"Christ, my head," Vince groaned, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. His muscles ached like he'd been hit by a truck — twice. The last thing he remembered was the deck tilting beneath him, the orange flare of explosion lighting up the night before the cold swallowed him whole.
He rolled onto his back, wincing as wet sand clung to his skin. Moonlight painted his hairy chest silver, his heavy breaths the only sound besides the waves. No ship. No screams. Just him, the tide, and the throbbing pulse behind his eyes.
Something moved further down the beach. Vince tensed, squinting through the dark. A shape — human — dragged itself onto the shore, coughing violently. The broad shoulders were familiar, even slumped in exhaustion.
"Tony?" Vince rasped.
The other man lifted his head, water dripping from his dark beard. His gym shorts were torn halfway up his thigh, the fabric clinging to his thick legs. "Fuck," Tony wheezed, collapsing onto his knees. "You're alive."
Vince pushed himself up, muscles protesting, and staggered toward him. Sand stuck to his wet skin, grit catching in his chest hair. Up close, Tony looked worse — his knuckles were split, and a long scrape ran down his ribs. But his shoulders still filled the space between them, solid as the ship's bulkhead used to be.
"You look like shit," Vince muttered, but his throat tightened when Tony grabbed his forearm to steady himself. The callouses were rough against Vince's salt-stung skin.
Tony laughed, a hoarse, exhausted sound. "Speak for yourself, old man." His fingers lingered, thumb pressing into Vince's wrist like he was taking a pulse. The island air smelled like brine and bruised palm leaves, but all Vince could focus on was Tony's breath hitting his collarbone — warm, alive.
A wave crashed nearby, spraying them both. Tony jerked back, wiping his face, and Vince caught the way his gaze flicked down — just for a second — before snapping back up. The silence stretched between them, thicker than the humidity clinging to their skin.
"You got any idea where the hell we are?" Tony finally asked, voice low. He shifted his weight, and the torn fabric of his shorts gaped wider, revealing the curve of his thigh. Vince swallowed hard, pretending to scan the treeline instead.
"Private island, maybe." Vince flexed his hands, feeling the burn in his shoulders from treading water for god-knows-how-long. "Saw lights before the blast. Could be some rich bastard's —"
Tony grabbed his bicep suddenly, fingers digging in. "Listen."
The jungle rustled. Vince froze, every muscle tightening. But it was just a handful of birds scattering from the canopy, their wings flashing iridescent in the dawn light. Tony didn’t let go. His palm was hot against Vince’s skin, radiating heat despite the morning chill.
"Christ," Tony muttered. He sounded wrecked. His other hand came up, pressing flat against Vince’s sternum like he needed to anchor himself. Vince could feel Tony’s heartbeat through his fingertips — erratic, pounding.
Neither moved. The air between them crackled, heavy with something unsaid. Vince’s pulse hammered in his throat. Tony’s beard glistened with droplets of seawater when he exhaled sharply, gaze dropping to Vince’s mouth for a fraction of a second.
Then Vince lunged.
No finesse, just tongues and desperation. Their mouths crashed together — wet, sloppy, Tony's beard scraping raw against Vince's stubble. The groan that ripped from Tony's throat vibrated between them, his grip tightening on Vince's bicep hard. Saltwater and the coppery tang of split lips flooded Vince's senses as Tony bit down, swallowing his gasp.
Tony's other hand slid down Vince's ribs, rough palms catching on the coarse hair there, before yanking him flush against his own body. Heat radiated between them where their chests met, Tony's heartbeat thundering against Vince's sternum. The remnants of Tony's shorts — already shredded — gave way with a wet tear as Vince hooked two fingers into the waistband and pulled. Fabric hit the sand with a quiet slap.
"Fuck," Tony growled against Vince's mouth, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag in a ragged breath. His hands were everywhere — kneading the swell of Vince's shoulders, gripping the thick curve of his waist, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs like he needed proof Vince was solid. Vince grabbed Tony's ass in both hands, hauling him closer, and the answering grind of Tony's hips knocked the air from his lungs.
