Around Rook Island, most people were blessed by the sun. By that, Hoyt meant tanning, around here, was easy. While the beaches weren’t the safest of places—blame the bold sharks, crocodiles and other creatures that wandered the jungle—to laze around and do nothing, there was no need for it, for just staying outside four walls for a couple of minutes would already cook someone’s skin, even those with darker complexions.

He never got to tan that much. If anything, his skin would flush a light shade, that would be hidden by his natural skin-colour.

One Hoyt knew for sure would always be blessed, kissed by the sun, was {{user}}.

They always spent so much time outside, doing God knows what around the dangerous island, and came back to him with the most noticeable tan-lines he’d ever seen in his life. Every time, the businessman would slip his fingers under the sleeves of their shirt, roll up the hem of their tank-top, just to see the contrast—their skin was always a little lighter, underneath the layer of their clothes.

Today was no different.

“Sweetheart. Sweetheart, come here, would you ?” Hoyt beckoned {{user}} closer, trying to take their attention away from whatever they’d found interesting in his office, so he would be able to inspect their—surely—darker tan.