Phoenix

My butt itches.

It's not the trunks, though they would do the job on their own. It's James looking at me. I know it's from him looking at me, from knowing that he's...right. I can feel his gaze as he walks behind me towards the car that will take us to the beach. I slip inside and try, very hard, not to goggle at him.

Don't think the word hard.

Getting him into that swimsuit was the best idea I've had since I met him. He's huge but lean, his strong features smoldering with raw energy when he glances at me. I stare openly, swallowing his broad, heavily muscled chest with my eyes before feasting on his firm muscled stomach and long, powerful legs. Every time he moves muscles bunch and flex and I have to make sure my tongue isn't hanging out of my mouth.

I finally snap my eyes away, afraid I'll get so hard I have no place to put it and end up hanging with my erection bobbing around as it pokes out through one pant leg. Why did I bring such tiny shorts?

I know why.

Just being near him makes me want to pant. I can't think. It's like sitting next to a furnace. He doesn't say anything. His eyes are on the window, but he's looking at my reflection, I can see it. I arch back a little, enjoying the feeling, like sunning myself, knowing his eyes are raking down my stomach to my cock. It's hard to think that word. It verges on the profane.

When he actually does look out the window, I steal a look between his legs and immediately shiver with excitement. Can he really be that big, or is it some kind of optical illusion? He's the biggest man I've ever met, in more ways than one.

Thankfully, the drive here, at least, is short. I almost leap out of the car to get into the air. It's a little cool at this time of year, but still late summer warm and the ocean will be right for swimming. James walks up next to me on the sidewalk and stares.

"This is a big beach," he says. "I'm used to it being a lot shorter, the water being closer in."

I nod. "I thought you'd been here before."

"I wasn't hitting the beaches. I suppose you want to swim."

"Come on," I say, leading the way.

For such a big man, he walks lightly on the sand, once we're past the sidewalk. The sun hammers the beach, even later in the year, and by the time we reach the ocean, we're both shining with sweat. I can't look at him too hard. The throbbing sensation in my belly wants me to leap at him and lick off the sweat.

I step into an incoming wave and water rushes up around my rubber swimming shoes. A yelp catches in my throat. It's warm enough to swim, but it's still cold, and now I'm shivering beneath that layer of sweat. James crosses his big arms.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I am," I say, marching steadfastly into the sea.

There aren't a great many swimmers, but there are some. I was a little worried it'd be just us—a bad sign.

"You okay?" he asks, once we're waist deep.

"F-fine," I manage through teeth on the edge of chattering.

I get used to it, though, as we go further out. I haven't been swimming for a while but soon we're at chest depth and there I stop. Any further out and the waves get too big for me, too different from the New England beaches where I grew up. The water glides and sluices around my body.

James leans into it, then dives abruptly and comes back up, throwing his head back, his hair now slicked to his head with water.

I do the same, bracing for the shock, and come up wet.

The best part of all this?

I don't have to hide my hard-on. I swim away from him a little, more wading, really, and lean back into the water, a sudden thrill rippling through me. My cock is nice and hard and pointed right at him.

A wave rolls in, drawing the water out from under us. I scramble not to fall, sucked down by the current, and just barely keep my feet. James adjusts and stands up, and for a moment the water sinks beneath his shorts before covering him again.

The sight of his erection seems to suck all the blood out of my head, like fainting and a head freeze from too much ice cream, both at the same time. All at once, a tingly rush passes through my body. I paddle through the water closer to him.

"What are you doing?"

"For the cameras," I say.

"What cameras?"

I stand up in front of him, inches from him, not tall enough to look him in the eyes but in the chin, and press my hands to his chest. His skin is slick with wet and warm, too warm even, almost feverish by contrast with the water, and then...

My cock brushes his, bumping into each other. His eyes go wide. A wave rolls, breaking around us, and throws me into him. Or maybe I threw myself into him. I glide down his chest and…oops.

I catch his shorts and yank them down. In the confusion of the wave his erection brushes my chest and neck, and when he yanks his shorts back up just as the water sinks again, it presses flat against his belly before it's covered again.

Wow. That is...wow. My whole body pounds, as if it's pumping the blood into my heart instead of the other way around. All I can do is stare at him, mouth open, my own shaft throbbing, my balls tight like little fists between my legs. I've never wanted physical contact with someone as badly as I do right now.

So, I go for it. I leap up and plant a kiss on his chin, then dive away, pumping my body like a damned dolphin so my ass, half covered by my shorts, rises above the water as I swim from him.

