Chapter Text
It was monday again, which meant I had to go fishing with my dad for the rest of the morning. We had a good catch already, but Dad was determined. Our boat was swaying as I dangled my legs above the water, feeling the cold spray of water hitting my feet. I always loved mornings like this, where the tide was calm and the sun painted the harbor in shades of gold and copper, glinting off the churning water where my dad, Bill, and I were working. When you grow up on the beach, you end up getting used to the smell of fish and seafood, it starts being a part of your routine. Dad tossed a heavy coil of net onto the deck with a practiced thud beside me, it was a sign for me to stand up and help him.
"Check the lines, Josh. We must get plenty today, let's move."
I nodded, yawning and rubbing my eyes.
"My break ended already? Ugh." I groaned.
My focus was on the knots for the first few minutes as we made small talk about the weather and the family's sales when a distant shape caught my eye, paddling towards us. It was a man, a dark silhouette rode the crest of a rising wave. Just another surfer; we're used to see a lot of them almost every day. He moved with a liquid grace, cutting across the water before diving. The wave receded, and he popped back up, sitting on his orange surfboard, one hand pushing wet, medium dark hair from his face. He paddled closer. As he neared, details sharpened. A black-and-blue wetsuit clung to his frame, hinting at lean muscle. Sun had burned his cheeks a ruddy red and his eyes, when they finally lifted to ours, were a startling brown.
He stopped his board beside our hull, resting his arms on the board. "Hey," he called, his voice easy, carrying over the small splash of water. "Sorry to bother, but do you guys know where a decent restaurant is on this island? I just got here last night."
He squinted at me, frowning against the sunlight hitting straight on his face, I stopped what I was doing to adjust my strawhat and Dad kept working, heaving another section of net over the side and spilling dozens of pompanos on the bucket.
"Bill's Grill," Dad finally said, looking up. "My place, up the beach, past the pier you turn right, just behind that palm tree over there" Dad pointed out. "You'll smell the frying shrimps."
The surfer smiled, a slow, easy curve of his lips. His gaze slid from Dad to me and held it there. "Sounds perfect. I'm Tyler by the way."
"Josh," I managed, my name feeling clumsy in my mouth.
Tyler's eyes didn't leave mine. "Josh." He repeated it, like he was tasting the word. "This your boat?"
"Yeah. My dad's."
"It's nice. You guys fish every day?"
"Most days, yeah." I could feel a blush heating my neck, creeping up toward my ears. The sun wasn't the only thing burning me, apparently. I kept fidgeting with stripe of my hat around my neck.
"You must know this water better than anyone." Tyler said. He shifted on his board, the movement causing the wetsuit to strain across his shoulders. He ran a hand through his damp hair again, letting the droplets fall. I wish he would stop doing that. "Any good spots for surfer? The forecast said these tidal currents can get tricky this time of year."
Dad chuckled, tossing a net on the water again. "Tricky? They'll swallow you if you're not careful. Josh knows the channels, my kid got the eyes for it."
Tyler's smile deepened, he looked up directly at me, I felt my cheeks burning. "Got the eyes for it, huh? I'd love that. Maybe after your shift?"
My throat tightened. Deep down I felt like he wasn't just asking for my directions. The way he said it, lounging there on his board like he owned the ocean, felt like a challenge. "I... I finish around twelve, perhaps... Dad, can I?"
Dad nodded. I didn't know why, but that possibility of making a friend cheered me up on this dull day. It's always the same thing every lonely day, it would be nice to walk around and meet new people, even if is just a tourist.
"All right, twelve." Tyler nodded, as if committing it to memory. "I'll find you at the kiosk, then, yeah?" He let his board drift a little closer, until his fingertips were almost touching our weathered hull. "What's the best thing at Bill's Grill, though?"
Dad answered again, a buffer against the strange, pulling tension. "Tuna tacos. No contest."
"Oh, that's different, I'll have to try them." Tyler said, but he was still looking at me. "Maybe you could recommend something else, Josh. Something special?"
