The thermometer on the bank sign reads a hundred and two, and I'm not having any trouble believing it. Sentinel senses on full alert can practically hear the sweat sizzling as it drips off me and onto the sidewalk.
It isn't just the heat, either. The air is so humid its more liquid than not; no longer oxygen, but water in a semi-gaseous form. I wonder how long until we have to start wearing scuba equipment in order to breathe outside.
If it's uncomfortable to breathe though, it's...odd, on skin that is hypersensitive. I can feel the hot moisture brush against my skin, rolling over me in thick, palpable waves. Microscopic droplets of water catch on the fine hairs on my arms and at the back of my neck, making me feel like I'm caught in a slippery, silken web. Something very fine and very invisible, but surrounding me completely.
Today is the day the truck would break down; the radiator just couldn't handle the heat any longer. Part of the problem is the vintage year. Sandburg laughs when I say that, says it's a macho cover-up, that we can't admit that old is old. Since he and the truck are the same age, I guess he's using any excuse he can get. When I say ~that~, he smirks right back, reminding me just who is even more vintage.
It's hot everywhere, and I'm standing on a corner broiling like someone's next lobster dinner, and wishing with everything I am for an air-conditioned room. Hell, the squad room at the station would be better than baking out here on the sidewalk. Right now the ocean is sounding pretty good; cool waves splashing against hot skin, making every pore on my body tighten up, raising goosebumps. I'd never considered the shivers an erotic experience until I'd gotten them with Sentinel-sensitive skin. If I think about it, maybe I can convince my body that it's there in the waves, with the cool and the hot meeting, raising steam together. The bottom of the ocean is covered in silt and sand, and pebbles that have been worn to a smoothness only glass can rival. The result, when it's walked on, is a soft, sensual massage on the bottoms of your feet, with this cool, silky stuff flowing over the tops and in between your toes.
I've walked along the water's edge every morning for the last three days, just enjoying the cool on my feet and legs. Its something I could get addicted to, that squishy-soft feeling. It's one of the most comforting, and conversely, the most arousing things I've ever felt.
Makes me kind of glad that Sandburg talked me into splurging for the place on the beach while the loft is getting painted.
If I can keep the visions of hot and cool mixing, maybe I can survive until the wrecker gets here to get me and the truck.
The a/c in the wrecker wasn't working, either. Figures.
I'm down to my shorts and a tee-shirt, and I'm still sweating bullets. Thing is, I can't get past the sensuality of it. Not of being hot, per se, but of the way my body is reacting. The different vibrations all through me when I shiver from a random gust of air; the way I can track each drop of sweat as it slides down my body. The fact that my tee-shirt is plastered to my body hasn't escaped my attention either, and I swear I can feel each individual cotton fiber as it shifts with me whenever I move. My nipples are hard, almost like I'm aroused. This whole thing is really weird, because on some level, I am.
Now, how do you explain getting turned on from a heat wave?
If the all-knowing about all things Sentinel were here I'd ask him. I'm sure he'd know. Or at least have an opinion.
I have no idea where Sandburg is, or when he'll be back. I think he had some stuff to take care of on campus, but I can't remember now for sure. I hope he's not hungry, or that he brings something with him when he comes in, because I'm not turning on any appliance that's going to generate heat. I'm doing just fine on my own right now.
It's not just my nipples; now my dick is getting hard. All I'm wearing is some cotton and a bunch of sweat. But it's like I can feel it moving on me, and my legs are sliding together and apart, and it's creating a sort of non-friction, which is almost as arousing as friction itself would be.
I have to get out of here, before I lose my mind.
If you can't die and go to heaven, then sitting with your feet in the cool ocean, while the wind gusts enough to get you wet with spray is the next closest thing.
I don't know how long I've sat there, alternating between digging my toes into the silt and sand, and raising them to let the water swirl up around my calves. It feels ~good~.
Almost as good as the ice-cold beer sliding down the back of my throat. Hot, moist air combined with cool water on the outside, augmented by cold liquid on the inside. I didn't know whether to shiver with a chill or sweat from the heat, and the combination of all of those is not only not helping my arousal, it's making it worse.
The sun is just about out of sight now, the only remnants left are splashes of gold and pink mixing on the edge of the horizon, turning into darker mauves and deep blue-purple that makes up the night sky. I'd like to lie back and watch the sky; I'm always amazed at what I can see, when I just ~watch~ things. Too much sand all around right now, though. Before my senses reared their collective heads, sand was a minor annoyance. Now it's an outright irritation, and I'm not going to get it all over my back; as sweaty as I am, it'd stick so bad I'd never get it off.
