more resilient than any man he knows.
Layla simply nods and reaches for Marc’s hand through the window, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. He smiles at her and bends down to place a kiss on her hand. It’s been a while since she took any time off from her duties as Tawaret’s avatar and he’s grateful to spend any moment she kindly graces them with.
A minute later, Steven is running back to the car; he’s slightly out of breath and there’s a small box under one arm and what looks to be a roll of toilet paper under the other. Marc raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “Sorry about that,” he huffs, “you can never be too careful though, yeah? What if there’s no loos and one of us really needs to go?” Marc is about to suggest they‘d just pee in the sea like everybody else before he’s interrupted by Jake.
“Does this mean we can finally go, ¡por el amor de Dios!”
Marc puts one hand on the passenger door. “Yeah, yeah keep your hair on we’re going. Come on Steven, in the back with me.” He waits for the other man to pop open the trunk and throw his things in, before he opens the door and lets him slide in first.
“Well, now that that’s settled. What should we play on the radio, loves?” Steven asks, buckling his seatbelt.
“I’m not listening to any more of that progressive jazz shit or musicals,” Jake says. “I don’t care what you say Stevie, it’s for nerds and geriatrics.”
“Yeah, it is getting a bit old Steven,” Marc agrees.
The Brit folds his arms and sulks. “You lot just don’t appreciate good taste. You agree with me, don’t you, Layla?”
She laughs, light and airy. “Don’t bring me into your squabbles. I don’t care what we listen to, it’ll be a welcome change from nothing but Egyptian pop music for weeks.”
Jake turns the dial a few times on the dashboard before settling on a station. It’s Heart 80’s FM. “My car, my rules,” he smirks, taking out a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment and putting them on before he turns on the ignition. The taxi sputters for a bit. It’s the biggest car they have and enough space to comfortably seat the four of them. He enters the coordinates on Google Maps for Camber Sands, Sussex and sets off towards the motorway.
~~~
It takes just over two hours until they reach their destination. They unpack all their equipment and head down some steps and past the pier. Once on the white sandy beach, they find a slightly secluded spot and set up; beach towels laid out, umbrella positioned, cooler to the side, sun cream at the ready. They’re already wearing their swimming costumes underneath their regular clothes so getting changed isn’t an issue.
Marc and Jake are the first to start changing, lifting up their t-shirts to reveal expanses of tanned, toned skin. Layla and Steven sit on their beach towels under the umbrella, deliberately staring. Both men’s bodies are ripped for the summer and their muscles twitch obscenely under the hot sun. Steven feels himself salivate and swallows.
Marc notices the pairs of eyes on him and smirks. “Like the view?”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it you’re both ridiculously, unfairly fit,” Steven rolls his eyes playfully. He’s wearing a pair of trunks adorned with little pink flamingos and decides to keep his long-sleeve summer shirt on, sleeves rolled up and buttons open to reveal his chest. His body is much softer compared to his other two alters as he doesn’t like to exercise much, but there’s still some muscle definition left over from his days as Mr. Knight. He’s also wearing a turquoise bucket hat and Marc can’t stop thinking how utterly adorable this man is. Not to mention enticing - he rarely sees Steven outside dressed in so little. It hasn’t slipped Jake’s notice either as he runs his eyes over the Brit seductively, beginning to undress him in his mind.
Layla also looks radiant. Her thick dark curls tied up in a loose ponytail. She’s wearing an all black one piece that accentuates her curves and shows off her toned arms and legs. On her feet are golden gladiator style sandals and to complete the look, she sports a beautiful black straw sun hat with gold trim. Several bracelets jangle on her wrists as she starts to apply the sunscreen to her skin and hands a second bottle to Marc.
Marc and Jake are quick to apply theirs. They’re lucky enough not to burn too much, skin already used to high temperatures. Marc chucks the bottle to Steven who shimmies off his shirt and pours a generous amount onto his hands, rubbing it all over his chest, arms and legs. Layla offers to help him with the areas he can’t reach on his back. He melts into the touch as she massages little circles into his tense shoulders and he thanks her when she’s done. Then he grabs one of their bags and starts searching for something.
