Harmony and Dissonance

They swam around the edge of rocks at one end of the cove, where they found a sheltered stretch of sand. Lars stood at the edge of the surf, foam rolling beyond his planted feet and then back into the ocean, as Krit was joined with him at their pelvises, his torso arched back toward the sands of the beach, his knuckles barely touching the sand, while Lars grabbed his buttocks and pulled him on and off the cock to a second ejaculation.

Afterward, Lars lay on top of Krit, between his thighs, and they kissed repeatedly.

“You will pack and return to Germany with me after the concert,” Lars whispered.

“I cannot. My life is here now—with Somsri and with my music.”

Lars entered him again and fucked him for a third time—more roughly this time, with Krit writhing under him, crying out—but crying out for the fuck rather than in opposition to the rough fucking.

“You can’t get enough of it. You know what you want. You will have to return with me.”

“No. I do want you—again and again. You can have me anytime you want. I will seek you out as long as you are in Thailand. But I won’t go back.”