Chapter Fourteen #2
The feeling of me filling him up seems to be the final push he needs. I reach around, knock his hand away, and take over… wrapping my fist around his cock and stroking him fast and rough, making sure the head keeps dragging through that slippery moss with every pull.
Andrew lets out a broken cry, his whole body seizing up as he comes hard, shooting across the moss and my fingers in messy, pulsing spurts. His hole clenches rhythmically around my cock, milking every last drop out of me while he shakes and whimpers through it.
We stay locked together for a long moment, both of us panting, sweat cooling on our skin in the morning air.
Then Andrew lets out a breathless, shaky laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezes, still bent over the log. “I just got fucked on a log… while humping a patch of moss like a horny raccoon. This is the weirdest fucking trip I’ve ever been on.”
I can’t help it, I laugh too, pressing a kiss to the back of his sweaty neck as I slowly pull out of him, watching my come start to leak down his thighs .
“Only you, baby,” I murmur, still grinning. “Only you.”
…
The trail is quiet except for the crunch of our boots on the dirt path and the occasional call of a bird overhead.
We packed up the tent and all our gear after breakfast, and now we’re heading higher up the mountain for better views tonight.
The air is crisp and clean, carrying the sharp scent of pine and distant wildflowers.
Sunlight filters through the canopy in shifting golden patches.
Andrew walks a few steps ahead of me, backpack straps snug across his shoulders. Every so often he glances back at me with a small, private smile that makes something warm and unfamiliar bloom in my chest.
He slows down until we’re walking side by side. I let my fingers catch his, lacing them together without a word. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezes once, gentle and sure, and keeps walking.
After a while the trees start to thin out and the trail opens up to a rocky overlook. The view is staggering… rolling green mountains stretching out forever under a bright blue sky. Andrew stops at the edge, placing his bag down, breathing a little harder from the climb, and just stares.
“Damn,” he says softly. “It’s beautiful up here.”
I step up behind him, close enough that my chest brushes his back.
I wrap one arm around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder.
He leans back into me without hesitation, his free hand coming up to rest over mine where it sits on his stomach.
We stand like that for a long time, just breathing together, watching the wind move through the treetops far below. No rush. No one around. No pretending.
Andrew turns his head slightly, his temple brushing my jaw. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me too,” I murmur, pressing a slow kiss to the side of his head. I let my lips linger there, breathing him in, the faint smell of his shampoo mixed with sweat and fresh mountain air.
He turns in my arms until we’re facing each other. His hands come up to rest on my chest, fingers curling lightly into my shirt. For a moment he just looks at me, eyes soft and open in a way I’ve never seen before.
Then he smiles, small, almost shy, and leans in to kiss me. It’s slow and sweet, nothing like the desperate, hungry kisses we usually share. This one feels different, like he’s trying to tell me something without using words.
When we pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed. “I don’t want to go back down tomorrow,” he whispers.
I huff a quiet laugh, my arms tightening around his waist. “We have to eventually. But we’ve still got tonight.”
He nods, then pulls back just enough to look at me again. His thumbs stroke gently over my chest. “Thank you for bringing me up here,” he says softly. “For… all of it. ”
I don’t know how to answer that without saying too much, so I just kiss him again, slower this time, letting it linger until we’re both a little breathless.
We stand here on the overlook for a long while, wrapped up in each other, backpacks still on our shoulders, the whole world spread out below us.
…
The fire pops and snaps cheerfully in the stone ring, casting flickering golden light across the small clearing.
We’ve already demolished the burgers we cooked on the little portable stove, and the empty beer bottles are lined up like trophies beside the log we’re using as a bench.
The night air is cool and clean, carrying the sharp scent of pine and woodsmoke.
Andrew is sprawled half against me, one leg kicked out toward the fire, the other bent so his knee rests against my thigh. He’s on his third beer and clearly feeling it, cheeks flushed, that signature cocky grin firmly in place.
“You know,” he says, gesturing with the bottle, “for a guy who spends all day covered in motor oil and yelling at old cars, you grill a surprisingly decent burger.”
I let out a deep, rumbling laugh that shakes my chest. The sound always seems to hit Andrew right in the ribs; I can feel him trying, and failing, to keep his smirk from softening.
“Surprisingly decent?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “High praise coming from the guy who burned toast so bad last month that the fire alarm thought we were under attack.”
Andrew snorts, nudging my shoulder with his. “That was one time! And in my defence, I was distracted.”
“Distracted by what? Your phone?”
“By you walking around the kitchen shirtless,” he shoots back without missing a beat, then immediately tries to play it cool by taking another swig of beer.
I laugh again, louder this time, the deep belly laugh that always seems to disarm even his cockiest moods. Andrew’s ears go pink and he ducks his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “shut up.”
I reach over and ruffle his hair roughly, messing it up even more than the hike already had. “Careful, smartass. Keep talking like that and I’ll make you cook breakfast tomorrow.”
He bats my hand away, grinning. “You wouldn’t dare. You know I’ll just burn the eggs on purpose and blame it on the mountain air.”
“ Mountain air?” I chuckle, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him in closer. “We’re barely two thousand feet up, you dramatic little shit.”
Andrew leans into me willingly, his head dropping to rest against my shoulder as the fire crackles between us. For a moment he’s quiet, the usual cocky energy softening into something warmer, more content.
“This is nice,” he says after a while, voice quieter. “Just us. ”
I hum in agreement, my hand rubbing slow circles on his upper arm. “Yeah. It is.”