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Kiara doesn’t do beach sex, as a rule. There’s not a lot of places for young teenagers to go, when they want to lose their virginity, not on a small island with cultural boundaries and strict parents, besides. So a lot of them lose it on the beach. She’s heard the horror stories, of course. And she’s a surfer -- she’s had sand in plenty of uncomfortable, out-of-reach places -- but she certainly does not want sand there .
However, JJ.
Things between them are still new, and exciting, and a little terrifying, if she’s being honest, but it’s a Saturday and school ends next week and everybody is at the boneyard, and she’s a little drunk and JJ keeps fucking looking at her so hard she feels like her skin is on fire.
It started with the dancing. She’s danced with JJ before, of course. They’ve been friends for years and he’s the only one with any semblance of rhythm. But since the dam finally broke a few weeks ago, well. Something is obviously different.
They were fighting, actually. Over something really dumb -- some self-deprecating joke he’d made, about being stupid and worthless and destined for nothing. She’d snapped, sick of the way he refused to see what she saw, refused to acknowledge his unfailing loyalty, his wide range of skills and his impossible ability to somehow always be learning more, his innate proclivity to know when something is wrong, even if he might not know what to do or say. She loved all of it, all of him , and before she knew it, she was telling him. She was only halfway done before he was kissing her.
They haven’t told their friends, yet. They would know, of course, if they were paying attention, but JJ and Kiara have been circling around each other for years, flirting and sniping and yes, dancing, too. If it falls apart, they don’t want to make them take sides, but -- Kiara doesn’t think it’s going to fall apart.
The dance circle starts around Jackson Anton’s over-sized subwoofer he hauled down to the sand, like it always does, and Kie is one of the first participants, like she always is. But JJ, instead of needing to be dragged, follows immediately, just in case some kook or touron gets any ideas about putting his hands on her. He’s always been protective, of course, and for the longest time, she thought it was a friendship thing -- that he got between her and overly-handsy guys out of some sort of misguided sense of responsibility, and that was part of it, but she sees now that there was a seed of jealousy there, too.
Jackson Anton always starts as the DJ. He’s a good guy, really. John B calls him ‘the therapist of the cut’ -- he’s always down to sit on his porch and smoke and help you talk through your problems -- but his music taste is just a little bit shit. He plays beach pop to start, the kind of shit tourons blast with their tops down, but all it takes is a beer and a pointed question to get Sarah on the aux instead. Her playlists are surprisingly amazing, and she spends a lot of time curating them, including all of their input and consulting spotify pre-mades, as well.
She’s watching the two of them, happily standing in John B’s arms, leaning up against the log he’s sitting on, holding Jackson Anton’s phone and editing his queue. A sly smile settles on her face, and after a moment, ‘Get What I Came For’ by the Phantoms starts playing -- a song that Kie knows Sarah pulled directly from one of her playlists. (Conveniently, the one titled ‘this is a sex playlist (why be coy about it)’). Kie turns, still swaying, to glare at Sarah a little bit, and JJ settles himself behind her, his hands landing on her hips. Sarah grins, full force, and Kie sticks out her tongue.
Kiara turns in JJ’s arms, her hands tangling in his hair, and his head falls back, his eyes sliding shut as her fingernails drag over his scalp. The sight sets heat growing in her stomach, as does the way his hand comes around her to brace against the small of her back, the other still on her hip. His eyes come back to meet hers, and they burn , dark and pulsing like the ocean just before a storm, power and fury contained in the skin of this otherworldly boy, made of galaxies and currents, moonlight and sand dunes, a phenomena in and of himself. A sigh escapes her, a rush of breath as she relaxes into his touch, rocking with the rhythm of his hips. She slides her hands down from his hair, one on the back of his neck and the other resting on his chest, his heart hammering beneath her touch.
This would be the giveaway, if their friends didn’t know before. They’ve danced, but not like this, not so close that breath passes from his lungs into hers, pressed together, lost in the heat and movement of each other. The chorus hits, and JJ rolls his hips with such a purpose Kiara’s breath hitches in her chest, the hand on his chest curling into a fist, bunching up his shirt. Her eyes drop to his mouth, and he’s smirking, the bastard, knowing exactly what he’s doing to her. They hadn’t talked about it really, beyond that they weren’t going to tell anyone, but JJ might as well be shouting it from the rooftops right now.
Kie really doesn’t mind.
In retribution, she rocks closer, changing the rhythm of the dance, their legs slotting together as she grinds down onto his thigh. The hand at her waist bunches in the hem of her top, the bite of his fingernails sending sparks shooting across her skin. His jaw sets, and his other hand travels up from her hip, smoothing over the curve of her waist and higher, his thumb stroking over the side of her breast before he traces her shoulder and slides his fingers up the side of her neck, light and tantalizing. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, his hand takes its time moving back down, having cleared a space for him to tuck his face against her neck, his lips finding the sweetest spot beneath her jaw.
