[Conduct Unbecoming 01.0] Conduct Unbecoming

by LA Witt

  Some of the fish scattered, but others stuck around, watching us curiously. I suspected other swimmers fed them, encouraging them to come up to people. Pity we hadn’t brought any food for them. Though, knowing Shane, he’d probably try to feed his finger to something with sharp teeth before the day was over. After snorkeling with him a few times, I was truly mystified that the man still had ten fingers.

  Since Komaka was out in the open water instead of sheltered like some of the coves and inlets where we’d snorkeled before, the current was substantially stronger. With our fins on, though, we didn’t have too much trouble swimming against it.

  The water was six to eight feet deep in places, but some of the rocks and parts of the reef were big enough they almost broke the surface. We swam between the rocks, checking out the sea urchins, anemones, coral and fish that made their home here. Yellow, black and white angelfish nibbled at some unseen food source on the rocks. Electric-blue fish that were anywhere from an inch long to the length of my finger darted into crevices and under outcroppings, watching us warily. Larger fish, some as long as my forearm, kept a careful distance but didn’t scurry away. I hadn’t even seen some of these critters before. Some were dull gray. Some were speckled to camouflage them against the sandy sea floor. Others ranged from fluorescent yellow to deep purple, with all kinds of patterns in between.

  The sea floor was mostly rippled sand instead of some of the rockier areas where we’d swum before. There were clusters of rocks of varying sizes, but if we needed to put a foot down in one of the shallower areas, we didn’t have to worry too much about landing on a stonefish, which was yet another creature existing here specifically to make snorkeling dangerous. They were nearly impossible to see in some places but wouldn’t blend into this smooth, white sand.

  Humans, one. Stonefish, zero.

  This time.

  Shane tapped my arm. When I turned my head, he gestured down at the sea floor. I looked where he’d indicated. A thick belt of white-speckled brown wove between the rocks. I was about to lift my head out of the water to ask him what it was, but then it slithered into a crevice and turned around. When its head poked out, staring up at us with huge, round eyes and opening its jaws to reveal its sharp teeth, I realized it was a moray eel. A pretty good-sized one too. Easily four feet in length, with a mouth that could seriously fuck up someone’s hand.

  Shane started taking off his glove, and I eyed him. He looked at me, grinning around his snorkel. Jesus. Even underwater and through our diving masks, his devilish eyes did crazy things to me.

  He gestured at the camera in my hand. I gave him a thumbs-up. Then he took a deep breath and dove down toward the eel. It balked, but when he waved his glove near the crevice, the eel lunged for it before recoiling into its hiding place. Again it snapped and recoiled.

  After a few seconds of teasing the irritated creature, Shane swam up. He surfaced and cleared his snorkel. With his face underwater again, he gestured at the camera, gave a thumbs-up, and raised his eyebrows under his mask, an unspoken did you get a good picture?

  I nodded and returned the thumbs-up. He came back with this thumb and forefinger in a circle, then pulled his glove back on. Crazy SOB.

  I popped my head out of the water and glanced back at the beach to see how far we’d gone. We both did that whenever we snorkeled--every few minutes, we’d double-check just to make sure the current hadn’t carried us too far from shore. Satisfied we were close enough, I ducked back under the water.

  We left the eel to its hiding place, though it watched us warily as we swam past it. A school of tiny yellow fish caught our attention, and we followed it between some rocks, around another and behind a jagged reef. The sea floor dropped a few feet here, and in the deeper water, we found bigger fish that were no more afraid of us than the ones closer to shore.

  I was about to look up to orient myself to the shore again, but Shane broke the surface first. He came back down and gave another “okay” gesture, so I continued swimming.

  On one side of the reef, we found dozens of enormous, menacing-looking sea urchins. These weren’t colorful little pincushion urchins that could sit in the palm of a gloved hand. Their thin, black spines were easily eight to ten inches long. We’d seen them before whenever we’d snorkeled, but this was the first time we were able to get up close and personal with them. Not that I wanted to get up close and personal with such a thing, but Shane—surprise, surprise—did.

