My sweaty, dusty, thirsty foxes. This is either a standalone story, or you can consider it a follow-up to The Night in the Bathroom Stall 5.

Happy Sunday, and enjoy.

I stood where I always did, shrouded by brush and trees, the man-made path always fighting to disappear, while the two guys circled each other. It was fun to watch, except when it wasn’t. They did that half-interested, half “I’ve got better options” dance, making me glad for my temporary invisibility.

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I walked past this construction site early this morning, watching the guys bend over, flashing their butt cracks, sweaty men carrying heavy shit, while one particular guy, composed and cool like he was on holiday, directed them all. Minutes later, I got home, sat down and wrote this story.

If only that guy knew what I wrote about him.

The heat had been building since seven. By ten the sixth floor smelled of wet concrete and the sound of someone cutting rebar two levels below.

I took the stairs because the elevator was dead again.

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Six flights through a raw concrete shell with temporary lighting hanging crooked from extension cables. By the third-floor landing my shirt was sticking between my shoulder blades.

I arrived, slightly out of breath to find Vance stood over the blueprints with two bricks pinning the corners against the breeze coming through the open side of the building.

He looked the way he always did, dark blond hair shoved back badly with one hand at some point that morning, shorter at the sides, messy on top again already. A few days without shaving had left rough blond shadows along his jaw and around his mouth that somehow suited him in the heat, making him look rougher, more solid.

I’d worked with him for months through site visits, delays, safety meetings and coffee from paper cups strong enough to strip paint. None of this was new.

So I couldn’t explain why, standing there sweating through my shirt while his radio crackled against his shoulder, I suddenly noticed the shape of his mouth when he concentrated. Or the slight tilt at the end of his nose like it had been broken years ago and never properly fixed.

Or why watching him drag his thumb absently across his bottom lip, clearing away concrete dust, made something shift low in my stomach hard enough to unsettle me.

Worn work boots. Navy site trousers hanging low on his hips. Black t-shirt darkened with sweat beneath an open hi-vis vest, dust caught in the dark hair along his forearms and the old scars across his hands.

He barely looked up when I walked over.

“Hey, Glenn,” he said, the words coming rough, like he hadn’t used his voice much yet that morning.

“Hey, Vance. How’s it going? Winning? Making lots of friends?”

That got a faint smile out of him, gone almost immediately.

I leaned across the plans to grab the pen and my hand landed over his by accident. His hand flexed once beneath mine and something low in my stomach tightened hard enough to knock the breath out of me. I felt him pause too, just for a second, the air between us suddenly charged in a way I couldn’t explain.

But neither of us pulled away.

Somewhere below us rebar screamed against a cutting wheel while wind moved through the unfinished frame of the building, radios crackling every few seconds from different floors, but at the table it felt like everything had stalled around the simple fact of his hand beneath mine.

Vance cleared his throat once and looked back down at the plans, though his attention didn’t seem fully on them anymore.

“Contractors on the west side have gone off spec again,” he said slowly, like he was forcing the words out in the right order. “Steel placement’s out by at least…”

He stopped.

For the first time since I’d known him, Vance looked uncertain.

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It wasn’t Vance being uncharacteristically nervous, it was more like he was confused. His eyes flicked downward briefly before returning to mine and a knot tightened in my chest.

I followed the movement without thinking.

The outline beneath his site trousers was impossible to miss now. A bulge that moments earlier wasn’t even noticeable. For a second my brain tried explaining it away. Heat, bad angle perhaps, or just the fabric bunching.

That was not it. There was nothing ambiguous about it.

The realisation hit me so fast I nearly stepped back from the table.

Vance had a hard-on.

My pulse kicked once, heavy enough that I suddenly became aware of my own body, the pressure trapped uncomfortably behind my fly after weeks of stress, heat and absolutely nothing remotely like this ever happening before.

Fuck.

I shifted instinctively, subtle enough that I thought I’d hidden it, angling away from him and pulling the jeans material away from my trapped boner, but Vance’s eyes dropped immediately.

Straight to my crotch.

The radio clipped to his shoulder crackled again with somebody asking about concrete delivery on level three.

Vance adjusted himself once through the fabric of his trousers, turning slightly, like I had done, trying to hide it, then turning to throw me a look that said he regretted even needing to do it.

His eyes went from my eyes down to my bulge, then back up again.

He swallowed. I could almost hear it.

We stood there staring at each other across the blueprints while the entire building carried on around us, both of us trying to understand the same impossible thing at the same time.

Vance opened his mouth like he was about to continue talking about the plans, but nothing came out.

His jaw worked once. The tip of his tongue dragged briefly across his dry lower lip before disappearing again.

Then he turned away abruptly, one hand bracing against the edge of the table.

The movement pulled the fabric of his t-shirt tight across his back and for the first time I noticed the shape of him properly beneath the site clothes, the hard line of muscle through his waist and ass from years of hauling materials up unfinished staircases.

Jesus Christ.

He turned back toward me too quickly and caught me looking.

The longer we went without speaking, the more awkward it became.

His eyes dropped again before he could stop them, straight to the front of my jeans this time, and I felt heat climb hard into my face.

I cleared my throat.

“Vance…”

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But he looked wrecked suddenly. Sweat running from his temples now despite the breeze moving through the floor, chest rising deeper beneath the darkened t-shirt.

“Glenn, I…” He stopped and dragged a hand over the back of his neck. “Fuck, man. I don’t know what…”

I stepped closer before my brain caught up with me, following some kind of instinct that I rarely listened to.

I honestly don’t think I meant to touch him.

Maybe I only meant to shove him jokingly, maybe break the tension somehow, make this normal again.

But my hand closed over him through the fabric of his trousers instead.

Vance jerked sideways sharply, swearing under his breath, but not before I felt the full hard thickness of his cock in my hand.

The shock of it went through both of us. I yanked my hand back like it had been burned.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, breathing hard now. “This fucking heat’s making us crazy.”

My mouth had gone completely dry.

I stepped back immediately, pulse hammering, every instinct in my body suddenly screaming at me to move before I did something worse.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Yeah…I need water or something.”

Then I turned and headed fast toward the portable site bathrooms before he could see how badly my hands were shaking.

Inside the portable unit the air was surprisingly cooler, though trapped and stale beneath the plastic roof. I planted both hands against the wall above the urinal and tried breathing through whatever the hell had just happened.

This was insane.

It was also stupid dangerous and made no sense.

I unzipped mechanically, more to relieve pressure than anything else, staring at the scratched plastic wall in front of me while my heartbeat refused to settle, letting my cock lean out, no longer constrained. I figured once I regained composure, I’d pee and get on with my day. Maybe even laugh it off later.

Then the door opened behind me.

Heavy boots stepped onto the floor beside mine.

I looked sideways.

Dropping my pants feels pointless when I barely wear pants anyway, so instead I’ve briefly discounted yearly subscription prices.

Real talk: I’m struggling right now. The last year has absolutely kicked my ass financially, and while I hate doing the whole “please subscribe” thing, I also like eating and paying bills.

20% Off 1 Year!!!

This weekend, my subscription prices are going up, but yearly subscriptions are 20% off for the next 48 hours only.

Also, locking the rest of the Vance bathroom scene behind the paywall might be the most evil thing I’ve done this month, but hey, even villains have rent to pay. We live in a cruel world, landlords refuse sexual favors as rent payment, and apparently “but the foreman was really hot” still isn’t recognised by most banks as a valid financial strategy.

Share my stories with someone. A subscription to my stories is basically the modern version of buying someone a drink and seeing where it goes.

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Some people say that right after they subscribed to Fox Emerson, Pedro Pascal crawled into bed with them, slightly sweaty, completely naked. He’d just come off set and hadn’t nutted in like, weeks.

Allegedly. I believe everything people say on the internet.

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What happened before? That’s here. Are you a new farmhand? Start here.

It was after midnight. The moon caught just enough light that Levi could make out Rodney’s mouth before it found his again, while the crickets filled everything around them, under the breeze and the grass and the soft uneven sound of the two of them kissing, out here where the real world felt a long way off.

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It was slow at first, then not, their mouths finding and missing, adjusting, coming back again, like neither of them wanted to rush it but didn’t quite know how not to. Levi’s hands roamed slowly over Rodney’s body, while Rodney’s stroked Levi’s face and his neck. Their bodies pressed together, the moon catching on Rodney’s cheek when he turned his head, then slipping away again as they shifted.

Rodney pressed his forehead into Levi’s after what felt like hours. He said in a half-whisper, low voice, “I never want this night to end. I wanted the fair to end though.”

Levi grinned, and looked directly into Rodney’s eyes, in an intimate way that had never happened. A soft laugh escaped him.

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Part 1 is here.

Finally, some good news. They say bad experiences are supposed to lead to better ones, but I’m not there yet.

A few weeks ago, something happened that I haven’t been able to shake. I feel off, distant from everyone. I go to college, come home, study, sleep. That’s it. I don’t see anyone unless I have to, and even then I’m too in my head.

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Late last week, I reached out to a therapist online. Cheap, anonymous, with the option of audio only. I gave him a fake name, and he pretended he didn’t notice.

He didn’t say much, which I guess is the point. He just listened, which is what I assume therapists do, then told me to write it down. Said it might help to get it out of my head and somewhere else.

I didn’t think I’d actually do it, but then late one night, I finally did. And interestingly enough, it was as cathartic as advertised.

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ALL characters in this story are 18+.
My dearest foxes. We all know what happens when I put on pants and go out. I meet people and create stories. I shouldn’t have walked into that gas station late last night.

The lane on the opposite side of the road was dark, empty and quiet. In the rearview mirror I saw nothing but blackness. Ahead, my lights illuminated more of it.

02:23 A.M. I had one hour to go.

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But I was tired, hungry, and as empty as my fuel tank. If I didn’t find a gas station soon, both my car and I would run dry.

Then lights appeared ahead. Pink and yellow, cutting through the dark, and I caught myself leaning forward like that might get me there quicker.

I pulled into the gas station and lined up with the pump and killed the engine.

As soon as I stepped out, the air shifted, the change from cold air to warm air hit me, the ground still holding heat through the soles of my shoes, while the strong smell of fuel overwhelmed me. I scanned beyond the glass and spotted the attendant reading a book.

I paid at the pump, shoved the nozzle in with a dull clang, then stepped back and leaned against the beat up grey Civic, the metal warm against my back.

The attendant looked up once, saw me and the car, then decided his book was more interesting.

It took a couple of minutes to fill up, the pump clicking and whining in the quiet, but by then I’d already clocked the hot dogs, the burgers and something else that looked old but would hopefully turn out to be an additional edible option.

I finished up, rinsed the side of the car from the spent fuel, then headed inside to find something to put in my mouth, the door thudding shut behind me. The air inside felt off straight away, like I’d broken something just by coming inside. The brightness hit me first. After the dark outside, it felt exposing, the light catching on the glass and chrome around me.

The dark-blonde clerk put the book down reluctantly, and forced a half-smile. I noticed that small button nose, the slightly rosy cheeks like he’d been running, blue eyes that pierced the distance and full lips. Lips that appeared ready to say something, but never quite did.

All of the food looked even sadder up close, but my stomach grumbled as the smell of warmed hotdogs reached me, thick and sweet. I grabbed a hotdog, some fries, a couple of sachets of tomato ketchup, and headed to get some water.

The fridges hummed, and above me a fluorescent light flickered, buzzing faintly.

He returned to his book, though his stance was stiff. Overhead some country singer softly followed me to the counter as I brought my items and dumped them in front of him.

Those eyes were piercing, and that smile faltered for a second as he squared his shoulders, set the book aside and picked up the hotdog. When he looked back at me, it wasn’t the same look. I almost said something, then just pulled my phone out and tapped to pay.

Seventeen fucking dollars for four items.

“Will that be all, Mister?”

I nodded, then saw a chocolate bar I definitely didn’t need. I added that to the counter and held up my phone.

His expression shifted. “Oh, love them! Trying to pretend they’re not within reach,” he said, his voice, accent stirring something in me.

I smiled. “Been a long time since I had one. Yeah, like… they’re too good.”

He smiled at the hotdog, then held up a paper bag. “Need one?”

I nodded. “Please.”

As he put the hotdog and fries into the bag, the paper crinkling between his fingers, he looked up, and I could tell he was hesitant about what he was about to say.

The new amount flashed on the register. Twenty fucking dollars.

“Kinda feels like they’re polar opposites.”

I smiled again. “You’re right, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Need to put something in my mouth, been a long drive.”

His smile widened and our eyes locked for half a second, then he slid the chocolate bar across the counter. “No point putting this next to the hot food.”

I picked up the bar and nodded. “You’re right, thanks. Not sure which I’ll eat first yet. It’s fifty-fifty.”

I saw his badge. Bradley. Early twenties, maybe, with a face that hadn’t learned how to hide anything yet. I noticed the book, either borrowed or read many times, going by the worn spine.

The two men on the front kissing gave away the contents.

“Any good?” I said, nodding at the book.

He looked down, then back to me and his smile faltered briefly. “Oh, er… yeah, it is. Read it before. Good story.”

When he scratched the back of his neck, and his shoulders tightened, I nodded like I knew it.

“Looks good, haven’t seen that one. Might pick it up when I get home. Assume you’d recommend it if you’re reading it again?”

The smile was in his eyes this time, like blue flames in the early hours.

“Absolutely, if you’re into that kind of thing. Well written, great characters. Highly recommend it. Kind of book you hope gets turned into a movie, but also hope they don’t, in case they ruin the story for you.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that happens too often. Surprising how many good books make shit movies.”

“Like Call Me By Your Name,” he said, “excellent book, mediocre movie. Could have been done so much better.”

“Never read the book, but liked the movie. I should read the book then,” I added, staring at the bag of hot food on the counter.

He launched into the differences between both mediums, while I reached into the bag and pulled the fries out. I didn’t interrupt him, but held up the fries as a question. He nodded mid-sentence, and continued with his review of both. I threw fries into my mouth as he spoke, enjoying the passion he threw behind his analysis while the salty potatoes melted in my mouth.

“You’re a big fan,” I noted, realizing I had already demolished half the fries, “I will definitely read the book then. What was your favorite part of the story?” I said, being careful not to highlight the book or the movie, in case it set him off again.

“Fucking the peach! Definitely. Was written well in the book, but in the movie…” he continued, and I finished the fries faster than I’d intended. Hunger does that.

When he paused, I put my hands on the counter and said, “Did you want to be the peach or him?”

He seemed confused by the question for a fraction of a second, but then smiled. “Definitely the peach!”

I laughed.

“You?” He asked me, leaning in, close enough that I could feel the shift in energy between us.

“Him. I like peaches.”

We both laughed, though I noticed how he shifted, leaned in, and faced me fully.

“Where are you off to at this time?” He asked me, appearing to see me for the first time.

“Home. Been at a conference. I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep during it, to be honest. But glad it’s over. Just opted for a long drive home over a soulless hotel in a town I don’t know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, also explains the suit at this time of the morning. Most people come in wearing shorts, t-shirts. Sometimes even barefoot.” His face screwed up at the last part.

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“Rather be naked,” I added, then snapped my eyes shut, and shook my head. “...errr, sorry. That’s not what I meant to say.”

He smiled, but his eyes locked onto me. “Don’t be, that’s kinda hot. Especially after what I was just readin’.”

Unfortunately, the suit was tight, and the material failed to hide what had quickly protested in my pants.

His eyes shifted down, not quite subtly, then back up at me. “Still pretty hard to hide that.”

I looked down, immediately drew back, and shifted to the side. With my salt-crusted fingers, chocolate slowly going soft in my fist, I readjusted what could not be adjusted.

When I turned to him, his attention was below my waistline. Pretty sure he wasn’t studying my shoes.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to hide my face. My mouth was dryer than before, and the tie around my neck felt tighter, my collar sticking slightly to my skin.

“That’s hot. Never get to see boners sitting here, and I’ve been here, reading these books a few months.”

I was still not over the embarrassment, but turned back and stared at the bag on the counter. The chocolate bar slowly melting in my hand.

He looked down, then back at me, with a cheeky grin that confused me. But then I saw the tent in his grey shorts. His shorts were tight, so he was in a worse position than I was.

“Damn! That looks big,” I said, feeling my face flush, my pulse race.

Three in the morning, hard on, fries on my breath, grease still on my fingers, not my finest hour.

It was his turn to flush a little, one hand going to the back of his neck and scratching, while the other tried to hide the unhideable.

I stared, my cock throbbing in my pants, my feet stuck to the ground, my mind reeling.

For what felt like an eternity, we both looked anywhere but each other, frequently watching each other’s bulge.

He swallowed, and tried to speak, but paused to clear his throat. “That’s kind of… made me, errr, a little…”

I nodded. “...yeah. But…” I looked around, shaking my head, trying to regain control of myself.

I spotted the cameras, one above him facing me, another by the door. I assumed there were many others.

