Chapter Text
It's early when Bobby stumbles from the vacation rental down to the beach. He's not still drunk from the night before, but he's feeling a little loose and happy. It might actually just be the ocean in the early morning daylight.
He's got a mug of coffee in his hand and a battered cowboy novel he'd found on the shelf in the room he'd ended up in, and he walks toward the water. There isn't really anyone out yet, though he can see someone walking a dog in the distance. There's also someone surfing out on the water, and Bobby watches for a long time. They look like something out of a movie, gliding across the water like it's the easiest thing in the world.
Bobby sips his coffee and watches until the surfboard cuts the wrong way and the guy ends up in the water. He winces sympathetically and watches intently for the guy to pop up. He starts to set the book and coffee down on the towel that's laid out on the sand, but the guy pops up and paddles in until he gets to the shallows.
Bobby starts picking his stuff up and freezes when he catches sight of him coming out of the water. He's a little older, maybe in his thirties, dark hair, killer smile. He can't see what the color of his eyes are, but he hopes he gets to find out.
“Thought I might have to come out there and save you!” Bobby calls as the guy approaches.
The guy looks over his shoulder at the waves and back at Bobby with a laugh. “That? That was nothing. I appreciate it, though. And you kept my towel safe from thieves.”
Bobby looks down at the towel and beach bag with a smile. “I don't know, I was eyeing it myself. It's nice. Good stripes.”
The guy’s just a few feet away and sets the surfboard down, running his fingers through his hair to get it off his forehead. He's got blue eyes so pale they might as well be gray. “Thought the same thing when I bought it. You surf?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I'm from Minnesota. I've only seen the ocean once before this. But I am a firefighter, so I'm good at saving people.”
The guy gives him a once-over that could either be him trying to assess Bobby’s worthiness as a firefighter or he's being checked out. “That's a pretty noble job. They need a lot of help fighting fires on the Jersey shore or are you just visiting?”
Bobby's glad he'd been too lazy to button his shirt before leaving the rental, because there's a flirting edge to the smile that makes him want to show off a bit. He sips his coffee and flexes just a little, quirking an eyebrow when the surfer watches his arm. “Just visiting. We just finished the training academy, so we wanted a week off before we have to start running into burning buildings and getting cats out of trees.”
The man smiles, and it's like a hit to the gut. He's beautiful. “I think jumping into the ocean might be a bit harder than getting a cat from a tree.”
“You've never seen the trees in Minnesota,” Bobby jokes, tapping the book lightly against his thigh. “You from around here?”
“Pennsylvania. I'm just on vacation, needed a weekend away. I haven't surfed in a while, and I was missing it,” he says, glancing down at the surfboard with something like longing. “It's a hell of a thing, you know.”
“Looks like it,” Bobby agrees, hooking the handle of the mug on one of the fingers on his other hand. “I'm Bobby.”
“Phillip,” he says, shaking Bobby's hand. “I assume you're staying on the beach, or you walked a long way with that coffee.”
He nods back toward the sun-bleached pink house behind them. “Just right there. What about you? Haven't seen you when we've walked down here.”
“Oh, I rented a bungalow a little further up. And I just got in last night.” He fiddles with the zipper on his wetsuit, and Bobby wants to tug it down and taste the sea on his chest. “It's a nice place.”
“Mm,” Bobby hums, watching the zipper inch down. “I bet.”
It gets down to Phillip’s belly button before he looks up again, and he's being watched intently.
“You could come see it,” Phillip offers. “Unless you've got plans.”
Bobby holds up the mug and book. “You're looking at my plans. I can help you carry the board.”
Phillip bends to pick up the towel, rolling his wetsuit down and tying it around his waist. He's pretty built and has dark hair on his chest and belly. Bobby wants to feel him on top of him. Or behind him. Or under him. He's not picky.
“How about this?” Phillip says, holding up the bag.
They walk up the beach toward the nicer bungalows, and Bobby finds out Phillip is a teacher. He teaches English at a high school and has an adjunct position at a college teaching literature.
“Ever read this one?” Bobby asks, turning the book over to look at the title. “‘The Bandits of the Gulch’?”
