The Sea Ain't Mine Alone

by Beaumont, C. L.

  Sydney’s already trailing his lips and tongue down James’ back by the time James can force any words out of his breathless lungs. He sure as hell isn’t laughing anymore. “Jesus . . .”

  Sydney bites at the skin over James’ shoulder blade hard, sending a piercing thrill through James’ chest, before laving at the mark with his tongue, hands roving firmly up James’ sides. “Should I be concerned that you’re calling out another dude’s name during sex?” Sydney quips into his back.

  James reaches back to grab at a handful of Sydney’s curls and pulls, other hand gripping tightly at the pillow as Sydney’s wet, open lips travel lower . . . lower . . . straight down to the dip in the small of his back. “Fuck you,” James groans.

  Sydney hums, lips perched just at the top of the crease of James’ ass. “Let me do this first,” he says, right before grabbing James’ buttocks hard in both hands and dipping his tongue into the crease, slowly traveling down in a cooling, wet slide.

  “God, yeah . . .”

  Sparkling pleasure radiates out from the center point of Sydney’s soft tongue gliding between James’ cheeks, leaving an icy trail in its path as his hands grip hard and squeeze. James frantically reaches up with one hand to press against the wall, pushing himself back against Sydney’s tongue as Sydney’s groans vibrate through skin. James can feel the bed gently rocking from where he knows Sydney is getting himself off against the mattress, using the friction of the warm sheets against his cock as he breathes in deeply across James’ skin.

  James’ chest is trembling, hips pushing desperately back against Sydney’s mouth while also trying to grind his throbbing cock deeper against the mattress, shooting coiling heat through his groin. Sydney’s lips and tongue slowly, gently kiss down the crease of his buttocks, nearing his hole with their warm, wet trail. James flutters in dark, wicked anticipation, gut tensing and breath held tightly in his lungs.

  Suddenly Sydney’s mouth is gone, cool air rushing against the spit trailed down along his ass. “You didn’t get up in the middle of the night to take a shit, did you?”

  The air in James’ lungs releases all at once in a surprised laugh. “You know I didn’t, you dick. Only an idiot could get that close and not be able to tell.”

  James can feel Sydney’s answering grin in the air, brushing softly against the skin on his quivering lower back. “Never hurts to ask,” he says lightly.

  James is just about to shoot back a Sydney-inspired retort when the words die on his tongue in a rushing gasp, pushed out with an uncontrollable moan as Sydney spits loudly against his hole and then presses his mouth fully against him in one slow, open-mouthed kiss.

  James cries out from deep in his chest, hand on the wall shaking. Sydney’s lips suck and kiss over his fluttering hole, leaving him wet and open and aching. James’ buttocks ache where Sydney’s thumbs hold him open, pressing around his rim to make room for his lightly stubbled cheeks, rubbing roughly against his sensitive skin as he licks. James fights the urge to reach back and grab the back of Sydney’s head and shove him deeper into his ass, needing to feel every inch of Sydney’s mouth against his body.

  “Come on . . .” someone is whispering, maybe it’s James, it’s probably James, James isn’t the one with his tongue up someone’s ass—

  “Fuck, baby, come on . . .”

  Sydney’s warm, wet tongue slides roughly inside, shooting straight past the rim and igniting the heat in James’ groin, and Sydney groans loudly against his skin. He pulls back, words whispered like ice against the wetness surrounding James’ hole.

  “Fucking shit, James, you’re still open from last night.”

  The memory slams into James’ mind with a heat-filled crash, causing him to reach back and grip a handful of Sydney’s curls and push his mouth back against his ass. Sydney groans into him, grabbing at his hips hard enough to bruise and pressing his tongue so deep inside James feels like his entire self is being stretched open for Sydney’s wet mouth.

  James closes his eyes and lets himself remember, reliving it like a fantasy as Sydney’s lips continue licking deeper into his hole, rolling and sucking wet echoes through the room.