His eyes followed where mine went. “Oh, none of them are working. Line went down a few days ago, they’re a bit slow to fix things around here.”

I looked up and realized red lights were off on the cameras. “Are you sure? I can’t…”

He nodded, then a half-smile formed. “They’re so tight, they’ve never said anything to me about all the chocolates I never paid for. Cameras working would have shown them that.”

I nodded slowly. “Have you ever…” I began, indicating the space behind the counter with my eyes.

I put my hand on the bulge in my pants, this time I held it an extra moment.

He did the same, watching how I grabbed it and shifted it.

I looked out, and everything beyond the stations’ lights was just darkness.

When I turned back, his hand was inside his shorts, and moved slowly. A small wet patch appeared in front of his grey shorts.

He looked to his right, at where the entry door was to his cage, then back at me.

“You could…” he said, looking down, trying to hide what his eyes had already confirmed.

I looked back outside, but still it was clear, so I walked around to the side, and waited.

The door opened, and I saw him standing there, in front of me, one hand still shoved down his shorts, the other unsteadily holding the door open. Even as he held it open, I could see he was trembling.

My throat was still dry, and I wished I’d drunk some of the water. I stepped forward, my own hand going back to my bulge.

When he stepped back, the door closed behind me with a whoosh. Inside that space, the shelves were packed with tiny items, closing the walls even further. Beyond the window, my Civic sat alone under bright lights, oblivious to what I was doing.

I inhaled and tried to stop my thoughts, which kept reminding me that this was stupid, dangerous and risky.

Bradley’s fingers fumbled with the drawstring on his shorts, fingers missing it twice, but eventually pulling at it and loosening it. His hands pushed his shorts down, his eyes avoiding eye contact with mine, but staying on my bulge.

I unbuckled my belt, realizing my own fingers were just as unpredictable, forcing them to steady as I undid my top button, pulled the zipper down and let the weight of my phone and wallet pull them down around my waist. My white briefs were exposed just as his shorts revealed he was commando.

His cock sprang forward, the tip wet.

My hands let mine out, dropping the briefs and exposing my balls and my cock. I stared beyond him, to make sure there were no surprises.

He saw me look, then turned, and then back to me, slowly jerking himself off.

“What do you want to do?” he asked me, briefly looking up at me.

I smiled. “Cock and peach,” my voice sounding even thinner than his.

He smiled, jerking faster. “Yeah, I’m down. That cock looks thick, long. Love your foreskin.”

I jerked off too, then stepped forward and wrapped my fingers around his shaft. He closed his eyes and exhaled, slow and uneven, like he’d been holding that breath since I walked in.

His hand reached out to grab mine, and I let his shaft go. He gripped it, studied it the way he’d studied that book spine, and his eyes widened.

Bradley looked behind him once, then turned and dropped to his knees. As soon as he opened his mouth and let my cock enter his mouth, I threw my head back and gripped something on both sides, not caring what I knocked over.

His mouth was hot, and his tongue under my cock, while the tip of my cock reached the back of his throat, was almost too much. I felt my toes curl, my knuckles whiten.

I was surprised when my cock reached the depth of his throat, and he held it there, reaching behind me to pull me in and hold me there. His chin pressed into my balls as the tip of my cock pressed into the back of his throat.

One hand stroked my cock, while another cupped my balls, as he moved back, licking the tip of my cock, then swallowing it all.

I sucked in breath, gripped his hair each time, trying not to pull it too hard.

After a while, he stood, watching me as he spat in his hand and reached behind him.

We were doing this.

My cock throbbed, precum leaking freely as he turned, moved to the counter facing outside, and bent over.

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His hole faced me, waiting, glistening with his spit. His ass was smooth and firm.

I spat on my fingers, put some more into his hole, massaging it gently, slipping a finger inside and watching the way his back arched, the way his head tilted to one side, then lifted slightly.

I moved forward, pushing my cock into his ass, looking beyond him, but saw his reflection in the glass.

He watched me in the reflection, those blue eyes tracking every move, his lip caught between his teeth, like he was still deciding if he was still in his book.

He’d probably been reading about it all night, fantasizing.

His ass was tight, so I gently pushed the tip in and watched him suck in a breath and hold it. When he exhaled loudly, I gave him an extra inch, reading him, and feeling my way.

I pushed in, he breathed, nodded, then I pushed in further.

I reached the end of him, my thighs pressing into his smooth butt, the front of my legs pushing against the back of his, and my balls gently knocking his balls once, then resting against them. I stayed inside him for a moment, just feeling him breathe around me, watching his knuckles whiten.

My cock throbbed deep inside him, stretching him open, watching the way he arched back, breathing in, gripping the printer by the register, almost lifting it up as my hands gripped his waist and I pushed myself deep into him.

The first few times I eased in slowly, reached the depth of him, pulling all the way out, then moving back in, enjoying the way the flesh of my cock slid easily through his ass. Enjoying the way his butt cheeks gently smacked my thighs each time.

Then, as I could feel he’d loosened, I grabbed fistfuls of flesh on either side of him and built some momentum, my cock throbbing with each thrust.

He gasped, and then moaned, each time the printer lifted in his hands, then hit the counter. As I sped up, he stopped grabbing the printer, and grabbed the register instead.

I fucked him harder each time, wanting to see how much he could take. He moaned with pleasure, pushed back into me, eyes closing for longer stretches.

He fell forward a little and lost his balance when I thrust harder, his head briefly hitting the glass, but one hand went to the window and held it, while the other reached to the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Bradley had long stopped caring about the counter.

“Oh, God! Yes!” he said, his voice both husky and begging.

When I fucked him harder, the entire counter rattled, the printer jolting in his hands as packets of cigarettes slipped loose, pens and lighters scattering before I could track any of it, everything shifting at once around us.

I tried to slow, but one hand reached back and pulled me into him again.

I rammed harder, keeping an eye beyond the window, and another on his face in the reflection. I fucked him repeatedly, this time scratch cards flew loose, along with cigarettes and a roll of receipt paper, plastic cups hitting him and dropping away. By the time a wad of sugar packets fell onto us, I was close to blowing my load into him.

Once more, I thrust into him, gripping his waist, his head hitting the window, more items flying loose all around us as the sensation erupted inside me. I couldn’t stop, I was so close. I thrust harder, that feeling hit me like a truck.

It exploded through my shaft and deep into Bradley’s ass, as a plastic bundle landed on my head.

I kept going,

“Oh, fuck…yeah, like that,” he said, like he’d just found the passage he was looking for.

I gripped him one final time, slowed down but rammed deep.

His hand slammed the glass hard, it rattled heavily, something big and black dropped from a top shelf, landing beside us as all of it left me and I watched as he blew across the floor hands-free.

I leaned forward, and put a hand on his back, gasping to regain my breath, realizing my shirt was soaked with my sweat. Looking down, his ass was also covered in sweat. I leaned into him for a few moments, my forehead almost touching his back, both of us just breathing. The counter had stopped rattling. The fluorescent light was still flickering. Everything else was very, very quiet. Outside, my car still waited for me.

I slowly pulled out, and back away from him, the reality of what we’d done hitting me.

I stood like that for a moment, watching him stand up, looking at the chaos all around us. Neither of us looked at each other. The receipt paper had unrolled halfway across the floor. A lighter had landed in the hotdog bag.

He was already pulling his shorts up, eyes on the floor, back to being the kid behind the counter while I caught my breath.

“Want help cleaning up…” I began.

He was too quick to respond. “No, it’s fine. Thanks.”

I quickly put myself back together, and backed to the door.

As I opened it, the phone rang.

We both exchanged a look.

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up as he stared at the phone for a few moments, before he finally reached over and picked it up.

I opened the door, and began to step out, realizing I was still hungry and needing to get out of there.

Bradley answered the phone telling the caller who he was and the name of the station.

As I walked around the counter and moved to pick up the bag with my food in it, I saw Bradley’s face.

The color drained out of it as he looked up at the cameras.

I fled.

Thank you for the 10 restacks. The sequel is now live here.

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New? Start here. Seasoned foxes, chapter four is here.

The darkness didn’t lift so much as turn blue, sitting low in the barn, clinging to the beams and the dust and the backs of the horses as they stood there half-asleep.

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A breeze moved through, slow and easy, cooling the space but not quite clearing the heat the night had left behind.

One of the horses shifted, a hoof dragging through the dirt, a low huff following it, thick and warm in the quiet, like the whole place wasn’t ready to wake yet.

For a moment nothing else moved, the barn just holding it.

Then a rooster tore through it from somewhere out past the fields. The sound echoed around the farm.

Levi’s head moved first, turning toward the window, a yawn slipping out of him before he was really awake, his arms stretching out and then up, back tightening, then dropping again as he blinked into the light.

Something felt off. Not wrong exactly, just… not where he expected to be.

He wasn’t in the hammock. That was the first thing. He was on the couch, facing the window, with the blanket twisted somewhere low around him.

And naked.

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Part 3 is here, or you can start at the beginning here.

Over the next few weeks the farm fell into a routine, with Rodney taking over enough of the day-to-day stuff that Levi found himself drifting toward the things that had always been there but had never gotten around to. Rodney stopped when Levi stopped, ate as much as Levi did, and snored as hard as Levi allegedly did.

Most mornings they were out by the paddocks before the heat came in, with the ground still holding some of the night. Levi had one of the mares tied off near the fence, running his hand along her side, feeling for it. She shifted under him, ears flicking, weight moving from one leg to the other, tail giving the odd twitch.

He’d been watching her a few days. Miss it, you’re waiting another three weeks.

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My horny foxes, I wrote this today after a quick trip to the hardware store yesterday. My visit was nothing like this one, but he was very handsome. Let me know what you think.

It was five minutes to five on a Saturday when I walked in, rushing, list in hand, because a list was the closest thing I had to somewhere to be. The place had that end-of-day feel to it, lights still on but everything mentally shut down, the air stale, shelves half-faced, like the whole building had been about to exhale before I walked in.

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The list felt ridiculous. Weather stripping, wood glue, a specific set of galvanized bolts I’d convinced myself I needed but might not actually ever use.

The name on the badge said Jeremy. He only looked up once, enough for me to know he wished I’d fuck off. I got the impression he was just doing this until his big break in Hollywood showed up. Anyone with those kind of looks would have to end up on your television or get a drug habit trying.

I heard him counting coins, slow and methodical, each one clicking against the counter like it was eating into what little time I had left. He glanced up once, his mouth tightening slightly, not even trying to hide it.

“We’re closing in four minutes,” he said, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like judgment.

“I know. I’ll be real quick.”

The pressure settled in properly then. I had a dozen items and less than four minutes to find them. I walked past the superglue, stepped back, and crouched down. There were eleven different types, because of course there were.

I grabbed the nearest one and kept moving. I heard him come around the counter.

“Can I help you with something?”

His voice caught me off guard in a way I wasn’t expecting. I turned, already aware I’d only managed to find one thing and that he’d clocked it.

I held the list out. He took it, and his fingers brushed mine. For a second I felt it properly, rough, warm, and something faint there, clean sweat and metal, gone before I could place it properly.

His eyes landed on me for just an extra second. Then he turned and walked away from me.

He was in khaki shorts and a work shirt that had given up pretending to fit him properly. One of those blue ones, half open, darkened through with sweat, clinging in places and hanging loose in others.

When he moved I caught the line of his chest under it, thick with light hair, the fabric shifting just enough to show it before it settled again.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days. It should have made him look rougher than he already did, but it didn’t. It suited him. Made his mouth stand out more when he spoke.

And then he glanced up again, properly this time, and his eyes caught the light. Blue, not soft or pale, but deep enough that I locked on. It was like looking into water you don’t quite know the depth of.

He dropped his gaze back to the list like nothing had happened, while I stood there holding nothing, trying to remember what I’d come in for.

He stared at the list as he walked away. “What is it you’re building, exactly?”

The way he said it was flat. He even glanced at the door as he walked around into the next aisle.

“Oh, um… it’s not one thing. Just a few different jobs.”

He didn’t look convinced. His eyes moved down the page, slower now, like he was trying to make sense of it and failing.

“Right,” he said. “So we’ve got weather stripping… wood glue… galvanized bolts… tile spacers… two different types of screws that don’t match anything else on here…”

His eyes lifted from the list and settled on me.

“…and superglue. Is that in case the screws don’t fit?”

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I shifted slightly under the weight of his stare.

“It’s just bits I need,” I said. “Things that came up, and I’ve found one.”

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite irritation.

“So this isn’t a job,” he said, finally looking at me properly. “This is just your weekly collection of problems.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

“And you decided,” he went on, tapping the list once with his finger, “that five minutes before closing on a Saturday was the perfect time to start dealing with all of them.”

There it was.

I gave a small shrug, already knowing I had no defense that didn’t make it worse.

“When you say it like that…”

He held my gaze for a second, then one corner of his mouth shifted, just slightly.

“I’m just being an ass. It’s been a long day.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really clock the time.”

He picked up an item, returned to my aisle and handed me the list like it was starting to burn his fingers, then the small item he’d just found for me, before he walked off.

“That accent, Irish?” he asked, already halfway to the next aisle.

I watched him, unsure what was going on.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to win him over with something, anything. “Good guess.”

“Not really. Pretty strong accent. You’ve been here, what… a year or two?”

I huffed a little. “Four.”

He reached over the aisle and handed me a package. “There are three to choose from. You didn’t drive up in a car that justifies offering you the other two.”

I let out a short, surprised laugh before I could stop it. So not a wanna-be movie star, just a smartarse.

A few moments later he dropped out of sight, muttering something I didn’t catch. He sprang back up and passed me another package. Tile spacers. I took it and moved to the counter, grabbing a small basket on the way.

I headed down the next aisle where he’d crouched again, scanning the lower shelves. He turned and threw something toward me without warning.

A cable. Black, thick, wrapped tight in plastic and cardboard. It hit my hands with more weight than I expected. As I walked past him I noticed the other options still hanging there. He’d given me the cheapest one.

Then he grabbed a hose from the garden section. “How long?”

I stared at it, then back at him. “Not sure. Standard garden, I guess.”

He stepped in close enough that I felt it, the space narrowing without quite touching, and I caught it properly then, sweat, sun, cut wood and dust clinging to him. He pushed the hose into my chest.

“You still need half this list,” he said. “You’re not finding it on your own in three minutes.”

I exhaled. “Yeah, please.”

He held something out to me. I hesitated for half a second, then stepped closer and took it from his hand.

“Honestly,” I said, a bit too quick, not quite meeting his eyes, “I’ll just take whatever you give me.”

He froze for a moment, hand still mid-air, something in his expression shifting before he caught it. Then he turned, grinning again, but there was something different in it now, something that lingered.

“You sure about that?” he said.

I frowned slightly. “About what?”

He stepped in and squeezed past me, his ass brushing against my crotch on the way through. I moved back, even as he excused himself. But it had been intentional, I was sure of that. Again, the smell of him hit properly, sweat, warm skin, something faintly sharp like metal and sawdust, and it lingered after he walked away.

I opened my mouth to say something, to call him out on it, but as he bent over a few steps away from me, it hit me before I could even finish the thought.

My cock had gone hard.

I quickly swiveled away and adjusted myself, then scratched my head.

I’m not into guys.

I’m not.

He came past me with another item. “One more, but it’s out back. That one does have options.”

As he sped off, I turned to follow him as he moved around the counter and went through a wide doorway.

I hesitated for half a second, then followed him.

He jumped up on a ladder and reached up, there were boxes there that he rummaged through. He picked through two of them, then found what he wanted. He smiled, threw two items at me. They were so light they almost floated down.

The wall plugs were in slim, light packaging.

I grabbed them both, and thanked him.

He leaned back on the ladder, grinning, folding his arms like he’d achieved something and was taking a second to enjoy it.

“What?” I asked, taking a step closer.

He dropped down the two steps, still watching me, that grin not going anywhere.

“You… uh… you always get like that, or…?”

His eyes dipped down. All the way down.

I shifted back, realizing I was still hard, moving the packages he’d thrown in front of my shorts.

“Sorry, no. It’s just… erm… yeah… I probably…” I turned, ready to flee.

“It’s okay… honestly. I don’t mind. We’re… we’re alone here. Nobody else’s seen it.”

I stopped, turned and watched him. Adrenaline hit hard, my pulse loud in my ears, down into my feet. Something in my shorts wasn’t arguing.

He walked right up, stood within inches of my face.

I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I felt his breath on my face. He swallowed too, I could see sweat beads on his forehead. Our eyes locked. Somehow watching him struggle made me feel a little better. He wasn’t as confident as I thought.

“I… I’ve… I mean… it’s been a long time with…” he could tell that I had no idea what I wanted to say.

He nodded, grinning again. “It’s been a while for me. And you… well, you look like… you know…” he shook his head. “...sorry. Bit nervous. But you…”

And then his hand reached out and lightly brushed my cock. I almost ran, but the way he brushed it, and the way his eyes watched me, made me pause. Instead of turning away from him, I turned to face him.