Involuntarily, she lets out a small sound, and he palms her ass in response, his grip already wonderfully familiar. He picks his head up to look at her, and their bodies move without thought, stitched into the beat, lost in the infinite world they’ve created with each other. The strength of the ocean crashes and whirls in his eyes, barely restrained, desperate to be set free. Kie can’t breathe, her lungs skipping and short, captivated, in awe of the majesty she has made hers.
He leans in again, and her chin moves forward, expectant. But he doesn’t kiss her, not yet -- there’s still the shadow of a charade, the hanging threads of denial they’d hidden behind for so long, burning slowly in the sparks thrown from the fire and the passion that flickers and waits to burst to life between them. He’s asking her, still, waiting for her to tell him she wants this, tell everyone what she’s made of him, what he’s devoted to her, what she’s given back. In answer, she falls into him, their lips meeting in a liquid, searing heat. Kissing him is a high she’s never felt before, a feeling so big she has no name for it, no way to explain the breath it steals from her lungs, the way it makes chaos of her thoughts and perfect sense of her body. Her skin opens up for him, making fire of his touch, a flood of sparks in answer to the gentle press of his lips.
A cheer erupts from the crowd around them, Sarah’s voice the loudest, and their smiles break the kiss, Kiara’s head falling back on an explosion of a laugh. They haven’t been the only people waiting for this, not by a long shot. JJ picks her up with one arm around her waist, spinning her in celebration, her toes just skimming the sand. She throws her arms up, letting out a cheer of her own, a wild sound, made of youth and reckless joy, that echoes up to the stars themselves. In the blur of her vision, she can see Jackson Anton’s expression, cocky and relieved, the money passed from Pope to Sarah, the bewilderment on John B’s face. Howie is laughing, pumping his fist in the air, and Annabelle is slapping her boyfriend’s arm in excitement. The whole island saw them, is seeing them, was counting down the minutes to this perfect inevitability.
When JJ sets her down again, they sway in place, grounded in each other. His hand finds her face, and her eyes fall shut, their foreheads pressed together, her hands resting on his chest. He kisses her again, and she pulls him by the front of his shirt, leaning back and bringing him with her. The crowd laughs, and Sarah’s voice echoes from the hooting and yelling.
“Get a room!” she calls, and when Kiara pulls back, JJ’s eyes are sparkling with mischief, a dazzling mix of want and laughter and elation.
“Do you --” she starts, and he answers before she finishes.
“ Fuck yes,” he says.
Reluctantly, she separates from him -- not all the way, of course, she never wants to do that again -- their fingers still tangled in each other. Her face flushed, she does a mock little curtsy for the crowd. JJ’s eyes are locked on her, like he’s completely ignorant of the mob of cheering pogues, a blush absent and unlikely to appear. He has one thought in his mind, and it’s her. He steps forward, wrapping himself around her, and she giggles, her smile so big it feels like she’s shining, a beacon in the warm night. Her hand comes up to hold the side of his face as he scrapes his teeth over her ear, her laugh ending on a sharp inhale.
“Follow me,” he whispers, and she’s helpless but to chase after him.
He doesn’t lead her toward the trees, but past them and towards the parking lot, not stopping until he reaches the Twinkie, parked in the silent, peaceful dark. Before he opens the door, he swings her around, pressing her up against the side of the van. Using his hand to cushion her head, he crashes into her, stealing the air from her lungs with a bruising kiss. She responds eagerly, her hands fisting in his shirt, mouth falling open for the demands of his tongue.
She feels like a sunset made human, burning and transforming the sky, sharp light and dazzling colors with sandstorm skin and eyes made of the richest soil, the heart of the earth. JJ burns with her, made of the sunlight that she twists around herself, cosmically subject to the turning of her world, sinking into her, warming past her skin to her core, his light the spark of life that dances through her smile and echoes back toward him with joy and reverence.
Something solid and real is woven in the echoes of their desperation, rocky love and unstable youth kept safe by the foundation that stands under their feet, years of familiarity carved gently out of late nights and slow afternoons. They’ve seen it all, every contour and shadow, memorized the other so completely in so many different lights that they would recognize each other in the dark.
One of JJ’s arms braces against the van, his hand curled into a fist, energy humming under his skin, wound tight and wanting. She begs him for release, practically climbing him, their kisses messy and wild, crashing and ebbing like the best kind of surf, riding each wave just on the edge of control. Pushing into him, her hips stutter and fall, acting of their own accord, begging for his hands, his tongue, his cock, between her legs, in her mouth, taking up every sense, until her world is nothing but him.
