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The guy at the rental shack is hot as hell.
He isn’t as tall as Matthew usually likes them—his last serious ex was over six feet, so his expectations are quite literally set a little too high—but his broadness more than makes up for it, short and stocky and defined to heaven and back. He’s sporting an elfish kind of grin and the beginnings of a surfer’s tan sunk deep into his skin. The way he leans over the rental counter, looking perfectly at home among the boogie boards in his pink Hawaiian shirt—secure masculinity is so sexy—makes Matthew pant a little.
Mentally slapping himself in the face, chest, and dick, Matthew has to take a moment to remind himself that he’s sworn off hot guys. And that he can’t go around jumping the balls of every hot guy he sees, because he’s had way too many bad experiences by now. He’s got to pick the best ones out and leave the trash for the streets. He's got to be discerning.
Imagine yourself talking to your best friend about this person, the therapist at the Situationships Anonymous meeting had said after Matthew had experienced a friends-with-benefits situation so bad that the dude had two-pump chumped and dumped him and Matthew had still begged him to come over Saturday. How would they react?
So Matthew quickly pulls up the game show in his head, labelled WWTS, or What Would Taerae Say? The answer’s pretty obvious. Taerae would say, “Ride him so hard his dick ends up suction-cupped into your guts.” Gong Yoo will turn the board over (hey, no one ever said Matthew’s imagination had to be realistic) and that exact answer will be right at the top, complete with an extra hundred points and a ding ding ding! So with that out of the way, Matthew flexes his biceps, pops his pectorals, and promptly saunters over to the boogie board rental shack.
The guy’s face instantly breaks out into a grin the second he sees Matthew. Matthew doesn’t miss the way his eyes rove over his figure—checking him out, obviously. Matthew’s not entirely unsurprised. He doesn’t spend eight hours at the gym every week for no reason, and men are always bolder on vacation. (If the hot dude even is on vacation. Maybe he just works here.) Something about the knowledge of never seeing each other again. Matthew can’t complain. It’s the perfect remedy for his habit of accidentally ending up in awful situationships.
“Slow day?” Matthew asks, nodding at the rental shack, empty save for him, the hot guy, and an approaching lady with a fiver in her hand. It’s one of the nicer rental shacks he’s seen, with like, actual walls and even a window and shit. No door. Could be way worse.
“Probably,” the guy replies, taking the bill from the woman and unhooking the board she points at from the wall. He’s got this heavily-accented English, but it doesn’t seem to match that of Matthew’s Korean friends. Probably not Chinese either. Japanese, Matthew guesses. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just watching this thing for an hour while my friend has his lunch break.”
Oh, we could break for lunch too, but we wouldn’t be eating food, if you get my drift, Matthew almost says, but because the one thing Taerae has always preached is being hard-to-get, he chuckles instead. “Making you work on holiday? Do you get a cut?”
“I wish,” the dude snorts. “Nope, I’m basically free labour.” He shrugs. “Could be worse, I guess. It’s a nice break from the Osaka winter.” The guy hands the board to the lady before swivelling to Matthew, leaning over the counter with his arms folded. Matthew drools a little. Guys who lean are so sexy. “So? What size board do you want?”
“What size do you think I look like?” Matthew questions playfully, throwing in a wink that he hopes comes off as flirty instead of Creepazoid 3000.
The dude gives him another once-over—twice-over? “Big,” he replies, not an ounce of shame in his tone, and it takes every bit of Matthew’s self-control to keep from ripping the guy’s clothes off right here and now and riding him over the counter, lack of door be damned. He grins. He’s got a really nice grin—all lopsided and boyish. Sexy. But everything about this guy’s fucking sexy. (Seriously, if Matthew doesn’t get to hook up with him at least once before he goes back to Canada, he’s missing his flight.) “If you get my drift.”
“Depends on what kind of drift you’re referring to. If we’re talking about surfing, I personally prefer to ride a good hard wave.” Fuck it, he’s got nothing to lose and this guy’s obviously interested. It’s not like Matthew is a stranger to one-night (one-day?) stands, anyway.
The dude’s tongue darts out, swiping over his lower lip. “Oh, yeah, me too. Although I’m pretty flexible, so as long as I’m getting wet, whichever way doesn’t really matter to me.”
Fuck, he’s perfect. Matthew can’t keep the grin off his face when he says, “I’m Matthew. How long’s your friend going to be away for?”
“Keita.” Keita smirks. “Long enough, I’m pretty sure.”
