thethespacecoyote:

Rhys absolutely loved the beach.

When Vaughn had suggested they both use their days off to go down to the shoreline together, Rhys had immediately hopped about packing his day bag with everything he could possibly need. Snacks, soda, water bottles, ice cream money, towels, a change of clothes, sunscreen—there’s no way Rhys was going to ruin such a perfect day off by going off unprepared.

Vaughn had rolled his eyes at the overstuffed canvas bag that Rhys had hanging from his shoulder when he’d gone to pick him up, but Rhys didn’t care. He’d stuck his tongue out at his bro, telling him he’d be grateful when he was craving a chocolate dipped cone later on in the afternoon. He’d then changed the radio station from classic rock to top 40, earning him another exasperated look from Vaughn.

It wasn’t his fault. Steely Dan was not a beach day band.

The weather was absolutely perfect, the sun brilliantly shining but not too hot to be unbearable, just enough to be tempered by the cool breeze blowing in from the ocean. Rhys beamed as he stepped out from Vaughn’s car, wearing nothing more than a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a gauzy blue top that just barely covered his chest and the upper half of his stomach. Pretty blue designs crawled from his left pec down his arm to his wrist, matching the clear sky that hung above him. He loved any chance he had to show off his tattoos because sadly they were usually covered up at work. He’d spent a small fortune on getting the entire sleeve done and damn it, he wanted people to see it.

Rhys could barely contain himself as he waited for Vaughn to shoulder the beach chair and umbrella from his trunk, shifting his wait eagerly from flip flop to flip flop like the rest of the young kids excited to get down to the shore to build sandcastles and frolic in the waves. Rhys was practically skipping down the stone steps to the sand by the time Vaughn locked the car, already scoping for the perfect spot—just close enough to the water that it wouldn’t be a trek but far enough away that they wouldn’t be caught in the late-afternoon high tide.

Rhys set his bag down in the sand, pulling his huge, blue and yellow towel out of the bag before carefully laying it out on the ground. Vaughn trucked up behind him, unfurling the umbrella and wedging it deep within the sand as Rhys sat on his towel, stripping his crop top off before squirting the fat tube of sunscreen out onto his palm.

“You think they’re doing waterski rentals today?” Vaughn piped up as he wrenched open the beach chair, pushing it down securely into the sand.

“Someone just got paid,” Rhys snarked as he rubbed lotion all down his arms, looking at his friend with a raised brow, “you gonna get one?”

“Maybe. Might be fun, huh? You down?”

“Mmm, maybe later? I wanna get some sun first,” Rhys purred as he stretched his arm back over his shoulder to lather sunscreen on his back, “you go ahead and rent it if you want, though.”

“Cool, bro. You gonna be okay here?” Vaughn asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing those firm pecs and sculpted abs that poked at Rhys’ envy.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna lay down for a bit, you go off and do your thing okay?” Rhys pushed his white sunglasses up his noses as he set the sunscreen aside, stretching out against the towel belly-first. He nestled his chin against his folded arms, deeply breathing the oily smell of sunscreen mixed with the dispersed spray of the ocean waves.

The sun was a warm balm against his back, the light breeze ruffling his hair as he idly watched the other beachgoers playing in the cycling shallows of the water. There were some kids packing together muddied lumps of sandcastles dotted with found shells, teenagers walking by with lips sticky from their favorite frozen novelties, couples splashing each other playfully amongst the foamy waves.

It’s nice to take a vacation, Rhys thought, even if it was really more of a day-cation. It was the best he could ask for right now as he was working tirelessly to move up in Hyperion—sick of fetching coffee and coding mundane projects as he was. It was not the worst gig in the world but it was exhausting, and Rhys relished in the opportunity to just unwind and relax with all his favorite sights and smells and sounds around him.

He rested his head against his forearms, eyelids fluttering from behind his sunglasses. The sun felt so good against his back, his bare skin warming underneath its cascading rays. The sounds of the other beachgoers slowly melded into the crash of the waves, kissing Rhys’ ears gently as he cuddled against the towel, feeling the pliable give of the sand underneath him.

The warmth of the sand and the sun and the hum of the sounds around him slowly lulled Rhys into a doze, his brain pleasantly floating on the cool breeze as he zoned out.

He distantly heard and felt the thump of footsteps creeping up in the sand behind him. He vaguely wondered if it was Vaughn, returning from the waterski rentals, but he was so happy laying here that he didn’t move, only murmuring softly as he nuzzled against his forearm. He could feel the soft kick of sand against one of his bare feet, the light from beyond his closed eyelids flickering softly as a shadow cast over his back.

“Mmm…Vaughn?” He muttered dazedly as the towel shifted, dipping underneath a new weight settling between his spread legs. Rhys could feel something warm and prickly brush up against his calf, sending a tingle up his leg all the way up his spine.

A hint of something different touched his nose, wafting through the smell of the sea spray and the sunscreen and barbecue. It was the scent of teakwood and vanilla, like something Rhys would smell walking through the hallways of Hyperion.