I couldn’t move. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

He faced me. “I’m not that experienced… but you’re cute… yeah… the accent… I like that.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you probably already know you are,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. I screwed my eyes shut for a second.

He laughed, and stepped in. “What would happen if I did this?”

I watched his lips move closer to mine, before they reached me, his hand pressed into my bulge.

When his hand turned, his palm cupping my cock, squeezing it, his lips were already on mine.

I swallowed, still trying to catch up. I pulled my lips away and looked around quickly, checking for cameras.

“We’re alone, and no cameras here. Only outside,” he said, his other hand moving up to my shoulder to hold me in place. It was like he sensed I was still on the verge of flight. His grip on my shoulder steadied me more than anything I’d said or thought.

“That feel good?” he said, his breath on my lips. His eyes were intense, that deep blue just diving deep into me, making it practically impossible to function.

“I guess,” I said, leaving my hands hanging by my sides.

Both his hands came together. I felt him fumbling with my button, then my zipper. He undid me, his hands cupping me through the fabric as my shorts dropped to the floor with a thud. I hoped my phone had survived that fall as I swallowed.

I noticed the scar above one eyebrow raise up when his eyebrow did, while he studied me.

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“Are you married? Partnered?” he asked me, as one hand pulled my boxer shorts away from me and the other dove in.

His hand was warm as it slid around my shaft. I closed my eyes and sucked in breath.

“Um… no. Single. And you?”

He smiled, then spoke while nodding. “Recently single. She wasn’t worth it.”

I smiled. “Many of them aren’t.”

“You seem worth it though,” he said, then grinned.

I laughed. He leaned in again and this time I let him kiss me.

His lips were warm, I felt the jolt of his touch all the way down my body and in my chest. Especially when his hand gripped me and slowly jerked me.

I sucked in breath.

“Good, huh?”

I nodded.

“Don’t mind if you touch mine too,” he said, dipping his eyes down for a moment, before turning back to me and kissing me.

I was curious what his was like, so I reached out and touched it. His shorts really were too tight. I was able to tell it was quite thick, and a decent size. Both hands reached out as his tongue gently pushed into my mouth and met with mine.

The kiss was slow at first, then not as I unbuttoned, unzipped him and explored what was under those shorts.

It throbbed in my hand. And it was hot to the touch.

I felt myself being walked backward, then the shelves pushed into my back. The cold steel pressing into my butt as Jeremy pushed his body into me.

The kissing deepened, his body pressing into mine, his cock pushing against me, the friction blurring the line between us.

I hadn’t kissed a guy before. The scrape of his stubble against my face threw me for a second.

He dropped to his knees, looking up at me once. Made my back tighten before I could stop it.

I watched him grip my shaft, study it, then look back up at me as his tongue ran over the head.

I threw my head back and hit the shelving. I heard him laugh. I was too embarrassed to laugh, so I just looked down.

I held my breath as his mouth opened and took me in, slow at first, then deeper. I sucked in breath, grabbed the shelf on either side of me to steady myself. The heat of his mouth hit hard, almost too much.

“Jesus!” I whispered, as if anyone was around to hear us.

He sucked me as I stood. I tried to regulate my breath, but his mouth swallowed all of it. I couldn’t hold onto a single thought.

Jeremy’s hands moved behind me, gripping my ass, then down my legs, dragging through the hair there.

Jeremy sucked me, bringing me close, then easing off before I tipped, like he knew exactly where I was. His mouth left me just long enough to keep me there before taking me back in again.
He stood suddenly, wiping his mouth, a wide grin already there.

“Gonna try mine?”

I stared for a moment. “Never actually done it.”

“Just… whatever feels right,” he said, quieter than before.

I wanted to laugh. I wasn’t even sure I could do it.

As if to give me encouragement, he leaned in and kissed me, then stood back, with that ever-present grin.

I looked around, though I’m not sure why as I knew we were alone.

I crouched, looking at it properly. It was cut. I hadn’t expected that. And it was thicker than mine.

I closed my eyes and put it in my mouth. His hands reached behind my head and he gently, but forcefully pulled me onto his cock. I began to laugh, which made my mouth widen and then his cock slipped all the way in.

I spat it out and leaned against the shelving unit and stared up.

He grinned. “Sorry, just being an ass!”

I nodded. “Doing a great job!”

But I took it in my hand and gave it another shot. This time, he didn’t pressure me. I took it slow and let the thickness of it slide along my tongue. It didn’t feel as weird as I thought. In fact I liked the softness of his skin and the firmness of his cock as it slid into my throat.

I tried to suck it as he had done mine, slowly using my hand to tighten around the shaft while he helped build momentum and fuck my mouth.

“Oh, man that’s good!” he said, his hands tightening at my head.

I kept going.

“You’ll make me nut!”

I spat it out and shot up, almost losing my balance.

He reached around me and put his hands behind my head, then kissed me while he began to jerk off.

We kissed, while we jerked ourselves off. I kept looking down and watching how both of us tugged. Then his tongue would lick my lips and we would kiss again.

He kissed like he meant it.

“We gonna shoot here?” I asked him, realizing I was really close.

“U-huh,” he said, his face reddening and his jaw tightening.

I loved the smell of him as my load began to build. Seconds later, I gripped him with one arm while I jerked and watched as he erupted.

His shot up across the back room, even onto the shelves. Thick streaks of cum splashed onto the metal shelves, then dripped.

Mine didn’t squirt as much, but still hit his leg, and across the concrete floor.

“Fuck!” he said, huffing as the last of his dripped onto the floor.

I threw my head back as I finished, exhaling and releasing. I felt all the weight of me suddenly hit and I wanted to sit down.

He laughed. “You know how long I’ve fantasized having someone come out the back here while I’ve been working?”

I felt myself grin. “A long time, I bet.”

He nodded, his grin widening. “That was hot. You come in this late again, I won’t complain.”

We both laughed.

“Thanks, I might. I haven’t done much with guys, have you?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “Well, it’s been a long time, but yeah, I did a few years back. Out of a relationship so feeling some experimentation coming on.”

I nodded as I pulled my shorts up, watching him do the same. It wasn’t even awkward. I had expected that post-nut weirdness, but it didn’t come.

He adjusted himself, then looked around at the mess. “Suppose I better clean that up before I get out of here.”

“Let me help you. It’s half my mess, after all,” I said.

He turned to me. “You’re really hot. I’d be happy if you hung around and talked to me a bit while I cleaned up.”

When he leaned in and put his lips to mine, I didn’t even flinch.

“What’s your name?” he asked me.

“Sean,” I said. “Assume you’re Jeremy.”

He turned and stared, then shook his head. “Nope, that’s my colleague. I’m Ash.”

“Oh. I just assumed…” I began.

He waved it away, then walked off to get some cleaning products.

We chatted for a few minutes as he cleaned up. I tried to help, but the man formerly known as Jeremy shook his head and cleaned up. It didn’t take him long.

“So, what’s your plans tonight? Lots of home renovations?” Ash asked me.

I smiled. “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t ya?”

Ash cleaned up, then led us out to the front and to the counter.

I moved around the counter, and got my wallet out and watched Ash ring up my items.

“So, got much on tonight?”

I stared and wondered why he’d asked me again.

“No, not really. I just moved here from Texas. New job, new house, gotta make new friends. Probably will do some renovations. What about you?”

He totaled the items, and took my card. “No plans. I was wondering if you want to get a beer later. Maybe even explore some more.”

My heart kicked. We’d barely known each other thirty minutes. I felt the request and I nodded.

“Yeah, fuck it. Why not?”

I paid, walked out, and sat in my car for a minute with the engine off.

I wasn’t into guys.

I stared at my phone.

Then I texted him.

Please comment, like, share. Please let me know what you think? 10 restacks and it gets a sequel.

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My wonderful foxy community. There’s a part one here, and a part two here. Enjoy. If you’re looking for a story that will make use of those tissues, please see The Pleasure Hole or The Gardener or even Sweat and Sawdust.

That first week Rodney proved himself more than once. By the time the sun was starting to burn through his shirt, Levi was about to call out to him, but stopped when he realized Rodney had already hauled the feed sacks, shoveled the stalls, and fixed the west hinge before Levi had even got near it.

Levi stood at the water trough with the hose loose in his hand, watching him.

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The air smelled like warm hay and damp wood, that thick late-morning heat already rising off the ground. Flies hovered low over the trough, skimming the surface before lifting again, lazy but persistent. Somewhere behind him a gate creaked in the wind, and the horses shifted in the paddock, leather and metal clinking soft and familiar.

Rodney stretched his shoulders back slowly for a moment, like he was easing something out of them, then took his hat off and tipped his face up into the sun.

Sweat ran down the side of his neck, catching in the hollow of his collarbone before disappearing under his shirt. Dust clung to his forearms, darkened where it stuck to sweat.

He looked like he belonged here more than Levi did.

Levi watched him a second too long.

He shook his head and turned back to the trough. The hose rattled softly against the rim, water hitting with a steady slap, rising inch by inch.

By the time Levi heard it, it was too late. Hooves, fast and too close, then something slammed into his back and knocked the air out of him, sending him straight into the trough.

Cold water punched through the heat, stealing his breath as he went under.

Levi came up coughing, water running out of his nose, the taste of metal and algae in his mouth. His shirt clung heavy to his chest, dragging at him as he pushed up. His hat floated beside him, turning slow circles.

He turned just in time to see Simon tearing around the barn, legs going everywhere, like he couldn’t even keep up with himself.

“Mom! It’s time to cook the fucking lamb!”

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Please see The Farmhand 1.

Levi stood at the entrance to his private space and watched John. The horse stared back, calm and unbothered, like none of this had anything to do with him.

“You can’t work on my farm. We’re not looking for anyone,” Levi said, putting his hat back on and turning back to Rodney.

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“Sure I can. You’re just thrown because we got the awkward part out of the way first. You haven’t seen me work yet. I’ll sweat all day, make your parents proud. Then we get to fool around while everyone else is wasting money trying to get laid.”

Levi shook his head. “You’re crazy if you think I want that.” He stepped out into the paddock and reached for John anyway.

Rodney finished buttoning his shirt, put his hat on, picked up his backpack and followed. He came up close, hand landing on the back of Levi’s shoulder.

Levi knocked it away and turned, brow tightening, eyes narrowing.
“Don’t touch me again.”

Rodney was close enough that Levi caught the smell of his mother’s soap on his skin.

Rodney grinned like they were besties, but stayed too close.
“I’ll make you a deal. I don’t bring it up, don’t touch you, don’t do anything unless you start it. Rest of the time, I’m just the help. I need the work, and I’ve got a good reference.”

Levi folded his arms. “Why’d you leave the last farm? Playing with their boys too?”

Rodney looked him over, slow, still smiling.

“Told you, I’ve never done anything with a guy before. Glad I waited though, you were a hell of a first. I’d appreciate you keeping it between us. Farm got sold anyway, new owners don’t need hands, just machines.”

Levi rubbed his chin, thinking.

“It’s a secret, and it’s not happening again. I don’t swing that way. You can meet Dad and it’ll be up to him.”

Rodney nodded, that same grin stuck in place.

Levi studied him. “What’s wrong with you anyway? Everything funny to you?”

Rodney shook his head. “Just my face, I guess, always looks like I’m smiling. Can’t help it.”

Levi held his gaze a moment longer, then used a small stool to swing up onto John. Once settled, he reached down and offered a hand.

“Get on.”
Rodney slung his backpack and took Levi’s hand.
Levi felt the grip before the pull, rough palm, steady, warmer than he expected. Levi was strong enough that Rodney was able to swing up behind him in one smooth motion.

He settled in close, his chest meeting Levi’s back as his arms came around his waist. His thighs tightened to anchor himself, the weight of him solid and immediate.

Levi stiffened as he felt it all at once.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Levi said, nudging John forward.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rodney said, his voice low, almost amused, right near Levi’s ear. “You start it or it doesn’t happen. I don’t break my word.”

Levi nodded, jaw tight, and pushed John into a faster pace.

“Good. Glad that’s settled.”

But it wasn’t.

The horse moved into a steady rhythm beneath them, each stride rolling through Levi’s hips, through his spine, straight into the man pressed up behind him. Rodney adjusted with it, naturally, like he’d ridden plenty, his body staying close, moving with Levi instead of against him. He didn’t fight the movement, just fell into it, matching Levi without thinking, like he’d been riding with him a long time.

The heat built fast under the sun, trapped between them, sweat starting where their bodies met. Levi could feel the shape of Rodney against his back, the pressure shifting with every step, every breath, every small adjustment as the horse picked up speed. He could feel Rodney’s stiff cock pushing into the back of his jeans.

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Levi had to think about Simon so he could force his own erection to go away.

Rodney’s grip tightened, fingers spreading against Levi’s stomach to steady himself, his breath warm against the side of Levi’s neck making it almost impossible to stay soft.

Neither of them said anything.

The only sounds were the horse, the wind, and the quiet, constant friction of two bodies that were not supposed to fit this easily together.

When they arrived back at the farmhouse, Levi leaned forward so Rodney could jump off.

His dad was sitting on the porch with an iced tea.

“Who’s that you got?” he called out.

“This here’s Rodney. Apparently Miller told him we’re looking for a farmhand. Told him we got it covered, but he insisted.”

Once Rodney hit the ground, Levi slid off too, almost losing his balance. Rodney quickly steadied him, but Levi pushed him away.

Jack put his drink down and came down the stairs.

“I’m Jack, I see you already met my son, Levi,” his dad said, walking over with his hand extended.

Rodney moved to Jack and their hands came together with a slap. Rodney held his gaze when he spoke, easy and direct, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

“Really good to meet you sir. Miller spoke highly of you and your family. He knows Bob and the farm I came from if you want a reference. Or you can call them.”

Jack nodded and smiled. “No need, I’m a good judge and you look good. Start today and consider it a trial. Work hard, you stay, we’re pretty simple like that.”

Rodney nodded, ever-grinning. “Thank you sir, you won’t regret it. Show me where you want me and I’ll do the rest.”

Jack nodded at Levi.

“You stick with Levi, he knows the farm better than anyone.”

“I will sir, thank you. I won’t let you down,” Rodney said, tipping his hat in Jack’s direction.

Sally came out a moment later.

“I heard voices that aren’t my family’s,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron and coming down toward Rodney.

Introductions were made. Sally stepped back to appraise Rodney as she nodded.

“Looks good. Fit and strong, you’ll do fine,” she said.

Rodney nodded, but something shifted behind his eyes, and for just a second the grin almost disappeared.

Levi put John back in his paddock with the other horses and turned to Rodney as he walked.

“How come you don’t even have your horse anyway?” He asked Rodney, but only glancing back at him briefly as he walked.

“Wasn’t an option. Didn’t earn a lot where I was. Hoping to make more and start earning more.”

Levi’s expression didn’t soften as he led him around the farm and introduced him to the animals. When he got to the lamb, he shook his head and grinned.

“This is Simon, he’s just gone four months. Thinks he’s the farm bully, so watch your back, he hurts.”

Simon watched Rodney carefully, as if assessing him as they walked past. The lamb then took a short, aggressive hop toward Rodney like he meant it.
But Rodney didn’t move back, he just looked down at him, that smile never leaving his face.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Rodney said, calm as anything.

Levi watched him for a second. Most people stepped back the first time.

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They walked for a while, in a comfortable silence. Just boots on dirt and animals shifting around them as Levi showed him around the farm.

Later that afternoon, Rodney and Levi finished chores, had dinner with the family and a beer.

Jack and Sally asked Rodney lots of questions, while Lora batted eyelids at him from across the table.

Levi could tell his parents liked Rodney. Listening to Rodney talk, and having watched him work, he could see why.

Jack’d had too many beers and his words slurred a little. “There’s a spare bedroom upstairs for you,” he told Rodney.

“Room’s just made up,” Lora said, smiling sheepishly.

Levi rolled his eyes at her but said nothing.

“Levi sleeps in the old barn during the summer,” Jack said, “where you met today.”

“That sounds fun, actually,” Rodney said, grinning at Levi.

“Yeah, it is,” Levi said, then added, “don’t mind if you want to sleep there too.” Levi said it like it didn’t matter, then didn’t look at him again.

Jack recounted old farm stories the family had heard too many times, but Rodney laughed and encouraged the family man.

A while later, Levi stood and yawned.

“Gonna go crash. You can sleep upstairs or come with me, doesn’t matter to me,” Levi said, getting up and moving away from the table.

“I’ll come. Too nice to sleep indoors, if you don’t mind,” Rodney said.

Levi shrugged. “Sure.”

“He’s so polite!” Sally said to Jack, as if Rodney wasn’t within earshot.

“He’ll turn out just fine!” Jack said, nodding at Rodney.

