[ Flint's beachwear is, predictably, significantly less elaborate. A pair of swim shorts, in his signature green. Complete with stripes. He did spend a while trying out poses in front of a mirror, however, making sure he looks good in them. That's debatable, but he is pretty sure he looks like a big beast of a man, and that is the same thing if you ask him.
He gets a thrill from watching her pay like an aristocrat ("how much could one drink cost, Flint? $10?"). He's a plutomaniac and isn't shy about it. ]
Sometimes, a guy has just gotta do what he feels like. Otherwise, what's the point?
[ The bartender (cabanatender?) seems to know Flint and thus doesn't bat an eye when he pulls off a sand trick- specifically, the steep cliff the cabana is on suddenly isn't so steep, the sand on the otherwise inaccessible patch of beach crawling up the cliff face to form a spiral staircase. That's where the privacy comes in. He comes here often. It's a good place to think.
He takes a sip of his fruity drink (with an umbrella, this is mandatory) before stepping on the stairs and offering an arm to help her down them. As if she needs it. ]
And I felt like gettin' friendly a whole bunch, babe.
I do hope that's a promise. [She takes his arm and makes like the arm candy she's dressed as, pressing herself as close as possible without restricting any mobility.
Evidently, she likes the shorts- or at least how he looks in them, since her hand wanders down to grope his backside with a possessive grip for a brief moment once they're at the cabana. At least she waited until they were on solid ground that wasn't of his making.]
[ The second his bare feet make contact with the ground floor, the staircase spins its way back into the beach, spreading out like it never happened. It's quite a beautiful place, hidden under the cliff with a build-up of rock on either side. You could probably swim out there, but it'd take a lot of effort.
Also the second (or at least it feels so) he get his ass grabbed. There's plenty to grab- as the kids say, Flint is Dummy Thicc. Say what you will about his appearance, but he sure does fill out whatever he wears. ]
Woah-ho ho! [ It's a sound that starts as pure surprise and becomes a pleasant surprise pretty quickly. ] Keep that up and it's gonna be written in stone, babe.
[ He decides to be bold himself, placing one of those huge hands of his on her chin to go for a quick, heavy kiss. Just to show he's not a dead fish. ]
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no subject
He gets a thrill from watching her pay like an aristocrat ("how much could one drink cost, Flint? $10?"). He's a plutomaniac and isn't shy about it. ]
Sometimes, a guy has just gotta do what he feels like. Otherwise, what's the point?
[ The bartender (cabanatender?) seems to know Flint and thus doesn't bat an eye when he pulls off a sand trick- specifically, the steep cliff the cabana is on suddenly isn't so steep, the sand on the otherwise inaccessible patch of beach crawling up the cliff face to form a spiral staircase. That's where the privacy comes in. He comes here often. It's a good place to think.
He takes a sip of his fruity drink (with an umbrella, this is mandatory) before stepping on the stairs and offering an arm to help her down them. As if she needs it. ]
And I felt like gettin' friendly a whole bunch, babe.
no subject
Evidently, she likes the shorts- or at least how he looks in them, since her hand wanders down to grope his backside with a possessive grip for a brief moment once they're at the cabana. At least she waited until they were on solid ground that wasn't of his making.]
no subject
Also the second (or at least it feels so) he get his ass grabbed. There's plenty to grab- as the kids say, Flint is Dummy Thicc. Say what you will about his appearance, but he sure does fill out whatever he wears. ]
Woah-ho ho! [ It's a sound that starts as pure surprise and becomes a pleasant surprise pretty quickly. ] Keep that up and it's gonna be written in stone, babe.
[ He decides to be bold himself, placing one of those huge hands of his on her chin to go for a quick, heavy kiss. Just to show he's not a dead fish. ]