The Summer It All Began Contest

Title: Deep Blue Sea

Word Count: 7,821

Rating: Rated M for Language.

Pairing: Emmett/Paul

Summary: The surfer and the lifeguard. One thrill seeker, one life saver-brought together by accident. AH, Slash pairing.

Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.

Deep Blue Sea.

As I spread the sex wax over my stick, I hum contentedly to myself and wonder if he will be there again today. With the Summer season in full swing, he seems to be on the beach on most days now, an extra pair of hands during the busy tourist season.

Taking in a breath of the coconut scented sex wax, I make sure to rub on an even coating, needing my stick to be well prepared. With my eyes closed, I trail my hand over my stick, feeling the slight bumps along the vein and wonder if he could ever notice me. I wonder if he has seen my stick, what he thinks of it, what he would think of it standing upright for him to see.

I picture him in his tight, red uniform, the shorts hugging his ass and the sleeveless top exposing his muscular arms and clinging to his chest. With the coconut scent and the feel of my stiff stick beneath my hands, I shiver with excitement and release my breath slowly, looking down to admire my handy work.

I love my stick, one of many I have owned over the years, but this one is my favourite. It cost an arm and a leg, working crappy hours serving beer behind a bar until I could afford the money for this brand new surf board. I have been waiting for the perfect day to test it out, with the waves forming nicely, a high peak to glide across. It almost felt like sacrilege to remove the shrink wrapping from its length, but it would be a bigger sacrilege to leave it unused.

Mr Zog's sex wax is my wax of choice, it has a nice scent and if used liberally, it prevents a surfer from slipping off his board whilst paddling to meet a wave, or riding down the drop of one. Ok, so there is the name and slogan too: 'Mr Zog's Sex Wax-The best for your stick.'

When I'm sure that my new board is ready to be ridden and tested, I leave it upon its stand and go to prepare myself.

I don't even know if he tends to swing the same way as me, for all I know he could have a wife and kids, or at the least, a big-titted summer fling; or several. I want him to notice me, though. I want him to at least look at me, to trail his eyes over my muscles, the way I have mentally drooled over his.

So as I choose what to wear to the beach for the day, I opt for a bright red pair of knee length shorts to match his, loose enough to not restrict my balls too much, but tight enough across my ass to show him what I have to offer. I'm sure he's looked at me at least once or twice; maybe he'll notice that I've let my hair grow a little, to try and match his.

Once wearing the chosen shorts, giving a few squats and checking my ass in the mirror to see if they're tight enough, I add a white, sleeveless t-shirt to my attire. The light fabric and colour will help against the heat of the day, the lack of sleeves will show off my muscles and the tattoo upon my upper arm. It's one of my many logo t-shirts that I own, this one being a Mr Zog's one. It has a green circle on the front with 'sex wax' written in large letters across the middle; above and below is the brand name and the slogan.

Maybe he will see my ass in these shorts, then the word 'sex' in big letters on the front.

Maybe today he will notice me.

I stuff my feet into my usual pair of sandals and head for the door, gathering a beach towel and my stick under one arm on the way out. It's only a five minute walk to the beach from my ground floor apartment in the town, but with the chances of broken glass and other filth on the sidewalk, I'm not going to risk going barefoot.

Two minutes away from the beach and I can see it at the end of the street, where the buildings stop and give way to sand and sea. Even over the sounds of traffic and tourists, I can hear the waves crashing onto the sand.

I'm not usually fond of tourists, they line every sidewalk causing a hindrance to my progress to get into the waves, but more importantly, onto the beach and in clear eye line of the lifeguard hut; God, I hope he's on duty today.

As I make my approach, I picture him in my head. His curly, black hair shining in the sunlight as though it's wet. I know he probably uses a product, but oh what I would give to be able to run my fingers through his hair, to wash out the product and feel what his hair is like, slipping through my fingers when it really is wet.

I imagine that he will be in one of four possible places; I've seen him in each at one point or another over the past few weeks.