Fuck it. I can always rinse off in the ocean if it gets too bad.
I move down a little so I can have my legs completely in the water. The in-and-out of the waves makes the water lap at my waist, and I can feel the slight tension of suction whenever I shift. It's...erotic, in a weird way. Like tiny hungry mouths sucking at my skin, holding me down.
This is much better; even the irritation of the sand is secondary, and I can deal with it.
Maybe I'll close my eyes, rather than star-watch. At least for a few minutes.
Even if he tried to be quiet, I would hear him coming, especially on a night this quiet. By the time he reaches me I'm sitting up, trying futilely to brush the sand off my back. The soft clink of glass-on-glass tells me Sandburg's brought us each a beer with him. Mine got warm a while ago, so it sounds heavenly, until I realize that there's heat directly behind me.
I can feel the cold radiating against my neck as the bottle is lowered, and the short hairs there prickle in anticipation and dread. "Don't even think about it, Sandburg." Cool is one thing. Straight-from-the-refrigerator cold is something else.
There's a moment when I hold my breath, wondering if he's going to do it anyway, which will force me to jump up and pound his ass. I'm tense; every muscle in my body is holding ready. He obviously reconsiders and the cold retreats as the bottle is moved away and placed into my less-sensitive hand.
"Man, you are just no fun." His voice is cheerful, only mildly censuring. "Don't you know that cold is a ~good~ thing with it's ninety-plus degrees outside?"
Guess it's cooled down some from when I was the lobster-broil earlier. Any more it's hard to tell, even for me. It's been so hot for so long lately, my senses are frying as well.
"Not when it would shock my system into a shut-down." I give him a mild glare over the rim of my bottle, then wink.
"Bull. You're half in the water, Jim. Your system is probably cooler than mine." He makes a gesture toward himself and I swallow a laugh.
"If you wore something less than twenty layers, you might not be hot." Well, he'd still be hot, but we're talking a different kind here. And without the layers, he wouldn't be as likely to keel over from heat stroke.
"I'm not wearing twenty layers, and it's not just the temperature."
I choke on my swallow. Beer sucks when it goes up your nose; the carbonation is a killer. Sandburg pounds me helpfully on the back, then shakes his head. "See? Make fun of the little guy, and you get your repayment."
"Little, my ass." Well, my dick liked that thought; it jumped right up to grab my attention. Sandburg's too, if the look that just slithered over me is any indication. "What?"
"Well, you ~said~ 'my ass'... I was just checking things out." Blue eyes stare at me in Sandburg's imitation of innocent before he ruins it by winking lasciviously.
I grin. "Lecher."
"Stop, you're flattering me." He kicks his shoes off and rolls his jeans up his legs. "Anyway, I don't hear you complaining when I'm groping you."
"I never said I was complaining, Sandburg." Another swallow of beer; god, it feels and tastes good going down. "It's a good thing too, 'cause you do it often enough."
"In that case, don't forget 'over-sexed', when you're listing my better qualities." He peels off the outer shirt, and sure enough, has a tee-shirt beneath. That comes off too, and then my partner is leaning back on his arms, toes dipping into the water.
"Definitely can't forget that." I wink this time, amazed at how good I'm feeling right now. I'm cool, mostly, with the ocean at my feet and a beer in my hand, and even the hard-on throbbing in my shorts feels good, in an achy kind of way. "How much better does it get?"
A low, dirty chuckle rumbles out of Sandburg's chest and I grin when I realize I said that aloud. "It could get a lot better," his voice is low, kind of gritty, and it sends a shiver down my spine. "Depending on what you mean by 'it'."
"I was talking about life in general." I arch one eyebrow and watch him mirror it. "What were you thinking I was talking about?"
"Oh, you know." He grins at me again and I have to laugh.
"This is where 'over-sexed' comes into play, isn't it."
"Well," he stares at me consideringly, then reaches out and rubs his beer bottle over my tee-shirt where my left nipple is standing like its at attention. When I hiss at the contact he grins. "That's some of it, yes. But, y'know, Jim--you're a major contributing factor here."
"I don't see how that could be." My voice comes out as a gasp when he rubs again, this time moving the bottle upward so the condensation on it makes a wet trail from my nipple to my throat. "Stop teasing, Sandburg." It comes out as a growl. I swear this man can take me from zero-to-sixty in two-point-two seconds.
