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Wave has a problem. Well, Lava says it is a problem, but Wave prefers to call it optimal positioning.
It starts innocently enough. They are tangled together on Lava’s leather couch after a particularly long and enthusiastic make-out session. Wave’s thighs are bracketing Lava’s hips, and he can feel the solid heat radiating through the denim of their jeans.
The room is quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the sound of their ragged breathing.
Lava pulls back with kiss-swollen lips. His eyes are dark, heavy and focused entirely on the flush creeping up Wave’s neck. He says, “You know we have an entire couch, right?”
Wave rocks forward slightly. It is a slow and deliberate movement. He watches Lava’s jaw go tight and his throat bob in a hard swallow. “This spot is taken,” Wave murmurs against his skin.
“By you,” Lava counters. He sounds breathless and slightly dazed. “Right on top of me.”
“Exactly.” Wave grins, triumphant. He grinds down just enough to feel Lava’s breathing stutter and his hands tighten on his waist. He kisses him again before Lava can form a coherent argument.
The thing is, Lava’s lap is perfect. It is the ideal combination of solid and comfortable, warm and secure and dangerous. It is dangerous in the specific way that Lava’s hands always find his waist automatically, seeking purchase even when they are not touching.
And it is dangerous because Wave can feel every reaction before Lava can school his expression into something controlled. He can feel the way Lava’s muscles bunch beneath him, the way his pulse thrums against Wave’s own skin, and the silent, desperate fight Lava puts up to remain composed.
Wave fits there like Lava was designed specifically as his personal chair. And once he’s made this discovery, he sees no reason to sit anywhere else. Ever. The rest of the couch is just furniture, but Lava is a destination.
“Wave.” Lava’s voice carries a warning edge, but Wave pays it no mind as he ignores the warning and plops directly onto Lava’s lap at their usual beach bar.
The music is loud and the night air is thick with salt and humidity. The bar is crowded, yet Wave finds his destination immediately. There are three empty stools within arm’s reach, but he leaves them for the tourists.
“Hmm?” Wave settles in. He shifts his weight until he finds the sweet spot. He knows he has found it because of the sharp exhale against the back of his neck and the feeling of Lava’s hands coming up automatically to steady his hips like it’s a reflex, which it is. It’s also possessive and it proves Wave’s point entirely.
“We’re in public.” Lava sounds strained.
“I’m aware, thank you. I can see Tum and Kratae right there.” Wave waves at their friends. They are approaching with matching expressions of fond exasperation. “Hi! Lava’s buying the first round.”
“I am?”
“You are, since you dragged me out when I was very comfortable at home.” Wave leans back against Lava’s chest. He sighs contentedly then shifts his weight back just enough to feel Lava’s sharp intake of breath against his ear. “This is payment.”
Tum slides onto the stool across from them. His eyebrows climb toward his hairline as he looks at the scene. “There’s literally an empty seat right next to him.”
“That’s for my drink,” Wave says. He sounds perfectly reasonable to himself.
Kratae perches beside Tum. She’s grinning wide and teasing. “How long has this been going on?”
“Define ’this,’” Lava mutters, then he loops his arms around Wave’s waist and he holds him in place. His breath is warm against Wave’s ear—and okay, Wave arches back into him slightly. It is just a little movement. Barely noticeable. Lava notices anyway that his grip tightens and his fingers press into the soft skin just above Wave’s hipbones.
“You’re trouble,” he says. The words are low enough for only Wave to hear.
“You love it,” Wave murmurs back.
The sound Lava makes is somewhere between a groan and a laugh. It vibrates through his chest and into Wave’s back. “You’re going to kill me.”
“What a way to go.”
It becomes a thing that starts to feel inevitable.
Movie night. Wave sits sideways on Lava’s lap with his legs dangling off the edge and Lava’s arm resting heavily across his thighs. Somewhere in the second act, Lava’s hand migrates under the hem of Wave’s shirt. His thumb traces slow and absent circles against the sensitive skin of Wave’s ribs.
The movie plays on the screen, but Wave is watching none of it. He’s too focused on the heat of Lava’s palm against his skin.
Dinner is worse. Wave perches on Lava’s thighs while stealing bites of food from his plate. Lava keeps pressing his mouth to Wave’s shoulder or the back of his ear or the curve of his jaw, acting like he has forgotten they’re currently in a crowded noodle shop.