The shack’s pretty big, by boogie board rental shack standards. Big enough that Matthew’s only like, thirty-percent sure they’ll get caught when him and Keita end up in the backroom of the shack (where all the extra boards are, probably, according to Keita), nothing standing between them and the decidedly doorless public besides the Closed sign on the front of the shack. The backroom doesn’t have a door either. Literally anyone could push past the sign, walk up to the counter, and catch them in the act. The thought shouldn’t make Matthew even harder. It does.
“You know,” Keita pants in between kisses—not a particularly long cooldown time, considering how he’s a really good kisser and Matthew thinks he might actually want to devour him alive, “I’m really glad you showed up. I don’t know shit about bodyboarding, so I was honestly dreading when someone would show up and not immediately know what board they want. I mean, come on! I’m a beach volleyball type of guy!”
“Oh, so you would have hooked up with any guy willing to distract you from your job?” Matthew taunts.
Keita nips at his lower lip. Hard enough for it to hurt. (Shit, Matthew loves a biter.) “Only if they were as cute as you. And that’s a pretty hard bar to hit.”
It’s almost too easy to get Keita up against the wall. To work his pants down his hips until Matthew can get a good fistful of his ass in his hands and squeeze, because jeez, he’s got a really nice ass. All big and round and perfect, and okay, maybe Matthew feels like a bit of a perv for objectifying him this way, but he’s literally feeling the guy up. They’re basically both pervs at this point. “What do you prefer?” he asks. “Top? Bottom? I don’t think we’ve got time for both, but I’m down to try if you want to.”
Keita kisses him again, tongue pushing past his teeth, all spit and slick and wet. Might honestly be one of the top ten kisses Matthew’s ever had, and it’s not like the sample size is particularly small. “I told you, I’m good with either.” Matthew feels him grin against his lips, canines digging into Matthew’s skin just hard enough to sting, and it only serves to make him harder, especially when he’s grinding up against Keita’s length like this and there’s just so much to touch. “Though I think—” His hand presses past Matthew’s waistband, giving his cock a hard squeeze, and Matthew can’t hold back his moan. “—that you want to fuck me right now.”
He’s not wrong. Matthew thinks he’ll be seeing that ass in his wet dreams for the next twenty years or so. He’ll be almost fifty and still getting off to the one time he shacked up (heh, he’s got jokes) with a super hot Japanese tourist with an incredible ass.
A chuckle escapes Keita’s lip as he dives in to catch Matthew’s lower lip between his teeth. “You’re drooling, loverboy.”
“Yes,” Matthew blurts, almost too quickly. Whatever. He’s way past shame by now. “I mean—fuck, yes, please—”
Keita laughs harder. “Good puppy,” he teases mockingly, and hoooolllyshit Matthew is sofuckinghard. He can almost hear Taerae in his head telling him to get the fuck up, but Taerae once flew eight hours just to get dick, so he has no right to talk. At least Matthew’s already here. He’s treated to the gorgeous sight of Keita shuffling around with his pants still around his knees (and somehow managing to still look sexy in the process, truly a useful skill Matthew needs to learn for…tax purposes), pressing his hands to the wall. Spreads his legs. Wiggles his butt. Shoots an expectant glance back at Matthew. Matthew definitely gets the drift.
Keita’s probably expecting him to go in with his fingers, but Matthew loves subverting expectations, so he spreads Keita’s ass apart—really gets a firm grasp on his cheeks, because hell, he’s not sure when he’ll get to feel this again, if ever—takes a moment to admire the tight pink pucker of his hole (even his asshole is perfect, was this guy engineered in a lab?), and promptly gets his mouth on Keita.
At the first press of Matthew’s tongue to his twitching rim, Keita lets out a moan Matthew’s sure anyone outside can hear. He’s tight. Really tight. Matthew reaches his hand between Keita’s legs, wraps his hand around his cock, tongues at his rim until he relaxes enough for him to push the tip of his tongue inside.
Keita bites back a curse, thighs shaking as Matthew presses his tongue in deeper, does his best to fuck in as far as he can before pulling back to lick around his rim, gets him real sloppy with slick and spit. Matthew knows he’s good with his tongue, but the way Keita’s just so vocal is definitely a major ego boost, breathy little whines punching out of his throat, hips arching up into Matthew’s mouth.
He pulls away, savouring Keita’s complaining whine as he presses a thumb to his rim, pushes the digit in just enough to watch his hole stretch around it. He’s so freaking pink down there, all loose and desperate now, hole fluttering up at Matthew like it’s desperate for a cock in it. Sucks Matthew’s index finger in too like it’s nothing, a quiet moan free-falling from his mouth when Matthew scissors his fingers apart.