  The body was like a black golf ball with these weird little blue, black and orange buds sticking out between the bases of the spines. Maybe my inner nerd was showing, but I swore the buds looked like the Eye of Sauron or something. Strange things.

  And, naturally, Shane liked to play with them. He held his hand less than an inch from the end of one urchin’s spines, and—

  Oh, my God, that was creepy as fuck. The spines near his hand moved. Not because the motion of his hand had disturbed the water. This was a deliberate motion, several spines moving so they pointed directly at his palm. As far as I knew, sea urchins weren’t sentient creatures, but one way or another, this one responded to him. When he moved his hand again, the fucking spines followed like the damned thing was tracking him.

  So. Weird.

  He gestured for me to do the same. Creepy as it was, I couldn’t resist. I grabbed on to a rock to brace myself so the current wouldn’t make me get too intimately acquainted with the urchin. Then I held my free hand over the ends of the spines, and just as they had with Shane, they moved, bunching together to concentrate their pointy efforts on my palm in case I came any closer. And the little blue-and-orange, evil eye-bud thing? It moved too.

  I glanced at Shane. He grinned around his snorkel again, and I just shook my head. I’d have laughed, but I’d learned on my first excursion with Shane that laughing was a quick and easy way to spit out one’s snorkel. Nothing quite like swimming with a comedian.

  A flash of silver caught my eye, and I turned my head.

  The long, slender fish cruising just below the surface made my heart skip. It was facing away from me, but its shape was almost unmistakable. I knew there were barracuda out here, and I’d heard even the smaller ones—this one was maybe three feet long—could be dangerously aggressive.

  With a sweep of its tail, its whole body turned, revealing its head in profile, and I relaxed. A little. The fish had a thin snout, kind of like a crocodile, instead of the more blunt, salmon-like head of a barracuda. Just a gar, then. They could be aggressive as all hell, too, but to my knowledge, weren’t quite as dangerous as barracuda.

  I tapped Shane’s shoulder. When he took his attention from the creepy Sauron urchin and looked my way, I pointed toward the gar. He turned, then nodded to acknowledge he’d seen it before we both swam in the opposite direction. Better to just stay out of its way. Even Shane didn’t mess with things like that, which made me even more inclined to keep an eye on it. Well, when I wasn’t playing with another sea urchin. Which I only did because Shane suggested I should try it. Not because I actually found it amusing or anything.

  Eventually, the creepy urchin novelty wore off, the gar swam away, and my arms and legs were getting tired. I tapped Shane’s shoulder and gestured toward the shore. He nodded, and we both swam back to the beach.

  The tide had gone out a little more, so some of the rocks we’d swum between were now exposed. I sat on one, tugged off my mask and snorkel and hung them on my elbow so I could take off my fins.

  Shane sat beside me. “What’d I tell you?” he asked. “This place is incredible.”

  “You’re right.” I set one fin on the rock and reached for the other. “But must you always mess with the dangerous creatures?”

  Shane laughed as he peeled off his glove. “Morays aren’t dangerous. I mean, as long as I keep my hands out of their mouths.”

  I reached toward him and wiggled my fingers in his face. “That is a good way to get a hand in its mouth, Shane.”

  He snapped his teeth, narrowly missing m
y hand, and laughed when I drew it back. “Yes, and that’s why I was waving my glove at it, not my actual fingers.”

  “Okay, but if you’d pissed it off enough, and it had bitten you, you’d have been in a world of hurt.”

  He shrugged and ran his fingers through his wet, disheveled hair. “Which is why I didn’t let it bite me.”

  I stood, picking up my fins, and eyed him. “You do know those things don’t let go, right?”

  “No, they don’t.” He picked up his gear and stood too. “Have to be pried off.”

  “Just so you know,” I said over my shoulder as I started toward the shore, “if it had bitten you, you’d have worn it home.”

  “What?” He scoffed. “You wouldn’t even try to take it off?”

