Ethan's villa door hung ajar when Alex arrived, revealing a freshly made bed and the distinct absence of luggage. A rumble came from the bathroom — not the shower, but the deep cadence of Ethan humming some wrestling anthem off-key. Steam curled around the doorway as Alex nudged it open with his shoulder.
Ethan stood at the sink, shirtless and dripping, dragging a razor down his jawline with surprising precision for a man whose hands usually preferred brutality over finesse. The mirror reflected his raised eyebrow when Alex's gaze dropped to the towel slung low on his hips. "Took you long enough," he muttered around the blade between his teeth.
Alex leaned against the doorframe, watching water droplets trail through the dense hair on Ethan's chest. "Checkout was busy. And I had to traumatize the gardener properly." The humid air clung to his freshly showered skin as he stepped closer, catching the scent of Ethan's sandalwood shaving cream mixed with something muskier beneath.
Ethan dropped the razor in the sink and wiped his jaw with the back of his hand. "Hope you got pictures. That'll be my new locker room wallpaper." His smirk faltered when Alex's fingers hooked into his towel, tugging until the terrycloth slithered to the tile floor with a wet slap.
Alex stepped into the steam, kneeing Ethan's thighs apart to bracket himself against the sink. The porcelain was cold against his palms compared to Ethan's overheated skin. "I thought you were in a hurry," he murmured, watching Ethan's cock twitch against his thigh. The wrestler's breath hitched when Alex dragged a fingernail down his happy trail, following the dark path of hair until his knuckles brushed flushed skin.
Ethan's hands clamped around Alex's hips, thumbs digging into the fresh bruises under his waistband. "You're gonna make us miss the fucking ferry," he growled, though his hips pressed forward of their own accord. Shaving cream smeared across Alex's collarbone where Ethan licked a stripe upward, sharp mint giving way to salt and sweat.
Alex's laugh hitched into a gasp when Ethan's teeth scraped his earlobe. "The ferry doesn't leave for — Christ! —" His fingers tangled in Ethan's chest hair as the wrestler dropped to his knees without warning. The bathroom tiles were hard under Alex's bare feet, steam condensing on his thighs where Ethan's breath hit overheated skin.
Ethan's palm slid up Alex's inner thigh, callouses catching on sensitive flesh. "Time check," he murmured against Alex's hipbone before sinking his teeth in. The sharp sting made Alex's cock jerk against Ethan's forehead, smearing pre-cum through damp chestnut hair. Outside, poolside laughter drifted through the open window, mingling with the slick sound of Ethan's spit-slicked thumb circling Alex's entrance.
Alex braced against the sink as Ethan's tongue replaced his fingers — broad, flat strokes that had his thighs trembling within seconds. The mirror fogged completely when Ethan hummed against him, the vibration traveling straight to Alex's spine. "Ferry —" Alex choked out, fingers twisting in Ethan's hair hard enough to make the wrestler groan.
Ethan's hands slid under Alex's thighs, lifting him onto the counter with effortless strength. Shaving cream tubes clattered into the sink as he wedged himself between Alex's spread legs. "Still got twenty minutes," he muttered before swallowing Alex down to the root in one smooth motion.
Alex's back arched against the fogged mirror, his hips jerking involuntarily into that wet heat. Ethan's nose pressed against his pubic bone, breath hitching through flared nostrils as he worked his throat around Alex's cock with practiced ease. The vibrations of his groan made Alex's toes curl against the tile.
A distant door slammed somewhere in the resort complex. Ethan's fingers dug into Alex's thighs, holding him still as he pulled off with a filthy pop. "Hear that?" he rasped, thumb swiping across Alex's leaking slit. "Housekeeping's doing rounds." His tongue followed the same path, hot and demanding. Alex's hips bucked despite the iron grip restraining him.
The faucet dripped onto Ethan's shoulder as he repositioned, his stubble scraping Alex's inner thighs raw. Someone's radio crackled outside — too close — followed by muffled Spanish and the jingle of master keys. Ethan's chuckle vibrated against Alex's balls. "Bet she's got master keys to more than just doors," he murmured before sucking a hickey into the tender skin.