Dawn painted their skin gold as they stumbled back toward the tree line, mouths fused, hands mapping familiar terrain with renewed urgency. Vince's back hit a palm trunk hard enough to shudder the fronds overhead, but Tony didn't relent — just crowded him against the bark, one thigh slotting between Vince's legs with deliberate pressure. The moan Vince couldn't stifle was lost in Tony's mouth, drowned by the slick slide of tongues and Tony's fingers twisting in his hair.
Sand clung to their calves, to the sweat beading along Tony's collarbones where Vince mouthed hungrily. The jungle exhaled around them, humid and thick with the scent of crushed leaves and their mingling sweat. Tony's lips grazed Vince's earlobe before he rasped, "Christ, you're still —" but Vince cut him off with a hand fisted in his beard, dragging him back into the kiss.
Their bodies fit like they'd been carved from the same worn rock — Tony's thick thighs bracketing Vince's hips as he pinned him against the tree, Vince's calloused palms cradling Tony's jaw like something precious. Every movement was liquid heat: the slow roll of Tony's pelvis against Vince's, the way Vince's thumbs traced the dip of Tony's spine with reverence despite the urgency. Tony shuddered when Vince's fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, yielding with a groan as Vince tipped his head back to lick into his mouth, slow and thorough.
Vince shifted his grip, guiding Tony down onto a bed of ferns that sprang beneath them, their bodies sinking into the green. The fronds whispered against their skin as Tony straddled Vince's lap, his weight grounding, real. Vince mapped the expanse of Tony's back with both hands — the familiar knots of scar tissue from old weights, the flex of muscle as Tony arched into his touch. When Vince thumbed over Tony's nipple, he gasped, hips stuttering forward, and Vince swallowed the sound like a man starved.
Tony's hands were just as greedy, roaming Vince's chest, fingers catching in the graying hair there before skating lower. His touch burned everywhere it lingered — the swell of Vince's biceps, the thick line of his abdomen, the straining heat between his legs. "Yeah?" Tony murmured against Vince's throat, palm cupping him through the damp tangle of hair, and Vince's answering groan was ragged, punched from his lungs. The morning light gilded Tony's shoulders as he moved, his body a living shadow above Vince, every flex of muscle deliberate, reverent.
"Been wanting this," Vince admitted hoarsely, hands spanning Tony's waist as Tony rocked against him, their lengths sliding together in the slick heat trapped between their bodies. Tony's breath hitched, his forehead dropping to Vince's shoulder as he murmured something in Italian too rough to parse. Vince didn't need the words — the way Tony's fingers trembled against his ribs said enough, the way his hips rolled like he was memorizing the shape of Vince beneath him. The jungle pulsed around them, alive with the rhythm of their gasps, the wet slide of skin on skin, the whispered promise of more.
Vince tilted Tony's chin up with a thumb, catching his mouth in a kiss that was slow despite the urgency thrumming through them both. Tony melted into it, letting Vince guide him onto his back, the ferns sighing beneath their weight. Vince took his time — tracing the salt-dried curve of Tony's collarbone with his tongue, nipping lightly at the thick muscle of his pectoral, reveling in the way Tony arched and shuddered beneath him. "Easy," Vince murmured against Tony's sternum, pressing a palm flat to his stomach when Tony bucked up impatiently. "We got time."
Tony groaned, fingers carding through Vince's hair — not pulling, just holding, like he needed the anchor. Vince licked a stripe down to his navel, grinning at the way Tony's abs tensed, the coarse hair there damp with sweat and sea spray. He mouthed lower, nosing through the thick thatch at the base of Tony's cock, breathing him in — musk and salt and the lingering adrenaline of survival. Tony's thighs fell open with a quiet rustle of crushed ferns, his heel digging into the small of Vince's back. "Cazzo," Tony gasped when Vince finally took him in, tongue broad and wet along the underside. The taste of him was familiar, heady; Vince groaned around him, working him slow and deep, relishing every twitch, every choked-off noise Tony couldn't suppress.
