What ever happened to the girlfriends, did they vanish?
The Beach House
- Thread starter IDreamaboutMen
- Start date
They will come back from the beach promptly! Then we'll see how the boys handle that.
(Been busy exploring the Hard as Ice story lately, but I'm returning to the Beach House very soon.)
Hi guys! Here is the sixth part of the Beach House. The seventh part follows en suite, because they were too long together to fit in here on LPSG. As always - if you want to, you can read the story without interruption on my Substack. I appreciate your comments and thoughts!
I reached down to pull up my briefs, dragging them over my sweaty thighs, but I hesitated, letting the cool air dry the moisture clinging to my balls and dick for just a little longer.
Mats did the same. By the time I reached the fridge for more ice, my briefs still clinging awkwardly to my thighs, he had moved up behind me, resting an arm on my shoulder, just like before.
– Putting that woof into the drinks earlier seems like a very good idea now.
– Well, you know Erik is old Greek for foresight, don’t you?
– Now is it really? And here I was thinking that Erik and foreskin was the thing to remember.
I turned to him, offering him a somewhat chilled Cosmo. He accepted it with a wide grin.
– Well, judging by all those decorated plates and urns, foreskin does seem to be a huge deal for them. So… who knows? Maybe you’re on to something.
– Oh, I’m always on to something. Especially when it involves you and foreskin.
– Is that so? Well, just don’t leave out the Greeks. They might take it very personally. After all, stuff like that was their thing.
– Promise! By the way, is it OK to kiss the bartender?
– That is, funnily enough, yet another great Greek thing —throwing glass, kissing bartenders. Here, there, everywhere.
– Oh, those Greeks, he smiled, moving in closer, his lips almost brushing mine. Kissing bartenders and democracy… is there no end to what they came up with?
Our lips met again. Tenderly, carefully. Hands stroking each other’s bodies, moving gently through the mist of urgency and the almost burning energy from just minutes ago.
– I could get used to this, Mats murmured, rubbing his chin lightly against mine.
– Maybe you could. And maybe you should.
– Yeah… maybe I should.
He smiled softly and kissed me again. Then, as if shifting gears completely, he said, – Let’s balance these amazingly perfect Cosmos to the veranda, shall we? I believe there’s a hammock waiting for us out there.
– With or without briefs?
He stopped to think, briefly glancing down at the small crumpled cloth of yellow fabric on the floor.
– D’you think I should use more sunscreen?
I laughed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.
– Yeah, you really should…
He turned towards the window, trying to catch his reflection in the glass.
– Really? Aren’t tan lines the shit these days?
– Not the same thing, Mats. You’ll get your tan lines if you stay in the sun for more than thirty seconds. Burned body? That’s where the sunscreen comes in. I mean, Mats, really…
I shook my head in disbelief, passing him with my Cosmo in one hand, pulling up my swim briefs with the other.
– You just enjoy watching yourself, with or without a tan line. Another thing you have in common with the old Greeks.
Mats mumbled something about the Greeks and how they really had their shit together.
The terrace stretched as wide as the house, broad enough to hold several sitting areas, all sheltered by an elegantly ornamented cast-iron structure.
Right outside the kitchen windows, the hammock waited alongside a few armchairs, their thick cushions resting against intricate, floral metal frames.
I sank into the hammock, setting my glass on the small table in front of it. The sound of the waves rolled in from the shore, steady, unhurried. Out here, the salty air felt stronger, as if it had seeped into the walls of the house itself.
Mats followed soon after, placing his drink next to mine before nudging me to the side so he could lie down, resting his head against my chest, with one arm leaning on my thighs.
He guided my arm so it rested across his chest, and I began stroking it, my fingers trailing softly through the patch of hair in the center.
The view was something else—the broad horizon of the Atlantic stretching endlessly beyond the dunes, and then, just to my right, Mats. His thick hair, his lean body. His bulge resting between those strong thighs, offering a glimpse of his pubes and the faint trail of hair leading up to his chest, rising and falling under my touch.
I leaned forward to pick up my glass, taking a short sip before Mats took it from my hand and drank as well.
– Have you ever thought about me like this? Us kissing and all?
I stayed silent for a moment, weighing my answer.
– Why do you ask?
– Just curious… I mean… it’s kinda a big thing. This. Us.
– Yeah, I guess… or… is it? Maybe that depends.
– Depends? Why? On what?
– Well… isn’t it just… Maybe… Maybe I don’t know what it is? Or it just is whatever we decide it is? Whatever we want it to be…
Mats rolled the glass between his fingertips before letting it rest on his thigh, close to that bulge. My mind drifted again.
– Yeah, maybe… He said. Not really much of an answer to my question, though.
I let out a short laugh.
– Sorry, yeah, I know—not much of an answer. It’s a Greek thing too.
Mats rolled his eyes at my reply.
– So, have you ever thought about me like this?
His fingers traced the rim of the glass, slow, deliberate.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Of course, I had. But I wasn’t about to give that away.
– Well, you know I’ve always said I think you’re handsome. Hot, even. So… in a way, maybe I have thought about you like that.
– Is that a lousy answer or what? C’mooon!
He set the glass down on the table and turned his upper body toward me.
– So, you’ve never thought about us kissing? About me kissing you? About us making out?
– Fuck, Mats, nooo—or… you know, maybe. But… not the way you seem to think of it. I’m sure of that.
Mats tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was challenged to solve. Then he leaned in and kissed my nipple.
– Not very eager to give anything away, are you?
I reached for the glass again, took a sip, then sighed.
– Why are you asking me this?
– Is it that strange? After what we just had?
He took the glass from my hand, bringing it to his lips.
– No, probably not. I just don’t know what to say. Maybe I don’t have an answer right this second.
– Because saying you’ve been fantasizing about me is too much to handle? Because admitting that us is… an actual thing in your life is too much to say to the other part of that us?
I took a deep breath and turned toward him. Those beautiful eyes, just centimeters away. His breath, warm, teasing, moving over my skin like ripples in water.
– Yeah, maybe so. Maybe that other part has been distant for so long that this part needs to understand what this really means before being able to give a proper answer.
He watched me again, thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.
– You don’t trust me… yeah, that’s it. You don’t trust me.
– Whaaaat—no? Why?... Well…well, if I don’t, would that be so strange?
– Yes, it would.
He turned, settling back against my chest again, placing my hand where it had been, letting me play with the hair on his chest.
– Or… maybe not. Maybe…
I felt his breath beneath my fingertips, slow and steady as I traced my hand up and down his chest, following that faint trail of hair along his stomach. He seemed to like it.
– I’m not perfect, you know, he murmured, placing his hand over mine.
– Oh, I know, I said, trying to lighten the mood.
– No, you don’t.
His voice was quiet, but firm.
– You always look at me like I am. Like I’m on this pedestal. Always adored.
– Do I?
– Yeah, you do. And it’s not that I mind. Or maybe… But it does make me think… that you have thought about me. About us. In many ways. I’ve always thought you did.
– If so… how come you never said a word about it?
– Well, like I said before… I was afraid. I’m not brave like you. I’m a coward.
– Coward?
– Stop, Erik. You know what I mean.
His hand guided mine over his chest, absentmindedly, like it was habit.
– Yeah, I’ve always thought you loved me. In some way. That you wanted me. And I’m sure that’s been true, in… you know... whatever state of love or attraction that was. I always kind of knew that you loved me.
Suddenly, I was pulled back to that moment in the kitchen—when he played with himself in front of me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing with me as well.
I turned my eyes back to the dunes, studying them in even greater detail.
– That really scared me, he continued. I mean, that love… how could I match that?
He exhaled, voice quieter now.
– I just… kind of entered your world, and you… like, in seconds—yeah, that’s right, in seconds—I knew that you loved me. And I was so scared of that.
He hesitated, then let out a dry laugh.
– Of a guy falling for me. And of everyone knowing I had a friend who was in love with me. That I’d be… smitten with that. Somehow.
His skin was so warm under my touch.
– And here I am, after this afternoon with you… and yeah… I can see why you wouldn’t trust me. Yeah, I see that. But it hasn’t been easy, you know. Balancing everything… or at least trying to. Hoping to. Being afraid… you know, cowardly afraid. Ashamed.
– Ashamed?
I pulled back slightly, my chest tightening.
– Mats… OK, I probably can see what you mean… but what are you after? What? Yes—you’ve been ashamed of me. I know that. That’s been brutally clear. For me. For anyone who actually gave a damn.
I exhaled sharply, my fingers tensing against his skin.
– Really, I don’t know what you’re after right now. And honestly? I’m a bit stressed out about it. All of… this… it makes me uncomfortable.
His grip tightened around my hand—not aggressively, just firm.
– I never said you were the one to be ashamed, Erik.
– No, you never said it. But I was. OK? You think I didn’t notice that? And what makes it even worse is that I fucking accepted it.
I let out a sharp breath, my chest tightening.
– Ohhhh… I’ve been so fucking stupid in all of this. Such a weak, fucking idiot. I should have… I should have…
I clenched my jaw, my voice breaking slightly.
–What should you?
– I should have, you know... Just left.
His grip tightened even more and my eyes got foggy.
– I just want to point out that I didn’t mean to make you cry, Erik.
The bastard knows me too well.
– Well, and yet… here we are. You telling me you were ashamed of me. And me reacting to that. What a beautifulsituation.
– No, really, Erik. I’m not playing you. I’m trying to be honest.
He lay still against my chest, his hand gripping mine. I felt the tension in his body, the way he was holding back.
– I just… why can’t we talk about it?
– Well, think for a second, would you? This isn’t some story where you’re the pathetic loser, hopelessly in love with someone. This isn’t about you being the friend to be ashamed of, just for thinking that someone might love him back…
– So you have been in love with me, then? He smiled.
– For fuck’s sake… really?
I tried to sit up, to pull away, but Mats shifted his weight, pressing his full upper body against mine, his grip firm around my hand. I pushed back, resisting—briefly—before the fight drained out of me.
I sighed, giving up, sinking back into the cushions.
Let it go, Erik. Just… let it go.
Mats didn’t say anything. I could feel his breath, steady, present. The sea stretched out before us, as magnificent as ever. The dunes were still just dunes, their shadows lengthening as the sun dipped. A slight, barely noticeable chill crept into the air.
The glasses sat waiting for us, still shimmering with translucent red, the last fragments of ice floating on the surface. But I didn’t feel like drinking. I didn’t feel like anything, really.
And I definitely didn’t feel like sitting here, pressed into the hammock with Mats anymore.
I didn’t want to feel the coarse tickle of his chest hair under my fingertips. The bulge between his thighs? Just cold meat under a yellow blanket. And those legs—those thighs—pale, hairy, just a pair of limbs. Nothing more.
