Morning arrived with the slow creep of sunlight through the fronds overhead, painting Ethan’s beard gold where it lay pillowed on Alex’s bicep. The cooler’s ice had melted slightly, but the supplies inside were still cold. The labels of the water bottles beside it were peeling in the humidity.
Ethan’s leg tightened around Alex’s thigh before either fully woke, a reflexive claim. Alex grunted, rolling onto his back — only for Ethan to follow, slinging an arm across his chest like a living anchor.
“They left breakfast,” Alex muttered, his throat rough.
Ethan cracked one eye open, then buried his face against Alex’s ribs with a groan. “Fuck 'em.”
Alex’s laugh shook them both. He carded his fingers through Ethan’s tangled hair, scratching lightly at his scalp until the man melted heavier against him. The cooler sat untouched.
Ethan’s stomach growled. Loudly.
Alex smirked. “Liar.”
Ethan nipped his hip in retaliation, then pushed himself upright with a wince, stretching until his spine popped. “Fine. But you’re peeling the mangoes.”
Alex watched him shamble toward the cooler, the morning light gilding the scratch marks raked down his back. He licked his lips. “Or,” he drawled, “we could skip breakfast.”
Ethan paused. Turned. His grin was slow, dangerous.
The mangoes could wait.
Ethan crossed the moss in three strides, kneeling over Alex with a predatory grace that belied the tenderness in his touch. He cupped Alex’s jaw first, thumb brushing the stubble along his cheekbone, before leaning down to kiss him — slow, deep, tasting of sleep and salt. Alex sighed into it, hands settling on Ethan’s hips as their lips moved lazily, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matched the distant lap of waves.
Ethan’s mouth trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, pausing to lap at the hollow of his throat. He lingered there, breathing in the musk of their mingled sweat before sliding down Alex’s body, his tongue painting wet, meandering paths over his hairy pecs, circling each nipple until they stiffened under his attention. Alex arched into it, fingers threading through Ethan’s hair as the man worshipped his chest with unhurried devotion.
Lower still. Ethan nuzzled the coarse trail of hair leading to Alex’s cock, now thick and full against his stomach. He bypassed it deliberately, instead spreading Alex’s thighs wider to mouth at the sensitive skin of his inner legs, sucking gently at the tender flesh there. Alex’s breath hitched when Ethan’s tongue finally laved a slow stripe up his length, from root to tip, before swallowing him down in one smooth motion. Ethan took his time, bobbing his head with agonizing slowness, his lips sealed tight around Alex’s girth while his tongue swirled maddening circles beneath the crown.
Alex groaned when Ethan pulled off to kiss lower, his tongue dipping into the crease of his thigh before pressing hot and insistent against his hole. The first lick drew a shudder; the second, a broken curse as Ethan’s tongue worked him open with relentless precision, lapping at his entrance until Alex was writhing, his cock leaking onto his stomach. Only when Alex was gasping did Ethan finally slide a slick finger inside, crooking it just right to brush that electric spot that made his vision whiten.
Their coupling was slow, almost reverent — Ethan sheathing himself inch by torturous inch, their foreheads pressed together as they breathed each other in. When he finally began to move, it was with deep, rolling thrusts that dragged pleasure from Alex’s marrow, their bodies moving in perfect sync until neither could tell where one ended and the other began.
Release came like the tide: inevitable, all-consuming, leaving them tangled in the moss, sticky and sated and utterly spent. Ethan kissed the sweat from Alex’s temple, murmuring something about mangoes later. Much later.
Alex traced idle circles on Ethan’s back, fingertips skating over the ridge of his spine as their breathing slowed. The sun climbed higher, painting their bodies in fractured gold as it filtered through the swaying palms. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Ethan shifted, rolling onto his side to face him, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.
“Still with me?” Ethan murmured, fingers toying with the coarse hair on Alex’s chest.
Alex hummed, catching Ethan’s wrist to press a kiss to his palm. “Barely.”
Ethan’s grin deepened as Alex rolled them over, settling between his thighs with a slow, deliberate shift of his hips. Their cocks slid together, still slick from earlier, drawing a sigh from both of them. Alex leaned down, capturing Ethan’s mouth in a deep, languid kiss — no urgency, just the slow slide of tongues and the shared heat of their breath. His hands mapped Ethan’s chest, fingertips tracing the coarse curls before dipping lower, thumbs circling his nipples until they peaked under his touch.