Tony's hand found Vince's hair again, not guiding, just touching — a thumb rubbing circles against Vince's temple while Vince swallowed him down. The morning sun filtered through the canopy above, dappling Tony's skin gold and green where he lay sprawled, chest heaving. "Vince —" Tony's voice cracked, his hips lifting in a shallow thrust. Vince hummed around him, pressing Tony's thighs wider with his shoulders, letting Tony fuck up into his mouth at the pace he needed. The wet sounds between them mingled with the distant cry of gulls, the rustle of palm fronds, the hitch of Tony's breath when Vince's fingers found his balls, rolling them gently before tracing lower.
Tony gasped something wordless when Vince's thumb circled his hole, spit-slick and teasing. Vince pulled off just enough to rasp, "Yeah?" against the inside of Tony's thigh, grinning at the full-body shudder that earned him.
Tony nodded, chest flushed pink, beard glistening with sweat where it clung to his jaw. "Fuck, yeah," he managed, voice wrecked.
Vince ducked back down, swallowing Tony's throbbing cock to the root as he pressed his thumb in, just enough to make Tony's back bow off the ground, his calves tensing around Vince's shoulders. The noises Tony made were filthy, desperate — half-formed curses and Vince's name, over and over, like a prayer.
Vince pulled off with a wet pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawled up Tony's body, their skin sticking where sweat and sea salt mingled. He paused to kiss Tony's stomach, the dip of his navel, the rough hair between his pecs. Slow, deliberate, like he was mapping every inch of Tony's body to memory. When their mouths met again, Tony's hands came up to cradle Vince's face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones with a tenderness that belied the urgency of their grinding hips.
"I need you in me," Tony murmured against Vince's lips, his voice raw. Vince groaned, pressing their foreheads together as he reached between them, guiding himself to Tony's spit-slicked entrance. The first push was slow, too slow, Tony's fingers digging into Vince's biceps as he adjusted, panting against Vince's mouth. Vince rocked in shallowly, letting Tony feel every inch of him, the way their bodies fit together like they were made for this. Tony's thighs trembled around Vince's hips, his heels digging into the small of Vince's back as he pulled him deeper.
They moved together in a rhythm that was urgent but unhurried, all hot skin and shared breath. Vince buried his face in Tony's neck, inhaling the scent of salt and sweat as Tony arched beneath him, his hands roaming Vince's back like he couldn't get enough. The jungle around them was alive with sound — the rustle of leaves, the distant crash of waves, the slick slap of skin against skin as Vince drove into Tony with slow, deep thrusts that had Tony gasping.
Tony wrapped a hand around himself, stroking in time with Vince's movements, his head thrown back against the ferns. Vince watched him — the way his throat worked when he swallowed, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, the way his lips parted around each ragged breath. He leaned in to kiss Tony again, swallowing his moans as he fucked him deeper, their bodies flush against one another, sweat-slick and desperate. The air between them was thick with heat, the scent of sex and crushed greenery mingling in the humid jungle air.
Vince could feel Tony tightening around him, his legs shaking as he got closer, his fingers clutching at Vince's shoulders. "God, Vince," Tony gasped, his voice breaking. "I'm—" Vince reached between them, wrapping his fingers around Tony's cock, stroking him firmly as he fucked into him with slow, deep thrusts.
Tony came with a cry, his body tensing, his hot, viscous sperm puddling between their stomachs. Vince followed him over the edge moments later, burying himself deep as he spilled inside Tony with a groan, his forehead pressed to Tony's shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together, breathing hard. Vince pressed a kiss to Tony's collarbone, his lips lingering against the damp skin before he pulled out, rolling onto his side beside Tony. The jungle was quiet now, the only sound their slowing breaths and the distant call of seabirds. Tony turned his head to look at Vince, his eyes heavy-lidded, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. He reached out, brushing a thumb over Vince's cheekbone, his touch tender.
"Are you good?" Vince asked, his voice rough. Tony nodded, his fingers trailing down Vince's chest, tracing the graying hair there absently.