Alex's heel dug into the small of Ethan's back when the housekeeper's cart squeaked past their villa. Ethan pressed two fingers against Alex's lips. "Quiet," he ordered, though his own breathing was ragged. The radio static peaked right outside their door, followed by a tentative knock. Ethan's tongue swirled around Alex's cockhead, his free hand groping blindly for a towel to throw at the locked bathroom door.
The knock came again — louder. "Señor? Your checkout time —" The housekeeper's voice cut off abruptly when Ethan's suction pulled a punched-out groan from Alex's throat. Alex clamped his teeth around Ethan's fingers to muffle himself, tasting salt and sandalwood as the wrestler worked him ruthlessly. Outside, the cart wheels squeaked backward in haste.
Ethan smirked up at him, lips glistening, and deliberately dragged his tongue along Alex's straining vein one last time before releasing him with a wet pop. "Change of plans," he growled, hauling Alex off the counter by his hips. The mirror squeaked when Alex's sweaty back hit it, steam condensing in rivulets between his shoulder blades.
Outside, hurried footsteps retreated across the villa's wooden deck. Ethan pressed forward, his erection digging into Alex's thigh as he fumbled blindly for the shower controls. The sudden spray hit them both ice-cold. Alex yelped, twisting instinctively into Ethan's heat while the wrestler laughed against his throat. Water sluiced between their bodies in torrents, diluting the shaving cream still smeared across Alex's chest into foamy trails.
"You should've —" Ethan bit at Alex's collarbone, hands sliding down to grip his ass, "— seen her face when you moaned." The shower's temperature evened out to lukewarm as he backed Alex against the tiled wall, pinning him with the full weight of his dripping body. Their cocks slid together in the water's slick friction, Ethan's thicker shaft rutting against Alex's with enough pressure to make them both shudder.
Alex hooked a leg around Ethan's waist, fingers digging into his shoulders where the muscle flexed. "You're paying the late checkout fee," he gasped, head thudding against the tiles when Ethan's hips snapped forward. The wrestler's chuckle was dark, swallowed against Alex's mouth as he licked inside without preamble — tongue heavy with possession, tasting mint and the remnants of his own spend from earlier.
The shower head pulsed against their shoulders, water sluicing down Ethan's back in rivulets that pooled where their bodies met. Alex arched into him, hissing when the cold tile contrasted with Ethan's searing skin. "Fucking — move," he demanded, nails scoring down Ethan's spine hard enough to leave marks. The wrestler growled, shifting his grip to hitch Alex higher against the wall, the new angle making their cocks slide together in a slick, maddening friction.
Outside the villa, the housekeeper's cart rattled away at speed, wheels squeaking over wet pavement. Ethan bit down on Alex's pectoral in retaliation, the sharp sting making Alex's hips jerk. "You wanted a show," he rasped, dragging his teeth upward until they caught on a nipple. The spray hit Alex's face when he threw his head back, water stinging his nostrils as Ethan's calloused thumb found his perineum, pressing insistently.
Alex's thighs trembled around Ethan's waist, their combined weight making the shower's glass panel creak ominously. "We're gonna break their fucking bathroom," he gasped, clawing at Ethan's shoulders as the wrestler ground forward relentlessly. The water turned abruptly scalding — Ethan's elbow must've hit the tap — but neither pulled away, steam rising in thick swirls around their entwined bodies.
Ethan's teeth found Alex's earlobe, worrying the flesh between them as his blunt fingers dug into the meat of Alex's ass. "Hold on," he growled against wet skin, adjusting his stance to drive his cock harder against Alex's. The mirror fogged completely now, their reflections erased by condensation dripping in thick streaks.
Alex gasped when Ethan's grip shifted — one hand sliding between them to jerk them both in rough, twisting strokes while the other braced against the shower wall. Water sluiced over their joined fists, diluting the pre-cum leaking from their tips into slick rivulets that vanished down the drain.