I swallowed. "I always go for the minty pineapple smoothie." I shrug, as if it was the most common thing in the world, at least it was, for me.
"Oh! Good," Tyler echoed, his tone playful, chuckling. "Never heard of, but I'll trust you on that."
I just smirked at him, dad tapped my shoulder, warning me.
"What?" I whispered back.
"Keep working, kid, or you'll let the fish jump back."
That ripped a chuckle from Tyler, and I had sworn I wanted to dive into the water and never come back. Dad was a pro at embarassing me in front of other boys, specially cute boys like the surfer over there.
"Welp, I should get going then, I'm starving. Thank you, guys." He pushed back from the boat with a gentle kick, starting to paddle away, but suddenly he stopped, turning his head back over his shoulder. The wetsuit stretched across his back, the material shining under the sun. "See you, Josh!" He waved, I just lifted my hand back at him.
Tyler winked, and my chin dropped a little. I genuinely didn't know what to do with that fucking wink, should've I winked back? But what left of me was a simple "bye" with my voice cracking, Tyler giggled to himself, then he dipped his paddle and pushed off, sliding back toward the shoreline. I stood there, rooted to the deck, still fidgeting with my hat. Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder, rough and warm.
"D'ya wanna bucket, kid?"
I snapped my head at him, my face could melt right there. "Dad! Holy shit, stop that, and no, I wasn't drooling."
Dad chuckled, annoying me even more.
"Get moving, son. We've got a day's work ahead. That boy's got more polish on his nails than my new yacht."
That made me laugh. Right, now that dad mentioned it, I guess Tyler had black nail polish on.
"He was just asking for directions," I mumbled, bending to open the basket of fish baits.
"Was he?" Dad laughed, a low, knowing sound.
I shook my head in disapproval. I tossed the baits on the water a few times, but my mind was somewhere else, following a black wetsuit and a pair of brown eyes. God, Tyler was so cute, but I shouldn't be thinking about him that way, he was just being nice to me, after all. Midday was only two hours from now, but it felt like the whole day stretched before me, a vast, empty sea of time until then. The work continued. Nets unfurled, the engine of our boat - Blue Mermaid - coughing to life whenever we moved to another spot. I tried to focus on the horizon, on the tasks, but my thoughts kept circling back to Tyler's voice, his looks, the way he said my name like it was something worth savoring. Dad kept teasing me about how quiet I was, and I only said my mind was busy, which was true. As two hours passed, the sun climbed to it's peak. We hauled in last catch, tons of silver catfish flopping on the deck. Dad talked about how absent my younger brother Jordan was being now that he was eighteen and got a girlfriend, I nodded, my responses automatic. Finally, it was time to head back home, the island grew on the horizon, a green mound against the white sand. As we neared the coastline, I scanned the beach. No surfer. No black wetsuit. A pang of stupid disappointment hit me. Maybe he'd forgotten about me, and it was okay though, I'm just a stranger anyway. As we docked, Dad started cleaning the catch, I helped him but my eyes kept drifting to the kiosk.
"Go on," he said, not looking up from his work. "If you're gonna meet the boy, don't be late. First impressions matter."
I hesitated. "He might not even be there."
"He'll be there." Dad grinned. "A boy who looks like that, asking questions like that? He'll be there. Go get cleaned up. You smell like fish guts."
"Jesus, dad." I chuckled. He was always so nice to me. Mom and dad were really supportive since I came out to them, Jordan cringed at first, then accepted after a while, but he kept teasing me about how I was the virgin older brother.
I sniffed my armpit, and sure did smell like fish. I hurried up the path to our house perched above the beach, noticed that the place was empty so mom and Jordan must have gone to the kiosk already, I showered fast and pulled on a clean yellow t-shirt and jeans shorts, along with my inseparable flip-flops. My heart hammered against my ribs and I actually hated that anxious feeling, that didn't make any sense, but my stupid brain kept making a big deal of the whole thing, because Tyler's words still echoed in my head. I walked down to the beach, the pier stretching its wooden fingers into the harbor. Bill's Grill was just ahead, its open deck already dotted with early patrons. And there, leaning against the railing of the pier, was Tyler.
