He was salty with sweat and the sea, the taste of him sharp on my tongue. I didn't tease, didn't draw it out. This wasn't about savoring. This was about claiming what was mine before anyone else could see it. I worked him fast and efficiently, my free hand wrapped around the base, my mouth tight and wet around the rest.
His tongue slid against my knuckles and a muffled moan vibrated down my fingers. Red's hand found my hair. His grip was too tight, almost painful, and I liked it. I liked knowing he was barely holding on, that he was sucking on my fingers to keep from making sounds that would bring people running.
His hips tried to jerk forward, and I pinned them against the pole with my elbow, holding him still while I took him deeper. He made a noise around my fingers, his teeth pressing down hard enough to hurt, and his thighs started to shake.
It didn't take long. He was too keyed up, had been on edge for hours, and I knew exactly how to take him apart. I swallowed around him and pressed my tongue against the underside of his cock, and his whole body went rigid.
He came with my fingers shoved deep in his mouth, his jaw clenched tight around them, every sound trapped behind his teeth. I swallowed everything he gave me, worked him through it until he was shaking and oversensitive, until his hand loosened in my hair and his head fell back against the pole.
I pulled off and slid my fingers from his mouth. They were wet with spit, the skin flushed where he'd bitten down. I wiped them on my thigh without looking away from his face.
Red's knees buckled. He slid down the pole until he was sitting in the sand, his briefs still shoved down his thighs, his chest heaving.
"Jesus Christ," he managed.
I was already reaching for the tape.
"Hold still." I got to work while he was still soft, still trembling with aftershocks, taping him down with quick, efficient movements. Then I pulled his briefs back up and smoothed the waistband into place. "There. Now nothing's going anywhere."
Red stared at me. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed, his hair wrecked from where he'd been pressing his head against the pole.
"You just—" He stopped. Swallowed. "We have to go back out there and pretend that didn't happen."
"Yes." I stood and brushed the sand off my knees. My own cock was hard, pressing against the tape I'd applied earlier, but that was a problem for later. "Can you do that?"
He laughed, breathless and a little wild. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice." I picked up his robe and held it out to him. "You just keep choosing me."
He took the robe and stood, his legs unsteady. The post-orgasm haze was clearing from his eyes, replaced by something sharper.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I keep doing that."
He walked past me toward the light. I followed, the taste of him on my tongue, and we went back to pretending we were strangers.
The rest of the shoot was easier.
Red moved differently now, looser in his skin. Diana kept making approving sounds behind her camera. She probably thought he'd finally relaxed into the work.
We did the water shots as the sun sank toward the horizon, waist-deep in the surf, waves breaking around us. I steadied Red when a wave knocked him off balance, my hand on his hip, and he leaned into the touch for half a second before remembering where we were.
The light went gold, then orange, then started to fade.
"That's a wrap," Diana finally called.
Crew members started breaking down equipment. Someone handed me a towel, and I dried off, watching Red do the same twenty feet away. He was talking to Diana, nodding at something she said, and he looked like a professional. He looked like he belonged here.
Red laughed at something Diana said. The sound carried across the sand. He laughed like no one was watching, and I wanted to keep hearing that sound. The want was specific and inconvenient.
I thought about him going back to his hotel. Some chain near the airport, probably. He'd order room service and watch TV and text me from a bed that wasn't mine, and I'd be fifteen minutes away in a house I'd rented for the week, alone.
The thought was intolerable.
"Robert." I crossed the sand before I'd decided to move. Diana glanced at me, smiled, and made some excuse about checking the equipment.
Red watched her go, then looked at me. His eyes flicked past my shoulder, tracking the crew members still moving around us.
"Walk with me," I said. "Toward the water."