The shower's glass door rattled with Ethan's thrusts, condensation-streaked enough to blur the villa beyond. Alex's nails scraped down Ethan's bicep as the wrestler's rhythm faltered, his breath coming in sharp bursts against Alex's throat. "Watch," Ethan ordered hoarsely, tightening his grip until Alex's vision whited out momentarily.
Their mixed fluids swirled at their feet, foaming briefly before vanishing down the drain. Ethan's thumb pressed cruelly against Alex's frenulum on every upstroke, coaxing ragged noises that echoed off the tiles. The shower's spray turned lukewarm, doing nothing to cool the heat radiating between their bodies.
Alex's calf muscle twitched violently where it hooked over Ethan's hip, his toes curling against wet skin as the wrestler's grip tightened. "Fuck —" he gasped, his forehead knocking against Ethan's when another brutal twist of his wrist sent lightning up his spine.
Ethan growled low in his throat, watching Alex's cock pulse against his palm. "Look at you," he muttered, smearing pre-cum across both their midriffs. The shower's spray plastered his chest hair flat, water dripping from his beard onto Alex's collarbone.
Alex shuddered when Ethan thumbed his slit, the calloused pad catching on hypersensitive flesh. His hips jerked forward involuntarily — once, twice — before Ethan pinned him harder against the tiles. "Still so fucking greedy," Ethan rasped, sucking Alex's shoulder as his grip tightened.
The mirror fogged completely behind Alex's head, condensation dripping onto his nape in cold streaks. Ethan's laugh vibrated against Alex's sternum when he flinched, the water turning icy again.
Alex dug his fingers into Ethan's trapezius. "Scared you'll crack the tiles with that Neanderthal skull." The insult dissolved into a gasp when Ethan's free hand slid between them, thumb circling his hole with just enough pressure to make his knees buckle.
The wrestler smirked against his throat. "Tell me to stop." Water sluiced between them, carrying Alex's choked moan down the drain. Ethan's lips brushed Alex's jugular as his finger breached him, the stretch burning through the shower's sudden chill.
Alex clenched around the intrusion, thighs shaking where they gripped Ethan's waist. "Move —" His voice cracked when Ethan twisted, callouses scraping inside him. The wrestler laughed low, using Alex's shoulders as leverage to thrust deeper. Tiles cracked behind Alex's head.
Ethan's wrist flexed, fingers curling against Alex's prostate with brutal precision. "Fuck —" Alex arched off the wall, his cock pulsing untouched between them. Outside, the ferry's horn blared across the bay — three short blasts. They'd be boarding soon. Ethan redoubled his efforts, hips pistoning against Alex's thigh while his fingers scissored mercilessly.
The shower door's hinges groaned as Alex braced against it. Ethan's beard scraped wet skin on Alex's collarbone. "Come," he demanded against flushed flesh. "Now." His thumb pressed punishing circles below Alex's balls while the ferry horn sounded again — closer now, vibrating through the villa's thin walls.
Alex's orgasm ripped through him violently, his shout muffled against Ethan's shoulder as ropes of cum striped between their stomachs. Ethan followed with a deep groan, his fingers still working inside Alex while his cock pulsed against Alex's thigh in thick spurts that mixed with the shower spray. "Fuck," he rasped as his hips stuttered through the last tremors.
The ferry horn blared again — long and impatient — just as Ethan pulled his fingers free with a wet sound. Alex's legs nearly gave out when his feet hit the tiles. Ethan caught him by the elbow, his grip firm despite the water sluicing between them. "Move," he ordered, swiping a towel from the rack with his free hand. The terrycloth rasped against Alex's oversensitive skin, the rough fibers dragging along his spent cock just enough to make him hiss.
Ethan's drying technique was more efficient than gentle, rubbing Alex down like he was buffing a wrestling trophy before tossing the damp towel at his head. Steam still curled around the bathroom mirror when Ethan shouldered past, dripping onto the mosaic floor as he dug through his abandoned gym bag. Alex blinked water from his lashes, watching Ethan's muscles flex under a sheen of residual wetness as he yanked on briefs that clung to his thighs.