“JJ, mmph --” she tries, her pleas silenced by his kiss. His tongue pushes into her mouth, and she takes it eagerly, whimpering as he drags it across the roof of her mouth and flicks the back of her teeth before closing his lips over hers, capturing the sound in a searing kiss. He pulls away again, kissing down her neck and across her shoulder, bared by her top. “Baby,” she sighs, and then, when his teeth sink into the base of her neck, bruising and incredibly hot, “ please. ”
There’s shock on his face when he pulls away, mouth wet and gleaming in the starlight, eyes dark and consuming, hungry in an eternal, primal way, begging for her soundlessly and yet still surprised to find her so willingly leaping in. His hesitation, though, is only momentary, and before she can blink, he’s digging the keys out of his pocket and unlocking the sliding door. Hauling it open, he goes to offer to help her in, but she’s pushing around him and climbing in before he can. Slightly dazed, still, he follows, crashing down next to her on the bench seat and sliding his hands around her thighs as she swings her leg over him to sit in his lap.
He’s half-hard already, the press of him between their clothes a wonderful, salacious promise. His head falls back as she leans over him, the soft, relieved noises he makes chasing after each other to the burning in her center. Smoothing his hands up her thighs, his fingers dip below the flowy, soft fabric of her shorts, finding the edges of the bikini she’s wearing underneath. She makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise when he closes his grip over her ass, his fingertips sinking into her flesh with purpose and power.
Rocking against him faster, desperate for friction, release, more , her hands drag down his chest and find the waistband of his shorts, her fingers fumbling with the fly. He makes a muffled noise against her mouth, sitting up straighter and leaning off the backrest, their faces tilting and moving together. He braces his hand on the seat to flip them, but Kiara pulls back, unable to get the button undone blind, looking down and cursing under her breath. Her breath is uneven and harried, her dark eyes endless and burning, glazed and drunk on his touch.
He stops her by lifting her chin, making her look in his eyes for a moment before he ducks toward her, laying teasing, soft kisses down the elegant line of her neck. Her hands flutter and still, sliding back up his chest and bracing over his biceps, eyes falling closed as he slowly teases his teeth over her ear, every nerve on fire where his lips touch her skin. Her hips keep moving, but slower and softer, which, of course, was his aim. The noise she makes is obscene, soft, breathy, and loud in the small interior. Her eyes snap open, surprised at herself, and JJ chuckles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.
Coming back to center, he kisses her slowly, soft, but simmering with a teasing tension. When he pulls away again, she hides her flushed face by busying her hands with his fly again, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, avoiding eye contact. He laughs again, a barely-there sound that thrills and tingles in her stomach, one hand still on the side of her neck, the other covering hers and settling her palms against the press of his cock through his pants. He inhales at the contact, but tilts her chin up, making her look at him.
Kie loses her breath, for just a moment. His eyes are dark, almost navy-blue in the moonlight filtering through the windows, half-lidded and glazed with the same want that carves out a ready hollow between her legs. She barely hears his whispered words, her eyes dropping from his to the soft pink outline of his lips, her hands covering his hot, hard cock, her heart rate racing as her mind staggers with every incredible, overwhelming feeling.
“You first,” he says, and she barely has time to look at him again before he’s flipping her.
She lands hard, unprepared. JJ’s hand cushions her head, but it snaps back against the window, and the sound it makes startles them both. Her hand flies up to cover the one that cracked against the glass, the other wrapping around his forearm. They lock eyes, hunger chased out by momentary worry, each afraid they’ve hurt the other. In the still, silent aftermath, relieved laughter spills from both of them.
“Are you okay?” she asks as he drops to his knees on the carpeted floor of the van, laughing between kisses.
He holds her face in his hands, kissing her cheekbones and her jawline, laughing with her. “I’m fine,” he reassures her, and then pulls back to look her in the eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks, genuine worry at the center, hazy desire filtering back in around the edges. Her hands have fallen on his sides, spread over lean muscle, his skin burning through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. She nods, biting her lip, and tension floods back in as Kie flexes her palms against his ribs. The way he leans in to kiss her suggests a gravitational pull, an immeasurable, impossible thing holding them together, demanding their return to each other at the suggestion of separation.
Her hands slide up to tangle in his hair as his arms close around her, lips moving in tandem, in harmony, heat and pace slowly building again. Her back arches as she begs to be closer, and his hands slide under the loose hem of her cutoff t-shirt, cool fingers meeting the warm curve of her waist, a brush of bare skin that makes her breath stutter as she inhales against his lips. Without pausing, he curls his fingers in the soft, weather-beaten fabric, pulling it up, watching her face for any hesitation or reticence. She’s silent, but holds her arms over her head, letting him pull the shirt up and off.
He’s seen her in a bikini countless times, and recently, in less, but his eyes devour her anyway, her skin glowing in the moonlight that filters through the hazy windows. It’s like the sight of her, the quiet whisper of their skin meeting and kissing, parting and meeting again -- none of it will ever be enough, not truly. Having her for a lifetime, belonging to her in exchange, it may be the only thing that can ever fill the hollow in his chest her smile has carved, can ever warm him in the way he feels so comforted and held in her effervescent sunlight. Perhaps decades will be long enough, but he doubts that. Looking at her now, he knows, he will love her past the death of the stars themselves.