He broke the kiss to mouth down Ethan’s sternum, pausing to lave at his navel, tongue dipping into the shallow hollow. Ethan arched beneath him, a quiet groan escaping as Alex nosed lower, burying his face in the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock. He inhaled deeply, musk and salt flooding his senses, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Ethan’s shaft. His tongue dragged upward in one long, wet stroke, savoring the way Ethan’s thighs tensed beneath his shoulders.
Alex took his time, licking and sucking with torturous patience — each pass of his lips deliberate, each flick of his tongue teasing. He swallowed Ethan down inch by inch, hollowing his cheeks around him, relishing the weight on his tongue. When he pulled off with a wet pop, he didn’t stop; he shifted lower, spreading Ethan’s thighs wider to lick a broad stripe over his perineum before circling his hole with the flat of his tongue.
Ethan’s hips jerked, a ragged “Fuck —” tearing from his throat as Alex pressed inside, tongue working him open with slow, relentless strokes.
By the time Alex slid back up Ethan’s body, they were both panting. He reached between them, guiding Ethan’s cock to his entrance with a steady hand. Their eyes locked as he sank down, taking him in one smooth, unhurried motion until their hips met. Alex rocked forward, grinding deep, his hands braced on Ethan’s chest as they moved together — a slow, rolling rhythm that built like the tide, each thrust drawing them closer to the edge without ever rushing the fall. Ethan’s hands gripped his waist, thumbs brushing the dip of his hips as their mouths found each other again, kisses messy and breathless now, tongues tangling in time with their bodies.
The heat between them was a living thing, thick and syrupy, wrapping around them like the island’s humid air. Alex could feel the moment Ethan’s control frayed — the way his fingers dug into his hips, the hitch in his breath against his lips. He chased it, rolling his hips harder, dragging a moan from Ethan’s throat as they tumbled over together, pleasure cresting in slow, rolling waves that left them trembling and spent, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.
"We should eat," Ethan murmured eventually, his fingers tracing lazy circles on Alex’s sweat-slick back, his breath warm against his collarbone. The words were half-hearted at best. The cooler sat untouched a few feet away, its contents growing warmer by the second.
Alex snorted, stretching beneath him with a satisfied groan. "You first." He couldn’t help the smirk when Ethan nipped his shoulder in retaliation, his beard rough against his skin.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled in the moss, the distant crash of waves the only sound beyond their breathing. Then, with a grunt, Ethan pushed himself up, stretching until his spine popped. Sunlight gilded the scratches on his back, the marks Alex had left earlier. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Alex’s stare, and grinned.
"Fine," he said, stepping over to the cooler with exaggerated care, his gait just shy of a swagger. He rummaged inside, tossing a wrapped sandwich onto the moss before pulling out two bottles of water. He twisted the cap off one, taking a long swig before tossing the other to Alex.
The water was lukewarm, but it did little to dampen the satisfaction curdling in Alex’s gut as he watched Ethan peel the wrapper off the sandwich with his teeth. The man ate like he did everything else — with single-minded focus, barely pausing to chew before taking another bite.
Alex smirked. "Hungry?"
Ethan paused mid-bite, his eyes narrowing. Then, deliberately, he lowered the sandwich, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Alex’s lips. "Starving," he murmured, before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his tongue flicking out to catch the last traces of salt there.
Alex laughed, shoving him away — half-hearted — as Ethan turned back to the cooler with a smirk. The metal hinges groaned when he flipped the lid wider, revealing rows of wax-paper packets, nestled between melting ice packs. Peeling one open revealed slices of chilled mango, the flesh glistening like amber in the morning light. Another yielded strips of cured meat, salty and rich, the fat marbled through it starting to soften in the heat.
Ethan tossed a mango slice into the air, catching it between his teeth with a flash of white. Juice dripped down his beard as he chewed, watching Alex with hooded eyes. "They packed rum," he said suddenly, pulling a slender flask from the depths of the cooler. The liquid inside sloshed, pale gold in the sunlight. "Cheap shit. Tourist-grade."
Alex snatched it from him, unscrewing the cap with his teeth. The scent hit him first — overripe pineapple, burnt sugar — before the alcohol seared his throat. He coughed, shoving the flask back into Ethan’s chest. "Told you. Cheap."
