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The air is still warm from the day, salt clinging to their skin, the laughter from the games still lingers faintly outside, muffled by distance and the closed door. Inside the room, it’s just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of waves folding into the shore.
Gawin is the first to move, kicking off his shoes near the bed, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to shake off the night.
“‘Can I cuddle with you tonight, please?’” Joss repeats from behind him, voice low, amused.
Gawin doesn’t turn around. “You were the one who started it.”
“And you didn’t mind, right?”
That makes Gawin glance back.
Joss is leaning against the door, arms crossed loosely, watching him in a way that feels… different from earlier. There’s still a trace of that tipsy softness in his eyes, but underneath it is something steady. Familiar. Dangerous.
“We’re in the same room,” Gawin points out, quieter now. “You didn’t have to make me shout it in front of everyone.”
Joss pushes himself off the door and walks closer, unhurried. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Gawin huffs a laugh, but it fades too quickly when Joss stops right in front of him.
“And you,” Gawin says, trying to recover, “were supposed to say I’m better at basketball.”
Joss smiles—slow, unapologetic. “I said something better.”
“You said something reckless.”
“I said the truth.”
The words land between them, heavier than they should be for something they’ve both said a hundred times in private.
But never like that. Never where it could be heard.
Gawin searches his face, like he’s trying to figure out how much of tonight was the alcohol and how much was… this.
“Joss—”
“I really wanna cuddle with you tonight, G” Joss said, his eyes dark with desire. “And I wanna do more than just cuddling if you allow me to” Joss adds.
The air shifts again, that same quiet tension stretching tighter, pulling them closer without either of them moving much.
Then Joss reaches out, fingers brushing against Gawin’s side, slipping just enough under the hem of his shirt to feel warm skin.
“Am I allowed to?” Joss murmurs.
Gawin exhales slowly, eyes dropping for a second before lifting back up. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Joss leans in, just slightly, enough that Gawin can feel his breath now—warm, steady, real.
“We’re alone now, let’s have some fun” Joss adds.
Gawin’s heartbeat stumbles over itself, but he doesn’t step back.
“But we have to wake up early tomorrow, you should behave,” he says, though there’s no conviction left in it.
Joss huffs a quiet laugh. “You don’t want me to.”
And that’s the truth neither of them says out loud.
It shows instead—in the way Gawin’s hand catches lightly on Joss’s wrist when he tries to pull away, in the way neither of them creates any real distance.
In the way “cuddling” was never going to stay innocent.
*******
The fabric of Joss’s shirt bunches under Gawin’s fingers, a silent surrender that speaks louder than any of the playful bickering they’d done on camera.
Joss doesn't pull away. Instead, he turns his hand within Gawin’s grip, interlocking their fingers and stepping into the remaining sliver of space until their chests brush. The low hum of the AC seems to fade, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thrum of two hearts trying to find the same beat.
“Early morning or not,” Joss murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating right against Gawin’s lips. “I’m not spending our last night in paradise behaving.”
He uses their joined hands to pull Gawin flush against him. The heat is immediate—a sharp contrast to the salt-cool air from the balcony. Joss’s free hand wanders, tracing the line of Gawin’s jaw before sliding back to cup the nape of his neck, thumb grazing the sensitive skin behind his ear.
Gawin lets out a shaky breath, his head tilting back instinctively. “Everyone’s going to notice tomorrow,” he whispers, a final, weak attempt at logic.
“Let them” Joss replies, his gaze dropping to Gawin’s mouth, dark and focused. “I’m tired of being careful, G. Aren't you?”
Gawin doesn’t answer with words. He closes the distance, his mouth crashing against Joss’s in a kiss that tastes like lingering cocktails and desperation. It’s not the soft, hesitant contact of their "cuddling" scripts—it’s hungry, demanding, and far too long in the making.
Joss groans into the kiss, his grip tightening on Gawin’s waist as he backs him toward the edge of the bed. The mattress hits the back of Gawin’s knees, and for a moment, the world is just the sound of the tide outside and the frantic pull of clothes being tugged out of hems.
The friction between them was a slow burn that had finally caught fire. Joss’s hands were everywhere—mapping the curve of Gawin’s ribs, sliding firm and possessive over his hips—until the friction of the bedsheets felt too restrictive, too soft for the hunger sparking between them.
Joss pulled back for a second, his chest heaving, his eyes scanning Gawin’s flushed face and swollen lips. A devastating, dark smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"The bed is too quiet, G," Joss rasped, his voice thick and dropping to a gravelly low. He leaned down, biting gently at the shell of Gawin’s ear before whispering, "I’ve been thinking about you in that outdoor shower since we checked in. The marble... the water. I want to see you under those lights."
Gawin’s breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that was practically a dare. "Joss, we don’t have to—"
"We have all night," Joss interrupted, already moving, his hands hooking under Gawin’s arms to haul him up.
They stumbled toward the bathroom, a mess of tangled limbs and desperate, open-mouthed kisses that didn't break even as they crossed the threshold. The cool touch of the vanity marble against Gawin’s back was a shock to his system, a sharp contrast to the searing heat of Joss’s palms sliding up his thighs.
Joss didn't give him a chance to adjust. He stepped between Gawin’s legs, pressing him firmly against the stone, his hands reaching back to turn the heavy brass handle of the shower. The sound of water hitting the tiles echoed off the walls, a rhythmic, splashing roar that drowned out the rest of the world.
"You look beautiful like this," Joss murmured, his gaze traveling over Gawin as the steam began to rise, curling around them like a shroud.
He didn't wait for the water to warm. He pulled Gawin under the spray, the spray soaking through the thin fabric of their remaining clothes until they were transparent, clinging to every muscle and curve. Joss’s touch became more frantic, his fingers digging into Gawin’s waist as he lifted him slightly, seeking a deeper, more punishing connection.
The slickness of the water made every slide of skin feel electric. Gawin wrapped his arms around Joss’s neck, his head falling back as Joss found a particularly sensitive spot on his throat, marking him with a possessiveness that wouldn't be easy to hide tomorrow.
"Joss..." Gawin’s voice was a broken thread, half-moan and half-plea, lost to the steam and the relentless spray of the water.
"I've got you," Joss promised, his grip tightening, his movements turning rhythmic and demanding as he pressed Gawin further into the wall, ensuring there wasn't an inch of space left between them.
In the heat of the bathroom, with the scent of expensive soap and salt-heavy skin, the "fun" they had joked about earlier had turned into something raw, primal, and utterly inescapable.