Nothing at all.
Then there was a scream from the beach. A bright cry for heeelp! Immediate help. and NOW.
I recognized the voice.
I reached down to pull up my briefs, dragging them over my sweaty thighs, but I hesitated, letting the cool air dry the moisture clinging to my balls and dick for just a little longer.
Mats did the same. By the time I reached the fridge for more ice, my briefs still clinging awkwardly to my thighs, he had moved up behind me, resting an arm on my shoulder, just like before.
– Putting that woof into the drinks earlier seems like a very good idea now.
– Well, you know Erik is old Greek for foresight, don’t you?
– Now is it really? And here I was thinking that Erik and foreskin was the thing to remember.
I turned to him, offering him a somewhat chilled Cosmo. He accepted it with a wide grin.
– Well, judging by all those decorated plates and urns, foreskin does seem to be a huge deal for them. So… who knows? Maybe you’re on to something.
– Oh, I’m always on to something. Especially when it involves you and foreskin.
– Is that so? Well, just don’t leave out the Greeks. They might take it very personally. After all, stuff like that was their thing.
– Promise! By the way, is it OK to kiss the bartender?
– That is, funnily enough, yet another great Greek thing —throwing glass, kissing bartenders. Here, there, everywhere.
– Oh, those Greeks, he smiled, moving in closer, his lips almost brushing mine. Kissing bartenders and democracy… is there no end to what they came up with?
Our lips met again. Tenderly, carefully. Hands stroking each other’s bodies, moving gently through the mist of urgency and the almost burning energy from just minutes ago.
– I could get used to this, Mats murmured, rubbing his chin lightly against mine.
– Maybe you could. And maybe you should.
– Yeah… maybe I should.
He smiled softly and kissed me again. Then, as if shifting gears completely, he said, – Let’s balance these amazingly perfect Cosmos to the veranda, shall we? I believe there’s a hammock waiting for us out there.
– With or without briefs?
He stopped to think, briefly glancing down at the small crumpled cloth of yellow fabric on the floor.
– D’you think I should use more sunscreen?
I laughed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.
– Yeah, you really should…
He turned towards the window, trying to catch his reflection in the glass.
– Really? Aren’t tan lines the shit these days?
– Not the same thing, Mats. You’ll get your tan lines if you stay in the sun for more than thirty seconds. Burned body? That’s where the sunscreen comes in. I mean, Mats, really…
I shook my head in disbelief, passing him with my Cosmo in one hand, pulling up my swim briefs with the other.
– You just enjoy watching yourself, with or without a tan line. Another thing you have in common with the old Greeks.
Mats mumbled something about the Greeks and how they really had their shit together.
The terrace stretched as wide as the house, broad enough to hold several sitting areas, all sheltered by an elegantly ornamented cast-iron structure.
Right outside the kitchen windows, the hammock waited alongside a few armchairs, their thick cushions resting against intricate, floral metal frames.
I sank into the hammock, setting my glass on the small table in front of it. The sound of the waves rolled in from the shore, steady, unhurried. Out here, the salty air felt stronger, as if it had seeped into the walls of the house itself.
Mats followed soon after, placing his drink next to mine before nudging me to the side so he could lie down, resting his head against my chest, with one arm leaning on my thighs.
He guided my arm so it rested across his chest, and I began stroking it, my fingers trailing softly through the patch of hair in the center.
The view was something else—the broad horizon of the Atlantic stretching endlessly beyond the dunes, and then, just to my right, Mats. His thick hair, his lean body. His bulge resting between those strong thighs, offering a glimpse of his pubes and the faint trail of hair leading up to his chest, rising and falling under my touch.
I leaned forward to pick up my glass, taking a short sip before Mats took it from my hand and drank as well.
– Have you ever thought about me like this? Us kissing and all?
I stayed silent for a moment, weighing my answer.
– Why do you ask?
– Just curious… I mean… it’s kinda a big thing. This. Us.
– Yeah, I guess… or… is it? Maybe that depends.
– Depends? Why? On what?
– Well… isn’t it just… Maybe… Maybe I don’t know what it is? Or it just is whatever we decide it is? Whatever we want it to be…
Mats rolled the glass between his fingertips before letting it rest on his thigh, close to that bulge. My mind drifted again.
– Yeah, maybe… He said. Not really much of an answer to my question, though.
I let out a short laugh.
– Sorry, yeah, I know—not much of an answer. It’s a Greek thing too.
Mats rolled his eyes at my reply.
– So, have you ever thought about me like this?
His fingers traced the rim of the glass, slow, deliberate.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Of course, I had. But I wasn’t about to give that away.
– Well, you know I’ve always said I think you’re handsome. Hot, even. So… in a way, maybe I have thought about you like that.
– Is that a lousy answer or what? C’mooon!
He set the glass down on the table and turned his upper body toward me.
– So, you’ve never thought about us kissing? About me kissing you? About us making out?
– Fuck, Mats, nooo—or… you know, maybe. But… not the way you seem to think of it. I’m sure of that.
Mats tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was challenged to solve. Then he leaned in and kissed my nipple.
– Not very eager to give anything away, are you?
I reached for the glass again, took a sip, then sighed.
– Why are you asking me this?
– Is it that strange? After what we just had?
He took the glass from my hand, bringing it to his lips.
– No, probably not. I just don’t know what to say. Maybe I don’t have an answer right this second.
– Because saying you’ve been fantasizing about me is too much to handle? Because admitting that us is… an actual thing in your life is too much to say to the other part of that us?
I took a deep breath and turned toward him. Those beautiful eyes, just centimeters away. His breath, warm, teasing, moving over my skin like ripples in water.
– Yeah, maybe so. Maybe that other part has been distant for so long that this part needs to understand what this really means before being able to give a proper answer.
He watched me again, thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.
– You don’t trust me… yeah, that’s it. You don’t trust me.
– Whaaaat—no? Why?... Well…well, if I don’t, would that be so strange?
– Yes, it would.
He turned, settling back against my chest again, placing my hand where it had been, letting me play with the hair on his chest.
– Or… maybe not. Maybe…
I felt his breath beneath my fingertips, slow and steady as I traced my hand up and down his chest, following that faint trail of hair along his stomach. He seemed to like it.
– I’m not perfect, you know, he murmured, placing his hand over mine.
– Oh, I know, I said, trying to lighten the mood.
– No, you don’t.
His voice was quiet, but firm.
– You always look at me like I am. Like I’m on this pedestal. Always adored.
– Do I?
– Yeah, you do. And it’s not that I mind. Or maybe… But it does make me think… that you have thought about me. About us. In many ways. I’ve always thought you did.
– If so… how come you never said a word about it?
– Well, like I said before… I was afraid. I’m not brave like you. I’m a coward.
– Coward?
– Stop, Erik. You know what I mean.
His hand guided mine over his chest, absentmindedly, like it was habit.
– Yeah, I’ve always thought you loved me. In some way. That you wanted me. And I’m sure that’s been true, in… you know... whatever state of love or attraction that was. I always kind of knew that you loved me.
Suddenly, I was pulled back to that moment in the kitchen—when he played with himself in front of me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was playing with me as well.
I turned my eyes back to the dunes, studying them in even greater detail.
– That really scared me, he continued. I mean, that love… how could I match that?
He exhaled, voice quieter now.
– I just… kind of entered your world, and you… like, in seconds—yeah, that’s right, in seconds—I knew that you loved me. And I was so scared of that.
He hesitated, then let out a dry laugh.
– Of a guy falling for me. And of everyone knowing I had a friend who was in love with me. That I’d be… smitten with that. Somehow.
His skin was so warm under my touch.
– And here I am, after this afternoon with you… and yeah… I can see why you wouldn’t trust me. Yeah, I see that. But it hasn’t been easy, you know. Balancing everything… or at least trying to. Hoping to. Being afraid… you know, cowardly afraid. Ashamed.
– Ashamed?
I pulled back slightly, my chest tightening.
– Mats… OK, I probably can see what you mean… but what are you after? What? Yes—you’ve been ashamed of me. I know that. That’s been brutally clear. For me. For anyone who actually gave a damn.
I exhaled sharply, my fingers tensing against his skin.
– Really, I don’t know what you’re after right now. And honestly? I’m a bit stressed out about it. All of… this… it makes me uncomfortable.
His grip tightened around my hand—not aggressively, just firm.
– I never said you were the one to be ashamed, Erik.
– No, you never said it. But I was. OK? You think I didn’t notice that? And what makes it even worse is that I fucking accepted it.
I let out a sharp breath, my chest tightening.
– Ohhhh… I’ve been so fucking stupid in all of this. Such a weak, fucking idiot. I should have… I should have…
I clenched my jaw, my voice breaking slightly.
–What should you?
– I should have, you know... Just left.
His grip tightened even more and my eyes got foggy.
– I just want to point out that I didn’t mean to make you cry, Erik.
The bastard knows me too well.
– Well, and yet… here we are. You telling me you were ashamed of me. And me reacting to that. What a beautifulsituation.
– No, really, Erik. I’m not playing you. I’m trying to be honest.
He lay still against my chest, his hand gripping mine. I felt the tension in his body, the way he was holding back.
– I just… why can’t we talk about it?
– Well, think for a second, would you? This isn’t some story where you’re the pathetic loser, hopelessly in love with someone. This isn’t about you being the friend to be ashamed of, just for thinking that someone might love him back…
– So you have been in love with me, then? He smiled.
– For fuck’s sake… really?
I tried to sit up, to pull away, but Mats shifted his weight, pressing his full upper body against mine, his grip firm around my hand. I pushed back, resisting—briefly—before the fight drained out of me.
I sighed, giving up, sinking back into the cushions.
Let it go, Erik. Just… let it go.
Mats didn’t say anything. I could feel his breath, steady, present. The sea stretched out before us, as magnificent as ever. The dunes were still just dunes, their shadows lengthening as the sun dipped. A slight, barely noticeable chill crept into the air.
The glasses sat waiting for us, still shimmering with translucent red, the last fragments of ice floating on the surface. But I didn’t feel like drinking. I didn’t feel like anything, really.
And I definitely didn’t feel like sitting here, pressed into the hammock with Mats anymore.
I didn’t want to feel the coarse tickle of his chest hair under my fingertips. The bulge between his thighs? Just cold meat under a yellow blanket. And those legs—those thighs—pale, hairy, just a pair of limbs. Nothing more.
Nothing at all.
Then there was a scream from the beach. A bright cry for heeelp! Immediate help. and NOW.
I recognized the voice.
And, as promised, here is the seventh part of the Beach House, where Erik and Mats try to navigate in this new landscape that is evolving in that house by the Atlantic.
You can read it in full on my Substack. I always enjoy taking part of your thoughts and comments.