“Marc love, did you remember to pack the factor 30+? I need it for my face and neck or I’m going to burn redder than a lobster.”
“Check the back pocket.”
Steven unzips the compartment and pulls out the stronger sunscreen. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the others’ ability to tan amazingly well in this heat. But he’s witnessed what happens to his body when he’s outside for too long in the sun with no protection and it’s not pretty. He starts to apply the cream to the more sensitive areas: his face, neck and shoulders. Layla grabs her sunglasses and a book from her bag. It’s the latest crime thriller and she’s eager to finish it before Steven accidentally spoils the ending for her.
Jake turns to Marc. “Whaddya say, Spector? First one in gets Steven all to themselves for a week.” He cocks his head towards the cerulean waves lapping the shore, smug grin plastered on his face.
“Oi! Don’t use me as a part of your silly games!” Steven objects.
Marc looks at the Brit and then back to Jake. “You’re on Lockley,” he accepts.
The two dash towards the sea leaving a whirlwind of sand in their wake.
Steven sighs and does his best to shake off the excess sand from his towel. Trust those two to go guns blazing the minute they get here. Did no one come here to relax except him and Layla? He hears a series of splashes and looks up to see Jake already raising his fists in triumph, no doubt gloating in Spanish. Marc is trying to dunk the Latino under the water as revenge; the sounds of their boyish antics carrying loudly across the beach. He reaches for the small portable radio to his right. “Do you mind if I have this on, Layla?” Music has been one of the few things that helps keep him calm recently but he doesn’t want to bother her if she’s trying to concentrate on her book.
“Sure,” Layla smiles at him. “I’m pretty good at blocking out noise - years of practice with Marc arguing whenever we went on any dangerous missions.” She goes back to her book and Steven finds his favourite chill-out station. There’s no words to any of the songs and he doesn’t have to think; letting the music lull him to a nice relaxed state. He stretches feeling the muscles under his shoulders ‘pop’ as he lays out on his towel and closes his eyes.
~~~
After a quick nap, he wakes up feeling refreshed. Layla is still stuck into her book and the other two are out of the water. Marc is busy burying Jake in the sand - a sight any onlooker would find utterly ridiculous as they’re two grown men - but Steven finds it oddly charming. He loves seeing them bond. Marc and Jake have always had a strong competitive streak that (usually) plays off well with one another and they’re not afraid to roughen each other up a bit. They always make sure to leave Steven out of their roughhousing, afraid they might damage him unless he explicitly asks to participate as well. He’s not that fragile after all, Steven thinks.
He decides now is the perfect time to put the spade he brought to good use. He sits on the edge of his towel and starts moulding the sand between his hands. It’s not long until he’s made three mounds; largest to the right, the middle one being of similar size and the smallest to the left. It’s not accurate in terms of placement but he wants them all together like this. He starts to pat the four sloping sides of each with his spade until they all form a point at the top. He pays extra attention to the largest; splitting its four sides in halves to show an eight-sided construction. He smooths the sides some more until he’s happy with the results and begins to start making three much smaller mounds in the same shape at the front.
Layla appears, leaning over his shoulder and hums approvingly. “Very nice reconstruction of the pyramids of Giza, you’ve got the satellite pyramids and everything.”
Steven blushes under the praise. “Well, they’re obviously not to scale.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she teases him.
“And there’s lots of details missing… I can still picture them vividly in my mind but it’s hard to translate into sand,” he sighs.
She chuckles and gently squeezes his middle. “I think they look great Steven. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He turns and lets himself be held, curling into her and suddenly he starts to tremble.
“I can still remember everything. All the amazing things that happened and all the horrible things too,” his voice comes out wet.
