This is the first story I've uploaded to fanfiction, and I would love to know what you think. I decided to start with pure, unabashed smut, rather than hem and haw over smut and never know whether I could actually write it. So, here is Sand Kisses, a purely smutty modern AU of Tom and Sybil.

He was waiting for her, standing waist-deep in the gentle waves rolling endlessly against the shore, the blood-red glow of the setting sun setting the droplets splattered across his naked chest ablaze. A flutter rolled through her stomach at the sight of the long muscles carved beneath the skin of his broad shoulders, smooth back, narrow hips, and her heart picked up its pace, slamming against her ribcage. Balancing first on one foot, then the other, she kicked off her sandals and ripped the shirt and shorts from her body, breathless, hands trembling. A stitch tugged at her side and her palms smarted—she brushed tiny flecks of gravel from them and caught the tangy scent of blood. She'd fallen in her headlong dash down the road, grazing her knees and skinning her palms in her urgency to see him as soon as possible, but she didn't care. She barely felt the pain; it seemed to belong to someone else, to another girl still sitting at the dinner table with her family, not the one on this beach, bathed in the sun's dying glow, trembling and sweating with desire. She had never done anything even remotely like this before, never met anyone who made her want so fiercely, who plucked her easily out of her skin and deposited her in someone else's shell, but she had never been so thrilled to realize that she was wrong—and how wrong! She'd always scoffed at desire, thinking it idiotic to assume that lust couldn't be controlled by a being perfectly capable of rational thought, but nevermore; she was afire for a man whom she'd known for perhaps four hours at most.

She ran to him, sand flying beneath her bare feet, stripping as she raced and flinging her bra and knickers to the ground. He started to turn as she splashed into the water, but before he could, she reached him and leapt to fling her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, clambering up to sit comfortable on the base of his spine.

"Hello." she whispered in his ear, planting kisses along his neck. Goosebumps raced over her skin at the feel of him pressed flush against her, the tremors so strong that she dropped her head to his shoulder for a moment, shuddering. He let out a low groan, vibrations tingling her skin, and dropped his hands to her legs, caressing her bent knees.

"Hello yourself." he murmured. She was pleased to hear that he sounded both surprised and delighted by her enthusiastic greeting. "Eager, are we?"

"Oh yes." She let her tongue dart out to stroke the skin behind his ear. "I've been thinking about this all evening…"

His legs abruptly buckled, dropping them both into the salty spray, and she let out a full-throated laugh. Heat danced over her skin as he twisted, pulling her, still locked around him, to his front and wrapped both arms around her waist. Her laughter was abruptly swallowed as he fastened his mouth to hers, tracing her lips with his tongue and drinking down her moan of delight.

"So have I." he whispered, peppering her cheeks with kisses. "It's been…"

"I know." Her words were choked; his teeth had fastened around the pulse point just below her jaw and he was sucking deliberately slowly. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Oh, God…"

"You taste so good." he mumbled against her throat. One hand left her back and slid up into her hair, tugging gently. The long masses of curls tumbled from her shoulders to trail in the water, floating around them in a silky pool, baring the long column of her throat to his eager lips and tongue. "So good…like lilacs."

"It's—ooh—perfume—from—ah—France." She managed to gulp, senses entirely too focused on the work-calloused hand running in soft strokes from her shoulder blades down her back. "Ooh…"

"France, hmm?" He chuckled, letting the tip of his tongue memorize the curve of her right ear and drawing a squeak from her lips. "How very posh…and meeting me here…how distinctly unaristocratic of you."

"Meeting me here." She retorted, though her voice held nothing but a velvety caress, twisting her neck to press a feather-light kiss to his jaw. "How very unsocialistic of you…are you trying to corrupt me? Bring down the system from within?"

"Who's—ah—who's—oh God—corrupting who?" he demanded, voice ragged as she nipped at his cheekbones, reveling in the scrape of evening stubble against her own silky skin. "God, you're a little temptress, aren't you?"

