Title: "Summer Catch"
Author: monimala/mala
Fandom: OLTL
Rating/Classification: not-really-sexual content profanity, Rex/Adriana.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Nu-uh.
Summary: Plot? What plot? It's hot, they're hot, 'nuff said.
There's a finite number of things a guy can do to entertain himself when it's the middle of summer, his life sucks, and he hasn't gotten laid in months. He's all ready worn out option number one. He has the calluses to prove it.
Option number two...is right in front of him. She's cute, she's loaded, and...and does there even need to be a third reason? Nah.
He pushes past melting ice and cans of Coke, swipes a beer from the Buchanan kid's cooler, and watches her sun herself on the rocks of the quarry. It's a scorcher and he has no idea how she's not going up in flames. Or why she's tanning in the first place because, from what he can see, she is all ready a kickass shade of golden brown all over. *All* over.
Would it be obvious to offer to rub some SPF-15 on her back? Oh, hell yeah. But it's not like he's ever been subtle. And all it would take is one little twist of his fingers and that barely-there bikini bottom would be not-there. She's a good girl, though. A nice girl. And she would probably slap him and call him a jerk. Nothing meaner than that because he doubts she's ever used words like "asshole" or "fucker." But wouldn't it be...nice?
At the moment, he wants, more than anything, to hear pretty little Adriana say "fuck."
Okay, he's lying. He wants one thing more than that.
*Fuck me, Rex.*
He crouches down by her side, trailing the dripping, icy, bottle of Heineken along the line of her spine. He half-expects the water to sizzle on her skin. "Duke! Stop!" she giggles, turning to look at him with girlfriendly happiness as he traces circles right above the curve of her spectacular ass. "R-rex?" The giggles stop. Her big dark eyes get decidedly less girlfriendly. Not even *friendly.* And she rolls out of reach, taking her beach towel with her as she sits up.
"Hiya," he murmurs, waiting for her to slap him. "Hot day, huh?"
"I thought you were Duke," she says, stiffly. Her lips are all shiny with gloss, red and sexy. A woman's lips and a woman's bod' on someone still acting like a good little girl.
"I'm way better looking than Duke." He forces off the cap of the beer, taking a good, long, swallow and letting her think about that. He knows she's watching him. Watching him swallow. Wanting to look away, but he's been working out and he left his shirt...oh...who knows where...
"Why are you here?" She glances over her shoulder, probably looking for her pretty Prince Charming. Rex fed him some bullshit line about an emergency with cranky, ancient Asa. *Sure, the emergency is that I'm amazed the geezer's not dead yet.* The guy is probably halfway across town by now.
"You're way better looking than Duke, too," he tells her. And when he tilts the Heineken toward her, she shakes her head, vigorously. No taking candy from strangers. He bets she looks both ways before she crosses the street, too. The soda in the cooler was for her. Jesus Christ. *Soda*.
Last summer, when he'd been strapped for cash to put into UltraViolet, he'd almost gone after her. They'd run into each other all over Angel Square and he'd teased her and he'd jerked off thinking about her and her amazing...bank account and he could have had her. He could have had her in two seconds flat because that idiot River Carpenter was no match for him. And she...oh, she definitely is.
He shakes his head, slowly. "You're so sweet. You can't be real." And it's not a line. Not really. "How can you possibly be this sweet?"
He has no idea why he's even here, but he knows he'd take her to bed. He's a guy. She's a girl. He would take her to bed, to the floor, to her towel right here and now...and, oh...would you look at that...before he knows it, she's snaking the beer out of his hand.
"Not that sweet," she assures, a glint of challenge in her eye and an even bigger helping of attitude in her voice. "I'm a Cramer," she informs, in the way someone would say "I'm the President." And considering her family...she probably could be some day. Although, he's not entirely sure she was born in the U.S. so that might screw with her chances. Oh, well, he'd make a lousy First Lady anyway.
She swallows. He watches her. The way her throat moves. She doesn't even flinch at the taste. She licks her lips and he knows it's not a brewskie she's thirsty for. "Why are you here, Rex? Seriously?"
It's not like he's ever been subtle. And, it looks like, neither has she.
"Why do you think?"
Maybe she's learned something from her string of loser boyfriends after all. Not that two counts as a "string." He nearly chokes on his tongue when she takes the very, very, lucky green Heineken bottle and presses it against her throat, pretending to cool off.
"Adriana, I'm going to kiss you right now and, so help me God, if you don't want me to...you'd better knock my block off." But halfway through the warning, he's all ready doing it. All ready tasting the cherry gloss and her soft little whimper.
"R-rex!" He loves the way she says his name...tripping over the 'r', saying it twice with that little gasp in between..."Stop...no..." But she doesn't slap him. She doesn't call him a jerk. Or an asshole. Or a fucker.
She just winds her fingers in his hair and climbs into his lap and spills beer all over them both in the process so...Jesus...he might as well take off his shorts. And, then, her barely-there bikini bottom is not-there...and his fingers are clutching her hips...and her skin is so goddamned soft. Hot.
"Say it," he pleads, as she pulls him down to her towel. "Just say it once...come on..." She arches up against him and he licks the same path down her neck, between her breasts, that Mr. Heineken took. "Say you want me...say you want me to *fuck* you..."
This can't possibly be happening. He's going to snap out of it and find out he's been standing ten feet away from her and fantasizing like some pathetic pervert. Or...worse...he'll wake up in his bed...alone.
"Rex," she gasps out. Just his name. Like she's been saying it her whole life. Without reservation. Without stumbling. Without anything but absolute certainty that she wants to be with him here in this quarry. "Rex, I...I want..."
And all of a sudden, he knows he doesn't want this gorgeous mouth forming such an ugly word. No matter how sexy it would sound. "Shhh..." He kisses her before she can get past the 'f'. He swallows it up. Swallows her. He whispers "baby" and "yes" and "I'm here" and, for just this moment, now and today, it's the total truth.
She is so beautiful, so unbelievably perfect, that it actually hurts. Tomorrow, he'll have the bruises to prove it.
There's a finite number of things a guy can do to entertain himself when it's the middle of summer.
And he wants one thing more than that.
--end--
April 21, 2005.