Cabin Fever

by Roe Horvat

  “Go shower and clean up, boy.”

  His eyes flashed with heat, and he smirked, his playfulness rising. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Michael exited the bathroom, his big green eyes full of need. He was naked, his underwear and T-shirt in his hands, together with the lube bottle.

  “I’m ready for you, Daddy.”

  I stood up and took the lube from him, then grabbed him by his upper arm and pushed him face first against the wall. His bunched-up clothes fell to the floor.

  “You’re mine?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He was like a magnet, pulling me in.

  “Then I can do whatever I want with you.”

  “Yes.”

  He wanted me to spank him, I knew. He expected it hard and painful. I wouldn’t do it.

  Yes, I wished I could ease the constant tension he must feel. But… for fuck’s sake, he wanted me to beat him up for being afraid. I couldn’t do that.

  “Spread your ass and show me your hole,” I ordered.

  I let him stand there for a minute, shoulders and cheek pressed on the wall, his fingers digging into his ass muscles, his pink hole exposed. I undressed slowly and folded my clothes, watching him. He closed his eyes but didn’t move from the awkward position. He was hard, his cock sticking out toward the wall.

  I wanted to comfort him, take care of him. My arms itched with the need to hold him tight. I would’ve kissed his temples, massaged his shoulders, gathered his smaller body to mine and shielded him from whatever danger could arise. But this wasn’t that kind of deal, was it?

  I knelt behind him, placed the lube bottle by his feet, ready for later, and sucked his balls into my mouth. Michael yelped. Then I kissed his perineum, his closed pucker... I circled his opening with my tongue over and over, intentionally not breaching him. I made love to his hole until he was quivering and moaning.

  “Please, fuck me. Please,” he begged.

  “Quiet!” I growled against his opening.

  I lapped at his ass, teasing him with the tip of my tongue, but not giving him more.

  “Daddy. Please.”

  “Whose hole are you?”

  “Yours.”

  “Who decides when and how you get fucked?”

  A groan and then. “You, Daddy.”

  “Good boy. Now shut up.”

  I pushed my tongue into him, then a finger, listening to his sounds of relief. Once he began rocking his hips, getting close, I pulled my finger out. Kissing his crease and licking his pucker, I played with his hole and edged him until his sounds turned deep and animalistic. Then I quickly lubed my length and straightened behind him. I took him where he stood and impaled him on my cock in one long stroke. He shouted, “Yes,” so loud, the cabin walls seemed to shudder around us. I grabbed his neck with both hands while he braced his forearms on the rough wood, and I fucked him standing against the wall, tightening my hold on his throat as my thrusts became deeper and harsher. He came quietly this time and struggled to breathe, but his asshole was spasming around me again and again, letting me know he’d got what he needed—a long and thorough release with my cock deep inside him. I pulled out, and he was about to slide down the wall as if my hard dick in his hole had been the only thing holding him up.

  “Kneel!” I gripped his upper arm and turned him. He stumbled and sank to the floor, his arms limp by his sides. His heavy eyelids fluttered, and he opened his mouth wide, waiting. His chest rose and fell with rapid breathing, his cheeks were red with excitement, and sweat dampened the hair on his forehead. He looked up at me, utterly debauched, and his gaze seemed so meek… devoted.

  With that word on my mind, I came all over his face.

  “Eat.”

  His liquid eyes pinned on me, he wetted his lips and then gathered the cum from his cheeks and chin with his fingers. He licked them too, one by one.

  The harmony between us was a miracle. I’d called him greedy. But damn, I was the greedy one. I’d never get enough of him. The contradiction was doing my head in. I didn’t know who I wanted more: Michael on edge, cheeky and rude, or Michael on his knees in front of me, grateful and pliant.

  “Now go to your bed, boy. I’ll go with you and wait until you fall asleep.”

  “Thank you so much, Daddy,” he whispered, and stared up at me from the floor as if I was some kind of deity.