“Got any lube?” Matthew pants, unwilling to break away from Keita’s glorious ass in favour of searching the backroom for anything that isn’t a boogie board or a grimy wife-beater. (Or the cockroaches chilling in the corner of the backroom, playing go fish with extra-tiny cards. Fucking voyeurs.)
Keita snorts. “Do you think I walk around every day with the intention of randomly getting laid?”
“You propositioned me with stupid wave innuendos!”
“Yeah, like I said! You’re the exception, not the rule!” Keita’s head swivels backwards, wrinkling his nose. “Wait, you think my wave innuendos are stupid?”
“I mean, kinda, but they’re effective—”
“If we’re talking about effective, I don’t have lube, but I’ve got some sunscreen on me,” Keita interjects, and it takes Matthew a full minute to process what he means.
Matthew freezes (makes Keita whine at him and clench around his fingers, loose enough now for him to push a third one in), hoping he doesn’t look as starstruck as he feels. “You’d put sunscreen up your ass for me?”
“Of course I would. You’re really hot, you seem like a pretty decent guy, and you’ve got a great tongue. I’ve done a lot worse for less.” Keita says it like it’s a fact. Like he isn’t encouraging Matthew to put sunscreen in him right now. “Besides, it’s a hundred percent natural coconut oil or some shit like that, so it’s got to be usable, right?”
“Maybe? Theoretically, it seems like it could work, but—”
“And results are really all we need. Sunscreen’s in my right pocket,” Keita says, and Matthew falls a little in love right then and there. His hands must move faster than his brain (currently sitting on the grimy shack floor in a puddle of peach ice cream, still dripping out of his ears), because he tugs his fingers out and fumbles for the pants hanging around Keita’s knees so hurriedly that he almost knocks over a stray cluster of boards.
Keita laughs. Like he isn’t half-naked in the backroom of a rental shack, ass-up and hole still wet, nothing but a flimsy little Closed sign standing in between them and someone walking in. “Slow down, surfer.”
“I personally prefer swimming,” Matthew quips, working the sunscreen out of Keita’s pocket. Hundred percent natural coconut oil, just as Keita said. It’s half-empty, but there’s more than enough for their intended purposes. Matthew makes a mental note to buy Keita a new bottle of sunscreen after this, if Keita sticks around long enough to let him. “Really gets all your muscles working.”
“I don’t think swimming is the only way we can get our muscles working,” Keita shoots back immediately, and if Matthew doesn’t get inside him pronto he might actually die.
He gives a hard slap to that perfect ass, making Keita moan and arch his back. “Turn around. Wanna fuck you against the wall.” Because heck, he’s really pretty and Matthew’s probably never going to see him again after this, so he might as well enjoy the view while he still can.
He half-expects Keita to make him beg for it, a little mean just the way Matthew likes it, but he’s evidently just as desperate as Matthew is, because he complies easily, letting Matthew flip him over and kiss him again. Pushes his tongue right in Matthew’s mouth and holy shit, he really is a freak. Matthew genuinely could fall for this guy.
It takes all his effort to break away from Keita in favour of flicking the sunscreen—it’s lube today, he supposes—cap open, the thick liquid inside coming out in spurts of white over his fingers. Keita snickers. Matthew spanks him again for that, and if the way his fingers tangle themselves into Matthew’s hair is any indication, he definitely likes it.
When it’s between his fingers like this, it really does look a lot like lube. Enough for him to be both delusional and horny enough to pretend it is, anyway. In normal circumstances, he’d be more worried about chafing or infections or accidental alcohol anal absorption or whatever, but right now, Matthew’s so hard that his dick might actually explode within the next two-point-five seconds, so he chooses to believe in the power of yaoi and works his cock out of his shorts. If this doesn’t work out, at least his dick won’t get sunburn.
He squirts a generous amount over Keita’s rim, eliciting a hiss as the viscous liquid drips into his hole. Keita’s complaints fade into the lewdest moans Matthew’s ever heard when Matthew fucks three fingers into him, the sunscreen doing a surprisingly good job of easing the slide when he stretches his digits apart. He’s all loose and pliable around his fingers, so Matthew figures it’s as good a time as any and promptly slicks himself up.
Something like a whimper punches itself out of Keita’s chest when Matthew presses the engorged head of his cock to his rim. Matthew isn’t exactly huge, but he knows he’s thick and next to his dick, Keita’s hole looks so fucking tiny. Like it might rip apart the second Matthew tries to force his way in.