  He remembers . . . how they’d been sitting out on their chairs on the porch, after-dinner beers in hand and watching the sunset like they did almost every night. How Sydney had been plucking idly at his uke, thinking out loud through a new board design he was going to try out soon at the shop once he got the right materials shipped in. And James had sat there feeling lighter than air, letting Sydney’s words wash over him like a soft blanket pulling him deeper into a heavy, relaxed daze.

  Then Sydney had stopped talking, and played his uke for a few more minutes into the silence. And then he’d casually said, “So Chris is gonna meet us here tomorrow at ten, if that’s okay?”

  The reality of everything had hit James, then. That he was essentially sitting out on the porch with his fiancé, talking about what time they were going to get fucking married. And even though that small part of his heart had still tried to pang and pull back thinking that it wasn’t even a real wedding at all, the rest of him wanted so desperately to hold Sydney Moore close to him in that moment it had nearly gutted him, ripped him in two.

  So James had risen to his feet on unsteady knees, reached down to pull Sydney up to his feet, then kissed him without warning, grasping Sydney’s face in his hands. “I need you. Now,” he’d said against his lips, and Sydney had followed behind him gripping his hand tightly on the way to their bedroom, eyes wide and soft and hungry all at once.

  “Are you thinking about it?”

  James flings his eyes open in the present where Sydney’s words tickle against his skin, and his large hands glide smoothly up the muscles of James’ back. Sydney leans down and suddenly bites the skin on James’ buttock hard between his teeth, causing James to cry out and grind his cock deeper against the mattress, needing the friction and heat.

  “You know I fucking am,” he breathes.

  Sydney hums deep in his throat, wetly kissing his bite mark before moving his lips back between the crease of James’ ass, kissing their way back to his open and dripping hole. James shivers up his spine as Sydney licks a slow stripe across his opening, starting at the thin and sensitive skin of his perineum and ending up in the small of his back.

  “Tell me about it,” he growls. “Tell me why you’re so open and wet.”

  James moans breathless as Sydney shoves his cheeks back against the skin of James’ ass and sucks his lips around his hole, running his thumbs hard up the backs of James’ thighs. He feels dizzy with want. Sydney’s mouth sucks and hums and licks open his hole while closes his eyes and remembers the ghosts of Sydney’s body from last night on his skin. James swallows hard and presses his hand harder against the wall, speaking low and trying not to let out a wild cry.

  “You pushed your fingers inside me,” he groans, face burning.

  He gasps as Sydney grips his ass harder than he ever has and makes a noise that sounds like falling apart, pressing his tongue even deeper inside of him with a moan. James can barely breathe.

  It’s rare he finds himself saying anything coherent at all during sex. Anything besides an “oh God” or a “fuck” or Sydney’s name. He leaves the beautiful, dripping, piercing sentences of scorching words to Sydney, on the nights when either of them has the breath left to speak. He loses himself in Sydney’s voice, his fantasies, his wants, his brash desire, and he indulges the secret part of himself that wants to lie there and be utterly taken, completely overwhelmed.

  Now, though, he shivers as he feels the mattress rocking even more as Sydney thrusts against the sheets. James flushes red up his neck where he gasps at the ceiling and shudders at what he’s about to say, his throat tight.

  “You stretched me open,” he pants out. “Fucked into me. Filled me.”

  Sydney pulls back from James’ hole and cries out breathlessly. “Shit, James.”

  James feels the desperate heat of Sydney’s words tr
avel straight through his body to the aching, leaking tip of his full cock, pressed hot and thick into the sheets. It rolls through him like a wave, thrashing him helplessly onto the wet shore.

  He thinks back frantically to the night before, how in the middle of kissing, tangled naked in the sheets, Sydney had started to reach down and prepare himself like they did things most of the time, when James had stopped him with a hand on his wrist and shaken his head and whispered, “No, I need you.”

  How Sydney’s eyes had blown to huge black disks when he looked down and watched his fingers sink into James’ ass the way they’d done only a handful of times before, moaning out loud at the wet slide of his fingers into James’ shaking body.

