Brian Hansen grips Brad Patton’s hips hard as he pins him against the deck, sunlight flashing off the water between them, while Patton’s tongue forces its way past his teeth, no gentleness, just the press of lips and the way his fingers dig into Hansen’s shoulders. The boat’s sway doesn’t slow them down; if anything, it makes the kiss deeper, the touch more urgent as one hand slides down to grip the waistband of Patton’s shorts, fingers already working the zipper open. The air smells of salt and sweat, and the only sound is the wet sound of lips and the sharp inhale when Patton’s breath catches.
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