Brackish
NC-17. For Beizy.
Dom's mouth tastes of the sticky-sweet sport drink he was guzzling down a few minutes ago. Billy explores it, eyes closed, leaning full-length against him; Dom leaning, in turn, against the wooden slats of the decking. Sweet, yes, Dom's mouth: sweet and hot and opening to Billy, their heads tilting in opposite directions as their tongues work and twine. Billy's hands slip easily into the waistband of Dom's board shorts, and he pushes them down without ever breaking their kiss. Dom sucks in a long breath through his nose, his only comment; he also lifts his hips away from the wall (they press briefly into Billy's hips), and Billy supposes that's a comment in its way. The shorts are still wet, just as their bodies are; the fabric stutters downward, catching halfway down Dom's thighs, but it's enough. Dom's hands slide down Billy's ribs to his hips, holding him where he is for a moment longer, lengthening the kiss. Billy opens his eyes, barely; sees Dom's wet lashes like spiky anemones on his cheekbones, the flush and a pale smattering of freckles from the sun, the way he keeps his eyes closed tightly, lids creased just a little.
Dom's mouth is sweet, but he's salty everywhere else, and Billy lowers himself carefully to his knees, the wood wet from their dripping bodies and forgiving to his knees (that won't last, he knows), and licks at Dom's belly, the sparse soft hair plastered down with seawater. His skin tastes of tears, seawater, lachrymose and briny, but there's nothing sad in Billy right now; Dom's fingers are sticky with salt, catching in Billy's damp hair as Billy kisses, licks, sucks his way across Dom's skin: belly, flat smooth pelvis, the short, trimmed thatch of hair just at the base of his cock. Billy lets the point of his tongue ramble there for a moment, Dom's breathy laugh rumbling above him. "Get on with it," he says, and his cock twitches up, bumping Billy's chin briefly before it falls, swinging heavily before Dom's thighs.
"Greedy bugger," Billy says, but he licks his way down (up) Dom's shaft, skin soft as silk over thick tight solidity. Billy keeps his hands on Dom's hips for balance and kisses and nuzzles his cock, licking around the head until the foreskin is all the way back, the head taut and slick. Dom's precome is salty, too, but not bitter, and Billy dips his tongue into the slit carefully, liking the sharp tang of it in contrast with the bitter, brackish taste of the sea.
He mouths Dom's balls: smooth, delicate, tender. (Billy flashes to Dom in the shower, casually pulling the loose skin up, the razor skimming clean lines through lather, Billy's fingers following to test closeness of the shave: "Very smooth," he'd said, grinning, and Dom had nodded, concentrating: careful, competent.) The skin is still smooth, the faintest of prickles under the flat of Billy's tongue foretelling the quick regrowth of the hair. "Hnh," Dom says, shifting his legs wider; Billy smiles and licks lower, further back; he uses his tongue to draw Dom's balls into his mouth and suck gently: first one, then the other. "C'mon," Dom says, and Billy nods and releases his current mouthful wetly.
Dom's cock fills Billy's mouth familiarly, the taste of it and the feel, the smell (Dom-scent beginning to combat the non-scent of the ocean) and weight of it on Billy's tongue, in his jaw, the curve of its girth between his lips as he sucks, creating a vacuum and moving his head so Dom grunts and pushes forward eagerly, the head sliding back along Billy's palate. Billy grips Dom's hips to still him for a moment, then brings him forward, indicating that he's ready. Dom's fingers hold his head more firmly as he begins to move, fucking Billy's mouth carefully. Billy slips his hands around to cup and knead Dom's buttocks, trying not to interfere with the steady, quick pace of Dom's thrusts.
"Fingers," Dom breathes, and Billy pulls his hands around obediently. He wraps his fist around the base of Dom's cock (Dom keeps thrusting, groaning slightly at the new, tighter grip) and lets his mouth slip off. He works his jaw a bit to ease the ache, then licks at his own fingers, wetting them thoroughly. His lips slide (tight hot easy) over Dom's cock again and down, and his right hand slips between Dom's legs and up, circling at Dom's asshole as Dom trembles. "That's it, yeah," Dom mumbles, and he thrusts a little harder, a little faster. Billy breathes deeply through his nose and closes his eyes, concentrating. "C'mon, c'mon," Dom is chanting almost inaudibly, talking to himself, maybe, or maybe to Billy, because when Billy does slide two fingers inside Dom (fuck, he's tight, and the heat of him makes Billy groan a little around Dom's prick), Dom gasps and says "Yeah, yeah," and clenches, then relaxes. Billy fucks Dom's arse with two fingers and Dom fucks Billy's mouth, heartfelt obscenities spilling from his lips as Billy moans encouragement, humming and moving his head as much as Dom's hands (fisted in his hair, now) will allow, nose bumping the trimmed curls just above Dom's cock on every fast downstroke. "Coming, Bill, I'm, unh, unh –" Dom shudders, Billy feels his cock tighten and then there's a little pulse under Billy's tongue (curled along the bottom of Dom's shaft) and the thick gush of it into his throat, closed for an instant as Billy struggles to breathe and swallow and breathe. "Yeah," Dom pants, "take it all, fuck yeah –"
Billy manages, and Dom bucks and grunts as Bill shoves his fingers up and in one last time. He sinks back, aware (again) of his achy knees and jaw, and the cold wet place across his chest where Dom's halfmast trunks kept slapping him. He's hard, his dick caught in one baggy leg of his own swim trunks, and he reaches down to adjust himself. "Hmm," he sighs, opening his eyes.
Dom's blinking down at him, wearing a dazed, smug half-grin, the tip of his tongue visible between his teeth. "Thanks," he says, and Billy shrugs, grinning up at him. "C'mon up."
Billy takes the proffered hand and groans as his knees click and pop, leaning against Dom to take some of the weight off. "Fucking New Zealand," he says, closing his eyes again and resting his lips against Dom's neck, ear on his shoulder.
Dom wraps his arms loosely around Billy's waist. "Left all your cartilage there, did you?"
"Mm." Billy shifts, pushing his restless hips into Dom's. "Guess so." He turns his head slightly, flicks his tongue out to catch a droplet at the end of Dom's hair. "I need some water."
"Shower?" Dom suggests.
"Bath?" Billy says. "Wanna shag you, that alright?" His hand slides down Dom's spine, rests at the small of his back: bare and warm, the faint light hairs there beginning to dry and rise away from the skin. Billy's pinky slips lower, into the cleft of Dom's bottom, and rubs over his coccyx, the rest of his fingers fanned out across the smooth skin of his back.
Dom breathes in deeply, chest rising and falling abruptly against Billy's. "Yeah, that'd be alright." He pushes Billy away and shucks his shorts completely off as Billy does the same; they drape the material over the high edge of the deck and step inside, shivering in the sudden chill of the air conditioning, hand in hand.