He'd changed. No tremendously tight wetsuit this time. He had such a pretty, golden tan skin. Now, Tyler had just khaki shorts and a plain white button down shirt, and wait... was that a choker around his neck? God... As I stepped closer to him, I noticed that his medium hair was dry now, a tousled, dark mess. He held a bottle of water, sipping from it as he watched the colorful boats sailing around. With a sixth sense, he turned around and saw me. That slow smile returned, brighter than the sun.
"You found me," he said, walking toward me. His steps were easy, confident.
"You said you would come to meet me." I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.
"I keep my promises." He stopped close enough that I could smell the aloe gel for sunburns on him, a clean, fresh scent.
"Did you get a sunburn?"
"Yeah, the back of my neck is just toasted." He chuckled. "The sun here is just punishing me."
"Well, you know, tropical islands have their magics." I shrugged, biting my lip to hide the smirk.
"I was waiting for you to have lunch, so, fish tacos?" he said.
"Did you really? Oh, dude."
"Yeah, I had some shrimps when I got here, but now I'm starving all over again."
"Oh, me too."
"Plus, I wanted to share the tacos with you, so... Please, lead on."
I got all flustered at that, if dad was here, he would mock me for the rest of my life. We walked side by side toward the kiosk right behind us, the wooden deck was warm under our feet even through the slippers. We found a table at the edge, overlooking the water, he seemed to enjoy the warm breeze picked up just like another tourist, there was the carrying the sound of lounge jazz music from the speakers and clinking glasses of the other customers. On the other side, at the bar, Jordan was leaning on the counter, wiggling his eyebrows at me, I flipped him off and that bastard laughed. Tyler sat, stretching his arms along the back of his chair. His shirt pulled tight across his chest, almost popping the buttons open. He watched me, his brown eyes tracing my face. "You're looking a little different...?" He questioned almost to himself.
"I showered."
Tyler giggled, "No, it's something else." He emphasized, just like before. "I think it was the hat? Yeah, it's off, I can see your hair now."
I felt the blush return. Honesly, what does that even mean?
"Do you travel a lot?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
"When I can, yeah. I'm more like a nomad, I don't usually stay at one place for too long, but a few months ago I heard about the surf championship that's happening this weekend, and I was sure this island had the kind of peace I was in the mood for." He took another sip of water, his lips pressing against the bottle. A simple action, but my gaze stuck on it. He lowered the bottle. "Have your ever left here? The island?"
"I haven't, actually. The furthest I've ever been was with the boat for fishing, and I almost got lost in the ocean... but you know, it's what we do to survive."
"It's a good life," Tyler said, his tone sincere. "Rooted. I admire that. You know, I'm always moving, but sometimes I think I'd like to be... rooted somewhere." His eyes held mine. "To finally settle down, but I don't think I'm ready for it right now."
"Excuse me, boys, here's your food." Mom radiantly arrived with our food, breaking the spell, she brought us our spice-cured tuna tacos and minty pineapple smoothies, the glass dripping cold, my tummy growled. Tyler insisted we shared the tacos. He lifted a taco, took a bite, and a faint, satisfied sound escaped him.
"This is perfect." He licked a spot of sauce from his thumb, his tongue flicking out quick and precise. "You were right. About everything."
I smiled, sipping the smoothie. "Try the coleslaw salad too."
He could only groan, "This is gooood!", he sipped the smoothie and rolled his eyes. "It's so refreshing. If I lived here, I would be a prejudice for you guys."
I let out a breathy chuckle and took a bite, but I was watching him. The thought of Tyler living here on the island wasn't so bad, he was such a good company. As we finished eating, I gazed at the way he bent over the table to reach his water and made the fabric of his shirt tighten around his bicep, and how he pushed his split bangs back from his forehead, exposing the sunburn of his cheekbones, performing just for me with a quiet, provocative certainty that made my skin feel too tight.