Both Levi and Rodney tipped their hats, then headed out.

As Levi led the way over to the paddock, he turned to Rodney and said, “you can ride Matt, he’s Lora’s horse but she doesn’t ride much anymore. Want me to saddle him?”

Rodney shook his head and walked alongside Levi.

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll ride bareback.”

Levi didn’t see the grin on Rodney’s face as he opened the paddock and led Rodney to Matt and introduced them.

“Matt’s really easy, used to my sister who’s a slow rider. But wait here a minute, and give him this carrot. He’ll be fine in a minute,” Levi cautioned him.

Levi pushed through the gate ahead of him, then swung up and led the way out past the main yard, leaving the house behind them.

The light had dropped low across the fields, the sun slipping under the horizon, leaving everything washed in that last stretch of gold that never lasted long enough.

Dust lifted under the horses’ hooves and hung in the air behind them. The fences cut long shadows across the ground. The trees along the edge of the property stood dark against the sky, the color draining out of everything except the light still clinging to the tops of the grass.

Levi didn’t look back at the house.

He kept his eyes ahead, on the open stretch of land, listening to the steady rhythm of the horses and the second set of hooves just behind him, close enough that he could hear Rodney shift in the saddle, close enough that he didn’t need to turn to know he was still there. He could tell where Rodney was by the sound of the saddle and the way the horse moved behind him.

The air cooled slightly as they rode, but the heat of the day hadn’t fully let go yet. It sat low, trapped in the ground, rising up around them with every step.

Levi rode a little faster, a light sheen of sweat still visible on his skin.

Rodney stayed close behind him.

Matt suddenly veered sideways to avoid something in the grass. Rodney swore under his breath, grabbing on, his leg slipping just enough to throw him off balance before he recovered. His hat went flying and one arm flailed for a few seconds.

It was enough. Levi burst out laughing, and slowed, then turned to watch Rodney struggle.

Matt straightened and came up alongside John as though nothing had happened, while Rodney was a little askew on the horse.

Rodney began laughing too. For a second they just looked at each other, both still grinning.

Then Levi looked away first.

“I promise I can ride!” he said.

Levi’s laughter slowed. “Oh yeah? Hope I get to see that.”

They were near enough to the old barn for them to slide off the horses and retrieve Rodney’s hat. They walked the short distance to the old barn.

“This one time, John here saw a snake, veered off under a tree branch and knocked me off. I was left high up hanging off a tree. I was still hanging there ten minutes later when Lora came looking for me,” Levi told Rodney, as they entered the barn.

Rodney grinned. “I bet you never heard the end of it with her.”

Levi nodded.

They put the horses in the barn and let them roam free.

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“They okay not tied up?” Rodney asked him, as Levi went up the ladder to the upper barn area and turned the radio on.

Tyler Childers’ voice filled the barn from the stereo speakers, the familiar chords on the guitar as he sang Feathered Indian.

“The horses? Oh yeah, they’re not going anywhere. It’s all fenced off anyway, even if something spooked them, they’d just head back to the house. Someone would bring them right back.”

Levi threw his hat on a pole with hooks on it, then unbuttoned his shirt and hung it up. Rodney lay on the makeshift couch, one arm behind his head, looking up at the beams like he was settling in.

“You’ve got this all set up out here,” he called out as Levi headed down the ladder.

Levi shrugged when he reached the bottom, then stripped off and turned the shower on.

“Did it myself,” he called out.

The water was cold, but Levi was used to it, he grabbed the soap and washed himself all over. He soaped his butt, his balls, around his thighs and his legs and down to his toes. When he turned to put the soap down and rinse his body, he realized he was being watched. As he turned to his right and looked up, he saw Rodney lying on his side, one hand holding his head up. Still watching Levi with that same easy look on his face.

“Enjoying the show?” Levi asked.

Rodney nodded slowly. “Yeah, you have no idea.”

He grabbed a towel from the nearby shelving unit and dried himself off, then took his night clothes off a rack and dressed.

“You literally live in the barn through the summer,” Rodney said, as Levi came up the ladder barefoot.

“Yeah, I love it. Got the place to myself. Nobody bothers me. It’s great quiet time.”

Levi walked to his hammock, then turned the radio down just as Willie Nelson’s voice filled the space.

“Like your music, we have similar tastes I think,” Rodney said, turning over to face Levi.

Levi adjusted the hammock, then lay on it and let it swing gently.

“Thanks. What kind of music do you listen to?” he asked Rodney.

“Mostly country, I guess. Not big on pop, maybe some rock music. I guess it depends, what about you?”

Levi’s hands gripped the sides of the hammock as it slowly swayed.

“Kinda the same, yeah. Mostly country, don’t mind some pop, but this station’s done alright by me.”

They nodded along to songs as they played, both lying in their respective places.

“I heard your sister mention Rebecca, I think it was a jab at ya. Was that your ex?”

Levi nodded. “Yeah. Don’t listen too much to my sister, she’s about to marry a loser called Robbie and move off the farm. She thinks we should all marry losers, according to her it’s better than being on your own.”

Rodney laughed. “Unfortunately, it’s not just your sister with that philosophy.”

“Right? All the guys I went to school with are getting hitched to girls I swear they never used to like. I’m not in a hurry. Rather wait for the right one.”

“Amen to that,” Rodney said.

“What’s your story? You left someone behind?”

Rodney shook his head. “Nah, last one was early last year. Problem with small towns is not a lot to pick from.”

Levi laughed. “Oh, you’re in for a real treat then, Rodney. Welcome to slim pickings.”

Rodney grinned. “Yeah? Well, just have to get used to jerking off then.”

They were quiet for a while, listening to more music. Rodney hummed along, then whistled to some of the chorus.

Levi’s voice cut through eventually, “does that jerking off happen when you shower?”

Rodney grinned. “When it does, I’ll let you know, so you can watch.”

Levi was glad his face was hidden in the hammock when he grinned too. “Oh, you mean warn me so I can leave the barn.”

“Don’t lie. I know you liked watching me shower, and then jerking off with me.”

“Definitely didn’t. You got me at a weird moment. I hadn’t shot my load for a few days, is all.”

Rodney smiled. “If you believe that, then that’s okay. Just don’t expect me to buy it. I was there.”

Levi laughed softly, and after a few moments, he turned the music off. They were plunged into a sudden quiet. Outside, there were crickets spread across the farm, each singing their own song. One of the horses downstairs muttered something once.

It was quiet for a few minutes.

A while later, Rodney spoke softly.

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“You said out here nobody bothers you. You prefer being on your own?”

Levi thought about it. “Sometimes, I guess. Do you?”

Rodney shifted on the couch.

“Nah… not really.”

“I can tell,” Levi said.

Rodney laughed softly. “You ever think about leaving the farm? Seems like that would be a pretty tough thing for you to do.”

Levi was quiet a long time before he answered. When he did, his voice was soft, almost too soft.

“It’s not an option,” he said eventually.

Rodney said, “that’s not what I asked you.”

The hammock moved slightly, then Levi’s voice could be heard above the crickets. “Yeah. I fantasized it. Never been beyond this town.”

“What’s your town like?” Levi asked.

“Much like yours, maybe a little bigger. Want to travel some day,” Rodney said. “Just… get out a bit. See something different for once.”

“Can’t even picture it. New York. Chicago. Just the size of them.” Levi was quiet a second, then added, “must be something,” but there was an edge to his voice.

They were quiet again, the crickets filling the silence, then Levi asked Rodney, “so where’s your family? They know you’re here?”

Rodney didn’t respond. For a few minutes, Levi assumed he’d fallen asleep.

Just as Levi was about to drift off, he heard Rodney’s voice.

“I’ll tell them. At some point.”

Rodney Paused.

“Not much family to tell.”

“You’ll like my family,” Levi said. “They’ll take care of you.”

“I already do.”

There’s now a part 3 here.

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Levi was halfway across the yard with two feed buckets when Simon slammed into the back of his leg.

He caught himself before he went down, though one bucket swung wide and spilled grain over his boot. The lamb sprang back at once, bright eyes, crooked knees, already bouncing sideways like the whole thing had been planned

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From the fence, Lora laughed.

“You can almost hear him laughing.”

Levi glanced back at her. “You’d think by now someone would threaten to eat him.”

“You say that every week and Mama still loves him more than you.”

“That’s because he’s small, smart, and scheming. Makes people protective.”

Lora grinned and shifted the egg basket on her hip. She had Jack’s old coat over her nightdress and her braid was half done, already loosening in the wind. Standing there laughing, she looked a lot like Levi would if someone threw a wig on him. Same blond hair and the same strong face. Sally liked to say you could cut Lora’s hair short and get another Levi.

John stood in the paddock beyond them, chewing straw and watching the yard with the tired patience of a schoolmaster.

Levi set the bucket down, jumped, and caught Simon under the belly in one quick move. The lamb kicked once in outrage as Levi tucked him against his side.

“There,” he said. “Let’s see how funny he is now.”

“Still very funny,” Lora said.

“Traitor.”

The yard was already awake. Chickens scratched under the porch steps. One of the barn cats sat on the woodpile washing its face like none of this concerned it. The air smelled like feed, damp earth, and old hay.

He carried Simon back to the pen and dropped him inside. The lamb stared up at him a moment, then tore off across the grass like being penned had only improved his mood.

From the back door Sally called, “If that lamb gets in my kitchen again I’m making stew.”

“Mama,” Lora shouted back, “you said that yesterday and kissed him ten minutes later.”

“I can threaten and love at the same time. That’s motherhood.”

Jack stepped out onto the porch with his coffee. Suspenders over his undershirt, boots unlaced, gray creeping into the same blond hair Levi had inherited. He leaned on the porch post and looked over the yard the way he always did before breakfast, slow and quiet, checking things without saying so.

The truck sat where it belonged. The barn door still hung crooked. Levi was by the feed bins, and Lora had the egg basket, doing more laughing than gathering.

Then Jack looked at Levi. Just a second, eyes going to his face and then away, like he was checking something he didn’t want noticed. Levi had been noticing it more often lately and couldn’t decide if it was worry or something he didn’t have a word for. Either way he didn’t like it.

“Morning,” Jack said.

“Morning.”

“You feed the hens yet?”

“I was on my way before I got attacked.”

Jack nodded toward Simon’s pen. “That one’s going to be trouble when he’s grown.”

“He’s trouble now.”

“Same could be said for half this family,” Sally muttered, disappearing back inside.

Lora headed for the henhouse while Levi scooped the spilled grain back into the bucket. The chickens were already crowding the door like they’d filed a complaint.

“You going into town Saturday?” Lora called.

Levi tipped grain into the trough. “Why.”

“Just asking.”

“You don’t just ask.”

“Well,” she said, “Robbie and I will be.”

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Levi leaned on the bucket rim. “Robbie’s always in town. That’s where the audience is.”

She came back out with three eggs and dropped them in the basket.

“He says the mechanic’s shop needs help Saturdays.”

“Before or after the third beer?”

“You’re jealous.”

“Of Robbie.”

“Of his exciting future.”

Levi scattered more feed.

“You could come,” she said. “Claire Watkins is back.”

“So.”

“So she asked about you.”

“And?”

“And Emma Lee.”

“Emma Lee asks about everybody.”

“She asked twice.”

Levi shut the feed bin a little hard.

“She can ask twenty times.”

Lora studied him.

“You’re still pretending Rebecca ruined you.”

“She didn’t ruin anything. I’m just not in a hurry.”

“That was three years ago.”

“When did you become a math genius?”

“She was nice.”

“She’s also long gone.”

“You should’ve married her,” Lora said. “She’d have stayed.”

“I wasn’t marrying anyone at sixteen.”

“You better hurry,” she said. “Before you’re too old for anyone to want you.”

“I’m nineteen,” Levi snapped.

“…I’m just saying Mom and Dad are worrying. They need someone to run this place someday. Robbie’s not sticking around to help them.”

Levi turned toward the house.

As he passed the kitchen window he heard voices.

Jack said something low.

Sally answered, “Lora’s practically married.”

“That boy drinks too much.”

“You judge too much. Leave him be. She loves him.”

“Robbie still owes me twenty dollars.”

Sally lowered her voice.

“And Levi?”

Jack was quiet a moment.

“What about him.”

“You don’t worry?”

“About what.”

“You know what.”

Levi slowed beside the window.

“Three years, Jack,” Sally said.

“He’s nineteen.”

“So was your brother when he married.”

“My brother was an idiot.”

“That’s not the point.”

Jack shifted his chair.

“Our boy works hard and loves this farm.”

“But he never brings a girl around. Not since Rebecca.”

“He’s busy.”

“We’re all busy.”

Levi stood very still.

“Lora will marry Robbie and go,” Sally said. “That’s how it works. Levi’s the one who stays.”

Jack didn’t answer.

“And if Levi doesn’t…”

“Settle,” Jack said.

“Yes.”

“He will.”

“How do you know.”

“I just do. He’s a lot like me, it took me a while too.”

“That’s not a plan,” she said quietly. “Farms don’t run themselves.”

Levi picked up the bucket and walked away before they could say more. He didn’t know why the word settle bothered him. It wasn’t even aimed at him hard. Just said quiet, practical, the way you’d talk about fixing a fence post. And still it sat in his chest wrong, like something he’d swallowed that hadn’t gone down right. He couldn’t have explained it to anyone, so he didn’t try.

He went around the side door and stepped inside just as Lora caught up behind him. Levi washed his hands at the sink while Lora dropped the egg basket on the counter.

Sally had the stove going and biscuits wrapped in a towel. Jack sat at the table with his coffee and the same page of the paper he’d been pretending to read for ten minutes.

“Sit,” Sally said.

Levi did.

For a minute nobody said much. Plates passed, coffee poured, and Lora ate like someone who had already finished half the morning’s work.

Then Sally said, casual as she could manage, “Robbie’s father was asking about the south field.”

Jack didn’t look up from the paper. “Why.”

“Wondering if we’d lease it.”

“We’re not leasing it.”

Lora hid a smile behind her cup.

Sally kept going. “He says Robbie’s been thinking about building out that way.”

Jack finally lowered the paper.

“That boy can barely build a fence.”

“He’s learning.”

“He’s a talker,” Jack said. “That’s what he is.”

Sally tactfully changed the topic, wiping a brow with the back of her hand as she prepared breakfast.

“Are you both out this Saturday? Big festival at the local tavern. Some bands from other towns,” Sally said.

“I’m going with Robbie and some friends,” Lora said, throwing some bread into her mouth.

Levi didn’t say anything.

“You going?” Jack asked, finally turning the page on the paper.

“No. Work to do,” Levi said, taking the insert magazine that fell out of the paper and flicking through it.

“How will you ever meet a girl?” Sally asked, turning to scowl in his direction.

Levi ignored her, unaware all eyes were on him and waited for an answer.

When Levi didn’t say anything, Jack cleared his throat and said, “Which leaves this place needing hands.”

“We’ve got hands,” Levi said.

Jack shook his head.

“Haying starts in two months. Fence needs rebuilding. South pasture’s a mess.”

Sally added quietly, “And we’re not getting younger.” She heaped food on plates and sat down. The family ate together as they talked, while Jack read the paper and Levi leafed through the magazine.

Jack looked at Levi.

“Miller mentioned a fellow looking for work.”

“A farmhand?” Levi said.

“At least for the season,” Sally said. “If he’s good, maybe keep him longer.”

Lora brightened. “That could be nice.”

Jack gave her a look. “He’s here to work, not entertain you.”

They’d barely finished eating when Levi pushed his chair back.

“We don’t need anyone. I can handle it.”

Jack didn’t raise his voice.

“You can’t do it all alone, Levi. And I’m slowing down.”

Levi stood.

“I gotta fix the west hinge before the wind takes the whole door off,” Levi said, and left the kitchen.

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Outside the air was already thickening and building. Levi walked straight to the paddock. John lifted his head when Levi came through the gate.

“You’re the only sane one here,” Levi muttered.

The horse huffed like he’d heard it before.

Levi swung into the saddle bareback. He didn’t bother with a bridle. John knew the path better than Levi did.

They crossed the far pasture at an easy trot. The house got smaller and Levi didn’t look back at it. He thought about what his mother had said, not the words exactly but the shape of them, the way she’d laid out his future like it was already decided and just needed filling in. A wife. Someone to replace her, so Levi could replace his dad. He knew she wasn’t wrong, practically. He just couldn’t get there in his head, couldn’t picture the face or make it feel real no matter how long he tried. Every time he reached for it the image slid away and left him with nothing but the sound of the wind in the grass and John’s easy breathing under him.

At the far edge of the property the old barn leaned into the hill like it had grown there. They still used it for overflow hay, but mostly it belonged to Levi. It was his private sanctuary and nobody dared go there and bother him.

He’d run a power line there last summer. Strung some lights, bought an old stereo, dragged up a battered chair and a hammock. Upstairs there was a loose hay bale he’d carved into something like a couch.