He recalls the stench of death and decay in damp, musty temples. The blood and gore of the innocents Harrow’s men killed and those they had killed in retaliation. The hot, dry desert under his feet. The sound of Khonshu’s bandages flailing against windswept dunes; deep guttural voice commanding them at every turn. The stars realigning like tiny jewels of light in the night sky. The feeling of being asphyxiated when he was stuck in the sarcophagus after being shot. The first embrace he ever had with Marc and the immediate rush of comfort and affection that came with it. The feeling of drowning in the cold, unforgiving sands of the Duat until the touch of a warm hand brought him back to life. It’s still too much. And even though it’s been months, he relives every moment as though it were fresh.
“I’m s- sorry,” he tearfully sobs into Layla as she hugs him tighter. “I don’t want to ruin our special day.”
She quietly rubs soothing circles onto his back and up his neck, feeling him relax a little. “It’s ok Steven. You’re not ruining anything,” she speaks softly. ‘I want you to take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that?” The Brit nods into her shoulder, the smell of her sweet perfume calming his nerves a little. He carefully sits up, eyes red and puffy. They spend a few minutes with Steven taking as many slow, deep breaths as he can until he feels more stable. She gives him a gentle squeeze. “Feeling better?”
“Y- yeah. Thanks love,” he replies, still a little shaky but grateful. And he really is grateful that she’s here. He’d originally had a bit of a crush on her but brought it down to his naivety and lack of experience. Their feelings now were platonic more than anything but they still cared for each other tremendously. She’d become an important friend and confidant, and they’d spend hours discussing Egyptology and her latest discoveries whenever they spoke.
In a flash, Marc appears. “Is he ok?” he mouths at Layla. She nods and Steven turns round to face him, causing Marc’s heart to drop to his stomach. He can tell his lover has been crying and he curses himself for not being there sooner, too caught up in his antics with Jake. Immediately he kneels in front of Steven, careful not to disturb the fragile pyramid sculptures, and holds out his arms beckoning him.
His alter climbs into his lap and strong arms wrap around him securely, holding him close. Marc lifts the bucket hat off his head and cards a hand through unruly hair as the Brit nestles into the firm chest as tight as he can, desperate for as much physical contact as possible. “I’m sorry Steven,” Marc says, laying kisses on his face, “I know you’re going through a lot right now. Just know that we’re here - I’m here.”
Steven can smell the Americans’ aftershave mixed with his musk and the salt from the sea and drinks him in; an immediate feeling of protectiveness and comfort enveloping him that he’s all too familiar with. Marc smells like home. And home is where he feels safest.
They stay like that for a few minutes with Layla still rubbing soothing circles onto his back before a familiar annoyed grunt breaks the peace. “Hey puta madre, you left me to dig myself out!” Jake glares at Marc before his eyes go to Steven and in seconds he’s pushing the other American away and holding Steven to himself in a hug so tight it’s crushing.
He’s covered in sand from neck to toe and smells like the sea, cigarettes, leather and spice but he doesn’t let go until his alter lightly pushes against his chest so he can breathe. Steven shuts his eyes as Jake grabs his face, kissing him on both of his cheeks and then on each eye, all whilst whispering words of adoration in Spanish.
When Steven opens his eyes again, he’s greeted by three pairs of concerned ones and his heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest and he has to hold back a sob. “I’m ok, guys. Really, I’m fine now,” he says and he tries giving them his best smile. He’s still feeling vulnerable but the shower of love and support from the people he cares about the most helps distract him from any lingering dark thoughts.
Jake hesitantly lets him go, protective instincts still going wild.
Marc opens the cooler and scrunches up his nose in disapproval. “Jake, what the fuck? You were supposed to pack this with food and drinks. Why is half the thing filled with nothing but beer!?”
The Latino frowns. “Hey, if you wanted to pack the cooler you could have done so yourself, pendejo. I didn’t see you offering at the time.” He reaches over an angry Marc and grabs a can of beer from the cooler, opening it and immediately downing it in one go.