He might be on the decking of the lifeguard hut, leaning upon the banister of the porch and looking out towards the sea, watching for signs of anyone in need of rescuing. I long for him to rescue me, to enter the water and swim up to me; to hold me to his strong chest, with his equally strong arms.

If he's not standing at the hut, then he might be walking up and down the length of the beach, moving amongst the tourists and offering advice for beach and sea safety. I've been standing nearby to him once before, when he was explaining to some German tourists about what the different coloured flags mean. He had seemed to be having difficulty getting them to understand our language and his accent, that amazing Tennessee accent, but watching him growing frustrated and yet remaining calm had been interesting to watch.

His brow crinkles cutely when he's concentrating hard, or trying hard to be patient.

Maybe he's already been summoned into the waves to help a swimmer or a surfer in distress. I've watched the lifeguards going into the water frequently on the jet ski and the inflatable engine powered rescue boat. I try to spot him during the action, to see what he looks like sat astride the jet ski, with the muscles of his legs bulging from the strain, but it usually happens too quickly to really see much.

The fourth possible place that he might be, is at home or somewhere else during his day off; I really hope he isn't though.

After crossing the main road towards town, the hard sidewalk gives way to soft sand and I can see now that the waves are perfect, exactly what I was hoping for to try my new surfboard on.

Considering that I have been surfing since I was nine and that living so close to the beach means that it's my life, just like it's been frequently for the past few weeks my attention quickly leaves the waves, my eyes roaming the length of the beach in search of him.

I look to the lifeguard hut, but he's not there leaning against the banister.

I turn to scan every piece of red fabric upon the beach, but none hold his body within.

Please, please be here.

I trail my gaze across the high tide line until I see the jet ski and the inflatable rescue boat, but he's not there either and they're not currently in use.


I feel so despondent at the lack of getting a glimpse of him, yet I know that I really shouldn't be. It's not as though I have the balls to walk up to him and introduce myself, telling him that I'm gay and want badly to squirm between his tight shorts and his skin; he will probably freak and run back to Tennessee.

What are the chances of him being gay anyway?

With a deep breath and a drawn out sigh, I make my way across the sand to where a few of my local surfing buddies are preparing to head into the water. They greet me with hand waves, or those nearest bump knuckles with me, as I stab my board upright into the sand for them to admire. As compliments pass around, I toe off my sandals and toss them aside to the pile of discarded shoes and clothes.

Some of the guys have stripped off their t-shirts, but even in this warm temperature, I prefer a little protection from the sun and the sea water, which will be a few degrees less than the air temperature; making it feel cold at first.

When the guys are ready, having flexed their muscles whilst sucking in their stomachs, aiming to impress some female tourists nearby, I tuck my board under my arm and follow them down to the water's edge. I had intended to flex my muscles, suck in my stomach and clench my ass cheeks, but it wasn't the bikini clad blondes that would have been my intended target.

My target appears to be off duty today.

The water is chilly to the skin of my bare feet, as I follow the guys into the shallows. The further we wade in, the higher the water travels up over my ankles and towards my knees. I know that when it reaches my crotch, my balls will shrink and my cock will shrivel to seek warmth inside my body; maybe it's a good job he's not around today after all. He might see me and think I'm not endowed. Once my body temperature drops, it'll be tricked into thinking that the water is nice and warm, so I'll soon grow again.

Just as I expected, as the water level reaches my upper thighs, I can feel my balls retracting as though avoiding the approaching onslaught, but ahead of me, my surfing companions have draped themselves onto their boards and are paddling out, so I shall follow them. As the water reaches my waist, I throw myself onto my new board and use my arms to paddle myself along in the wake of my friends.

I'm a little further back than them, watching as they easily drift over the top of the swell of water. When it reaches me, the top is beginning to whiten as the wave prepares to break. I slide myself a little higher along the length of my board and as the wave starts to barrel above my head height, I take a deep breath and tilt the nose of my board down. The weight of the water breaks over my head and my back, as I punch through the other side of the fluid wall. I take a moment to catch my breath from the sudden chill that has soaked me, shaking my head to flick my drenched hair from my eyes, then continue to paddle out after my friends.