"Better than good," Tony murmured, shifting closer until their legs were tangled together again. The sun was higher now, filtering through the canopy above them, casting dappled light across their skin. Vince reached for Tony's hand, lacing their fingers together as they lay there, sticky and spent, the jungle humming around them.
Tony's thumb stroked the back of Vince's hand, slow and absent, his breathing evening out as the heat of the day settled over them. Vince turned his head to look at him — at the way the sunlight caught in his beard, the sweat still glistening on his chest, the lazy contentment in his half-lidded eyes.
"Now what?" Tony asked after a while, his voice quiet, raspy. Vince squeezed his hand, his lips quirking into a small smile.
"Now we survive," Vince replied, shifting onto his side to face Tony fully. He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from Tony's forehead, his touch lingering. Tony caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to Vince's palm before letting go.
"Together," Tony said, his gaze steady on Vince's. Vince nodded, his chest tight with something he couldn't name. He leaned in, kissing Tony softly, tasting the salt on his lips, the warmth of his mouth.
"Together," Vince breathed against Tony's lips. The jungle exhaled around them, the air thick with promise.
*****
Tony stretched, wincing as his muscles protested, the sun baking the sweat onto his skin. He squinted down the endless stretch of beach, where palm trees leaned drunkenly over the tide line. "So should we slit up, so we can cover more ground?" he suggested, though his fingers lingered on Vince's wrist — a contradiction to his own words.
Vince snorted, flexing his shoulders as he stood. Sand clung to the backs of his thighs. "Yeah, brilliant. You get eaten by whatever the fuck's in those trees, and I'm stuck here talking to coconuts." He nudged a splintered crate with his foot—waterlogged but intact. "We stick together. Slow. Methodical."
Tony crouched, prying the crate open with a grunt. Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, were two water bottles, their seals miraculously unbroken. He tossed one to Vince, who caught it midair, the plastic cool against his palm. "Lucky bastard," Tony muttered, but his grin was sharp, alive. The crate's other contents — a rusted flare gun, salt-stained protein bars — spilled onto the sand between them.
Vince pocketed the flare gun, a thumb brushing the corroded trigger. "Beach first," he said, nodding toward the curve of the shoreline. "Mark our shit. Then we see how far this rock goes."
Tony shouldered the crate's remnants — makeshift pack now — falling into step beside him. The tide licked at their ankles, erasing their footprints as they walked.
"You ever watch Survivor?" Tony asked abruptly, nudging a bloated life jacket with his toe.
Vince raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"
Tony grinned, nudging him with an elbow. "Means we gotta scout the perimeter before we build the toilet, genius."
The first useful find was a waterproof duffel snagged on mangrove roots, its contents miraculously dry: a first aid kit, a corroded multitool, and — blessedly — sunscreen. Vince squinted at the SPF 50 label like it was holy scripture before tossing it to Tony.
"Christ, priorities," Tony snorted, but he was already slicking it over Vince's shoulders, fingers lingering on the salt-crusted muscle.
Further down, the wreckage grew more personal — a crewman's bunk pillow, a shattered photo frame with smiling faces blurred beyond recognition. Vince pocketed a rusted can opener without comment. The island curved gradually, revealing no end in sight by midday when they stumbled upon the motherlode: an overturned rescue raft, its emergency supplies intact.
Tony whooped, vaulting onto the sun-bleached rubber. "Bingo." He tore into the compartment like a kid at Christmas, emerging with a hand pump desalinator and — "No fucking way" — a sealed bag of beef jerky.
Vince's stomach growled audibly. He snatched the jerky, tearing it open with his teeth. The first bite was ambrosia, the salt and smoke flooding his tongue. Tony watched him chew with undisguised hunger, but not for food — Vince recognized that look. He held out a strip between his teeth, leaning in. Tony took it from his mouth slowly, his lips brushing Vince's.
The raft's shadow stretched long across the sand when they finally packed up to continue, their shoulders pressed together as they walked. The island wasn't giving up its size easily — but neither were they.
Tony paused at a break in the tree line, squinting inland. A rocky outcropping jutted above the canopy, promising higher ground. "We should scout that ridge," he said, jerking his chin toward it. "Get the lay of the land."
