Sam Worthington & Ryan Kwanten get dirty on the beach at Citadel Fiji
[takes place the day after the boys enjoy dinner in Fiji]
[warning: deep fisting]


"That was fucking brilliant," Sam says about their morning spent jetskiing around the inlets and coves of this side of Fiji. He plunks down on one lounger, pulling a second a little closer and hands Ryan his towel before shifting to spread out his own. "You still planning on sunbathing naked?" he asks, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.


"I was thinking about it, yeah. I mean, just because I can." Their home in Malibu certainly affords lots of sunbathing opportunities, but the beach there is just a bit high-traffic to be doing it nude. Ryan grins at Sam and lies down.

Sam grins, shaking the sunscreen again. "You're awfully clothed for it," he says, pointedly eyeing Ryan's shorts.

Ryan's own grin matches Sam's for mischievousness. He wriggles out of his bathing shorts, kicking them to the sand. Then he flips over to his stomach, pushing the lounger's back down to lie flat.

Sam shifts his lounger even closer and flips open the lid on the sunscreen, pouring a generous amount into his palm. He starts with Ryan's shoulders and neck, slowly covering every inch and rubbing the lotion in fully. "If you want, when I'm done here, I'll go make an appointment with the diving guy for tomorrow."

He's relaxing already, but Ryan's eyes snap open when Sam says that. He stares at the blurred towel in front of him. "Sure," he replies, trying to match Sam's casual tone. "We could do that, if you want. No big deal." He doesn't want to pressure, he wants to support. If he can.

Moving lower, Sam shrugs. "I should probably do it before Jim gets on my fucking case," he says, plus they're in the perfect place to do it. "You want a drink?" he asks, motioning to a passing server.

"Um. Margarita on ice, extra salt," Ryan answers. He knows Sam isn't excited about the scuba training that the Avatar sequel will demand, and he's proud of his lover for tackling his anxiety head-on. Blowing out a breath, he lets himself start to sink down, focusing on nothing but the heat of the sun and the decadent feeling of Sam's hands on his skin.

Sam orders Ryan's drink and a beer for himself and returns to his task, pouring more lotion into his palm and rubbing over Ryan's back, thumbs digging deep into muscle as he goes. "Do you not have any phobias?"

"Hmm. Centipedes?" Ryan suggests after a moment. "Those things are fucking creepy. If you tried to bring them into a scene, I would safeword on you in a fucking second." And that's saying something, considering he doesn't even have a safeword anymore.

Sam laughs. "I don't think you're in any danger there," he says, moving still lower, his thumbs digging into Ryan's lower back, working loose any lingering knots of tension. "It just seems weird being that far down, surrounded by water." He frowns a little. "Why do you like it?"

"Because it's a whole world we've only barely explored," Ryan murmurs. He's damn near melting beneath Sam's touch. "Everything you see down there is different from what you already know. It doesn't even feel the same as what you're used to. It's amazing, like you're visiting another planet or something."

"Yeah," Sam sighs. "Which is exactly what Jim's going for. I'm just not sure how I'm going to keep things separate. I mean going down without having to act is one thing, but controlling the fear and being Jake and-- Fuck."

Ryan frowns thoughtfully. "Isn't Jake afraid of anything?"

"I don't think so. Dying maybe. Never getting his legs back but he's got that solved," Sam says.

"Hmm." Ryan turns his cheek to lay against the towel, and reaches back to slide his hands over Sam's hips. "I bet he's afraid of centipedes," he says a moment later, his mouth quirking into a grin. "Huge Pandoran creepy-crawlies, as large as pigs... and Jake won't see any of those underwater. Hell, it'd be enough to make me dive."

"And you don't think there's something equally nasty down there?" Sam asks, going back for more lotion before he starts working on Ryan's ass.

"Nothing Jake Sully can't handle," Ryan assures him. "Besides, you know my favorite food is fish. Just look at everything down there as a potential meal." He spreads his thighs slightly, shivering a little despite the bright sunshine and the warmth of his lover's hands.

"Yeah? Lionfish tacos?" Sam grins, spreading Ryan's cheeks and drizzling a long line of sunscreen between them.

Ryan sucks in a breath. "Yeah. Exactly," he answers, licking his lips. But of course his mind is already far away, pondering the question Would sunscreen make good lube? Christ.