---
I recognized the voice.
–It’s the girls, I said. Sounds like Anna, she’s your duty, you’d better go check on her.
Mats got up with a sigh, turned a round giving me a quick glance, then stepped over to the stairs.
– Wowowow, Mats said, blinking. – What happened here?
– It’s nothing! a bright voice called out as a silhouette in a wide sunhat, dark sunglasses, and a light blue bikini approached. – It’s really nothing. But it’s also a catastrophe! A crazy goddamn catastrophe!
– Wowowow, Mats repeated. – What the hell happened?
– The sun happened, Mats. The bloody sun happened. All over my back. I’ve burned so badly I am this close to crying. This close.
– Jesus, I muttered, getting up and stepping closer to her. – That bad, huh?
– Oh, Erik, it’s so bad that bad is a bad word for it.
– Oh, that bad? I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. – Well, poor Mr. Dictionary seems to have deserted…
A sharp, fiery glance from Anna shut me up mid-sentence. I could feel the ice in her eyes, even through the dark lenses.
Not very good timing, I thought as I moved closer to check her back.
Anna was very blonde, which only made the bright red, pinkish hue of her burned skin on her back stand out even more.
– Woops, I said. – Yeah… I can see how this might be painful. Oh, poor you.
– Thanks, Erik. Yeah—poor me, stupid me, for falling asleep in the sun. But it was sooo nice, Erik. And so calm and quiet after you two left.
– Oh, sweetie, Mats said. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I just knew my presence would be an inconvenience to you. Leaving felt like the only thing to do.
He shot me a look—has she gone mad? I shrugged, signaling that I had no clue whatsoever.
– Did you put on sunscreen? I asked.
She sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she took off her hat.
– I probably could’ve used more. I was waiting for Mats to put it on, but he took so long, and then I just… forgot.
– Wow, I said. – You two make a great couple. You really deserve each other. I mean, the money you’re saving on sunscreen alone? That’s trust fund levels of resources right there. Genius. I wish I had a plan like that. Cheers to you. I really mean it.
– Ha. Ha. Ha., Erik. Anna rolled her eyes. – Don’t compare me to Mats. I never forget sunscreen. He always does. And yet—who gets burned? Mats? Nooo. It’s me. And that, Erik, is so unfair.
– Yeah, he does have a bit of a bulletproof quality to him, I said, trying to look neutral while definitely feeling Mats’ eyes on me. – But maybe that’s what’s so great about him? I shrugged — I wouldn’t know.
– Oh, he’ll get his share one day, I’m sure, Anna muttered.
–Well, there is always hope, I said. Then I suddenly remembered I had some cooling lotion in my backpack and went to grab it.
– Here, I said, handing it to Mats, who was casually leaning against the railing, watching the scene unfold. – Might come in handy.
– Thanks, Erik, Anna said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. – You’re a daaaaarling.
We heard some new noises from the beach as Mats squeezed lotion onto Anna’s back.
– Oi there! Yo! Any valiant man up there ready to help a lady in distress?
I recognized my girlfriend’s voice, so I called back:
– There are men here, sure. Can’t see much of a lady, though.
– Get down here, asshole! I’m carrying a shitload, and it feels like I’m burning up.
– Just like Madonna, then.
– One more word, and I’ll kill you.
I hurried down the stairs to grab the bag she was holding, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
– No need to be upset, sweetie. I was busy rescuing Anna from what now looks like a classic “First day of vacay”disorder.
– You mean her back is burned, right? Well… take a look at mine.
She turned around, revealing an equally tragic sunburn.
– Wow, I said. Are you two really allowed to walk around without supervision?
– Fuck you, asshole.
– No, really. I mean this in the most caring way… but are you? Because it would be great to know if there are more wisely conducted activities coming up. Just in case I need to call the fire brigade. Or something.
She shot me a vicious look as she passed me on the wide staircase, shoving her sunhat into my hands.
– Thank you, sweetie. So happy to be of service.
I followed her up the staircase, where she grabbed the lotion from Mats’ hand and shoved it at me.
– Here, use it.
She turned toward the hammock, ready to be lotioned up, when she spotted the drinks on the table.
– You’ve got booze? Finally!
Without hesitation, she grabbed both glasses and downed them in two quick gulps.
– Boy, I needed that. What was it—Cosmos?
– Yup, I said, amused. – Glad to see that a sunburn won’t stop you from going full Viking.
– Cosmos ain’t Viking. Vodka is.
Mats watched her, raising an eyebrow.
– Well… one could argue that there actually was quite a lot of vodka in them. He paused. – Once.
– Mmm, I said, she’s not very fainthearted. That’s one thing we love about her. Descending from a long line of southern Swedish vodka lovers, that gal, and I’m sure they’re all very proud of her.
– Yes, I’m sure they are.
I started lotioning her back while the girls chatted between themselves. Not really interested, I let their voices blur into background noise and zoned out.
– So, I said after finishing, I guess some cold showers would be nice now, wouldn’t they? I stepped back to check the result of my work. I’ll go downstairs and prep them for you.
– You’d do that for us? That is so nice of you, Erik. You’ll get a gold star. A big one, Anna said.
– Thanks, Anna. Is that a promise? Would be fun to finally get one.
– You have plenty already, Erik. Loads of stars, Mats said. But I’ll gladly make one for you.
I met his gaze for a second, then looked away.
– Thanks, Mats. But a glass of wine would do for now.
I went down the stairs to the bottom floor, relieved to be alone for a while. The coolness from the thick stone walls and the deep shadows instantly settled over me, a welcome contrast to the heat outside.
Humming absently, I moved through the separate bedrooms, turning on the showers in the adjoining bathrooms. The steady sound of running water filled the quiet space. While at it, I also started the air conditioning, letting the chilled air spread through the rooms, cooling everything down.
Sussi, my girlfriend, had brought our suitcases into our rooms, so I sat down on the bed and unzipped mine, absentmindedly sorting through the things I’d packed. After a moment, I went to hang up a few clothes in the cupboard that stood, dark and massive, at the center of the wall.
Like fucking Narnia, I thought as I took in the big, oak monstrosity looming over me like some haunted relic.
I opened its doors slowly, half-expecting a faun or a goblin to leap out at me. But nothing unexpected happened—just the dry scent of cedar and dust rolling out, the kind these things always seem to hoard.
Perfect for the White Witch waiting upstairs, I muttered to myself, then immediately felt a twinge of guilt for the harsh words. He’s not a witch. He’s just… someone I’ve wasted way too much energy on. And that’s on me.
I changed into a t-shirt and shorts while hanging up my clothes, feeling the cool air from the AC spread through the room. It was refreshing, but not what I had come here for. I wanted warmth, sun, a breathtaking view, a chilled glass of wine in my hand.
More than anything, I just wanted to be happy.
Okidoki, Erik. Time to get back in the saddle.
I met the girls on their way downstairs, both still gushing about how much they appreciated the cold showers. Sussie kissed me in passing, somehow managing to say, "Nonono, don’t touch me, I’ll scream," before rushing into our room and carefully shutting the door behind her.
So, there I was. And when I stepped out onto the balcony, there was Mats.
– I’ll get some wine. You want some?
– Thanks, he said, but I feel more like a beer now.
– No prob, I’ll grab one for you.
During my absence, the girls had somehow managed to turn the place into a small disaster zone. An open bag of chips lay sprawled across one of the tables, crumbs everywhere. A bottle of white wine stood uncorked, a French version of Seven Up sitting next to it.
–Looks like someone had to have a blanco de Verano, then.
– It was impossible to stop them.
Mats’ voice came from straight behind me.
– Wise of you not to try. They’re lethal when they’re in that mood.
– They sure are.
He leaned against the same cupboard as before, watching me silently as I pulled out the wine and beer from the fridge. I poured his drink and handed it to him.
– Cheers, mate. May you live long and prosper.
He smirked a little and raised his glass in reply.
– Cheers.
We both sipped our glasses in silence, me staring out the windows.
– Maybe that hammock could use some company?
– Maybe it could. Would be a shame to leave it feeling neglected.
Mats followed me out onto the balcony, settling onto the hammock—this time on the other side. Careful. Measured. Making sure not to get too close. Not to touch me.
I took a deep sip of my wine.
– This view is magnificent, I said. Truly amazing. Worth every mile getting here.
– It sure is. This part of the coast is… just perfect.
– You think you’ll take your board out?
– I will. For sure. Today’s been too busy and… I… but… you know, maybe tomorrow.
– Yeah. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.
I started humming, soft at first. Tomorrow, tomorrow there’s always tomorrow…
I looked down at the wine swirling in my glass.
God, did I need it.
– What are your plans? Any ideas?
I hesitated. Everything I had thought of involved Mats and Anna, but now…
– Not sure... Maybe heading into La Rochelle. Jogging. Maybe there’s a gym nearby.
– A gym? Here? Are you insane? Sorry, I mean… but why? There’s the ocean, we can— I mean, you can swim… And you can borrow my board. If you want.
– Thanks, Mats. That’s nice of you. Well, let’s see, shall we. The girls probably have plans already.
– Yeah. Anna want to see the wine country, shop artisanal stuff from fat farmers… drink local wine… those things.
– Sounds fun to me. Anna knows her way.
– Yeah, she usually does… And Sussie?
– What about her?
– What’s her plans?
– Oh… don’t really know. She usually just tags along.
– So you make the plans, then?
– Yeah, well… usually. She’ll probably stick with Anna this time. Do girly stuff.
– So, getting tipsy, if I know my Anna correctly.
– Yes, and you probably know your Anna well enough to know.
He sighed and I could see that he wanted to say something, instead he took a sip of his beer in silence.
–About that dinner, you think the girls want to BBQ?
–Absolutely, I said, that’s a great idea.
–What if you take care of the food, and I’ll light the grill and set the table?
–Sounds great to me, perfect.
We both rose almost at the same time, Mats adjusting his swim briefs.
–I guess I better change into something more fitting the occasion.
I immediately thought of loads of comments, regarding the change… but I bit my tongue.
–Yes, it’ll probably be more comfortable for you with some clothes on. The evenings might be cooler here.
–Mmm, the day was hot enough, I guess.
–Yeah, I guess it was.
I went into the kitchen, making sure Mats knew I wasn’t watching him change clothes like before. That didn’t stop me from hearing him, though—moving chairs, dragging tables, getting the grill ready out on the balcony.
I linked my phone to the speaker waiting patiently by the fruit bowl, scrolling for something suitably French. Something classic.
– Oh hell yeah, I said as the first notes of La Mer filled the room. – Or wait… Oh la la la! Yes, mais oui. Oh la la la!
I poured more wine into my glass, swaying a little to the rhythm, and laid out the meat on the counter. Time to season.