"So," he said after a while, resting his elbows on the table. "You promised to show me the secret spots. The channels."
"Yeah, the water is great around this time of the day, but it gets rougher around five pm."
"I like it rough," Tyler murmured, I pinched my earrings just so I had something to do with my hands, I looked back at Jordan and mouthed a 'help', he chuckled, then turned his attention to a customer. When I had the courage to look at Tyler again, his gaze dipped to my lips, then back up. "I trust a good guide, so a good boy like you wouldn't let anything bad happen, right?"
The words hung in the air, that praise, wrapped in a quiet, thrilling danger. My whole body warmed with it, a slow, spreading heat that had nothing to do with the sun, I didn't know if he was doing it on purpose or I was just being horny and misunderstanding things.
"Yeah, I guess." I murmured. After a small talk about his previous trips, we got up and walked to the checkout so Tyler could pay for the food, my mom took his fifty bucks and thanked him, he kept praising the food and the cozy environment of our bar.
"Mom, we're going to the boat, gonna show him the channels."
"Oh, the channels? You surf?" She asked him.
"Yeah, I try." He chuckled. "But I'm just a tourist around here, ma'am, don't know much about the island."
"All right, welcome then, hope you feel at home just as much as we do! Tourists love it here, they always come back to spend even more time."
"Yeah." I agreed. "Mom, I have to go now."
"Okay, sorry." She smiled kindly, closing the register as she handed Tyler his change, he folds the bill into his leather wallet and shoves it into his back pocket. "Have fun, honey."
"Yeah, thanks." I turn around, Tyler following me.
As we passed Jordan on the bar, he had that look in his eyes that said 'I know there is something going on.' and I just rolled my eyes. Outside, the smell of fried shrimp faded from the kiosk as we walked down the shoreline, replaced by the sharper, cooler salty air coming off the open water. Tyler walked beside me, his steps slow and easy. I pointed out the landmarks, the old lighthouse, the submerged rock formations, the glowing orange floats on the ocean, and the red flags stuck on the sand indicating possible drowning area for bathers and swimmers.
"Did you like downtown?" I asked, as we walked down the pier to the boats of my community.
"Yeah, I've been there last night to rent a surfboard and have dinner, actually my airbnb is just up the hill," He pointed out a triangular wooden cabin with a pointy roof and a huge glass window, it's balcony poking out through the trees. I knew that one was expensive, only wealthy tourists usually rent there. "See?"
"Yeah. You must have money since you travel so much and afford a cabin like that." I let it slip out, but facepalmed right after. "I mean-"
Tyler chuckled. "Well, you're not wrong, but it gets kinda hard sometimes. I had to live on a motorhome for the first two years of roadtrippin' while I was saving up money."
"A motorhome?" I frowned. "I think I would die if I spent at least a day trapped inside of that."
"It's not that bad!" He smiles.
We passed by Blue Mermaid, Tyler looked back to it over his shoulder twice before asking me where I was taking him.
"Not the fishing boat, the yatch."
“Your yacht?” Tyler gasped, his voice a low murmur beside me.
“Yeah, it's one of my favorite places to be, feels like home. Dad surprised me with it as a birthday gift, last year.” I led him down the dock to where the yatch was moored, the hull dark against the deepening blue of evening. It was off-white, with beige details.
He climbed aboard without hesitation, his hand brushing mine as he stepped over the gunwale. The deck felt smaller with him on it, then I started with the basics. The channels where the water ran deep and safe. The currents that could pull you out to sea if you weren’t paying attention. The spots where the tide pooled, creating gentle waves for beginners, and the other spots, further out, where the sea floor dropped away and the waves grew tall and furious. I put on my sunglasses and started the engine of the yatch, sailing away from the beach.
