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not beta'd

storyline - Malicious

prompt - swing

I hang up the phone.

My father raises his eyebrows, keys in hand. "So?"

"So…I'm just going to go for a little while, at least until the weather gets bad."

"It's already looking bad, Bells."

Sighing, I nod. "I know. But you know how they love to surf when storms are coming. At least let me guard for a couple of hours."

He doesn't like it, I can tell, but he squeezes my shoulder anyway. "Call if you need anything. And for God's sake, don't be a hero. If some idiot can't follow the rules or wants to stay in the water when it's high time to get out, just leave 'em."

"Okay, Dad." I give him a kiss and follow outside, where we split up: he to his cruiser and me to my truck.

There's an odd storm coming, rare to see outside of summer. This sunshine is deceiving; already the wind has started picking up and in a couple of hours, the sky will probably be dark. Jake's already at the beach, but we'll both be leaving early today.

To my relief, the parking lot is maybe a third full of what it would normally be on a Saturday. Like I'd predicted, the majority of people here are surfers and skim boarders who live for rougher waters.

My phone rings, and I fish it from my backpack as I hit the sand.

"Hello?" It's hard to hear with the wind.

"Hey, Bella?"

I can barely hear you. "Hey! I'm at the beach – half day today. Or less, depending on how bad it gets."

"Mind if I swing by?"

"No, come."

"Okay. Be there in fifteen."

"Oh. Okay – "

You've already hung up. I find my platform and climb up, shading my face as I look up and down the strip. Jake's at the far right, jumping down to talk to someone coming in from the water.

The sky is a silvery blue, ringed at the edges with a duller gray.

I want to be extra vigilant today, because the water is so much feistier than usual. It's fun watching people surf though, especially the ones who are really good at it. After a couple of minutes you show up, barefoot and in board shorts, with a hoodie half zipped.

"Hi." You smile; your teeth so white against your tanned face.

"Hi yourself. Watch's up? I thought you had sooo much homework?"

"Eh, I needed a break."

"Understandable."

"So…they really asked you to come out here, huh? Crazy."

"I know, but…" I bite my lip, glancing back out at the water. Some guy rides a tiny barrel all the way in until it practically spits him on to shore. "There're always gonna be daredevils."

"I should know, right?" you joke, a wry smile touching your mouth.

I shrug, jumping down on to the sand. "Hopefully we won't have a repeat of that."

We hang around chatting for a bit, and all the while I watch the sea, making sure no one needs my help. Eventually Jake wanders down the beach, his whistle in his hand. The sky is darker now, the shore deserted.

"I think we can pack it up, little Swan."

"Okay, Jacob."

He nods at you just once, posturing like he's the alpha dog around these parts. You nod back, and I'm not sure if you're posturing back or simply mocking him. Either way, I roll my eyes and pack my stuff, pulling a long cardigan on over my suit.

"Ready?" you ask.

"Yep. Bye, Jake."

"Bye, babe," he says, probably to piss you off.

Ignoring him, you sling your arm around my shoulder and we leave the beach, our feet sinking into the cooling, dry sand. You smell good, clean and nostalgic fresh like chlorine and your mother's laundry detergent. She only buys hippy dippy environmentally friendly stuff and while you scoff, I secretly love the sagey-lavender scent.

"Your dad home?" you ask, the perfect picture of innocence…

…but I'm on to you. "Nope."

"Can I come over?"

"Sure. I'm thinking of making manicotti."

"What're those things – "

"Scones."

"Yeah…" You twist a lock of my hair between your fingers. "My grandma used to make those. Rock scones."

"Huh. Hers are probably better."

"Yours are good," you assure me.

"I guess so. You had like, twenty."

"Twelve."

"Pig," I laugh, patting your sickeningly flat belly. I'm no slouch either – years of swimming has kept me toned – but you're pretty physically perfect. I'll never tell you that, either, though. You already know.

You lost the hoodie soon after coming in my front door, and now that we're in my bed you've helped me lose my cardigan, too. Your fingers play at the straps of my swim suit.

"Let's take this off," you suggest, cocking your head, deceptively sweet.

"It's a one piece. If we take the top of we'll have to take the whole thing off."

"And?"

We stare at each other for a beat. I purse my lips. "And… okay."

I never did get in to the water, but the wind blew hard enough to make my skin salty anyway. You've been licking it off my neck and shoulders. I probably smell like scones now.

You link your hands behind your head while you watch me undress. There isn't much to remove: a sweater, a swimsuit, the clip holding up my wind-strewn bun.

For some reason I'm not nervous or self conscious. Maybe it's because we've seen each other's bodies in next to nothing for years. Or it could be because we've fooled around hardcore before, even though that was a while back. Perhaps it's that your love for me is well established, and if anyone has the upper hand I suppose it's me, even though I refuse to play it that way.

In bed you trace fingers, then lips, along my breasts, paler, softer skin that never sees the sun.

"Is it wrong to want you?" you ask, hushed and heavy and close to my heart.

"No… what do you mean?"

"I don't want to stop this time," you admit, finally looking me in the eye.

"Then don't."

You retrieve a condom from your wallet and put it on my nightstand. Off come your shorts, landing in a heap besides my discarded clothing.

Your skin is so soft for a boy. The little hairs on your body are gold from the sun. I touch the muscles and bones that fascinate and arouse me, liking the way your weight pins me down.

"Have you thought about this, too?" I whisper, only half teasing.

"About a million times." Your tongue slides in to my mouth and my hands in to your hair.

Our kissing flows from barely sweet to desperately sloppy before you relent and grab the condom.

"It glows in the dark," you announce, your dick bobbing as you put the neon green rubber on.

"Did you wanna turn off the lights?"

"Hell no."

Outside the wind whips through the trees and the rain slaps steadily against the windows and roof. In here we are warm and melting together, kissing and kissing. You hold yourself up and I guide you inside and then we're moving, slow, uncoordinated in the best way.

You feel so much better than I would have ever imagined, and for a split second I envision a time when we can do this whenever we want, without the threat of parents. I hold you close and you catch on quick, grinding so you rub me the right way.

"So much better," you groan, shaking your head slowly, eyes shut against the goodness.

"Than what?"

"Than what I imagined."

I kiss your chin, your neck, your ear. "Me too."

bom chicka wow wow.

man, everyone's outdoor lovin' stories were awesome. seriously, lol. we should publish a coffee table book full of these little tales of rustic lust.

also - ahem - i grew up on an island in the caribbean. all of you who claimed that beach love is no fun (mainly b/c of sand getting everywhere) simply didn't do it right. just sayin. ;)

xoxoxo