– Oh là là, bien sûr! I said with a theatrical flourish. Le viande de la campagne!
Another sip—no, a giant gulp—followed, and suddenly I was seasoning like a Michelin-starred chef on opening night. A little too much salt, probably, but who cared? I was overflowing with joie de vivre, as the French would say.
After another gulp, I decided it was time to dive into the world of les légumes. I tore open the plastic bags from the Carrefour we’d stopped at, dumping them into the sink while letting the water run over them.
– Oh, mes petites légumes, I crooned in my most outrageously bad French accent. My darling little petites légumes. I weel cook joo with ze utmost caaare, mes petits amis.
I blew exaggerated kisses toward the carrots and tomatoes as if they were delicate Parisian socialites, still showering them with compliments for their beauty and undeniable Frenchness.
I hadn’t noticed Mats standing in the doorway, watching me quietly from the edge of the dining room. A careful smile hid behind his face, like he didn’t quite want to interrupt. Looking just a little bit like a puppy, waiting outdoors in the rain.
I froze mid-dance when I saw him, then—because why stop now?—I twirled around and poured him a glass of wine, offering it with a mock flourish.
– Voilà, monsieur! A leetle glass of ze wine, perhaps? Or are you still clinging to la petite bière?
Mats chuckled, shaking his head.
– I’d say it’s nearly impossibol to refuse wine after a performance like this.
I nodded appreciatively in agreement.
– Yeeez, ajj egreee, monsieur. À votre santé! Or chin chin—whatever suits you best.
– Aouw iz it goink widd ze baaahbique?
– Widd ze what?
– Widd ze bahhbeee… ah, sod it. The barbecue—going all right?
– Yup, the coals are heating up, the table’s set, and most of it’s ready—apart from what should actually be on the table, that is. I just came to grab the plates and stuff.
– Oh, so the table is very ready, then.
– Yeah, plates and stuff—that’s so bourgeoise, isn’t it?
– Very bourgeoise! Vive la révolution! We don’t need plates! We hate plates!
– Oh, do we? Do we really hate plates? Was that what it was all about?
– Yes, I’m pretty sure the revolution was all about plates. Plates, cutlery… and maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit about those who ate from them. But hey, I could be wrong.
– It would explain the obsession with design afterward, though. Getting rid of all those plates must’ve sparked a massive need for… porcelain.
I grabbed the small bowl that had been waiting next to the speaker.
– Happy porcelain, nota bene, I said, tapping it gently on the side.
– Yes – to happy porcelain!
– Liberté, fraternité and le porcelain!
We clinked glasses and drank. It was such a relief not feeling that hard, painful knot in my chest. At least for now, I was happy seeing Mats smile.
He had a such a nice one.
The evening passed in what might be called a blur. The girls came up, still wincing from the pain of their sunburns—a bit of a downer for their participation. But that didn’t stop Anna from raising an eyebrow halfway through her fifth (or sixth - but who’s counting) glass of wine.
– What was it with you two earlier?
We both stopped mid-bite, forks hovering awkwardly over our plates.
– What was what? I tried to sound casually confused.
– You two, Anna gestured vaguely with her fork, waving it between us like a detective making a crucial point. There was… a weird energy. Tense. Like you’d had a fight or something.
Mats let out a dry little laugh, stressed.
– Weird energy? You’re imagining things, Anna.
– Am I? She tilted her head, studying us both like we were bugs under glass. Normally, you’re all giggles and inside jokes. Today? You’re… polite. Too polite. I mean, seriously, what gives?
To be continued after the jump...
You can read it in full on my Substack. I always enjoy taking part of your thoughts and comments.
---
I recognized the voice.
–It’s the girls, I said. Sounds like Anna, she’s your duty, you’d better go check on her.
Mats got up with a sigh, turned a round giving me a quick glance, then stepped over to the stairs.
– Wowowow, Mats said, blinking. – What happened here?
– It’s nothing! a bright voice called out as a silhouette in a wide sunhat, dark sunglasses, and a light blue bikini approached. – It’s really nothing. But it’s also a catastrophe! A crazy goddamn catastrophe!
– Wowowow, Mats repeated. – What the hell happened?
– The sun happened, Mats. The bloody sun happened. All over my back. I’ve burned so badly I am this close to crying. This close.
– Jesus, I muttered, getting up and stepping closer to her. – That bad, huh?
– Oh, Erik, it’s so bad that bad is a bad word for it.
– Oh, that bad? I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. – Well, poor Mr. Dictionary seems to have deserted…
A sharp, fiery glance from Anna shut me up mid-sentence. I could feel the ice in her eyes, even through the dark lenses.
Not very good timing, I thought as I moved closer to check her back.
Anna was very blonde, which only made the bright red, pinkish hue of her burned skin on her back stand out even more.
– Woops, I said. – Yeah… I can see how this might be painful. Oh, poor you.
– Thanks, Erik. Yeah—poor me, stupid me, for falling asleep in the sun. But it was sooo nice, Erik. And so calm and quiet after you two left.
– Oh, sweetie, Mats said. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I just knew my presence would be an inconvenience to you. Leaving felt like the only thing to do.
He shot me a look—has she gone mad? I shrugged, signaling that I had no clue whatsoever.
– Did you put on sunscreen? I asked.
She sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she took off her hat.
– I probably could’ve used more. I was waiting for Mats to put it on, but he took so long, and then I just… forgot.
– Wow, I said. – You two make a great couple. You really deserve each other. I mean, the money you’re saving on sunscreen alone? That’s trust fund levels of resources right there. Genius. I wish I had a plan like that. Cheers to you. I really mean it.
– Ha. Ha. Ha., Erik. Anna rolled her eyes. – Don’t compare me to Mats. I never forget sunscreen. He always does. And yet—who gets burned? Mats? Nooo. It’s me. And that, Erik, is so unfair.
– Yeah, he does have a bit of a bulletproof quality to him, I said, trying to look neutral while definitely feeling Mats’ eyes on me. – But maybe that’s what’s so great about him? I shrugged — I wouldn’t know.
– Oh, he’ll get his share one day, I’m sure, Anna muttered.
–Well, there is always hope, I said. Then I suddenly remembered I had some cooling lotion in my backpack and went to grab it.
– Here, I said, handing it to Mats, who was casually leaning against the railing, watching the scene unfold. – Might come in handy.
– Thanks, Erik, Anna said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. – You’re a daaaaarling.
We heard some new noises from the beach as Mats squeezed lotion onto Anna’s back.
– Oi there! Yo! Any valiant man up there ready to help a lady in distress?
I recognized my girlfriend’s voice, so I called back:
– There are men here, sure. Can’t see much of a lady, though.
– Get down here, asshole! I’m carrying a shitload, and it feels like I’m burning up.
– Just like Madonna, then.
– One more word, and I’ll kill you.
I hurried down the stairs to grab the bag she was holding, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
– No need to be upset, sweetie. I was busy rescuing Anna from what now looks like a classic “First day of vacay”disorder.
– You mean her back is burned, right? Well… take a look at mine.
She turned around, revealing an equally tragic sunburn.
– Wow, I said. Are you two really allowed to walk around without supervision?
– Fuck you, asshole.
– No, really. I mean this in the most caring way… but are you? Because it would be great to know if there are more wisely conducted activities coming up. Just in case I need to call the fire brigade. Or something.
She shot me a vicious look as she passed me on the wide staircase, shoving her sunhat into my hands.
– Thank you, sweetie. So happy to be of service.
I followed her up the staircase, where she grabbed the lotion from Mats’ hand and shoved it at me.
– Here, use it.
She turned toward the hammock, ready to be lotioned up, when she spotted the drinks on the table.
– You’ve got booze? Finally!
Without hesitation, she grabbed both glasses and downed them in two quick gulps.
– Boy, I needed that. What was it—Cosmos?
– Yup, I said, amused. – Glad to see that a sunburn won’t stop you from going full Viking.
– Cosmos ain’t Viking. Vodka is.
Mats watched her, raising an eyebrow.
– Well… one could argue that there actually was quite a lot of vodka in them. He paused. – Once.
– Mmm, I said, she’s not very fainthearted. That’s one thing we love about her. Descending from a long line of southern Swedish vodka lovers, that gal, and I’m sure they’re all very proud of her.
– Yes, I’m sure they are.
I started lotioning her back while the girls chatted between themselves. Not really interested, I let their voices blur into background noise and zoned out.
– So, I said after finishing, I guess some cold showers would be nice now, wouldn’t they? I stepped back to check the result of my work. I’ll go downstairs and prep them for you.
– You’d do that for us? That is so nice of you, Erik. You’ll get a gold star. A big one, Anna said.
– Thanks, Anna. Is that a promise? Would be fun to finally get one.
– You have plenty already, Erik. Loads of stars, Mats said. But I’ll gladly make one for you.
I met his gaze for a second, then looked away.
– Thanks, Mats. But a glass of wine would do for now.
I went down the stairs to the bottom floor, relieved to be alone for a while. The coolness from the thick stone walls and the deep shadows instantly settled over me, a welcome contrast to the heat outside.
Humming absently, I moved through the separate bedrooms, turning on the showers in the adjoining bathrooms. The steady sound of running water filled the quiet space. While at it, I also started the air conditioning, letting the chilled air spread through the rooms, cooling everything down.
Sussi, my girlfriend, had brought our suitcases into our rooms, so I sat down on the bed and unzipped mine, absentmindedly sorting through the things I’d packed. After a moment, I went to hang up a few clothes in the cupboard that stood, dark and massive, at the center of the wall.
Like fucking Narnia, I thought as I took in the big, oak monstrosity looming over me like some haunted relic.
I opened its doors slowly, half-expecting a faun or a goblin to leap out at me. But nothing unexpected happened—just the dry scent of cedar and dust rolling out, the kind these things always seem to hoard.
Perfect for the White Witch waiting upstairs, I muttered to myself, then immediately felt a twinge of guilt for the harsh words. He’s not a witch. He’s just… someone I’ve wasted way too much energy on. And that’s on me.
I changed into a t-shirt and shorts while hanging up my clothes, feeling the cool air from the AC spread through the room. It was refreshing, but not what I had come here for. I wanted warmth, sun, a breathtaking view, a chilled glass of wine in my hand.
More than anything, I just wanted to be happy.
Okidoki, Erik. Time to get back in the saddle.
I met the girls on their way downstairs, both still gushing about how much they appreciated the cold showers. Sussie kissed me in passing, somehow managing to say, "Nonono, don’t touch me, I’ll scream," before rushing into our room and carefully shutting the door behind her.
So, there I was. And when I stepped out onto the balcony, there was Mats.
– I’ll get some wine. You want some?
– Thanks, he said, but I feel more like a beer now.