A rusted spigot stuck out of the wall beside the old tack room. Levi had run a hose from it a year ago and nailed a bent shower head to a beam just inside. It wasn’t much, but on hot days it beat riding all the way back to the house to rinse off.

Levi slid off John and pushed the barn door open.

It creaked the way it always did as he stepped inside.

Then stopped.

Someone was already there, using his makeshift shower.

As soon as he walked in, he saw a man’s hairy ass. Apparently the man hadn’t heard Levi enter. Levi almost turned to leave, but then turned and glared. This was his private place, and this was his property. He put his hands on his hips and watched the guy.

Whoever the guy was, he stood about Levi’s height, short dark hair plastered to his head by the water, shoulders wide and heavy with muscle that only comes from hard work. His arms were roped with strength, forearms thick and calloused, his chest dark with hair and sun, the pale marks of old scrapes and scratches crossing his skin like someone who had spent more time around animals and fences than mirrors.

The man must have sensed he was being watched because he suddenly turned.

For a second they just looked at each other. Levi realized the man was younger than he’d first thought.

It was also the first time he’d ever seen another man’s penis. It dangled from an unkept bush, dripping water.

“Hey,” the stranger said, apparently unfazed to be watched while showering naked.

Levi frowned.

“Who are you?”

The man kept washing his hair, rubbing his chest and then moved his hands down to rinse his legs. A pool of soapy water ran in a river toward a grate that was quickly overflowing.

“Rodney.”

He nodded toward the pasture behind Levi.

“Miller said this is where I’d find the farm.”

Levi couldn’t stop staring at the man’s nudity and his cock.

“Why are you using my shower? This is my private place.”

Rodney stared at Levi, a small smirk forming, the corners of his mouth turning up. His eyes were a very clear green.

“Sorry, you’re right, I should have asked. Traveled all night from Old Ridge Town, got dropped off on the wrong side, and noticed people kept their distance in town. Barely slept with all the livestock on the truck. Figured I’d clean up before I knocked on the door.”

Rodney’s clothes were strung up around the barn on various hay bales.

“They’ll dry faster on the outside, there’s a rail you can hang them. Dry in an hour.”

Rodney nodded, then smiled. “Thanks, appreciate that. And sorry again, not my place to take a shower without asking. But as you can imagine, I was desperate.”

Levi softened slightly and nodded. Though trying to keep his eyes on Rodney’s face was proving difficult, especially the way Rodney smiled and occasionally nodded, as if realizing Levi’s discomfort was a game to him.

Rodney had apparently discovered the soap dish, with Sally’s homemade soap in it. He reached down and soaped his balls, and his cock, all while watching Levi watching him.

“Never had another man watch me wash before,” Rodney said, grinning.

Levi turned, and faced the small stairs that led up to his hammock.

“Sorry, you’re right. Shouldn’t stare. Never watched another man wash before either.”

“Please don’t. You can look, it doesn’t bother me. It’s novel I guess for both of us. I like you watching.”

Levi turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “You like being watched?”

Still grinning, Rodney’s shoulders lifted slightly. “Sure. I mean, never happened before. You’re the first guy to watch. I’m digging it.”

Levi swallowed, pressing his boots into the ground, squaring his shoulders.

“Well, just as well. I intend to keep watching, seeing as this here’s my private space and you’re trespassing.”

Rodney grinned, turned to grab the soap again, then faced Levi. His hands moved down to his cock and he began to soap his balls, along the shaft, tugging it a little while he watched Levi.

“Please, be my guest. Or rather, I’ll be your guest. I’m flexible like that,” he said.

Levi watched with fascination as it thickened. Rodney was big, probably the length of his own, and equally as thick. And he had something Levi didn’t have but wished he did.

Foreskin. The head of his cock was a light pink already, even lathered in soap. Rodney dug his fingers under his balls and washed and lathered, the water running down his chest, flattening the hairs there as it trailed down and under his balls. The hairs on his balls hung down wet. The soap and water dripped.

“Are you jerking off?” Levi asked Rodney, his jaw dropping open.

Rodney nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything. He watched Levi, slowly jerked off with his head slightly cocked to one side.

“Looks like your cock enjoys watching as much as mine likes being watched,” Rodney said.

Levi swallowed, quickly adjusting himself. Rodney had been right, Levi’s own cock had gone very stiff, pressing against the tight fabric of his jeans.

Rodney grinned while he jerked off, his tongue occasionally licking his thick lips.

“You should come closer. Standing all the way over there like that, you’re coming off afraid. Nobody’s going to bite ya. Someone might touch you though, and I’m betting you might like that.”

Levi wanted to turn. The entire conversation had already unsettled him. He needed to get on John and race back to the house, tell his dad, maybe call the sheriff and complain. He meant to step to his right, but in his confusion he stepped forward instead.

Rodney turned, turned the tap off, and shook his hair. He faced Levi, then his grin widened. He took a step toward Levi, both hands on his balls and his cock, still wet from the shower.

Levi watched in fascination, though terrified. Why wasn’t he running away? Why was he walking toward Rodney?

Rodney took another step closer, he was within smelling distance. Levi got the whiff of the handmade lavender soap.

Levi stepped forward, his eyes drifting up to Rodney’s green eyes, those dark-red lips, the small button nose, then down the defined muscles in his chest along that hairy navel to his cock.

Up close, it looked big, and thicker than earlier.

Levi licked his lips, tasting dust and sweat, his jeans so tight now they were all he could think about.

“Let me give you some advice, in those jeans, it’s gonna keep hurting until you take it out. Trust me, I learned that a long time ago,” Rodney said, and then his hands reached out to touch Levi’s jeans.

Levi flinched, tried to turn away from him, but felt rooted to the spot.

Rodney’s face was inches from his, and his hands fumbled with Levi’s button, and the zipper.

“Shhhh. Trust me, let me take it out. Then it will feel really good. I promise.”

He felt Rodney’s wet hands reach into his jeans and cradle his cock with his wet hand. Seconds later, he felt his jeans being pulled down and his cock being pulled out. Rodney looked down, his eyes widened and he smiled.

“Holy smoke! You got a big one! Nice girth, long like mine. I bet if we put them close to each other, we might be about the same size!” Rodney said, using both hands to grip Levi’s cock.

Levi’s eyes closed when Rodney’s hands closed in on him. The way he’d been held sent shocks through his body. Nobody had ever touched it, and he was scared he’d nut too quick.

Rodney was so close though, all Levi could smell was the lavender soap and the cool water coming off his skin. But Rodney’s hands were so warm and felt so good around his cock that he really didn’t think he’d last much longer.

Rodney’s cock moved closer. Rodney held it up alongside Levi’s. He’d been right, they were about the same length.

Great. Now what?

Levi thought he might then be released, and they could go back to the safety of distance.

But Rodney pushed their cocks together and squeezed them.

“Damn! Doesn’t that feel good. You ever had another guy’s cock next to yours? I never have. It feels really good!” Rodney said.

Levi’s eyes shot to Rodney. “Really? You seem so confident.”

Rodney shook his head. “Honest. Never done it. Curious about it. The way you walked in watching me, eyes all over my cock and not my face. Realized this was our chance.”

Levi swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry. He was desperate for water.

But Rodney kept jerking their cocks together.

“What do you think? Want to blow our loads together? Then we can get on with our day.”

Levi nodded.

Rodney smiled, but his smile faltered. It was the first time Levi noticed that Rodney was in fact nervous. He moved alongside Levi and put his arm around Levi’s waist.

Together, they jerked themselves off, watching the other.

“There’s a lot of things I want to do with your cock, if I’m honest,” Rodney said.

That was enough. That’s what made Levi suddenly explode. He blew his load in streams across the barn. It went everywhere. It almost reached the shower area.

Rodney grunted loudly as he shot his load. He squeezed Levi’s sides in tighter and then threw his head back.

“Fuck!” he said out loud as he blew his load, squirting in similar directions to Levi.

They panted, struggled to catch their breath as they finally finished.

Levi dropped his head.

“Damn.”

“That was so much fun! I loved it!” Rodney said.

Levi shook his head. “Don’t you feel weird?”

Levi moved away from Rodney, quickly putting his cock away and zipping up, buttoning up his jeans and buckling his belt up.

Rodney shook his head. “Why? That was enjoyable. I really liked it. It’s so much easier with another guy, we don’t have to go to a dance, buy lots of drinks, and hope at the end of the night we get something. We just get our cocks out. It’s a win.”

Levi didn’t say anything to that.

Rodney angled his head and studied Levi.

“You know you liked it. It was easy and fun. I reckon you and I could be friends.”

Levi nodded but his eyes didn’t appear so sure.

“Maybe. What are you doing here anyway?”

Rodney walked over to where his clothes were. Levi watched him from behind. His ass was round, fit, and hairy. Each cheek gently bouncing as he walked.

“Oh, I’m looking for Jack and Sally. They’re looking for a farmhand, and so here I am. Start today, though I’m a bit late.”

Levi stared at him. The man he’d just had his cock out with was about to walk into the house and shake his father’s hand.

“You’re kidding me,” he said. Rodney’s mouth turned up.

“Afraid not.”

Levi turned and looked out through the barn door at John grazing along the fence, slow and unbothered, and wished very hard he was a horse.

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Thank you for reaching over 10 restacks. As promised, here’s a sequel.

There is a Sex Angel 1 and Sex Angel 2 here.

The room changed again.

One second I was standing in the steam and tile of a high school locker room, reliving one of my more athletic life choices. The next second I was sitting on a beige couch that looked like it had been purchased in bulk from the Afterlife Office Supply Catalog.

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Across from me sat a man in a cardigan, soft gray, elbow patches and a frighteningly calm expression. He struck me as someone who probably says things like “how did that make you feel?” right before questioning your entire belief system.

A little brass nameplate sat on the desk.

Dr. Martin

Post-Mortem Adjustment Counselor

I turned slowly toward Sex Angel.

“You brought me to therapy?”

Sex Angel flipped a page on his clipboard like this was the most normal sentence anyone had ever spoken.

“Mandatory step in the review process.”

“I died.”

“Yes.”

“So why do I need therapy?”

Dr. Martin smiled too warmly. But I knew that smile, one that said I already know the answer and you’re not going to like it.

“We like to resolve certain… patterns before your final report is submitted.”

I dropped, fell back onto the couch and folded my arms.

“What patterns?”

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Part 1 is here, When the Blinds Closed.

The smell of alcohol, citrus cleaner, and cum hung thick in the air between us.

I had put my shirt back on, but Loughlin seemed perfectly comfortable remaining bare-chested in his usual spot diagonally opposite me.

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“Work’s been okay. Same situation as always, overworked and underpaid,” he said, smiling. He’d used that line before, but I laughed anyway.

“Yeah, I don’t miss working for someone else, but being your own boss does have some downsides,” I said, stretching back on the couch and feeling a lot more relaxed than I had earlier.

Loughlin leaned forward, muscles tensed as he placed his elbows on his knees, a twinkle in his eyes. “A lot of advantages, apparently,” he said.

I shook my head, hiding a grin with the back of my wrist. “I don’t sit around looking out of the windows all day.”

He nodded, but his smile gave him away. “Oh, sure. Only when she opens the blinds, am I right?”

“I see you’re still an asshole,” I said, adjusting myself on the couch slightly.

“Did I tell you about that guy in the office? Wait… I haven’t seen you. Remember the watercooler guy? Used to talk crap to me all the time. Disappeared for a while?”

I nodded. “Oh yeah, the muscular guy? All brawn and no brain? That guy?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah. You should see him now, he’s taking roids or something, even bigger. It’s crazy. Anyway, a few weeks back, I swear he was hitting on me.”

I leaned in, putting my empty glass on the table. “No! Are you sure?”

Loughlin saw my glass and took that as a sign it was his turn, so he got up without prompting, and went to make us both a drink. “Oh, it was obvious enough that the receptionist made a comment about it afterward. He hadn’t realized she’d been in the room.”

I stared at him, waiting, not wanting to rush him.

As Loughlin poured our drinks, he occasionally turned to narrate his story.

“So, we’re in the internal library, and instead of walking around the long table, he decides to squeeze past me. Really close.”

Loughlin paused, moved to the center of the room and used his arms to show me the distance. “Like this. Maybe a foot.”

“As I’m in the middle of pulling out a book on legal framework, his hand lands on my ass and he goes…”

Loughlin glanced at me and smirked slightly.

“...‘Damn, Lough. You been working out? Didn’t know you were hiding all that back here.’”

I blinked.

“And then?” I asked.

Loughlin handed me my drink and sat back down.

“He squeezed it.”

I choked on my drink.

“He what?”

“Yeah,” Loughlin said, leaning back into the couch like he was replaying it. “Not like a slap or anything. Just… grabbed it. Like he was checking something out.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

He shook his head slowly.

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My name is Leandro, and this is unfortunately a tragic but true story. I’ve agreed for Fox to write this on my behalf, on the condition that names are changed, for the innocent and not-so-innocent. Which means my name isn’t really Leandro.

At twenty-one, I was straight, or at least that’s what I told myself. All my friends were straight, my life was straight, my gym was straight, my girlfriend was straight, my roommate was straight, my entire college felt aggressively straight. Straight like cheap cologne in locker rooms and beer sweating through red plastic cups on Friday nights.

The guy I sucked? He was straight too.

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My army of friends believed in a version of me I’d curated since I was six. My roommate Sylva was part of our group, part of my college and a big part of my life. She trusted me, loved me, respected me and believed in me. We’d been living together for nearly two years.

When I met Julia, I did feel something for her. I’d had a string of women I’d dated, sometimes cheating on one to swing to the next. My buddies judged me, but laughed, because I was an insatiable straight man who simply couldn’t get enough. Sylva liked Julia, and it wasn’t surprising when they became friends.

The sex with Julia was good, adequate, perfunctory. Like you fall into after a party with the lights off and the door locked, careful not to think too much about why you’re doing it.

My life was moving toward a decent job, a house with a white picket fence, a woman who’d give me children and probably a dog called Spot. Spot would probably bark at mailmen while I mowed a lawn I didn’t really want.

Cheating was part of my vocabulary. In a strange way, it shielded my other yearning, the one that tried to rear its head but quieted whenever I found another woman.

Then, late one night, after far too much drinking, I saw an ad for a sex site. As soon as I saw it, I knew what the site was about. All the cocks, all the asses, all the bodies that had hair and no breasts.

Alone, I secretly joined this site with a name that was as fake as my life.

When JockDad34 messaged my blank profile, I was immediately taken by his chest, his arms, the hairy chest and the delicious cock. Oh, that cock.

I told JockDad34 what I told myself, that I was straight, I had no intention of hooking up with a man but had simply been curious.

“Me too, buddy. I’m discreet, just here to chat,” he texted me that night.

“Just wanted to see what the site was about,” I lied, zooming in on his cock.

“Can I see more of you?” he asked me, sending me a different angle of the same cock. Then another of his perfectly shaped, hairy ass.

I sent him expiring pics, freshly taken.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone, but given we’re both straight, I mean… if you wanted to …we could…” he responded.

“I’m not sure I could, where abouts are you exactly?” I asked, far too curious for my own health.

Was it too much coincidence that this hot daddy was just around the corner?

“There’s a hotel between us,” he suggested, “I’ve been wondering what their rooms are like.”

That hotel was even closer to me. I could walk there in less than three minutes. That is, if by some strange circumstance, I did in fact go and meet him.

“Not that I’m going to meet you, but if we were to meet, what would we do?” I asked, punching out the words on my phone, the blue light washing over my face, while I kept glancing over my shoulder at an empty room that suddenly didn’t feel empty.

“We can just touch each other’s cocks. You seem to like my ass, you can touch it. That’s all, and see what else happens,” he wrote. Minutes later, he told me he’d booked the hotel, that he’d go there and wait for me. No pressure.

Thirty minutes after he’d arrived at the hotel, he messaged me to remind me that it was okay if I didn’t go. And also to let me know that I could walk in past reception, go straight to the lifts and up to his floor.

I could already see the hallway in my head, muted carpet, low lighting, the faint hum of air conditioning and the anonymous smell of lavender cleaner that clings to places like that.

Twenty minutes after that, I followed his instruction, and found myself outside room 422, my hand hovering, but not quite ready to knock. I could hear my pulse in my ears, feel it in my fingertips, as if my body already knew what I was about to do.

But I did knock.

When JockDad34 opened the door, I saw his face for the first time and sucked in a breath. My knees went weak, my heart paused and my sensibilities went on vacation. He was very handsome, a light dusting of grays in his light beard, muscular and fit, with green eyes that made me forget why I’d promised myself I wouldn’t turn up.

I stood inside his room, the alcohol having numbed my sensibilities, but already beginning to wear off. To make things worse, he was as nervous as I felt. We stood, both of us shifting from one leg to the other, looking at points around the room, then at each other, and then at the door.