Marc scowls but grabs one for himself, a can of diet coke for Layla and a non-alcoholic sweet cider for Steven as well as bottles of water for all of them. Then he grabs their sandwiches wrapped in clingfilm and hands them out.
They sit on their towels, eating and drinking and making casual conversation. The food seems to have given Steven a much needed energy boost and already he’s got some colour back on his cheeks. Jake wipes the crumbs from his trunks and stands up to grab another beer, (“there’s no way in hell you're driving us back,” Marc protests but Layla interjects and kindly offers to instead). He chugs it impressively fast before letting rip a burp so loud it makes a couple of the nearby seagulls fly away squawking in fright. Steven pulls a face in disgust.
“Charming, aren't you?”
“But you still love me, cariño.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m having second thoughts. I don’t appreciate that kind of crass behaviour.” He says half-heartedly.
“Hmm? That’s not what you were saying last night in bed, mi amor. I distinctly remember you screaming profanities and asking me to fuck you harder into the matress like a horny little princesa until you came.”
“JAKE!” The Brit's face is now a deep shade of scarlet, utterly mortified at the man’s complete lack of modesty. “Not in front of Layla!”
The Latino man shrugs. “I bet she doesn’t mind.”
“I assure you Steven, I only have your best interests at heart. Nothing I hear about your escapades in bed will sway my opinion of you,” she teases him.
“It’s true Steven. You do make a lot of demands and noise when we’re having sex,” Marc adds.
Steven groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “I can't believe the lot of you would gang up on me like this. Especially about something so private! Right tossers, all of you.”
Marc leans over to give him a quick peck on his check and ruffles his hair. “Yeah, but we’re you’re ‘tossers’ babe. And you’re stuck with us now.”
The Brit suddenly yelps as Jake grabs him from behind and tears off his shirt, tossing it onto the towel. In one fluid movement he’s lifting the other man into his arms, as though Steven weighs nothing, and carries him bridal style. “I think it’s time the princesa had a little swim, don’t you?”
“Jake, put me down you idiot! I’ve just eaten!” Steven flails in the Latino’s grasp but to no avail.
“Excuses excuses,” Jake tuts. “You wanted to come to the beach, sí? You’re gonna get the beach!” And with that, he starts running full pelt towards the sea with Steven clinging on for dear life and screaming like a girl.
“Should we go after them?” Layla asks, only mild concern in her voice.
“Nah.” Marc says, sliding next to her on her towel. “Jake’s got this. Besides, I haven’t spent much time with you,” He gently removes her sun hat and she offers him a sip from her coke which he graciously accepts. He slings one arm around her and starts stroking the soft skin of her arm with his thumb. She leans into his shoulder.
“Want me to read out loud to you from my book?” she asks, gently massaging the top of his leg.
“Yeah, I'd like that,” he replies, kissing her forehead softly.”
~~~
The waves lap around Jake’s strong calves where he stands, arms full of Steven. “Don’t drop me. Don’t you dare bloody drop me,” the British man moans, still clinging to him. “Bloody hell, I bet it's cold.”
“Relax, mi princesa. Let Jake take care of you for a while, sí?” Jake grins and starts to slowly walk his way further into the sea, careful not to drop his beloved cargo. When the waves reach just above his thighs he stops.
“Do you trust me Steven?”
“What?” The weight of Jake’s question bores heavily into Steven. He can feel the Latino’s warmth radiate off his chest in bounds; the close proximity of his heartbeat beating loud and strong and it makes him flush something pretty.
“I said, do you trust me?”
“Y- yeah I guess?” he pauses. “Yes Jake, of course I trust you.”
Jake gently crouches down, inching Steven into the water, little by little. Steven was right, it is cold and he hisses as his skin makes contact with the water. The sensation gradually begins to become more comfortable as his body adapts to the cool temperature.
Jake still holds onto him until he’s practically submerged Steven into the sea save for the man’s head. He tilts Steven slightly until the other man feels the back of his head touch the water so now he’s floating on his back. The Brit shuts his eyes and relaxes, letting the waves carry him and feeling weightless.