  James takes a deep breath, feeling bold and reckless. Sydney’s curls tickle against his ass where he still licks into him, stopping every few kisses to spit into his hole before diving in to press him open further with his lips. In his mind, James sees Sydney from the night before, gorgeous and kneeling before him with his muscled chest heaving in the moonlight, holding his cock in his hand at James’ entrance with a hot sweat dripping down from his curls.

  James presses back harder against Sydney’s lips and curses under his breath. “You held your huge cock in your fucking hand . . .”

  “Fuck, tell m—”

  “Pressed it up against me. Pushed it inside me.”

  “Oh my God . . .”

  James reaches down frantically under his lifted hips and grabs his own cock in his hand, gripping hard and moaning at the release of sweet friction. Sweat beads along his spine and in the small of his back as Sydney still bites and licks along the crease of his ass, alternately fucking him deep and wet with his tongue. Suddenly, Sydney gives one cheek of James’ buttocks a light slap, shooting heat straight down through James’ toes curling against the mattress.

  He starts to keen as he pulls hard on his own cock, words pouring out of him that he’d only ever heard Sydney say in the heat of the moment on their filthiest nights.

  “You were so fucking huge,” he groans. “Swelling in me . . .”

  Sydney whimpers high in his throat, and James feels Sydney take one hand off his ass to reach down to start working his own erection.

  James goes on, prickling up the back of his neck. “Fucking into me. Pumping your cock in my ass. God you were so big. Didn’t think I could take it—”

  “James.”

  James closes his eyes again and sees Sydney from the night before. How he’d covered him with his body and thrusted his cock into him again and again while James lay panting and arched on his back, fingernails leaving red trails along the skin of Sydney’s shoulders. How Sydney had held James’ face in his hands and kissed his bearded cheeks, his eyelids, across his forehead, just the barest hints of panted kisses brushed against his mouth. He thinks of how Sydney had pulled out all the way then knelt up to watch himself disappear into James’ body in one long, slow, glide, both of them moaning at the wet slap of skin against skin, sparking through the room.

  How Sydney had laid his whole weight on top of him, just barely rolling his hips so that he hit the spot inside James that made his toes curl and the breath knock clear from his tight lungs. And how he’d whispered softly against his mouth, voice nearly gone, “dearest love” as he’d reached between them and gripped James’ cock in his hand and pumped him until he came.

  James flings open his eyes and knows he’s getting close. He pulls and twists on his cock, fire shooting through his veins, and swallows over his dry throat to keep talking, knowing Sydney’s hanging on his every word as his tongue traces a slow, hot circle around the rim of James’ ass, barely dipping inside for a sloppy lick.

  “I’m still open now,” he pants out, nearly biting his tongue. “That’s how much you stretched me.”

  Sydney whimpers behind him where he still lies on his belly between James’ legs, tongue flicking frantically against his dripping hole. James arches his back to push against him. “Fucked me so fucking good. So hard. I can still feel your huge cock in me.” James grunts as the heat of his orgasm starts to coil at the base of his erection, hot and dripping in his hand, hard as steel.

  He gulps down air. “Can still feel your cum dripping out of me, dripping down my thighs . . .”

  “Jesus Christ—”

  “God, I was tight, wasn’t I? Open just for you to take me. Only you inside me.” James whines as his cock throbs. “Getting fucked . . .”

  “Fucking fuck.”

  And with that, Sydney presses his face hard against James’ ass, fucks his tongue deeper into James than he ever has, flicks the tip against the sensitive skin inside him, and groans.

  James comes in his hand with a breathless cry, spilling onto the sheets and dripping over his fingers still frantically flying up and down the aching steel of his erection. Distantly he hears Sydney’s voice murmuring, and feels his hands running up and down the cheeks of his ass.

  “Fuck, yeah that’s it. Come for me . . .”

  James collapses onto his stomach, not giving a shit that the sheets beneath him are wet. He takes a breath that expands every inch of his lungs, feeling dizzy and tingling and heavy like lead. Then he heaves himself onto his back as Sydney pushes himself up to kneel over James’ hips, hand desperately pumping his own cock.