– No prob, I’ll grab one for you.
During my absence, the girls had somehow managed to turn the place into a small disaster zone. An open bag of chips lay sprawled across one of the tables, crumbs everywhere. A bottle of white wine stood uncorked, a French version of Seven Up sitting next to it.
–Looks like someone had to have a blanco de Verano, then.
– It was impossible to stop them.
Mats’ voice came from straight behind me.
– Wise of you not to try. They’re lethal when they’re in that mood.
– They sure are.
He leaned against the same cupboard as before, watching me silently as I pulled out the wine and beer from the fridge. I poured his drink and handed it to him.
– Cheers, mate. May you live long and prosper.
He smirked a little and raised his glass in reply.
– Cheers.
We both sipped our glasses in silence, me staring out the windows.
– Maybe that hammock could use some company?
– Maybe it could. Would be a shame to leave it feeling neglected.
Mats followed me out onto the balcony, settling onto the hammock—this time on the other side. Careful. Measured. Making sure not to get too close. Not to touch me.
I took a deep sip of my wine.
– This view is magnificent, I said. Truly amazing. Worth every mile getting here.
– It sure is. This part of the coast is… just perfect.
– You think you’ll take your board out?
– I will. For sure. Today’s been too busy and… I… but… you know, maybe tomorrow.
– Yeah. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.
I started humming, soft at first. Tomorrow, tomorrow there’s always tomorrow…
I looked down at the wine swirling in my glass.
God, did I need it.
– What are your plans? Any ideas?
I hesitated. Everything I had thought of involved Mats and Anna, but now…
– Not sure... Maybe heading into La Rochelle. Jogging. Maybe there’s a gym nearby.
– A gym? Here? Are you insane? Sorry, I mean… but why? There’s the ocean, we can— I mean, you can swim… And you can borrow my board. If you want.
– Thanks, Mats. That’s nice of you. Well, let’s see, shall we. The girls probably have plans already.
– Yeah. Anna want to see the wine country, shop artisanal stuff from fat farmers… drink local wine… those things.
– Sounds fun to me. Anna knows her way.
– Yeah, she usually does… And Sussie?
– What about her?
– What’s her plans?
– Oh… don’t really know. She usually just tags along.
– So you make the plans, then?
– Yeah, well… usually. She’ll probably stick with Anna this time. Do girly stuff.
– So, getting tipsy, if I know my Anna correctly.
– Yes, and you probably know your Anna well enough to know.
He sighed and I could see that he wanted to say something, instead he took a sip of his beer in silence.
–About that dinner, you think the girls want to BBQ?
–Absolutely, I said, that’s a great idea.
–What if you take care of the food, and I’ll light the grill and set the table?
–Sounds great to me, perfect.
We both rose almost at the same time, Mats adjusting his swim briefs.
–I guess I better change into something more fitting the occasion.
I immediately thought of loads of comments, regarding the change… but I bit my tongue.
–Yes, it’ll probably be more comfortable for you with some clothes on. The evenings might be cooler here.
–Mmm, the day was hot enough, I guess.
–Yeah, I guess it was.
I went into the kitchen, making sure Mats knew I wasn’t watching him change clothes like before. That didn’t stop me from hearing him, though—moving chairs, dragging tables, getting the grill ready out on the balcony.
I linked my phone to the speaker waiting patiently by the fruit bowl, scrolling for something suitably French. Something classic.
– Oh hell yeah, I said as the first notes of La Mer filled the room. – Or wait… Oh la la la! Yes, mais oui. Oh la la la!
I poured more wine into my glass, swaying a little to the rhythm, and laid out the meat on the counter. Time to season.
– Oh là là, bien sûr! I said with a theatrical flourish. Le viande de la campagne!
Another sip—no, a giant gulp—followed, and suddenly I was seasoning like a Michelin-starred chef on opening night. A little too much salt, probably, but who cared? I was overflowing with joie de vivre, as the French would say.
After another gulp, I decided it was time to dive into the world of les légumes. I tore open the plastic bags from the Carrefour we’d stopped at, dumping them into the sink while letting the water run over them.
– Oh, mes petites légumes, I crooned in my most outrageously bad French accent. My darling little petites légumes. I weel cook joo with ze utmost caaare, mes petits amis.
I blew exaggerated kisses toward the carrots and tomatoes as if they were delicate Parisian socialites, still showering them with compliments for their beauty and undeniable Frenchness.
I hadn’t noticed Mats standing in the doorway, watching me quietly from the edge of the dining room. A careful smile hid behind his face, like he didn’t quite want to interrupt. Looking just a little bit like a puppy, waiting outdoors in the rain.
I froze mid-dance when I saw him, then—because why stop now?—I twirled around and poured him a glass of wine, offering it with a mock flourish.
– Voilà, monsieur! A leetle glass of ze wine, perhaps? Or are you still clinging to la petite bière?
Mats chuckled, shaking his head.
– I’d say it’s nearly impossibol to refuse wine after a performance like this.
I nodded appreciatively in agreement.
– Yeeez, ajj egreee, monsieur. À votre santé! Or chin chin—whatever suits you best.
– Aouw iz it goink widd ze baaahbique?
– Widd ze what?
– Widd ze bahhbeee… ah, sod it. The barbecue—going all right?
– Yup, the coals are heating up, the table’s set, and most of it’s ready—apart from what should actually be on the table, that is. I just came to grab the plates and stuff.
– Oh, so the table is very ready, then.
– Yeah, plates and stuff—that’s so bourgeoise, isn’t it?
– Very bourgeoise! Vive la révolution! We don’t need plates! We hate plates!
– Oh, do we? Do we really hate plates? Was that what it was all about?
– Yes, I’m pretty sure the revolution was all about plates. Plates, cutlery… and maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit about those who ate from them. But hey, I could be wrong.
– It would explain the obsession with design afterward, though. Getting rid of all those plates must’ve sparked a massive need for… porcelain.
I grabbed the small bowl that had been waiting next to the speaker.
– Happy porcelain, nota bene, I said, tapping it gently on the side.
– Yes – to happy porcelain!
– Liberté, fraternité and le porcelain!
We clinked glasses and drank. It was such a relief not feeling that hard, painful knot in my chest. At least for now, I was happy seeing Mats smile.
He had a such a nice one.
The evening passed in what might be called a blur. The girls came up, still wincing from the pain of their sunburns—a bit of a downer for their participation. But that didn’t stop Anna from raising an eyebrow halfway through her fifth (or sixth - but who’s counting) glass of wine.
– What was it with you two earlier?
We both stopped mid-bite, forks hovering awkwardly over our plates.
– What was what? I tried to sound casually confused.
– You two, Anna gestured vaguely with her fork, waving it between us like a detective making a crucial point. There was… a weird energy. Tense. Like you’d had a fight or something.
Mats let out a dry little laugh, stressed.
– Weird energy? You’re imagining things, Anna.
– Am I? She tilted her head, studying us both like we were bugs under glass. Normally, you’re all giggles and inside jokes. Today? You’re… polite. Too polite. I mean, seriously, what gives?
To be continued after the jump...
Here is the eight part of the Beach House (a short part, as it didn't fit in part seven here on LPSG.)
I shoved a bite of grilled meat into my mouth, stalling for time. Polite. Yeah, that’s a word for it.
– Maybe we’re just tired, I offered, chewing slowly. Long day, long drive, long everything.
Anna didn’t look convinced. Her gaze flicked between me and Mats like she was waiting for one of us to give something away.
– Yeah, maybe, Mats mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on his plate.
She kept eating her salad, clearly deciding not to push the subject further.
– I didn’t notice anything, Sussie said, her mouth full of beans. You were the same unapologetically badly mannered men you’ve always been. As in, not helping a damsel in distress.
– Damsel? I looked around dramatically. Is there a damsel nearby?
She tilted her head, deadpan disbelief in her eyes.
– You’re really going that way?
– I’ll go any way where there’s a damsel in distress. I scanned the room slowly, making a point of my exaggerated search. But alas, none in sight. Looks like you’re stuck with me, darling.
– Another bad life choice, I guess.
– Could be worse, though.
– Could it really?
I nodded toward Mats, raising an eyebrow.
– Oh, really? Mats lowered his glass, looking mock-offended. You’re coming for me now?
– I’m coming for any easy target, you know that.
– So now I’m not just second-best, I’m easy too?
– Easy? Anna smirked. Oh, I assure you, Mats isn’t easy. Not even close.
– See? I spread my hands like I’d won a point in a debate. Validation from the jury.
Anna leaned in toward Mats, her voice dipping into a tipsy-sultry tone.
– I wish you were, though. Just a little easier. Flirty, fun, not so serious… You know, the way you are with Erik. A bit more carefree… and maybe dressed in mesh.
– Ohlala! I nearly spilled my wine. Now this is a conversation worth having. Mesh, you say?
– Yeah, I mean, you’re such a good-looking man, Mats. Why not push it a bit further?
Mats blinked, bewildered, staring straight at me as if I knew anything about this.
– You’ve been talking to Erik?
– No, why should I? But yes,… maybe I should. You’d probably listen more to him than to me, wouldn’t you?
Mats took a long, deliberate gulp of his wine, his eyes dropping to the table.
Anna turned toward me, her tipsiness softening her sharp tone, but not her honesty.
– You know, Erik, I think Mats would do anything for you. I really do. You should hear him talk about you—how clever you are, how brilliant your ideas are. If I didn’t agree with every word, I’d probably be jealous.
Now it was my turn to drain my glass.
– You have nothing to be jealous of, Anna. Believe me. Absolutely nothing. There’s only one sun in Mats’ universe, and it’s you.
Mats stayed quiet. I didn’t dare to look at him.
– Maybe so, she muttered, swaying slightly as she stood up, one hand bracing the table for balance. I should go to bed now—drown myself in paracetamol and bathe in that cooling lotion if I want any sleep tonight.
– You coming, Sussie?
Sussie got up quickly, like she’d been waiting for permission to leave.
– Yep. Pills and lotion—the key to every gal’s heart. Or back. Isn’t that right, boys?
– If you say so, I mumbled, trying to sound amused but feeling anything but.
The girls linked arms, a quiet solidarity between them, and as they turned toward the stairs, Anna looked back at us.
– I just want to say… it’s awful seeing you two like this. Angry. Distant.
– We’re not… I started.
– Hush, Erik. I know what I know. Whatever this is, fix it. There aren’t two men cuter together than you two. That’s the goddamn truth. Kisses and all that…
She waved her hand lazily, her tone too soft to be playful, and they disappeared down the stairs—two silhouettes leaning on each other like nothing in the world could break them.
I still couldn’t bring myself to look at Mats.