Vince chewed the last of the jerky thoughtfully, wiping grease from his beard. "And if there's nothing?"
"Then we make camp before dark." Tony's hand brushed Vince's lower back as he stepped past him, deliberate. "Unless you're scared of heights, old man."
Vince snorted but followed. The jungle swallowed them whole, humidity clinging like a second skin. Twice Tony had to hack through vines with the multitool, cursing when thorns snagged his thighs. Vince watched the flex of his shoulders with more appreciation than concern.
The ridge wasn't steep, but the heat made every step a slog. Halfway up, Tony grabbed Vince's wrist, pointing silently to their left — a shallow cave tucked into the cliffside, its sandy floor littered with driftwood. "Shelter," Tony breathed. Outside, a flat rock plateau jutted over the beach below. Perfect for a fire.
Vince nodded, already cataloging the resources: freshwater runoff stains on the cave walls, crab shells near the entrance. "On the way back," he muttered.
The last stretch of the ridge was punishing — loose shale slipping underfoot, the sun a merciless spotlight. Tony hauled himself up first, sweat-darkened hair curling at his nape. When Vince crested the edge behind him, he found Tony frozen, his tanned back rigid.
"What?" Vince rasped, wiping grit from his eyes.
Tony didn't answer. Just pointed.
Below them, the island unfurled like a ragged green tapestry, the sea an impossible blue collar around it. But due west, where the jungle thickened into a snarled heart, a thin gray thread curled skyward. Smoke.
Vince's pulse kicked. "That's not fucking natural."
Tony exhaled sharply through his nose. "Survivors. Or —"
"Or someone was already here." Vince's mind raced through the implications: help, or competition for meager resources. Maybe worse. His fingers twitched toward the flare gun in his pocket.
Tony crouched, tracing the smoke's origin with a calloused finger. "Half-day's hike. Less if we cut straight through." His voice dropped. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Vince studied the terrain — the ravine they'd have to descend, the river snaking toward the smoke's source. Every instinct screamed trap. But the alternative was waiting to starve. "We go at first light," he decided. "Full kit."
Tony's grin was all teeth. "Like a proper fucking expedition."
As they turned back toward their newfound cave, Vince caught Tony's wrist. "Watch your back out here." It wasn't a request.
Tony turned his hand, interlacing their fingers. His palm was warm, rough with old calluses. "Only if you watch mine."
The cave embraced them with cool shadow. While Tony cleared a space for their meager supplies, Vince scoured the plateau for firewood, his mind circling that thin tendril of smoke like a shark. When he returned, arms laden with driftwood, Tony had the first aid kit sprawled open, inspecting a roll of gauze with a critical eye.
"Think we can boil water in this?" Tony held up a dented canteen.
Vince dumped the wood with a clatter. "We'll rig something." He crouched beside Tony, their shoulders bumping. Outside, the tide whispered against the shore, relentless.
Tony tossed the canteen aside with a frustrated sigh. "Or we could just drink coconut milk and piss ourselves sick." The gauze unraveled in his lap like a failed bandage. "Your call."
Vince smirked, flicking a pebble at Tony's knee. "You'd love that, huh? Me wiping your feverish brow."
Tony's answering grin was wolfish. He leaned in, his breath warm against Vince's jaw. "Thought you liked me sweaty."
"Fuck off," Vince growled, but his hands were already pulling Tony down, fingers digging into Tony's hips. Their lips met — hungry, clumsy — as they shed the last of their clothes. The cave floor was unforgiving against Vince's knees, but Tony's hands guiding him flat onto their makeshift bedroll made it worth the sting.
Tony's cock was already hard, flushed and leaking against Vince's thigh. Vince wrapped a hand around him, squeezing just shy of too tight as he whispered, "I want you fucking me raw." Tony's groan was visceral, his hips jerking forward into Vince's grip.
"Christ," Tony choked out, fingers twisting in Vince's beard as he leaned over him. The firelight caught the sweat on Tony's chest, painting him gold and shadow. Vince spread his legs wider, knees hooked over Tony's shoulders, his own cock twitching against his stomach.
