The afternoon sun was beating down on the backyard. I was lying on one of the old lounge chairs under the big oak tree, trying to lose myself in the book I was reading — Perfume by Patrick Süskind. Jonas had left a couple of hours earlier to go for a run and then drive into town to buy more protein powder. For once, the house was quiet.
I should have known it wouldn’t last.
I heard footsteps on the grass and looked up. Three guys were walking around the side of the house like they belonged there. My stomach dropped the second I recognized them.
Tyler, Brandon, and Jake.
Three guys from my old high school. The same three who had made my last years there miserable.
“Well, look who it is,” Tyler said with a grin that immediately made my skin crawl. “Little David. Still hiding behind books, huh?”
I closed Perfume slowly and sat up.
“What do you want?”
Brandon laughed. “Heard your cousin from out of town was staying here. Wanted to see if the rumors were true… or if you were just making shit up again like you always did.”
Jake walked straight up to me and snatched the book out of my hands before I could react.
“Perfume?” he read, flipping through the pages with a disgusted expression. “What the fuck is this? Some weird gay shit?”
“Give it back,” I said, standing up.
Tyler stepped in front of me, blocking my way.
“Still the same little faggot,” he said, looking me up and down. “Skinny, quiet, always reading instead of doing anything normal. Did your cousin turn you into his personal bitch already or what?”
My heart started pounding.
“Shut up.”
Jake laughed and walked over to the pool. He held the book above the water.
“You still read this garbage?”
“Don’t—”
He dropped it.
The book hit the surface of the water with a soft splash and slowly sank to the bottom. I felt something twist inside my chest.
Before I could move, Tyler shoved me hard. I fell back onto the grass.
“Still weak as fuck,” he said. “Still the same pathetic little queer.”
They started circling me, laughing. The same names they used to throw at me in high school came pouring out.
Faggot.
Pussy.
Homo.
Weirdo.
Every word hit like a slap. I tried to get up, but Brandon pushed me back down.
That’s when I heard fast, heavy footsteps coming from the side of the house.
Jonas appeared, still in his running clothes, breathing hard from the run back. The second he saw what was happening, his face changed completely.
He didn’t say a single word.
He sprinted straight at Tyler and punched him so hard in the face that the guy went down instantly. Brandon tried to grab him from the side, but Jonas turned and drove his knee into his stomach, then grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him onto the grass. Jake tried to run, but Jonas caught him by the back of the neck and threw him down like he was nothing.
It was over in less than a minute.
All three of them were on the ground, bleeding and terrified. Jonas stood over them, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “And if I ever see any of you near him again, I swear to God I’ll break your fucking legs.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled up and ran, stumbling over each other as they disappeared around the house.
The backyard fell into a heavy silence.
Jonas turned to me. The anger in his face disappeared the moment he saw me on the ground, shaking.
“David…”
I couldn’t stop it.
The fear, the humiliation, everything from high school that had just come rushing back — it all hit me at once. My breathing was fast and broken. Tears started falling before I could even try to stop them.
Jonas walked over and dropped to his knees in front of me. Without saying anything, he pulled me into his arms.
I completely broke.
I grabbed onto his sweaty tank top and buried my face in his chest, sobbing hard. My whole body was trembling. I couldn’t control it. All the fear I had felt while those three surrounded me came pouring out.
Jonas held me tightly, one big hand on the back of my head, the other rubbing slow circles on my back.
“It’s okay,” he murmured against my hair. “They’re gone. I’ve got you lil cousin, I’ve got you.”
I kept crying into his chest. I couldn’t stop. My fingers were gripping his shirt like I was afraid he would disappear. His scent was strong — sweat from the run, his natural smell, something warm and masculine that filled my nose every time I breathed in.
And somehow, that smell made me feel safer than anything else in that moment.
I pressed my face harder against him, breathing him in while I shook in his arms. He didn’t let go. He just held me there on the grass, strong and solid, letting me fall apart.
After a long time, my crying slowed down to quiet, shaky breaths. I was still trembling, but the worst had passed.
Jonas pulled back just enough to look at my face. He wiped my tears with his thumb, surprisingly gentle for someone who had just beaten the shit out of three guys.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “I’m right here.”