I have to duck-dive twice more like this, before I'm out of the break zone and drifting over the swells of the sea like the others. There are other surfers out here and now without the threat of waves breaking on me, knocking me for six, I chance a glance around to see if I recognise any of them.

When I catch up to the others, they've stopped paddling and are sitting upright on their boards, drifting with the current of the sea. I sit up too, astride my new stick with my legs in the water, accustoming them to the change of temperature.

As I swipe my hand across my face, to rid the salty water from my eyes, I cast a glance towards the beach. It's packed with tourists and the lifeguard flags are flowing gently with the breeze, giving us surfers a clue to the faint wind direction and the best sections of the sea to sit and wait for a good wave. I'm in one of the prime spots, the current drifting me slowly along with my friends.

I watch the flags. Two red and yellow ones that mark out the section for tourists and locals to swim, where the on duty lifeguards will keep a watchful eye on them. The other two flags are black and white, marking out the surfing zone. I'm sat perfectly in the middle of those two. As long as the tourists keep within their own flags, they'll be safe from surfers on boards barrelling down the waves towards them.

Running a hand through my dripping hair, I turn my focus to the lifeguard hut, a white, wooden building upon the sand with the lifeguard flag swaying gently upon the roof. It's distant now, but I can just make out someone standing by the banister, looking out towards the sea, towards me? The sun is glinting off the shades covering his eyes, glistening faintly on the damp product of his hair. His black, curly hair. He's here after all!

The thought of him possibly watching me boosts my confidence. I might be far away from him out here, but there's a small chance that he can see me if he's watching the sea. It might be wistful thinking, but it looks as though he is watching only me. God, I hope so.

"Set on!"

I turn my attention from my dream man and look towards my companions, then past them to where the swell is beginning to roll in. The set of the waves is clear to see, like lines upon the water. I watch as my friends scramble to arrange themselves, so they'll be in perfect line to catch a wave towards the shore, before paddling out here to do it again and again.

I've surfed this beach long enough to know that the first wave is good, but the last of the set is better.

As the first wave begins to form, the swell of the water lifts me, then lowers me level once more. My eyes follow the movements as three of my friends paddle hastily towards the shore, the crest of the wave lifting them and they quickly raise to their feet as the wave breaks and they disappear from sight down the drop.

I grin as I hear one of the guys give a whoop! He thinks he's caught a good wave.

As the second wave of the set lifts me, two more of my companions position themselves and paddle, they take to the wave just as the first has died and the three begin to paddle back towards us. They easily avoid collisions with each other, having been at this a while, one or two of them since before I was even walking.

With a glance around, I'm the only one left and the third wave is mine. I pull my legs onto the board behind me, aiming myself in the direction of the beach as I paddle. I feel the swell lift the back of my board. Two more scoops of my hands. The middle of the board is lifted and it's time.

Pressing my hands onto the board, I boost myself up to my feet and drop down the incline of the wave, cutting an arc to the left and riding it in towards the beach. I risk a glance towards the lifeguard hut. He's still there. Still watching. When I feel the wave slow and begin to die, I curve my board into the wave and drop onto my stomach, beginning the long paddle out to the back again.

Once out the back, I sit astride my board like before, wiping the wet hair away from my eyes and throw a little small talk along with the others, boasting to who got the best ride. Those that went first claim that it was them, but I've ridden first waves many times and I know that my solo wave was better.

After a little bantering, I look towards the beach and squint against the glare of the sun, but I can't see him at the hut anymore. I try to locate him, scanning my eyes around for any sign of tight, red shorts and black hair, but there's not enough time to search as another approaching set is called out.

It's the same for several minutes, catching waves to the shore and paddling back out, stopping for air and a scan of the beach and hut, only to do it all over again.