Her pulse stuttered again, this time hesitation permeating the flood of desire. Slowly, she kissed up his nose and rested her forehead against his, twining her arms loosely around his neck. "Well, um…"

He sensed her changed mood so quickly that it would have been unsettling, if the caress of his warm fingers against her shoulder blades was not so gentle, so reverent. "What's bothering you?"

She blinked back into his blue eyes, still shining in the sun's hazy glow. "I…I haven't…" Oh, just get it over with! "I've never…had…anyone."

She watched her words sink in, watched comprehension flicker in his eyes. His jaw slackened with shock. "You mean you're…you're a virgin?"

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and began to worry it earnestly. "I just never…you're the first I've ever wanted…not just for—for sex, but in every way." She swallowed with a mouth that suddenly felt alarmingly dry. "Every way imaginable."

He still didn't speak, just stared. Behind his back, her hands twisted together nervously. "Is—is that off-putting?"

His lips crashed into her, tugging her lip from her grasp and biting down on it instead. His tongue glided smoothly into her mouth, twining with hers, stroking the roof of her mouth, all hot and wet and smooth until she was moaning uncontrollably, stars winking behind her eyelids. When he pulled away and dropped a kiss on her upper lip, her chest was heaving.

"There is nothing off-putting about you." he rasped. "Just—holy Christ."

She managed to giggle. "So you're not put off then?"

Every noise previously made paled in comparison to the truly obscene noise that flew from her mouth as his two hands clenched around her hips and his own trust upwards, pressing his very obvious arousal against the place where no-one, no-one, had ever touched her before. "Does that answer your question?" he gasped, jaw clenching with the effort of holding himself back. She reached to brush his jaw with fluttering fingers, throat working to compose herself. She wanted to remember every moment of being in his arms, but her bones were melting, leaving her loose-limbed and hot in his embrace.

"God…" she gulped. "Don't—don't stop. I-I know the basics—I am a nurse, after all."

He grinned, and the soft light in his eyes added sparks to the fire searing in her belly. "Stand up for me." he whispered, his words low and gravelly and soft and so damn arousing that she actually whimpered aloud. "I want to see you."

Nodding, clutching his shoulders, she unwound her legs from around his waist and stood up straight. He remained almost-submerged, head bobbing on the surface, and stared up the long dark hair streaming down her shoulders, the round, full breasts rising and falling with each panting gasp of her chest, the smooth, flat stomach descending into the water. Her dark blue eyes were wide-blown with desire, her cheeks lips swollen scarlet from his kisses.

She shifted her weight, half-embarrassed, but unable to tear her eyes from his. He stared at her with a peculiar mix of full-blown arousal and something soft, something unspeakable beautiful and gentle. One hand rose, dripping with salt water, and positioned itself over her thudding heart, drawing a shudder from her shoulders at the sensation of his rough skin against the insides of her breasts.

"Beautiful." he breathed, still staring. "Love, you're—you're so beautiful. So perfect."

The smile that curved her cheeks was wide enough to hurt, but she didn't care. The way he gazed at her made her feel simultaneously delicate and powerful, a rush of heady feeling so strong that it threatened to topple her.

"Come on." she whispered, threading her hands in his hair, thumbs stroking his ears. His eyelids fluttered with pleasure. "Teach me."

With a smile simultaneously cheeky and tender, he wrapped an arm around her knees and rose to his full height, easily swinging her up in his arms. She dropped her head to nuzzle against his collarbone, stroking his hair, as he carried her from the water. She could barely wait ten steps, and swung her legs down from his grip into the soft cushions of smooth white sand, folding to her knees and tugging on his hand to draw him down with her.

"Tell me." He reached to stroke the waterfall of her hair. "Tell me if you want to stop."

She snorted. "Not bloody likely, mister." Gently pushing him onto his back, she swung one leg over his hips, laced her fingers with his, and stretched their joined hands above his head. "But do me one favor?"

"Anything." He tilted his jaw to up to hers, smiling as she pressed a kiss to his chin.
"Don't move for a few minutes."
"Ah—I don't—oh, good God—" His head lolled as she plunged her tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat. "—I don't know how well I'll be able to do that."