“I believe that’s where you’d surf on the competition,” I said, pointing toward the eastern headland. “But only on a rising tide. If you get caught in the outflow… it’ll take you a mile out before you even realize.”
He listened, his eyes on the water, then on me. “You really know this like your own heartbeat.”
“I grew up here, but even the wisest fisherman knows the sea is treacherous, you should never doubt that.”
"I don't."
Tyler looked at me, his brown eyes now golden from the sunlight.
“You really seem like you love the place.” he countered softly, leaning against the handrail.
"It's all I know, I've been here for twenty one years." I shrugged, trying to ignore the warmth of his stare spreading through my chest. “What about the surfing? Did you grow up on that too?”
"No." He shook his head. “I'm from Ohio, I was never a beach kid, but since I started traveling for five years now, and I met the waves, I fell in love with that." He turned around again, leaning both forearms on the white rail. "My first competition was in California, then I've been to another one in Hawaii too, Costa Rica, Rio... And now I'm here in Barbados, my first time visiting Caribbean, actually." He grinned.
"Are you liking it?"
"I'm loving it here, it's so welcoming, but unfortunately I'm only here for the championship. I’ve been practicing hard for it.”
“I heard about that,” I said. “Big event. The whole island talks about it.”
"Yeah." A smile touched his lips. “Maybe you could watch from up there." He pointed out to a hilltop viewpoint on the westside. "You’d have the best view.”
The idea settled between us, him out there surfing as I watch. It felt intimate. “Maybe,” I said.
He moved then, stepping closer to me, taking cover under the roof that casts a shadow down on us. Tyler's fresh cologne made my throat go dry. “Josh, do you ever just… sail like this? Not for work, but just to feel it?”
“Sometimes.” My voice was barely above the whisper of the waves against the hull. “When I'm bored, or lonely.”
He seemed to completely ignore me, his eyes widened to something behind me.
“Can we get inside?” he asked, walking toward the wooden steps that led down to the bunker, his eyes were curious. “God, it must be so cozy in there.”
My breath caught just from thinking about being in such a small space with him.
"Yeah, of course." I turned the engine off, dropped the anchor and led him down the three steps, pushing the door to reveal the small lounge.
"Wow, it's great down here." he grinned, sitting down on the cream-colored booth we had there, “Josh, come sit.”
I joined him, the space suddenly feeling too tight. The boat rocked gently with the waves pulse as I told him about the comfortable loneliness of drifting. He listened, then his eyes caught mine after a moment of silence. His stretched arm behind me was really making me nervous.
"L-let's see w-what we have here." I got up, stuttering. I opened the storage cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sparkling white wine. “Well, I guess I found something. It's my mom's argentinian white wine.”
"Ooooh! Will she be mad at you if you open it?"
"I don't know." I giggled. "But I wanna try it."
"Oh man, I don't wanna get you in trouble."
"Oh, Tyler, I think I am already in trouble."
I started pouring two glasses for us and offered the first to him. “Wow, thanks for the hospitality, man.”
"Nevermind." I blushed.
I sat back beside him, we toasted the crystal glasses and sipped. I turned the AC on and the stereos were playing a low volume jazz. The wine was cold and bright, a contrast to the salty air. He savored it, his fingers brushing against the back of my neck. When I drank again, he watched my lips, the alcohol already numbing them.
"It's quite nice,” he murmured, setting the empty glass down and running his tongue over his chapped bottom lip, his throat working. “You’re a good guide, Josh.”
The words landed in my stomach, hot and heavy. Good. He kept using that word, wrapping me in it. We repeated the dose of white wine as the silence between us thickened, filled with the creak of the boat, the lounge music and the distant call of the gulls. Tyler shifted, turning toward me, his knee brushed mine, my eyes felt heavy when I looked down there, we were already tipsy.
“You’re so quiet,” he said. “and observing."
"Yeah, guess I am."
"I like that."