There's a lull in the sets, the tide is preparing to turn and head inwards to the shore and we have time to sit and catch our breath. I listen to the others bantering, but the current has drifted me a slight distance from them, a little too far to be bothering to call across my own banters to them.

I'm basically ignored by them, but I don't mind one bit as it gives me a chance to search the beach again. I ring out the water from my drenched t-shirt as I gaze towards the lifeguard hut, having to squint from the sun again, but I see him almost clear as crystal, leaning on the banister. He's not looking my way this time, instead he's gazing towards the swimming section, but I can't help trick myself into believing that his head is just turned that way and he's actually watching me from the corner of his eye; such a wishful, longing thought.

It's during one of my many daydreams of him mentally undressing me, when I feel a sudden pain in my right leg. For a fleeting second, I think it's just cramp from the water, but it increases and there's a sudden downwards force working against me. I don't even have time to grip my board, as I'm yanked sideways off it and into the water.

I've been sat above the water for so long, that when my body is submerged, it causes me to gasp in a breath, right before my head is pulled under. The pain increases and I struggle, trying desperately to surface, to find purchase, to grab my board and pull myself up. I flail around beneath the water, my right leg is caught in something, but I kick the left out and feel pain in my big toe.

I connect with something that feels as solid as stone, but the pressure on my right leg releases and I shoot to the surface in an instant, gasping for needed air. My board is right there and I grip to it for dear life.

The pain in my leg is increasing further, I feel as though I can't move it at all and it's a struggle to heave myself up onto my board. When my body connects flat with the waxed surface, my trembling arms collapse me onto it.

My head is turned to the right of the board, the sight of red in the water is alarming, though it takes many seconds for my mind to connect what I am seeing, to what I am feeling. It's then that I realise the red in the water is my blood.

Once that realisation hits me, so does the pain in my leg. I turn my head enough to see down the length of my body. The bottom of my board is stained red, my leg is violently shaking of its own accord and is drenched in the vital fluid, seeping quickly from the deep gashes in my skin.

"SHARK!" The shout from those around me spreads like wildfire, alert calls echoing to each other.

Their shout is almost drowned out by my own, a shrill scream of agony as the salt water stings the deep gashes. I cling to the board as tightly as I'm able, not wanting to sink into the water and either be devoured or drown. I'm not sure which will come first, but as darkness descends over my vision and shouted curses float around me, I realise that I don't care which happens, as long as I'm unconscious at the time.


Damn, I knew I shouldn't have had that curry last night! But…when you've had a few to drink, the body wants what the body wants and last night, mine wanted curry. Now I am paying for it through the nose, or through the ass more like.

It's a good job that I'm only on a half duty today, I don't think I can bear to spend nine hours going back and forth to the lifeguard hut restroom. I just hope that I don't get caught short whilst I'm patrolling the beach.

After making full use of the deodorising spray in the restroom, I return to my usual spot of leaning on the banister, on the porch of the hut. My ass is sore and I didn't even get lucky last night, that mixed with the few beers I'd consumed, I make sure to drink down plenty of water to prevent dehydration. The sun is blazing hot today, I bet you could fry an egg on a sunbather's back.

There's a big glare on the sea from the sun today. Despite being under the shade of the hut roof, I have to wear my shades to help shield my eyes from the bright light; I don't want to be going home with eye strain and a migraine, on top of an upset stomach.

The shades make it much easier to see those in the water, swimmers and surfers. It won't do for someone to be in need of assistance and not get it due to us being unable to see them.

It's a fairly long beach, but it helps that I have eagle-eyed Jasper on duty with me today. He's been a lifeguard on this beach for six summers in a row, this is his seventh. He knows the beach better than the rest of us, which is very handy since this is my first year on this particular beach.

Unlike Jasper, I want to travel around and lifeguard anywhere that I can, seeing new places along the way. He was born and raised here though and he'd told me at the beginning of the season that all of his family are here living in the town, he doesn't want to stray far from them. I'd told him that all of my family are back in Tennessee and I couldn't have waited to get away from them.