Sam smooths the lotion over Ryan's tattoo, tracing the lines with his fingers, the tips teasing closer and close to his boy's hole.

God, that is so intense for such a simple touch. Ryan is hyper-aware of the shape Sam outlines on his skin, feeling his lover's mark like a brand. Beneath him, his cock swells with blood, lust beating through him.

"You do realize if I fuck you, I'll have to do this all over again," Sam murmurs, fingers dipping deeper.

"...Do what?" Ryan's brow furrows slightly with confusion. "You could fist me. Out here."

"Rub sunscreen all over you," Sam says, but his cock's straining against his shorts, its attention caught by the last. Christ. He glances around with a groan, noting a decent audience. "Yeah, I could. You want that?"

"Yes. Yes please, Sir." A fine shiver racks Ryan's body as he thinks about being open - fully open - out here, like this. With Sam buried deep inside him. He groans at the image. "Oh god, please."

Their server arrives with their drinks at that very moment and Sam sends him back for a tub of lube. Sunscreen might be okay for fucking Ryan but no way is he going to fist him with it. "You realize everyone's gonna be watching," he tells Ryan, tracing and retracing his tattoo, fingers teasing all around his hole as they wait.

That cuts through Ryan's haze, and he snorts a laugh. "After last night?" he murmurs, thinking of how he'd been down on the restaurant floor fully-clothed, humping Sam's foot. He flushes hot with memory. "Yeah, I'm okay with that."

"Good." Sam grins, spreading Ryan's hole open with his thumbs. "I don't have a cock ring for you but you can come anytime you want. Doesn't mean I'll stop though so keep that in mind."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan shifts back slightly, moving more of his weight onto his knees. Opening himself up more to start with. "Please." It's hard to believe that he went so many years without being fisted. But Sam... fuck, Sam just addicts him to things.

Ryan is so fucking eager. It makes Sam hard as hell, his cock throbbing hard at the sight of his boy spreading his legs for him. He's just about to say fuck it and figure out how well sunscreen does work when the server returns with the small tub of lube. He signs for the drinks and adds a generous tip for the server's two trips but then his attention's back on Ryan, Ryan and his waiting open hole. "You can do better than that," he murmurs. "Show me how badly you want it."

Choking back a whimper, Ryan smoothes out his towel beneath him. Bracing his weight carefully against the lounger, he leans forward and presses his face to the towel, then reaches back with both hands to spread his cheeks wide.

"Good boy. You keep it like that while I get ready," Sam orders, nodding at a couple as they walk by, their eyes trailing over Ryan. They settle in some open loungers on the other side of Ryan, obviously taking the way they're doing this out here as an invitation to watch, which it is.

"Yes, Sir." The words are spoken in a bare whisper. Ryan is sinking down already, brought low by the simple act of being in this position. The fact that he can feel the sunshine beating down on him, and can hear snippets of conversation around them -- hell, those things barely register at this point. His focus is entirely on Sam, on the knowledge that his sir completely fucking owns him, and he's about to demonstrate his mastery.

Sam lubes up his hand and forearm, spreading a extra dollop of lube between Ryan's cheeks. He half-kneels beside him, with one knee on the lounger, his other foot braced on the sand, and works the lube into his hole, stretching him slowly open.

A soft moan slips from Ryan's lips. This feels so familiar, so good. The rhythmic crashing of the waves is a hypnotic sound and he gives himself up to the moment, relaxing for Sam.

Two fingers and then three, twisting into Ryan's hole, opening him up, the gape lasting longer and longer. "Such a slut for this," Sam murmurs, working in a fourth easily, his cock throbbing hard at the heat, and then tucking his thumb into his palm, the widest part pressing insistently against the stretched muscle.

Ryan whimpers. Digging his fingers in, he bears down, working to open himself up and take Sam inside. His mind is a dizzying rush of color and sound, his entire being focused on the point where Sam's body joins his.

"That's it. Good boy. Open up for me," Sam demands, twisting his hand deeper until suddenly, just like that, Ryan's body opens, sucking him in to the wrist.

Rocking forward, Ryan cries out. He feels so fucking full, so fucking owned, taken over and completely vulnerable. He's not even aware of his own soft whimpers, nearly continuous as he rocks slightly on Sam's fist.

