Page 98 of Muscle Cub

Austin winced, sucking air between his teeth. He arched an eyebrow at me. “You wanna tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Charles asked.

Austin jerked his head in the direction of the trail. “I think we better talk on the way.”

33

Austin was a better person than me. I might’ve applauded karma’s late arrival and left Charles to deal with his own choices, but Austin inspired me to rise to his level. To my credit, I devised the tarp-and-log dam that diverted the stream of runoff away from Charles’s site and a few others farther up the Soggy Bottom.

If Sawyer would dig out a series of trenches and install more permanent versions of these structures, they’d have a long-term solution.

“Sawyer’s gonna be pissed somebody else thought of this first,” Austin said. “But you definitely earned your dad title. And there’s still time for a nap.”

We walked back in the rain, holding hands. We were so soaked there was no reason to run at this point. We strolled down Trailer Park Avenue, basking in the rain like it was sunshine.

My red Nikes were trashed and muddy. I ordered Austin to leave them outside on the steps.

The air conditioning in the trailer felt like a meat locker. By the time we grabbed clean towels from the linen closet, our teeth were chattering.

We dried off quickly and fled to the bed, pulling the covers over our heads to trap our warmth.

“Reminds me of our first night in the tent.”

“Mm. Sweet.” Austin turned so I could spoon him.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, my belly perfectly fitting the curve of his back, my thighs cradling his ass. My cock swelled, and I humped against him.

I brushed my mustache against his neck, and he turned his head so I could nuzzle his ear.

“Mm. You smell like petrichor.”

“Petrichor?” he asked. “What the hell’s that?”

“The delicious earthy scent that accompanies a rainstorm after a long period of dry weather. It’s one of my favorite words.”

“I think you made that one up.”

“I did not! Google it!”

“Shh. We’re napping.” He nestled his cheek into the pillow and breathed slow and deep like he really intended to sleep. But he wriggled and arched back against me until my cock was trapped in the crease of his ass.

As much as I’d enjoyed the option, I hated to spend an erection this hard on another intercrural session. I was right there, and the temptation to angle and find his hole was too much.

I shifted my body lower and rutted up until the tip kissed his hole.

I was leaking like crazy, and when he bore down, the head slipped inside him.

I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also couldn’t risk stopping to get the lube out of the bedside table. I flexed my cock, purposefully pumping more precum into him, and pushed in an inch deeper.

He groaned, reached back, and lifted his butt cheek, spreading himself open for me.

I pinched saliva from my tongue and slicked the exposed part of my shaft, working as much moisture as I could along the seal between us. He relaxed the ring of muscle, and I pressed a fraction of an inch farther into him.

I slowly rocked back and forth, entering him by increments, grabbing his hips and pulling him onto my lap until I was fully encased in his crushing warmth.

Holy fuck. It felt like…

What was the word for this?