My folks hadn't taken to my sexuality very well and after my pops had left me with a black eye and a broken nose, I'd hit the road to find somewhere better to spend my life.

I'd become a lifeguard by chance.

I'd just been spending the summer on a random beach, taking a dip in the sea to cool down, when a kid had began to drown. The boy's mother was beside herself in panic, screaming for someone to save her precious baby boy; I just happened to be nearest.

By the time the lifeguards had gotten near us, I'd hauled the boy out onto the sand and resuscitated him. I'd been hailed the hero of the day and after a free soda and a chat with the lifeguards, they told me that I was a natural and where to go to get qualified. I'd felt like I had a purpose that day. I'd meant to be right there at the right time to save that child's life.

It hasn't been an easy road though, there's still prejudice wherever you go in the world and in some situations, the second that 'gay' is mentioned, people avoid me as though I have the plague.

Not on this beach, though.

I've learned over my seven years of being alone that honesty is the best policy. When I start on a new beach, the first thing I do is introduce myself to my colleagues and let them know that I'm gay. If they have a problem with that, then they can let it out there and then. Some of them do, others don't voice it, but I can see it in the way they stare, as though I'm some kind of species they've never seen before.

It was different when I joined this beach team. I wasn't the only rookie to start this year, so that helped a little. When I easily came out to them, most just smiled and asked me if I'd checked out this bar and that bar in the town yet.

Apparently the final word had to land with Jasper, since he's the veteran of the beach. He'd studied me for a minute in silence, before shrugging and telling me that what I do with my cock and ass is my business and not to get caught behind the rock pools with any of the tourists.

That had been his final word on it.

He'd clapped me on the shoulder, welcomed me to the team, then run through all of the procedures and everything else that I needed to know. In the three weeks that I've been here with them, he's become a better friend and somewhat of a confidant.

He chose me first, as though being gay makes me a better listener.

I'd known he was pissed off about something from the second he had walked into the hut and slammed the door. It had just been me and Sam there at the time and he'd yelled at Sam to get the hell out of the hut and patrol the beach. I'd made to leave too, but in a calmer voice he'd asked me to stay.

We'd sat talking for near an hour over coffee as he opened up to me. It turned out that he has a wife and two kids, a son and a daughter. His son is sixteen and Jasper had discovered some male porn magazines in his son's room. He wasn't pissed about his kid liking to look at cocks rather than tits, it was more about him not knowing the best way to let his son know that he knows and that he is ok with it; he was upset that his son didn't feel confident enough to tell him, instead of trying to hide it.

I opened up to Jasper in return, telling him about my own folks' reaction to me coming out to them. He was shocked to hear that my mom had hauled abusive words at me, whilst my pops had beaten on me. Talking about it to someone for the first time was like a great weight being lifted from my shoulders. I told him to just be there for his kid, hint that he knows and allow the boy to tell him that he is gay, rather than forcing it from him. Really, to just be there to support him and to let him know that he is loved no matter what.

That's how I wish my coming out had been.

I feel a twisting in my stomach, considering the train of thought I'd just been on it could have been from that, but the stinging of my butt tells me otherwise. I internally groan and glance to the window of the hut behind me.

I can see Jasper sat at the desk with his binoculars, looking out over the sea to keep watch on the locals and tourists enjoying the water. He knows that I'm not well, evident by the fact that he'd been the one to toss the bottle of deodoriser at me this morning, as I'd exited the rest room. He'd said I can go home and he'd call Mike in to cover me, but I declined since I'm only on a half day.

I think I can last a little longer before my next trip to the porcelain throne. I turn my attention back to the people on the beach, trying to see if he is here today. My own personal stalker, or so he seems. When I'd asked Jasper, he told me the guy is a local…then followed it up with a reminder of one of his top rules: no getting caught fucking with someone behind the rock pools.

Maybe Jasper is more old fart than I realised, if he knew how uncomfortable it is to fuck on the sand, he wouldn't have that as one of his rules.