The air is thick with the scent of broth and spice, but all Wave can smell is Lava.
Beach day? It’s the worst of all. Wave is straddling Lava’s lap in the shallow water. His arms are wrapped tightly around Lava’s neck as waves lap warm around their waists.
Kratae calls out from her towel on the sand.
“There’s an entire ocean,” she says as she pushes her sunglasses up onto her head and watches them with the expression of someone who has accepted her fate. “You could swim in it.”
Wave doesn’t even pretend to open his eyes. He’s settled on Lava’s lap in the sand and Lava’s chin is hooked over his shoulder comfortably. “We’re appreciating nature.”
“You’re appreciating Lava’s dick.”
“Kratae,” Lava chokes out.
“What? I am not wrong.” She takes a long sip of her drink and looks utterly unbothered. “You two are about thirty seconds away from getting indecent.”
Wave feels the laugh that shakes Lava more than he hears it. The vibration of the pretty sound rumbles through his back. “We’re fully clothed.”
“Barely,” Tum adds without opening his eyes. “Wave’s shorts are illegal.”
They are pretty short, indeed. And the way Wave is sitting makes his thighs spread wide over Lava’s lap, which pushes the fabric further up. His hips are cradled snugly against the center of Lava’s gravity.
Lava’s hand slides up Wave’s bare thigh. It’s ostensibly innocent, but his thumb tracing dangerous and agonizing patterns on the sensitive inner curve suggests otherwise. Wave’s breath catches in his throat.
“See?” Kratae gestures with her drink. “Twenty seconds now.”
“Leave them alone,” Tum says mildly. “They’re young and horny. Remember when we were young and horny?”
“We’re literally the same age as them.”
“Then we should be more understanding.”
Wave tunes them out. He’s far too focused on the way Lava’s other hand has found its way under his shirt, palm flat and hot against the skin of his stomach. It feels like an anchor. Lava’s lips brush against the shell of his ear.
His voice is a low murmur that sends shivers down Wave’s neck. “You’re being obvious.”
“I don’t care.” Wave rolls his hips back experimentally in a slow and teasing motion. He does it just enough to feel the sudden and sharp responding twitch of interest from Lava beneath him. “It’s your fault for being so comfortable.”
“My fault?” Lava sounds amused and frustrated in equal measure.
“Completely,” Wave says. “You should have been bonier. Less attractive. Worse at kissing.”
Lava’s laugh is low and dangerous, effectively sounding like a rumble that Wave feels deep in his own bones. “You want me to be worse at kissing?”
“No,” Wave admits. He tilts his head to the side to give Lava better access to his neck. “Definitely not.”
“I thought so.” Lava’s teeth graze the sensitive skin at the hinge of his jaw. The sensation is sharp and electric. ’We should head home.”
“But we just got here.”
“Wave.”
The rough edge in Lava’s voice sends heat pooling straight down Wave’s spine. He shifts deliberately only to realize something. Apparently, Lava’s shorts are doing nothing to disguise his current state of arousal and Wave’s position on his lap is making the situation considerably worse for both of them.
Wave springs to his feet with a sudden jerk, moving so fast he nearly kicks sand into Tum’s face. “We’re leaving!”
Tum blinks up at him in confusion. “You haven’t even had your drinks yet.”
“We’ll get drinks at home,” Wave says, already focused on the walk to the car as he tugs at Lava’s hand.
“Finally,” Kratae calls after them. Lava hauls Wave toward the parking lot with his hand warm and firm at the small of his back. “You’re welcome for the excuse!”
They make it approximately forty seconds into their room before Wave finds himself pressed hard against the door. The wood is cool against his back, which acts as a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Lava.
Lava’s mouth latches onto his with a hunger that is both demanding and completely unsubtle. It is profoundly raw that Wave makes a sound deep in his throat that he knows he will absolutely deny later.
Wave hooks his legs around Lava’s hips, exactly where he belongs and Lava holds him there with terrifying ease. His hands grip Wave’s thighs hard enough that Wave knows they will leave the memory of fingerprints in their wake.
“This,” Lava gasps between kisses. His lips move against Wave’s skin as he speaks. “This is what you do to me. You do this all day. Every time you sit on my lap in public, I think about this.”
“Yeah?” Wave bites Lava’s lower lip, slowly and deliberately, then he soothes the bite with his tongue as he feels Lava’s breath stutter and hitch in his chest. “Think about taking me to bed?”