"Just for a few minutes?" she pleaded, batting her eyelashes. "Let me give myself an anatomy lesson."

He groaned again. "Well, when you put it like that, I'll do my best."

"Thank you." She smiled, and then sat back, hands gliding from his down the extent of his arms and sides. Tugging on her bottom lip again, she cocked her head on one side, studying him. To say that he was handsome was to underappreciate him; he was breathtaking. She had seen a dozen male models—one of her best friends was one—but he was in a class by himself. Blonde hair, dark with water, fell loosely across his forehead and ice-blue eyes sparkled up at her, their warmth drawing wetness from between her legs. He was tight and smooth everywhere, and she could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, making her gulp impatiently. She wanted to devour him.

But first, she wanted to drive him crazy—crazy enough to drive away any doubts of his about just how much she could handle, just how much she wanted him.

Rising up on her knees, she bent forwards to place her hands on either side of his waist and dropped her mouth to his navel, swirling her tongue around it. He groaned and, encouraged, she bit down, worrying the soft skin with her teeth and tracing the underlying muscle with the underside of her tongue. Careful not to let any part of her body touch him, she worked her way around the narrow circumference of his waist and hips, nipping, biting, licking, sucking with increasing force, urged on by the endless stream of gasps and groans rumbling in his chest.

"Ohhhhhhhh, fuck." he swore breathlessly, muscles clenching and twitching as she nipped at a rib under the thin layers of skin. "God, just—Christ, that feels am—gah—amazing."

"I'm a quick learner." she teased, slowly carving her name across his abs with the very tip of her tongue.

"God." he groaned, hands clenching in midair. "Love, I can't—I can't take much more of his."

Marveling in the back of her mind that she was able to bring him to the edge so quickly, she slid her hands up through the sand and, in one smooth movement, dropped her body down. Her breasts, stomach, and the dark curls between her thighs followed the hot path of her mouth in a mad race up his body until she wrapped her lips around his mouth in a deep kiss, breasts pressed tightly to his chest, legs sprawled on either side of his ribcage, coating his goose-pimpled flesh in sensation. His groan rumbled through their bodies and his arms locked around her instantly.

"You little minx." he growled before plunging his tongue to the back of her throat and kissing her so thoroughly that her limbs melted into a puddle of heat and wet. "You like playing games, do you?"

"Very much." she gasped. Nipping at her bottom lip, he flipped over and her back sank into the heaps of soft white sand. He hovered over her, his back and hair coated with a fine layer of sand, running his hands up and down her sides.

"Well, I like to play games too…"

"Oh, real—aaahhhhhh!" Her retort was cut off as both of his hands closed over her breasts. Her back arched like a bow, shoving herself further into her hands, driving her head back into the sand.

"Yes, I do." His lips found her heart and began to travel up the curve of her left breast towards the straining peak of her nipple. "Very much."

Her mouth opened soundlessly as his mouth closed over the nipple, sucking it between his teeth and rolling his tongue over its peak. His other hand worked over her right breast, pinching and plucking at the nipple until it was diamond-hard in his palm, and then he moved his mouth to that one, worshipping it thoroughly. Her hands clenched restlessly around the soft hairs on his head, back arching further and higher, and tiny keening noises spilled from her throat.

"Do you know what happens when you play games with me?" he whispered, releasing her nipple and tracing a winding road up her neck. Lips parted, she gasped for air, eyes widening as she felt his hand slide downwards along her wet stomach. "Do you?"

"N-No, I d-don't." she panted, trying to remember how to swallow as his index finger stroked the slick mat of hair between her thighs. "Oh, G-God—"

"Ask me." he whispered against her skin, thumb stroking the seam of her thigh.

"Guh…" She was rapidly losing track of the conversation. "Ask you—what? Gah…"

"Ask me what happens…" His knuckles were rubbing against her very gently and she was whining in frustration, hips twisting in search of friction. "…when you play games with me."

"Stop—ah—stop teasing." she begged, hips wriggling. His other hand pressed flat against a hipbone, pinning her down flat.