Besides, I don't even know if the guy swings my way. I've noticed him watching me a few times, sometimes following me along the length of the beach when I'm patrolling and offering advice to tourists and for all I know, he could just have some beef with me for a reason I don't know.

He's a little shorter than me and though he is muscular, he's skinnier too and no match if this is to come to blows. Besides, he's a surfer, I've seen him hanging with the local crowd and carrying a board to and from the beach a few times. I usually just hook up with guys from the bars, never anyone I've met on the beach and never a surfer before.

I can take him easily if it does come to a fight, but not if he turns chicken and gets all his surfing buddies to jump in and help him.

Ah, there he is, just heading into the water now. I didn't see him arrive on the beach, but then he had probably turned up when I'd been in the rest room. Despite my slight concern about his intentions, it doesn't hurt to watch him when his back is turned, as he wades into the water with his friends; is that a new board?

With each step he takes, the water rises higher up his legs, tanned by the sun and muscular from the board riding and paddling. Higher up, I notice he's wearing knee length shorts, the same red as my uniform and similar shorts to those I'm wearing right now, but wow! It seems as though he's in a pair that is one or two sizes too small, because I've never seen fabric stretch over an ass that tightly before.

I'm enjoying the sea view a lot more today.

Above the shorts, he's wearing a white sleeveless t-shirt, which is a shame. I get to see a nice view of his muscular arms, tanned like the rest of him and bulging at the slightest movement, but I have yet to see what his back and chest look like. I wonder if they're as perfectly sculpted as the rest of him.

I just lean on the banister and watch as he wades out further, then once deep enough, he flattens out onto his board and paddles out to sea. A wave forms in front of him, he grips the board and ducks under the water. When he comes out the other side, he's soaked from head to toe, his black hair glistening as the sunlight catches on the beads of water; his clothes are drenched and clinging to every inch of him.

I have to lean my hips away from the banister to keep the friction to a minimum in my shorts.

I watch as he ducks under a few more waves, until he reaches his friends out the back of the surfing area. He moves to sit up straight and dangles his legs into the water, sitting astride the board. It's definitely a new board, his back is to me and the shorts stretch gloriously across his ass as he sits there, more stretched than I've seen before.

I trust that Jasper is keeping watch from the window behind me, allowing me plenty of ogling time on the surfer. The current of the sea turns him so that he's sideways on and when the waves begin to roll in, he takes the third one and rides it towards the beach. I notice his head look up in my direction, as though having sought me out, but when he reaches the shallows he turns and paddles out once again.

I watch him do this a couple of times, until my unsettled stomach yells for attention and I have to retreat to the restroom.

When I come back out a while later, Jasper asks if I'm doing ok as he tosses me a fresh bottle of water from the fridge. He says I can go home if I'm that bad, but I'm starting to feel better now and tell him as much. He just nods and watches me step back out onto the porch.

He's sat out at the back again, his legs in the water as he waits for some more waves to roll in, but I remind myself that I'm here to work and not ogle just one person. I scour the beach to make sure everyone is ok. There's two others on duty with us today, Alec and Demetri.

Demetri is standing by the jet ski and tinkering with the engine. He loves to ride out on it and it's often a verbal fight with him to get my turn on it. Alec is leaning against the inflatable rescue boat, his hands in his pockets as he eyes up the tanning girls in their bikinis.

Suddenly the alarm behind me starts blaring loudly, making me jump and almost shit my shorts, despite there not possibly being anymore left in my body. The second it began, there was frantic movement everywhere; it's the shark warning alarm and Jasper had hit the button.

"Surfer down out the back, you're going to need this." Jasper is at my side with the first aid bag and thrusts it into my arms, before I'd even had chance to take a step.

I barely have time to give him a nod before I'm running towards the guys at the boat. There's chaos everywhere as people on the beach hurry further up the sand, making room for those that are exiting the water. As I make it to the boat, Jasper's voice comes over the loud speaker as he urges everyone out of the water and to remain calm.

