hawkwardly replied to your post “someone rubbing sunblock on someone and being a huge flirt about it”
ok but what about the follow up where they make out and are all sandy and smell like coconut and the sun is really warm and--
And, really, Seth hoped the sun would have burned the mental image of Filip sprawled in the deck chair, with his shorts hanging on to one slim ankle, breathing heavily with a come-streaked chest-- yeah, that image-- out of his head.
Or at least make his skin so tight he can’t think beyond the heat smoothing over it. Filip stirs, and Seth watches him through his sunglasses. Filip popped a boner, somehow, but yeah, going for a swim and then baking in the sun feels really great. So Seth doesn’t judge, instead peeks a little over the rim of the sunglasses, and Filip’s not red-- or even pink-- but the sunblock label said to reapply every three hours. The bright light makes Filip glow, like some weird-ass Swedish angel, and Seth pushes his sunglasses up his nose.
Filip startles at the smack of the plastic bottle against Seth’s palm, and makes a face at Seth’s smile. Seth feels like it might be a little too mean, but then Filip’s the one who wanted to lie out in the sun instead of being sensible and watching some third-rate movie. The sunblock squirts out hot and liquid, and they both smirk at each other.
Seth mutters, “I blame you, you’re a gutter mind.”
“Telling the truth, Jonesy,” Filip says, and doesn’t turn on his front. Instead he folds his hands behind his head. Seth raises his eyebrows behind his sunglasses, but fine, Filip wants to play chicken. Fine. Seth can do that. He can smear a splotch of sunblock up and down Filip’s chest, press down on the thin bruise he got from smacking himself against the weight. The bruise looks worse than it is, a dark brown against the laughable color Filip calls tan.
Seth slides his palm up, and stops, a nipple between his fingers, and Filip licks his lips. Seth slides his fingers closer, and turns out, fuck sounds almost the same in Swedish. Filip presses his hand over Seth’s, and leans up, just enough that Seth can lean down and--
Filip kisses, of course he does, he kisses Seth, too eager and making Seth’s blood rush.
Seth kisses back, his hands slipping all over Filip, the sunblock getting squished between both of them, and Filip grins. Seth pushes Filip back against the rubber slats of the deck chair. Filip grins wider, and Seth’s not going to say anything, just lies atop Filip, secretly glad he actually weighs more than Filip now.
Filip reaches to grope Seth’s ass, but then bitches about Americans and their stupidly long swimming pants. Seth kisses Filip, just as nasty as he’s been thinking about the last couple of hours, and says, “You could take them off. In the privacy of my room.”
Filip grins, “You could take mine off too. Just you know.”
Seth knows, now, doesn’t he.
