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”So... why do we still have our clothes on?”
Maedhros threw a fond, but exasperated look at Fingon. He had to admit his boyfriend looked especially fetching today, in pale blue denim shorts and a t-shirt that proudly proclaimed ”Losgar beach party – bring your own torches”. He was deeply tanned, and his dark, curly hair was loose, reaching past his shoulder blades. His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else lurking in those blue depths, something that made them a bit darker than usual.
”We’re on a public beach.”
”So? There’s no one else here as far as I can see. Come on Maitimo... lemme see that perfect body of yours.”
”You saw it last night.”
”In our bedroom, in the dark. I want to see you in the sunlight... all soft, gleaming skin, fiery hair and freckles. Please?”
Maedhros swallowed. Fingon’s words made his blood suddenly rush south, leaving him a bit light-headed and almost deafened by his speeding heartbeats. It didn’t help that his lover’s voice had gone all deep and raspy, either. Maedhros desperately tried to kick his mind out of the gutter, but then Fingon stepped a little closer and put a hand on his shoulder, slowly sliding it down his chest, grazing a nipple lightly. The redhead let out a little moan at the contact, and Fingon looked up, catching his silvery eyes with his own, now more black than blue with desire.
He stepped back, still holding Maedhros’ gaze. ”Strip.” The quick intake of breath almost made Fingon smile, but he kept his features under control, giving his lover a stern look. ”Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”
Maedhros hardened instantly at the commanding tone, and hesitantly started pulling his t-shirt off. Bare-chested, he hazarded a quick look at Fingon and noted the blush staining his high cheekbones and the bulge in his shorts. This gave him the courage to continue, so he kicked his sandals off and started slowly shimmying out of his cutoffs. He stepped out of them, kicking them out of the way and accidentally creating a miniature sandstorm. He opened his mouth to say something, and Fingon descended on him like a starving man on a laden table, capturing his mouth with his own, one arm wrapping around his waist and a hand tugging his ponytail loose, red waves tumbling down almost to his waist.
Maedhros tried desperately to keep his balance, but Fingon had surprised him with his ardour and he lost his footing in the loose sand and fell onto his back, Fingon on top of him, still kissing him passionately. It took a while for the dark-haired man to realise that his lover wasn’t gasping in passion, but because the impact of the fall had made him lose his breath. He broke the kiss and rolled off Maedhros, giving him an apologetic look. ”I’m sorry sweetheart... I didn’t mean to suffocate you!”
The redhead took a while getting his breathing in order, then looked up at Fingon. ”So. Why are you still wearing all your clothes?”
Fingon managed to divest himself of both t-shirt and shorts in record time, quite astonishing considering he was still stretched out in the warm sand. He threw a heated look at Maedhros and stretched his arms towards him with an inviting smile. ”Now then... where were we? Mmmh... that seems... about... right...”
”You talk too much, Nolofinwion”, Maedhros informed him and silenced him with another heated kiss.
A few hours later, Fingon opened his eyes and squinted at the sun that was disappearing behind the dunes. He felt thoroughly debauched, every muscle in his body ached, there was sand everywhere... and he could feel a slight heat on his bare back. ”Oh shit... we forgot the sunscreen!”
A screech made him turn around and stare at his lover. ”Finno, what have I said about making me fall asleep in the sun? This is all your fault!” Maedhros’ shoulders and stomach were a bright red, and his face was a really lovely shade of boiled lobster.
Fingon tried, he really tried, but his laughter bubbled up anyway. ”Well, honey-bunny, your skin matches your hair perfectly! Ow! Stop hitting me!”
That evening, Fingon was unusually loving and romantic, coating Maedhros’ sunburns with after-sun lotion, bringing him tall glasses of iced tea and offering him foot massage. ”And I could go get us dinner... what would you say about lobster? No?” He ducked the throw cushion that came flying towards him. ”Well, how about some beetroot salad with chèvre?”