Cole could barely speak. “I’m really not sure.” They sat in silence for a moment before Cole nodded, barely a movement at all, but it was permission.
Ethan ran his thumb up Cole’s thigh, feeling the muscle jump under his hand. He was shaking—maybe from cold, maybe from the adrenaline—but he pressed on, letting his hand drift higher, to the crease where thigh met hip. He could feel the heat, the unmistakable outline of Cole’s cock straining beneath the fabric. He wanted to touch it so badly his own dick ached, leaking pre-come into his briefs.
He looked up and found Cole staring at his mouth, eyes dark with desire, a hunger simmering just beneath the surface that made it clear Cole wanted to use his mouth. The intensity of that gaze sent a shiver down Ethan’s spine, igniting a fire of anticipation that pooled low in his stomach.
Ethan froze, unsure how to begin. He let his hand slide all the way up, fingers tracing along the seam of Cole’s jeans, pausing at the bulge.
Cole shuddered, the breath leaving him in a low moan.
Ethan craved to take Cole into his mouth, to wrap his lips around the thick shaft of his cock. The thought of pleasuring Cole, of bringing him the release he so desperately needed and deserved, ignited a fire in Ethan’s core. He could barely think. He just wanted more.
He pressed his hand harder into Cole’s thigh, feeling the cock beneath, desperate and needing release. Cole shifted, opening his legs wider, giving Ethan more space to come between them.
Ethan’s fingers moved up, finding the waistband of Cole’s jeans, his hands trembling. He looked at Cole for a sign to stop, but Cole’s eyes were closed, lost in sensation. His mouth hung open, and his breathing was ragged, every exhale a promise of what might come next.
The fire was all but dead, the two of them breathing each other’s air, bodies pressed tight together. All the shame, the fear, was drowned out by need.
Ethan let his hand cup the hard shape of Cole’s cock, squeezing just enough to make Cole jerk in his seat. Cole’s eyes snapped open, wild, pleading.
Ethan moved his hand in slow, testing strokes, up and down the length through denim, each pass making Cole’s hips buck. Ethan could feel his own cock leaking, wetting the front of his pants.
Cole’s hands gripped the log, white-knuckled, as if holding on was the only thing keeping him from shattering. His whole body was rigid, vibrating with want.
Ethan’s courage grew with every heartbeat. He leaned in and started to unzip Cole’s jeans. Ethan grinned, letting the confidence wash through him.
He could feel the end coming, a slow, inevitable climb to something he’d never known before. All the waiting, the wondering, the years of silence—it all led here, to this moment.
He wanted Cole, and Cole wanted him, and nothing else mattered.
They were both shaking, both right at the edge, and Ethan knew—without a doubt—that this was what he’d been missing his whole life.
Ethan unbuttoned Cole’s jeans. For a few perfect seconds, Cole looked at him with a hunger that could have burned the forest down. Then, with no warning, the expression broke. Desire crumpled into panic. Cole jerked back like he’d touched an electric wire.
His hands snapped to his thighs, pinning Ethan’s in place for a half-beat, then peeling them off gently but firmly. Cole’s chest heaved; he looked away, jaw clenching, face caught in a strange dance between shame and something like mourning.
“I can’t,” he rasped, voice shredded by regret. “I—shit—I need to get some sleep.”
He stood, too fast, nearly stumbling over the remains of the fire pit. Cole turned around, in the embers’ weak glow, Cole looked pale. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. After a moment he turned around and was gone, boots crunching through the needles, tent zipper screaming shut in the darkness.
Ethan sat there, stunned, the shock of rejection setting his ears ringing. The log under him felt like it would swallow him whole. His whole body still thrummed with want, every nerve ending alight. He tried to process the whiplash—one minute at the center of the universe, the next left orbiting nothing.
He stared at his hands, then at the fire, then at the empty spot where Cole had been. His cock ached, the front of his jeans wet with pre-cum.
He tried to stand, but his knees buckled. The night was cold again, the noise of the creek louder than before, like it was mocking him.
Had he gone too far? Misread every signal? Ruined the only thing that had made sense since he’d stepped off the plane in Montana?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough grit of stubble, the sweat and smoke clinging to his skin. In the dark, with nothing but the red blink of the coals and the echo of his own breathing, Ethan wanted to crawl out of himself.
But his body had other plans.
The need hadn’t faded; if anything, it had intensified, a primal urge coursing through Ethan’s veins. Alone by the fire, high and half-drunk, he felt the weight of his desire pressing against the front of his jeans, throbbing with an urgency that was impossible to ignore. He could almost taste Cole’s skin on his lips, the imagined warmth of their bodies entwined igniting a fire deep within him.
With a sigh of frustration, Ethan pushed himself up from the log, the cool night air biting at his skin as he decided that maybe a walk could clear his mind and help him shake off this relentless horniness that felt like it was consuming him whole.
He made his way toward the creek. Each step felt heavy, his heart racing in tandem with the pulse of need that thrummed through him. Moonlight illuminated the path ahead. Ethan’s thoughts spiraled back to Cole. He wondered if Cole would ever look at him again, if he’d ever get another chance, and most of all, he wondered what it would be like to not be afraid of what he wanted.
Chapter 12 - Cole