“Never had the pleasure.”
“Maybe you can borrow it after I'm done,” Bobby offers.
“I'd like that,” Phillip says with grin.
Bobby bites his lip so he doesn't do something stupid like comment on Phillip’s smile or his exposed torso. He sips more coffee.
They make it to the bungalow, and Phillip takes the bag to dig a key out. He leans the surfboard against the wall outside and lets them in.
“Nice place,” Bobby says, barely looking at anything inside. It could have a vortex to Hell in the corner and he wouldn't notice. He sets the mug and book down on the console table by the front door and turns to find himself face-to-face with Phillip. “Yours?”
“Rental,” Phillip says, reaching up to hook a finger under the edge of Bobby's open shirt. His eyes dip to Bobby's lips. “I don't normally do this.”
“Pick up guys or—”
“Any of it,” he says, then adds, “Not for a long time.”
Bobby wonders if it has to do with why he hadn't been with a lot of guys, despite his proximity to a few cities and his interest. The shadow lurking around every corner scared the hell out of him.
“But you're—well, I'm sure you know what you look like,” Phillip says with a chuckle.
“Yeah, gotta say that I'm feeling a little inadequate here,” Bobby admits, raising a hand to Phillip’s pec and trailing it down to his abdomen. “You should kiss me.”
Phillip laughs. “You're, what, nineteen?”
“Twenty,” Bobby corrects.
“I'm almost old enough to be your father.”
Bobby brings his other arm up to wrap around Phillip’s neck, even though Bobby is a little taller. “Yeah, that's not the deterrent you might think it is.”
When Phillip kisses him, Bobby feels the desperate edge to it and arches against him, wanting to climb the other man. He sucks on his tongue and feels the way Phillip grabs his hips and starts walking them deeper into the bungalow.
“Shower,” Phillip says when Bobby needs to breathe. “Sand—”
“Uh-huh,” Bobby agrees mindlessly. Whatever gets them naked is fine by him.
He gets kissed all the way to the shower, and knocks his knee on a low table and bumps his hip on a sofa or chair. He doesn't give a shit, because the hottest guy he's ever seen is kissing him like he wants to eat him alive.
The shower is big, way nicer than the one in the rental that Bobby's being forced to share with Bruce and Erick, both of whom will not clean the drain when they're done. He strips off his clothes and steps under the spray while Phillip rolls the wetsuit down. When he joins Bobby, he crowds him up against the wall and kisses him again, rocking their bodies together.
“I don't have condoms,” Phillip admits. “Didn't really plan on this.”
“We can do other stuff,” Bobby says, grinding shamelessly against him. “This is working pretty well for me.”
Phillip laughs and hitches one of Bobby's legs up to his hip. “Yeah? You're really that easy?”
Bobby grins. “Well, we met about eight minutes ago. So—yeah. Pretty sure I am. Aren't you?”
“Not usually,” Phillip says, his eyes flicking down to Bobby's mouth. “But you…you're just something else, aren't you?”
Being wanted so badly by someone a little older is doing things to Bobby’s ego that he probably shouldn't allow, because he's cocky enough sometimes as it is. But he grinds against Phillip’s belly again, watching the way his dick shifts the dark hair around, and he wishes so much that he'd put a condom in the pocket of his trunks. He wants to ride him and watch the way Phillip looks at him while they both fall to pieces.
Phillip kisses his neck and fucks his cock against the seam of Bobby’s groin, his hand squeezing Bobby’s ass so hard he hopes there's a handprint after to remember him by. He wants anything to remember him by. He tips his head back and hopes Phillip takes the hint and sucks a mark into his skin.
“Y-you can,” he prompts when Phillip doesn't take the hint.
“Can what?” Phillip murmurs, licking his collarbone.
“Mark me.”
The fingers on his ass dig in, and there's a bite of nails into the skin. Teeth latch onto his shoulder, and Bobby whines as the dual points of pain ramp up how good he's feeling. He tries to get a hand between them to jerk himself off, but Phillip beats him to it.
“Yeah, yeah, please,” Bobby pants.