– No point in staring at the ocean now, is there? Mats leaned forward, lazily tracing the rim of his glass with a finger.
– I guess not… Maybe the moon will show, though.
Mats let out a soft laugh.
– The moon… Well, at least I’ve got one sun in my universe. Apparently.
I turned to him, unsure whether he was teasing or being sincere.
– You do. And isn’t that a good thing?
– God… I love you, but sometimes, Erik, you’re so clueless.
– Oh, so I’m—?
– Erik!... handsome. His eyes caught mine, warm, steady. Let’s not go there again. Please?
I nodded, a small breath of relief easing through me. Letting the heaviness fade.
Mats stretched his legs out, glancing toward the darkened beach.
– You know, the girls left half their junk down there… What do you say? We grab a bottle, head down, pick up the debris and enjoy the night for a bit?
– Sounds… great, I sighed.
– Wow, seems like miracles can still happen. He stood up, grabbed a bottle from the table offering me a hand. Come on Erik. Maybe things aren’t over between us just yet?
To be continued…
I shoved a bite of grilled meat into my mouth, stalling for time. Polite. Yeah, that’s a word for it.
– Maybe we’re just tired, I offered, chewing slowly. Long day, long drive, long everything.
Anna didn’t look convinced. Her gaze flicked between me and Mats like she was waiting for one of us to give something away.
– Yeah, maybe, Mats mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on his plate.
She kept eating her salad, clearly deciding not to push the subject further.
– I didn’t notice anything, Sussie said, her mouth full of beans. You were the same unapologetically badly mannered men you’ve always been. As in, not helping a damsel in distress.
– Damsel? I looked around dramatically. Is there a damsel nearby?
She tilted her head, deadpan disbelief in her eyes.
– You’re really going that way?
– I’ll go any way where there’s a damsel in distress. I scanned the room slowly, making a point of my exaggerated search. But alas, none in sight. Looks like you’re stuck with me, darling.
– Another bad life choice, I guess.
– Could be worse, though.
– Could it really?
I nodded toward Mats, raising an eyebrow.
– Oh, really? Mats lowered his glass, looking mock-offended. You’re coming for me now?
– I’m coming for any easy target, you know that.
– So now I’m not just second-best, I’m easy too?
– Easy? Anna smirked. Oh, I assure you, Mats isn’t easy. Not even close.
– See? I spread my hands like I’d won a point in a debate. Validation from the jury.
Anna leaned in toward Mats, her voice dipping into a tipsy-sultry tone.
– I wish you were, though. Just a little easier. Flirty, fun, not so serious… You know, the way you are with Erik. A bit more carefree… and maybe dressed in mesh.
– Ohlala! I nearly spilled my wine. Now this is a conversation worth having. Mesh, you say?
– Yeah, I mean, you’re such a good-looking man, Mats. Why not push it a bit further?
Mats blinked, bewildered, staring straight at me as if I knew anything about this.
– You’ve been talking to Erik?
– No, why should I? But yes,… maybe I should. You’d probably listen more to him than to me, wouldn’t you?
Mats took a long, deliberate gulp of his wine, his eyes dropping to the table.
Anna turned toward me, her tipsiness softening her sharp tone, but not her honesty.
– You know, Erik, I think Mats would do anything for you. I really do. You should hear him talk about you—how clever you are, how brilliant your ideas are. If I didn’t agree with every word, I’d probably be jealous.
Now it was my turn to drain my glass.
– You have nothing to be jealous of, Anna. Believe me. Absolutely nothing. There’s only one sun in Mats’ universe, and it’s you.
Mats stayed quiet. I didn’t dare to look at him.
– Maybe so, she muttered, swaying slightly as she stood up, one hand bracing the table for balance. I should go to bed now—drown myself in paracetamol and bathe in that cooling lotion if I want any sleep tonight.
– You coming, Sussie?
Sussie got up quickly, like she’d been waiting for permission to leave.
– Yep. Pills and lotion—the key to every gal’s heart. Or back. Isn’t that right, boys?
– If you say so, I mumbled, trying to sound amused but feeling anything but.
The girls linked arms, a quiet solidarity between them, and as they turned toward the stairs, Anna looked back at us.
– I just want to say… it’s awful seeing you two like this. Angry. Distant.
– We’re not… I started.
– Hush, Erik. I know what I know. Whatever this is, fix it. There aren’t two men cuter together than you two. That’s the goddamn truth. Kisses and all that…
She waved her hand lazily, her tone too soft to be playful, and they disappeared down the stairs—two silhouettes leaning on each other like nothing in the world could break them.
I still couldn’t bring myself to look at Mats.
– No point in staring at the ocean now, is there? Mats leaned forward, lazily tracing the rim of his glass with a finger.
– I guess not… Maybe the moon will show, though.
Mats let out a soft laugh.
– The moon… Well, at least I’ve got one sun in my universe. Apparently.
I turned to him, unsure whether he was teasing or being sincere.
– You do. And isn’t that a good thing?
– God… I love you, but sometimes, Erik, you’re so clueless.
– Oh, so I’m—?
– Erik!... handsome. His eyes caught mine, warm, steady. Let’s not go there again. Please?
I nodded, a small breath of relief easing through me. Letting the heaviness fade.
Mats stretched his legs out, glancing toward the darkened beach.
– You know, the girls left half their junk down there… What do you say? We grab a bottle, head down, pick up the debris and enjoy the night for a bit?
– Sounds… great, I sighed.
– Wow, seems like miracles can still happen. He stood up, grabbed a bottle from the table offering me a hand. Come on Erik. Maybe things aren’t over between us just yet?
To be continued…
Awesome additions and excellent writing ---makes us;; Hot as fuck for sure... Thanks
I've only just gotten to the two guys getting into the hammock, and already I just want to say how much I love it that these two can always come up with entertaining ways to banter with each other.
Oh, and yeah, Mats really does know Erik too well.
I think (not having read past part six yet) that that's why Erik doesn't trust Mats not to be toying with him.
On to part seven ...
I think (not having read past part six yet) that that's why Erik doesn't trust Mats not to be toying with him.
On to part seven ...
I think this is the first time I've ever encountered someone swaying to the rhythm of Debussy ...
I know this part ends with some hope as our heroes head down to the beach together, but this part broke my heart a little bit. Maybe that's because I really empathize with Erik, even as I see how foolish he's being in hanging on to his fear and mistrust.
And yeah, Mats is a coward for not being able to come out and say it to Erik, even though he knows that Erik would be receptive.
And I like the girls better than I thought I would. Anna in particular.
And yeah, Mats is a coward for not being able to come out and say it to Erik, even though he knows that Erik would be receptive.
And I like the girls better than I thought I would. Anna in particular.
Hahaha - why didn’t I think of that!?? Well, I’m probably (and Erik) too plain for some Debussy-swaying. I had this song in my head as I wrote:
Erik would love your care for him! Yes, there are some ghosts that reveal themselves as the boys grow closer and i enjoy unveiling these facets of their experience. How two lives lived so close can be so different from each other - with the consequences that follow.
And Anna adds some gusto, right?
Dear friends, here is the next part of The Beach House. Erik and Mats are navigating and exploring this new universe that they've unfolded between them. Step by step learning and experiencing what they really feel about each other.
As always - you can read the full story in one here on my Substack and I'm super happy if you share your thoughts and reactions to the story.
/Chris
He waited for me by the staircase, and when I walked up to him, he took my hand. Just like that. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
All it took was that small touch, and there it was again—the image of him by the sea, shorts clinging to his thighs, wind tearing through his hair, waves crashing high. And that grin, wide and reckless, like nothing in the world could touch him.
We walked down the stairs slowly, hand in hand, balancing glasses and the wine between us. He didn’t look at me, but it was obvious how he matched his pace to mine. That quiet, deliberate consideration. The kind that should’ve put me at ease.
But it didn’t.
Yes, his gaze was sincere. Yes, his touch was careful, steady, warm. But it had been a long time since we’d held hands, and all that carefulness didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.
I wished it had. I wanted to scream—shake off this damn melancholy.
The sand was still warm, and when we reached the spot where the girls had left their things, Mats buried the bottle under the surface.
– Old surfing knowledge. The sand keeps the wine warm enough to bring some warmth, as the evening gets chillier.
– Gosh, you do that? Drink wine, I mean. That you bury stuff in the sand goes without saying.
– Yup, we do. Crazy, isn’t it? Men with boards and sails and all… with wine?
– Knowing about wine—that’s the real surprise here. Aren’t you the healthy-smealthy kind of guys? Up at five, some granola and stuff, three liters of coffee, and off you go? Then, after hours upon hours in ice-cold waters, straight to an Irish pub for two Guinness before bed at nine?
Mats turned to look at me.
– That is actually quite an accurate description. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?
He grinned at me. That wide smile that reached his ears and deep, deep into my heart.
– Well… does it, now? Does it really? I’d say you need some fun in that scrupulously nice and healthy gang of yours. Someone to buzz things up a bit. Stir the Guinness, as they say—yes, I know they don’t, but they should, OK? Get y’all out partying more. An Ibiza/Galway kind of guy.
– Someone like you, you mean?
– Nah, nope—not saying that. Just someone with a bit more pizzazz, to spice things up a little.
– Why would I need that in my surf gang when I already have it?
– Well… so that all of those travels won’t get so boring for you. So your memories won’t just be of that wave, and thisbeach, and that storm, and those sea rescuers pulling you out from drowning… I mean, just to add some je ne sais quoi, as we said before.
– Oh Erik, can’t you see? I go to those remote beaches, have those two beers, because of that… I mean, that guy you’re talking about? He’s already spicing up every second I spend with him at home. This just makes it the perfect balance.
– Besides, do you think I want to share that guy with my surfdudes? Nooo way, José. Nonono, he’s all mine.
– All the way, May?
– Erik, is there any moment in life when you don’t have a Madonna reference ready?
– Well, you’re the one who caught it. I’m just exercising my artistic liberty, no matter what the Pope says.
– And there you go again. Maaah God!
He grabbed my shoulders, pulled me in close, and buried his nose in my hair. His grip was firm, his breath warm against my skin. I shivered.
– You smell good. You know that?
I shook my head, not daring to hold him as tightly as he held me.
– Well, you do.
He inhaled deeply, like he wanted to keep something of me inside him. Then, his hands shifted, palms resting on either side of my face. I watched his eyes move, scanning every detail of my face, every line.
And then, he kissed me.
Okay, maybe the world didn’t tumble into a jigg, and maybe the stars didn’t rearrange themselves into a Nike swoosh before sashaying away across the velvet-blue sky in a bold and sassy way that would turn Ariana Grande into Ariana Pequeña.
But maybe—just maybe—they did. And that’s an alternative truth I’m willing to accept.