  He stood up slowly and went to his room, his head bent, his whole posture timid. I followed him and waited until he lay down. Then I tucked the duvet high up his naked body. I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard, and weaved my fingers into his hair.

  “Vincent?” he asked sleepily.

  “Hm?”

  “Why didn’t you spank me?”

  I didn’t reply. “How do you feel, Mikey? Will you be able to sleep?” I asked him instead.

  “Yeah, I’m all mellow.” He grinned softly and settled deeper into the covers.

  “Good. Now shut up and sleep.”

  It didn’t even take five minutes for him to drift off. For some reason, I stayed with him, brushing his hair.

  Maybe an hour later, I stood up from the bed and left his room noiselessly.

  I wiped his cum off the floor by the kitchen corner and settled down with a book.

  11

  Daddy protects me in my sleep

  Michael

  After Vincent fucked me against the living room wall, falling asleep was easy. He always knew what I needed as if he read my subconscious better than I could. I lost myself in the feeling of him dominating my body, and every tension and every fear dissolved. Nothing could hurt me, nobody could reach me, because I was his. The soreness in my hole served as a reminder of whom I belonged to, and I drifted, my dreams full of him.

  Until the dreams changed. This time, my nightmare was different. I wasn’t afraid of being hunted down, of dying in a pool of blood. Monsters didn’t hide in the closet, and no grabby hands reached from underneath the bed. Instead, I dreamed about Vincent leaving. I was at home, in my parents’ old house in New Haven, standing in the driveway. He climbed into the car and closed the door. I began running. I tried yelling his name, but my voice broke, and I could only wheeze as I stumbled after the car. It disappeared down the road, and I fell onto the gravel, sobbing his name.

  I woke up drenched with sweat. Determined to kill the awful nightmare as quickly as possible, I dried off my naked body with a discarded T-shirt from yesterday and got up. In the kitchen, I drank a glass of water. The reality around me, even dark and quiet, calmed me somewhat. I was still in the cabin, and Vincent was in his room, just a few feet away.

  Vincent is just a few feet away.

  My heart beating fast, I pushed the door to his room open. He was awake. The man seemed to never sleep. He watched me calmly, his eyes glinting in the light of the lamp, his face expressionless.

  I swallowed. I longed to touch him so much it made my heart ache.

  “I’m cold. Can I sleep here?”

  Without a word, Vincent lifted the covers. I curled up next to him. As soon as I felt his warmth, and his scent registered in my brain, every muscle in my body relaxed. He threw the blanket over me and turned off the lamp. After a minute, his heavy arm landed across my torso. I sighed.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sleep, Mikey.”

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face, Vincent’s breath tickling my neck.

  “Vincent?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vincent?”

  “What now?”

  “You’re hard.”

  “And?”

  I pushed my ass into his lap and rubbed my ass cheeks against him.

  “Do you want something, boy?” he rasped into my ear.

  “I’m horny.”

  “You’re always horny. My little slut.”

  “Please, Daddy. Will you give me your cum?”

  “I won’t fuck you. You’re sore from la
st night.”

  “Please, Daddy. I just want your cum.”

  “On your front.”

  I did as I was told, like a good obedient boy. Parting my thighs, I offered him my ass, not even caring what he was going to do with me. My senses were full of his scent, his voice, the warmth of his body. Here in his bed, he was my Master. He placed his palm on my ass cheek and opened me up.

  “Wider. Show me your hole.”

  I spread my legs wider and curved my spine, giving him everything.

  “That’s it. My pretty hole. Yesterday, you were so good for me, taking my cock like you’ve been born to do it.”

  “You can take me whenever you want. I’m your fuckhole.”

  “You’re mine, boy?”

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m yours.”

  The tip of his cock kissed my hole, rubbing against my sensitive skin as he jerked himself off. He massaged my ass with his other hand. It didn’t take long. He groaned from deep within, and warm liquid covered my pucker.