He spills fast, and Phillip’s mouth detaches with a wet noise. He chuckles and brushes his nose over Bobby’s jaw.
“Oh, to be young again,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to his skin.
“Don't make fun of me,” Bobby complains as he tries to catch his breath. “You walked out of the ocean like some kind of movie star.”
Phillip laughs, and Bobby kisses him before turning them around. He, once again, mourns the lack of protection, because he wants to suck Phillip's dick so badly his mouth is watering. Instead, he settles for jerking him off and mouthing at his neck and jaw and chest.
“No marks,” Phillip warns softly, burying his fingers in Bobby’s hair and when Bobby’s mouth finds his nipple.
He hums an acknowledgment and keeps sucking gently, careful to not go too hard. He has a pretty strong suspicion that Phillip is married or at least in a long-term relationship of some kind. He's not really in control of that, and they've already been hooking up for several minutes. The horse is out of the barn there, it feels a little silly to close the door now.
He's not very experienced with guys, but he knows enough of what he's doing to get Phillip to choke out his name and cum over his palm. Bobby kisses him after, pulling them back under the water.
They actually wash off this time, working quickly because Phillip swears the water heater in the bungalow gives out without warning. Sure enough, Bobby is rinsing soap off when he gets hit with a blast of cold water. He yelps and grabs Phillip, and they careen into the wall together. Phillip has an arm around him and the other braced on the wall, effectively saving Bobby from a concussion.
“Thanks,” Bobby says, still a little dazed.
“You sure you're a firefighter?” Phillip teases.
“Probationary,” Bobby reminds him.
Phillip laughs, and Bobby can't help but kiss him, because he's even more beautiful when he's laughing. Phillip gropes for the knob to turn off the shower and hustles Bobby out and into a towel.
“How long are you here for?” Bobby asks, fingers playing with the towel at Phillip’s waist.
“Just the weekend,” Phillip says, gently grabbing his hands. “I really shouldn't have done this.”
Bobby shrugs. “I figured. You're married?”
Phillip steps back, his face going blank. “You—”
“Wouldn't tell anyone, it's none of my business,” Bobby says, waving away whatever bullshit blackmail accusation or obvious lie he was about to face. “Lots of guys in Minneapolis are married. And girls. I can keep my mouth shut. Who would I tell, anyway? I'm not exactly advertising the fact that I'm into men. That's effectively suicide where I'm from.”
“Well, thank you,” Phillip says stiffly, and Bobby wants back the laughing, grinning, loose Phillip from before he opened his stupid mouth.
“I should go,” he says, saving him the trouble of kicking Bobby out. “I'm here until Monday. Maybe I'll see you around. I'll pretend we've never met, though, don't worry.”
He scoops up his clothes from the floor and starts dressing on his way to the front door. He ignores Phillip saying his name and walks up the beach to the rental house.
–
That night, Bobby stumbles home from a bar and finds a clean coffee mug on top of a cowboy novel sitting on the little table on the front porch. He picks them up and a piece of paper flutters out, and he has to chase it in the wind picking up from the ocean.
I'm sorry for being so rude.
I hope you understand.
-P
He considers crumpling it up, but he tucks it between the pages again and shoulders the front door open.
–
In the morning, he goes out again with his coffee and walks further down the beach. In the rising sun, he can see Phillip surfing. He goes to the striped towel and sits down to watch.
He wonders if Phillip is having some kind of midlife crisis or if he hates his wife or if he's actually gay. Bobby knows he isn't, but people don't always believe him when he says he likes both. They assume he's lying about being gay. Women have assumed he's trying to infect them, like he isn't equally worried about it from them.
He sips his coffee and smiles when Phillip gets back to shore without capsizing.
“Good morning,” Bobby says as Phillip approaches.
Phillip drops to his knees in the sand and kisses him. It's quick, it could be mistaken for nothing from a distance, but it happens.
“I didn't come here for that,” Bobby says softly as Phillip sits back on his heels.
“Yeah, but you're beautiful in the sunlight,” Phillip confesses, his fingers brushing Bobby's jaw. “And I feel terrible and can't stop thinking about you.”