"Teasing? Who's teasing?" His voice is light, but his eyes give him away; they're smoldering, with the starlight above reflecting as small white-hot flames burning deep inside him. He pushes me back, one hand on my chest, and leans over to fasten his mouth on my neck, just above where the beer bottle still rests.
The combination of hot and cold so close together make me arch, a low groan rumbling out before I clamp my mouth shut.
"You taste like salt." His voice is tighter now, and the sensation of warm, moist breath against my skin makes me tip my head back, arching my neck. Sandburg smiles against me; I can feel his lips move. Teeth scrape gently, then harder, pinching me lightly, and I hiss, every nerve in my body jumping to red alert. "And I never tease. I always deliver, man." His breath ghosts over skin gone ultra-sensitive, his tongue following to soothe the goosebumps that erupt.
His face fills my vision for a moment and then he's kissing me, his mouth urging mine open. I hear his hiss when I tangle my tongue around his, and the grunt of surprise when I pull him down on top of me. The pungent, yeasty aroma of beer fills my senses as the bottle spills between us, forgotten when we tangled together. It's strong and earthy, and echoes the slick taste inside Sandburg's mouth when I slide my tongue all around, submerging my senses in him and our kiss.
"You have too many clothes on." I mean the words to come out light, playfully, but they're more of a growl, my hands searching impatiently for the hem of his tee-shirt. He yelps when I catch his ear as I pull it off, cloth and earrings tangling together.
"Not so hard, man. Take it easy, we'll get there--" Tee-shirt off, I shut him up the best way I know how, by giving his mouth something else to do. Like kissing.
His hands are hot on my skin, feathering along my chest, fingers rimming my nipples, making the hard points ache even worse. When Sandburg lowers his head and suckles through the damp cotton I whimper. I can feel the slick heat of his tongue stroking, rubbing the rough/soft cotton fibers against my tender skin. It's almost unbearably arousing; the combination of sucking and friction so pleasurable it borders on painful.
I don't want him to ever stop.
My fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close, begging with whispers and muted groans to suck me, lick me, eat me alive. He scrapes his teeth over one tight bud and I buck upward, rubbing my cock against his thigh. He grinds back, showing me forcefully how excited he is. When he raises his head, his eyes are like points of blue flame; their heat burns into me.
"You want it? Right here, right now?" Sandburg's voice is harsh, rough with passion, and the tone plays havoc with my own arousal, spiking it higher. He cups my cock and balls through my shorts, thumb rubbing up and down. I have a spot just below the crown that has always been sensitive; now, it's like setting fire to tinder; the sensations explode within me, setting my whole body on fire.
We shouldn't. This section of the beach is private, yes, but there's always someone out walking, wandering, swimming. Something. Getting arrested for public indecency wouldn't be a good thing for either of us. But his hands are hot on my body, and his body is squirming and wiggling beneath my strokes and caresses, and the water is lapping at both of us, cool fingers moving in and out, between our bodies. Instead of cooling me off, it's inflaming me, making me want him more.
My answer is a growl of undiluted need, and I'm reaching for the waistband of his jeans, my fingers shaking, I want him so bad. "Yes. Now."
Both of us are down to nothing but some sea foam and sand in just minutes, fingers pinching, pulling, stroking. At some point we've rolled more into the water than not, laying there at the edge where the tide washes around us and over us. In the tiny corner of my brain that always remains watchful for anything representing danger, I can laugh; this reminds me of the beach scene in 'From Here to Eternity'. Then a hot, wet mouth is closing over the tip of my aching cock, and warm fingers are rubbing and poking at the sensitive opening to my body, and even that tiny, watchful part of me forgets everything else.
Sandburg licks me thoroughly, his tongue doing wonderful, wicked things to my cock, making me throb and ache more fiercely. If he'd turn around I'd return the favor, but from where he's at right now, all I can do it anchor my fingers in his hair and go with the pleasure washing over me in waves. Two fingers ease into me, helped by the water surrounding us, and I whimper again when the coolness penetrates the heat of my body. It's one of the oddest, most erotic sensations I've ever experienced.
"You're so hot, Jim," his voice is nothing more than a whisper; as insubstantial as the sea foam coating us.
He's holding me open, his fingers splayed apart inside me. When the water flows inward I can feel a cool trickle inside me, and the hungry grin on his face grows when I arch upward, my legs spreading wider even as I dig my heels into the silt.
"Jesus, Sandburg--"
"Go with it, man." He bites my thigh, right near where my leg joins my body, and I gasp at the razor sharp pain that slices then recedes.