She reaches for him, dazed, knowing only the hunger for his skin, and together, they lift his shirt off, as well. Awe hangs between them as hands trace over soft curves and sharp lines alike, reverent and kind, young and naive in the best of ways. Sparks burn in both bodies under the light, forgiving touch. JJ’s fingers stroke gently across her collarbones, and they both watch as he trails over the edge of her bikini, goosebumps following in his wake. Her breath hitches, soft in stuttering anticipation, and he keeps his eyes on hers while he reaches around, tugging on the string tying the scrap of fabric over her body.
The knot doesn’t unravel, and Kiara laughs at the expression of concern that drifts across his face.
“It’s a double-knot, moron,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling into a kiss.
JJ growls in mock frustration, bringing his other hand around her to tug at the knot, and after a few unsuccessful tries, she reaches back herself, picking it apart with her fingernails and slowly pulling it open as he buries his face in her neck, wrapping himself so fully around her she can’t help but laugh. Nothing’s funny -- it’s just an expression of joy, and the disbelief that they have found it so easily in each other.
When her top finally hangs loose, he wastes no time in pulling it over her head, leaving her hair swinging wildly around them, brushing deliciously over bare skin. Surging into a kiss, his work-roughened hands palm her tits, and she tightens her grip in his hair, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip in response. She hisses in a sharp breath and he smiles, breaking the kiss to duck his head and devote his attention to her breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth while rolling and tweaking the other between his fingers. She can’t let go of him, her hands simply everywhere, sighing and moaning as his teeth leave marks across her chest and up her neck.
Bare chests touch and press and part, and Kiara clutches at his shoulders, desperate to have him closer, to never let him pull away. It’s a perfect heat that builds and burns inside her, in him, filling the small space with a want that practically pulses in the air. It’s comfortable, this desire, unafraid of itself and the noises it makes, unashamed of insecurities and flaws in a way neither of them have felt before. Her fingernails rake down his back. His hands brace against her thighs and push them apart. Her head falls back. He moans into her neck.
It’s all second by second, kiss by kiss, not time passing, just the movement of hands and the hungry cry of skin against skin. It’s not until JJ pauses at her waistband that Kie realizes he’s been slowly making his way down her body, leaving trails of sparks and moments of beautiful heat in his wake. He stops, looking up at her, and she can almost see whitecaps crashing in his eyes, power and passion cresting in the deep, infinite blue. Nodding, she pushes golden waves back from his forehead, her hands making a mess of what’s already a disaster.
The bastard licks his lips , and he doesn’t even notice the breath of laughter that she lets out, he’s so focused on his goal. She helps him by picking up her hips, lifting her legs as he leans back to slide her shorts and bikini bottoms off. Tossing them into the driver’s seat, he leans in to kiss her again, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her in, the other wrapping around her thigh, just below the bend of her hip, his thumb pressed so close to where she wants him, and yet, so far away.
Her hands hold his face, dragging him towards her, leaning back as far as she can and demanding that he follows. His grip tightens in response and she whines , the anticipation pulsing between her legs, desperate for contact, for him to finally reach down and let her world become nothing but his touch.
He doesn’t start with his fingers.
Before the rest of the sound is even out of her mouth, he has his tongue on her clit, sudden and so incredibly welcome. He’s done his teasing, enough and then past that, and she’s wet and ready for him, gasping at the slick heat of his mouth. Her stomach flexes and shudders, her senses almost overwhelmed by the way he drags wetness up from her entrance to her clit, circling around it before swiping his tongue over it again and again, dragging her up to the edge until she cries out, and then slowing and waiting for her trembling limbs to settle before diving in again.
He seems to know when the deep, low pull starts in her stomach, and adds his hands, slipping his fingers inside her easily. The heated metal of his rings press against her inner walls and she almost sobs with the incredible, brand new sensation. Smiling against her cunt, he massages her g-spot, flicking his tongue across her clit simultaneously. The noise that she makes is uncharacteristically shrill, and her back arches as she combs her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face and then pulling, hard .
JJ moans , both from the sound she makes and her fist in his hair, and the muffled noise drives her higher. He’s still teasing her, the bastard, changing positions too fast to let the rhythm of anything take her crashing over the edge. Canting her hips up, she tries to pull his face farther forward, tell him to hurry up , but he resists, holding his head back and looking up at her, his hands never stopping.
“What?” he teases, and then drags his tongue up her slit, flicking the underside of her clit once at the top. The sight is obscene , and the move, while small, sends a shudder of pleasure through her whole body. She can’t say anything, panting as she is, and instead lets out a high, breathy unh! when she sees the glint in his eyes. Lowering his face again, he keeps eye contact, pushing his fingers deeper and curling them, fucking her deep and slow. Her hips rock with the movement, and his gaze is greedy and self-indulgent as it tracks up her body, roving across her bouncing tits and down over her flexing stomach and quivering legs. His perfect lips close around her clit and he sucks gently. His hands still haven’t stopped moving.