“About how I can’t.” Lava carries him toward the bedroom. The movement is effortless and infuriating in a way that does embarrassing things to Wave’s heart rate. Wave clings to his shoulders as he thinks, deliriously so, that this is his favorite mode of transportation. “About how I have to sit there and behave while you squirm around on top of me.”
“So dramatic.”
“You ground down on me in front of Tum and Kratae.”
“That was an accident.”
Lava drops him onto the mattress, following down after him instantly. He pins Wave between his arms and gives him a look of fond disbelief from a very close range. His eyes are dark with a frustration that makes Wave ache. “It was not an accident.”
“It was,” Wave says solemnly. “Mostly an accident.”
“I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“I’m just saying–” The rest of his sentence dies in his throat as Wave’s train of thought derails entirely when Lava’s hands slide under his thighs. The grip is firm and demanding, scorching hot against his skin.
Lava pulls and Wave’s back arches against him. Whatever point Wave was making dissolves entirely, pooling somewhere around the base of his spine as a sharp rush of heat.
Lava kisses him again before he can recover. His mouth moves slower this time, and yet somehow, it’s worse.
Because Lava’s dragging it om purpose. He acts like he has all the time in the world now that they’re not in public and the door is closed. There’s nowhere Wave needs to be except here.
Lava’s mouth languidly moves against Wave’s with a maddening kind of patience. It makes Wave want to claw the intensity out of him. It makes him arch up to chase more. Still, Lava refuses to give it. He keeps it slow and thorough, bracing one hand beside Wave’s head as his other hand slides up Wave’s side. His thumb traces the edge of his ribs through his shirt like he’s in no particular hurry to reach the finish line.
Wave makes a low and frustrated sound into his mouth. It vibrates between their lips.
Lava smiles against the kiss. “Problem?” Lava asks.
“You’re doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?” Lava tips his head to plant a kiss onto the corner of Wave’s mouth. Then he moves down to his jaw, finding the hinge of it. His mouth is open and warm against the skin and Wave’s hands find his hair automatically, bunching the strands between his fingers. “Being comfortable?”
“Being…” Wave tugs at his hair to pull Lava back in, crashing their mouths together. He kisses him the way he actually wants to be kissed—messy and urgent. His hips roll up to close the maddening distance between them. Lava lets him have it for exactly three seconds before he pulls back just enough to breathe, bumping the tip of his nose against Wave’s cheek.
“You know what would be really great right now?” Wave manages to get out through his shallow breathing.
“Hmm?” Lava’s wet mouth finds his throat. His teeth graze his pulse point, sending a jolt of electricity down Wave’s spine. Wave’s grip in his hair tightens. He pulls him closer, needing the contact.
“If I were on your lap,” Wave whispers.
Lava pauses long and suffering, deeply theatrical in Wave’s opinion.
Then Lava rolls onto his back, pulling Wave on top of him. Wave settles over his hips with a low and vindicated sigh.
“There,” Wave says. “Perfect.”
“You’re unbelievable.” Lava’s hands are already running up his thighs and his sides. His thumbs trace the hard line of Wave’s hipbones like they don’t know how to stop. It’s as if they were always going to end up here regardless.
“Absolutely unbelievable.”
“You keep saying that like it is a complaint.” Wave leans down. He brushes his lips against Lava’s. It’s less of a touch and more of a calculated tease and a bit of sweet payback for the deliberate slowness from thirty seconds ago. The heat between them tightens sharply.
Lava’s jaw tightens. “Wave.”
“Yeah?”
Lava’s hands drag up his back and pull him down flush. He kisses him again, deep and devastating, the kind that has no interest in being brief, that takes its time and expects Wave to keep up.
Wave melts into it completely, chest pressed to Lava’s chest, fingers curling into his hair. He’s already categorizing this as the best position available to human beings on earth.
Wave arches into him, feeling the solid heat of him radiating through the fabric of his clothes. Lava’s hands are everywhere, desperate and possessive. It’s as though he wants to consume Wave and he wants to be consumed in return.
A hand pushes Wave’s shirt up, dragging it over his head and discards it onto the floor with a careless toss.
The air in the room feels warm and heavy with their combined breath. Wave gasps when Lava kisses the dip of his navel and the rise of his hips as he grips Lava’s shoulders until his knuckles turn white.
