Chapter 13 #2
I got a peek of his lace underwear that night in his apartment when he’d rolled to the floor, but I hadn’t seen more than the hem. And as I stand, blatantly staring at him, I decide that lace is my weakness. Or more accurately, Darius in lace is my weakness.
With a shit-eating grin on his face, he steps forward and taps me on the cheek.
“Try not to take losing too hard, okay?” And then he’s off, his feet kicking up sand as he runs towards the waves.
I finally work my trousers off, throwing them aside and then covering the distance between us as fast as I can, catching up to Darius as he jumps over the first wave, shrieking when the icy water hits him.
He slows down, his earlier eagerness waylaid by the temperature of the water, and I use it to my advantage, running ahead of him until the gentle swell is lapping at my chest.
“Too cold for you, angel?” I taunt, dipping my hands beneath the water and splashing lightly in front of me. His eyes track the movement and he shakes his head.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I splash a little harder, droplets hitting his chest.
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Oliver.” He takes a step back.
“Darius.” I splash even harder, while moving closer to him.
He smiles, but he’s shaking his head. “Don’t you fucking –” he doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out before I’m darting forward, tackling him around the waist and throwing us both beneath the surf.
We both break the surface of the water, catching our breaths.
Darius shakes the hair out of his eyes, a huge smile taking over his whole face.
“Asshole,” he laughs, splashing water at me before he turns and legs it in the opposite direction.
I give chase, using my arms to propel me through the water.
Then I dive beneath, grab his legs and pull him under.
When he comes up, he’s laughing so hard he can barely breathe. He holds up a hand in surrender, tricking me to lower my guard as he darts forward. I catch him, my arms wrapping around his back as his legs encase my hips and his hands land on my shoulders.
Time pauses. The only movement the swell of the sea.
“Hi,” he whispers, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. A strand of hair has fallen in front of his eye, and I unclasp my hands to push it aside.
“Hi.” My voice is husky and the adrenaline from our play fighting and his almost naked proximity to me is making my pulse race.
My cock is half hard in my black boxers, but when Darius moves and the lace of his shorts rubs against me, an obvious bulge within, my arousal grows.
My desire for him at an insurmountable level.
Darius moves his hip again, his eyes closing as his hands tighten on my shoulder. I’m frozen on the spot and not because of the cold, but because I’m afraid I’ll ruin whatever this moment is if I move or speak.
His lips part, his eyes opening, and then he’s looking at me.
His face is inches from mine and it would be so easy to lean in and snap the restraint we both seem to be holding on to.
Darius fiddles with the strand of hair next to my ear as his body shivers in my hold, the chilly air brushing his skin.
“It’s really fucking cold,” he says, teeth chattering. I move my hand up his spine, only then noticing the goosebumps on his skin. And as much as I would have loved the moment to stretch on longer, I can’t deny that he really is cold and needs to get out of the water.
“Let’s get you dry.” I put him down in the water, and we make our way back up the beach. The sun is still up, but the air has cooled. We don’t have towels, so I wrap my shirt around Darius.
“What about you?”
I jump on the spot, shaking my arms out. “I’ll air dry. I’m good.” My lips quiver and I hold the bottom one between my teeth so he doesn’t see how cold I am.
But Darius notices everything. He uses my shirt to rub himself dry, then does the same to me before we slide our now sandy trousers back on.
“Ready to go?” Darius asks once he’s buttoned up his shirt. I’ve pulled my vest on and while I’m dry, I am starting to feel the cold. Taking one final look around the cove, I nod.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
As Darius and I make our way back over the rocks, a ray of sunlight catches on a small pebble in the shallow of a rock pool.
I scoop down and pick it up. It’s oval and smooth, grey with wavy blue and green swirls wrapping around it.
I slide it into my pocket as we walk the rest of the way back through the dunes to Darius’s car.
“I need food,” Darius exclaims as he slides into his seat.
My stomach grumbles. The toast and fruit I ate this morning, a distant memory.
We didn’t go back to my mother’s place for the after funeral lunch and I didn’t want anything when we pulled up outside a convenience store on our way to the beach so that Darius could get a snack. “What do you fancy?”
He’s looking at me expectantly, and I run through the options in my mind.
Everything I think of leaves my stomach churning.
It’s easier to eat in front of Darius when his focus is on the TV.
Less so when he’s sitting opposite, his eyes scanning the little bits of food that pass my lips.
That’s a lesson I learnt as a child trying to hide my struggles with food – it’s easier when no one is watching.
Thankfully, we never ate meals at the table when I was a kid and my parents paid little attention to what I ate.
I worked out what I could stomach and how much I needed to eat to stay healthy, and they never noticed if I skipped a meal or said I ate when I hadn’t.
But Darius notices things – he sees me, and it’s only a matter of time before he asks about it.
“You decide,” I finally say, when I can’t settle on anything. He starts the car and drives us through the town, heading back towards our accommodation.
Darius pulls up outside a kebab shop and we buy halloumi and salad wraps, eating them side by side on a picnic bench on the village green. He’s quiet as he eats and I use all my willpower to eat most of my meal, hating the way it sits like a brick in my stomach.
I scratch at a spot on my leg, an old habit I’d broken a long time ago, but one that seems to have found me again since we arrived back here. Darius eases my hand away, linking our fingers together.
“Do you want to leave tonight? I know we’d planned to stay till tomorrow but – ”
“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before he can finish his sentence. I’m done here, ready to put this place behind me.