Chapter 4: Hidden Desires (Jonas)
The next morning dawned with a light flurry, the kind that dusted the slopes without ruining visibility. I got to the meeting point early, my mind already replaying yesterday's coffee break. Jeff's dark eyes holding mine, the way he hadn't pulled his knee away, the raw honesty when he talked about never feeling that spark. It had stirred something in me, a heat I'd been trying to ignore since day one. He was straight, or at least that's what I assumed, but the signals were there: subtle, tentative, but real. I had to be careful. Push too far and I'd scare him off. But damn, I wanted to push.
He showed up on time, helmet strapped, cheeks already pink from the walk over. "Morning. Forecast said snow, but it's holding off."
"Yeah, perfect for what we've got planned." I grinned, keeping it light. "We're hitting a longer blue run today. Time to string those turns into something fluid."
We rode the chairlift up, side by side, the metal creaking softly under us. Conversation flowed easy: his impressions of the village, my favorite hidden trails. But underneath it hummed that tension from yesterday. When our thighs brushed on the narrow seat, neither of us shifted. At the top I led him to the run, a winding path through sparse trees, groomed but with enough pitch to build real speed.
"Follow my line," I said. "I'll go first, then you copy."
I carved down, glancing back to watch him. He was improving fast, body leaning into the turns, helmet cutting through the flurries. Halfway we stopped at a pullout, breaths puffing white in the air.
"Quick fix," I told him. "Your hips are dropping back on the steeper bits. Need to stay centered."
I skied close, my chest nearly brushing his arm. Gloved hands on his waist again, but this time I let my fingers press firmer, thumbs sliding just under the hem of his jacket to feel the warmth of his base layer. "Here. Push forward like this."
He inhaled sharply, but didn't move away. His eyes met mine under the visor, dark and searching. "Got it."
The touch lingered. My pulse kicked up, cock stirring in my thermals. Professional, Jonas. But fuck, his build under my hands: solid, warm, that beefy frame begging to be explored.
We finished the run strong. At the bottom he was grinning, helmet off, beard flecked with snow. "That felt amazing. Adrenaline's buzzing."
"Good. You've earned a break. How about après ski? There's a bar at the base with great beer and zero tourists this early."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Lead the way."
The bar was a cozy rifugio-style spot, wooden beams and a crackling fire pit outside. We grabbed a table on the heated patio, shedding helmets and gloves, ordering steins of local lager. The crowd was light: a few locals chatting in Ladino, music low in the background. As the beer hit, conversation loosened.
"You mentioned hookups yesterday," he said after a sip, voice casual but eyes intent. "What's that like? Being open about it all."
I leaned back, studying him. Time to test the waters. "Freeing, mostly. Berlin's scene is wild. Clubs, apps, whatever. I figured out early I like guys. Older ones especially. The confidence, the experience. No bullshit. Had a thing last summer with a guy in his forties, ex-athlete type. Knew exactly how to take charge."
His flush deepened, but he held my gaze. "Sounds intense."
"It was." I let my foot nudge his under the table, playing it like an accident at first. When he didn't pull back, I pressed firmer. "What about you? Ever... experimented?"
He shook his head, but slowly. "Never. Always figured it was just me not finding the right fit with women. But lately..." He trailed off, eyes dropping to his beer.
The air thickened. My cock hardened fully now, straining against my ski pants. "Lately what?"
He met my eyes again. "Lately it feels like maybe I've been missing something."
That was my cue. I glanced around: patio mostly empty, fire pit shielding us from the bar. "Want to find out?"
His breath hitched. "Here?"
"No one's looking." Heart pounding, I slid my hand under the table, across his thigh. He tensed but spread his legs slightly. My fingers found the zipper of his pants, easing it down. Through the opening I cupped him over his boxers, feeling the thick outline of his cock already half-hard. "Tell me to stop if you want."
"Don't," he whispered.
I slipped my hand inside, wrapping around his shaft. Hot, thick, the skin velvety under my palm. He was uncut, foreskin sliding back as I stroked slow, base to tip. Veins pulsed under my fingers, and he grew fully erect fast, maybe seven inches, girthy enough to fill my grip. A bead of precum leaked from the slit, slicking my thumb as I circled the head.
"Fuck," he groaned low, eyes fluttering.
The risk made it hotter: open patio, voices nearby. I pumped faster, twisting at the crown, feeling him throb. His hairy base brushed my knuckles with each downstroke. He gripped the table edge, knuckles white.
"Like that?" I murmured.
"Yeah... don't stop."
I didn't. Stroked him steady, building rhythm, my own cock aching for release. His breaths came ragged, hips twitching up into my hand. When his balls drew tight I knew he was close. I leaned in, whispering, "Come for me, Jeff."
He did. Hot ropes shot over my fingers, spilling into his boxers, the scent musky and raw. I milked him through it, slowing as he shuddered.
"Jesus," he panted, eyes wide.
I withdrew my hand, wiping it discreetly on a napkin under the table. But I wasn't done. The fire in his gaze, the way he looked at me like he'd just discovered something vital... I needed more.
"Finish your beer," I said. "Then come with me."
We paid and left, skis shouldered, heading to a small equipment shed nearby. It was unlocked, dim inside, smelling of wax and pine. I pulled him in, door shut, and pushed him against the wall.
"On your knees?" he asked, voice rough.
"No." I dropped to mine instead. Yanked his pants to his thighs, exposing him fully. His cock hung heavy, still semi-hard, glistening with remnants of cum. Hairy thighs framed it, dark curls at the base leading up to his treasure trail. I leaned in, inhaling his scent: sweat, musk, man.
"Jonas..."
I took him in my mouth. Slow at first, lips stretching around the head, tongue swirling the salty tip. He groaned deep, hands in my hair. I sucked deeper, hollowing cheeks, bobbing along his length. He hardened again fast, filling my throat. I gagged slightly but pushed on, nose brushing his pubes, the coarse hair tickling.
"Fuck, that's... incredible."
I hummed around him, vibrations making him buck. One hand cupped his balls, rolling the heavy orbs, fingers teasing the seam behind. The other stroked what my mouth couldn't reach, slick with spit. He tasted amazing: salty skin, faint soap, the lingering tang of his release.
His hips moved, fucking my face gently at first, then harder. I let him, eyes watering, throat relaxing. Drool dripped down my chin, onto his balls. When I pulled off to breathe I licked along the underside, tracing veins, sucking the head like a lollipop.
"Close," he warned.
I took him deep again, sucking hard. He came with a muffled shout, flooding my mouth. Thick, hot pulses I swallowed greedily, milking every drop.
When he softened I stood, wiping my lips. He pulled me in for a kiss, tentative at first, then hungry, tasting himself on my tongue.
"That was..." He trailed off, breathless.
"Just the start," I said, grinning. Tension shattered, but the heat? Only building.
We straightened up, stepped out like nothing happened. But everything had changed.
... To be continued
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