The beach cheat
Salt, Silk, and Sapphire
The walk back to the rented beach house was a blur of golden twilight and heavy-limbed exhaustion. The structure was a modern marvel of glass and cedar, perched precariously on the cliffs overlooking the now-darkening Pacific. Inside, the air-conditioning hit our sun-warmed skin like a physical shock, making Sue shiver and Sai let out a small, appreciative hum. We didn't bother with the lights; the moon was already beginning to spill silver onto the hardwood floors.
"I feel like I'm made of salt and SPF fifty," Sue whispered, her voice still carry that post-climactic rasp. She leaned against the kitchen island, her white bikini strings dangling loosely. "I don't think I can even make it to the bed without a rinse."
Sai, ever the predator even when spent, smirked as she draped her violet hair over one shoulder. She looked at me, her purple-painted toes tapping a rhythmic beat on the floor. "I believe the master bathroom has a walk-in shower large enough for a small army. Or, at the very least, three people with very specific needs."
I didn't need further prompting. I took each of them by the hand, leading them down the hallway. The bathroom was a sanctuary of slate and chrome, dominated by a rainfall showerhead that promised to wash away the grit of the cove. I turned the handle, waiting for the steam to begin curling against the glass partitions.
We stripped away the remnants of our swimwear in a tangle of limbs and soft laughter. Seeing them under the artificial light of the bathroom was a different kind of intoxication. Sue’s hourglass figure was a masterpiece of soft, maternal curves and hidden strength, her white-painted nails glowing against her thighs. Sai was a contrast of hard lines and lethal grace, her amethyst-painted nails a dark promise against her bronzed skin.
We stepped into the spray together. The warm water cascaded over us, sluicing away the sand and the dried lotion. I grabbed a bottle of expensive, sandalwood-scented body wash, lathering it between my palms before turning my attention to Sai.
"Turn around," I commanded.
She obeyed instantly, pressing her palms against the cool slate wall. The water slicked her purple hair down her back like a silken cape. I worked the soap over her shoulders and down to the tight, muscular swell of her glutes. The friction of the soap made her skin incredibly slippery, a dangerous invitation.
"Sue," Sai gasped, her breath hitching as the water hit her face. "Don't just stand there. I'm feeling... unattended in the front."
Sue stepped forward, her blue eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't been fully sated on the beach. She knelt in the spray, the water drenching her golden hair until it looked like spun brass. She looked up at me for a brief second, a silent question in her eyes, before she leaned in.
While I focused on the back, Sue focused on the front. Her white-painted fingers parted Sai’s folds, and she began to taste the ninja with a slow, rhythmic devotion. The sound of the water hitting the floor was joined by the wet, rhythmic sounds of Sue’s tongue and Sai’s increasingly frantic moans.
"I can't... I can't stand," Sai whimpered, her knees buckling slightly.
I reached forward, gripping her hips to steady her. I didn't want the soft surrender of the afternoon; I wanted the raw, demanding heat of the evening. I guided myself to her rear, the soap and the water providing more than enough lubrication. With a firm, steady pressure, I pushed forward.
Sai let out a sharp, jagged cry that echoed off the tiles. It wasn't a sound of pain, but of a profound, soul-deep recognition. Her internal muscles, honed by years of martial arts, clamped down on me with a ferocity that made my vision swim.
"Yes," she hissed, her forehead thumping against the slate. "Break me. Make me forget my own name."
I began to move, my rhythm hard and uncompromising. Every thrust sent her forward into Sue’s waiting mouth. It was a perfect circuit of pleasure. I watched as Sue’s hands moved up to cup Sai’s breasts, her thumbs teasing the dark nipples while her tongue continued its relentless work below. The sight of the two of them—the golden light of Sue and the dark violet shadow of Sai—entwined in the steam was something no comic book could ever capture.
"You're so tight, Sai," I groaned, my hands moving to her waist to pull her back against me even harder.
Sue looked up, her face glistening with water and Sai’s essence. "She’s perfect," Sue whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the shower. "She’s absolutely perfect."
Sue redoubled her efforts, her tongue flicking with a speed that sent Sai over the edge. The telepath’s body went rigid, a silent psychic scream likely echoing in the minds of anyone within a mile. Her walls spasmed around me, milking me with a desperate, rhythmic intensity that I couldn't fight. I finished deep inside her, my forehead resting against the back of her neck as the hot water continued to pour over us both.
We stood there for a long time, the steam thick enough to hide the world outside the glass. Eventually, the water ran cooler, and the frantic energy of the day began to settle into a deep, heavy contentment. We dried each other off with oversized, fluffy towels, the touches now lingering and soft rather than demanding.
"I think," Sue said, wrapping a towel around her damp hair like a turban, "that I might actually sleep for a thousand years."
"Not yet," Sai murmured, her voice a low vibration. She looked at me, her violet eyes soft. "We have a very large bed that is currently going to waste."
The master bedroom featured a king-sized bed with silk sheets that felt like cool water against our sensitized skin. We didn't bother with pajamas; the night was warm, and the feeling of skin-on-skin was a luxury we weren't ready to give up.
I climbed into the middle, the mattress dipping under my weight. Sue crawled in on my left, her "mommy" warmth radiating off her like a hearth. She curled into my side, resting her head on my chest, her white-toenails brushing against my ankle.
"Today was... unexpected," Sue whispered, her hand tracing patterns over my ribs. "I haven't felt this alive in years. Thank you for including me."
"You were never an afterthought, Susan," I replied, kissing the top of her head. "You were exactly what we were missing."
On my right, Sai slid under the sheets with the silence of a shadow. She didn't curl up like Sue; she draped herself over me, her leg hooking over mine and her arm draped across my stomach. Her purple hair was a fragrant silk curtain across my shoulder.
"She’s right, you know," Sai murmured, her voice drifting toward sleep. "You’ve ruined us for anyone else. I hope you're prepared for the consequences of your actions."
"I think I can handle it," I said, my own eyes growing heavy.
I lay there in the dark, the rhythm of the ocean outside matching the synchronized breathing of the two women. On one side, the soft, nurturing strength of Susan Storm; on the other, the sharp, dangerous devotion of Betsy Braddock. I was the anchor between the gold and the violet, the center of a private universe that had expanded in ways I never could have imagined when we first stepped onto that beach.
As sleep finally claimed us, the last thing I felt was Sue’s hand finding Sai’s across my chest, their fingers interlocking—white nails against purple—forming a circle that I knew wouldn't be broken when the sun rose again.