I might have even eyed the window at one point.

“Do you want a drink? My name’s Richard, by the way,” he told me.

“Leandro,” told him, “and yes, please,” I added quickly.

Minutes later, with an overpriced beer in one hand, I sipped it like it could give me courage as we sat on the bed, hardly talking.

“You’ve never done anything with a guy?” he asked me.

I nodded, sure I’d already told him that. “And you?”

He shook his head, then said, “nope, not since I was eight. But that was just experimentation.”

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My horny foxes. This is a slow buuuurn I came up with today. I hope you like it. Fox

She had porn on again. Two black guys pounding a fit asian girl while she showered and dressed. I knew what that meant, someone was on their way over. I placed bets with myself: the 6’4 basketballer, the movie star, or the lawnmower guy from down the street. I figured by the porn she was watching alone that she was in the mood for the basketballer.

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The blinds in her living room were already up. They always were on nights like this.

I closed the lid on my laptop, poured myself a stiff gin, pulled out my tissues, some lube, my binoculars, pulled my pants and briefs off and dimmed the lights. I sat back, sipping the gin, feet on the desk and waited. My office was so quiet I could hear ice cracking in my drink.

It wasn’t like I had to go looking for it. I just happened to have the best seat on the street.

Sabine took very long showers, I often wondered how big her water bills were, given she lived alone since she kicked the jock boyfriend out. Unfortunately for me, her bathroom windows were stained glass and frosted, and so I had to sit in the shadowy office next door, waiting for her to come out. She never closed the bedroom blinds though. Never once.

Minutes later, lights in her bathroom went off and she strolled out, steam curled into the hallway behind her, catching the light. My cock twitched, the air around me feeling warmer.

She was naked as expected, body still glistening from the shower, legs still looking like they’d carried her to more than Yoga, Pilates, and the gym. She paused at the end of the bed for a few extra seconds, stretching, turning slightly toward the window.

They were the type of legs I wanted to spend a weekend devouring.

I knew her routines better than I know most of my friend’s birthdays. I knew Sabine’s perfume rituals, she selected them based on the porn, which was often an indicator for the type of guy. She always applied it facing the window, wrists lifted, throat exposed, like she was offering it up to the night. Sometimes I wondered if she held it there a second longer for me.

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She threw on the heels I knew she hated. I overheard her tell a girlfriend they looked like Asian prostitute heels. She stood in them for a second, checking her reflection, then glanced toward my building before turning away. I often had the compulsion to wave, but that was unnecessary. We both knew this dance.

I figured I knew who was coming over. I loved watching him pound her. He always did it with his butt to the window, like he’d been told where to stand, I got to watch his balls smack into her while he leaned in and sucked on her nipples.

The movie star.

Sabine looked incredible when she left her bedroom and disappeared from view. I couldn’t see the rest of the house, so I had to resort to waiting for him to turn up.

Then he turned up and I stood, walked to the window and got a closer look.

Loughlin. No. She’d kicked him out months earlier after a fiery argument. He accused her of cheating, she accused him of jerking off to bi porn and not giving her enough attention.

He stepped out of his sports car, box of chocolates in one hand, keys twirling in his fingers with the other. The engine ticked behind him, and his headlights blinked off seconds later.

Blonde hair, almost ginger, blue eyes, flawless skin. Fit. When we lived next door, we played squash together.

My eyebrows were raised so high they almost blended into my receding hairline. I watched as he strolled to the front door, knocked once and looked around. His eyes cast my way, and I instinctively leaned back, though there’s no way he could have seen me.

Moments later, I heard their voices, and he went inside. I sat back down, and prepared myself. I hadn’t jerked off to them together in quite some time. He had a great thick, hairy butt, smooth balls, and solid legs.

I had to wait while they did whatever thing it was before they went into the bedroom. I never saw them go in with a drink, so probably just some flirting and perfunctory conversation, dragging it out for reasons that had nothing to do with thirst.

Surprised as I was to see him, I poured myself another drink and waited.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any weirder, less than five minutes after he’d entered her house, I watched him exit the front door.

Moments later, Sabine entered her bedroom, walked to the window, looked across at me, then closed her blinds. The room went dark in one smooth pull of the blinds, like a curtain falling mid-scene.

That wasn’t part of the routine.

Loughlin walked to his car, looked back at the house and scratched his head like he’d walked out of a rehearsal that hadn’t even started.

I put my pants on and finished my drink, confused as to what had happened. My pulse hadn’t even settled. With the lights still out, I left my office and walked down the hall to the front of my house, overlooking her drive so I could see him better. From my main window, I could see that his car was still there, but I couldn’t see him.

As I went to the window, there was a knock at my door. I walked to the window, craned my head and looked out.

Standing under my porch lights was Loughlin, facing me. He wasn’t looking at the door, he looked directly at me.

I went to the door, checked myself over and took a breath, then opened it.

“Hey Mark, how are you?”

I stared, dumbfounded. “Hey, Loughlin. I’m well thank you, how about you? This is a surprise… “ I left a gap and hoped he’d fill it.

He stood, smiling. I pushed the screen door open and held it out. “Is everything okay?”

Loughlin held the screen door open, and moved forward. “Yeah, all good. Just came to see Sabine, but didn’t go well.”

I was too curious, so I stepped back. “Come in buddy, sorry to hear that. Do you want a drink?”

He stepped in, closing the door behind him. There was a strange, vibrating energy coming off him, a frustration that seemed to fill the narrow space between us as he ran a hand through his blonde hair and offered a tired, crooked smile. It was disorienting to see the three-dimensional reality of his shoulders and the way his chest rose and fell.

“Yeah,” he said, following me around the couch and going to his old usual seat. The last time he’d sat there we’d talked long into the night about his fear of the relationship ending.

“Sabine said to say hi, and sorry there’s no show tonight,” he said, smiling in a way that made me feel like I’d forgotten to put my pants on.

“...oh, er…I…” I walked to the corner and pulled down the panel, revealing the alcohol while my cheeks burned.

“...don’t worry about it buddy. We know you watch, to be honest it’s kind of why she leaves the blinds open. Used to bother me, but then I got used to it. She loves to be watched.”

I swallowed, needing another drink because my throat had dried up.

I didn’t face Loughlin, but said, “same as usual? Scotch and soda?”

He shifted when I turned to him. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, picking at the material in his jeans.

“Yeah, thanks.”

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I got the soda from the small fridge, and poured it. When I faced him, I paused. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a peeping Tom, it’s just that…”

Loughlin lifted a hand, and waved away my excuses. “Honestly, as I said, it didn’t bother me toward the end. She loves it, or she wouldn’t leave them open.”

Even though I smiled, I felt my heart hammer in my chest as I brought him his drink.

He accepted it with a nod, and drank a third immediately. “Thanks, really needed that.”

I sat down opposite, a fresh gin in front of me. “So, given we’re being open and honest, what happened?” I asked, hiding my curiosity behind my drink as I sipped it.

He sat there in his usual spot on the couch with his legs spread wide, his knees taking up half the space and making the denim of his jeans strain against his thighs in a way that reminded me exactly of how they looked when he was braced against Sabine’s headboard.

I couldn’t stop my eyes tracing the solid line of his quads. I had spent too many nights memorizing the way those muscles flexed while he worked, and seeing them now, three-dimensional and radiating heat just a few feet away, made my pulse thud in my ears.

He looked heavy and fit, his broad shoulders filling out the back of the couch while he leaned his head back and let out a long, frustrated sigh that made his chest expand and pull his shirt tight across his nipples. The ginger-blonde hair on his arms caught the light as he swirled his scotch, and I realized that having him here was a hell of a lot more intense than watching him through a lens, especially since he was sitting there so casually after essentially catching me with my pants down.

He took a slow sip of his drink and watched me over the rim of the glass with those blue eyes, looking completely unbothered by the fact that I’d been jerking off to him for months, and I felt a fresh wave of heat crawl up my neck as I wondered if he was waiting for me to say something or if he was just enjoying the way I was falling apart under his gaze.

I had to say something, or my brain would crash. “I’m sorry, Loughlin. Even if she wanted me to watch, and as hard as it was not to, I shouldn’t have.”

Loughlin grinned, finished his drink, then stood and went to pour himself another drink. He turned and asked me, “another?”

I nodded, and stood to hand him my glass.

“Well, now we’re even,” he said, splashing the right amount of gin into my glass, along with two ice cubes.

He remembered.

I waited for him to pour his drink, and to explain his comment.

He came to me, held his drink out and so we clinked glasses, he took another sip and went back to his spot.

“Do you know why we broke up?”

I shook my head and stared. I wasn’t about to admit to also listening to her private conversations when she left the window open.

Then it struck. Had she also done that so I could hear?

He smiled. I liked it when he smiled. Loughlin was a likeable man, I missed his friendship when they’d separated.

“She caught me looking at a lot of porn. I got so addicted to porn that I stopped fucking her. One night, when she was out, I saw you had that girl over, you know… the brunette with big tits?”

I nodded. “Oh, Rina, yeah. I stopped seeing her a while back. Couple months. Probably just after you two split.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Rina. Cute.” He took a big sip, and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you probably don’t realize this, but you don’t always close your blinds.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh… fuck… shit…”

He laughed, then slapped his knee. “Honestly, Mark, it’s not a big deal. We all do it, sometimes accidentally, and sometimes intentionally.”

I shook my head. “Honestly, was unintentional. Sorry…”

We locked eyes for a second, as if something needed to be said that we’d both been holding onto.

“Well, I jerked off watching you two. I’m sorry, and I felt bad about it. I felt worse when Sabine walked in and caught me, standing at the window, peering through.”

I dropped my head, and shook it. “That’s why you said… we’re even,” I said, exhaling loudly.

“Yeah.”

We were silent as we finished our drink. I figured we were taking turns, so I went to my bar and poured us another.

“So, I don’t understand. That’s why you broke up? Because you watched a lot of porn, then me having sex once?”

I returned, holding our glasses out so we could clink them again.

As I sat, Loughlin shifted slightly, legs still spread wide, elbows resting on his knees as he looked up, then back to where I was seated.

“Well, no sex for a while. If I have to be honest, I got bored. And watching you that night, the way you fucked Rina… man… I was really turned on…”

I nodded, still not sure what he meant. He continued to watch me, holding his glass and occasionally taking a sip.

“I guess… it’s like watching porn, except it’s happening live…” I said.

He grinned. “That’s it. You know.”

I nodded, feeling the shame of being caught wash over me again. We might have been even, but I still felt wrong.

“Sabine thinks it’s my ass you’re into. She always positions herself so it’s me you look at,” he said casually, and I also realized his words were softer. The alcohol was having an effect.

“...oh, no! No, not at all. I mean…”

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He waved his hand again, then stood. He shook his glass indicating it was empty. I drained mine, suddenly needing more of the magic substance.

He went to the cabinet, and spoke without looking back at me. “Thing is, you kept watching. She’d lay on the bed, make me fuck her missionary, so you could see my ass. And you kept watching.”

Even after all the gin, my throat was dry again.

I said nothing.

He turned, brought me my gin, and clinked my glass before handing it to me. But he stood there, standing across the coffee table, and smiled.

“So after a while, I realized she was right. And that night, when I watched you fuck Rina, I realized it was your ass I was watching too. So, I became curious.”

He turned, went to the window and looked out at his car on the road. For a minute or so, I heard the house creak, the boiler in the kitchen lighting up, and somewhere, a dog barking down the street before going quiet again. The world carried on, indifferent, while the air in my living room felt thick enough to chew.

His reflection hovered faintly in the glass, shoulders squared, one hand braced against the frame. The porch light cast a soft glow over him, outlining the curve of his neck and the slope of his back beneath his shirt. He exhaled slowly, fogging the pane for a second before it cleared.

My drink sat untouched in my hand. I could hear my pulse in my ears again, and I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or anticipation or something I’d been trying not to voice for months.

He turned back toward me, leaning against the wall beside the window instead of returning to the couch. Closer to the door and closer to me. He didn’t look away this time.

“I didn’t know what to do with that,” he said, voice lower now, stripped of the earlier humor.

“Sabine made it easy to laugh about. But it wasn’t funny. But that’s when she discovered the porn I was looking at.”

I dropped my head. Maybe I’d had too much alcohol, or maybe not enough. When I looked up again, Loughlin walked toward me, and sat next to me.

“I’m not saying I’m bi…” He finished his drink quicker this time, bringing the drink down onto the coffee table much slower.

I felt my breath catch.

“... and when I went over there tonight, we started kissing. It was like it used to be. I wanted it. I wanted her. But then, she grabbed my cock and…”

I swallowed. I knew. “You were soft.”

He nodded, then dropped his head. Loughlin spoke into his lap. “She’s right about one thing, that’s for sure.”

The house was too quiet then, I wished for something to break the silence other than his words.

“Such as?”

He turned to me. “That time we played squash, and sat in the sauna at the club after. I know it wasn’t that well-lit in there, but I could swear you were hard. Sitting next to me, naked. Sitting on our towels.”

I didn’t answer. I was too afraid to drink more, and too afraid to swallow. Or breathe.

Then Loughlin put his hand on my leg, and my body went rigid.

His aftershave was subtle, and something spicy and sweet. I turned to look, and our eyes locked again.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked me.

I stared back. “You’ve had too much to drink,” was my only response.

He laughed. Slapped my thigh and stood up, then went to pour another drink. “Want one?”

I shook my head, then said, “no, I’m good, thanks.”

He paced to the window, but didn’t look out, then turned and walked back to where he’d originally sat, but didn’t sit there either. He turned and faced me, but said nothing.

I did like how he looked. I had been curious about it for a while. And he was being very honest. Too honest.

“I’ve never tried anything with a guy,” I said.

He nodded. Then returned to sit next to me, but faced forward.

“Me either.”

I turned to him, feeling my eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

He turned to me, his eyes were clear, and I knew he was telling me the truth. “I would tell you. I’ve been thinking about it. About you. That day in the sauna, and seeing your ass when you fucked Rina. But no, I haven’t done it. But I want to try.”

I waited, but it appeared he was back to staring, which was making me feel uncomfortable.

“Do you?” He asked me, searching my face for the truth.

I shrugged, but clutched my drink like it could save me.

“I think you do. But if you don’t, I’ll leave now.”

The dog barked somewhere again, and I stared at the remnants of the ice in my drink. I swirled it around, then drank the rest of it.

After what felt like too long, I finally looked up and spoke to the ceiling.

“Yes. But I’m too afraid.”

I felt his hand back on my leg. A gentle squeeze.

The problem was that I was in a bit of pain. My cock was so hard it hurt. When Loughlin’s hand moved up my leg, and into the inner thigh area and lingered there, I thought I would finally jump up and flee. But then his finger gently caressed my bulge.

I turned to him. Our faces were inches apart.

“Does Sabine know you’re here and…” I began.

He shook his head, then said, “No. I mean, she’ll see my car, and she knows we’re friends. But no, she doesn’t believe you and I would actually…”

I studied his face again. It wasn’t the first time I realized he was a very good looking guy. Small button nose, blonde hair a little styled, but it was probably accidental. He was masculine, and muscular but not like someone who lives at the gym.

When his fingers began stroking the heavy weight in my jeans, I reached over and put my glass down, and sat back.

He leaned back next to me, his fingers back on my bulge. “We could try some light stuff. I wanted to ask you first. And I figured, if I was gonna try it with someone, then it might as well be you. If you were up for it, that is.”

I turned to him. “I guess…” my words sounded wavy, like I’d forgotten how to formulate sentences. “...I am curious. But…”

He leaned in then, and our lips were inches apart.

Then Loughlin’s lips touched mine, and I stopped thinking.

My body turned to him, touching his chest, and his shoulders. The moment my fingers moved along his shoulders and his arms, I realized they’d been longing for that. Loughlin’s hands moved up and down my chest, and back to stroking my bulge. One of his hands reached behind my neck and held me as we began to kiss.

I felt the scratch of his stubble and the surprising, heavy heat of his body pressing into mine. For a second I pulled back just enough to look at him. The reality of his skin was so much more overwhelming than the distant image I’d lived with for months. My hands hovered over his shoulders, unsure if I should push him away or pull him closer. Until he reached out and traced the line of my jaw with a thumb that was slightly rough from work, and that small, quiet touch was what finally broke the last of my resolve. We didn’t just fall into it; we fumbled, our teeth clashing once as our breathing got louder and the room felt like it was shrinking down to just the space between us on the couch.

He pushed me back, and swung his leg over, and crouched on my lap, bringing his chest and his hips into mine, with his knees on either side of me.

I had to touch it. I was too curious now. I reached down and grabbed it and traced the outline of his cock. It was big; it was very hard, and it pushed into my hand the moment I touched it.

That’s when I let go, feeling the surge through my body. The excitement of something I’d thought about was suddenly sitting on my lap.