The ferry horn blared again — closer now, rattling the bathroom's frosted window. Alex fumbled with his own towel, catching Ethan's smirk when his foot slid on a puddle of their mixed fluids. "Tick tock, princess," Ethan taunted, snapping the waistband of his briefs against Alex's hip as he strode past. His damp footprints led toward the bedroom where their hastily packed luggage sat by the door.
Alex followed, still dripping, watching Ethan's shoulder muscles ripple as he jammed toiletries into an overstuffed duffel. A condom wrapper fluttered to the floor, the last remnant of their villa's inventory. Ethan stepped on it deliberately, grinding the foil into the tile with his bare heel before tossing Alex a rumpled t-shirt. "Wear this," he ordered. The fabric smelled like sex and Ethan's deodorant.
Outside, ferry attendants shouted boarding calls, their voices carrying across the palm-fronded walkway. Alex dragged the shirt over his head just as Ethan shoved damp swim trunks into his hands, still warm from the wrestler's body heat. The waistband snapped against Alex's hips when Ethan yanked him close by the belt loops. "Forgot these," he growled against Alex's mouth, their kiss tasting of chlorine and cum.
Alex's fingers tangled in Ethan's dripping chest hair as the wrestler backed him toward the balcony door. The afternoon sun glared off the tiles where the gardener had orgasmed hours earlier — now just a dark stain near the railing. Ethan's teeth grazed Alex's earlobe. "Next time," he murmured, thumb hooking in Alex's waistband to tug him flush against his thigh, "I'm making you ride me where the whole marina can see."
The ferry's final boarding horn cut through Alex's retort, vibrating the sliding glass door against his bare shoulder blades. Ethan's palm slid between them, callouses catching on the cotton clinging to Alex's abs as he palmed himself through damp briefs. "You're gonna jerk off thinking about this all flight," he stated more than asked, watching Alex's throat work when the gardener's pruning shears clicked rhythmically from the hibiscus bushes below.
Alex shoved Ethan backward just enough to step into his shorts — his legs still shaky — catching the wrestler's smirk when the fabric dragged over his oversensitive cock. Ethan's phone buzzed against the nightstand with their Uber notification while he stuffed the last of their toiletries into the duffel, deliberately leaving the broken shower knob exposed.
The gardener's shadow moved between hibiscus leaves as they hauled their luggage out, Ethan's laugh low when the man's pruning shears faltered at the sight of Alex's towel-damp hair. "Forgot your sunscreen," Ethan taunted, tossing the half-empty bottle toward the bushes. It landed with a rustle that sent the gardener scrambling back, his sandals kicking up mulch.
Alex shouldered the duffel, watching Ethan's biceps flex as he adjusted the strap. The wrestler's shorts clung to his thighs where shower water hadn't dried, fabric darkening along the crease of his groin. A bead of moisture slid down Ethan's inner thigh; Alex tracked its progress until Ethan caught his chin with two fingers. "Eyes on the road, princess." His thumb swiped roughly across Alex's lower lip.
The resort pathway shimmered with midday heat, their flip-flops slapping against wet tiles still steaming from recent hose-downs. "So much for stealth," Alex muttered when their luggage wheels left twin tracks through a puddle, his calf muscle twitching where Ethan's teeth had marked him earlier. The wrestler scoffed, deliberately steering his suitcase through another water patch so droplets sprayed the back of Alex's knees.
Ahead, crew members in crisp white uniforms clustered at the dock, clipboards snapping in the salt-heavy breeze. Ethan's fingers brushed the small of Alex's back — light enough to seem accidental — as they approached the gangway. "Passports," he murmured, lips barely moving. The attendant's gaze lingered on their matching sunburns, the way Alex's shirt collar gaped where Ethan had torn a button during their first round in the villa bedroom.
Alex fumbled with his wallet, fingers catching on the condom wrapper he'd forgotten to discard. Ethan's knee pressed against his thigh as they shuffled forward in line, the heat between them incongruous with the ferry's industrial chill. Ethan's chuckle ghosted across Alex's nape, his palm sliding possessively over Alex's hip when the line jostled them closer together.