Tony's first thrust was slow — agonizingly so — stretching Vince open with a burn that bordered on too much. Vince hissed, nails scraping Tony's back. "Don't fucking tease," he gritted out, arching up to meet him.
Tony laughed, low and rough, but obliged, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp snap of his hips. Vince's shout echoed off the cave walls, swallowed by Tony's mouth on his, their teeth clashing. The rhythm was brutal from the start — no patience left for tenderness, not when the need was this sharp. Tony's thrusts drove the air from Vince's lungs, each one striking deep enough to wring guttural sounds from his throat.
Vince clawed at Tony's shoulders, heels digging into the small of his back. "Right there — fuck, right —" His cock leaked untouched between them, the slide of their sweat-slick bodies maddening. Tony's breath came in jagged bursts against Vince's neck, his rhythm stuttering as Vince clenched around him.
"Gonna —" Tony's warning was a growl, his hips stuttering wild.
Vince dragged him down by the hair, biting at his lower lip. "Do it," he demanded. "Fill me up."
Tony's release hit like a quake, his body locking tight as his hot sperm spilled inside Vince with a ragged groan. Vince followed moments later, untouched, his climax ripping through him so violently his vision whited out at the edges. They collapsed in a heap, limbs tangled, Tony's weight a welcome anchor as they gasped into each other's skin. Outside, the fire crackled, indifferent to the wreckage they'd made of each other.
Vince was the first to move, rolling Tony onto his back to lick a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting salt and desperation. Tony's fingers carded through Vince's hair, tugging just shy of painful. "Insatiable bastard," Tony murmured, but his hips twitched upward, still sensitive.
The smell of smoke from their fire mingled with the musk of sex as Vince reached for the canteen, taking a swig before passing it to Tony. Their fingers brushed — intentional, lingering. Vince watched the column of Tony's throat work as he drank, the way his Adam's apple bobbed, the faint tremor in his hand. Not exhaustion. Anticipation.
Tony caught him staring and smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "See something you like?"
Vince snatched the canteen back, deliberately pressing the cold metal to Tony's flushed chest. "Just wondering how long before you start bitching about sleeping on rock."
Tony laughed, low and rough, stretching like a satisfied cat. "You'll warm it up for me."
A pause. The fire popped, sending embers swirling toward the cave's ceiling. Vince's gaze drifted to the distant glow of their scavenged flares, stacked neatly by the entrance. Tomorrow, that smoke. Tomorrow, answers. But tonight —
Tony's fingers traced Vince's collarbone, pulling his attention back. "Stop thinking," he ordered, his thumb pressing into the hollow of Vince's throat.
Vince caught his wrist, pressing a kiss to Tony's palm before flipping him onto his stomach with a grunt. Tony's surprised laugh turned into a groan as Vince's hands began mapping the familiar terrain of Tony's body. The fire burned lower. The night stretched on. And the island waited.
Vince pressed his forehead against Tony's shoulder blade, breathing him in — sea salt and woodsmoke and them. He kissed the knob of Tony's spine, slow, deliberate, as his fingers traced lower, dipping between Tony's cheeks with deliberate intent. Tony shuddered beneath him, pushing back into Vince's touch with a needy noise that punched straight through Vince's gut. "I need you inside me," Vince murmured against Tony's skin, the word more plea than command.
Tony rolled them effortlessly, cradling Vince's hips in his palms as he settled between his thighs. Their eyes locked — Tony's dark with hunger, Vince's blown wide with want — before Tony leaned down to kiss him, deep and searching. His fingers, slick with spit, worked Vince open with agonizing care, each slow thrust drawing ragged breaths from Vince's throat.
"Tony —" Vince gasped, arching up, his heels digging into Tony's lower back.
