Chapter Text
Jonny’s gotten gold from the sun in the few days since they arrived, unlike Patrick who just burns and has to apply a million layers of SPF 50 and hangout under a beach umbrella for long stretches. Jonny trudges up the beach, surfboard under his arm, paler flesh revealed with water weighing his trunks down low on his hips.
He’s covered in bruises. Learning to surf isn’t going so smoothly, but it’s Jonny and he keeps trying, somehow unbothered by the many chirps he’s getting from the other guys. He looks good anyway, healthy muscle, forearms corded with veins. Patrick has to look away.
Hawaii, might be Jonny’s new favorite place, fresh fish with every meal, tons of sunshine, Patrick isn’t really paying attention, but from what the other guys are saying he’s hooking up a lot, with the local girls, with the other guests at the resort. Patrick kind of hates him.
"You almost didn’t completely embarrass yourself there," Biscuit tells him, saluting him with his bottle of beer.
"Yeah, yeah," Jonny says, sticking his board in the sand. He’s been wearing this friendship bracelet that a girl at a hospital they visited had made him, and the sight of it, water-logged and dark against Jonny’s strong wrist—well, it’s funny how the little things make it too much.
Patrick clears his throat and excuses himself. “Been out in the sun too long,” he says when the other guys groan and protest at him. It’s not a lie, he can feel the skin across the bridge of his nose pulling tight when he smiles, the sure sign of the beginnings of a burn.
"Shut up," he tells them, "I’ll see you at dinner."
He ignores Jonny’s dark eyes.
They rented a set of beachfront villas for team. Most of the guys are doubled up, Jonny’s with both Duncs and Seabs, but Patrick’s got his own thankfully. He just needs to take a moment, a cold shower maybe. He’ll be fine in the evening.
The little garden path, heavily studded with palm trees, birds of paradise, and hibiscus creates a dense canopy against the sun, a little windbreak against the sound of the surf.
He thinks he imagines it when he hears Jonny call his name, but when it comes again, he turns around and finds Jonny jogging after him.
He stops in the shade of the palms, squinting at him. “What?”
Jonny slows to a stop and shakes his head. He pauses for a moment and then says, “Why do you always look at me like that?”
"Like what?" Patrick replies, a little louder than he mean to.
Jonny bites his lip and shrugs.
Patrick turns away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
Jonny makes a frustrated noise and then thrusts him up against the side of his villa. He smells of ocean and coconut and sunscreen and when he steps in close, cool flesh and wet bathing suit meeting Patrick’s sun-warmed overheated skin, Patrick shivers, mouth opening on a gasp. Jonny ducks in before he can ask ‘what the fuck?’ and tilts his chin right into a kiss.
"Fuck," Patrick says when Jonny backs off a little. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip tasting salt and the vague hint of mint from the gum Jonny always chews.
Jonny makes a sound in the back of his throat, grinding in closer, thumb pushing at the corner of his mouth to open Patrick up for his tongue. Patrick’s trapped, wet all down his front, water from Jonny’s trunks running down his own legs.
Jonny’s hot and hard against his hip and Patrick uses his back to push off the wall to get closer to Jonny as much as possible, to thrust against that erection while Jonny kisses him slow and sweet. The slick sounds of their mouths meeting and their harsh breaths are the only noise over the waves. Jonny pushes him back into the wall, palm over his heart, and slides a leg between Patrick’s so that he’s riding his thigh. Patrick whines high in his throat, fingers curling in Jonny’s swimsuit, digging into the strong muscle of his ass.
Jonny pushes in closer, forcing Patrick up onto his tiptoes, when his knee meets the wall between Patrick's legs, lifting him higher onto his thigh.
He moans, turns his face into Jonny’s neck.
"Yeah," Jonny breathes, "just like that."
He takes Patrick apart right there, pressed up against the side of the villa, speared in place by sticky kisses and the pressure of his thigh, whispering filth and encouragement. He backs off, muttering expletives, pressing their foreheads together when Patrick finally works his hands beneath the waistband of his trunks, squeezing and pulling Jonny up and into him.
Patrick comes like that, a shuddery mess, with Jonny dragging the tip of his nose over Patrick’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw.
Jonny gives him a moment, before straightening his leg and leaning away, letting Patrick sink back down, feet flat on the ground.
Patrick stares at him, a little amazed, covered in goosebumps from the shock of Jonny’s wet skin.
He looks at the obscene press of Jonny’s trunks plastered to his erection and makes a high-pitched strangled sound in his throat. He wants to go back inside the cool dark interior of the villa and let Jonny work that dick inside him. He wants all the weight of Jonny’s body on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, pounding him until he breaks and says every stupid thing he’s held in for so long. There’s a blood-dark bruise just above Jonny’s hip from where he took a tumble on the surfboard, and Patrick wants to close his grip on it and make Jonny tremble. He wants to fuck Jonny up, so that he’s as spun around as Patrick always is.
Jonny’s flushed all down his chest. He chews at his lower lip. “You wanna?” he asks with a bit of a grin.
Patrick thunks his head back against the wall. He laughs. “Yeah.”