  “Fuck, yes,” I muttered. I was so hard I could’ve wept with need.

  I reached back and dipped my finger into his spunk running down my crease. I pushed it back into me, then scooped up more and stuffed my hole with it. It calmed me, easing the burn I’d felt after he’d fucked me last night. Warm palms held my ass cheeks open, and I knew Vincent was watching my fingers.

  “Help me,” I whispered.

  A thick finger ran up my crease, gathering the fluid. I stretched my hole open with two fingertips, and he pushed the cum inside. I clenched, closing it in me. The slick wetness felt heavenly in my sore ass. Vincent petted my pucker and smeared the rest around, massaging it into my skin.

  “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re such a slut for it.” He bit my ass cheek. His mouth on my ass was as close as I’d ever gotten to getting an actual kiss from him. I hummed at the touch, wiggling my ass into his face, begging for more.

  “Cum-crazed slut.”

  He bit the other cheek, then kissed the skin as if soothing the sting. I closed my eyes.

  “Make yourself come,” he ordered, a thumb over my closed hole.

  Thinking of his cum inside me, I reached underneath me and circled my weeping cock. He kept tormenting my ass, little nips and swipes of his tongue, and I fucked into my fist, whimpering into the sheets.

  “My filthy boy.”

  “Yours.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’m yours, Daddy.”

  “Come.”

  And I did. As if he pushed a button with his voice.

  He rolled me onto my back and nodded at my soiled hand.

  “Lick it clean.”

  I lapped at my palm, my balls still tingling, then shoved my fingers into my mouth one by one, eating my cum, while Vincent stared, his eyes hard, jaw clenched, his rugged face exuding dominance. Ownership.

  “Got enough?”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered for the umpteenth time. I knew he liked it when I said it. Like a good obedient boy.

  “I’m hungry too.” He slapped my hip and rose.

  “And even you need more sustenance than just jizz. C’mon. I’ll make breakfast.”

  I grinned. He tried to keep his cool, but Vincent was melting. He liked me. And not just as a warm hole for his big dick.

  I put on a long-sleeved T-shirt, but forewent the underwear. Me traipsing around the cabin naked from the waist down would make Vincent crazy. I made coffee while his cum trickled out of my hole, spreading between my cheeks. I felt so dirty, so sexy.

  I leaned on the kitchen counter, pushing my ass out, teasing him with the glistening smears. I sipped my coffee.

  Vincent smirked, shaking his head at my antics.

  “You should shower.”

  “Don’t want to. I like being filthy, reeking of your cum and sweat.”

  “Go shower before I throw your slutty ass into the lake.”

  I laughed and went to the bathroom. When I came back five minutes later, clean and dressed, Vincent had breakfast ready. I could get used to this.

  12

  His taste

  Vincent

  I had fucked Michael and used his body, but I’d never kissed him. I knew exactly why I was shying away from tasting his lips. If I kissed him, I couldn’t pretend anymore that this was just a game we played to kill the time.

  I had no idea whether it was cabin fever or some sort of Stockholm syndrome for Michael. Either way, like the fool I was, I dreamed of the impossible. I wanted to keep him. However, even if Michael wanted me just as much, our relationship could never last outside this place. We were too different. Once the danger was over, he wouldn’t need me anymore.

  So, I hadn’t kissed him. As if I could keep my heart intact. Yet, for the past three nights, he’d slept in my bed. He was asleep now, curled up in my embrace, his head tucked under my chin. I breathed in his scent, sweat and youth and the cheap shampoo I’d brought with us.

  It didn’t matter anymore whether I’d kissed him or not. He paid me to keep him safe, but I wouldn’t be able to save myself.

  He snuggled closer, sighing, and his hand ran up my side and around my back. Was he awake after all?

  “Vincent,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, my boy?”

  “Why don’t you ever sleep?”