Demetri already has the jet ski at the water's edge and I throw the medical bag into the boat, helping Alec push it into the water. As he takes the wheel and starts the engine, I jump into the front and direct him where to aim the boat. We pass surfers on our way out to the back, some of them riding the waves in to get to shore quicker, others paddling as fast as they can. I try to see if any of the faces is that of my stalker, but he's not amongst them.

Demetri circles the boat and yells that there's two surfers out the back, one wounded and the other trying to help him, he then rides away to circle the shallows and make sure that everyone gets out of the water unharmed.

When we reach the surfers, my mind only has time to register two things.

The wounded surfer is my stalker.

His leg is bleeding furiously into the water and he needs emergency help.

Alec brings the boat as close as he can, so I'm able to lean over the side and help to haul the unharmed man into the boat first, before he helps me to pull in his friend; the boards are left abandoned in the water.

There's shouting going on around me, between the friend and Alec as they try to be heard over the boat's engine, but my focus is purely on the man lying unconscious in front of me. I grab the medical bag and pull out reams of bandages and sterile cloths.

It's awkward at first, but I manage to hold the cloths tightly to the wounds and pin them in place by wrapping the bandages around just as tightly. There's blood everywhere, in the boat, on me and soaking through the bandages. I have to grab more cloths and hold them to the worst areas as the friend's words echo around my head.

Tiger shark.

I don't have time to worry or care if the creature is still nearby. The guy lying before me is in a bad way. I lift up his leg and shuffle closer, resting the back of his ankle to my shoulder as I keep a tight pressure to his leg.

I shout to Alec to let him know we need to hurry and it is safe for the patient for the boat to begin moving. I keep the pressure on the wounds as the boat turns and heads for shore. With the guy's leg elevated and nothing more I can do for him just now, I take the time to finally look at him up close.

His black hair is limp and soaked, sticking to his face in the areas that it's too long. His face is bronzed with a tan like the rest of him and I can make out a strange tattoo on his upper arm. He looks so peaceful, but I know it's only the unconsciousness.

The boat hits a bump in the water, causing me to jolt forward on my knees and with his leg perched on my shoulder, my crotch ends up connecting with his slightly spread ass. It had to happen right at the moment when my roaming eyes had landed on the logo of his t-shirt. 'Mr Zog's Sex Wax', the 'sex' word standing out a mile to my eyes. That word and the connection of my cock to his ass would have caused me to harden, if not for the severity of the situation.

When we land on the beach, the scream of sirens in the background comforts me a small amount. Jasper must have called for an ambulance. Help is on its way for my stalker.

The friend is ordered out of the boat and as I stay as I am, with my hips now pulled back to a decent distance, Alec jumps out of the boat and has Demetri help to pull it a little further onto the sand; enough so that the tide won't wash it back out.

I can hear my colleagues shouting at the crowd to move back and make room for the emergency services to get down to the boat. I keep my head down though, keeping a watch on the rise and fall of the 'sex' clad chest in front of me, making sure that he continues to breathe.

When the emergency personnel finally reach us, I tell them all I know as I move from my position. His leg is unbound and I can see that the gashes are deep, but thanks to my quick actions and medical training, the bleeding has almost stopped.

Once he is rebound properly and loaded onto a stretcher, Alec uses a borrowed sandcastle bucket to throw water into the boat, washing the blood off the floor of it. In my blood stained state, I follow them as far as the hut and stand watching as my stalker is loaded into the back of the ambulance and driven away.

With nothing more that I can do, Jasper talks me into using the staff shower room to clean off all the blood, whilst he gets the newly arrived Mike to fetch me some fresh clothes from my locker.

Over a week later, it's the last official day of summer and the beach is quieter than usual. I know that when my shift ends in an hour, it'll be the last time that I work on this beach. I'm heading for a new location for next summer and I don't know if I'll even see this beach or my summer colleagues again. I hope to one day, as Jasper is the best guy I've met since being kicked out of my home back in Tennessee.

