[Santo - The Beach]

[walk_ins]

[master post]

You have to walk down a ramp to get to the sand. The ramp stretches over sand dunes, with sea oats dotting them, blowing in the near-constant breeze. On the same level as the ramp: a boardwalk, dotted with places to get sketchy-looking fried food, to try your luck at a number of games of chance, to watch performers, to ride roller coasters of the future!!!!

When you walk down the ramp, it's all white sand and blue water. Down about half a mile is a pier that juts out several hundred feet.

It's a nice beach. Not too crowded.

Comments

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

"No sand there." He's helpless to stop the way his eyes follow the line of her hand as she spreads lotion over her body. He'd like to be doing that for her, but it's just as good to allow himself this voyeuristic little moment.

And then he glances down at his own clothing: he's not wearing a swimsuit and it's been a long time since the bulk of his body has seen the sunlight, but he's comfortable: the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and the warm breeze licks him, playing with the ends of his hair. He sits cross-legged next to Faye, tall and protective because she really is like a princess and he's pleased as anything to be her consort.

Reaching over, he brushes a little sand off her thigh, although he understands perfectly well why the sand would want to be there. If he's lucky, maybe he'll get a little bit of a tan too. Then, after wining and dining her later, they can compare tan lines... and more.

There's such a tinge of unreality to this whole trip. Maybe all vacations have that element to them: he hasn't been on one in so long that he has nothing to compare it to. But he knows there's really no one he'd rather be here with than Faye.

He hopes she feels the same way about him. The bar is a small and somewhat finite world and part of him believes with all his heart that location doesn't matter: he and Faye had this... thing going as far back as Callisto, even if it was completely unexplored there. He likes to think that the newness of Santo won't be too much of a distraction away from that. She's seen a lot of different aspects of his personality, but not his jealous side. There hasn't been any call for that and anyway, he's always tried really hard to keep that part well under wraps, and he'll do that here too.

"Do you want something to drink?" The heat -- a novelty at first -- is now... hot.

[anythingbutblue]

"Not a single grain." Her shrug is a sad little lament.

Putting the cap back on her lotion, she sets it back down and stretches out as luxuriously as possible... until he asks if she wants something to drink. Then she props up on her elbows to look at him.

"I could go for a drink. You're thirsty?"

She turns away to glance down the beach, and it looks like there's a stand of some sort not too far away.

Or maybe he has something else in mind. And if he does, she's willing to hear his case.

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

While it wasn't anywhere near as hot there, one lesson he learned on Titan was to stay well hydrated in a desert setting. He saw too many of his comrades falter in the sands of Titan and even though he's... dead, Faye certainly isn't and he doesn't want to let the least bit of harm come to her. Not on his watch for sure, but not at any time.

She's precious.

He nods to the stand a little further down on the ramp. "I can go grab us something for while we're here... if you trust me to choose something for you. I promise I'll still wine and dine you later." The sun's having an effect on her skin already; he can see it getting just a little bit pink and because he can, he runs his finger down the length of her leg on the outside. It's something he used to be so good at; he'd touch and be touched without a second thought and with a great deal of attentiveness. The last few years of his life saw him starved for that kind of contact, and it's only since he and Faye ended up together -- more or less -- that he's had a chance to regain his balance that way. Remember how it feels, remember what it's like, remember how to let his hands fondle more than the keys of a saxophone.

A momentary flash of his months on the supply ship leaving Pluto crowds his memories, but he shakes it off: this is certainly no time to dwell on the past. None of the old pain and rage and humiliation can touch him now.

"Shall I?" Whether or not she trusts him to wander off and pick out a treat doesn't really matter; he's going to do it anyway. It doesn't take long until he's back with a pair of obscenely large blended drinks liberally peppered with chunks of fruit, small umbrellas, and beads of condensation. Thick liquid in reds and oranges and yellows swirls around inside the transparent plastic glasses. Sitting by her side again, he hands her one of the concoctions, a small and sly smile on his face: there's more in this drink than she might think.

"A special drink for a special woman." Again, the gold chain around her waist catches his eye and he almost can't stand it: she's a living seduction and that realization makes him so smug.