I can hear him following me, splashing in the water and sputtering. Scrabbling for purchase in the sand, I get my feet under me and rise from the water, yanking my shorts up as I go.

When I look back, I nearly stumble. James rises magnificent from the waves, like a raging storm god. He could have been sculpted by an ancient master.

Well, except for one detail. Those sculptors never made their creations so endowed. As I dart across the sand, he chases after me.

"Where are you going?"

I don't care, as long as he follows me.

The beach is nearly deserted. I see a building ahead—a bathhouse, I think. That's the way I go, slowing as I reach it. I was right; there's bathrooms and a line of shower stalls along the outside.

"Phoenix?" James says, following me under the roof. It's actually hotter under here, where the air doesn't move. We're alone, no one visible on the beach. Someone walks by on the sidewalk, but they're so far away they're barely visible, and then gone.

Panting, I stare at him.

"Tag," I say, and whap his chest with my palm.

I don't make it two steps before he grabs my arm.

It's like an electric current, a current that bolts up my arm and through my chest, makes my head spin, and almost makes my dick tear through my shorts. He spins me around, not too firmly, and pins my back to the wall, holding my wrists.

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

Panting, I arch forward and press my lips to his, drag my chest along his muscled form, and moan into his mouth. An earth-shattering, heart-freezing moment extends into a bounded eternity as I wait for him to react.

Then his mouth opens. It feels like being swallowed as his tongue invades me and I'm against the wall. His bulk presses me firmly into cold concrete, trapped between freezing and furnace heat, our bodies pressed as our cocks push into one another's bodies. I can feel the weight and thickness of him against my stomach, the tight heat of his balls pushing into my leg. He's so hard now he can't contain it in those tiny shorts and I can feel the head hot and pulsing against my bare skin.

I somehow manage to wriggle out of his grip and attack him, showering kisses and licks on his chest, the wet hair tickling my lips and cheeks as I work down, surrendering to instinct. He looks around frantically as I take to my knees and yank his shorts down, then grab his bulging cock with both hands and wrap my lips tight around the head.

His moan echoes under the roof.

"Someone might see us," he breathes, but it melts into a long groan as I take him deeper inside, looking up at him as my cheeks hollow from sucking. It's so hot.

I've never done this before and I didn't know what I was missing. The velvety soft skin wrapped around an iron core, the heat, the taste—his own mingled with the ocean water, warm and salty and even a little sweet. I don't even know if I'm making this feel good until he groans and grabs the back of my head. A thrill shudders through my body as I realize he's gaining control, guiding me, using me as an implement for pleasure. Just the thought of that makes my cock so hard it feels like I'll orgasm without a touch, just explode right here while I'm crouching and blow all over the concrete floor. I even slip out of my shorts and flinch from the cold air on my shaft and balls.

James looks around.

I look up, and our eyes meet.

Something clicks. I make the first push, a silent declaration, maybe a permission. Then his big cock is going down my throat, my eyes wide, stunned by how easily it happens. I suck and tug and rub for a few moments, then he goes back to fucking my throat until my eyes star over, then it's my turn again.

He throws back his head, leans on the wall with both hands, and moans as he explodes in my mouth, pumping it down my throat as I swallow and swallow, a wild ecstasy swimming through my mind. His stomach heaves in front of me and his legs quiver when I run my hands down his thighs.

Then I'm on my feet, dragged up by his powerful hands locked around my biceps. He kisses me fiercely, and I can't keep my hands off of him, roaming over his wet skin and his still hard cock. He shudders when I cup his balls in my hands. I could do this for hours.

James shoves his hand in my swim trunks, stretching them as he wraps his hand around my shaft. I'm painfully hard, throbbing pulses rippling through my body to the tip. I groan as he strokes, melting against him. He shoves my shorts down to my knees and pushes me into the wall—this time grabbing my hips.

His mouth is explosively hot and wet, and I cry out, my voice echoing perilously under the roof. Suddenly self-conscious, I snap my head from side to side. Off in the far distance, someone is walking, but they didn't hear. Panting, I groan as my knees buckle.

When I look down, James has swallowed me, taken me all in. He holds me there as I struggle, clenching every muscle in my body, gritting my teeth as I try desperately not to finish, but I cry out again as the pleasure rips through me.

I...nothing has ever felt this good. It's so incredible it edges almost into pain. He rises and drags his hands up my body, kissing me again, our tongues gliding over each other. He jumps when I nip at his chin with my teeth and stands there shuddering when my tongue glides over his chest. His hands skim down my back and grip my ass hard, digging into the muscle, kneading and mashing together and spreading. A sudden new urge jolts through me, a void that reaches up into my belly. A new desire. To be...filled.