With not a lot to be done today, I just sit on the steps of the hut and soak up the last rays of the hot sun, my shirt removed so that I can get an even tan. I don't know where I'm heading to next, likely somewhere further in the north to find work until the next summer, so I'd like a tan to last a while yet.

I throw my head back to take a long drink of water, when movement at the corner of my eye catches my attention. Turning my head to see what it is, I'm both shocked and surprised when I see a familiar bronzed person hobbling towards me. I hadn't known what had become of him, for all I'd known he could have bled to death, or have still been in the hospital.

But here he is, limping towards me on a pair of crutches, his leg still bandaged following the shark attack. He has a shy smile on his face and shades covering his eyes. I don't even know what colour his eyes are, having only seen him up close once and they'd been closed; unconscious.

I stand as he approaches, jabbing the sand carefully with the crutches for sturdiness, before each step that he takes. He's even wearing the same shorts and t-shirt that he'd worn on the day of the attack. 'Sex' stands out in large letters on his chest, but I have to remind myself that he's likely not that way inclined.

"Um…hey." His voice almost sounds uncertain.

As he takes the last step towards me, one of the crutches sinks deeper into the soft sand and he almost falls. I'm there like a shot, catching him as he falls against my chest, I steady him until he has his balance back.

"Thanks." His stumble has added to his shyness, but he has manners.

"You're welcome." I reply, just as quietly, so as not to scare him away.

An awkward silence stretches between us and as he balances on one crutch, his hand raises to run through his hair, that had grown a bit longer since I'd last seen him; it suits him at this length.

"You're looking a lot better since the last time I saw you." I don't like the silence much, or the tension coming with it, so I have to say something and that's the first that comes to mind.

"Um…yeah. My friend, Seth, said that you're the one who pulled me out of the water and helped me. I could have lost my leg or bled to death if not for you." His voice continues to be meek.

I try to watch his eyes. Now that he is closer, I can see that his shades aren't too dark to not be able to see his eyes, just not the colour of them and as he speaks, they flick in several directions.

"Well, that's what I'm trained for; saving lives." It's the truth, I don't see myself as anything special, just for having saved him.

"Oh…" There is a hesitance to his voice, almost like a faint stutter of nerves.

There's almost a sadness to that single word and if possible, it seems that his shoulders sink, as though he is disheartened by my response.

"Anyway, I wanted to come and thank you for saving my life." His eyes gaze downwards as his words come out as a mumble.

The hand that he had run through his hair, reaches towards me to offer a handshake in gratitude, but his head stays lowered. I realise his eyes are in line sight of my waistband, where a dark line of hair plunges underneath to my clothed crotch. As he watches, I notice the tip of his tongue peek out faintly to rest between his lips and my mind is made up.

"How about you thank me over a couple of beers and we get to know each other a little better?" I ignore his hand shake.

"Are you…" His gaze flicks up to meet mine, his lips parting a little in surprise.

I'm nodding before he can finish his question, confirming his unasked query about my sexuality before he can ask it. The shyness fades as though my confirmation is the key to break a spell. He smiles, lowering his hand that had been hovering between us and he nods.

"I get off in an hour, I can meet you in town if you want, just name a place." I don't want to scare him aware, so I leave the choice of venue to him.

His smile widens and I can see him growing more confident in his demeanour, as well as in his shorts. After naming a place and getting my assurance that I'll be there, he grips his crutches and begins turning to head back up the beach towards town.

He stops after barely taking two steps and glances back to me. For a moment, I think he's changed his mind, but his spreading smile shows that he hasn't.

"What's your name anyway?" An eyebrow raises above the lens of his shades.

Idiot! Of course, here I am arranging to go drinking with a guy I've been eyeing for the past few weeks and we don't even know each other's names.

"Emmett…Emmett McCarty." He smiles at the sound of my name and I see his lips silently form the words, testing it for himself.

"I'm Paul Lahote. I'll see you in an hour, Emmett."