Chapter 34 Wine-Dark Sea
WINE-DARK SEA
The Aegean hit me like a slap when I stepped out of the plane onto the tarmac in Mykonos.
Blue so intense it didn’t look real, a color cranked up past nature to an impossible digital palette.
The hot air shimmered with salt and sun as I walked across the open ground toward the low terminal building, sweat already beading on the back of my neck.
From the airport, I saw the harbor in the distance, with a tangle of fishing boats rocking against sleek white yachts. I heard the faint whine of scooters carrying multiple passengers, and the smell of grilled octopus drifted on the breeze from a nearby stand.
I’d never seen water this clear in my life.
The sunlight cut straight through it, turning the shallows into liquid glass.
Whitewashed houses stacked themselves up the hillsides like sugar cubes, doors and shutters painted the same impossible blues as the sea, laundry flapping from balconies like flags of surrender to the sun.
I took a cab to the address he’d given me. The villa sat high above the harbor, reached by a road so steep my cab driver crossed himself before starting the climb. White walls, blue shutters, and a terrace that looked like it belonged on a postcard.
Jonathan opened the door as I dragged my rollaboard suitcase up the driveway. “Welcome to Mykonos, Waldo,” he said, like he owned the whole damn island.
Inside, the place was cool and spare, stone floors, whitewashed walls, everything softened by sunlight bouncing off the water outside. I dropped my bag in the living room as Jonathan turned to me, grinning. “Bed first, sightseeing later.”
I didn’t need convincing.
We barely made it to the bedroom. Clothes came off in a clumsy rush, laughter turning into hunger as soon as skin met skin. The heat of him, the familiarity of his hands, the way relief slid so quickly into want, it all collapsed the weeks of distance into something urgent and undeniable.
He took me with the same certainty he brought to everything, and I let myself give in to it, to the simple truth of being wanted and held and known.
When it was over, we lay tangled together, breathless and spent, the Aegean breeze drifting through the shutters as if the island itself were exhaling with us.
Jonathan drifted off first, sprawled naked across the white linen sheets, one arm flung over his head. The Aegean light poured through the shutters and painted him in stripes, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm.
I should have followed him into sleep, but my body hummed with leftover energy. Carefully, I slid out of bed and padded barefoot across the cool stone floor.
The house was spare but beautiful, arched doorways, thick walls that kept the heat out, polished wood beams overhead. From the balcony I saw the whole island sprawled beneath us, the labyrinth of streets, the glittering water, windmills perched on the ridge like ancient sentinels.
The wind off the water carried salt and the faint sweetness of wild thyme. The island glowed in that late-afternoon sun, white walls blazing against the wine-dark sea. Ferries cut across the water, their wakes trailing behind like chalk marks.
For a moment, it felt like freedom, and then I wondered how long it would be before this place, too, started asking what it would cost to stay.
Jonathan stirred when I came back into the bedroom, blinking awake with a sleepy grin that made my chest tight. “Dinner?” he murmured.
“Dinner,” I agreed.
We pulled on shorts and polo shirts, baseball caps tugged low, sunglasses hiding most of our faces. Jonathan took my hand as we walked down into the town, through winding alleys lit by strings of fairy lights. No one gave us more than a glance.
We found a taverna by the water, tables spilling out onto a patio where the surf practically licked the floorboards. The air smelled of grilled fish and garlic, of sweet wine and cigarette smoke. We ordered calamari, tomato salad, lamb souvlaki, plates that kept arriving until the table was full.
Jonathan poured us wine, his grin soft behind his sunglasses. “You know, after the summer break we hit the Asian leg. Singapore, Japan, China. Whole different world.”
I speared a piece of lamb, chewing thoughtfully. “Do you like the travel?”
“I love the tracks,” he said without hesitation. “But the travel…it blurs together. Hotels, airports, private transfers. I want to show you Singapore, Waldo, not the paddock, but the real city. Night markets. Gardens. Marina Bay lit up like a spaceship.”
His hand brushed mine under the table, casual, but it set my pulse racing.
Later, full of food and wine, we walked back up the hill to the house. The island was alive with music, bass thumping from beach clubs, laughter spilling into the streets. But up here, the night was quiet, just the sound of waves and the distant call of gulls.
Inside, Jonathan tugged me close and kissed me, slow and deep, tasting of wine and lamb and the sweetness of honey from dessert. We stumbled back to the bedroom, shedding clothes as we went, until we landed on the bed in a tangle.
This time I rolled him onto his back, straddling him. His eyes widened, then softened, and he spread his arms out over the sheets like an offering.
“My turn,” I said, voice rough.
I kissed my way down his chest, tasting salt and sweat, teasing his nipples until he gasped. His cock was already hard, straining against his stomach. I slicked my fingers, worked him open slowly while he writhed beneath me, every sound he made pushing me closer to the edge.
When I finally slid into him, the heat nearly undid me. He clutched at my shoulders, gasping my name as I bottomed out. I held still, letting him adjust, kissing him until he moaned into my mouth.
Then I began to move. Slow at first, savoring every drag, then harder when he begged for it, his legs wrapped around my waist pulling me deeper. The rhythm built until we were both panting, sweat slicking our bodies, the bed creaking under us.
He stroked himself in time with my thrusts, his moans ragged. “God, Waldo, fuck, don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I drove into him until the pressure broke, spilling hard inside him with a groan that echoed off the stone walls. He came on top of me, spurting across his chest and stomach, his body convulsing around mine in a way that made me shudder all over again.
We collapsed together, sticky and spent, tangled in the sheets with the sound of the sea through the open shutters.