I couldn’t speak anymore because his closeness was a gravity that kept pulling the words from my mouth, warming the air between us. He leaned in slowly and he took off my sunglasses, lifting them up to my head as his eyes searched mine, asking a question I couldn’t form, then his lips were on mine. They were soft despite having a few splits, my eyelids felt heavier as I closed them and kissed back. Deep down, I wished it would come to this, and now I was just relieved that the tension between us finally crashed down. Tyler kissed me gently at first, but when the tip of my tongue brushed his, it became a claiming. His mouth was warm, tasting of white wine and subtle pineapple. A sigh escaped me and he swallowed it. His hand came up to cradle my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, and it felt like heaven. My hands found his shoulders, the linen soft under my palms. I pulled him closer by the collar, or he pulled me, the motion was one. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was the best I've ever had, and I could melt right there as it deepened. His tongue pushed against mine again, a slow, exploring slide that made me shiver. He kissed me like he’d been waiting all day to do it, with a focused, sensual intensity that left no room for thought. I sighed again, the alcohol now numbing my cheeks and burning my stomach with the intensity of it all.
I broke for a breath, my lips just a whisper away. “So good,” I breathed against his mouth. “You’re so good at this.”
I trembled as I praised him, it went straight through me, lighting every nerve. I kissed him back, trying to show him I could be good at this, too. His hands moved. One stayed on my face, the other slid down my arm, then to my waist. He tugged me until I was half-straddling his lap on the narrow couch, our bodies aligned and I was trapped between the table and him. The heat between us was sudden and shocking. He kissed me again, harder. His teeth grazed my lower lip, a sharp, sweet pain that made me gasp. He soothed it with his tongue, licking into my mouth. His hips shifted underneath me, a slow roll that pressed him against me. I felt the hard outline of his boner against my thigh, I gasped. I never got to this part before. One of his hands slipped under my shirt, his palm warm and rough against the skin of my back. He traced my spine, up and down, while his mouth worked mine. The sensation was overwhelming, the kiss, the touch, his humming in my ears.
“You like that? Is it okay” he whispered, pulling back just enough to speak, his pupils wide now.
I nodded, helpless. He smiled, a victorious, tender thing. “Show me then.”
He leaned back, pulling me with him so that I was more fully straddling him. He let his head fall back against the padded wall, exposing the choker around his throat. “Kiss me there.”
I did. I lowered my mouth to the warm skin of his adam’s apple, tasting a faint sweaty sunscreen. He hummed as I snapped his choker with my teeth, a low, approving sound. His hands came to my hips, holding me in place as I kissed along his collarbone, up to the pulse point under his jaw. At this point, all my focus was on his hard clothed cock against my ass. God, it was big.
“Yes,” he breathed. His fingers tightened on my hips, guiding my movements until I was rocking against him, a slow, grinding rhythm that almost matched the boat’s sway. The friction was exquisite, building a pressure low in my belly that throbbed with every shift, I couldn’t help but groan against his skin. His head turned, his mouth finding my ear. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick. “You’re driving me crazy, Josh.”
I was doing that, I got a boy hard for me for the first time; The thought unleashed something in me. I kissed him again, deep and hungry, my hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I got two open, exposing a strip of taut, warm skin. I kissed his chest, my lips brushing over the smooth muscle.
He arched under me, a sharp, beautiful movement. “God,” he choked out.
His own hands moved to my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. The bunk AC air was cool on my skin, but his gaze was hot. He looked at me, his eyes drinking in the sight. “Beautiful,” he said, the word a reverent whisper.
He pulled his own shirt off, tossing it aside. Then his skin was against mine, chest to chest, a shock of warmth and smoothness. We kissed again, a messy, breathless clash of mouths and tongues. His hands roamed my back, my sides, learning me. The rocking of our bodies became more urgent, less controlled. I could feel every inch of him, the hard plane of his stomach, the firm strength of his thighs. Our hips met again, and a sharp, sweet spike of pleasure made me cry out into his mouth.
He held me tighter, his arms strong around me. “Keep going,” he whispered, his lips against my temple. “Feels nice, right?”