The friction is agonizing and perfect. Wave shifts his weight, grinding his hips down against Lava. He feels the hard, desperate pressure of the blunt tip of Lava’s throbbing cock pushing against his own center.
It’s nothing but a silent admission of how much they wanted this. Lava’s hands slide down to his waist, then his fingers start fumbling for the button of Wave’s shorts. His movements are not graceful, not like they intend anything to be. They’re all clumsy and needy and frantic.
Wave helps him by kicking his legs until the fabric drops away.
And suddenly, they are skin to skin. The sensation is almost blinding as Wave moves with a rhythm that is instinctive because he loves the control. He loves the way Lava’s eyes track every movement of his body with a hunger that makes him feel like the center of the universe. He wants to feel everything at once. He wants to know that Lava is completely his.
They move together in a rhythm they have learned over months of nights like this. In a shared language of touch and friction and release only the two of them are fluent in.
Lava groans when he feels Wave’s fingers slipping into his pants and crawling past his underwear, then Wave encircles his fist around the massive cock, digging the pad of his thumb against the slit to elicit a deep and guttural noise out of Lava.
He pulls it out, freeing the pulsating length out of its confines without shedding the rest of Lava’s clothes. He contemplates as he pumps as if Lava needed more stimulation, as if he’s not hard enough yet. Then Wave decides.
He can take Lava in without lube. They’d done it before. Nodding to himself and without taking his gaze away from the leaking head in his grip, he spits into his other hand and uses his saliva to wet the rim of his hole. It doesn’t have to be too slick, he only needs enough wetness to make the slide a little easier.
“Wave,” Lava gasps. Wave leans forward to his knees and plants a soft kiss against his lips. He licks the seam of Lava’s lower lip as he positions himself right against the tip of Lava’s cock.
Wave takes a deep breath and finally sinks down. The sound that escapes Lava vibrates through their aligned chests and into Wave’s body. Lava’s hands come up to cup Wave’s face, holding him still for a heartbeat.
He looks at Wave with an intensity that is both terrifying and beautiful then he’s kissing him again. They lose themselves in the heat of the moment until Wave is sat flush against Lava’s lap, Lava’s cock deeply sheathed in him.
Wave pants. Lava naturally takes over, setting the pace now.
He drives his hips up to meet Wave with a steady and demanding force, causing Wave to throw his head back and let out a broken sound. He feels every inch of Lava inside him. He feels the way Lava anchors him to the mattress and the way they are finally syncing up perfectly.
Every push and every slide feels calculated akin to a slow burn that builds into a forest fire. Wave claws his fingers into Lava’s back, his grip sliding as sweat start to beading on Lava’s skin.
He loves feeling the way Lava’s muscles bunch beneath his touch that he’s almost overwhelmed by the sheer, unfiltered reality of it. After all, there is no performance here. What exists solely in that moment is the frantic need to be as close as humanly possible.
Wave wants to melt into Lava until they are indistinguishable. He wants to make sure Lava knows that he is not going anywhere and right here, on Lava’s lap, is exactly the right place where he belongs.
The tension climbs higher, reaching a sharp and dangerous peak. Wave can feel the ragged edge of his own control fraying.
He presses his forehead against Lava’s and breathes his name into his mouth. Lava responds with a surge of motion that forces a sob from Wave’s throat.
Everything centers on that point of contact, narrowing down to the friction and the heat and the sound of their names being gasped in the dark. They merged into a single entity moving in the quiet of the room.
As the pressure builds toward the inevitable, Wave holds on tight, not wanting the moment to end. He wants to live in the space between them forever.
Lava grunts, digging his thumbs into the sensitive skin of Wave’s hips and anchors him in place as he speeds up. He thrusts up with a punishing force and every upward movement forces Wave to grind down. It’s as if they’ve started a battle of who can take more and who can break first.
Wave rides him, reveling in the full length of Lava sliding deep into his core, wet and loud. The sharp slap of skin against skin fills the room. Lava’s forehead drops forward against Wave’s shoulder.
Everything feels like it’s pulsing beneath Wave’s palms, even when Lava thrusts harder like he’s no longer holding back, hitting deep, accurately reaching the spots that make Wave’s vision blur.
Wave throws his head back as he lets out a strangled sound. He’s out of breath but he can’t stop watching Lava’s face as he shoves his cock into Wave and pulls out over and over. He sees the way his teeth are bared and the way his eyes are blown dark with pure need.