“See?” Says Jake as he lowers himself over Steven, careful not to let him sink any further. “It feels good doesn’t it?”
“Mmm yeah, yeah it does.”
Jake chuckles and moves in closing the distance between them. The kiss is salty from the sea but Steven reciprocates eagerly until he feels Jake pressing his tongue against his teeth, seeking access. He submits and the Latino suddenly shoves in his tongue greedily, one hand trying to grab every inch of Steven and the other supporting the back of his head so it stays just above the surface. He can feel Jake sneak a hand under his trunks and over the curve of his ass, squeezing the flesh obscenely and he chokes into their kiss. “W- wait, Jake. We’re in public.”
“It’s underwater,” Jake growls, possessive, before his lips are back on Steven - this time sucking the man's neck as his hand continues to massage his ass. It’s so plump and perfect, the Latino is having a hard time not tearing the trunks off the Brit and having his way with him right now.
Steven grips the muscular arms tightly; whimpering as he comes undone from his alter’s touch. It feels warm and cold at the same time because of their current position in the water. “P- please Jake. Not here. There's families around. I want to but- ngh I c- can’t- ” he begs, feeling entirely too self-aware their actions won’t go unnoticed.
Jake looks down at Steven whose face is a mess and pupils blown, droplets of water beginning to frame his long eyelashes. The man’s hair is wet and slicked back from the water but his eyes are wide and nervous and he’s trembling in his hands. Jake curses to Khonshu and back. “Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “Ok, ok. I got you cariño.” He pulls Steven gently up from the water until they’re face to face and both breathing rapidly. He presses their foreheads together. “Fuck, mi vida. You have no idea what you do to me.” He’s pretty sure they’re both sporting a boner now which he prays the cool temperature of the sea will help take care of.
Steven grabs Jake’s shoulders. His expression is one of gratitude and a hint of… playfulness? Jake thinks. “Oh I know too well, darling.” And Jake has no time to react before the Brit is pushing all of his weight down onto his shoulders and dunks him hard under the water.
“That’s for embarrassing me in front of Layla.”
Jake comes up for air but instead of being angry, he’s laughing. “Oh conejito, you have no idea what you’ve just done.” And now he’s chasing after Steven who’s trying his best to swim away. Jake, being the stronger swimmer catches up to him in no time, grabs him and this time lifts him clear out the water and above his head as Steven squirms and shrieks, before he tosses him unceremoniously back in. They’re full on splashing each other in fits of laughter by the time Marc and Layla approach them.
“We’re thinking of getting some ice cream and having a walk along the pier. Want to come?” Marc asks, noticing the little purple mark blossoming on Stevens’ neck, no doubt courtesy of Jake. The others nod eagerly and start to make their way back to the shore.
Layla hands them their towels to dry off and Marc gives Steven his shirt and hat back. When they’re dry and Steven's changed, they start to make their way down towards the pier passing several shallow rock pools. Marc holds Layla with one hand and Steven with the other. The Brit is rambling about the endemic life and ecosystems of Britain’s coast. Jake interjects saying they could try and find a fish for Gus to keep him company. Steven explains it won’t work because of the differences in saltwater and freshwater but gives the man a quick kiss on the cheek in appreciation of the kind suggestion.
The walk to the pier isn’t far. It's surprisingly not too busy save for a couple of families and a few groups of teenagers lounging around. They stand in line at the ice cream parlour and when they reach the counter it's Layla who insists on treating them. She hands them their ice cream: mint chocolate for Steven, double chocolate for Marc, salted caramel for herself and strawberry for Jake.
They sit on the edge of the pier, legs dangling in front of them as they eat their frozen treats and watch the sailing boats go by.
“Hey, do you think we could rent a jet ski?” Jake asks. Trust the adrenaline junkie.
“Mmm, I don’t think they have those in Sussex, love. You’d have to go more to Brighton or maybe Cornwall for something like that. There's supposed to be good surfing there too,” Steven replies, finishing the last few bites of his cone.