The attendant's eyes flicked between their passports, then down to Alex's untied shoelaces, still damp from their hurried shower. Ethan leaned in, his chest brushing Alex's shoulder. "Lost a button," he remarked casually, plucking at Alex's collar where the missing button exposed a fresh hickey. The attendant's pen hesitated over the passenger manifest.
Alex swallowed the groan threatening to escape when Ethan's thumb found the waistband of his shorts, callouses scraping skin still sensitive from their bathroom antics. Behind them, a deckhand cursed as someone's suitcase tipped into the water. Ethan used the distraction to slip two fingers beneath Alex's waistband, pressing hard enough to make his knees lock. "Problem?" Ethan murmured to the attendant, his tone dripping faux concern.
The attendant's pen scratched across paperwork while Alex's pulse pounded in his throat. Ethan's knuckles ground against his hipbone — just shy of painful — as the ferry engines rumbled to life beneath their feet. The vibration traveled up Alex's spine, mingling with the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through him. He clenched his jaw when Ethan's fingers dipped lower, tracing the crease where thigh met groin.
"Welcome aboard," the attendant muttered without eye contact, stamping their boarding passes with unnecessary force. Ethan withdrew his hand slowly, dragging his thumbnail across the sensitive skin beneath Alex's waistband in farewell.
The ferry's diesel engines vibrated through the deck plates as they stepped into the shaded cabin, the sudden indoor darkness making Alex blink away sunspots. Ethan shouldered past a group of elderly tourists to claim two seats near the emergency exit — strategically isolated but with a clear sightline to the rest of the passengers. He sprawled immediately, knees splayed wide enough that Alex had to angle his legs to avoid contact.
A stewardess announced departure over crackling speakers just as Ethan's forearm brushed against Alex's. Deliberate. The wrestler stared straight ahead at the safety demonstration screen while his fingers trailed down to Alex's wrist, tracing the tendon there with a touch lighter than the breeze through the open portholes. Alex exhaled sharply through his nose, watching Ethan's thumb press into his pulse point hard enough to leave temporary divots in his skin.
The ferry lurched away from the dock, sending a champagne flute clinking across the bar top. Ethan's grip tightened — not restraining, just present — as he finally turned his head. His beard scraped Alex's temple when he murmured, "Bet you twenty bucks the gardener's jacking off in the storage closet right now." The crassness shouldn't have sent heat pooling low in Alex's gut, but Ethan's knee pressing between his thighs under the pretense of adjusting his stance certainly did.
Salt spray misted through the open deck doors, mingling with the scent of diesel and Ethan's aftershave. The ferry sliced through turquoise water so clear Alex could see stingrays gliding beneath the hull. Ethan's fingers drummed against his thigh in a rhythm that matched the engine's thrum — restless even in stillness. He caught Alex staring and smirked, thumb hooking in his own waistband to tug the fabric taut over his hardening cock.
Disembarking was a blur of jostling passengers and shouted instructions. Ethan shouldered their duffel with one hand while the other pressed possessively between Alex's shoulder blades, steering him past a cluster of selfie-stick-wielding tourists. His palm slid lower when they hit the dock's uneven planks, fingers dipping beneath Alex's waistband to graze the top of his cleft — a fleeting touch disguised as balance assistance.
The ferry's diesel fumes clung to their skin longer than the island's salt spray. Ethan inhaled deeply as they cleared the gangway, his nostrils flaring at the competing scents of fried food from the harbor cafes and the musk rising from Alex's sun-warmed shirt. He adjusted the duffel strap digging into his shoulder, using the motion to brush his erection against Alex's hip. "The taxi stand's that way," he murmured, lips barely moving as he pointed.
Alex's fingers twitched toward his own crotch — an aborted adjustment — when a passing family with strollers forced them closer together. Ethan smirked at the way Alex's throat worked when their forearms pressed together, sweat and residual sunscreen making their skin stick. He waited until they rounded a stack of lobster traps before gripping Alex's belt loop to yank him sideways into a narrow alley between two fish markets.