"Answer my question." His mouth was hot on her cheek. She had never had anyone hold so much control over her: it was both incredibly frustrating and intolerably erotic.

"Wha-what happens—oh." His hand had flipped, pressing down flat against her, holding her still and driving her mad. "—when I p-play games with you?"

"I play games with you." he whispered and then his fingers were moving and his teeth were bruising her neck and his thumb was rubbing against her clit even as one long finger sank into her and she was screaming, nails digging into his skin, hips swiveling and thrusting madly, begging him for more.

He didn't disappoint—a second finger joined the first and she went wild, head tossing wildly from side to side, hands grasping, gasping and panting and moaning and then flying, toppling helplessly over the edge and plummeting downwards.

When she finally lolled her head back to him, he was stroking her cheek, gazing down at her with the last gleam of ruby sunlight illuminating the softness of his eyes. "Are you alright, love?"

She couldn't answer at first. Instead, she pulled his head down and kissed him as thoroughly as she knew how. "Holy God." she panted. "I'm a far sight better than alright. Oh, do that again!"

He grinned, raining kisses across her cheeks. "With pleasure."

Carefully, he shifted his weight onto the inside of her thigh, using his hand to spread the other further, loosening her knee and wrapping it around his hips.

"You remember what I said earlier?" she asked, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulse picking up its pace again as he shifted onto his forearms. "Nothing between us."

He nodded. "As you wish."

"Exactly." she smiled, tossing her head back as she felt him brush against her. "Ooh…now, now, I'm ready."

With a fluid roll of his hips, he sheathed himself in her and both of them gasped, groaned, hissed as their bodies met. It stung, and she buried her head in his neck, but he tugged her face back, teeth gritted to hold back his own release, and kissed the tears from her cheeks. She couldn't speak, she was too full, too beautifully, perfectly, completely full, so full that her heart seemed to be overflowing, but she locked her legs around his waist to pull him closer, kissing his collarbone to tell him that she was alright. Slowly, hips rolling, he moved inside her, burying his face in her neck, and the pain began to recede, replaced by moans and sighs and whimpers and wriggling hips. And he snaked an arm around her hips and lifted them up to him, and thrust into her with a sharp snap of his hips, wringing a cry from her lips and they moved faster and faster, pulling each other closer, drawing each other in, kissing at any piece of skin their pleasure-dazed lips could find, and she tightened her grip as her body hurtled over the edge and he leapt after her, covering her lips and licking away her shrieks. For a moment, they both met God in each other's bodies and loose-limbed with pleasure, dazed and rasping for breath, she whispered something in his ear, too soft to hear it herself…

"Would you please pass the jam? Do I have to ask four times?"

Rudely jerked from her daydream, she started and handed the pot of jam to a scowling, morning-cranky sister, and wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee. Sitting at the breakfast table with her family, as though it was a perfectly normal morning, she hid her smile in the tang of dark liquid. How could she possibly focus on a debate of the weather when her body remembered waking in the middle of a moonlight night to the feeling of the rising tide tickling their limp bodies, how he had sat up and pulled her against his chest and softly washed the blood from between her legs with handfuls of surf, how soon she was flinging her head back against his chest and moaning again, how she had pulled him to her amidst the crash of the moonlight surf and afterwards they fell asleep again awash in foam? What interest had she in the potential activities of the day when she had awoken wrapped in sand with his arms around her, when they had tiptoed back to her house as the sun rose, clutching bundles of clothes and stealing kisses every few steps, when he had pulled her close and kissed her and given her a shoulder to stand on so she could climb back through her window? In what parallel universe could a girl who was hiding her lover's discarded shirt under her pajamas and whose skin was still coated in salt concentrate on the mundane topic of the new pool at the Greys'?

"The morning glories look marvelous, don't they?" her mother sighed rather dreamily, reaching past her to the pot on the windowsill and burying her face in the soft orange petals. "I must remember to compliment the new gardener for all his work—what is his name, again? Sybil?"

The letters dripped from her lips with a trickle of sand from the roots of her salt-coated hair. "Tom. His name is Tom."