When he picks his face up again, his mouth and his chin shine in the low light, soaked with her arousal. “What do you want, Kiara?” he asks, and his voice is raw and wasted , the only indicator that this is affecting him on any level close to what he’s doing to her. He waits, still fucking her with his fingers, and she matches the rhythm perfectly, her hips rolling as she does her best to take in enough air to answer him.
“I -- J --” she manages, and he smiles, his eyes flashing, as her breath stutters again. “ Fuck ,” she sighs, and then; “Baby, please!!” And that name in her mouth, the way it’s always waited for him, is enough for his eyes to go dark, his intention settling in stone.
“Go on, Kie,” he murmurs, leaning down again. His next words are low and cut to the core of her, vibrating through her hips and making her walls clench around his hand. “Cum for me.”
Her moan is cut short as he covers his teeth with his lips and gently sucks her clit in between them. Before she can feel the full consequence of the tantalizing grip, he flicks his tongue back and forth over the small bundle of nerves, keeping it in place as she writhes and sobs beneath him, heat and pleasure crashing through her body, turning her entire world into JJ’s mouth on her cunt, his fingers deep and steady inside her, hot and strong and all-consuming. It’s so good, so perfect, how he alternates pressure with the rise and fall of her orgasm, stretching it out as long as he can without overstimulating her.
She doesn’t know how much experience he has, whether this is based on lessons learned or if he’s just paying attention, following her gasps and moans, all the little cues he’s following that she can’t even track. Whichever it is, she’s grateful for it, and it’s not until the third or fourth (she hasn’t been able to count) round of pulsing waves that he finally relents, easing off and calming her through the aftershocks with soft licks and quiet strokes of his tongue. As she shakes and settles, he stands on his knees, leaning over her as she slumps down into the seat. Bracing his hands on either side of her hips, he kisses her, his shoulders flexing as he leans in. Her hands come up to hold his face, whimpering into his mouth as she pulls him towards her. When he pulls back, she can’t follow, her body liquid and refusing to cooperate.
“Hi,” he says, bumping his nose against hers, a grin already growing on his stupid, beautiful face. “You okay?” he asks, knowing the answer full well. Her hands slide down to his chest, and she weekly lifts one and lets it drop, like she might have been trying to whack him but didn’t have the energy for it.
“Hate you,” she breathes, even as he laughs against her skin, pressing kisses across her cheek and down her neck.
“No you don’t,” he says, as he reaches the curve of her shoulder before retracing his steps and then scraping his teeth over her ear.
“No I --” the reluctant don’t is swallowed under JJ’s burning kiss, and she responds as best she can, still breathless and deliciously sated. Her hands lay on his shoulders, loose and relaxed, and JJ manages to get his fingers clean on his discarded t-shirt before his hands find her waist, smoothing around toward her back until his arms come between her and the seat. She arches toward him, letting him hug her fully, his arms strong and sure, his kiss gentle and slow, not insisting on anything else.
He takes his time, holding on to her, reveling in the moment, letting this be enough. For so long, he’s loved her from afar, accepting completely the impossibility of moments like these. Sometimes, he forgets that this, her body against him, his lips on hers… he forgets it isn’t a dream.
Kiara, however, hasn’t, and it doesn’t take long before she’s hungry for him again, tantalized so effectively by his lips that it’s mere minutes before she’s reaching down and slipping the button of his shorts and tugging at the zipper.
“Mmmph,” he mumbles against her lips. It’s a reluctant noise, a yes please keep going with a little bit of relief and thanks but also there’s that you don’t have to that he always wants to say.
“Shut up,” she hisses, only pulling away long enough to say the words before kissing him again, hard and hot. He’s always so convinced she doesn’t care, convinced that she will take her pleasure and be satisfied. JJ cannot comprehend her wanting, cannot understand the way she hungers for him, insatiable and constant. He believes so thoroughly that his worth is tied to service, that he can never be loved or worshipped, simply because he is.
Kie gets his shorts shoved to the floor and then her hands on his cock, palming at the erection straining at the fabric. JJ moans, caving to her touch, falling against her and chasing her mouth. Smiling into the kiss, she uses one hand to stroke him, the other sliding into his hair, tangling in the golden mess and pulling him toward her. He resists a little, trying to pull back a few times to gets his shorts all the way off, but she keeps pulling him in for kiss after kiss, and he sighs into her mouth with moans and soft laughter, loving the way that she giggles and toys with him.
Finally, she slips her hand beneath the waistband of his underwear and he curses, biting down hard at the base of her neck, which makes her whine and arch towards him.