“I’m not going to break, you know,” Keita says, as if sensing Matthew’s hesitation. “I’ve done this before. Probably more times than you have.” There’s a competitive glint in his eye, something light and teasing and hopelessly aroused. His hole twitches against Matthew’s tip and Matthew’s never claimed to be a strong man, so he digs his nails into Keita’s hips and pushes in.
Matthew swears he hears a few angels sing, because this feels like absolute heaven. Keita is so tight and warm, squeezing around the head of his cock, moaning like a pornstar with every inch of dick that Matthew feeds into him. His legs come up to wrap around Matthew’s waist, and Matthew’s never been so grateful for the countless hours spent at the gym, leaving him strong enough for him to hold Keita in place and make him take it.
“Fuck, you’re big,” Keita hisses through gritted teeth when Matthew finally bottoms out, fingers tugging at his hair urgently. The light sting of his scalp only makes him harder, somehow, hips jerking with the urge to just ruin Keita. Then Keita looks up at him through half-lidded eyes almost black with delight and all self-restraint flies out of the window.
His first thrust is experimental, testing if Keita’s adjusted enough yet, and when Keita moans and arches his back against the shack wall, Matthew throws the rest of his caution to the wind. Fucks in deep before tugging himself back out, nothing but his tip stretching Keita’s rim wide until Keita’s begging for more, balls slapping against his ass with every thrust.
It’s fucking divine. Like Matthew’s going to the sky and back with every movement of his hips, cock burying itself deep in silky warmth. Keita keeps clenching and it feels fucking fantastic, made better only by the sting of his hand buried in Matthew’s tangled locks and the way he’s just so incredibly receptive, meeting Matthew thrust for thrust. Matthew can barely hear Keita’s wanton gasps over the sound of his own moans, but he can’t hold back a teasing, “More times than me, huh? Were you this much of a whore during all of them?” He delivers a hard slap to Keita’s ass, satisfaction flooding his chest at the way Keita keens. Rocks back into his touch like he can’t decide whether he wants more of Matthew’s hand or his cock.
Between ragged pants, Keita manages a quipped, “Can’t believe you’re saying that when you haven’t stopped moaning like a little bitch since we started.” Punctuates the statement with a sharp tug to Matthew’s hair, forcing an absolutely ungodly noise out of his mouth. He clenches down harder and Matthew damn near cums on the spot, nothing but pride holding him back. “Does knowing everyone outside can hear us get you off?”
“Of course.” Matthew leans down to nip at Keita’s throat, tongue lapping over whatever little skin his Hawaiian shirt exposes. “I love the idea of anyone coming in here and seeing you pinned under me like this. Think I could make it all the way to the entrance with you on my cock so I can take the Closed sign off and let everyone watch?”
Keita laughs. Incredulous and turned on all at the same time. Yanks Matthew’s head up until their lips meet, grinning into the kiss. “You’re insane. I like that.”
Matthew can’t hold back his own smirk. “You’re one to talk.”
He reaches down to wrap one hand around Keita’s rock-hard cock, nailing his prostate at the same time, and Keita damn near yanks a fistful of his hair out. The sharp pain makes Matthew gasp. Almost cums on the spot. Keita’s dick is big, not quite as thick as he is but longer, even larger in his small hand. His mouth waters at the thought of it inside him. Might have to stick around just long enough to fuck Keita one more time before he goes back to Japan.
Sunscreen squelches out of Keita with each thrust and the way his hole stretches around Matthew’s length, swollen pink rim gaping wide every time Matthew pulls out and thrusts back in, is ridiculously addictive. Matthew burns the visual into his brain. Saves it for a day when he’ll have nothing but himself and his right hand for company. (Maybe when he’s fifty again and Taerae is still telling him to get the fuck up, Seok.)
“Not gonna last,” Matthew admits, not when Keita’s so warm and wet and squeezes him so damn tight with each thrust, walls rippling around his cock.
Keita grins. Teeth bared. All bite and no bark. “You do know that even if you cum, we’re not stopping until I finish, right?” He clenches down again, a match flung straight into the flame burning in the bottom of Matthew’s gut. Fuck, he’s so mean, and so fucking fine, and Matthew might genuinely die if they never hook up again. “You can just stand there and be a good dildo until I cum too.”
The idea makes Matthew’s hips speed up, erratic jerks pounding Keita’s prostate and making a slew of moans drip from Keita’s dirty dirty mouth. He tries to move his hand from where it’s locked round Keita’s dick, to give him a few good hard strokes to propel him closer to completion too, but Keita bats his hand away. The thought of him finishing untouched has Matthew’s entire body stuttering forward, ramming Keita against the wall until the entire shack trembles like a leaf in the wind.