"In me...now..." I tighten my grip on his hair, forcing him up over my body again. Good as his mouth feels, I want his cock inside me; want to feel my dick rubbing against his belly, slicked with saltwater and foam.
The scents are all around me now, sex and ocean mingling, becoming one in the same. Salty, pungent, thick; if I open my mouth I can taste them, feel them moving inside me, becoming a part of me. The water moves around us, the motion of tide in-and-out the same as sex, an ages-old rhythm that's both exciting and lulling. Sandburg's quiet, his eyes holding mine. I wonder what he sees, when he stares at me like this. Within him I can see light and love, heat and passion, calm and strength. All the things that make up the man I know.
He's moving over me now, pushing my legs open. My body tenses in almost unbearable excitement, arousal pooling in my belly like lava inside a volcano: hot, thick, palpable.
"Easy...relax..." Thin whisper curling around me; I spread my fingers across his shoulders, stroking and rubbing, feeling the strength of the body moving into mine. "Perfect, Jim... so perfect--"
He's perfect; hard and long, thick and solid, made just for me. Or I'm made for him; I'm not sure there's a difference. The first push breaches me; my muscles tense, then relax at his nonsensical noises and whispers; I can hear myself whimper and moan. It hurts, but doesn't; more like a burning ache, especially without lubrication to ease the way better for us.
I don't care. The burn feels good, and the ache grows to become something to take over my body, pulling me into myself, into nothing but sensation after sensation.
Another push, then he's going deeper, his breath gusting in my ear, overlaid with a tiny, thick grunt as my body opens to swallow his. I shudder and raise my legs, wrapping them around his waist. The silt beneath me cradles us both, molding to our bodies while the water surrounds us, wrapping us in a cocoon of cool over heat.
"Blair...more..."
My whisper is lost inside a kiss; his tongue touches mine, teases it into playing even as he's moving, pulling hot, hungry sounds from me, from himself.
"Yes...." He groans when I pull my mouth from his; the groan turns to a hungry growl when I bite his throat. He thrusts inside hard, and I bite down harder, the taste of sweat and sea filling my mouth again.
Faster, harder, the water is churning up around us. My cock aches, I'm so hard. The explosion isn't far off; with each rock and thrust of Sandburg's body into mine I can feel myself tip a little further toward the edge, balancing on the precipice there.
"Now, Jim...ohgod...~now~!" His words are a sob, and in spite of them, I probably feel his orgasm beginning before he does. His body heats up under my fingertips, the blood rushing through him to fulfill his body's demands. His breathing increases, rough and panting in my ear, speeding up to match the incredible pounding of his heart against my chest. I stiffen, my body excited beyond bearing by the physical signs of his, by him inside me, by every sensation that has consumed me this evening. I clutch him tighter, my legs like a vise around him, holding him to me as my seed sprays between us, the pungent scent of semen rising thickly around us.
Three more hard, rapid-fire thrusts inside me, and he's coming, his cry ringing in my ears, echoing inside my head even as he's filling me, his own seed thick and warm, mixing with the cool water that has trickled in.
Hot bodies, cold water, mixed together. Steam. The image makes me smile, even as both of us relax back into the cool water.
We lay there for several minutes, our heart rates slowing down, our breathing evening out, before either of us tries to move. Sandburg's slumped against me nearly boneless, though I can feel his lips moving over my skin very lightly, very gently.
"I can't believe we just did this here," floats up to me, and I smile, drawing my finger down the groove of his spine.
"It would look pretty bad if we got caught here, too."
He smiles at that; I can feel his lips curve. "Does that mean you want me to move?"
"It might be a good idea." I don't want to move, but I want to explain to Simon why one of his detective teams was arrested for public indecency even less. "We could always take this party indoors. Turn on the air-conditioner, get hot and bothered again."
"~Now~ who's oversexed?" He grumbles, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. I poke him in the butt once before he actually moves, then we're gathering up our clothing, discovering that his tee-shirt must have floated out to sea on the tide that's rapidly coming in.
"I never said I wasn't," I offer, pulling my shorts on. "I only said you ~are~."
"Huh." Blue eyes appraise me, sweeping over my body, making the not-quite-banked arousal stir again. "You wanna get hot again, after we just cooled off?"
"Why not?"
He looks me over again, then a grin curves his face, a hungry smile that makes me wonder what I'm getting myself into. "Sure...might be good to steam the place up a little."
~~Finis~~
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