That hammock is probably not made for two people, but I'm imagining what it would be like to be lying there with him. Cuddling and maybe taking a little snooze (I'm tired haha) while listening to the waves and feeling the breeze and the sunlight... That's not at all sexy I know. But maybe that happened after sexy times, or before. ;)
It’s tight in the hammock. It’s not intended for two people, but neither of you are complaining. Link holds you close against his chest while he takes the last sips from his coconut. You nuzzle your face into the tanned skin, warmed from his time in the sun. You rock in his arms, eyes closed as you listen to the soothing sounds of waves crashing on the beach. He plants a small kiss on the top of your head and murmurs a few soft words about what he’s going to do to you later that night. For now, though, you’re both content to cuddle together in this little piece of paradise.
Rhett's eyes are locked on him. He's watching, like always. And it's never just a casual look or a disinterested glance. No. It's always, without fail, an intense gaze that leaves Link feeling open and laid bare in front of the cameras and all of the Mythical Beasts. And, sure, maybe he's imagined Rhett's eyes watching him like this in other circumstances, when he's naked and covered in a sheen of sweat and moaning, but this is different. Why do Rhett's eyes have to be so fixated on him when they're filming a predictable, familiar food episode of GMM? All he's trying to do is take a bite of this banana in the most innocent way possible, but Rhett is looking at him like his mouth holds the answers to all of the questions of the universe. He can only imagine the intensity Rhett's eyes would hold watching him take something else between his lips. Link would give anything to experience that outside of his imagination. He meets Rhett's eyes, raises his eyebrows as he all but deep-throats the banana, and accepts the fact that—for right now—this will have to be enough.
Link, who had just shoved a bite of pie in his mouth, choked. When he recovered, he said, “Why the hell would you say that to me when I have a mouthful of pie?”
Rhett smirked. “It’s because you have a mouthful of pie.”
Link wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re gross.”
Rhett leaned forward across the table, dipped his voice lower, and raised his eyebrow. “Imagine me fucking your mouth while it’s full of pie.”
“You’re gross,” Link repeated, but he couldn’t lie: he was intrigued.
Putting this one under a cut because filth. I guess it can be read as a sequel to Kilt.
This is payback for the kilt. Your move, McLaughlin.
Rhett furrowed his brow as he looked down at his phone. It was early morning so he wasn’t fully awake, but the text from Link made no sense. They were on the tailends of their respective vacations. They had agreed to stay out of contact during their time away from each other. And, sure, Rhett had tweeted at him about his obsession with hydration, but that wasn’t the same as sending a text. He was poised to write back when he noticed another notification. This one was from Instagram; Link had made a new post.
When Rhett opened the app, he sucked in his breath at what he saw. The pictures of Link in a hammock—startlingly phallic corn on a stick in one hand, coconut in the other—were gorgeous. Rhett smiled fondly as he drank up every detail of Link’s shirtless form. It was difficult for him to choose his favorite part of the photos, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the salt and pepper stubble lining Link’s face. Maybe it was time for them to reconsider the impact on the brand if Link had a beard, too.
The brand. As if that’s what he wanted to think about just then. No, he wanted to imagine that stubble against his thighs as Link kissed and nibbled his way up Rhett’s legs. He stifled a moan. This wasn’t the place to have these thoughts.
Rhett slipped off to the bathroom. The door didn’t have a lock, but it was early enough that none of the others in the house should bother him. He would just rub one out quickly and ignore Link’s taunts until they were both back in LA.
That was the plan, anyway. And then he got worked up thinking about Link’s lips around him, that scruffy face turning his skin pink and raw. Soon after, he found himself framing a picture of his hand wrapped around his dick, semen dribbling down his knuckles. It was obscene and filthy in all the ways he knew would drive Link mad; before he could talk himself out of it, he sent it to Link with a simple message:
Link blinked up at him. “Gonna squirm in your lap when we get home.” He had intended this to come out as a whisper, but his slurred words were loud enough that they made Rhett wince.
“Shh,” Rhett said, glancing at the Uber driver, who seemed more interested in weaving in and out of traffic than the two men in the backseat.
“Right.” Link pressed his wet mouth against Rhett’s ear, and then said, just as loudly as before, “When I said ‘squirm’ before, you know I was talking about sex, right?”
Camping had taken on a new meaning ever since Rhett had gifted Link with a star. Sure, they teased each other about it, joking about how it had played well on camera and that Link's star was next to one named any number of variations on scatological humor. But, when they were sitting alone together under a vast sky filled with constellations, they shared soft looks and words of love that were reserved for moments like this.
Link had certain tells when he was jealous. In front of others, he crowded close to Rhett, even closer than normal. He let his touches signify to anyone watching that Rhett belonged to him: a hand lingering on his arm, or fingertips pressing into his lower back. Once they were alone, he expressed his jealousy in other ways: hands tightly gripping hair as his hips drove his length deep into Rhett’s mouth, or a steady mantra of possessive proclamations in time with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. And Rhett? Well, Rhett didn’t mind any of that one bit.
Lights meant humans. Humans meant danger. Something about this light felt different, so Rhett dared to swim closer. He surfaced, hoping to get a glimpse of the vessel that had drawn him here with its illumination. He unexpectedly found himself face-to-face with a human unlike any he’d seen before; the man floated peacefully in the water. When he heard the splash, he jerked upright, fixing his striking blue eyes on Rhett.
“No freakin’ way.” The man reached out a shaking hand toward Rhett. “Are you real?” His voice was like music.
Rhett smiled and dove under, letting the man get a good glimpse of his tail as he did so. He surfaced again, further away this time, but still close enough to hear that beautiful voice.
“Wait! Don’t go,” the man pleaded. “I’ve been on that boat by myself for so long. Please, stay for a little while.”
Rhett hesitated. He seemed harmless enough, but was it a trick? He’d heard tell of merfolk being taken by humans.
“I’m just so lonely,” the man whispered. The genuine sorrow in his voice made the decision for Rhett. He dove under, swimming toward the light and the lovely, lonely man once again.
