"That," he says, with heartfelt relief, "is a great idea."

There's still the question of getting safely into the water, but presented with the option, and as desperate as his body and lust-tinged mind have become, he's got no further hesitation. He shucks his shirt over his head in a quick, careless motion, revealing lean, toned muscles shaped by countless hours of travel and training.

Then, with a quick, resolved breath, he unbuckles his jeans and kicks them off, thumbs hooking through compression shorts and athletic strap to peel them away at the same time. Beneath, he's clean-shaven (because there is no discomfort worse than a stray curl catching in an athletic strap in the middle of a stretch), cock pressed flat against his stomach already.

Five quick strides from the low tide-line, and he's hip-deep in the lukewarm water of the cover, looking back over his shoulder at Zelda with eager longing.