[anythingbutblue]

In the meantime, she's rocked slowly onto her side so she can prop her head on her hand and watch him through her sunglasses until the ramp takes him temporarily out of her sight.

He's attractive. She's already seen him turn a head or two, and she's hardly surprised. He can turn her head, after all, and she's a tough audience.

You'd never guess he's dead. And you'd never guess why he's wearing that button-down shirt out here, either. It actually makes her smug to think that she's the only person who gets under it.

So maybe she's selfish. So what?

When he comes back and hands her one of the drinks -- part rainbow, part fruit, and so much alcohol she can smell it without even holding it too near her nose -- she let her lips curve into a smirk and peers over her glasses at him.

"If I didn't know any better, Mister Saxophone, I'd say you were trying to make me easier prey."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

The grin he shoots her is a little on the devious side. "I might just be trying to get you into bed with me." With a broad gesture, he indicates the sand on all sides. "If you don't mind a little sand, that is."

He can do drinks with a lot of alcohol; the stuff has so little effect on him now. In a way, he's like the permanent designated driver for them: dead but strong, he could carry Faye wherever he needs to so he can see her safely to beauty rest. Of course, she probably wouldn't let him do that, but it's all right: he's entitled to his fantasies just like anyone else.

Being on a different world is a treat, especially considering he was resigned to never leaving the bar. But the honest truth of the matter is that he would have left because he promised that to Faye, and he would have followed her anywhere. Even if it meant he would no longer be, he'd do it if it meant she could be out here having a normal life. She's such an amazing woman; there isn't much of the good variety that she doesn't deserve. Not everyone sees her like he does, and he really doubts that's just death coloring yet another aspect of existence with its rosy hues.

If everyone felt like he does now, nobody would fear death at all. It's made him so much more alive.

One not-so-tentative sip of his -- what did they call it, a mixed-fruit delight? -- later, he gives her a catlike grin before stretching out again. There have been times when he's wished he could give her the world on a silver platter. He can't, but moments like this make it seem like he's getting close.

"So... how do you like it?" The drink would be the obvious subject of the question, but he's left it intentionally vague: she's fun to seduce any way he can, and as far as he's concerned, there's no one more stunning on the entire beach than Faye.

And she's here with him.

[anythingbutblue]

"If I minded sand, I probably wouldn't be here."

She holds her straw between her fingers and takes a drink, and it makes her eyes widen just a little bit. It's just as strong as it smells -- but still not nearly as strong as Atlantean, as she well knows -- and she answers that sly grin of his with one of her own.

"You're being coy."

Sitting up, she fits her icy plastic glass between her folded legs.

"But if you're curious about the drink," she goes on, smoothing hair back away from her face, "I'd have to say the wining and dining is off to a decent start."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

"Good. Because I got these too." The sand in front of his towel makes an excellent coaster for his drink; he makes a little bit of a show of sliding his hand slowly over his stomach and waist, dipping into his hip pocket for a little bag of exquisitely wrapped nut-and-chocolate treats. They'll probably go quickly in this heat, although they're supposed to be melt-free.

If they're not, that'd be a shame. He'd just have to help get extra chocolate off Faye.

In an odd way, this reminds him of the way life used to be in the days before he was silly enough to join the Army -- talk about life-changing mistakes -- when there was nothing to do but flirt and enjoy things. Flirtation's one set of skills, seduction is a second, and following through is a third. They're all things he's been accused of being pretty good at over the years.

He hands Faye the candy and reaches for his drink, and as he does, he notices his arm is actually a little bit tan. This is far from the first time he's wanted to shout out what the hell, death? What is this nonsense? Everything still works and I don't believe in you any more.

For Faye, though, he smiles. "I guess we're going to have to expand our world view being here." Raising his glass to hers, he toasts. "To the prettiest girl on the planet, from the prettiest boy." That not only makes him laugh aloud: it also fills him with a surge of protectiveness and possession. No one else gets to muscle in on what they have. Not here, not back and the bar, and not anywhere in between. "You still want to go to the casino later?"

[anythingbutblue]

Her eyes follow the movement of his hand, and she doesn't attempt to hide how intrigued she is by the bag he pulls out of his pocket.

