tarnished -- epilogue -- trekker |
Epilogue | |
Ethan stretched luxuriously on the rope hammock, carefully tugging each muscle and letting the tension relax away, like he was melting in the light of the warm, yellow sun. Oh, bliss. Haiwaii was a vast improvement over the shambles of L.A. He reached a lazy arm out and found his cool mai tai on the deck beside him, picked it up and took a small sip of the coolness, not opening his eyes behind his sunglasses.
Rupert hadn't even had to be talked into getting this quiet, secluded bungalow, well away from the hotels where Council funds had put up the army of Slayers for a week of well-deserved rest and rejuvenation--a part of the Council's new, humane policies. Ethan really liked the Council's new, humane policies.
He also really liked the head of the Council. Yes, indeed. Especially when he came bearing refills for Ethan's drink, and then carefully climbed in the hammock with him, trying not to spill them both out onto the sand.
"Mmmmm," Ethan said, which was as coherent as he planned to get for the rest of the day.
Giles made a few similarly meaningless but happy sounds and wriggled until they were both enmeshed in the rope, pressed together, body to body. Warm sun, warm bodies, cool palm shade, the only sound the calls of seabirds and the rush of the surf. This was definitely the kind of life Ethan could see himself happily leading.
Well, ok, for a few hours, anyway. Any longer and the craving for stimulation would grow too much to be ignored. Then he could drag Giles off to one of the island's gay clubs. Oh, yes. Ripper claimed to not like to dance, but once he was persuaded, he moved with the same grace he fought with.
Ethan reached up and stroked Rupert's hair.
***
Giles hadn't been enthused when Ethan had demanded they go out dancing. He didn't dance. However, as often (though not always) was the case, Ethan was right. They returned to their little bungalow well into the night, not even drunk, just high on the adrenaline of moving and loud music and each other's bodies. Giles kissed Ethan deeply, knocking him back against the door to their cabin, and Ethan's hands slid up under his shirt, running a staggered route up his sweat-sticky back.
"Have you ever made love in the ocean?" Ethan murmured, pushing his lips close to Giles' ear.
Giles shuddered and said, "Yes, and it was sandy and awful, and no, we're not going to."
He worked one hand around behind Ethan and undid the lock, groping Ethan's arse with the other, partly to distract him from his plans for aquatic adventures, but mostly just because he was very fond of Ethan's arse. Then he shoved the door open and caught Ethan before he could *actually* fall through the door, and they continued kissing all the way over to the little window seat on the opposite side of the small room. Giles had worked Ethan's shirt off on the way over, so Ethan gasped at the cool glass panes against his bare back when Giles pressed him there gently.
The rhythm of the surf vibrated the glass. Giles undid and pulled off Ethan's trousers, went to his knees. Ethan groaned, already hard, and so beautiful: naked with moonlight falling over his shoulders, his head tilted back, his eyes closed, the entire Pacific ocean and a sky full of stars spread out behind him.
Then Giles shut his eyes and lost himself in the scent, the taste, the feel and the sounds of Ethan. Salt at the tip of his cock, heat and hardness of blood and desire firm on Giles' tongue. Whispers of need and want and love. Fingers curling and loosening in the fringes of hair at the nape of Giles' neck.
"Rupert, gods, Rupert, yes, you're so good at--oh, gods."
Giles ran his hands up and down Ethan's sides, thighs, anywhere he could reach, still drunk on the feeling of this body, this body that had been moving against him, almost making love to him, all night on the dance floor. Driving him insane, leaving him aching, hard, needy. Sucked and licked and moved his tongue just there where Ethan would moan every time, at just the slightest of touches.
Then, in a choked voice, Ethan said, "Don't--Don't make me come. Gods. Want to fuck you--"
Oh, god, yes.
Giles pulled back and looked up, watching Ethan's chest heave in the starlight. Ethan looked down with eyes dark enough to rival the night outside.
"Rupert..."
Nothing more than that. But he didn't need to say anymore.
Giles rocked back on his heels and pulled his shirt off, tossed it aside. Then he rolled to his feet, kicked off his shoes and dealt with his trousers and pants. He loved the way Ethan stared at him. It made him feel wanted, desirable. Just like the way Ethan had touched him all day, all night did.
But somehow, Ethan's small smile was the most affecting part of all. Giles smiled back, then walked the few steps to the kitchen island, to the bag of things they'd bought that afternoon. He took out the small tube of lube and turned to find Ethan pulling out the fold-out bed. He walked to Ethan as Ethan spread himself out across the sheets, smiling again, a slow-burning smile that promised a long night.
Giles crawled across the cool sheets and draped himself over Ethan. Again, they kissed, deep and hard, then soft and slow, just tasting each other, feeling each other. Didn't have to leave this bed for a week if they didn't want to... He breathed Ethan, lived Ethan. Loved Ethan.
Wanted him inside him.
He rolled to his back and Ethan followed him, like a moth drawn to light, coming to lie on top of him. He loved the solid weight, the hot hardness against his hip, and said so, whispered his love of this to Ethan between their damp, touching lips.
"Want you," he said, "Want you inside me. Fuck me, Ethan. Take me."
Ethan groaned deeply, scrabbled for the lube and found it. A moment later, he reached between them, and Giles drew his legs up quickly, spread wide, giving him room to slide his fingers down and then inside. Giles pressed his head back and moaned.
Ethan took his time, finger-fucked him slow and deep, reaching for and finding that spot that sent sparks up his spine.
"God, yes, Ethan. Oh, god."
"That's my boy," Ethan murmured, "That's it."
So hard, so good. Bloody hell, yes. His mind reeled with the pleasure of it.
"Want you," he gasped, then. "Please. Ethan, please."
"Yes, yes," Ethan said as he moved up, over him, lifted his legs and pushed them up, hooking Giles' calves around his shoulders. Fiery burn in his thigh muscles and then a new burn, of penetration, of Ethan sliding into him, slow and sure. There was barely any pain, though. He was relaxed, at ease, wanting this with all that he was.
When he opened his eyes, he found Ethan's looking down at him. Then Ethan began to move. And then, still inside him, still fucking him, Ethan let himself down across Giles' chest, let Giles' legs slide down around his hips. They kissed as Ethan reached between them.
"Everything," Ethan breathed. "My everything."
"Yes."
tarnished -- epilogue -- trekker |