Lava grabs his thighs then unceremoniously, he lifts Wave up until the back of his thighs can’t feel the roughness of Lava’s pants anymore. Then he slams him back down. The impact is hard and bruising, and it is exactly what Wave wants.
Lava’s cock slides in and out with a wet and heavy suction as he catches Wave every time he drops. The rhythm is relentless, it’s almost like a frantic and animalistic dance between mates.
Wave’s toes curl against the sheets as the tip of Lava’s cock prods against his prostate, in what felt like a hot and agonizing point of pressure. Every thrust sends a jolt of electricity straight to his brain.
“Wave,” Lava growls.
Wave can’t even find coherence left in him to respond so he merely grinds down harder. His desire to feel Lava everywhere and feel him stretching him out until there is no room left for anything else is unbridled.
The wet noise of their bodies is the only sound in the room and truth be told, it is the only thing that matters. They are sweating and slick, locked together in a tangle of limbs and heat and when Lava reaches a hand up, he finds the sensitive skin of Wave’s ribs.
His mouth leaves a mark right at the center of Wave’s chest. He thrusts again. The force of it knocks the breath out of Wave, sending him right to the edge.
Later, when they are warm and wrecked, half-asleep in each other’s arms, Wave sighs in utter satisfaction. He’s right where he wants to be: settled in Lava’s lap and facing him. Both of them caught in that sweet and exhausted haze that follows everything.
Lava traces idle patterns on his spine. His fingers are heavy with lingering affection.
“You really do have a problem,” Lava murmurs into his hair, and the sound comes out in a low vibration that Wave feels against his own chest.
“The only problem I have is when I am not sitting on your lap,” Wave mumbles as he presses a lazy kiss to Lava’s collarbone. “Your lap is the solution to all my problems.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one.” Wave yawns, melting further against Lava. He feels heavy and boneless. “It’s the best seat in the house, better than any chair or couch. It’s premium real estate. I give it five stars and I would recommend it to anyone.”
“To who?” Lava asks. “Who are you recommending my lap to?”
Wave lifts his head then studies Lava’s face in the low light. “No one,” he decides with finality and conviction. “Actually, I’m rescinding the recommendation. It’s mine only.”
Lava’s responding laugh shakes through both of them. It sounds so beautiful and perfect, which coaxes Wave to grin widely against his chest, feeling delighted with himself.
“You’re ridiculous,” Lava breathed warmly.
“You’re comfortable,” Wave says. “Not the same thing.”
“I can’t argue with that logic.”
“Good.” Wave tucks himself back in, already drifting toward sleep. “Because I’m not moving.”
Lava’s arms tighten around him securely, then he’s pulling Wave closer until there’s no space left between them. “I wouldn’t let you go even if you tried.”
And this is exactly why Lava’s lap is the best place in the entire world.
The next beach day arrives with a blistering sun and relentless breeze. Kratae takes one look at them.
Wave is already installed on Lava’s lap before they have even set up the umbrella. They’re a mess of limbs on the sand as Lava sits with his legs bent and his back against a piece of driftwood. He looks like he’s providing a seat that’s both sturdy and unyielding with how firmly and comfortably Wave is pressed against his chest, looking entirely at home.
Kratae reaches into her large beach bag and pulls out a bright blue spray bottle.
“Kratae.” Lava’s voice sounds flat and unimpressed.
“It’s for the heat,” she says pleasantly as she continues looking down at them with a smirk. “You both look very warm.”
“Give me that,” Wave butts in, holding a hand out and wiggling his fingers. He looks entirely unbothered by her judgment. “I will spray him first.”
Before Kratae can pass the bottle over, Lava has both of Wave’s arms pinned to his sides, holding him still.
Wave laughs brightly and it sounds so ridiculously happy, cutting through the constant noise of the ocean. Lava’s grip shifts from restraint into something that looks embarrassingly like an embrace, which only serves to send a message that they might as well be in a private world contained within a public space.
Kratae lowers the spray bottle, realizing the futility of her efforts.
Tum scrolls down his phone from his perch om the towel. “I told you.”
“Shut up.” Kratae smiles despite herself. She watches the way Wave lean into Lava endlessly and the way Lava refuses to let go, deciding to herself that some battles are not worth fighting.