I looked up at him, eyes red and wet. My heart was still racing, but for a completely different reason now.
I was scared.
Scared of how much I had needed him.
Scared of how good it felt to be in his arms.
Scared of the way his smell was calming me down and making my chest ache at the same time.
And most of all, I was terrified of what it meant that I didn’t want to let go.
Jonas stayed there with me, one arm still wrapped around my back, holding me close.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
The house was quiet after the three assholes ran off.
I was sitting on the grass, arms wrapped around myself, when Jonas looked past me toward the pool. His expression changed the second he saw the book floating near the edge, the pages already swollen and ruined.
“Fuck…” he muttered.
He walked over, crouched down, and carefully pulled what was left of Perfume out of the water. The cover was peeling. Most of the pages were stuck together. He stared at it for a few seconds, jaw tight, then looked back at me.
“They ruined your book.”
I didn’t answer. My throat still felt tight.
Jonas stood up, still holding the wet book. Sweat was running down his neck and chest. His tank top was stuck to his body, dark with moisture from the run and the fight. He looked at the destroyed book again and exhaled hard through his nose.
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said. “Actually… I’ll buy you a few. Whatever books you want. We’ll go into town tomorrow and you can pick as many as you like.”
The way he said it was rough, almost annoyed, but there was something genuine underneath.
I nodded once.
Jonas dropped the ruined book on the grass and wiped his hands on his shorts.
“Come inside.”
We went into the living room. He didn’t bother going upstairs to shower. He just dropped onto the big couch with a heavy sigh, still sweaty and dirty from everything. His tank top clung to his chest and stomach. Dark patches of sweat spread under his arms and down the center of his back. The smell of him filled the room — strong, masculine, mixed with grass and the faint metallic scent of blood from the fight.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rolled his shoulders with a low groan.
“My back is killing me,” he muttered. “Those fuckers made me work I put them down.”
He looked over at me.
“Come here and massage my shoulders, lil cousin.”
It wasn’t a request.
I hesitated for a second, then walked over. Jonas shifted forward on the couch and pulled his tank top off in one motion, tossing it onto the floor. His back and shoulders were still shiny with sweat. The muscles looked even thicker up close, tense and marked in a few places from the fight.
I knelt on the couch behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders.
His skin was hot and slick under my palms. The second I pressed my thumbs into the hard muscle near his neck, he let out a low, rough sound.
“Harder.”
I pressed deeper, working my fingers into the tight knots. His shoulders were dense and powerful. Every time I dug my thumbs in, I felt the thick muscle shift under my hands. Sweat made my palms slide easily over his skin. The scent of him was stronger this close — warm, heavy, and impossible to ignore. It was like a drug to me, addictive.
Jonas dropped his head forward, giving me better access. His breathing slowly changed as I worked lower, across the wide plane of his back and then back up to his shoulders.
After a few minutes, I felt him shift.
It was small at first. Then more deliberate.
I glanced down over his shoulder and saw it.
The thick outline of his cock was pressing hard against the front of his shorts. Fully hard. The fabric was stretched tight around it, the shape impossible to miss.
My hands slowed.
Jonas noticed.
He didn’t say anything right away. He just stayed where he was, head still slightly bowed, breathing a little heavier than before. The tension in the living room thickened until it felt hard to breathe.
“Don’t stop,” he said, voice lower now.
I forced my hands to keep moving, but my eyes kept dropping to the hard shape between his legs. Every time he shifted even slightly, it flexed against the fabric.
Jonas turned his head just enough to glance at me from the corner of his eye.
“You’re staring again, lil cousin…”
I didn’t answer.
He let out a short, rough breath that was almost a laugh.
“You’ve been staring at it since it got hard.”
My face burned. My hands were still on his sweaty shoulders, but I couldn’t look away from the thick outline of his cock.
Jonas reached back without looking, grabbed my wrist, and slowly guided my hand down over his shoulder, across his chest, and lower.
He didn’t force it all the way.
He just brought my hand close enough that my fingers brushed against the hard, hot length of him through his shorts.
Jonas’s breath caught.
I froze.
The heat of him burned through the fabric. He was thick and solid under my hand. I could feel it twitch once when my fingers made contact.
Jonas kept his hand loosely over my wrist, not pushing me further, but not letting me pull away either.