“Switch with me,” Kie says breathlessly, but she hasn’t stopped stroking his cock, and he’s entirely absorbed by her touch and his mission of leaving breathless, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of available sand-dune skin. She lets him kiss her, leaning drunkenly to the side, laughing when he almost tips them off balance.
“What?” he laughs, grinning like a wildcat, coming back to center with her, and she’s laughing too. “What?”
The air is hot and humid, the windows fogged. The lights in the van have stayed on, and it’s a miracle, really, what with the twinkie’s battery and the fact the bulbs haven’t been replaced in probably fifteen years. The light is soft, incandescent, glinting gold and glowing on the strands of JJ’s hair. She loves the way her fingers look in it, sandbars buried just beneath the surface of water in the sun. Because he is the sun, burning and angry, life-giving and light. There’s something she wants to say, buoyed to the surface by booze and the warmth of him. Something she’s said before, jokingly and with sincerity on boat rides and between drags off a joint. But not since things have changed, not since he kissed her a few weeks ago. She can’t say it now, not yet, not until she’s sure that it will bear the weight it carries.
“Switch with me!” she laughs, and shoves him off. He leans back, tilting his head, biting his lip, dragging his eyes down her naked body as he pulls away. His hands stroke down her sides, then over her thighs, squeezing slightly. She bites her lip on a muffled sound, and he smirks, his eyes half-closed and wanting. It’s a little silly, the sight of him kneeling there with his shorts shoved down, his erection prominent, but she only smiles, pulling her legs back, playing coy as he finishes pulling off his shorts, and then sits next to her on the bench.
“Hi,” he says, and neither his gaze nor his hands are shy as she slips off the bench and kneels in front of him, feeling wanton and goddess-like as he touches her.
“Hi,” she replies, matching his smile with her own. She wraps her arms around his neck, making a small noise of surprise as he bands his arms around her waist and pulls her in tight.
“You’re gorgeous, Kie,” he says, just a murmur in between kisses, and it melts her, bringing her completely under his spell.
“J…” she says, but he stops her with another kiss, brushing her hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then her lips again.
“You are,” he sighs, and then he’s kissing her like he intends to make her believe it. Oh how she does, under his roaming hands and searing touch, made holy by his passion. Neither of them were virgins by any means when they started, but in each other’s bodies they still discovered something new, something marvelous and extraordinary to young, sweet hearts and minds, something ancient and storied and written into stone and yet novel and unique, all the same. Kissing JJ makes her body liquid heat, molten rock, a natural phenomena with skin.
She almost gets distracted. Almost .
Biting his bottom lip, Kie takes the upper hand, sliding her hand back into his boxers, stroking him lightly, teasing. As he leans towards her, she leans ever-so-slightly back, letting her nipples brush against his chest before dancing away. He groans and grabs at her, but she ducks, knocking his hands as she presses light kisses down the center of his neck and between his pecs.
Then, pushing down the waistband of his boxers, she pauses, straightening, and looks him in the eye. He’s a classic beauty, adonis, greek sculpture, every cliche ever written by admirers of men, and even though Kiara is young and still unknowing, a part of her, the part that knows her body the way women always have, feels the weight of it, the strength of her innate desire. Her bottom lip sits tucked partially between her teeth, and those deep, endless eyes sparkle with her question.
“You don’t --” JJ starts, but Kie’s laugh cuts him short.
“Don’t tell me that,” she tells him, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “You know I want to.” His hand comes up to cradle her face, and he leans forward, giving her one, impossibly soft kiss.
“You do?” he asks, and there's a tone behind it, cocky and smug, but his eyes betray him, as they so often do. Biting her lip again, she nods, and he smiles, kissing her one last time before leaning away.
Kie, suddenly shy, tugs on his boxers again, and he lifts his hips to help her get them off. He laughs as she makes a show of tossing them aside, and the sight of him, large and tense, ready and waiting, sends a fresh flood of heat between her legs. JJ, watching her stare, lifts a hand to her chin, directing her gaze towards his.
“Hi,” he says, and smiles.
“Hi,” she says back, letting herself be gently guided upward towards his lips. Their chests press together, and Kie rests her hand on his cock, smiling at the shudder that rolls through him at the touch of so much bare skin. “You ready?” she asks.
“Are you?” he teases back, and she rolls her eyes, sinking between his legs. His chuckle is cut off as she licks him from base to tip, bold and challenging, as she is in all things. Her name comes out on a strangled yelp and it only makes her grin all the more, taking as much of him into her mouth as she can. Her hair hangs around her face, getting in her mouth, and she pulls back, pausing to check both wrists.
“Damnit,” she says, and JJ’s eyes fly open. Facing her arms forward, Kie displays the frustrating lack of scrunchies or hair bands, and JJ just laughs, one hand reaching for hers, the other sliding into her curls. He guides her back between his legs, and she touches him, nearly on fire as he scrapes her hair into one of his hands, holding it gently away.