Bobby swallows, settling his coffee cup firmly into the sand next to him. “I was coming here to apologize to you.”
“For what? You couldn't have known,” Phillip says with a sad smile. “You're sweet, you know that? Funny. Cute. Brave. I'm a bastard. I'm lying about a conference so I can go surfing without having to deal with my wife, because sometimes I feel like she only wanted me so someone respectable could give her a family. And instead of missing her, I spent last night wishing you were next to me. So you have nothing to apologize for.”
He should, in theory, push back. He should tell Phillip that he's sorry that his life seems to be complicated. He should thank him for a fun moment and go back to the house and make breakfast.
Instead, he shifts forward, hooks a hand around the back of his neck, and pulls him into a kiss.
No one he's staying with will be up for hours, they'd all been asleep when he'd gotten back the day before, and he doesn't know anyone else there. He doesn't really give a shit about who's going to see him kissing this guy that he really wants to kiss. He doesn't want to have to worry about it. Phillip, apparently, doesn't either, because he's burying a damp hand in Bobby's hair, his fingers grasping the strands tight, and he's kissing back with equal fervor.
Bobby lays back on the towel, pulling Phillip with him, and he laughs against his mouth when he immediately feels sand against his neck.
“Sex on the beach is one of those things that only sounds good in a movie, I think,” Bobby says softly when Phillip lifts his face away.
“Probably,” Phillip agrees, his voice equally soft.
Bobby sits up, kissing him as he goes. “Don't suppose you had condoms magically appear in that place overnight?”
“No,” Phillip says, skimming his hand up Bobby's thigh, his fingers slipping under the hem of his shorts. “Unfortunately, I spent last night drinking bourbon and feeling like an asshole.”
“There's a shop up the road,” Bobby points out. “I bought sunscreen there, I'm pretty sure they'll have those, too.”
Phillip nudges his jaw with his nose until Bobby tips his head back. “Alright,” he says against his skin before kissing it.
“Let me use your shower,” Bobby says, closing his eyes and running his fingers through Phillip’s hair, “and you go to the store.”
“Leave you alone with my things?” Phillip says, but his tone is teasing.
“I'll try to keep my nose out of your jockey shorts,” Bobby says, though he actually kind of likes the idea now that he's said it.
They trip their way up to the bungalow. Phillip reveals the two beside it are still empty, so Bobby doesn't feel bad about stopping to kiss him every few feet.
“Alright,” Phillip says, grabbing his wallet and keys once they've stumbled through the front door. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Bobby's already stripping out of his clothes. “Hurry.”
Phillip grabs his hip and kisses Bobby's shoulder on his way to the door. When he's gone, Bobby scrambles into the shower to clean himself as best he can. He gets out and wraps a towel around his waist, going out to the bedroom just as the front door opens.
Phillip appears in the doorway with a small paper bag in his hand. He tosses it on the bed and wraps Bobby up in an embrace that feels like it belongs on the cover of a romance novel: Bobby with his hands curled in the neoprene of his half unzipped wetsuit, Phillip with his hands spread over Bobby's back as he kisses him.
“C'mon,” Bobby murmurs, backing them toward the bed and getting on when the backs of his knees hit the edge. He reaches out for the bag and dumps the contents on the bed. When he sees a Payday bar and a pack of Juicy Fruit with the condoms and KY, he laughs.
“She looked like my aunt,” Phillip says, shaking with laughter above him. “I panicked and grabbed what I could to keep her from making eye contact with me.”
Bobby grabs the KY, opens the box, and unscrews the cap before shoving it at Phillip, both of them still trying to get the giggles out. He looks over and grabs the gum and candy, tossing them away.
“Hey!” Phillip protests, laughing. “I paid fifty cents for those.”
He wraps a leg around his hip and flips them over, grinding against the neoprene and shuddering at the slide of the material against his cock. “I'll pay you back if I damaged your candy. Are you gonna fuck me or not?”
Phillip quirks an eyebrow at him. “Well, not if I'm wearing this.”
