I make my own prayers while sitting in the church, this time with my companion Jergan beside me. He's been open in public about our friendship and my social situation has improved. But the weight of old habits lingers in the air, their scrutiny softer now but never absent. Their stares are fleeting, the murmurs dulled, yet I still catch the tight-lipped smiles, the careful distance maintained as though faith alone could bridge the space between acceptance and tolerance.
It is easier now, with someone beside me. Jergan's presence softens the sting of the isolating. I stay through the sermon, no longer leaving as soon as the final word is spoken. If I linger, the gossip still comes, but it dulls against the quiet defiance of companionship. The sermon is wrapped up with news for the community.
"Our church will be gaining a new extension. With the village growing, we're expecting new congregants. Thank you once again to Arlo and his sons for the work they will be undertaking. Should any of you wish to volunteer time to help grow our community, all help is welcome."
Everyone claps politely, but my mind is focused on change.
The village is growing. Change is coming.
--------------
Jergan has work, so we part ways. If change is coming, I want it to be faster. New people means blowing away the poor reputation, the bad blood, before they can be poisoned against me. Goal in mind, I walk to the construction sight and see a few people collected.
The rhythmic sound of hammering and the scent of fresh-cut wood are a comfort in contrast to the anvil hammering and scents of the forge. But more than that, the carpenter's shop was lively with workers and volunteers, nothing like the solitude of the forge. The afternoon sun slants through the open framework of the building, casting golden light over a carpenter as he works. He's a man in his mid-fifties, his body thick with the sturdy weight of experience, a dad bod softened by time but made strong by labor. His arms are dusted with sawdust and sweat, flexing with each steady movement, muscles still firm beneath his skin from years of lifting, cutting, and shaping wood.
His short beard is peppered with gray, framing a face lined with both the years and the quiet satisfaction of a man who knows his craft. His shirt clings to the broad plane of his chest, damp from the heat of the day, the fabric straining slightly around his pectorals as he raises a beam into place. There's a casual grace to his movements that speaks to decades in the trade. No wasted strength, just the surety of a man who knows exactly what he's doing. From one craftsman to another, I feel an immediate respect.
As he drives a nail in with a single, decisive strike, he pauses, rolling his broad shoulders, the cords of his forearms shifting as he exhales. A slight smirk tugs at his lips, an almost boyish expression beneath the ruggedness. He takes a step back to admire his progress, running a calloused hand over the wood, his touch as careful as it is firm. The building is taking shape beneath his hands, and there's something undeniably compelling in the way he stands - rooted, solid, the kind of presence that holds a space without trying.
"Woah, big fella."
I turn to see two boys stare up at me, unmistakably children of the man he was just watching. Their father carries his attractiveness with the polish of experience, while the two of them still have the raw, unfinished edges of youth. I do have to actively avert my eyes from noticing how short their shorts are though. The slightly older looking one speaks.
"Are you here to volunteer?"
"Yeah, I was hoping to help out," I said, trying to keep my tone casual but open. "Where should I get started on something?"
The boys exchange a look with a mere flicker of eye contact, a silent conversation I wasn't a part of. Then, almost in unison, they nod. I can’t quite tell what they've just decided, but something passed between them. Something sly. Something playful. I put up my guard, expecting some kind of prank.
They turn their attention back to me, the shift in their energy immediately apparent. They step close, one on each side, and flank me. I feel their arms loop through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their fingers brush across my chest - not subtle, not accidental. One of them speaks, voice thick with implication.
"We need some help a big guy like you could provide~"
The other brother pulls me close so his mouth can whisper in my ear.
"Come with us~"
I raise an eyebrow, but can't help the grin that tugs at the corner of my mouth. Bold. Real bold. I can't lie, I admire the confidence.
I don't resist as they start leading me, one on either side, tugging me gently but firmly in the direction of the trees. Whatever mischief they had in mind, I was game. Once we are secluded from any passerby line of sight, I'm unsurprised when they both go to their knees before me.
"You should whip out that fat cock for us~"
Before I can indulge in their skills and have some afternoon delight, a booming voice full of authority calls out.
"Boys, get back to work!"
The two guys look annoyed, but begrudgingly rise.
"Sorry, let's put this dick appointment on pause for now."
"Our dad's a real ball-buster."
I can only chuckle slightly as they sneakily run, returning to their labor. I give them an out and call out to their older consturction worker. The man, their father, walks over. He's built like a barrel!
"Hello, young man. Sorry my boys are always taking excuses to slack off, particularly with large men like yourself."
"Discipline is hard when you're young."
"Harder when you're full of cum and follow wherever your pricks take you. Sorry again, they're very forward."
"I appreciate their attention, but they're a little young for me, so you saved them the rejection."
Arlo smirks and chuckles to himself before he extends a hand to shake.
"Arlo."
"Heath."
Arlo nods, his short beard shifting slightly as he works his jaw. He's a solid man, broad in the chest, with a build that suggested he could lift twice his weight without breaking a sweat. But there's something else about him. He's a little stiff, like he's holding something back. Heath wasn't sure what, but he recognized the tension in the way Arlo stood, the way he never quite relaxes.
Arlo glances toward his sons inside the shop, both young men with the same sturdy build, chipping away at their respective tasks.
"I've never done carpentry work, hope that's fine."
"All hands are helpful. And you look like a strong man, we'll find a use for you."