It would explain the dizziness in my head. The way the ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. The absolutely logicalreason why my arms needed to latch onto something—someone—very, very tightly. And for a very, very long time.
Yes, he kissed me. And boy, did I kiss him back.
No, scratch that—I inhaled him. Every ounce, every drop, every wicked little thought that had ever had danced in my head now suddenly sprung to life—and I claimed them all.
What started out all tinkly tankly—soft kisses, nose tips brushing, teasing smiles—slowly, inevitably, turned into something more. Mouths open, tongues wrestling, breath hitching.
At first, his hands held my face still, close, like he was memorizing every pore, every eyelash, every detail—as if he was seeing me for the first time. I might have stopped breathing, but his breath washed over me like waves – steady, warm, relentless.
He pulled me in, steering me closer, like a giant Star Destroyer locking onto that tiny, helpless Rebel ship. Those lips, so gentle at first, so deceptively kind. Then his skin—warm, rough in just the right places—brushing against mine like the flickering wings of a hummingbird.
He kissed me. I kissed him back.
He was the one to open his mouth first, the one to let his tongue tease, testing the edges of my lips, easing its way in—searching, playful.
My tongue met his at the border, standing at attention. Armed, saluting. And, well… salivating as hell.
One of his hands let go of my chin, sliding down—first grazing my neck, then lower, tracing the valley of my spine. Gentle, deliberate, determined to find more.
I pushed into him, fingers threading through his thick, dark hair—flowing like floating water lilies between my hands. My palms traced the sharp, smooth contours where his shoulders met his triceps, feeling the shift of muscle beneath my touch, the hunger in his movements as his tongue searched deeper.
It wasn’t until his hands grabbed my ass and pushed my groin towards his that I noticed that huge bulge of his. Rock hard.
All my mind could think of was: Hell yeah!
The kissing turned feverish after that. I locked my arms around him, holding tight as his fingers dug deep into my ass, dragging me towards him, steering me like I was fucking him.
Back and… no, not so much back actually, but a lot of forth. One hand moved up, holding my waist, looking for a way in, under my shirt.
Our kissing was so intense, it was borderline mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We forced our hips to dance like serpents—cobras looking to play, wanting to sting.
Then his hand slid past my waistband, fingers pressing between my cheeks, claiming space.
I was dry fucking him now, and he wasn’t just letting it happen—he was pulling me into it, grinding back, his grip firm, his cock lined up perfectly with mine. Heat, friction, barely any fabric between us.
In my mind, his pubes were already teasing mine.
His cock throbbed against me, hard, desperate. His hands dragged me closer, forcing me into his rhythm, hips slamming into mine. My back arched instinctively, muscles tense, body wired. One hand stayed locked on my ass, the other slid under my shirt, palm hot against my back.
Then he pushed my shirt higher. I let him. Almost undressing me as we flushed together, skin burning, damp from heat and motion.
His lips left mine, trailing lower, breath rough against my neck. A slow lick. A sharp graze of teeth. Then a bite—harder this time, enough to make me jolt, to send a rush straight to my dick, to make me clutch at his back, his arms, him.
And then, just like that, he stopped. Smirking. Taking one step back. Then another, letting go of my hand.
— C’mon, catch me.
And then he ran.
Water splashed as his feet cut through the waves, his body moving fast, fluid.
I had never been more grateful for all those hours on the treadmill. I went after him.
Now, that boy had very long legs, and he knew how to use them. But me? Never underestimate a man who yearns.
Also, I think Mats had had way more wine than I had.
Not that it stopped him from teasing me—no, hell no. He ran backwards when he could, flashing that infuriating grin, turning just as I lunged for him. Laughing, reaching out, then pulling back.
I wasn’t laughing. I was too focused. There was a prize, and I would claim it.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt as he ran, slow, deliberate, letting me catch glimpses of his chest, his stomach, muscles shifting under smooth skin.
— You want this?
He spun toward me, opening the shirt wide. Then, instead of running, he stopped, just long enough to drag a finger down the trail of hair leading below his waistband. Watching me.
I grunted in response, too busy longing for him to bother with words.
— C’mon, Erik, I thought you were good at this!
— If you’re looking for good, find a saint! I shouted back.
He laughed. Then he tossed his shirt at me, a challenge—his hands already on the drawstring of his shorts.
He laughed and threw his shirt at me, now focused on untying his shorts while still running.
We had passed one or two houses, all dark now, resting behind the dunes. The night had settled in, but that didn’t seem to bother Mats. And as long as I could see the outline of him, I was more than happy.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. Turned. Watched me as I halted just a meter away. Both panting for breath.
– Pheeew, that was a race, Erik. Fuck, you’re good.
I just saved my breath, watching him, holding his shirt in one hand.
– Wow, you got my shirt. Thanks. Then… I’m sure you’re happy to… catch this!
He dropped his shorts to the ground, kicking them over to me.
– Here you are, handsome.
He laughed, hands resting on his hips as he stretched after the run. I couldn’t see much, but I could see enough to get hard again. And so did Mats. Apparently.
His hand moved to his crotch, fingers wrapping around his dick, propelling it slowly, visible like a pale propeller against his dark pubes.
Now that was a semi about to launch if I’ve ever seen one.
– You like what you see? He asked.
– Can’t see much.
I took a step closer.
– Oh, age has gotten to your eyes, has it?
– Fuck you, asshole.
– Not just yet.
He grinned, leaned in, and kissed me—slow, long, teasing. His hand moved away from his dick just as I was about to reach for it, and instead, he grabbed something from the sand.
I hadn’t even noticed the floating device before he snatched it up. Some kind of long, tubelike thing, probably left behind by some kids earlier in the day.
Then, with a laugh, he turned and sprinted toward the water, waves crashing around his ankles.
– Come and geeeet me!
I loved this.
I dropped my clothes in no time and ran after him, making bigger splashes than the waves. Then, as it got deeper, I dived into the sea and crawled toward that pale lighthouse waiting for me.
Was it cold, you might wonder? I have absolutely no idea. Again – never underestimate a man that yearns.
Mats swam away as I reached him, not far, but far enough. I followed, not far, but far enough. He was short on breath, pacing himself, leaning on that ridiculous tube thing, never losing me from sight.
-Fuck you’re hot, Erik.
-No, you’re hot, Mats
No, you’re hotter.
And then we burst out laughing.
We swam closer, finally treading water, just inches apart.
-You’re a fucking hunk, Erik.
I stopped myself from answering. Didn’t want to lose this moment.
-You are. A stud.
-Yeah, I am. A fucking beefcake.
- Hell yeah, man. Give me that biceps.
I stretched an arm up, flexing it.
-Too bad with the lighting, but I’m sure it must have been hot, he said and laughed and swam backwards.
-Fuck you, asshole!
I threw myself at him, splashing water. He grabbed me, held me tight, our legs slowly moving against each other beneath the surface.
He leaned back, gripping the tube with one arm, panting slightly as our bodies drew closer. I grabbed onto it too, hands on either side of him, feet treading water to keep us steady. The waves nudged us toward the beach, slow and unbothered.
I had no problem balancing with the help of the tube. Mats’ grip around my waist kept us both stable, but that was when I felt it—his cock, hard, pressing against my thigh.
He must have felt it too.
Our eyes locked again, breathing almost in sync, so close we could have been breathing into each other’s mouths. The only sound was the water clucking softly between us.
Then Mats smirked and began humming, somewhat unexpectedly:
-Oppa Gangnam style! He waved his arm under the water, making noises, mimicking the dance. Then again, louder: Oppa Gangnam style!
I laughed, shaking my head, then leaned in, burying my face into the crook of his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
– You. Are. Insane. You know that?
Mats exhaled, his breath ruffling my hair.
– Am I? Well, you seem to like it.
I could hear the grin in his voice. Smug. Playful.
– And also, this moment needs a proper soundtrack.
I tilted my head just enough to meet his eyes.
– Does it? And Gangnam Style is it?
His hand slid lower on my back, fingers pressing lightly. Not demanding. Not quite. But enough to remind me of the little space between us.
I didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. I just felt him. His warmth, his grip, his cock still pressing into me, the tension shifting, tilting into something heavier.
– Thought it was appropriate, he murmured, not moving away this time. – But it doesn’t seem like you agree.
I kissed him.
– No, it was very appropriate.
– Appropriate as in Perfect in every way?
His voice was teasing, but his legs were anything but. He let them spread open for me, then locked them around my thighs, drawing me in until our cocks met, slick from the water, pressing and shifting with the slow movement of the waves.
I adjusted my body, floating just above him, feeling every inch of him against me. Our dicks, hard and restless, rubbing with the motion of the tide. My breath hitched. So did his.
– Yeah, I sighed, pressing in just a little more. – Just like Mary Poppins. Perfect in every way.
To be continued…
As always - you can read the full story in one here on my Substack and I'm super happy if you share your thoughts and reactions to the story.
/Chris
He waited for me by the staircase, and when I walked up to him, he took my hand. Just like that. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
All it took was that small touch, and there it was again—the image of him by the sea, shorts clinging to his thighs, wind tearing through his hair, waves crashing high. And that grin, wide and reckless, like nothing in the world could touch him.
We walked down the stairs slowly, hand in hand, balancing glasses and the wine between us. He didn’t look at me, but it was obvious how he matched his pace to mine. That quiet, deliberate consideration. The kind that should’ve put me at ease.
But it didn’t.
Yes, his gaze was sincere. Yes, his touch was careful, steady, warm. But it had been a long time since we’d held hands, and all that carefulness didn’t make me feel any more comfortable.
I wished it had. I wanted to scream—shake off this damn melancholy.
The sand was still warm, and when we reached the spot where the girls had left their things, Mats buried the bottle under the surface.
– Old surfing knowledge. The sand keeps the wine warm enough to bring some warmth, as the evening gets chillier.
– Gosh, you do that? Drink wine, I mean. That you bury stuff in the sand goes without saying.
– Yup, we do. Crazy, isn’t it? Men with boards and sails and all… with wine?
– Knowing about wine—that’s the real surprise here. Aren’t you the healthy-smealthy kind of guys? Up at five, some granola and stuff, three liters of coffee, and off you go? Then, after hours upon hours in ice-cold waters, straight to an Irish pub for two Guinness before bed at nine?
Mats turned to look at me.
– That is actually quite an accurate description. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?
He grinned at me. That wide smile that reached his ears and deep, deep into my heart.
– Well… does it, now? Does it really? I’d say you need some fun in that scrupulously nice and healthy gang of yours. Someone to buzz things up a bit. Stir the Guinness, as they say—yes, I know they don’t, but they should, OK? Get y’all out partying more. An Ibiza/Galway kind of guy.
– Someone like you, you mean?
