Cedar for Moonbeam

“Nah,” Cedar said, standing and pulling her up with him. “My etchings are terrible. My shack’s got a real bed, though.” He kept hold of her hand for the short walk up the beach to a tiny wooden structure perched on stilts. It looked like a strong breeze might send it tumbling into the sea. Inside, though, it was clean and cozy – surfboards leaned against one wall, a small wood stove sat in the corner, and a wide bed draped in soft, faded linens took up most of the space. Cedar let go of her hand to crank open the big windows, letting in the cool ocean breeze and the rhythmic sigh of the waves. “Told you. Excellent moon.”

He turned to face her, his expression open, waiting. No pressure, just invitation. Thalia’s breath caught. She crossed the small space between them, went up on her toes, and kissed him. This time there was no hesitation. Her hands fisted in his hoodie, yanking him closer as her mouth moved urgently over his. Cedar made a low, approving sound in his throat, his arms sliding around her waist to lift her. Thalia wrapped her legs around his hips, groaning as his hardness pressed against her core. He walked them backwards until her spine met the cool wood of the door. “Fuck, Thalia,” he rasped against her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “You feel incredible.”

“And you talk too much,” Thalia gasped, canting her hips against his. Cedar laughed, the sound rich and warm against her skin. He carried her to the bed, laying her down on the soft sheets without breaking the kiss. His hands skimmed up under her t-shirt, calloused palms mapping her ribs before pushing the fabric up and over her head. He paused, his eyes darkening as he took her in. “God, look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick. He bent his head, sucking a nipple into his mouth through the lace of her bra. Thalia’s back arched off the bed, her fingers knotting in his sun-bleached hair. “Cedar—”

“Lie back, gorgeous,” he said against her breast. “I’ve got plans for you.” He worked his way down her body, kissing and nipping, his hands deftly unbuttoning her jeans and peeling them down her legs. He hooked her knees over his shoulders, his breath brushing her inner thigh. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, and then his mouth was on her, hot and slow and devastating. Thalia cried out, her hands fisting the sheets as his tongue circled her clit with perfect, patient pressure. He worked her with an intensity that had her trembling, his hands holding her hips steady as he drove her up and over the edge. She came with a harsh sob, her body shuddering against his mouth.

Cedar kissed his way back up her body, his lips shiny with her release. He hovered over her on his elbows, his eyes searching her face. “Okay?” he asked, his voice rough. Thalia could only nod, her bones feeling liquid. He smiled, sweet and wicked all at once, and reached for the condom on the bedside table. Thalia stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Let me,” she said, her voice husky. She pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips as she made quick work of his jeans and boxer briefs. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, and Thalia wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly. Cedar’s head fell back against the pillows, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Jesus, Thalia—”

She bent and took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head before sinking down as far as she could. Cedar’s hips bucked, his hands fisting in her hair. “Fuck, your mouth,” he groaned. “So good, baby.” Thalia worked him with deep, sucking pulls, relishing the way his thighs trembled under her hands. When she pulled off, licking her lips, Cedar’s eyes were wild. “Condom,” he rasped. “Now.”

Thalia rolled the latex down his length with deliberate slowness, enjoying the way his muscles tensed. Then she climbed back on top, sinking down onto him in one smooth, deep motion. They both moaned as he filled her, Cedar’s hands flying to her hips. “Move,” he begged, his voice frayed. “Need to feel you move.” Thalia obliged, rolling her hips in a slow, grinding rhythm that had stars sparking behind her eyes. Cedar met her thrust for thrust, his thumb finding her clit and circling with perfect pressure. “That’s it,” he urged, his voice low and filthy. “Take what you need, gorgeous. Ride my cock.” His words, raw and worshipful, sent Thalia hurtling over the edge again. She came with a cry, her body clenching around him. Cedar followed a moment later, his head thrown back, her name a prayer on his lips.

After, he wrapped her in a soft blanket and produced a container of fresh strawberries from a tiny fridge. Thalia lay sprawled across his chest, the ocean breeze cool on her overheated skin. “This is ridiculous,” she said, accepting a berry from his fingers. “You’re ridiculous.”

Cedar kissed her sticky fingertips. “Ridiculously good at making you come, you mean.” He popped a strawberry into his own mouth, his eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

Over the next month, they fell into an easy rhythm. Morning surfs followed by coffee at Thalia’s shop, Cedar perched on her work table while she arranged blooms. Nights tangled together in Cedar’s shack or Thalia’s apartment, learning each other’s bodies with single-minded focus. One rainy Tuesday, they ended up in Thalia’s flower shop after hours. Gardenias and damp earth scented the humid air, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. Cedar pressed her against a wall of cool glass, his hands rough and gentle as they mapped her skin. “Need you,” he murmured against her throat, his voice urgent. Thalia fumbled with his jeans, her breath hitching as he lifted her onto the edge of a work table. This time was urgent, hungry, Cedar driving into her with deep, powerful strokes that made the buckets of flowers rattle. “Look at me,” he growled when her eyes threatened to flutter closed. Thalia obeyed, her eyes meeting his as he thrust deep. “So fucking beautiful like this,” he said, his voice raw. “Surrounded by your flowers, taking my cock.” His words sent her flying apart, Cedar following with a groan muffled against her neck.

After, he wrapped her in a soft throw blanket he’d dug out of her back room, settling her in his lap on the floor. He fed her strawberries again, the juice staining their lips pink as they kissed between bites. Rain beat against the windows, the sound almost drowned out by the thunder of Thalia’s heart in her ears. Cedar’s arms were warm and solid around her, his chin resting on top of her head. “Okay?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. Thalia nodded, her throat tight. For the first time in a long time, she felt more than okay. She felt safe.

The fragile peace shattered two days later. They were in Cedar’s shack, rain drumming on the tin roof, when his phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. Thalia watched his expression shift as he listened, his usual easy smile tightening into something focused, intense. When he hung up, his eyes were bright with an excitement that sent a cold trickle of dread down Thalia’s spine. “That was Rip Curl,” he said, his voice hushed with awe. “They want me. Full sponsorship, six-month tour starting next month.”

Thalia’s heart stopped. Then it kicked into a frantic, painful rhythm. “Six months?” Her voice sounded thin, brittle. “You’re leaving?” The words sat there, heavy with every past disappointment, every time someone had chosen adventure over her.

Cedar’s smile faltered. “Thalia—”

“You should go,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. She scrambled off the bed, suddenly desperate to put distance between them. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d be an idiot not to take it.” Her hands shook as she gathered her scattered clothes, pulling them on with clumsy haste.

“Hey.” Cedar caught her wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding. “Stop. Talk to me.”

Thalia yanked her arm free. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’ve got your dream offer. Congratulations.” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying the fissure running through her heart.

Cedar’s expression shifted, the excitement replaced by dawning understanding. “You think I’m leaving you.” He said it quietly, a statement rather than a question.

“Aren’t you?” Thalia shot back, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. “Six months, Cedar. That’s not a vacation. That’s a life.”

Cedar stood, crossing the small space between them. He didn’t touch her, but his presence was a physical thing, warm and solid. “It’s a life,” he agreed, his voice low and steady. “But it’s not my life. Not anymore.” He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, his touch lingering. “You’re my life, Thalia. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”