A Chance Encounter (Chris Hemsworth X OMC)

A Stinging Catalyst

The following morning, Wyatt was wide awake as the sun was coming up. Without hesitation, he hopped out of bed and started his day. One green smoothie later and he was in his bathroom brushing his teeth in his new bathing suit. He spit the toothpaste into the sink and looked at himself. Never one for extreme vanity, Wyatt allowed himself to soak in all of the compliments others gave him. In the bathroom lighting, every muscular curve of his body was highlighted. He slowly turned around, looking at himself.

"Stop checking yourself out, you freak," Allie said from the doorway.

"Good morning to you, too."

Allie yawned. "Where's Chris? I was sure he'd be in here with you."

Wyatt explained what had taken place as he applied some sunscreen.

"Well, what are you standing around in here for? Get out there and get your man, you whore," she said as she gave his ass a slap.

The air was warm and a gentle, salty breeze was blowing as Wyatt laid a beach towel down. He lay across it and pulled a paperback from the beach bag he'd brought with him. He cracked open a La Croix and began to read as the sunlight spilled in through the dense morning clouds.

Lost in the tight suspense of the thriller he was reading, he was only just conscious of Chris's presence before the Aussie gave a cheerful good morning, his deep voice sliding across Wyatt's focus, and immediately luring him away from his book.

"Reading anything good?" He asked as he sat down on the towel beside him and gazed at the cover.

"It's part of this crime thriller series," Wyatt explained. "The main character just found out she's being followed by a serial killer."

Chris chuckled. "You like suspense?"

"Oh, I love suspense."

"Like the suspense I left you in last night?" Chris asked with a guilty expression.

Wyatt smiled and slipped a bookmark into the paperback before putting it back in the bag. He looked up at Chris, who stood before him in board shorts. "I'm not so sure about that kind of suspense," he said before taking another sip from his drink.

Chris frowned and reached for the can, gently pulling it from Wyatt's hand. "Oh, man. You drink this stuff?"

Wyatt sat up a little. "What's wrong with it?"

"Well, it's hairspray, for starters," Chris laughed.

"It's an acquired taste," Wyatt jokingly defended. "It's refreshing."

"So is just about every other cold drink under the sun. This is the devil's piss. I can't let you torture yourself drinking it."

Wyatt reached for the can and Chris drew back. "Give it back to me," Wyatt playfully begged.

"Not a chance, mate," Chris said as he stood up and backed away. He held the can behind his back.

"Fine, I have more," Wyatt said as he turned around and bent over his cooler.

Chris cleared the distance between them and yanked Wyatt back with one arm wrapped around his waist. He pulled him against his chest. "No," he said in a dramatic voice. "I won't let you torture yourself any more!"