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In the whole of Shiro's life, there have been three times that he has been struck speechless.
And on this day, here on the beach, Takashi Shirogane finds himself speechless a fourth time.
Because there is the most beautiful man in the world acting as the lifeguard. With gorgeous tanned brown skin and legs for days, a twink for the ages, sculpted by the gods themselves.
And oh, but Shiro wants. Wants to run his hands all over that skin, to kiss it, to worship this absolute beauty of a man.
Shiro's speechlessness is enough, then, that he doesn't realize that he's got his mouth open or kept his back to the ocean until the wave catches him. Thrashing in the water, Shiro works to find his footing again, to find where up and down are and make for air, even as water fills his mouth and he chokes on it.
And then, in the midst of his panic, strong arms pull Shiro close, pull Shiro toward up and toward air. He surfaces, feet scrabbling for purchase on the sand below, and is helped back to the shore while coughing up what little saltwater he'd managed to swallow.
“It's alright. Let's get you back on dry land and checked out. Did you inhale any of the water?” A beautiful voice, smooth like silk and comfortable like well-kept leather, murmurs at Shiro, and between coughing fits he manages to shake his head. Water had nearly gotten swallowed, yes, but Shiro's sure that his chest would be feeling much like it was on fire if he'd managed to inhale any of it. As it stands, he's left coughing and gagging up the last vestiges of saltwater all the way back to the shore.
Shiro's thankful for the time, and even more thankful for the offer of a seat and a dry towel, before he realizes just who it is that saved his life.
The lifeguard, the very one that Shiro had nearly died drooling over, is beaming down at him with a soaking wet white shirt clinging to every bit of his skin.
“Hnnglarb,” Shiro says, before hacking up half a lung onto the beach. Out of all the ways for Shiro to meet someone, nearly drowning because of the guy was near the bottom of the list. As soon as Shiro felt less light-headed, and considerably less like his lungs and stomach were trying to claw their way up his throat and sun themselves on the beach, he sank back in the chair with a wheeze. A small bottle of water is offered to him, and Shiro stares at the hand offering it, following the arm back to the incredible beauty that is the lifeguard.
As it so happens, now that Shiro isn't dying he can really appreciate the beauty that is the fact that this man is no twink but a twunk, with sleek biceps and abs that were utterly shredded. The soaked shirt left absolutely nothing to the imagination, much less the red speedos clinging to the curves of his, well, everything.
Distantly, Shiro was so glad he was sitting down, and half-covered in a towel large enough it could be called a blanket.
“You don't have to drink it,” Hot Twunk Lifeguard, Holder of Shiro's Immortal Soul, offers. “You can just use it to get some of the lingering saltwater taste out of your mouth.”
“Gay,” Shiro says, taking the bottle, before freezing. “I mean ass– abs– yes. Yes. Thank you.” He pauses, adding belatedly with a faint gesture at his face. “Shiro.”
Hot Twunk Lifeguard, Shiro's New God to Worship, laughs. The sound brightens Shiro's soul, and he swears he can feel years added to his lifespan. “Lance. Bi. It's nice to meet you, Shiro. I wish it was in a different situation, though. Almost drowning isn't a good way to meet people.”
“I met you,” Shiro offers, and takes a swig of water in the faint hopes that it would make his voice sound less like he'd almost died.
“You did.” Lance nodded, glancing down at his soaked shirt before huffing in annoyance. Shiro nearly drowns a second time when Lance pulled at the shirt, revealing his washboard abs and the V curves of his upper pelvis, and Shiro wants to kiss it, wants to run his hands all over every inch of skin.
Shiro wants to lick Lance dry.
Instead, Shiro takes another swig of water in the even fainter hopes that it would quench his sudden and intense thirst.
It doesn't.
“Food?” Shiro blurts out, before cringing. “I, uh, want to get you something to eat? Later? When you're not saving lives?”
“Is this you asking me on a date?” Lance grins, and once more Shiro feels like the sun is beaming at him. “Well, how can I say no to a beauty like you? My shift ends at four and there's this incredible Italian place down the boardwalk. Are you free?”
“Yes!” Shiro smiles, basking in the opportunity to be with the sun, with Lance. “Yes. I would love you. That! I would love that.”
Lance laughs, patting Shiro on the back. “It's definitely a date.”