Bobby, it turns out, has no idea how to take a wetsuit off. It's like a goddamn finger trap every time he tries to pull something, and Phillip ends up batting his hands away with a laugh and rolling everything down and then off. Bobby sticks his face in the crease of his groin and inhales the smell of salt and musk, sucking gently—not enough to leave a mark, just enough to taste.
“Get up here,” Phillip says, tugging on his hair gently.
He does as he's told and settles on Phillip again, and slick fingers dip between his cheeks.
“Haven't done this in a long time,” Phillip admits. “Not with a man.”
“I'll tell you if you do anything wrong, but you're doing great so far,” Bobby says, rocking back onto his finger until it breaches him. He tightens his hold on Phillip’s shoulders with a groan.
Phillip, though out of practice, isn't shy with Bobby. He asks him if he's ready for another finger while he jerks him off with his other hand, and when Bobby nods, Phillip sits up and kisses his jaw.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Bobby moans when it sends a tingle through his body. Phillip presses in another finger and smiles when Bobby reaches back to hold his wrist steady so he can rock on them. “Well, look at you.”
Bobby kisses him and starts pushing his own finger in beside Phillip’s, because he wants it. He's wanted this ever since he saw him step onto the beach the day before.
“Okay, okay, easy,” Phillip soothes, letting go of Bobby's cock to get the box of condoms. He holds it up for Bobby to help, and Bobby wedges a finger under the flap while Phillip holds the box tight. When he gets a condom out, he holds that, too, while Bobby tears it open. “You're so helpful, thank you. Scoot back a bit so I can get this on, okay?”
He does, watching as Phillip rolls it on and squeezes more lube onto himself. When he's done, Bobby lifts himself onto his knees, holds onto the base of Phillip’s cock, and sinks down slowly. He feels the way Phillip gasps against his neck and wipes his hand on the bedspread so he can bury it in Phillip’s hair.
Bobby hasn't gotten to do this much, because it's rarely been worth the risk. But he loves it, has loved it every time he's gotten to do it. He loves the feeling of something fucking into him, of feeling a man under or above or behind him, of hearing how much they both want it. He rides Phillip hard, already feeling wild and on the edge.
“God, nothing feels better than this,” Phillip pants, holding his waist tight and fucking up into him. “Wish I would've done this yesterday, wouldn't have let you leave this bed.”
“Think you could've kept up?” Bobby teases, kissing his temple and cheek before throwing his head back and crying out when Phillip thrusts just right.
“You think you can?” Phillip counters, holding Bobby so tightly that he can barely breathe as he fucks into him.
His head tips forward, and he tries to plead for him to keep going, but all he can do is make helpless noises and try to meet his thrusts. He knows he can't leave marks, so he ends up grasping his own forearm behind Phillip’s neck and digging his nails in. A hand slaps his ass, and Bobby whines.
“Get on your knees,” Phillip says, mouthing at his jaw. “Can you do that for me?”
“Uh-huh.” He lifts off of Phillip’s cock with a wince and kisses him before getting onto his elbows and knees. A hand between his shoulder blades presses down until his chest is touching the mattress, and Bobby looks back to watch Phillip’s face as he guides himself back in.
“Jesus,” Phillip breathes, drawing his hips back and fucking into him so hard it almost pushes Bobby up the bed.
Bobby's never been fucked like someone's hungry for him, never been fucked so hard he feels his thoughts blanking out. He grips the blanket and tries to fuck himself back on Phillip’s cock, sobbing when Phillip grips his hips to still him.
“Don't you want this to last?” Phillip teases, bending over Bobby and nuzzling behind his ear. “You can be patient, right?”
The thing is, he doesn't know if he can. He's so close to the edge, and Phillip is angling himself down until Bobby can feel himself leaking all over his thigh. “I don—I ca—”
“Oh, baby, you're alright,” Phillip soothes, wrapping an arm around his waist and fucking into him slow and deep. “You can take it.”
Bobby's hands end up in his own hair, twisting the strands between his fingers, and he feels like he's going to black out. He's trying so hard to keep it together, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he's drooling and tears are leaking out of his eyes.
He bites his own bicep and feels like he's going to die if he doesn't get off soon. “Please, please, can I cum?”
