In the living room, on Vic’s lap, Matt reached out to touch the new facial tattoo but his lover caught his hand. “Don’t,” he cautioned, pulling away. “It’s healing.”
“Why’s it all shiny?” Matt wanted to know. He raised his other hand, unconsciously reaching for it a second time, but Vic caught that one, too, and lowered Matt’s wrists until he held them against his chest. “Let me feel it.”
“Not yet.”
“Why’s it wet?” Matt asked.
Vic nodded at the end table, where a large jar of petroleum jelly sat, its rectangular lid not quite closed properly. With a laugh, Matt admitted, “And here I thought you just came prepared. That helps it heal?”
“Keeps infection out,” Vic explained. He turned his head as Matt leaned closer so he could get a better look.
It was hard to believe the dark ink was n