– Nah, nope—not saying that. Just someone with a bit more pizzazz, to spice things up a little.
– Why would I need that in my surf gang when I already have it?
– Well… so that all of those travels won’t get so boring for you. So your memories won’t just be of that wave, and thisbeach, and that storm, and those sea rescuers pulling you out from drowning… I mean, just to add some je ne sais quoi, as we said before.
– Oh Erik, can’t you see? I go to those remote beaches, have those two beers, because of that… I mean, that guy you’re talking about? He’s already spicing up every second I spend with him at home. This just makes it the perfect balance.
– Besides, do you think I want to share that guy with my surfdudes? Nooo way, José. Nonono, he’s all mine.
– All the way, May?
– Erik, is there any moment in life when you don’t have a Madonna reference ready?
– Well, you’re the one who caught it. I’m just exercising my artistic liberty, no matter what the Pope says.
– And there you go again. Maaah God!
He grabbed my shoulders, pulled me in close, and buried his nose in my hair. His grip was firm, his breath warm against my skin. I shivered.
– You smell good. You know that?
I shook my head, not daring to hold him as tightly as he held me.
– Well, you do.
He inhaled deeply, like he wanted to keep something of me inside him. Then, his hands shifted, palms resting on either side of my face. I watched his eyes move, scanning every detail of my face, every line.
And then, he kissed me.
Okay, maybe the world didn’t tumble into a jigg, and maybe the stars didn’t rearrange themselves into a Nike swoosh before sashaying away across the velvet-blue sky in a bold and sassy way that would turn Ariana Grande into Ariana Pequeña.
But maybe—just maybe—they did. And that’s an alternative truth I’m willing to accept.
It would explain the dizziness in my head. The way the ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. The absolutely logicalreason why my arms needed to latch onto something—someone—very, very tightly. And for a very, very long time.
Yes, he kissed me. And boy, did I kiss him back.
No, scratch that—I inhaled him. Every ounce, every drop, every wicked little thought that had ever had danced in my head now suddenly sprung to life—and I claimed them all.
What started out all tinkly tankly—soft kisses, nose tips brushing, teasing smiles—slowly, inevitably, turned into something more. Mouths open, tongues wrestling, breath hitching.
At first, his hands held my face still, close, like he was memorizing every pore, every eyelash, every detail—as if he was seeing me for the first time. I might have stopped breathing, but his breath washed over me like waves – steady, warm, relentless.
He pulled me in, steering me closer, like a giant Star Destroyer locking onto that tiny, helpless Rebel ship. Those lips, so gentle at first, so deceptively kind. Then his skin—warm, rough in just the right places—brushing against mine like the flickering wings of a hummingbird.
He kissed me. I kissed him back.
He was the one to open his mouth first, the one to let his tongue tease, testing the edges of my lips, easing its way in—searching, playful.
My tongue met his at the border, standing at attention. Armed, saluting. And, well… salivating as hell.
One of his hands let go of my chin, sliding down—first grazing my neck, then lower, tracing the valley of my spine. Gentle, deliberate, determined to find more.
I pushed into him, fingers threading through his thick, dark hair—flowing like floating water lilies between my hands. My palms traced the sharp, smooth contours where his shoulders met his triceps, feeling the shift of muscle beneath my touch, the hunger in his movements as his tongue searched deeper.
It wasn’t until his hands grabbed my ass and pushed my groin towards his that I noticed that huge bulge of his. Rock hard.
All my mind could think of was: Hell yeah!
The kissing turned feverish after that. I locked my arms around him, holding tight as his fingers dug deep into my ass, dragging me towards him, steering me like I was fucking him.
Back and… no, not so much back actually, but a lot of forth. One hand moved up, holding my waist, looking for a way in, under my shirt.
Our kissing was so intense, it was borderline mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We forced our hips to dance like serpents—cobras looking to play, wanting to sting.
Then his hand slid past my waistband, fingers pressing between my cheeks, claiming space.
I was dry fucking him now, and he wasn’t just letting it happen—he was pulling me into it, grinding back, his grip firm, his cock lined up perfectly with mine. Heat, friction, barely any fabric between us.
In my mind, his pubes were already teasing mine.
His cock throbbed against me, hard, desperate. His hands dragged me closer, forcing me into his rhythm, hips slamming into mine. My back arched instinctively, muscles tense, body wired. One hand stayed locked on my ass, the other slid under my shirt, palm hot against my back.
Then he pushed my shirt higher. I let him. Almost undressing me as we flushed together, skin burning, damp from heat and motion.
His lips left mine, trailing lower, breath rough against my neck. A slow lick. A sharp graze of teeth. Then a bite—harder this time, enough to make me jolt, to send a rush straight to my dick, to make me clutch at his back, his arms, him.
And then, just like that, he stopped. Smirking. Taking one step back. Then another, letting go of my hand.
— C’mon, catch me.
And then he ran.
Water splashed as his feet cut through the waves, his body moving fast, fluid.
I had never been more grateful for all those hours on the treadmill. I went after him.
Now, that boy had very long legs, and he knew how to use them. But me? Never underestimate a man who yearns.
Also, I think Mats had had way more wine than I had.
Not that it stopped him from teasing me—no, hell no. He ran backwards when he could, flashing that infuriating grin, turning just as I lunged for him. Laughing, reaching out, then pulling back.
I wasn’t laughing. I was too focused. There was a prize, and I would claim it.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt as he ran, slow, deliberate, letting me catch glimpses of his chest, his stomach, muscles shifting under smooth skin.
— You want this?
He spun toward me, opening the shirt wide. Then, instead of running, he stopped, just long enough to drag a finger down the trail of hair leading below his waistband. Watching me.
I grunted in response, too busy longing for him to bother with words.
— C’mon, Erik, I thought you were good at this!
— If you’re looking for good, find a saint! I shouted back.
He laughed. Then he tossed his shirt at me, a challenge—his hands already on the drawstring of his shorts.
He laughed and threw his shirt at me, now focused on untying his shorts while still running.
We had passed one or two houses, all dark now, resting behind the dunes. The night had settled in, but that didn’t seem to bother Mats. And as long as I could see the outline of him, I was more than happy.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. Turned. Watched me as I halted just a meter away. Both panting for breath.
– Pheeew, that was a race, Erik. Fuck, you’re good.
I just saved my breath, watching him, holding his shirt in one hand.
– Wow, you got my shirt. Thanks. Then… I’m sure you’re happy to… catch this!
He dropped his shorts to the ground, kicking them over to me.
– Here you are, handsome.
He laughed, hands resting on his hips as he stretched after the run. I couldn’t see much, but I could see enough to get hard again. And so did Mats. Apparently.
His hand moved to his crotch, fingers wrapping around his dick, propelling it slowly, visible like a pale propeller against his dark pubes.
Now that was a semi about to launch if I’ve ever seen one.
– You like what you see? He asked.
– Can’t see much.
I took a step closer.
– Oh, age has gotten to your eyes, has it?
– Fuck you, asshole.
– Not just yet.
He grinned, leaned in, and kissed me—slow, long, teasing. His hand moved away from his dick just as I was about to reach for it, and instead, he grabbed something from the sand.
I hadn’t even noticed the floating device before he snatched it up. Some kind of long, tubelike thing, probably left behind by some kids earlier in the day.
Then, with a laugh, he turned and sprinted toward the water, waves crashing around his ankles.
– Come and geeeet me!
I loved this.
I dropped my clothes in no time and ran after him, making bigger splashes than the waves. Then, as it got deeper, I dived into the sea and crawled toward that pale lighthouse waiting for me.
Was it cold, you might wonder? I have absolutely no idea. Again – never underestimate a man that yearns.
Mats swam away as I reached him, not far, but far enough. I followed, not far, but far enough. He was short on breath, pacing himself, leaning on that ridiculous tube thing, never losing me from sight.
-Fuck you’re hot, Erik.
-No, you’re hot, Mats
No, you’re hotter.
And then we burst out laughing.
We swam closer, finally treading water, just inches apart.
-You’re a fucking hunk, Erik.
I stopped myself from answering. Didn’t want to lose this moment.
-You are. A stud.
-Yeah, I am. A fucking beefcake.
- Hell yeah, man. Give me that biceps.
I stretched an arm up, flexing it.
-Too bad with the lighting, but I’m sure it must have been hot, he said and laughed and swam backwards.
-Fuck you, asshole!
I threw myself at him, splashing water. He grabbed me, held me tight, our legs slowly moving against each other beneath the surface.
He leaned back, gripping the tube with one arm, panting slightly as our bodies drew closer. I grabbed onto it too, hands on either side of him, feet treading water to keep us steady. The waves nudged us toward the beach, slow and unbothered.
I had no problem balancing with the help of the tube. Mats’ grip around my waist kept us both stable, but that was when I felt it—his cock, hard, pressing against my thigh.
He must have felt it too.
Our eyes locked again, breathing almost in sync, so close we could have been breathing into each other’s mouths. The only sound was the water clucking softly between us.
Then Mats smirked and began humming, somewhat unexpectedly:
-Oppa Gangnam style! He waved his arm under the water, making noises, mimicking the dance. Then again, louder: Oppa Gangnam style!
I laughed, shaking my head, then leaned in, burying my face into the crook of his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
– You. Are. Insane. You know that?
Mats exhaled, his breath ruffling my hair.
– Am I? Well, you seem to like it.
I could hear the grin in his voice. Smug. Playful.
– And also, this moment needs a proper soundtrack.
I tilted my head just enough to meet his eyes.
– Does it? And Gangnam Style is it?
His hand slid lower on my back, fingers pressing lightly. Not demanding. Not quite. But enough to remind me of the little space between us.
I didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. I just felt him. His warmth, his grip, his cock still pressing into me, the tension shifting, tilting into something heavier.
– Thought it was appropriate, he murmured, not moving away this time. – But it doesn’t seem like you agree.
I kissed him.
– No, it was very appropriate.
– Appropriate as in Perfect in every way?
His voice was teasing, but his legs were anything but. He let them spread open for me, then locked them around my thighs, drawing me in until our cocks met, slick from the water, pressing and shifting with the slow movement of the waves.
I adjusted my body, floating just above him, feeling every inch of him against me. Our dicks, hard and restless, rubbing with the motion of the tide. My breath hitched. So did his.
– Yeah, I sighed, pressing in just a little more. – Just like Mary Poppins. Perfect in every way.
To be continued…
Well, at least both of the girls can give the boys as much shit as they give each other.
Nevertheless, if Sussie is going to be like this, then Mats is clearly the better match for Erik.
Okay, I do like Anna. Nevertheless ...
Oh good! Maybe Anna and Sussie really are in bed together scissoring while Mats and Erik are on the beach frolicking. That would make the future much simpler ...