“Patience,” Phillip reminds him.
Bobby should've stayed in bed. He never should've walked down the beach, never should've followed Phillip to the bungalow, because Phillip is the fucking devil. A hand wraps around the underside of his jaw and the top of his throat, and Bobby's head is twisted to the side so Phillip can press their lips together before mouthing at his cheek and jaw as he fucks him.
“That’s it,” Phillip murmurs, kissing Bobby's cheek and pressing his tongue to a tear track. “Good boy.”
That sparks something dangerous low in Bobby's belly. He can't give in to it, but he wants to so badly. He hangs on for dear life to Phillip’s forearm and the blanket as he fucks him deep. He suddenly wants to beg him to leave his wife, leave everything, just move with Bobby to wherever they can do this every single day over and over again.
He thinks that Phillip might be close, but then he starts grinding into Bobby in tight little circles. He tries to hold back the pathetic little whine that slips out, but he doesn't think he's in complete control of his body anymore.
Phillip’s hand moves, and Bobby's about to mourn the loss of that possessive hand when Phillip’s arm presses gently across his neck instead. He's effectively got Bobby in a weak headlock and has his face pressed against his neck and the side of his head as he tortures Bobby with his cock.
He feels drunk, like he's tossed back glass after glass, his brain going loose and hazy as Phillip fucks him and murmurs soft praise to him. Bobby just makes whatever noises he can in response and starts to drool a little. It would be embarrassing if it didn't get Phillip to press two fingers in his mouth and fuck him harder when Bobby starts to suck.
“You wanna cum, sweetheart?” Phillip pants, and Bobby could sob when he nods. “Go ahead.”
Bobby gets a hand around himself and strokes himself without much finesse, just wanting to get over that edge. When Phillip fucks him harder, his arm reflexively tightens around Bobby's throat just enough to create some pressure, and Bobby cums with a sob, still sucking on Phillip’s fingers.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” Phillip gasps, driving his hips in hard. “In or out?”
He shivers as Phillip removes his fingers so he can answer. “Out.”
Then he loses the comforting weight of Phillip on his back as he pulls out and rips the condom off, and Bobby looks over his shoulder to watch him stroke himself hard and fast until he's cumming on Bobby's lower back. When he's done, he seems to be mesmerized by the sight for a second before he gets himself up and disappears into the next room. He comes back with a damp dish towel and carefully cleans Bobby off before flipping him on his back and getting his belly, too.
Bobby pulls him into a kiss after, and Phillip sinks into it, laying next to Bobby and pulling him close until Bobby's half on top of him. They end up cuddled together for a long time until the layer of dried sweat makes them both agree that they need a shower. Phillip digs through a duffel bag for clothes and pulls Bobby into the shower.
The shower is just a shower, nothing more than some occasional kisses. Bobby's not under the impression that he can actually convince Phillip to run away with him or even meet up again. He kisses him because he's a good kisser, not because there's any particular romantic inclinations beyond wanting to maybe have sex again a little later.
They get out of the shower, and Bobby leaves him to shave while he goes and grabs his own clothes.
The duffel bag is still on the bed, and Bobby sees one of those little viewfinder keychains attached to the zipper. He crouches to look in it and sees a picture of a baby in a white onesie with a pink headband.
Well. Now Bobby feels like a piece of shit.
It's likely not a niece or child of a friend. That's the kind of thing a dad carries around. So Phillip is married and has a young kid.
He puts the bag on top of the dresser and sits to finish drying off, wondering if he should leave. The guilt gnaws at him the longer he sits there, even though he knows it's not his fault if some guy decides to use a vacation to step out on his family.
Bobby gets dressed just as Phillip emerges from the bathroom freshly shaved and with a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt on. He looks a little bit like he's at a loss for what to do next, too. Before he does something polite like ask Bobby to go to lunch or something, Bobby stands.
“I gotta meet my friends,” he lies.
“Of course,” Phillip agrees easily, like he believes Bobby. Or he's just grateful for the out. “I'm going to do some things in town, but I'll be here tonight if you want to come by before I leave in the morning.”