  “Nope.” I glanced back. “Figure it would be a good lesson for you.”

  “Hey, at least I didn’t mess with the gar.”

  “Well, maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  We both laughed and continued across the rocks to the hot sand. We dropped our wet gear beside the cooler. I pulled my sunglasses, a beach towel and the bottle of sunscreen out of my backpack. I laid the towel on the sand and sat on it to put some more sunscreen on my arms and legs.

  Duly screened against the sun, I handed the bottle off to Shane and lay back on my towel. Sunglasses on, I lounged with my fingers laced together behind my head. Ah, this was paradise.

  “Dude, Okinawa is a fucking shit-hole.”

  Yeah, okay. Whatever, dude.

  “Feel like eating anything yet?” Shane asked.

  “Nah, I’m good for now. I might get back in the water in a little bit anyway.” I paused and sat up. “Should probably drink something, though.”

  “Good idea.” He took a couple of water bottles from the cooler and handed me one.

  Funny thing about snorkeling-I never knew how thirsty I was until I took that first sip of water. One taste of something other than seawater, and I finished off three-quarters of the bottle before I came up for air. Much better, especially since it rinsed out most of the taste of the ocean.

  Once I’d finished it completely, I handed the empty water bottle back to Shane, and he dropped it into the cooler with his own.

  I lay back on the towel again. Shane stayed upright and reached back to unzip his wet suit. He stripped partway, letting the upper half of his suit hang around his waist, and sat on a towel beside mine. He rested his forearms on his knees and looked out at the water. And me? I had the perfect view and the dark glasses to hide the fact that I was staring.

  Stray droplets of water sparkled in the sun on the ends of his hair, the back of his neck, and along his arm. Even when they were relaxed, his muscles were well-defined, just begging me to run my fingers along the grooves and contours. And the slight bow of his back as he leaned forward reminded me of how he looked when I—

  Easy there, Randall. I cleared my throat and shifted my gaze away before I stared too long and my wet suit gave me away. Too late for that, I realized, and casually sat up again so he wouldn’t notice.

  Oblivious to my thoughts about him, he looked at me. His gaze drifted down my arm, and a hint of a smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to keep that thing on, you know.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I should take it off?”

  He shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, I was just suggesting you didn’t have to leave it all the way on.” He gestured at his own suit around his waist. “But, I mean, if you want to take it all off, don’t let me stop you.”

  “Ah-ha. I knew it.” I looked at him over my sunglasses. “You’re just trying to get me out of my clothes.”

  “Maybe I am.” He leaned toward me, resting his hand behind me on the towel. “What are you going to do about it?”

  I leaned closer so our lips almost touched. “Who said I wanted to do anything about it?”

  “Just checking.” His other hand brushed the side of my face, and the resulting shiver made me pull in a sharp breath, which drew our lips together.

  His hand went from my face to my neck, then down the front of my suit, and my abs contracted under his touch. “I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this,” he murmured, “but you drive me insane when you wear this thing.”

  “You don’t look so bad in one yourself.”

  His lips curved into a grin. “Should I put it back on, then?”

  “Oh no. Don’t do that.” I slid my hand over his shoulder and down his arm. His skin was hot to the touch, which made me even more aware of the layer of Lycra separating his palm from my abs. “In fact, maybe I’m overdressed.”

  “I agree.”

  We separated, and I sat up on my knees.

  “Need a hand?” he asked.

  “I’m not going to turn it away.”

  ”Didn’t figure you would.”

  Shane knelt behind me. He unzipped the back of my wet suit. The sun’s heat met my newly exposed skin, but only for a second before he put his arms around me. His skin touched mine, and his lips brushed the side of my neck. I bit my lip and tilted my head back so he could explore more of my neck. We both made a halfhearted effort to get my suit over my shoulders and down my arms, but he was too interested in kissing behind my ear, and I was too distracted by his lips on my skin.

  I groaned softly. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable a hard-on is in a wet suit?”

  “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” Shane’s hands slid over my hips, and he pulled me back against him so I could feel how aroused he was. “Ever had sex on the beach?”