Loughlin’s fingers fumbled with my buttons on my shirt, his hands diving in and reaching to touch my chest and explore me. He wore a polo top, so I gripped the bottom and lifted it. He pulled away and lifted his arms, and together we pulled it off.

He’d lost some weight, but still looked the same. The little curls of hair on his chest felt coarse through my fingers. The last button came off my shirt, and I felt it open, and Loughlin’s hands explored me more openly.

He moved back, watching me, a slight grin on his face and a fire in his eyes I’d never seen before. Loughlin reached down and offered me a hand. I took it, and he lifted me off my feet. He pushed my shirt off, studied my chest briefly, then his eyes were locked on my lips, and we kissed, our chests together. Our cocks rubbing through the fabric.

My hands moved down, and I felt my way along his waistline for the buttons, and found them. My fingers popped it, then pulled the zipper down. I felt his hands move down to mine, working my button and my zipper.

I dug into his waistband and slid my hand inside. My fingers wrapped around his cock and he inhaled sharply, hips pushing into my palm like he’d been waiting for it. I stroked him once, slow, just to feel it, and he shuddered.

It was big. He knew it. I knew it. The tip was already sticky, proof he’d been as wound up as I was.

When my hand gripped his cock, he moaned into my mouth. His hands pulled my jeans and my briefs down, and then both of his hands were on my cock.

I gasped, and his tongue licked the inside of my mouth. Our hands slowly jerked each other. As strange as it felt to have his coarse, hairy chest rubbing against my smooth chest, I was thrilled by it.

My heartbeat thrummed in my ears, I could feel it pounding in my chest as we kissed, pushing our bodies together while we jerked each other off.

Loughlin disappeared, and dropped to his knees, lining himself with my cock. He studied my cock, playing with it, stroking it, his eyes ablaze.

He looked up. “Can I?”

I swallowed, and nodded.

He opened his mouth, I felt his breath on the tip and I could see precum leak out. He licked it, and I threw my head back, clenching my fists. His mouth wrapped around me and I sucked in breath so hard my chest hurt. I grabbed his ears without thinking, not to guide him, just to ground myself. He looked up while he sucked, and that nearly finished me right there.

“God!” I said, not realizing I’d spoken the words until they came out.

His mouth was hot, it was firm, and his tongue eager. When he took all of the shaft into his mouth and sucked it, I reached behind his head and pushed him in. “Oh, God! Don’t stop!” I whispered.

Loughlin moaned as he sucked me.

“Stop!” I said, pushing back, realizing how close I was already.

He jumped up, put an arm around me while he jerked off.

His breathing was labored, and he looked down. His arm pulled me in and we turned to kiss, facing each other and jerking off.

“Oh, fuck!” I mouthed into his mouth.

“Mmmhmmm!” He mumbled.

I felt it in my balls first, then suddenly through my shaft. It exploded before I could react. I barely had time to warn him before it hit, hot and violent. Loughlin let loose with me, hand tightening on me as our bodies jerked together like we’d been wired to the same current.

We watched as it exploded across my coffee table, all across the carpet. Some of it hit the blinds. I watched as some of it struck, then dripped down.

As I emptied my balls, my tongue slipping out of his mouth to watch our jizz explode everywhere, his hand reached down and gripped my ass.

It felt like it went on forever. I felt him relax next to me, and heard him exhale.

I moved my head back, and even rested it against his.

For a second, neither of us said anything. My heart was still racing, while my breathing took a while to slow down. Eyes closed, heads together, we both regained our composure.

Loughlin chuckled next to me.

“Oh, shit! The mess!”

I nodded and laughed. “Yeah, that’s gonna be fun to clean up.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, turning to me.

I shook my head, then said, “no, you don’t have to.”

I began to walk off, but before I got too far, his hand grabbed my arm. I turned to him, confused.

“Wait… before you do. There’s something I have to see, if it’s okay. Just once.”

I studied his face, and thought, but couldn’t think of what it might be.

“What?”

He smiled. “I have to see your butt.”

I laughed, then shook my head.

Fuck it. Why not? I mean, we’d literally just jerked off together.

I turned and let him see my ass. “Damn! That’s even better up close! You have a great ass!”

I turned to him, already beginning to pull my briefs up and my jeans. “Then show me yours,” I said, zipping up and buttoning my jeans up.

He smiled, then turned and lowered his jeans to his knees. He faced away from me, then shook his butt.

I laughed. “Yours too.”

He got dressed, then went to get our glasses. I watched him make himself another drink.

I stood, looking between the mess we’d made and him.

Loughlin poured us both a drink, then set mine on the table, and took a sip of his.

“Let’s clean up,” he said.

I stared. “Well, now we’ve experimented, I figured…” I looked out beyond the window.

He got it. “I could go. Or… maybe after we clean up, you might be horny again? If not, I’ll definitely go. I promise.”

I went off to get cleaning supplies, and smiled. Already, my cock twitched at the thought of playing with his ass.

Thank you for reaching over 10 restacks. The sequel is now here.

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The sun had just dropped about an hour earlier. The only light left was one quarter of the moon to guide me along the path. It was still warm, but that would inevitably change, though not enough to require a jacket. Still, I kept my hands in my pockets so they had something to do and I walked.

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I was close to it again, but as usual I detoured, heading past the tennis courts and onto the narrow path as it turned to gravel and edged into the woods. Crickets provided the soundtrack, that “ree ree ree,” sound all around me. Something scuttled a few feet away, rustling dry leaves. Probably terrified to see a human walk through the bushes in the early evening.

I’d only ever seen the occasional dog-walker here at night, though even then they’d usually disappear when the sun set. I stopped. It was so quiet, peaceful and almost surreal. When I turned and looked back along the path at the silhouette of the building, I sucked in breath and closed my eyes.

“Just fucking do it!” I told myself. Though I didn’t move.

A man walked out, glanced in my direction, then quickly to the right, before heading across the park. I watched him, trying to make out any detail. Early twenties, about my age, medium height, fairly slim, wearing shorts and a tee.

He walked across the park, edged the path on the furthest side and then stopped, turned to the building and just stood there.

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My heart raced. I knew what he was doing. But he’d come out of there, clearly more courageous than I was. He wouldn’t be able to see me, hidden amongst the trees.

I knew what went on in that building. It had happened to me once before. Months had passed and I struggled to find the courage to go in there willingly. Not that others would know whether it was intentional or not. But I would know.

He watched quietly, and if I hadn’t known what he was doing, it would’ve felt like pure serial-killer energy.

A figure emerged from the side of the lake and beelined directly to the building. He walked quickly, with purpose, shoulders hunched down, occasionally casting a furtive glance in every direction. Though he didn’t slow.

A minute later, he reached it and walked straight inside. The entrance was dimly lit, but just enough that I saw his face and his body. Wearing jeans, probably early forties and either muscular or stocky, hard to tell from my vantage point.

As soon as he walked inside, the figure across the park walked over slowly. It took him about a minute to reach the building. As he entered, I glimpsed his face briefly.

Handsome.

My legs moved before I’d commanded them to, though I knew exactly what would happen. I’d walk past it like I always did, watching the occasional guy leave with that satisfied look. For months this had gone on, and I’d get home, imagine what had happened and jerk off about it.

The gravel path turned to concrete again, and I neared the small door. The door itself was an iron gate. It stood open, almost welcoming me.

I shocked myself, adrenaline flooding me as I suddenly turned into the door and entered the toilet block.

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My horny foxes. Back in Sept ‘25, I wrote Climax - The Gardener. I thought about doing a follow-up for quite a while, and as things happen, the story dropped into my overenthusiastic head this morning. I hope you like it. Fox

Part 1 is here, though this can be read as a standalone.

Lina finished, and I inspected the garden. She was thorough and orderly, never taking longer than necessary and always quiet. Each week either of us would pay her, and she’d nod politely, confirm her next appearance, and leave.

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Georgia came outside, inspected the garden, and linked her arm in mine. “She’s very good, but she’s not Jordan. I really don’t know why you hated him so much. I miss the way he trimmed the roses, and his attention to detail.”

I patted her hand as we walked along the path, admiring the roses and the birds chirping as they drank from the fountain. I didn’t say anything. I’d said all there was to say.

Jordan was no good for us.

That following week, Lina called in sick. Apparently, it was something concerning, enough that she asked us to forgive her absence for a couple of weeks.

My wife handled the house maintenance, and I never got involved. Except when it came to the gardener.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll make sure it isn’t Jordan, though I will never understand what he ever did to you. He was so wonderful, and so…”

“…Georgia. I would prefer it if we didn’t have this conversation every time. I rarely intervene, but I do have my reasons. Please respect them.”

She nodded, but the way her chin lifted toward the overcast sky and her eyes shifted left, then right, told me she wanted to question it again.

Two weeks later, I was on a very rare visit to another town for work. I don’t need to work that often, and I certainly have no intention of making it a habit to travel. But on this occasion, I had agreed to go.

I left that morning, prepared for a long drive, but an hour in, they canceled. A part of me was relieved, and another part annoyed. I could have done without the early start.

I stopped at the local café, got myself a latte, and drove slowly along the edge of town. I returned home in a better mood.

There are two main entrances to our home, one facing a quiet cul-de-sac and another from the main road, accessed via a small but private laneway.

Georgia looked shocked when I entered.

“Robert! What are you doing home?”

I looked around, a little suspicious because of her behavior.

“They canceled right as I joined the main highway. I’ll take the day off.”

“Are you going to work from home this morning? Maybe go up to the deck outside our room, facing the park. It’s lovely over there today.”

Something about Georgia’s behavior was off, though I couldn’t immediately put a finger on it. I thought about calling her out, then chose not to. As usual, I did the opposite of what she suggested.

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It felt like I was standing in hell, which sounds dramatic but honestly it wasn’t far off. The air was so thick it pressed against me, like it was trying to suffocate me. I leaned back against this filthy shelving unit stacked with car parts, rusted bolts and bits of plastic I couldn’t name, not even caring what it was doing to my white shirt because at that point I’d given up on dignity for the day.

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All I wanted was to be home. I kept thinking about the Sancerre waiting in my fridge, how cold it would be, how that first sip always feels like a reward for my overworked nervous system. I imagined the aircon humming away like a loyal servant, the smooth jazz I put on when I want to pretend I’m a calm, well-adjusted adult, the type who doesn’t end up trapped in a garage on a Friday evening.

Instead, I was here.

Watching Ben.

The slowest mechanic I’d ever met in my life, which felt cruel to think but also… accurate.

He was still under the Carrera, his legs sticking out from beneath the silver chassis, and I tried not to stare but failed. His legs were bare, thick, dusted with dark hair that had collected grease and grit from the shop floor, like he was part of the garage. Those navy work shorts were hanging on for dear life, frayed at the edges, stretched across thighs that honestly looked like they could snap someone in half if you asked him one more time how much longer he was going to be.

I forced myself to look away, over to the street where everyone else was escaping their offices, already mentally halfway into their weekend. Friday traffic, that specific end-of-week madness where everyone drives like they’re escaping hell.

My attention returned to Ben again as metal hit metal and echoed in that large space. I assumed his colleagues had worked faster and fled on time.

I’ve been married to Sarah for twelve years and did not stare at men’s legs. I play squash on Tuesdays.

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I don’t check out mechanics named Ben.

Each time I looked away, the distraction wouldn’t last. Within seconds my eyes were right back where they’d started.

With Ben under my car, I was trapped. Literally trapped, unable to go home unless I got an Uber.

“Almost there, Roger. Don’t blow a gasket,” his voice floated out from under the car, thick with a southern drawl that made it sound like he had all the time in the world.

“It’s after six, Ben,” I said, trying to sound important, like I had somewhere better to be, like I wasn’t secretly melting into a puddle. My voice betrayed me though, as I unbuttoned my shirt halfway down my chest because I couldn’t breathe properly anymore. The fabric stuck to my ribs, damp and uncomfortable. “I just want to get out of this heat.”

The only response was the steady clank of a wrench.

Then the creeper rolled out.

He lay there on the creeper, looking up at me. Not a quick glance, but a steady, heavy appraisal that started at my polished shoes and ended on my damp, exposed throat. I felt like a specimen under a microscope.

“You’re wilting, sir,” Ben murmured.

When he sat up, he grabbed a plastic bottle of water from the floor, cracked the cap, and poured half of it over his head. I stood there, paralyzed, watching it sluice down his face, drip from his chin, run in rivulets through the grease on his chest. It carved clean paths through the grime, revealing pale, rugged skin beneath.

I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. It was like watching an ad for Coca-Cola.

One drop traveled over the deep groove of his abdominal muscles before disappearing into the waistband of those frayed shorts. I followed it the whole way down. My pulse thudded in my ears, a dull rhythm that drowned out the traffic behind me.

I hated that I was looking and that I knew exactly how those shorts stretched over his lap.

“I’m fine,” I managed, my voice a notch lower than usual. I shifted my weight, pretending to look at my watch, but my eyes slid right back to the way his biceps bunched as he capped the bottle.

Ben stood then. He was taller than he looked on the ground, moving with a fluid, animal grace. He walked over to the workbench, stopping inches from where I leaned, loudly throwing things around. The heat coming off him was intense, a living radiator. He picked up a heavy metal part and the veins in his forearms bulged thick beneath his skin.

He didn’t speak for a long minute. He just worked, cleaning the part with a rag, his hands steady and powerful. I watched his shoulders roll, the pull of his deltoids, the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin with every scrub. It was hypnotic.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:12 p.m. I should have been furious. I should have been calling a cab and giving up, but I needed my car. So I stayed, breathing in that metallic, salt, and oil and something heavy and masculine that coated the back of my throat.

Ben turned slightly. He caught me staring and didn’t look away. He kept scrubbing, slow and deliberate, watching me, a cheeky grin creeping across his face like he knew things.

Our eyes locked for a few seconds. His eyes stayed on mine, blue and unblinking, like he already had me figured out.

“What’s that look for?” he asked. His voice was low, not the edge of a subordinate, but the tone of a man who knew exactly what I was looking at.

I cleared my throat. “Just wondering if you’re ever going to finish,” I said, looking back across the street, wondering why I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

I realized something peculiar. I didn’t want him to finish. I wanted to stay in this sweltering box and watch the sweat trail down his spine until the sun went down.

When he turned to the car and bent over, the sweat patch that ran down and pooled at the center of his ass was impossible not to notice. I barely registered the mess on the back of his shirt coupled with sweat.

As if he knew, he turned again, winked, then lay back on the creeper and disappeared under the car, his bulge sticking out under the license plate. And I was back to staring at his bulge, where I could see where he’d scratched at it with greasy hands.

“Whatcha got planned tonight, Roge?”

I felt my fists clench.

“It’s Roger,” I said, my voice tight and unrelenting.

“Okay, Roge. So, what you got goin’ on tonight? Sit around with a bunch of uptight bankers and jack off to your portfolios?”

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I pushed off the shelving unit and stepped outside, which was no cooler. I clenched and unclenched my fists, forced my teeth to stop grinding and breathed.

As I counted back from ten, I heard him call out.

I walked back to the other side of the car, where I stared at the space between his legs.

“Pardon me?”

“I said, your car will be ready in a few minutes. I’m finished. Could have been ready twenty minutes ago but you seemed to be enjoying watching my legs a lot.”

“I beg your pardon! I was not! I was merely…” And that’s when I saw the cameras and the monitors. It wasn’t sneaky, but designed to sit at floor level, so mechanics under the cars could watch the workshop while they worked.

I glared at the camera and quickly looked away.

“Aw. Come on Roge, was kind of enjoying giving you a show. Was almost gonna put my hands in my shorts and adjust.”

Which he did anyway. His hand slid down his stomach and to the tip of his shorts, then under. When his hand grabbed the bulge, it was bigger.

I looked away, then at the camera, then back across the road.

When I looked back, his hand was still there, slowly moving, teasing me.

“If I can just get my car, I’d like to leave now,” I said, a catch in my voice I disguised by quickly coughing.

“Sure thing,” Ben said. His hand disappeared and seconds later, he rolled out, but lay there, hands holding the spanner as he began to tap it into his palm.

“But, as you’re driving off, I’ll be in the office there. Got to do something before I get home to the girlfriend. You know, in case you wanna watch or something,” he said in that heavy southern accent, probably Louisiana.

I swallowed, but the dry heat had made that as difficult as looking away from Ben.

“What do you mean?”

He got up, walked to the wall of tools and put the spanner away, then bent over, giving me a clear view once more of his ass. When he stood, he had a rag in his hand, and some kind of cleaning fluid. He carefully rubbed it over his hands while he stared.

Then his eyes dropped to my crotch, and when his eyes returned to mine, he grinned.

“I think you know what I mean. You don’t spend twenty minutes watching someone’s legs like that unless you don’t know what they mean.”

He turned, grabbed my keys and walked toward me, then threw them.

I hated the way I scrambled to catch the keys. I’d never been good at catching things.