Ethan’s grin was wicked as he tipped the flask to his lips, swallowing without flinching. "Tastes better," he said, leaning in, "when you share it." His mouth was hot when it covered Alex’s, the rum between them syrupy-sweet, the bite of it dulled by the press of tongues. Alex groaned when Ethan pulled away, licking his lips. "Now try it."
Alex did. And — damn him — he was right.
The rum burned differently on Ethan’s tongue, tempered by the salt-sweet press of his lips. Alex chased the taste, licking into his mouth until the flask tipped forgotten onto the moss, its contents seeping into the earth between them. Ethan’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, until the last drops evaporated on their tongues and the only proof left was the slow, molten heat pooling in Alex’s gut.
They packed the cooler with the languid ease of men who knew time was irrelevant here, nestling it between the gnarled roots of a palm where the shade stretched longest. Ethan tested the lid twice — more out of habit than necessity — before straightening, his gaze skimming the tree line. “East or west first?”
Alex stretched, rolling his shoulders until the joints popped. “Surprise me.”
Ethan’s smirk was all the warning he got before the man took off, sprinting barefoot toward the shoreline, his laughter carried away by the wind. Alex cursed, giving chase, the sand hot beneath his feet, the surf licking at his ankles as they rounded the first bend. The island was small enough that the ocean never left their periphery — an ever-present murmur, sometimes a roar, as they traced its contours.
They discovered tide pools cupped in volcanic rock, their surfaces trembling with trapped seawater and the occasional flash of silver scales. Ethan crouched to skim his fingers through one, sending tiny crabs scuttling for cover. “Dinner,” he mused, glancing up at Alex with a grin that promised mischief.
Further on, the sand gave way to jagged black stone, forcing them to pick their way carefully, their soles toughening with each step. Ethan paused once, pointing to a cleft in the rock where the waves had carved a shallow grotto. The water inside was preternaturally still, mirror-clear, revealing a mosaic of sea glass and coral fragments beneath the surface. Alex dipped a hand in, surprised by the chill. “Too deep to stand,” he noted, watching the way the light fractured through his fingers.
Ethan’s shoulder brushed his as they moved on. “Next time.”
The words hung between them, unexamined, as they completed their circuit. The sun was high when they collapsed back onto the moss, their skin tingling with salt and sunburn. Ethan’s fingers found his without looking, their palms pressed together, sticky with sweat.
Alex turned his head, catching the way the light gilded Ethan’s profile. “Lunch first,” he murmured, “or —”
Ethan was already rolling atop him, his grin a promise. “Or.”
Alex let himself be pushed onto his back, moss cool beneath his shoulders as Ethan settled between his thighs. But this time, he reversed their momentum with a slow, insistent pressure — guiding Ethan onto his back instead, pinning him with the weight of his body and the heat in his gaze. He kissed him deeply, savoring the taste of mango and rum on Ethan’s tongue, before trailing his lips lower — down the column of his throat, the slope of his chest, pausing to lave at each nipple until Ethan arched beneath him with a shuddered breath.
Alex took his time worshipping Ethan’s body, his hands mapping the terrain of muscle and coarse hair, fingertips tracing the sensitive dip of his navel before dipping lower. He nuzzled the thick thatch at the base of Ethan’s cock, inhaling the musk of salt and sex, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of his shaft. His tongue dragged upward in one slow, wet stroke, relishing the way Ethan’s hips jerked involuntarily. He took him into his mouth without haste, hollowing his cheeks around his girth, savoring the weight on his tongue as he worked him with deep, deliberate sucks — each one drawing a breathy curse from Ethan’s lips.
When he finally pulled off, Ethan was panting, his cock glistening with spit. Alex didn’t stop — he slid lower, spreading Ethan’s thighs wider to press a slick finger against his entrance, circling slowly before pushing inside. He curled his finger just so, brushing against that sweet spot that made Ethan’s back bow off the moss with a ragged groan. He added another finger, scissoring gently, working him open with torturous patience until Ethan was writhing, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
Alex leaned over him, pressing their foreheads together as he withdrew his fingers. “Ready?” he murmured, guiding his cock to Ethan’s loosened hole with one steady hand. Ethan’s nod was barely more than a jerk of his chin, his eyes dark and fixed on Alex’s as the latter sank into him inch by inch, their exhales mingling in the humid air. The heat was unbearable, the tight clutch of Ethan’s body around him almost too much, but Alex didn’t rush — he sheathed himself fully, pausing to let them both adjust, his thumb stroking the sharp ridge of Ethan’s hipbone.