“Better?” he asks, and she dips down again, sucking on the head of his cock as she comes up, chin messy, smiling.
“Thank you,” she says, and loves the way his hand squeezes in her hair, just a little, pulling at the roots.
She takes her time with him, partially in retribution for how he teased her, making an unapologetic mess of his cock and her chin, loving the way he makes small noises, the hiss of his breath when she swallows him down as best she can. Working the base with her hand, Kie looks up at him as she bobs her head over his dick, making small sounds of contentment when JJ squeezes his eyes shut, or lets his head drop against the back of the bench.
“Feel good?” she gasps, coming off him with an obscene, wet pop! He laughs a little, breathless, and then moans as her hand continues to pump him, twisting over the top.
“ Fuck , yes,” he sighs, using his other hand to reach for her face, wiping her chin with his thumb.
“Good,” she says, and she’s burning for him now, intense and unbridled. JJ recognizes the shift in her eyes, the carnal desire and determination, and he helps her clamber up from the floor, pure adoration on his face as she straddles him, hovering. “Condom?” she asks.
“Side pocket,” he gasps, and Kie leans away for a moment, fishing his shorts off the floor. They brush against each other as she moves, and The delicate touch fills her with ready satisfaction.
“I hate these things,” she says, wincing as she rips open the velcro flap of his cargo short pocket.
“I look good in them though,” JJ bites back, surging forward as she pulls out the little blue wrapper. She laughs, and then moans as he buries his face against her breasts, biting one gently and then taking her other nipple into his mouth.
“Yeah, you think so,” Kie says, and it’s meant to be biting, sarcastic, sniping back the way they do, but she can feel the hard, hot press of his arousal against her and it comes out breathy and soft, instead. Her hands are wet and she can’t get the wrapper open.
“Yeah, you do too,” he taunts, grinning as he plucks the condom from her, ripping the packet open with his teeth. She pouts a little, her smile still sparking in her eyes, as JJ rolls it on. When it’s done, Kie lifts up on her knees, her forearms resting on his shoulders, her fingers in his hair. Holding her hips gently, JJ wets his lips, gazing up at her, his breath coming fast. Kie tilts her head, concern obvious on her face. JJ’s eyelids flutter, and he chews for a moment on his lip, before his eyes, clear and summer-sky blue, lock onto hers.
“Kie, I --” he starts, but she kisses him before he can say the rest of it.
“Don’t,” she says, pushing her thumb against his lips, one hand on his face. He frowns, his forehead wrinkling, and she lets her tone soften, giving him a quick kiss before she says, “Not yet, okay?” She leans her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut, breathing him in, hoping he can understand all the things running through her head that she doesn’t have the words for yet. He kisses her, fast and featherlight, and she nods, then kisses him again and whispers. “Not yet.”
JJ leans away for a moment, and then waits for her to pull back, pushing her hair back from her face, tugging her lip out from between her teeth with a gentle touch. He nods, smiles, and then tilts his head, waits until she smiles, too. He knows that she knows, and he knows that she will, will love him, will someday be able to say it. Then, his hand slips down to the small of her back, opposite the other, pulling her hips toward him. She’s struck suddenly, jerked by something in her stomach, with how much he truly cares for her. He’s waited a long time, this she knows, and it must be killing him, those three words she won’t let him say.
It was simple, once she knew how he felt, to understand that it was him, has been him, will always be him, but it’s still new and young and unexplored. Kie doesn’t know how wide and far she’d run for him, how deep she’d swim, but JJ looks at her with the ocean in his eyes, and he’s had so many years to learn the borders and breadth of it.
Gently, he guides her down, keeping her gaze, taking a breath with her as she sinks onto him.
“ Fuck .” The word is breathy, high-pitched, and JJ nods a little in agreement as Kiara stills in his lap, one hand on his shoulder, the other braced on his chest. She tilts forward, pressing their foreheads together, and takes a deep inhale, letting it out on a laugh. “Fuck,” she says again.
JJ kisses her, hurried and fast, over the line of her shoulder, her neck, her hair, the side of her face. Kie giggles a little, and feels JJ’s hands tighten on her hips. He bites at her shoulder, and the pain is thrilling and momentary and she gasps, short and soft, and it makes him tense underneath her.
“Kie?” he says, and the word is tense, practically a growl into her neck.
“Mm-hmm?” she hums, and her breathing is tense, too, and getting faster. Her hands flex against his skin.
“Move.” He barely gives her a chance to respond before he’s sliding his hand into her hair and gripping, pulling her in for a searing, hungry kiss. Kie lets her instincts take over, rising to meet him and then following the rhythm her body sets for her. She starts slowly, rocking back and forth, and they kiss with clashing teeth and open mouths, hot and unashamed in their primal desire.