“Go on,” he said quietly, voice rough. “You already started looking. Might as well feel it.”
My fingers curled slowly around the thick shape of him through the soft material. The heat and weight of him sank into my palm. It was big…
Jonas’s hips shifted forward a fraction, pressing more firmly into my hand.
A low, controlled sound left his throat.
The living room felt too quiet. Too hot. Every part of me was screaming that this was wrong — that he was my cousin, that he was supposed to be straight, that I shouldn’t be touching him like this. But my hand stayed where it was, fingers tightening carefully around the hard length of him.
Jonas didn’t stop me.
He just breathed through it, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded as he looked straight ahead.
After several long seconds, he finally spoke again, voice lower than before.
“That’s enough.”
He didn’t pull my hand away immediately.
He let me feel the full heat and weight of him for a few more moments before he released my wrist.
I pulled my hand back like I’d been burned.
Jonas stayed sitting there on the couch, still shirtless and sweaty, the thick outline of his cock still very obvious against his shorts. He rolled his shoulders once, then glanced at me with that same unreadable, cocky expression.
“Still sore,” he said, like nothing had just happened. “Keep going.”
I stared at him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I said keep going, little cousin. You owe me that for beating the shit out of those motherfuckers.”
My hands were still shaking when I placed them back on his shoulders.
The tension in the living room was thick enough to choke on.
“If they touch you or talk to you again… I will fucking kill them. I swear to you, lil cousin.”
And neither of us said another word about what my hand had just done.
Jonas left the house just after nine.
He didn’t say where he was going. He just grabbed his keys, threw on a black jacket hoodie over a white tank top, and walked out the door with that same careless confidence he always had. I heard the car start and the sound of it disappearing down the street.
My mom had already left for her night shift at the hospital. The house was completely quiet.
I tried to read. I really did. I sat on my bed with the new copy of Perfume Jonas had bought me earlier that week, but the words kept sliding off the page. My mind kept going back to the afternoon — to the way his cock had felt under my hand through his shorts, thick and hot and unmistakable. To the way he hadn’t pulled away. To the way he had simply said keep going like nothing important had happened.
Around midnight I heard the front door open.
Heavy footsteps came up the stairs. I sat up in bed just as my bedroom door pushed open.
Jonas stood there, slightly unsteady, the smell of beer rolling off him in a warm wave. His hoodie was unzipped. The white tank top underneath was damp with sweat around the collar and under the arms. His eyes were darker than usual, half-lidded, and there was a lazy, dangerous edge to the way he looked at me.
“You’re still awake,” he said. His voice was rougher than normal.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Did you miss me, lil cousin?” His tone was cocky and low.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click of the lock was loud in the quiet room. He pulled the hoodie off and tossed it on the floor, then reached behind his head and dragged the tank top off in one motion. His chest and shoulders were shiny under the low light. The thick patches of hair under his arms looked darker, damp with sweat.
He walked toward the bed.
“Get up.”
I hesitated.
Jonas stopped at the edge of the mattress and looked down at me. Even half-drunk, the authority in his voice was absolute.
“I said get up, little cousin.”
I stood. My legs felt unsteady. He was close enough that I could smell the beer on his breath mixed with the heavy scent of his body — sweat, skin, body spray and that deep masculine smell that had been driving me insane since the day he arrived.
Jonas lifted one arm and rested his hand on the back of his neck, fully exposing his armpit.
“Come here.”
I stepped closer. He grabbed the back of my head with his other hand and pulled my face straight into the damp hollow of his armpit. The scent hit me hard — stronger, muskier, almost overwhelming. I breathed it in without any resistance. I was like a junkie and his odor was my dose.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “Fucking breathe it.”
He held me there for a long time, fingers tight in my hair, forcing me to take slow, deep breaths against his skin. When he finally pulled my head back, my face was damp and my heart was hammering.
Jonas looked at me for a second. Then he turned he pushed me forward until my back was pressed against the wall of my bedroom. His big body crowded in front of me. One hand stayed on the back of my neck, keeping my body against the cool wall. The other moved between us.
I heard the soft sound of him pushing his shorts down.
“Don’t move.”