Then, just as quickly, he breaks contact and shoves himself in his shorts.

"Fuck, someone might see us."

"Language," I mutter.

He gives me a flat look, then ducks under one of the beach showers, holding his shorts away from his body to let the water flow between his legs.

Confused, a painful thump in my chest, I do the same, standing next to him, fighting the urge to look at him, the desire to say something, anything, to fill the air. His mountainous presence fills my mind and makes the world swirl and it's all I can do not to grab him and shove my face into him and sniff and lick. His scent is intoxicating, like a drug, and I've taken my first hit.

He stands there, leaning on the wall, even as the water stops.

"We didn't bring towels," he says.

Then he abruptly turns and leaves. I race after him, shivering as the late summer air plucks the water from my skin, feeling the burn on my neck and shoulders. I should have worn sunscreen.

He keeps walking, towards Venice.

Quickly we pass the pier and the Ferris wheel and wander onto a boardwalk through a more crowded area. I struggle to catch up with him until he slows, rather than force his way through the throng. The place is chaotic, and I quickly grow overwhelmed. There are street vendors on both sides of the boardwalk, selling everything from velvet paintings to "shitty advice—$1." That doesn't even begin to describe the other beachgoers.

Plus, the smell.

"Is that—"

"Yeah," James confirms. "It is."

"I thought it wasn't legal to use it in public."

"You going to tell him?" he says, gesturing to a police officer walking by, hands on his duty belt as he swaggers along, looking over his sunglasses at a pair of scantily clad beach babes.

"Just relax," he says.

"Relax? I think we should talk."

"What about?"

"About what just happened."

"Not here," he says.

I swallow hard, and a cold lump sinks from my throat to my chest, spreading frigid fingers through my lungs. What did I do? Was I too forward?

Eventually he stops, surveying the beach. We've walked for miles in water shoes and my feet are burning from the friction and salt water, but except for a slight dampness in my hair, I'm dry.

"Can you get us out of here?" he says.

"Driver will be waiting for us."

He nods.

By the time we walk back to the car, I'm exhausted and flop into the back seat. James scans the area and sits down on the far side of the car, hunching his shoulders together the way he does when he's conserving space. He looks grimly at his hands, flexing his big fingers.

Back at the house, he steps out and goes in first. I rush in behind him and throw the door shut, lunging for him.

"Let's pick up where we left off."

He catches my wrists. "Where is that, exactly, Phoenix?"

I freeze, pulling back slightly.

"Is this...did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?"

My head spins. How could he not have liked it? If he wasn't interested in me, wouldn't he have stopped things before he was sucking me off?

"Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"Like what, like a relationship? Like sex?"

"Either. Both."

I swallow that cold lump again. "No. Not really the one, definitely not the other. A few dates but none of them rose to that level and I stopped trying when other things satisfied me."

"I need to think," he says.

"Why?" I say, edging forward as he releases my hands. A feverish urgency heats my skin and I begin to grow hard again, that needy feeling gliding up my legs. My lips part, and I stare at him with what I think is smoldering intensity.

A brief flash of amusement flickers across his face like a flash of lightning and is gone again.

"I really need to think. Aren't we leaving soon?"

"Later tonight," I say.

"Then go get cleaned up and get some rest so we won't be late. Your calendar says you have an event in New York day after tomorrow."

"Yes, true, but—"

"Phoenix, not now. Just give me some room to think."

"Are you...aren't we...will you be my..."

I can't finish a sentence. It's like a fist in my throat chokes every thought. Now I feel hollowed out in a bad way, a gnawing emptiness spreading in my chest like someone opened me up and scooped out all the meat. I turn and rush up the stairs, leaving him behind me.

"Phoenix, wait, don't—"

"We leave at seven," I call back over my shoulder, failing to force my voice to be even.

In the bedroom, I slam the door and lean against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. It strikes me that I just acted precisely as I did when I was six or eight years younger. I feel like an unruly teenager again. The age of hormonal storms was not a pleasant one for me and regressing makes me shudder.

For a while I just sit there, cold hardwood floor making my ass ache, then I get up and wander into the bathroom, peel off my shorts, and dive under my third shower of the day, this one prolonged and hot. Emerging with steaming skin scoured by soap and scalding water, I walk into the bedroom with a towel over my shoulder and let out a high-pitched scream.

A moment later, James is pounding on the door. Finding it unlocked, he throws it open and rushes inside, sparing me only the briefest glance before his eyes lock on the package waiting for me on my bed.