JJ’s hands are omnipresent, devouring, massaging her breasts and stroking her waist, tilting her head to the side as he sucks bruises up her neck. Kie can’t stop kissing him, pulling away only to breathe, to gasp, to tilt her head back and revel in the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her.
“ God ,” she sighs, standing on her knees and sliding back down, quickly a few times and then slowly, resting her hands on JJ’s shoulders as she lifts herself up, nearly all the way off of him, and then sinking again, rocking her hips forward. It feels so good , so natural, a strong, burning pull beginning in the base of her stomach, at her core. Letting out a muffled moan, she falls forward, her hand bracing on the back of the bench, the other pressed hard against his chest. JJ’s renewed grip is reassuring, and he helps guide her as her rhythm stutters, her hips bucking in anticipation
“Jesus, Kie.” JJ’s voice is raspy and wrecked, and he lets his forehead rest against her collarbones, clutching at her back. She chuckles into his hair, kissing the top of his head as she rides him. She brushes her finger over his jaw, tilting his chin up to look at her, kissing him slowly, even as she tortures him with her hips. When she pulls away, he looks starstruck, dazed, the entire night sky wheeling in his eyes.
“Hi,” she giggles, brushing her nose against his, leaving another light kiss on his lips. She doesn’t stop moving.
“...Hi,” JJ sighs, each breath a shaking effort as he struggles to hold himself together. Kie leans down, scraping her teeth over his ear, moaning in response to the sound he makes. She rocks against him, rising and falling, breathing and whining in his ear. The sound of breathy moans and skin against skin fills the hot, humid van, and JJ shifts his weight, the head of his cock hitting just the right spot. She gasps and falls forward, clutching JJ’s head, pressing her forehead to his, relying on him to guide her.
They kiss, messy and uncoordinated, and then Kie is gasping, her moans climbing higher and louder, and JJ is kissing every square inch of skin he can. Just before she tips over the edge, he nudges her with his chin and her eyes fly open to meet his gaze as she comes apart around his cock.
She stops breathing, and the world narrows until it’s only JJ’s eyes, burning into hers, and the point at which their bodies join, craven to each other, messy and perfect and young. She hits the perfect peaks, shuddering again and again, and JJ keeps her steady through the whole of it, guiding her hips up and down until she can breathe again. Her legs are tired and shaky but Kie, flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes her glisten as if dew-dropped, keeps up until he cries out, tensing and pulling her against him.
Her weight settles back into his lap and for a moment, they just breathe, sated, exhausted. Free.
“Holy fucking shit,” Kie sighs, draped over him, whole body lax.
“Yeah,” JJ agrees, and she loves the chuckle in his voice, that ever-present humor that cracks even the stoniest of frowns. It makes her laugh, for some reason, and then he’s laughing, too, disbelieving and perfect. Their bodies are both a little sticky as she pulls away, and he gives her kisses in quick succession until she’s giggling and smiling too much. Then he covers her face in kisses, too, and pulls her into a hug, letting both of them settle, and just breathe. The heat slowly leaves her body, but the night is humid and they’ve fogged the windows so badly they’ve begun to drip, leaving clear streaks on the glass.
“J?” she says, but he’s lost to the world almost completely, and she only gets a ‘hm?’ in response. “My knees hurt,” she says, and then laughs again at his immediate re-entrance to the world, somehow twitchy and hyperactive again, already.
Together, the two of them get her off of him and back onto the bench, and she lets herself slide down to lay on her back as JJ moves to tie off the condom and shove it into a fast food bag in the trash pile that is the trunk. He finds her a (mostly) clean towel to wipe herself off, and, once he gets his boxers back on, shuffles around in his surf bag before coming up with the ultimate prize -- a thin hoodie and two bottles of water.
Kie pulls her shorts back on and tugs JJ’s hoodie over her head as he finds a joint in the center console. She drains about half of one of the water bottles (after lecturing him on single-use plastic for the umpteenth time), and then lays back down, feeling rather luxurious as JJ settles on the floor and puts the joint between his lips.
A few sparks later, she hears JJ take a deep inhale, and smoke fills the van as he holds it towards her. She takes it, propping herself up on her elbow to take a hit, and, as she exhales out the side of her mouth, she finally notices the dreamy way JJ is looking at her.
“What?” she asks, taking in the full picture of him -- his golden hair a rat’s nest, his color high and the neck of his shirt loose and rumpled. She wishes she could take a picture, but not just of him, of everything -- the satisfaction in her chest, the way her hair hangs down over her shoulder and a little in her eyes, the smell of weed, the taste of him still in her mouth. She wants to keep this moment forever. He doesn’t answer, and she laughs, shoving at him playfully. “What?”
He just shakes his head, taking the joint from her, pulling in another deep hit and letting it out. She stares at him a little while longer, challenging, but all he does is lean forward, letting a kiss ghost across her lips.
“JJ…” she warns, teasing. He takes another hit. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen a brighter smile on his face when he says;
“Not yet.”