The sudden shade smelled of rotting seaweed and engine grease. Ethan pinned Alex against a corrugated metal wall still warm from the afternoon sun, his thigh slotting between Alex's legs before the smaller man could protest. "You've been squirming since the gangway," he growled, scraping his teeth along Alex's jawline. Behind them, a delivery truck's reverse alarm beeped in time with Alex's accelerating pulse.
Alex shoved against Ethan's shoulders, his palms slipping on sweat-damp skin. "Christ, give me five fucking minutes where you're not —" The wrestler's palm clapped over his mouth, muffling the rest as footsteps approached from the market side. Ethan's hips rolled forward in slow, obscene circles until Alex bit his thumb hard enough to taste blood.
The footsteps passed. Ethan licked the bite mark with a pointed swipe of his tongue. "Liar," he murmured, dragging Alex's shorts down just far enough to expose the angry red chafing marks from their shower. His fingernail scraped the tender skin beneath Alex's balls, drawing a hiss that morphed into a groan when Ethan spat into his palm.
Alex's head thumped back against the metal siding. "Ferry terminal's —" His breath hitched when Ethan's calloused thumb pressed against his frenulum. "Christ, Ethan. There's a fucking time and place —"
Ethan spat again, slicking his palm with deliberate slowness. "The time's now," he growled, working Alex's cock with rough strokes that made his knees wobble. Somewhere beyond the alley, a forklift beeped. The stench of day-old snapper carcasses clung to their sweat-slicked skin.
Alex grabbed Ethan's wrist — not stopping him, just anchoring himself as the wrestler's thumb found that brutal spot beneath his glans. "What part of recovery aren't you processing?" he hissed, though his hips jerked forward into Ethan's grip. The corrugated metal dug ridges into his bare shoulders where Ethan had pinned his shirt up. "We've been at this since — fuck — since yesterday's sunset."
Ethan's laugh vibrated against his throat, the sound drowned by a cooler truck rumbling past the alley entrance. His free hand yanked Alex's shorts lower, exposing the darkening bruises left by bathroom sink edges and shower wall tiles. "You're still breathing," he mused, twisting his wrist on an upstroke that made Alex's vision pulse white at the edges. "Still hard." His teeth scraped Alex's jugular where salt had dried in the creases of his skin.
Alex twisted sideways, fabric ripping where the metal siding caught his waistband. The sudden distance left Ethan's knuckles gleaming wet under a shaft of midday sun. "Try listening sometime," he snapped, swiping sweat from his upper lip with a trembling hand. Somewhere behind market stalls, children shrieked near an ice cream cart. The dissonance of normalcy made his pulse throb harder where Ethan had marked him earlier.
Ethan's fingers flexed, droplets of spit and precum splattering the asphalt between them. His nostrils flared at Alex's retreat — not the playful resistance of their villa wrestling, but shoulders squared like a man walking away from a bar fight. "You're the one who —"
"Kept score?" Alex wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting salt and the ghost of Ethan's whiskey from last night's shattered glass. The alley reeked of fish guts and diesel, a far cry from hibiscus-scented showers where they'd fucked so loud it sent staff scrambling. His shorts sagged where the waistband had torn, exposing the crescent-shaped mark Ethan left during their last simultaneous orgasm. "You think this is sustainable?"
Ethan's knuckles cracked as he flexed his grip — the same hand that had pinned Alex facedown into soaking towels while the maid pretended not to hear them. A drop of sweat slid down his sternum, cutting through the sheen of sunscreen and dried cum neither had bothered washing off properly. The ferry's horn blared across the harbor, muffled by crates of iced mackerel stacked nearby. "You're the one who came three times before breakfast," he said, low enough that the fishmonger's laughter drowned it.
