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[brooklynislandgirl]

What’s your wildest fantasy?

A Little Light/A Little Dark || -

Luka is home. And for the next six weeks before he rotates out, she can enjoy his company and not worry about what might be happening to him while he's on duty, or what might happen when he's off. Not that she ever worries about Luka finding 'a bit of strange' as Andy calls it in whatever town rises up around bases, or from other sailors on other ships. It doesn't even occur to her that bunk-mate might not be a euphemism. Neither does Luka have to worry that Beth is going to turn out like the Jersey Devil. First, Beth hated Jersey. Secondly, she wasn't tempted by earthly pleasures on her best day, and she couldn't imagine doing those kinds of things with people she doesn't know. Secondly, it's been three years and Beth hasn't even written to anyone else.

But mostly, it's all in the way she smiles down at his face as his head is nestled in her lap, and she's lazily dragging her nails down his scalp, leaving little furrows through his hair. It's getting a little long, and he'll probably buzz it before the month is out. And maybe she's a little disappointed that he keeps his eyes closed when he asks his question. Slow. Deep. That barely half-awake tone to his voice that really melts her bones.

Never let it be said though that Beth doesn't put up a good fight. She looks away from his face, eyes going toward the window of his apartment over looking the same street as hers. The lights over there are dim, and she can imagine the same soft instrumental radio on the stereo that she's playing here, where beer or whiskey replaces wine. "Oh, dat's easy. M' biggest fan'asy revolve around O'ahu. Jus' bein' back home. Sun slowly risin' ovah Pūpūkea. Every kine still as da waves drift in an' out." She mimics the motion with her hand, though one parts ways with his hair to fall onto his chest, just over his heart. "An' jus' when every kine turns gold an' da first swells really start going, pick up my board an' race across da sand, launching into dat immaculate water. Followed of course...by Da Admiral. Who wipes out on a rip tide and gets pulled undah, leavin' his board afloat cause he too stupid to lissen to me when I tell him put his leash on an' he get suck out to sea where Search an' Rescue cutters nevah find his body which got sucked along until he was deposited at da bottom of Marianas Trench an' became ono grindz for da dwellers in da deep."

Truthfully, that is the thing that Beth really does fantasise the most about, the different ways that the Admiral is murdered ~justly~ by the ocean, a truer and more loyal and loving a mother than she's ever really had. But Beth also knows that's not what Luka was asking and she can't help but to laugh a little. "Jus' playin', ya know. Okay so...for reals. Uhm." She tucks her lower lip back over her lower teeth and flicks her tongue across it a couple times, steeling her nerves. Letters from Beth are almost always sweet and can be read as platonic by anyone who doesn't really know her. Phone calls are similar, and there's always a little demure shyness when he's with her in person. As she absently considers her answer, her hand begins to drift southward down the broad expanse of his chest, and stops only when she reaches the washboard of his abs. "So dere's all dese movies, right? Where at da end, da sailor come sweepin' in and dey always officers, right? An' da girl always has dis manual labour or menial office job. Anyway, here he come wearin' his Full Dress whites, usually wi' da sabre...an' yes, I know dat's only f' officers....but he come sweeping in an' scoop her up an' bridal carry her away from whatevah she was doin''...wi' da cheers an' applause of her coworkers. An' den she usually reach up an' take his lid off an eiddah wear it herself or waves it around while try f' kiss him. An' I'm alla way dere, ya know. I want dat too. But den I wan wha' comes aftah, ya know? Get t' da car or truck. Struggle f' get da door open. "Alla'while, tearin' an' scratchin' an' pullin. Try to get as much flesh as can, because if can....can. Da feel of cool leather seat on bare back skin. Scrunchin' up skirts until dey pool around hips like multi-coloured cotton candy. No can wait t' get under-kine off. Just rip it, pull it aside or whatevah. An' I'm gonna be honest, Lulu, I wan....I want dat moment of almos' animalistic ruttin', because da passion is so ovahwhelmin' an' no one cares if someone see 'em li'dat..." Her hand begins to curl into an involuntary fist, dragging her nails across his belly. There's a little catch in her breath and a shiver pulses through her that cannot be politely ignored, especially not with the way her pulse begins to race. She clears her throat. "Uhm. Yeah. Dat."

[brooklynislandgirl]