1. Dylan
Dylan
Eight years later
The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting golden rays that flashed through the trees alongside the winding road. With my hands on the steering wheel and the wind in my hair, I focused on the words of Carly Simon coming from my speakers.
That was better than thinking about why I was heading into the wilderness, otherwise known as taking a break from the reality that was my disaster of a life.
The tall pines, their silhouettes dark against the vibrant sky, were like sentinels guarding the memories of my childhood. I took a deep breath and let it out. The air up here was so much clearer than the city. The familiar scents of the woods brought a calmness to my scattered brain.
This was going to be good for me.
I turned off the smooth two-lane highway and onto a pothole-ridden gravel road, giving my truck’s shocks—and my balls—a rude awakening. A glimmer of the lake peeked through the trees.
Shit!
I slammed on my brakes to avoid the deer that darted in front of me and winced as the groceries slid off the front seat, crashing onto the floor.
Surveying the damage without rummaging through the aftermath, I couldn’t find the eggs but hoped they made it.
Going all the way back into town to replace them would be a hassle I didn’t want right now.
But at least the deer survived.
I gently pressed the accelerator and my truck lurched forward. A few more minutes and the cabin should come into view.
I hadn’t been here in a few years, but I used to come here every summer with my mom, and then once she got married, with her and my stepdad.
Ford.
After every awful date or satisfying hookup, my thoughts always found their way to him.
I tried not to think about him, but it was hard not to remember lusting after his perfect body.
It wasn’t like I planned on developing a crush on my stepdad, but it was puberty…
and my gay awakening. I didn’t have a lot of control over what was happening down there .
Despite all the years since their divorce, he was still the guy. The one that made me realize I was different from all the other boys. That wasn’t something easy to forget.
Even after not speaking to him—or seeing him—for years, he was still there.
With my recent string of failed relationships and self-diagnosed obsession with sex, I decided—with the encouragement of my best friend, Morgan—to have a celibate summer.
Of course, ever since that decision was made, sex was almost exclusively the only thing I had talked about, so Morgan had an additional suggestion.
A cage.
I reached down to adjust my newly adorned chastity device snuggled in between my thighs.
It was actually pretty comfortable, though having the guy at The Velvet Hole manhandle me into the properly-sized one was certainly an experience I’d never forget. I was shocked I fit into something so small.
But it was an experiment after all, albeit a kinky one; a reset for me of sorts and hopefully the beginning of a newer, more mature phase of my life. One where I’d have better judgment and more self control.
Or as Morgan referred to it—my stop-being-a-slut-for-cock summer.
It was easy for him to say that. He and Pierre had met during Morgan’s study abroad semester and had been inseparable ever since. Morgan was getting all the cock he wanted. Granted, it was the same cock.
As the cabin came into view, I had to almost hold back tears. It felt like everything up to this point in my life was a metaphor and this cabin was a beacon, a refuge from the toxicity I was leaving behind.
Memories of happier times came flooding back.
Having to swim back from the island in the middle of the lake because our canoe slipped away.
Flinging a still-on-fire marshmallow across the clearing while making s’mores and almost starting a wildfire.
Staying up late to see meteor showers.
I hoped to God my time here was worth it.
I needed to figure out what the fuck to do with my life.
Where I was going wrong with all these guys.
And it all started with promising myself that I would no longer settle for useless one night stands or relationships that brought me down.
I needed a partner that nurtured my spirit instead of draining it.
And then hope and pray that partner had a stunning and endlessly hole-pleasing cock.
I pulled up to the front door and turned off the engine. The complete stillness was like a security blanket. Sometimes the city’s constant noise was comforting, but not like this.
That’s weird.
The front porch light was on. Unless my mom had a timer installed, it looked like someone was here. I sure as shit hoped someone hadn’t broken in and fucked up the place.
By the time I made it to the porch, I convinced myself that there was a good reason the light was on. It had to be a timer. That was it.
After I unlocked the front door, I felt a renewed sense of liberation. The whole summer was ahead of me and tonight I was going to start things off right. By taking an edible, baking cookies, and eating all the cookies.
But as soon as I entered the kitchen, I could tell something was off. Someone had been here—or maybe they were still here? There were dishes in the sink and empty beer cans on the counter. And I didn’t remember turning the upstairs lights on.
Definite Goldilocks vibes.
I put the bags of groceries down on the table and headed to the living room.
A quick circuit of the first floor revealed nothing else of note, so I made my way to the stairs and slowly started climbing.
Within seconds, I had the thought that this would definitely make a good finale for a wilderness-set horror movie.
If someone was here, I would just explain this wasn’t their cabin and they should find another place to go. Simple as that.
If it got physical, I could take care of myself. I worked out.
A little.
More lights at the top of the stairs…from the only room up here, the master bedroom…and noises.
Sex noises !
Someone was going to town on someone and it sounded…kind of hot.
Blood flowed southward and my cage was becoming increasingly strained holding its goods.
This wasn’t a horror movie anymore, it was a porn.
I crept forward, not making a sound. The door was cracked open, enough for me to see two perfect globes of man-ass pounding away. Whoever was on the receiving end of that had to be in heaven.
His back was flawless, his blond hair was perfect. The longer I stared, the more aroused I became. He was a fucking stallion. I just wanted to see how big his?—
Fuck!
I lost my balance leaning forward and fell into the room, slamming the door open.