Sam's head swims with the tight heat of Ryan's body and he presses the edge of his free hand against his cock, tamping down his arousal. He can't help a quick glance at the people around them, those closest watching with avid interest, but he quickly returns his attentions to Ryan, folding his fingers into a fist and moving deeper, his knuckles rubbing over his boy's prostate.

"Oh, god." Ryan arches his back, shuddering. It feels so good, but it's so damn intense. He feels his hands beginning to slip and quickly adjusts them, digging his fingernails into his ass cheeks.

"You can let go now, boy," Sam says, noticing the slip. On one hand it's tempting to make Ryan hold position but on the other, he knows it'll fuck up his headspace, having to be so conscious of what he's doing. "I've got you," he adds, pushing still deeper, his hand shaped into a cone now.

"Thank you, Sir," Ryan whispers. He carefully puts down one hand then the other, and then goes to his elbows. He's steadily fucking himself on Sam now, feeling his lover take him deeper and desperate for it not to stop.

Sam hadn't planned to go further than his forearm but Ryan's opening up so easily, taking him so eagerly, they're at his elbow before he knows it. Christ. "Fuck, look at you," he murmurs. "Such a good boy," he praises, letting Ryan feel the change in girth, prepare for what's coming.

Warning flashes through Ryan, and his rhythm falters. Every breath is an effort, heavy in his chest, his limbs feeling liquid and leaden.

Sam rubs another dollop of lube around his elbow and pushes forward, twisting his arm a little to get Ryan's hole to stretch as needed, the skin pale, almost paper thin. "C'mon, boy. You can take it. You've done this before," he tells him.

Ryan shouts in response, but he can barely hear his own voice over the rushing in his ears. His orgasm takes him over before he even registers that it's coming, everything so damn fucking intense that it leaves him nearly boneless. He drops forward to lie on his arms, ass still in the air, a cheek wet with tears pressed hard against the towel.

Jesus fucking Christ. Sam's cock jerks so violently he'd swear he's going to come, but he manages to hold back and push still deeper once Ryan's muscles ease up. "Good boy. That's it," he murmurs. "You're not done though. You're gonna come for me again," he says, twisting his whole arm inside Ryan, his other hand going to his boy's still dripping cock, using his come to slick his strokes.

The sound Ryan makes now is barely human. Pain seizes him in a fiery grip, searing through him, and he howls at his lover's touch. "Please. Please," he whispers, his entire body racked with shudders. This can't be happening.

Fuck yes. Sam twists his arm again, fingers moving ever more roughly over Ryan's cock, refusing to let it soften. "C'mon, boy, Come for me," he orders.

Ryan keens wordlessly, trying instinctively to draw in on himself, to protect himself. But he's not going fucking anywhere. He's pinned between a fucking rock and a hard place, conditioning taking over when his brain has completely quit on him. His cock spurts again, slowly, weakly, and he moans, too overwhelmed now to even trace the pleasure through his fog.

"My boy," Sam murmurs, rocking his arm inside Ryan. "My boy, my hole. I own this," he growls softly with another twist. "Own you." Christ. He releases Ryan's cock and shoves down his shorts, taking his cock in hand and stroking hard.

Helpless and blind, Ryan sobs. He's emptied out and hurting, but he knows that growl even at a moment like this, and he struggles towards Sam.

It doesn't take much though. A couple more strokes and Sam's coming, hot and thick, all over Ryan's ass, his seed painting his own arm and Ryan's hole.

Oh god. Ohgod ohgod ohgod... That's about the extent of Ryan's thoughts right now. He whines at the feeling of Sam marking him. But he's still pinned, and vaguely terrified by the knowledge that Sam has yet to pull out. He needs, though, god. Needs his sir to hold him.

"Shh. Good boy. Hold on," Sam says, slowly drawing back. "I'll be out in a minute." Easing his arm free and wiping them both clean with the nearest towel before reaching for his boy.

The pain is a razor-sharp burn, and Ryan shouts brokenly. But then he's melting to the lounger and Sam's arms are around him, soothing him. He muffles a whimper against his lover's throat, clutching at him.

Sam pulls Ryan in so fucking close. Kisses the top of his head and holds him tight, sheltered against those watching, whispering words of praise and love and patience, well aware his tone matters far more than the actual words.

It takes a while for Ryan to fully relax, but he's hardly aware of the passage of time at this point. Eventually he loosens his grip on his lover from a chokehold to an embrace, nuzzling against Sam's shoulder. And he slips right into sleep.