  I licked my lips. “Ask me again in an hour, and I’ll say yes.”

  “An hour?” His quiet laugh cooled my skin. “Oh, Eric, you’ll be lucky if I get through the next few minutes without being inside you.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we brought condoms, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” He nipped my earlobe. “Why don’t you get out of that suit, and I’ll get a condom on?” He kissed the base of my neck and added, “Because I am so goddamned desperate to fuck you right now…”

  Words. Lost on me. The best I could do was a nod, and he got the message.

  We both got up and peeled off our wet suits, careful to keep sand off the towel and our hands. Whatever inhibitions I might have had were gone from the moment he’d kissed my neck, and I didn’t know the meaning of nerves now. We were as out in the open and exposed as we could be, but there was no one else here. A broad expanse of water separated us from anyone who might give a damn about us, and with every touch, I lost my ability to give a damn about the consequences. I wanted him so bad I couldn’t see straight now, and every move we made took us closer to the gratification of that first stroke.

  My mouth watered as Shane stroked lube onto the condom. His hand stopped, and he took and held a deep breath like he needed a moment just to calm himself down. Then, slowly, he exhaled, and our eyes met. With a nod, he indicated the towel I’d been sitting on a moment before.

  “On my knees?” I asked.

  He nodded again. I thought he’d have some witty or dirty comment, but maybe he was as tongue-tied as I was just then.

  I got on my hands and knees. When the sand shifted behind me, I closed my eyes, and Shane’s hand materialized on my side. With lubed fingers, he teased my entrance, and the coolness as well as the contact and anticipation made me light-headed.

  His fingers lifted away, and a second later, his cock took their place.

  “I guess now,” he said, almost growling as he pressed into me, “you can say you’ve had sex on the beach.”

  I supposed he was right, but at the moment, I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think. I was lucky I could breathe as he pushed deeper inside me. As much as he liked to tease me until I was begging him to fuck me hard, he didn’t this time. His first few strokes were slow and easy, but once he was moving comfortably with no friction or resistance, he didn’t hold back.

  “Like that?” he asked, his voice
taut.

  “Ooh, yeah. God, Shane, don’t…don’t stop.”

  “Why would I stop?” He groaned softly. “You feel too fucking good to stop.”

  I screwed my eyes shut and clawed at the towel beneath me. I didn’t want to come yet, not until I was inside him, but the way he fucked me felt too damned good.

  To hell with it. I’d get my chance to fuck him. Right here, right now, on this beach with Shane driving his cock into me so hard my eyes watered, I had to come.

  I shifted my weight to one arm, and I had just enough presence of mind make sure there was no sand on my hand before I reached down to stroke my cock.

  “Oh…God…” The words came out as a moan, and Shane must have liked that because he gripped my hips tighter and thrust harder.

  “Jesus Christ, you feel amazing,” he said, probably through clenched teeth. “And you look…oh, my God, Eric…”

  “Fuck me harder.” I almost choked on the words, but before I could repeat them in case he hadn’t heard, he slammed his cock deep inside me, and all that left my lips was a soft, helpless moan. My arm shook too much to hold me up, and I dropped onto my forearm. Still stroking my cock with my other hand, I rocked back against him, desperate for everything he could give me.

  Shane groaned, slamming into me again and again, and every time I tried to inhale, he knocked the air right out of my lungs. The world spun around me. The sand shifted under me whenever I tried to move with him. Then my eyes rolled back. Electricity shot up my spine. My rhythm fell apart, but I kept stroking anyway, even as I cried out a string of curses, then whimpered, then shattered. I managed a few final strokes before the touch of my semen-slicked palm was too intense, and when I stopped my hand, I shuddered once more and released my breath.

  Seconds later, with a roar that people on Okinawa and Kudaka probably heard, Shane pulled my hips against him and forced himself as deep as he could go. Then he slumped over me, and when his lips touched the back of my shoulder, I was stunned that my skin didn’t sizzle.