Alex's fingers twitched toward his ruined waistband, the torn fabric flapping against his hipbone where Ethan had yanked it during their shower. The memory of tile grout biting into his knees flashed hot behind his eyelids. He opened his mouth — another retort about boundaries or common sense — but Ethan stepped forward, crowding him back against the metal siding. The wrestler's chest hair scraped his sunburned skin, each coarse bristle igniting fresh nerve endings.
"I mean it." Alex shoved against Ethan's pectorals, his palms slipping on sweat-slicked muscle. "Back the fuck up." The words tasted like chlorine and regret. He turned his face toward the alley opening where tourists' flip-flops slapped against sun-bleached concrete. Normal people. People who didn't leave fingerprint bruises on their lovers' throats.
Ethan exhaled through his nose — a bull pawing at dirt — but stepped back. His nostrils flared at the space between them, as if the oxygen smelled wrong without Alex's sweat mixing into it. The ferry horn blared again, distant now, swallowed by the market's din of haggling vendors and clattering ice buckets.
Alex adjusted his torn waistband with trembling fingers. The bruises underneath were darker than he'd realized — thumbprints in shades of plum and rust where Ethan had pinned him against the shower wall. His own reflection in a puddle showed swollen lips and hair stiff with salt. A tourist's dropped map fluttered toward them, sticking to the damp patch where Ethan had spat.
Ethan snatched it mid-air, crushing the paper in his fist. His bicep flexed with the motion, veins standing stark against skin gone ruddy with frustration. When he spoke, his voice was all gravel and broken glass. "You packed your own condoms." Not an accusation. A fact. The same way he'd noted Alex's hometown during their first beachside fuck — clinical detachment masking something rawer.
Alex straightened his waistband with deliberate slowness, the torn fabric rasping against his hipbones. "So?" He spat into the puddle between them, watching Ethan's distorted reflection ripple. "That doesn't make me your fucking fleshlight." The words hit the humid air hard, louder than intended. A vendor stacking ice buckets paused to glance their way.
Ethan's jaw worked silently, his pulse visibly hammering beneath the stubble on his neck. The crushed map fell from his grip, landing atop their mingled fluids on the asphalt. His nostrils flared at the scent rising between them — semen and sunscreen, the same cocktail that had lingered on their sheets every morning. When he stepped forward, Alex braced for impact, but Ethan just shoved the duffel bag into his chest hard enough to knock him back a step.
The wrestler turned sideways to squeeze past a stack of lobster traps without touching Alex, his shoulders flexing beneath the sweat-darkened tank top. At the alley's mouth, sunlight caught the silver in his chest hair where Alex had pulled clumps free during their last coupling. He paused just beyond the shadow line, fists clenched at his sides. "The taxi's waiting," he growled without turning around.
Alex adjusted the duffel's strap where it dug into his collarbone — Ethan's scent rising from the fabric with each step toward daylight. The wrestler was already halfway down the dock, muscles rippling beneath clinging fabric as he shouldered past a group of snorkelers. His gait carried the same rolling dominance as when he'd pinned Alex against the villa's fogged mirror — all contained violence and impatient grace.
A fishmonger's knife thunked into wood nearby, the sudden noise making Alex flinch. He looked down at his own reflection in a puddle streaked with engine oil — the torn shorts, the purpling marks along his inner thighs where Ethan's beard had chafed him raw. His cock twitched traitorously at the memory, still half-hard despite the argument. He spat into the puddle, watching the image distort.
The duffel strap bit into his shoulder as he stepped into sunlight, the sudden heat like a physical wall after the alley's shade. Down near the dock, Ethan was already sliding into a cab, his massive frame making the vehicle sag sideways. Alex's bare feet stuck to sun-softened asphalt as he walked, each step pulling at the skin where Ethan had bitten his ankle during their last shower fuck.
The cab door hung open, blasting AC that smelled of pine disinfectant and the wrestler's sweat. Alex hesitated — one hand braced on the roof — until Ethan's fingers closed around his wrist, yanking him inside with a thud that shook the chassis. The driver's eyes flicked to them in the rearview, lingering on Alex's torn shorts before Ethan growled, "Airport."
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