“Yes, oh my God.”
The words unraveled me. I nodded, burying my face in his neck, my body moving against him with a rhythm that was instinctive, needy. All the times I’ve had grinded on a pillow in my bed could never feel as good as this. The world narrowed to the bunk, to his skin, to his voice praising me in the dark.
The sound of the boat’s gentle rocking faded into a new rhythm, our bodies moving together. Tyler’s hips arched beneath mine, pressing us tighter together. The friction was a sweet, aching pressure, our shorts now the only barrier. He whispered praises into my skin, each one a spark.
“So good, Josh,” he murmured, his lips against my ear. His hands slid down, gripping my hips to guide the grind. “Just like that.”
I gasped, the sensation sharpening. My own hands gripped his shoulders, feeling the muscle flex under my palms. I was losing myself in the motion, in his words, they wrapped around my mind, pulling me deeper and making me feel wanted. His head tilted back, a soft groan escaping him. “Don’t stop,” he breathed. “Please.”
I couldn’t stop. The rhythm built, a desperate, mounting pulse. My jeans shorts felt too tight, constricting, but his khaki was a soft barrier, I could feel the heat of him, the firmness. We were both straining, seeking, I realised I was just as hard when a wet spot patched beside the zipper. It ached for a release, but I wasn’t feeling that safe and ready to be naked in front of him.
“Tyler,” I choked out. “I think I’m c-close.”
“Yes,” he hissed. His fingers dug into my flesh. “Come on, Josh.”
My body obeyed. I rocked harder, faster. A wave of pleasure crashed through me, hot and sudden. I cried out, my body shuddering against him, my vision blurred at the edges, narrowing to the feel of my orgasm, the scent of wine and cum, and the sound of his ragged breath, I knew he reached it by the way he humped into me one last time, but it was obvious that the situation was way more intense for me than it was for him. I collapsed against his chest, panting. My face was buried in the hollow of his neck. His arms held me close, one hand stroking my damp hair.
“Wow, Tyler,” I whispered, my voice rough with awe. “That was really nice.”
I felt him shift beneath me, he let out a long, controlled breath, then gently eased me off him, helping me sit up beside him on the couch. Our legs remained tangled. He looked at me, his eyes still dark and intense, but now his neck was flushed red.
“Was that your first time? Feeling that with someone?”
I nodded, still breathless. “My first sexy time with someone, yeah.”
A slow smile spread across his face. It was tender, not teasing. His thumb brushed my lower lip. “Your thoughts?”
“I liked it, I really did.”
The admission hung between us. I’d never let myself be so vulnerable, so seen. He leaned in and kissed me, soft and deep. It was different now, saturated with knowing. When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to my waist.
“I could never tell it was your first time doing that, you seemed like you knew what you were doing.”
“Well, spoiler alert: I didn’t.”
We giggled as I floated in the aftermath, boneless and spent. His arms were around me now, I could feel the world slowly seep back in, the creak of the boat, the distant lap of water against the hull. The post-nut sleep was hitting me as I put my head on his shoulder, his hand was reaching for the bottle of wine on the table when I felt a buzzing against my thigh. I blinked, confused. Tyler felt it too. He shifted, and I realized it was my phone, tucked in my pocket. The buzzing was persistent. I pulled it out, my movements sluggish. The screen lit up: Dad. My heart, still pounding from pleasure, now slammed with a different dread. Tyler watched, his expression calm but curious.
I answered, my voice hoarse. “Yeah?”
“Josh?” Dad’s voice was cheerful, loud. “You still with that surfer fella?”
“Yeah,” I managed.
“Well, bring him up! I made that fish stew you like.”
I stared at the phone. Tyler’s hand was still resting on my bare stomach, warm and possessive.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll be up in a minute.”
I hung up. The silence in the bunk felt charged, different. Tyler’s smile returned, slow and knowing.
“More food?” he said, similing. “God, I love this place."