It was somebody’s cologne.

So. Definitely not Vaughn.

He heard a spluttering sound, like air being let out of a balloon. Tiny droplets of something wet and thick splattered onto his legs, making his skin prickle. The creamy, chemical smell of sunscreen filled his nose, dominating the scent of ocean and this stranger’s cologne. Rhys shifted slightly against his towel, brain still sleepy and fuzzy. Alarm bells should be going off in his head but Rhys was completely serene, laying limp and dreamy out onto the sand as the stranger’s palm, thick and full with a cool glob of sunscreen, pressing onto the small of his back.

Rhys’ insides twisted at the feeling, the cool lotion slowly warming between Rhys’ sun-heated skin and the strangers broad, calloused palm. Rhys’ shivered at the size of the man’s hand, the base of his palm resting on the low waistband of Rhys’ shorts and his long, thick fingers resting just above the little dimples on the young man’s lower back. A second hand soon joined, smoothing against Rhys’ skin right next to its brother as the first hand started to rub the lotion into the young man’s blushing flesh.

A rational little prickle in Rhys’ mind told him to stop this, that a random stranger was feeling him up on a public beach, but the rest of him was enjoying the massaging touch of the strangers hands as he spread the sunscreen out over the length of the young man’s back. A little, happy mewl fell from Rhys’ slack lips as the hands smoothed up his sides, moving in little circles as they rubbed the lotion into his skin. His insides were starting to tingle, twisting slightly as warmth pooled downward into his crotch, tenting against his already tight swim shorts.

Oh, he was getting hard. Oh. He should probably be ashamed of getting aroused in such a busy, family friendly place, but he was so blissed out by the movements of the skillful hands that he could hardly care.

His hips shifted minutely, mindlessly rutting against the soft sand beneath the rough terrycloth of the towel. A dreamy smile splayed across his face, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he dazedly turned his head to the side, pressing his cheek flat up against his folded forearms. The man’s fingers continued to rake softly up to his upper back, tips expertly seeking out the little knots of muscles that had wound because of job stress and his shitty desk chair. He tensed, letting out a louder, more obscene moan as the fingers probed hard against the knots, sending shudders of ecstasy throughout the young man’s helpless body.

His cock was fully hard now, and despite how inappropriate and risky it would be, he wanted nothing more than for the anonymous pair of hands to drift back down and lift up his hips, slip those deft fingers into his boxers and stroke him off—or maybe even peel down the waistband of his shorts and breath warm and moist against his bare ass—

Rhys barely noticed that he’d been biting lightly against the soft skin of his forearm until he came, his jaw spasming as he bit down against himself harder. He half yelped, half moaned at the sting of the pinch and the warm coil bursting in his groin as he jerked forward, coming against the inside netting of his shorts as his hips rutted mindlessly against the ground.

He laid there, panting for a few seconds longer, eyelids fluttering in pleasure, before his mind properly woke up and reminded him about what the hell that he’s been doing and where he’s been doing it.

Dazedly, with spots of color bursting in his eyes, Rhys pressed a hand discretely over his crotch and waddled furiously towards the ocean, his cheeks flushed red from much more than just the sun. He looked furiously around the beach, trying to pinpoint exactly who had been his mysterious masseuse, but whoever it was had been quickly lost to the people crowding the sands.

He pouted, sitting up to his hips in the shallows as he let the cool water wash over his lower body.

No way he was going to tell Vaughn about this.

---

“Uncle Tim! Daddy’s back!” Angel cried as she hopped to her feet, grabbing her little pail and skipping over to where Jack was grabbing an ice cold cola from their fancy cooler. He cracked it open with a hiss, taking a long drink before smacking his lips and leaning down to affectionately ruffle his daughter’s hair.

“Hey, princess. You and Timmy have fun while daddy was gone?”

“Yeah! I built a sandcastle for my pony daddy!” Angel pointed to a lumpy looking sandcastle, studded with shells and topped with a slightly dirty pink and purple unicorn plush.

“Weren’t you supposed to be getting her a popsicle?” Tim asked from his bright colored beach chair, looking up from his book and flipping down his reading glasses. Jack groaned, smacking his forehead.

“Oh damn, you’re right…” Jack scratched some errant sand from his scalp, taking another sip of his cola, “guess you could say I got uh…a little sidetracked.”

He winked at Timothy. The younger man merely rolled his eyes and shut his book with a slap.

“Jack…”

“Chill, Timmy, don’t get your speedo in a bunch. I’ll take her in a sec,” Jack snorted as he wiped his hand on his shorts, before bending down to grab Angel’s smaller one.

“Ew, daddy, why is your hand all oily!” Angel made a face as she toddled after Jack, pink flip flops flapping happily against the sand.

“It’s just sunscreen, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. Now lets get you that strawberry ice cream pop, ‘kay?”

This is finished! Yay! I don’t know why I got this idea but it was kind of appealing.

Also yes that’s just sunscreen on Jack’s hands at the end. I’m not gross D: