Chapter 17
WOLFE
When I woke up with a warm, solid body next to me, my half-asleep brain decided the most appropriate response was to giggle.
“The fuck?” Trace murmured.
“Ignore me.” The croaky sound of my morning voice triggered more laughter. Maybe I was simply high from the reality sinking in of having finally slept with Trace Bishop.
Trace Bishop was naked in my bed.
Trace Bishop’s naked cock was pressed against my thigh.
Trace Bishop’s hand was squeezing my naked pec.
“Couldn’t ignore you if I wanted to,” he mumbled against the back of my neck. “And I don’t want to. What’s so funny?”
“I’m not used to waking up with anyone in my bed,” I admitted, turning to face him.
Trace’s sleepy grin grew wide. “Thought you said you’d had hookups on this trip.”
“I did. More than one.”
His grin dimmed immediately. “Oh?”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. Then, for some reason, my brain replayed his face falling over and over until I was giggling hysterically and he was frowning in confusion. “Sorry, sorry,” I gasped. “Just… your face.”
“I mean, you certainly have the right to hook up with whoever you want,” he said grudgingly.
“I know,” I agreed with a grin. But I was enjoying the fuck out of his obvious discomfort with the idea.
I’d never thought I’d get to see Trace Bishop jealous over me. I was adding this moment to my mental highlight reel—the one I’d never be able to share with anyone. Right up there with my Grammy win and hearing Papa sing along to one of my songs.
“Mpfh.” Trace was clearly not enjoying my amusement.
At least until I leaned in and kissed the turned-down edge of his grumpy lips.
The warm touch of his hands moved up and down my back. “Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured against my lips.
I didn’t take my lips off him long enough to do more than murmur, “Mmhm.”
We made out lazily until my dick was wide-awake and desperate for relief. The slight soreness in my ass from last night reminded me of how good it had felt to get fucked, especially knowing who was inside of me.
It was too good to be true, and I almost didn’t want to let myself even think about it. As if remembering it in glorious detail would somehow make it go away.
Despite our conversation the night before, I was under no delusions that Trace and I were beginning something. Not something lasting, anyway. Trace had too many reservations about us, and I… well, I had too many secrets I was keeping.
This was simply a chance to slake our mutual thirst and put to bed our curiosity.
Maybe it would ruin our relationship forever. If it did, I was kind of okay with that. Our relationship had already been shit. When Trace had moved to Legacy, I’d lost him as a friend. He was still a member of my family, but we no longer had a relationship like we’d had when I was younger.
For now, I had him all to myself. At least for a little while. I wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
My stomach tightened with need as I tried not to rut up against him. “Want you,” I confessed, hot and damp against the skin of his neck, where I was trying my hardest not to suck marks into him to leave visible proof of our time together.
“Fuck, baby.” The sound of his groan filled the warm space around us, still sleep-scented and cozy, tucked away where no one could see or hear us.
“What do you want?” I asked, moving a hand down to stroke his cock as I continued to suck gently on his skin. “My hand? Mouth? Ass?”
His cock jumped in my grip as he let out another groan. “Can’t think with your hands on me.”
I moved over him until our cocks pressed together, bringing my hand down to grab them both in a firm fist. Trace’s head tilted back on the pillow as his eyes squeezed closed. His little laugh lines deepened, and his mouth opened.
“Fuck.”
I wasn’t coordinated enough for this. Instead, I moved down his body, dragging my lips and tongue across his skin until my mouth reached the rosy tip of his cock.
Then I began teasing him with my tongue until my mouth tasted salty from his precum and the words coming from his throat were breathy and short. I couldn’t have liked the lyrics more if I’d written them myself.
Wolfe, fuck. Baby, please. Jesus fuck.
I sucked and licked with my mouth while rolling his balls in my palm and inhaling the scent of him deep into my lungs.
“Gonna make me come.” His fingers tightened in my hair, and he warned me again. “Wolfe!”
I stayed where I was, taking him as deep as I could before pulling off and letting his release land on my tongue. Trace’s choked-off cry made my own dick even harder.
I reached down to stroke it after fumbling for the lube still under one of the pillows. The slick grip of my fingers gave me an unexpected flash of what it would be like to fuck Trace, to thrust into his hot body and feel him squeeze around me.
That image was all it took to trigger my orgasm. My release came barreling down on me, stealing my breath and whiting out my vision.
Trace’s voice was hushed. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful like that.”
His fingers combed through my hair, petting and caressing my head as the aftershocks rolled over me. “I want to fuck you,” I croaked.
“Right now?”
I snorted and finally had the wherewithal to look at him. “No. Jesus. I just…” I let out a breath. “I want that, too. Sometime.”
Not that I thought we had much time, necessarily. But he had mentioned spending the whole day together, right?
His smile softened. “I want that, too. Soon.” Trace lifted his eyebrows. “But not that soon. I thought for a minute I was going to have to remind you how old I am.”
I lay on my back to keep the mess on my stomach from getting on the sheets. “You don’t have a five-second refractory period? Shame.”
“You joke, but it is a shame. If I did, I’d have to fight you for which one of us gets to top next.”
We eventually got up and took turns in my tiny shower cubicle while simultaneously brewing coffee for each of us. The image of him in there, all wet and soapy, made me wonder if it was possible for the two of us to squeeze in there together.
Eventually, we were appropriately caffeinated and fed. Trace took the opportunity to return to his own campsite to grab a change of clothes while I started making a packed lunch for our hike.
Within thirty minutes, we were parking at the trailhead, and Trace was slinging my small daypack onto his shoulder.
I felt a mix of giddiness and nerves. Happy I was there alone on the trail with him as I’d always fantasized. Nervous as fuck that I’d screw it up somehow and make this end even sooner.
“Been a while since we’ve been on a hike together, hasn’t it?” He grinned across the roof of his rental car at me.
He’d said something like that last night, too, and I’d been too fucked out to address it.
“Whose fault is that?” I kept my tone light but couldn’t help raising my eyebrows in challenge. “I’m not the one who moved to fucking Montana.”
“Right.” Trace moved around the vehicle. “Let’s talk about this.”
Fuck. Well, I guess it hadn’t taken me long to screw things up, had it? I was my own worst enemy sometimes. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Trace reached for my hand, holding it in his strong grip. The heat of his stare warmed the side of my face. “I do want to.” He nodded at the entrance to the trail. “Let’s go.”
In addition to being too early in the season, it was also early in the morning. Ours was the only car at the trailhead. As we walked into the trees, I appreciated the privacy. I didn’t feel the need to rush it, so I let the silence drag out as we walked.
After a few moments, Trace took the lead. “How much do you know about my situation before I met Derek?”
I glanced over in surprise. “I know you were working in the bar he was at with his friends, the night you saved him. That you’d had a shitty upbringing in a small town.
” I glanced from the uneven trail floor back up to his face.
“I overheard my dads talking about it once. Saying your parents kicked you out. I never wanted to pry, so I didn’t ask. ”
He nodded. “They kicked me out before I finished high school. I made my way to San Francisco, mostly because I figured there’d be shelters and programs there that could help, but it was still hard. Really fucking hard. Even when I found work, I still couldn’t afford to rent a room.”
I glanced at him, my heart rate increasing more from the stress of his experience than the increasing incline of the trail. “But Marian House could have—”
“I didn’t know it existed,” Trace said, cutting me off.
“Your family does amazing work, but it’s hard to get the word out about their programs to people without phones or internet.
And anyway… I went through a phase where I didn’t want anything to do with my queer identity.
I blamed it for all my problems. If I’d learned about a program for queer kids, I’d probably have stayed away. ”
“I’m sorry,” I finally said when I couldn’t hold back any longer. “That must have been so fucking hard.”
“It was.” He squeezed my hand. “But it led me to you. To Derek and Jude. To SERA.”
The mention of SERA reminded me that Trace was living his dream. He hadn’t only left San Francisco because of me. He’d been building the future he’d always wanted.
“I’m proud of you. SERA is amazing.” I took in a breath. “I read the recent article in Outdoor magazine.”
I didn’t add that I’d listened to the older NPR interview with him approximately ten thousand times, just so I could fall asleep to the sound of his voice.
He flashed a grin at me. “Read the article or pinned up the photo spread?”
Heat rushed to my face. So what if one of the photos had ended up taped to the inside of my journal?
“They called it the ‘elite Montana wilderness rescue school that could save your life one day.’ I think that’s amazing.”
Trace tilted his chin down. “Yeah. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.”
It was a humble understatement. After a few more silent moments walking the trail, he returned to the original topic.