Tony pressed inside him with a groan, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, relentless push. Their bodies fit together perfectly, Tony's chest flush against Vince's, their sweat-slick skin sliding together as Tony began to move. There was no rush — only the slow, rolling rhythm of Tony's hips, the drag of his cock stroking Vince just right with every deep thrust. Vince clung to him, fingers tangled in Tony's hair as their mouths met again and again in messy, breathless kisses. The world narrowed to this — the heat between them, the way Tony's breath hitched when Vince clenched around him, the way his name sounded in Tony's voice when he flooded Vince's bowels with his sperm.
Afterwards, they lay tangled together, Tony's hand idly tracing Vince's ribs as Vince carded his fingers through Tony's hair. The fire had burned down to embers, casting flickering shadows across Tony's face as Vince studied him — the curve of his smile, the way his lashes fanned across his cheeks, the quiet contentment in his expression. Vince exhaled, pressing a kiss to Tony's temple. Tomorrow would come. But for now, this was enough.
The first hints of dawn filtered through the cave entrance, painting the walls in pale gold. Vince woke first, Tony's head heavy on his chest, his breath warm against Vince's skin. Carefully, he extricated himself, stretching as he stepped outside. The morning air was crisp, salt-laden, the tide receding to reveal stretches of damp sand. Tony joined him moments later, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair sticking up in unruly tufts.
They moved down the beach in comfortable silence, scanning the shoreline for anything useful. The tide had left gifts overnight — scattered debris from the wreck, tangled in seaweed and driftwood. Vince crouched beside a half-buried crate, prying it open with his fingers. Inside, vacuum-sealed pouches of rice and beans lay nestled between layers of waterproof packaging. Tony let out a low whistle, already dragging another crate from the water's edge.
By midday, they'd hauled a small mountain of supplies back to the cave — canned goods, water purification tablets, even a tarp that would serve as a rain catcher. Tony grinned as they stacked the last crate in the cool recesses of the cave, his hands on his hips. "We might actually survive this," he said, nudging Vince with his elbow.
Vince smirked, reaching out to brush sand from Tony's shoulder. "Speak for yourself. I plan on thriving."
Tony's laughter echoed off the cave walls as he pulled Vince in for a kiss, slow and lingering. Outside, the tide rolled in, relentless. But inside, they had all the time in the world.
Vince pushed Tony onto the bedroll, his hands trailing down Tony's chest, worshipping every curve of muscle beneath his touch. He pressed kisses along Tony's thighs, his breath hot against the sensitive skin there, before spreading Tony wider, exposing him completely. Vince took his time — a slow drag of his tongue over Tony's hole, savoring the sharp inhale it pulled from him. Tony groaned, his hips lifting instinctively. "Fuck —"
Vince grinned against him, tongue pressing in deeper, tasting sweat and salt and skin. Tony's fingers twisted in the bedroll, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Vince worked him open with lips and tongue, each stroke languid and deliberate. Tony was panting by the time Vince added a finger, curling it inside him, teasing mercilessly until Tony was trembling beneath him, cursing in broken Italian.
Vince pulled back just enough to slick himself up, watching Tony's face as he pressed in — slow, so fucking slow — burying himself to the hilt with a groan. Tony arched beneath him, his fingertips digging into Vince's shoulders, his thighs bracketing Vince's hips as they moved together. There was no urgency, no frantic desperation — just the deep, rolling rhythm of their bodies finding each other again and again, Tony's cock trapped between them, leaking against Vince's stomach.
The cave was alive with the sound of their breathing, the wet slide of skin on skin, the whispered curses and bitten-off moans. Vince leaned down, capturing Tony's mouth in a messy kiss as he fucked him deeper, each thrust pulling Tony closer to the edge. Tony came first, his sperm splatting in wet puddles on his torso, his body clenching tight around Vince. Vince followed soon after, spilling his seed into Tony with a groan, his forehead pressed to Tony's shoulder.
After, they stayed tangled together, sweat-damp skin sticking as they caught their breath. Vince traced idle patterns on Tony's hip, listening to the sound of the waves outside. Tony's fingers brushed through Vince's hair, his touch feather-light.
"Tomorrow," Tony murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
Vince hummed against his neck, already half-gone. Tomorrow, the smoke. Tomorrow, the unknown. But tonight — tonight, they had this.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