I felt the heat of him before I saw anything. Then he stepped closer and the heavy, thick length of his cock brushed against the my cheek. Even without looking I could tell it was big — heavier and thicker than I had imagined when I touched it through his shorts.
Jonas started stroking himself slowly right in front of me. The wet sound of it filled the quiet room. His breathing grew heavier in the almost dark room.
“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy lil cousin,” he muttered, voice low and rough.
“Walking around with that look on your face. Smelling me. Touching me. Acting like you don’t want it.”
“Jonas—”
“Shut up.”
He pressed closer. The thick, veiny shaft of his cock dragged against the side of my face as he stroked faster. I could feel the heat of it, the weight, the way the foreskin moved under his fist. He was completely hard now — a thick, heavy, uncut cock that felt almost too big just resting against me.
His free hand tightened on the back of my neck, keeping me pinned to the wall.
“You’re gonna stay right there and take it,” he said. His voice was getting rougher, more strained. “You hear me?”
I tried to turn my head. “Jonas, wait—”
He pushed my face harder against the wall.
“I said stay.”
His breathing turned harsh and uneven. The sound of him stroking himself grew faster, wetter. I could feel every movement of his fist, every twitch of that thick cock against my skin. The smell of his arousal mixed with the sweat from his musky balls until it was all I could breathe.
“Fuck—” he growled.
Before I could react, the thick, flushed head of his cock slapped against my cheek. It was even bigger up close — heavy, dark with blood, veins standing out along the shaft, the foreskin pulled back just enough to show the wet pink head.
Jonas gripped my hair with one hand and started stroking himself hard and fast right in front of my face.
“Open your mouth.”
“Jonas, I—”
“Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”
I opened. He kept stroking, the thick head dragging across my lips and tongue with every pass of his fist. His stomach was tight. His thighs were rigid. The wet, filthy sound of him jerking off filled the room.
“Fuck, look at you,” he snarled. “On your knees for your own big cousin. You wanted this. Don’t fucking lie.”
His fist moved faster. His breathing turned into low, animal grunts. The head of his cock kept tapping against my tongue and lower lip. I could taste the salt of his precum.
Then his whole body locked up.
Jonas let out a deep, guttural roar as he came.
The first thick rope of cum hit my cheek and the bridge of my nose. The second landed across my open mouth and tongue. He kept stroking through it, growling like an animal, pumping rope after rope of heavy, hot cum across my face. It landed in thick streaks over my forehead, my eyelids, my lips, my chin. Some of it ran down my neck. The amount of it was ridiculous — heavy, creamy, and endless.
He didn’t stop until every last pulse had been milked out onto my face.
For a few seconds the only sound in the room was both of us breathing hard.
Jonas looked down at me, still holding my hair, his thick cock still half-hard and shiny. Cum was dripping from my chin onto my shirt.
He didn’t give me time to process it.
He lifted one heavy thigh, planted his foot on the edge of the bed, and pushed my face lower.
“Clean my balls.”
The skin of his sac was hot and damp with sweat. The smell was even stronger here — deep, masculine, and overwhelming. I hesitated only a second before dragging my tongue over them. Jonas let out a low, satisfied sound and kept his hand in my hair, guiding me.
“That’s it. Get them nice and clean. Fucking suck on them.”
I took one into my mouth, then the other, licking and sucking while he watched me with dark, half-lidded eyes. The taste of salt and skin and leftover cum mixed on my tongue. He made me stay there until he was satisfied.
When he finally pulled me off, my face was a complete mess — covered in his cum, sweat, and the lingering scent of his body.
Jonas looked down at me for a long moment. Something possessive and dark settled in his expression.
“Get on the bed.”
I climbed onto the mattress on shaky legs. He followed, still naked from the waist down, and lay down on his back. Then he reached over, grabbed me, and pulled me against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. His heavy muscular arm locked around my waist, trapping me against the solid heat of his body.
The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing.
Jonas turned his head slightly. His voice was low, rough, and completely certain when he spoke against my hair.
“You’re fucking mine. Don’t forget that, lil cousin.”
His arm tightened around me, heavy and final.
I didn’t answer.
I just lay there in the dark with his cum drying on my face, the taste of him still thick in my mouth, and the weight of his arm making it clear that something between us had permanently changed.
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