The problem is that Bobby does feel guilty, but Phillip also just gave him the fuck of his life. Getting a repeat performance would probably be a good way to spend an evening.
“Okay,” he says softly just before Phillip closes the distance and kisses him.
–
Bobby feels like an idiot for actually showing up, but Phillip answers the door in a pair of tiny blue shorts and a mostly unbuttoned white shirt and he doesn't feel so stupid anymore. He kisses Phillip all the way inside the house and to the couch, because that's about as far as they get before Bobby's trying to push him onto a flat surface.
He strips while Phillip ducks into the bedroom for the condoms and lube, and he's slowly jerking himself off when Phillip gets back.
When Phillip gets on his knees and nuzzles into his groin, Bobby spreads his legs while Phillip mouths at his balls and the base of his cock. Two lubricated fingers open him up, and Bobby lets his head fall back on the couch as he just gives into the feeling. He buries his fingers in Phillip’s thick, dark hair and pulls him up until he's being kissed.
Phillip fucks him on the couch with one of Bobby's legs draped over the arm and the other over the back, spreading himself open for the cock of a man he desperately wishes he'd met under less fucked up circumstances. Because Phillip kisses him and talks to him like he gives a fuck, and Bobby's realized it's rare to find that anywhere these days. Everyone's too selfish or scared to be vulnerable, but Phillip slows down and presses his face into Bobby's neck and admits he doesn't want this to end.
“Me either,” Bobby whispers, even though it has to for so many reasons.
When Phillip cums, he sounds wounded. When Bobby cums, he sounds like he's sobbing. They lay together on the couch for a long time, and then when Phillip gets up, so does Bobby.
“You could stay,” Phillip offers as Bobby gets dressed.
“What if your wife calls?” Bobby says, and Phillip flinches like Bobby slapped him. “I shouldn't have come back. You—you have a family.”
Phillip's lips press together, and he bends to pick up his shorts, stepping into them. “Yeah. And it's clearly going so well.”
Bobby feels a flash of anger on behalf of the baby in the picture. God knows his own father probably said the same kind of shit. “Maybe stick around and try instead of going surfing and fucking some guy.”
“I've never done anything like this before,” Phillip insists, and Bobby believes him. “I came here to get away from a wife who hates the sight of me, to gather my thoughts a little, not for—I didn't expect you.”
“I'm just a guy from Minnesota,” Bobby points out. “And I'm gonna go back to being that, and you're gonna go home and be a good dad. That kid deserves that.”
“Kids,” Phillip corrects softly. “I have a son now, too.”
Bobby scoffs at that. “Fuck. Okay. I'm—I'll go.”
He leaves without a backwards glance. Once he gets to the house, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from his medicine cabinet and hides away in his room for the night.
–
It's the morning, and Bobby's head is killing him. He makes coffee, he goes down to the beach, and he watches the waves.
“I should've been honest with you,” Phillip says, sitting next to him on the sand.
“You don't know me,” Bobby points out. “So maybe just be honest with yourself.”
“Fair enough,” Phillip says, and Bobby looks over to see that he's smiling. “I went to the right school, got the right job, married the right woman, had the two kids, and if I was going to be completely honest with myself, I think I'd only want some of that. I think I'd rather live out here, teach my kids to surf, and do stupid stuff like mess around with some firefighter from Minnesota.”
“Get a lot of those out here?” Bobby jokes, and Phillip chuckles. “I think if I met you somewhere else, in some other time, maybe that would be a good way to live. It sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” Phillip agrees, finally looking at Bobby. “It does, doesn't it?”
He leans over and kisses Bobby on the corner of his mouth, and Bobby turns his head to kiss him properly. He sets his mug in the sand and promptly knocks it over when he twists his body to kiss him deeper.
“I need to go,” Phillip says softly when they pull apart. “Maybe I'll see you around.”
“Robert Nash,” he says as Phillip stands. “If you're ever in St. Paul.”
“Phillip Buckley,” he replies with a small smile. “If you're ever in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”
Fingertips brush across his shoulders, and then Bobby's alone with the waves.
–