"I don't know about you," she tells him, reaching for it as if she'd gladly help herself now, "but I don't mind having to expand my world view at all."

The toast makes her flash him a smug smile, and before it has a chance to fade, she raises an eyebrow.

"Now what do you think?"

It almost makes her laugh. If she had money for every time he's said something that made her defiantly think that he doesn't know her as well as he seems to think he does, she'd be a wealthy woman.

But he does know her better than to need to ask if she still wants to make a casino trip later.

"Maybe you'll just have to wine and dine me there."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

"I was thinking that might be a good plan." Not that he's all that big on advance planning, but if they leave here and go through the market area and pick up a few things, go back to their room and change clothes -- he's got nothing against her very skimpy bathing suit or his rolled-up shirt and khakis -- but these outfits probably won't get them into the casino if it's anything like the ones in their galaxy.

It's a special night, and he'd like to treat her with as much grace and intention as he can muster. After all, it's been... two and a half years for him and even longer for Faye since a night out on the town actually meant a real night out on the town. The confines of the bar are... confines. A bigger, more pleasant prison of sorts but that's really not a fair assessment. It's where they live: no more, no less.

Or where they stay. No: live. He's stubborn enough to refuse to give up on that particular dream.

Watching with guarded amusement as she unwraps one of the nut candies, he follows its path from the bag to her mouth with more than a little envy: he knows what it's like for those supple, strong, fine fingers of hers to take hold of something. Whether or not she knows it, Faye has a musician's fingers. She moves them with such grace. The first time he noticed that was when he was pouring her a drink at his apartment in Blue Crow and the second time was when she was firing a gun at him. The third time was when he stopped to consider those hands of hers cuffed behind her back as he left her on his bed.

He could have taken advantage of her but... women weren't his style, or so he said. And he's glad he didn't; he knows what that's like only too well and would never inflict it on anyone under any circumstances.

A gentle breeze kicks up now, rolling right off the water. The smell of salt wafts over to them; he breathes in deeply then turns his attention back to Faye and the chocolate disappearing between her lips. He'd like to chase it with a kiss, a caress, a hug, some macho statement of ownership.

He'll save that for later. They have time.

[anythingbutblue]

"Well, once we finish our little snack," she tells him, perfectly willing to drive the action, "I'll want to wait long enough to take a dip."

You can't go to the beach for what feels like the first time in forever and not actually get in the water. She plans to take full advantage of this little vacation.

His eyes don't leave her even once she's got the candy in her mouth, and she can hardly be blamed if her chin tilts up a little, if her eyes narrow slyly, if another smile quirks her lips.

It's not exactly her style to help other people do what they're capable of doing themselves, but she unwraps a second piece and this one she holds up to his mouth, nearly bumping his bottom lip with it.

"But after that, I could be willing to let you escort me to the nearest casino."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

He's about to tell her he's not going into the water for a whole multitude of reasons -- which she can more than likely figure out for herself -- until she starts to feed him candy. There's something so indulgent about it that he lets out a low laugh, then touches the top of her hand as he eats the treat. Most of their touch-based play has taken place in private and so it's both surprising and a little bit liberating to do it in public.

Still, he's not much of an exhibitionist when he's not on stage with a saxophone in his hands and while he's not shy, he's got enough of a sense of self-preservation and privacy so he doesn't want to flash all of Santo with the... unusual components of his body.

No wet t-shirt contests for him. But he'll gladly watch if Faye wants to indulge, along with the rest of the population of the beach, he's sure. Still not letting go of her hand, he kisses the tips of her fingers -- all of them -- before swallowing the chocolate which is really good, actually, for something in a bag from a seaside food stand.

"Okay. It's a date." He kisses the tips of her fingers one more time then lets go of her hand; he needs his own hands to roll up the legs of his trousers as far as they'll go. He's more than happy to wade into the water with her, stand there while she swims, keep the towels dry on his shoulders, and keep everyone else away from her.

And after that, they can walk through the market and pick up whatever they need, then head back to their room and get ready for the casino. If he has any say in the matter they'll take their time with that, but Faye might have other ideas. And whatever she wants... he'll see to it that's exactly what she gets.