  “I do sleep.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Two.”

  He clutched me closer, growing hard against my hip.

  “Daddy…” he whined softly.

  “You can touch me, boy.” I rolled onto my back.

  Slowly, he crawled down my body. He nuzzled my skin as he went, kissed my sternum, and dragged his parted lips through the graying hair on my chest. How would it feel for him? We were so different. Would the contrast between my rough, hairy, aging body and his smooth, lithe form make him as aroused as me…? My mouth watered as he kissed down my belly. I wanted to taste him too.

  “Wait. Turn around, ass to me.”

  He obeyed and straddled my face. I stuffed both pillows under my head and shoulders so I could reach him comfortably despite our height difference. Then I took his slender cock into my mouth and pushed a spit-slick finger into his ass while he deep throated me, moaning around the invasion. I massaged his gland from the inside and his perineum from the outside, all the while suckling on his cockhead.

  We came almost at the same time.

  He flipped around and clung to me again. I held his beautiful young face between my hands and stared at his reddened lips. I couldn’t take it anymore and succumbed, breaking my last meager barrier. I kissed him, the rest of his and my cum mixing in our mouths. He swallowed eagerly and opened for me again. Underneath the taste of cock was the flavor of his lips and tongue, a little stale with sleep, and so uniquely him… With a groan, I wrapped myself around him and crushed him to me, pushing into his mouth, dueling with his tongue, and he let me devour him.

  Deep kisses turned into gentle pecks and nibbles, and he hummed, his hands roaming my shoulders and neck, fingers tangling in my beard.

  “You taste so good,” he whispered against my lips. “Please kiss me more.”

  He’d asked me to fuck him, to beat him up and use him. He’d asked me to stretch his hole and hurt him. But this…

  Please kiss me more.

  I kissed him again and again, on his lips, the corners of his mouth, then trailed wet, openmouthed kisses all over his face, his temples, his eyebrows, his nose, his chin…

  He fell back asleep, glued to my side, like he needed me to breathe.

  13

  I love it when it hurts

  Michael

  I liked going running with Vincent. It made me buzz with energy and kept my fickle mood manageable for the whole day. I would’ve gone every day, but I guessed he needed some time alone as well, so I only joined him every other day.

  This morning, I jogged first, Vincent a few steps behind me. Was he checking out my ass? I sm
irked at him over my shoulder and tapped my butt with my fingertips for his benefit.

  “Eyes on the trail, boy.”

  I laughed.

  We ran along the lake, the same route over and over—Vincent didn’t want me any deeper in the woods—and I tried hard not to let Vincent know I found it dull. He did his best. It wasn’t like I paid him to entertain me. He was here to keep me alive.

  I paused by a large boulder where the trees parted and offered a view of the cabin on the other side of the lake. I bent over and stretched my hamstrings. Vincent came up to me and slapped my ass.

  “Ow.” I straightened, scowling.

  “You like it when it hurts.” Vincent was unusually playful today, and it made me happy. And horny. Always horny. Jesus. He was my kryptonite.

  “I do.” I stood behind him as he looked at the view. His sweat permeated the air, making me hard in no time.

  I reached around and cupped his groin as I rubbed my erection against his thigh. “I like it when you hurt me.”

  “Fucking Incubus.” He spun around, grabbed my arm, and twisted it behind my back. “You’re playing with fire,” he hissed.

  Warmth spread through my belly, mingled with fear and arousal and anticipation.

  “Punish me.”

  “You’re out of control, Mikey.” Gone was the playful, teasing Vincent.

  “Please, Daddy. Punish me.” Pulling on my arm, he forced me to kneel in the dirt. He ripped my long-sleeved running shirt off and took my other arm. Within seconds, he had my wrists tied behind my lower back with the ruined shirt. The sicko I was, I was moaning the second he tightened the knot.

  He shoved me onto the ground, my face in the moss, and pulled my track pants down my thighs.