When he finally began to move, it was with slow, rolling thrusts, each one deeper than the last, each withdrawal a sweet torment. Ethan arched into it, his hands sliding up Alex’s sweat-slick back, fingers splaying between his shoulder blades as their bodies moved in perfect sync. Alex kept the pace achingly tender, angling his hips just right to drag against Ethan’s prostate with every push, drawing broken moans from his lips, each one swallowed by the press of their mouths together.
Their coupling was unhurried, a languid dance of flesh and breath and murmured words lost between kisses. Alex could feel the moment Ethan began to unravel beneath him — the way his thighs trembled, the way his fingers dug into his skin without urgency, just holding on as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter. He reached between them, wrapping his hand around Ethan’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts until Ethan came with a shuddering gasp, his hot sperm painting their stomachs in thick, white streaks. Alex followed moments later, his own climax crashing over him like a slow tide, spilling his seed into Ethan's bowels, with a groan muffled against his shoulder.
They stayed like that afterward, still joined, their breaths mingling as the sun painted gold across their tangled limbs. Ethan’s fingers traced idle patterns on Alex’s spine, his heartbeat steady beneath his palm. Neither spoke. There was no need.
Eventually, Alex’s softening cock slipped free, leaving Ethan’s hole slick and gaping slightly — just for a moment before muscle memory clenched him shut again. A shudder ran through Ethan’s body, subtle but unmistakable, and Alex chuckled low in his throat before rolling onto his back beside him, moss cool against his sweat-damp skin.
"If we're going to keep up this pace," Alex mused, stretching lazily, "we really should have some lunch before it gets too late in the day." His stomach growled as if on cue.
Ethan snorted, pushing himself upright with a wince — his muscles protested, well-used. "You mean you should," he countered, but he was already heading for the cooler, his gait loose-limbed and unhurried.
They rummaged through the contents together, shoulders brushing. Wax paper crinkled as they unwrapped sandwiches — soft bread, thin slices of cured meat, something green and crisp tucked inside. Ethan tossed him a packet of salted nuts, which Alex caught one-handed, tearing it open with his teeth.
Back on the moss, they ate in comfortable silence, trading bites of sandwich halves without discussion. Ethan licked mustard from his thumb, then stole a slice of mango from Alex’s portion with a smirk. The juice dripped down his chin, glistening, until Alex leaned in to lick it clean — slow, deliberate, his tongue dragging over stubble and soft skin.
Ethan’s breath hitched, but Alex pulled away with a grin, stretching out beside him. "Nap first," he murmured, closing his eyes, "then round five."
Ethan’s laugh rumbled through the moss as he settled beside him, close enough that their bodies aligned naturally, heat radiating between them. The ocean sighed in the distance. Overhead, a palm frond rustled. Alex felt Ethan’s fingers curl around his wrist — not pulling, just holding — as sleep crept in.
*****
Alex woke to Ethan’s thumb tracing idle circles on his sternum. The sun had shifted, painting stripes of gold across Ethan’s chest hair. For a while, neither spoke. The silence was easy.
"You ever think about getting a dog?" Ethan’s voice was rough with sleep, his fingers still moving absently.
Alex turned his head, squinting. "Is this a metaphor?"
Ethan grinned, unrepentant. "No. Just a dog." His palm flattened over Alex’s ribs. "Big one. Dumb as rocks. Sheds everywhere."
"Christ." Alex snorted. "You’ve planned this."
"Didn’t say my hypothetical dog." Ethan’s fingers drifted lower, tracing the trail of hair below Alex’s navel. "Though if we’re fantasizing —"
"— we’re not getting a dog together."
Ethan’s smirk was infuriating. "We?"
Alex kicked him halfheartedly. "Fuck off."
Ethan caught his ankle, yanking him closer until their legs tangled. "You’re right," he murmured, breath warm against Alex’s cheek. "Fish would be less commitment."
Alex groaned. "You’re impossible."
"And yet." Ethan kissed him, slow and lingering. "Here you are."