“What the fuck?!” the man screamed.
“I’m sorry, I—” I pulled myself together and stood up. Glancing over at the bed, the man had pulled the blanket up, covering his muscles and most everything else. But not his face.
“Dylan?”
Holy shit.
What was my ex-stepdad doing here?
And more importantly, who was he fucking like that?
I hadn’t stood in the doorway for too long.
I think.
I had been sitting at the kitchen table for what felt like an eternity, waiting for Ford to come down.
The groceries I had brought in were still on the table, minus the eggs and milk.
They were in the fridge next to what I assumed was Ford’s stuff.
I tried to remember the last time I saw him, but his perfect ass was the only thing currently coming to mind.
It had been so long I couldn’t remember.
To be honest, I wanted to get back in my truck and drive away—I likely hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, probably not since he moved out. But somehow he and my mom remained friends. He made an effort a few times to contact me, but I was too embarrassed about what happened.
From what I had just seen, it was clear he was still into fitness.
His blond hair looked a little longer than I remembered, but the hazel eyes were the same.
And despite the current situation, even I could admit it was a little funny.
Now Ford knew what it was like to get caught in a compromising position.
There was something paradoxical about wanting to escape from reality for a while by going to a deeply impactful memory from my younger years and ending up in the middle of the woods with a man I’ve tried very lazily to forget.
As soon as I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs, the lump that had been forming in my throat solidified. Fuck, this was almost painful.
Ford appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame, wearing a few more pieces of clothing than earlier.
Somehow he looked as good as ever. His snug t-shirt barely contained his biceps.
And the sweatshorts he was wearing were so low on his hips that I could see a bit of his tight stomach.
Everything about his body screamed athlete though I was pretty sure he was still coaching.
“I feel like we might need to talk,” he said.
I unclasped my hands and drummed my fingers on the table. “Really? What makes you think that?” I said a silent thank you to the universe for not letting the distraction that was Ford’s body destroy my capability to make words.
Ford smiled. “Oh, I dunno. Here I was, enjoying my Saturday night, when all of sudden, I had an audience.”
“Don’t you mean we had an audience?” I asked.
He tilted his head. “What?”
“Are you a magician?” I motioned up the stairs. “Where did your…sexual partner go? Are they still upstairs or are they climbing out the window?”
Ford stepped forward, pulling one of the other chairs back, and sat down across from me. When he crossed his arms in front of his chest, I did my best to maintain eye contact.
“I…was alone,” he said.
“Oh.”
Oh!
I was completely certain that my surprise was obvious.
“Yeeeeah.”
He must’ve seen the expression on my face. “I texted your mom,” he added. “She forgot I asked to use the cabin for the summer.”
“The entire summer?!” I blurted without thinking.
“I can go. I should go. It’s not my family’s cabin anymore.”
Fuck, he almost sounded morose. And why the hell didn’t I think to call my mom?
Because you were thinking about his ass.
Another look at his face and I knew I wasn’t going to kick him out. He certainly didn’t need to leave right this minute. “You don’t need to go tonight,” I said. “We can talk it out. Maybe we can come up with a solution?”
We can talk it out?
Who the fuck did I think I was? Sigmund fucking Freud. We hadn’t spoken in years—what could I have to say to him other than if you weren’t with a person then what the hell were you just fucking up there? My curiosity was piqued and damned if other parts of me weren’t also interested in what I saw.
“Really?” he said. “You’d do that. You’d let me stay?”
I shrugged. “You were here first. I can take my old room.” Apparently, I was Mother Teresa. “You’re already settled upstairs. I’ve got to get the rest of my stuff though.” The chair scraped the floor when it pushed back as I stood up. A fitting sound for the continued awkwardness that was my life.
“I can help you if you like.”
There was no point in making this worse than it already was, so I said, “Sure.”
As we unloaded my truck—the rest of the groceries to the kitchen, everything else in the downstairs bedroom—Ford chatted me up. It was as if the earlier butt-naked-fucking incident had never happened and we were just two bros at a cabin by the lake.
“You eat yet?”
I shook my head. “I was gonna make grilled cheese or something quick.”
“I can make us burgers if you like.”
“As long as they’re cheeseburgers.”
Ford laughed. “You and your cheese. I always joked with your mom that you were part mouse.”
“I never knew that.”
“We can watch a movie too, unless you want to hit the sack early? Maybe you’re tired from the long drive.”
I couldn’t understand how he was so relaxed, and I really wanted to know why he was out here alone for apparently the whole summer.
“A movie sounds great.”
I yawned and stretched.
Fuck, where am I?
My brain answered almost immediately. The cabin.
And the moonlight coming through the windows illuminated the room enough for me to figure out I was in the living room. Glancing down, I could see a blanket was covering my body.
It seemed I had fallen asleep on the couch, though I certainly didn’t remember using a blanket. I looked around for my phone.
It was four thirty, which meant I had been asleep for quite a bit. I wondered what time Ford had gone to bed. The last thing I remembered was the T. Rex escaping its paddock and the lawyer guy getting eaten on the toilet.
I stood up, tossing the blanket back on the couch, and did my best to creep quietly to my bedroom. I’d brush my teeth in the morning.
As I drifted off to sleep, my brain had time to process.
Ford had most likely put the blanket on me and I wasn’t sure what to think about that.