He walked to the office, taking his shirt off as he walked. He used the shirt to wipe his head, face, and body, before throwing it to the counter.

“I’ll be in here, just in case I’m right, and you’re curious. If not, have a great weekend. See you the next time you spend too much time throttling your accelerator while in neutral.”

I stared after him, aware he was probably watching me from yet another monitor.

What an asshole! I wanted to retort and yell something back, but I had nothing to say. I walked to the driver’s side and opened the door.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said, realizing someone had vacuumed my car. There was a clean smell that hadn’t been there that morning.

“Okay,” he sounded breathless, like he was working on something. “I’ll be in here for just a few more minutes in case you change your mind.”

I wanted to yell. Doing that?

My mind got into the car, but my legs walked around the front, along the back wall. I felt something rush up from deep inside, whether it was anger, frustration or simply a need to give him a piece of my mind, I had no idea.

I stood in the office doorway and opened my mouth.

He sat in an oversized leather chair, legs spread with his shorts bunched around his ankles. The shirt was gone and he watched me with a grin as he jerked off.

“The only question I have is, ass or cock?”

I stared.

He scanned me, head to toe, back to my eyes, my crotch and then my eyes again.

“Well? Ass or cock?”

I cleared my throat. “Excuse me? Sorry, what did you say?”

He stood slowly, analyzing me. He pulled his feet out of his shorts one by one. He cast his eyes to the monitors, then back at me. He moved his hands, and I stared at his erect cock, uncut, large and dirty.

Then he turned, all the way around and bent over.

His ass was hairy, very muscular and rounded. He spread his legs, bent over even further and I could tell he resumed jerking off.

“I said, you want my ass or my cock? If I were a betting man, which funny enough I can be, I’d say you’d wanna rail my ass.”

I tried to swallow, but it was stuck. I choked on whatever words had begun to formulate in my throat.

This is insane. I needed to leave immediately. Call the cops or something. What the fuck was I doing standing there?

He turned, but only halfway, showing me both sides.

“If I was to bend over this chair, close my eyes and think about the state of our country, I’d bet money you’d slip it in my ass. Saw the way you watched it on the monitors. Saw the way you licked your lips.”

I hadn’t licked my lips, not that I recalled, but I did then.

He smiled. A smile I bet had got him many women. And men. He turned, still grinning and bent over.

“Lube’s on that table, right next to you. Let’s see if we can’t kick this weekend off with a bang for both of us,” he said, voice very low, with a roughness to it.

I adjusted the cuffs on my shirt sleeve, looking around me, wondering why I hadn’t already left.

I already knew my cock had not just stirred, but begun screaming to be released from my far too tight briefs.

His ass was the fittest I’d ever seen, not that I’d seen that many. I’d never touched a man. Fantasized it a bunch, but never done it.

Was I really going to put my cock in his ass? I cleared my throat, looked around me again.

I picked up the lube. Apparently I was.

My cock begged, no screamed, to be let out. I looked behind me, but realized Ben was looking at the monitors, keeping an eye out.

My heart pounded as I stepped closer, unbuttoning my overpriced pants and struggling with the zipper. The weight of my keys, wallet pulled them down for me, so I reached down and pulled my cock out. I could feel the part of me that still made good choices giving up.

Ben turned then, as if what he’d seen on the monitor needed closer inspection.

“Damn! You sure are full of surprises!” he said, staring at my cock.

My hands shook, but I managed to pop the lube open and get some on my cock.

His ass hairs were wet and coiled around his ass, but I inched closer and felt the precum drip from the head and along the shaft.

I put the lube on the table behind me and stepped closer, my cock inches away from his ass. The debate about whether I could do this was still raging in my mind as my cock inched forward and touched his asshole.

After that, it was no longer a question.

I angled myself, watching the muscles in his back and how firm his ass cheeks were.

“Go easy, been a while, hoss,” he said.

His ass was surprisingly clean, that pink center waited for me. My cock had plenty of lube, and there was still some on my hands, so my fingers went to his hole and massaged the excess in before my cock did.

His hand came around, grabbed mine and gently helped massage his ass.

“That’s it, warm me up. Really has been a while, not often good-looking executive types come in here like you, staring at my cock and my ass, making me wonder which one you wanted.”

I put my cock back against his hole and applied pressure. It was tight. I felt him tense, then breathe in, then exhale. He nodded, as if to signal he was ready, so I pushed it in.

“Jesus!” he yelled, as the tip went in a little further and too quickly.

“Sorry,” I said, wondering if I should pull out, but his hand shot back and grabbed me, holding me in place.

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“Slow and steady, okay?”

I nodded, and waited a few seconds, then slowly inched it in a bit more.

The lube was doing its job, my cock slid in easier the more of it went in. The inside of his hole was hot! I could feel him clenching, like he was adjusting.

He’d said it had been a while, and I believed him.

With my hands resting on his ass, I pushed my cock the remainder of the way in. He didn’t complain, just breathed in and out. With my hips pressing against his hot skin, and my cock throbbing deep inside his ass, my hands caressed his ass.

He shifted a little, bent over the chair, and I could tell he was jerking off.

“That’s it, hoss. We’re good, fuck me.”

I did.

I pulled out, then pushed it in and felt it hit that deep center, hearing him moan and gasp as I thrust, building a little momentum.

“You like that?” he asked me.

“U-huh,” I said, the feeling of it beginning to emanate through my entire body. The sweat was steadily pouring down my back, along my temples and some of it pooled under my balls. When I fucked him, and my balls slapped his balls, the extra sweat made that smack echo in that office.

“Yeah! You got it perfect, keep going!” he muttered.

My hips were on autopilot, fucking him with a rhythm that felt instinctive.

We fucked like that for what felt like an eternity. Long enough that my shirt was drenched with sweat and rivers of sweat ran down my whole body. My cock was slippery, more from the sweat than the lube.

I fucked him harder as that familiar feeling overwhelmed me.

“Oh yeah! Do it! Cum! I’m cumming!”

He said, too loudly, but there was still no one on the monitors in the workshop.

“Argh!” I grunted as I felt my load suddenly shoot through my balls and then through my shaft. As it filled him, he grunted and began to shoot too, all over the black leather.

“Fuck!” he yelled, my thrusts building as I fucked all of my load into him.

“Yeah! Yeah!” he yelled, as though he was watching sports.

The rest of my jizz filled him, and I slowed down. I leaned forward, and tried to regain my breath.

“Jesus! You know how to fuck!” he said.

I pulled my cock out, and he pointed to some rags on the counter, which looked clean. I grabbed one and quickly wiped my cock, then passed it to him, which he accepted.

“Um… thanks,” I said, really needing to get out of there.

“Thanks hoss. Any Friday you feel like stoppin’ by to choose cock or ass, I’ll be waitin’.”

I raced to my car, got in and joined the traffic on the main road.

In my mind, I began to berate myself. Why had I done that?

Cheeky asshole! Asking me whether it would be cock or ass!

I already knew the answer to that.

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I studied him. One of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. Deep, blue eyes, a small button nose and a face destined for magazine covers.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sean, now let’s get you warm,” I went to move him from the hallway, but his pants were sodden and his shoes were covered in beach sand, equally as drenched.

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My horny foxes. This story blindsided me today on a walk and my plans changed. I sat and wrote this for you. It’s long, so I’ve split it in two. Very, very slow burn. I hope you like it. Hapy New Year! Fox x

The rain beat down hard, driving the point home that I was alone. Gray skies, the occasional thunder and a whistling wind echoed how I felt.

Every channel I flicked to reminded me that billions were out celebrating. The first stories were coming through, from fireworks in New Zealand to those in Australia and Asia.

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Gina padded over, a look on her face reminding me that I was lazy. She looked over her shoulder at the streaked windows, then back at me, as if resigning our fate. I patted the seat next to me, but even she rejected me. She sniffed, turned and went back to the corner, where she’d spent a large portion of the day judging me.

I got up. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I took a glass from the liquor cabinet, went to the kitchen for a couple of ice cubes, then came back and poured myself a scotch. I paused after a couple of shots, started to put the cap back on, then changed my mind and nearly filled the glass.

My first drink in weeks. Maybe even months.

Gina watched me, sniffed again and turned away, as if she was considering running away from home.

I sat, then the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it, but watching the same programs was depressing.

“Hey,” I said, “happy New Year.”

“Hello handsome. Please don’t tell me you’re sitting there alone. Oh, and happy New Year to you too.”

“I’m not alone, Sian. I’m with Gina, even if she thinks I’m awful company.”

“You are awful company. You’ve rejected every invitation to do something so you can sit there and doomscroll.”

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I took a large swallow of my scotch, put the phone on speakerphone and leaned my head back on the expensive leather. It still had that new smell.

“What are you drinking?”

“Scotch. What are you drinking?”

“Nothing. I’ve got yoga at seven.”

“Fuck that.”

“I like yoga,” she said with a tone.

“I’m very happy for you. Why aren’t you out? Are you preparing for your yoga? Freshening your yoga mat up with scented oils?”

She laughed. “Bitch doesn’t look good on you, handsome. No, I’ve had weeks of Christmas parties, mostly clients. So I’ve been looking forward to a night to myself. Just me, my cat and some good music.”

I smiled, took another sip of the fast-acting numbing agent. “How is Mr. O’Malley?”

I could almost hear the cat purring. “He’s good. He says hello, he’s got his paws on my legs. Doesn’t like it when I’m on the phone.”

I looked over at Gina. “I have the same problem. She’s planning something, I can tell. She might be gone by morning, maybe worked out how to open doors and escape.”

She laughed. “You’re so dramatic! She loves you! As much as I love you! Now go out! Go to your local!”

“Sian, have you seen the weather? Not sure how things are going there in Devon, but here in Margate, it’s fucking stormy. Severe weather warnings and the advice is to stay home. So, I’m being a good boy and I’m staying home.”

A heavy sigh. “Fine, whatever, then at least take the dog for a little walk! Poor Gina! Just down the street and back.”

“I’m assuming you called to lecture me about something?”

I could feel her shaking her head. “Nope. But remember, this next year you’re going to be the phoenix. Rising from the ashes. Everything that happened is over. Gone. From this moment forward, it will get better. I promise. All of it.”

I nodded but didn’t say anything, then shrugged. “I might. But she’s even pickier than I am.”

A while later, when I was finally able to get rid of Sian, I put the empty but heavy glass down on the coffee table. It made a thud that made Gina look up at me.

“Alright you judgmental bitch. Wanna go walkies?”

She jumped up, raced over, her Golden Retriever face alight, and her tail fanning the room.

“Oh! Not so picky now, huh? You do realize it’s fucking freezing out there, right? Wet, cold, slippery?”

She raced over to the door and jumped up to paw at her lead.

I put my boots on, grabbed the same coat I’d been wearing for too long, my hat and keys, and opened the door.

The wind blew the heavy door in, nearly out of my hands.

“Fuck me! Are you sure you’re up for this disaster?”

Gina rushed out, running circles on the porch, oblivious to my concerns. I grabbed the lead, closed the door and crouched down. She rushed over, watched me, licked my face, then sat. I patted her and stroked behind her ears.

She gave me her love eyes.

We walked the drive to the main gates, waited for the security cameras to recognize us, then watched the painfully slow gates swing open.

Beyond the gates, wind slapped rain at us and within seconds, Gina’s coat was thick with water. At least my coat was dry on the inside, and the cap was waterproof, but still, my face and my hands felt the cold and the slap of the rain.

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We walked along the path to the main coastal path and turned left. Gina led us on the usual walk, sensing that this would be a short one. She tried sniffing the railing that separated the path from the coast, but soon realized it was pointless. It no doubt smelled of more rain.

We walked two minutes, then turned left, away from the coast and back to the house. Sensing the limited time, Gina began her ritual. She slowed, walked in circles, sniffed this, sniffed that, then another circle, then a reverse semi-circle, and finally squatted.

I fished in my pockets for the poop bags and looked the other way. We had an agreement, she didn’t sniff at the door when I was in the bathroom, and I didn’t watch her when she went.

“You’re quite lucky, it’s legal for you to shit where you want.”

Gina didn’t reply, but I looked along the coast and barely saw beyond a few feet. It was so dark and gray.

I felt a tug on the lead, so I turned and knelt to scoop up her mess. Gina looked away as usual, as if to remind me that I was her slave. Her poop slave that always cleaned up after her.

The entire area appeared deserted, and with the wind and rain, and rumbling clouds, we didn’t hear it at first.

Gina tugged on the lead and tried to pull us back to the railing. I pulled back, “come on, girl! It’s wet and cold. We’ve been out. Please can we go home now?”

But she wouldn’t budge. Her ears were up and she looked left, then right, then immediately ahead. I waited.

She turned to me, her tail out straight, which is unusual, and turning her attention to a sound coming from the coast.

I heard it then. A muffled sound. Distant, and barely audible.

I loosened some of the lead and walked over to the railing, looking over at the shore and seeing nobody.

“What was that?” I asked her.

She sniffed, looked left, then spotted something and began pawing at the railing. She realized the path down to the beach was just a few feet away, so she shot that way, causing the lead to yank out of my hands. In seconds, she was gone.

“Gina!” I called out, but I wasn’t concerned. She was a good dog, a sensible dog. If Gina was rushing down the path, then there was a good reason for it.

I sighed. Whatever that sound was, it can’t be good, so I followed her.

The path down was slippery, but the high-end boots had great grip, and with the help of the railing, I slowly moved down toward the bottom, where I could see Gina sniffing at a bulk.

I immediately thought it was a dolphin. The shiny coat, the shape of it, and the way it lay there.

But as I neared the bulk, I realized it wasn’t a dolphin at all.

It was a man. He was barely moving. One hand reached out to the dog, she in turn began to tug at his sleeve.

Gina is a great dog, but she’s not generally a people person. It’s taken her years to warm to friends I’ve known my whole life. Watching her licking whoever this was, made me drop my guard a little. She was a much better judge of character than I had been.

Especially the past year.

I reached the man and assessed the situation. He was at the bottom of the slippery steps and appeared to have given up on rescue.

“Fuck! Are you okay? I’ll call an ambulance,” but I realized I’d left my phone at home.

“I’m okay,” he said, the vowels soft and rounded in a way I couldn’t quite place yet, “I slipped. Hurt my legs.”

“Can you walk?”

He winced, breath catching. “Maybe… with a bit o’ help, yeah.”

I came around and kneeled next to him. “I can call an ambulance from my house, because I didn’t bring my phone.”

He shook his head under the thick raincoat and soaked scarf, his face still hidden in shadow.

“No ambulance. I’ll be alright, like. Just… got myself in a state.”

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“I’m going to put my arm under you and help you up, then we can assess the damage and see if you can walk,” I said, sliding into position.

Gina decided she was on the rescue team too. She moved to his other side, watched me lift his left arm, and took his right sleeve gently in her teeth, giving it a determined little tug.

He managed a small, breathy laugh. “Your dog’s adorable, isn’t she?”

I smiled. “This is rare. She doesn’t normally like other people; keeps her distance,” I said, wondering why Gina was so interested in this man.

“On three, ready?”

He nodded.

“Three,” I said, and yanked him up.

He laughed, but coughed, though between the three of us, we managed to get the man to his feet.

Finally, standing, he shook his head, but I could see he struggled with his balance, so I held him tight and kept my arm under him and supporting his weight.

“My house is just up there,” I said, pointing with my other hand, though there was no need, Gina had already started up the stairs to lead the way.

The walk back was long, and exhausting. While he didn’t seem to have any serious damage, it was clear he’d done something to his ankle. The way he winced when I held him suggested a lot of bruising too.

“What were you thinking walking out on a night like this?” I asked him, a bit frustrated to be performing a rescue and delaying my quick return to my couch.

“I was upset, went for a walk. Been a tough year. Slipped on the stupid stairs,” he said.

I felt something in his voice, so I let it go. We’ve all made mistakes and I was already thinking about calling a cab and getting him to the local hospital when we got home.

We trudged slowly to the main gates. I pulled my hood back so the cameras could see my face, and then we heard a click, and the motors running as the gates opened.

“Oh shit! That’s pretty cool!” he said. I was trying to narrow his accent down as we walked.

Gina reached the door first, and I’m sure if I’d given her the keys, she would have attempted to open the door with her mouth.

Once inside, the relief from the wind, the rain and the cold was immediate. We both stood in the hall for a few seconds, taking a breath and recovering from the walk.

“Here,” I said, moving him to the wall so he could use it for balance.

He did as I instructed, and I was able to get my coat and hat off and kick my boots off and put my slippers back on. I then helped him remove his coat and hung it up on the coat rack.

In the light, without his coat, I got to see him for the first time.

We both took each other in, finally able to see each other’s faces.

His eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. “Oh my God!”

I turned away, quite used to this.

When I turned back, he still stared. “You’re…”

I nodded and waved it away. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Rhys,” he said.

Part two is here.

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