“Bold of you to assume I won’t be able to keep up,” Matthew pants.
Keita’s smirk widens. “You can try,” he teases, so mocking, so fucking mean. Matthew cums on the spot.
🏖
Keita’s hole gapes wide when Matthew finally pulls out—when he finally lets Matthew pull out—rim swollen and pink and stretched wide enough for Matthew to slip three fingers inside without any resistance. Sunscreen and cum drips out of him, staining the floor of the shack. “I can find you a tissue or something,” Matthew offers, but Keita silences him with a kiss.
“Don’t you want me walking around with your cum dripping out of me all day?” he says, a wicked glint in his eye as he tugs up his pants and underwear, and holy shit Matthew would instantly be at full mast again—if he had anything left in him. He’s cum three times already and true to his word, Keita hadn’t even paused, even getting Matthew on one of the backroom boards and riding him within an inch of his life when Matthew’s legs finally gave out.
If you want me to stop, you can always beg me like a good boy, he’d said, that evil spark glittering in his gaze, and that had basically sealed Matthew’s fate. His dick may be permanently broken now (RIP, death by snu-snu, do not resuscitate), but he has absolutely zero regrets. There’s also a stain on his shirt from where Keita finished untouched over both their stomachs, but again, zero regrets.
“You’re really good at this,” Keita praises. His hair’s a mess, lips kiss-bitten, cheeks still flushed, and there’s no other way to explain what they’ve obviously been doing. Matthew’s sure he doesn’t look much better, especially when he thinks of his cum slowly leaking out of Keita’s gaping asshole and starts panting all over again. (Get the fuck up, Seok, his inner Taerae chastises. You try having the best sex of your life and ever getting up again, inner Matthew whines back.)
Matthew blinks. “What, at sex?”
“No, figure skating. Of course I mean sex.” Keita smiles. A little softer than the razor-sharp smirks he’s been lobbing at Matthew for the past hour. “It was—really good. Haven’t cum this hard in a really long time.” His legs tremble ever so slightly as he steps back into his flip-flops. Matthew’s chest swells with pride.
He puffs up his pectorals, flashing Keita a cocky little grin. “Of course! Gave you the Seok Special and everything, you know, dick so good that—”
Keita nips at his neck and Matthew’s words trail off in a broken little moan. “I’ll make you cum even harder when I fuck you next time.”
“There’s a next time?” Matthew almost hates how eager he sounds, a shade too desperate for his liking, but he’s beyond embarrassment at this point.
“Of course there’s a next time. I’ve got two weeks left here and I still haven’t been inside you yet.” Keita hesitates, suddenly looking a little bashful. “Only if you want to, of course.”
“Of course I want to!” Matthew practically shouts, before cringing at himself. “I mean—yeah, I’d love to, like, in a super nonchalant way, you know.”
Keita laughs. “Babe, there is nothing nonchalant about you.”
Babe. The pet name shouldn’t make Matthew’s heart flutter a little. It does.
There’s a guy perched behind the counter of the rental shack when they stagger out of the backroom on wobbly legs, arms folded over his chest. He’s honestly pretty cute, with a jawline that could cut through steel and what Matthew just knows is a sleeper build beneath his loose Hawaiian shirt. Not really Matthew’s type, but definitely the type of guy that Taerae would instantly drop to his knees for. The sheepish glance Keita gives him lets Matthew know that this is the aforementioned friend.
“Everyone could hear you two,” the guy complains, standing up and heading over to the Closed sign to flip it around. “You probably scared away at least thirty customers. I’ve got a business to run, you know!”
“And I had dick to get, Hanbin,” Keita retorts. “Besides, you heard us fucking and still decided to stay, you freaking voyeur.”
“I didn’t trust you not to create an earthquake or something! The walls were shaking!” Hanbin argues back. (Matthew shouldn’t feel proud at that. He shouldn’t.) He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. Taerae loves men who do that. Matthew really needs to get this guy’s number after so he can set them up. “I am never leaving you in charge ever again.”
“Probably for the best,” Keita laughs.
For the first time, Hanbin grins. Dimples flash in his cheeks as he turns to Matthew. “Watch out for that one. He’ll eat you alive.”
And I look forward to it, Matthew thinks giddily as he steps out into the sunshine. Keita’s hand has found its way into his own. He doesn’t let go.