The truth of it settled between them, unspoken. Alex studied the flecks of green in Ethan’s hazel eyes, the way the fading sunlight caught the silver in his beard. "What’s your real name?"
Ethan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Your parents didn’t name you Ethan." Alex gestured vaguely at his chest. "Not with that crucifix tattoo."
Ethan’s laugh was startled, genuine. His thumb brushed the ink in question — a crude cross above his left pec. "Michael," he admitted after a beat. "But I left that behind when I left the seminary and came out."
Alex arched a brow. "You’re joking."
"Swear to God." Ethan’s grin turned wolfish. "Or don’t."
Alex exhaled through his nose. "Alex is short for —"
"— Alexander," Ethan finished, nodding. "Obvious."
"And wrong." Alex stretched, enjoying Ethan’s confused blink. "Aleksander. My grandmother was Polish."
Ethan stared. Then burst out laughing, rolling onto his back. "Jesus. We’re both frauds."
The waves answered. Neither corrected him.
Alex watched Ethan’s lips purse — not angry, just recalibrating. The crucifix glinted when he shifted onto his elbow. "Fine," he amended. "Tell me something true."
Sand gritted between Alex’s molars when he smirked. "I bite."
Ethan’s laugh was sharp, real. He palmed Alex’s thigh, thumb pressing the soft inner flesh where teeth marks still lingered. "Noted." His touch traveled higher, pausing at the crest of Alex’s hip. "Try again."
The moss smelled of crushed green and salt when Alex rolled atop him. He spoke against Ethan’s mouth: "I don’t share well." He proved it by sucking a hickey into his collarbone.
Ethan’s fingers tangled in his hair — not pulling, just holding. "Bullshit," he murmured. "You gave me half your sandwich."
Alex nipped his jaw. "That was tactical. You needed your strength."
Ethan’s hips arched, grinding their half-hard cocks together in a slow, filthy roll. "Admit it." His breath hitched when Alex’s teeth found his earlobe. "You’re a fucking romantic."
The confession came tangled in a groan as Alex reached between them, wrapping calloused fingers around them both. "Only," he panted, "for —" His rhythm stuttered when Ethan bucked into his grip. "— this. For you."
Truth hung thick as the humidity between their sweat-slicked chests. Ethan’s pulse jumped under Alex’s lips — not at the words, but the twist of his wrist, the thumb swiping precome across his slit. Their shared gasp drowned the gulls’ cries.
Lies were easier. Neither minded.
"Now it's your turn," Alex said, fingers tracing the scar on Ethan's — no, Michael's — left pectoral where the crucifix's horizontal bar ended in jagged ink. "What in your past do you feel comfortable sharing?"
Ethan caught his wrist, pressing Alex's palm flat over the tattoo. "I stole my first kiss from Father Donahue behind the sacristy curtains," he admitted. The old humor was there, but his thumb moved restlessly over Alex's knuckles. "Twelve years old. He tasted like communion wine and menthol cough drops." A pause. "Got expelled three weeks later when Sister Marguerite caught me jerking off in the confessional."
Alex snorted. "Holy shit."
"Almost literally." Ethan's grin faded as he studied their hands. "My parents sent me to conversion camp that summer. Lasted six days before I snapped a counselor's wrist for grabbing my dick during 'arousal aversion therapy.'" The moss rustled when he shrugged. "I ran away from home at sixteen. Worked truck stops until I could pass for eighteen. The rest ..." His fingers tightened briefly. "You probably can guess the rest."
Alex did. The underground wrestling circuits. The nameless hotel rooms. The way Ethan moved like a man who'd learned to take pleasure where he could get it, fast and fierce before it disappeared.
Ethan rolled onto him suddenly, pinning Alex's wrists beside his head. "Your turn," he murmured against his mouth. "One truth for one truth."
Alex exhaled through his nose. "I got arrested at nineteen for fucking at a public pool."
Ethan's laugh vibrated against his collarbone. "Romantic."
"In the lifeguard's chair," Alex amended. "With the lifeguard."
"Christ." Ethan nipped his jaw. "Tell me you —"
"— got community service scraping gum off park benches? Yeah." Alex arched into Ethan's weight. "It was worth it."
Ethan kissed him then — slow, deep, tasting of mango and the ghost of rum. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed Alex's lower lip. "Keep going."
Alex did.
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