  James runs his fingernails up Sydney’s thighs, then reaches under to grab his balls in his hand, feeling them hot and tight up against his groin. Sydney’s cock is swollen and leaking from the tip, shaking from the force of Sydney’s huge hand flying over it where it juts out proudly just above James’ stomach. James reaches his other hand forward and brushes a finger just across the slit, collecting the drip of precome leaking there, then brings his finger to his mouth and sucks, licking it clean.

  Sydney curses, eyes desperate and wild. James looks up at him and blinks hard. Sydney looks undone. Curls wild, spit still dripping from his chin, lips bright pink and swollen with beads of sweat dripping slowly down his chest and over his nipples, illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the windows off the surface of the ocean.

  “You’re beautiful,” James breathes, his throat surprisingly tight, because he knows exactly how to make Sydney Moore fall apart.

  Sydney does. He pulls himself once more, long and slow, starting from the thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock and squeezing hard out towards the leaking tip.

  “Gorgeous man,” James whispers to him, his hands on Sydney’s heaving sides. “My man . . .”

  Sydney whips his head back and keens as he comes, semen spraying across James’ chest as they both groan—two pairs of eyes blown open and fixed on the sight of Sydney’s cum painting the muscles on James’ stomach and chest.

  Finally, Sydney releases himself and collapses forward onto his elbows, bracketing James’ head and leaning down for a kiss. He hesitates just above James’ face, realizing where his mouth just was with a slight frown. James grabs the nape of his neck as he whispers, “Come here, you,” then pulls him down the rest of the way to crash their mouths together, still panting and open, lips sensitive and wet.

  He kisses him for a long time in the early morning air, relishing in the heavy weight of Sydney’s muscled limbs lying limp on top of him, trusting him to hold him up and not let him fall.

  When Sydney eventually pulls back to breathe, James nearly gasps. He forgets, sometimes. Forgets how wrecked and open and young Sydney can look—how alive. They hold each other’s gaze in the new silence, breathing hard into the vulnerable air, then James pats the side of Sydney’s cheek and grins.

  “Still all in a fit about seeing each other the day of the wedding?” he asks.

  Sydney blinks once, registering his words, and then the look on his face is slowly replaced by his usual gaze—piercing and cocky with just a tiny hint of smirk. James drinks it in as Sydney sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You don’t realize this,” he says, “because you have an absolutely shit internal clock. B
ut it’s nine-fifty right now, and Chris is coming at ten—”

  “Shit!”

  James leaps up from the bed as Sydney laughs, eyes bright. He paces across the room, frantically searching for his robe among the heap of clothes thrown onto the floor from the night before, then looks back at Sydney still casually kneeling on the bed, one hand working out the tangles from his curls while the other one strokes languidly at his soft, wet penis nestled between his muscled thighs.

  James wants to drop the robe in his hand back onto the floor. Leap back into the sheets and pull Sydney down and kiss him senseless until his cock is thick and hot again, pressing into his skin. Wants to taste the laughter on his tongue and kiss the dimples on his cheeks.

  God, he’s really lost it over the past year, hasn’t he? He’s fallen hard and gone.

  It feels spectacular.

  James stands with his hands on his hips, trying to look stern as Sydney chuckles. “You couldn’t have fucking said anything about the time twenty minutes ago?”

  Sydney raises his eyebrows, eyes darting quickly to James’ ass. “I was busy!”

  James curses and flings on his robe before heading for the door to the bathroom. He catches Sydney’s pleading look out of the corner of his eyes as he heads for the door and stops. “Oh no no, you don’t get to use the shower. You’ll end up taking a fucking half hour, and I’m the one who has fucking cum sprayed all over me, thanks to someone.”

  Sydney rolls his eyes and huffs at the ceiling. “Well fine, I’ll just have to look like I literally just had sex in all your memories of today then.”

  James mutters under his breath as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. “You better be fucking clean and dressed by the time I come out of here. Seriously, Sydney.”