“Is that a sign you want to go on more beach trips?” Marc asks, eyes hopeful.
The other man pauses in thought, “yeah sure. I have been spending too much time in the flat lately and it’s good to get out of London once in a while. Maybe more than once in a while. I miss having adventures. Gosh that’s weird coming from me innit?”
Marc feels his chest swell with pride. This is progress as Steven rarely if ever talks about venturing out. He’s usually the one who lets Marc and Jake drag him to places. It seems that taking him out to the beach today has given the Brit a much needed boost in his confidence.
Jake just sees it as an absolute win ‘cause now he’s picturing himself with a cute Steven holding onto his back tightly as they tear through the water on a jet ski. Fuck yes to more beach trips he thinks. Hell, he’ll even put in overtime for the taxi company and Khonshu if it means getting to hang out more like this.
There's a little vendor nearby selling knick knacks and souvenirs that Steven wants to have a look at so he pulls Jake along leaving the other two to finish their ice cream.
Marc spots one of the families in the distance throwing a stick into the sea for their Labrador retriever. The dog jumps excitedly into the water and doggy paddles to collect it. It makes him feel a little nostalgic. “Did you know I used to have a dog growing up?” He says to Layla.
“I think I remember you mentioning it once,” she says, licking her ice cream.
“Yeah, he was a really cute thing. Drove my parents crazy with his obsessive barking but I loved the little guy all the same.” The memory is tinged with a bitter sweetness and he looks over to the retriever going back for a second time into the waves for the stick. “I miss having a dog.” He turns to her. “Do you think we should get one?”
She smiles at him, dark brown eyes warm and sympathetic. “Marc sweetie, you know there’s not enough room in that tiny apartment for the three of you as it is let alone with a dog.” She pauses to watch the dog drop its stick at its owner's legs, shaking the droplets of water from its fur. It barks once wagging its tail happily, eyes expressive and eager to please. “Besides, you already have Steven.”
Marc finishes his ice cream and looks at her in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. He is kinda like a big puppy isn’t he?”
They look at the man in question who’s busy trying to get Jake’s attention with the various assortment of objects on display. He’s so excited when he spots a bunch of ammonite fossils, rambling on about Britain's Jurassic coastline he doesn’t hear the vendor ask him politely if he’s actually planning on buying something. When he feels the vendor’s angry gaze upon him, he cocks his head to the side innocently.
“Oh my god, he really is!” laughs Layla.
~~~
When the sun is starting to set, its reflection on the waves a beautiful swirl of orange and rose gold, they agree it's a good time to start heading back. It’s almost dinner time, and Steven mutters something about not wanting to miss an episode of the Great British Bake Off.
Once they’ve collected their belongings and made their way back to the car, Steven reaches into a small paper bag and hands something to each of them. It’s a small woven bracelet with a shell adorned at the clasp. “To remind us of today, and for all your help,” he says shyly, “I don’t know what I'd do without any of you. Just know, I’m happy you’re all here and a part of my life.” He’s already starting to look a little teary eyed so they all circle around him and embrace in a group hug. It’s sandy, salty and sweaty and just what he needs.
They sit in the car with Layla at the wheel and Marc riding shotgun. Jake and Steven are in the back, Steven resting his head on Jake’s lap and legs stretched out comfortably. The Latino gently caresses the fluffy beach locks humming along to the music from the radio.
The sun is little more than a sliver of bright orange on the horizon as they begin their drive back to London.
~~~
The next day, Jake slaps Steven playfully on his lower back not expecting the man to emit a painful yelp. Despite his best efforts, the Brit managed to get himself sunburned.
That evening, he’s lying on the bed face down and miserable. Marc is there with the aloe vera, gently rubbing the cooling gel onto the poor man’s back as Jake stands guiltily at the foot of the bed, biting his lip.
"So… I take it no sex tonight, princesa?"
Steven immediately tosses a pillow at his face.