"You do good work, I can tell already."
Arlo shrugs, eyes scanning his work.
"It's honest work. Keeps the hands busy. Better than..."
He hesitates, lips pressing together before finishing.
"...better than dealing with things that aren't worth your time."
There's something in the way Arlo speaks, a weight behind his words that has nothing to do with the wood in his hands. Maybe it was just the way men like them talked, circling around what they really meant.
--------------
Heath rolled his shoulders, letting out a deep breath as he braced himself against the heavy wooden beam. He knew he'd feel some of these muscles tomorrow.
"Alright, where do you want it?"
Arlo glances between his notebook and the half-assembled structure in front of them.
"Just a little to the left. Yes, there. Hold it steady, I'll secure the joints."
With a nod, Heath dug his heels into the dirt and lifted. The beam was hefty, but he'd carried worse. His arms strained as he held it in place, watching as Arlo deftly worked with a set of tools, fastening the support beams with careful precision.
"Man, I wish you worked here all the time. Not many guys can lift the beams like you can."
"Thanks. Don't you do this kinda thing a lot?"
"Not personally, no. But I design structures often enough that I know how it should be done. It’s all about angles and leverage, you see."
He gestured vaguely at the framework, seeing something only a trained eye can perceive.
"And, of course, someone with the strength to put theory into practice."
"Yeah, well, I'm good for lifting things."
"That’s an understatement! I’ve seen oxen struggle more with less."
Heath let out a short laugh, adjusting his grip.
"Guess I had a lotta practice. Spent most my life doin’ heavy work."
Arlo tightened the last bolt and stepped back to inspect his work.
"Good. Because we’ve got another two beams to go."
Heath grunts in acknowledgement, a small smile on his face as he stepped up to the next beam.
--------------
The sunset came after hours of back-breaking labor. Heath grunted as he lifted another beam onto his shoulder, bracing it against the half-built framework. While Arlo secures a few beams, Heath gets some water and rests his muscles. Arlo’s sons flank Heath again as he steps away from the outhouse, casual but deliberate, this time not clinging to him thankfully. The older one speaks first.
"Hey, Heath, right?"
The younger grins.
"I've just been calling you 'big guy.'"
Heath exhales, taking them in.
"Yeah, that's me. You're Arlo's sons, obviously."
"Ivan. The firstborn."
"Gregory, the better one."
Heath smirks, enjoying their practiced routine.
"Alright, Ivan and Gregory. What's up? If you're about to ask for help with something, fair warning - my muscles are clocked out for the day."
Take the hint, in other words. Ivan waves that off.
"Nah, nothing like that. We just wanted to ask:"
"What do you think of our dad?”
Heath blinks.
"As a craftsman? He's different from me, but I respect his skill."
"Yeah, but what do you think of him?"
They looks giddy, Heath's eyes narrow suspecting a prank.
"If you're dancing around something for my delicate sensibilities, just spit it out."
The brothers exchange one of those wordless, scheming sibling looks. Gregory speaks first.
“Well, we heard you like men.”
Ivan tilts his head and continues.
"So... do you like our dad?"
Heath stares. Gregory elbows Ivan.
"Tactful."
"We just think he likes you. He's never spent this much time with someone and actually looked comfortable."
Heath hesitates, possibilities settling in his head he has no intention of discussing with these kids pimping out their dad. Thankfully, their dad calls out for them, sending them back to work. Heath recontextualizes their interactions and wonders what he might have missed.
--------------
"This the last one?"
Arlo glanced at his notes.
"Almost. One more after this, then we secure them."
Heath adjusted his grip on the beam, rolling his shoulders before hoisting it into place. His muscles burned, but he pushed through the work. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Arlo watching him. Not just watching, gazing. His breath hitches for half a second. Had that look always been there? How had he missed it?
He set the beam down with a dull thunk and turned, lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow. Arlo was quick to glance away, rubbing the back of his neck as if suddenly engrossed in a knot in the wood beside him.
"You need something?"
Heath asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Arlo hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Just... making sure you're pacing yourself. No sense in wrecking those shoulders of yours."
Heath exhaled a short chuckle, shaking his head.
"You sound like your sons."
That made Arlo grimace.
"Gods help me."
Silence stretched between them, comfortable but weighted. Heath found himself searching Arlo’s face, reading between the lines of every quiet glance, every lingering pause. It all looked different now.
"Your boys asked me something weird earlier."
Arlo's brow furrows.
"Trying to get in your pants again, no doubt."
Heath rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling strangely self-conscious for a man who spent his day lifting lumber.
"They, uh... wanted to know what I think of you."
Arlo looks absolutely gobsmacked.
"I swear. These kids, I swear."
"Don't worry, I didn't give them an ammunition to taunt you later - I didn't answer them. ...I figured telling them I think you're sexy would invite ridicule."
Arlo's eyes widen and his face instantly reddens. It's absolutely adorable seeing this older man look like a blushing schoolgirl.
"Do you- I mean, is that right?"
Arlo held his gaze this time, something unreadable flickering behind his steady expression. Then, after a beat, he nodded.
"Tell you what."
Heath borrows Arlo's papers and pen, writing down his address.
"If you're interested in figuring out whether I'm telling the truth or not, come by and we can have some no stakes, no stress fun."
Handing back the items, Heath gives one final stretch, enjoying Arlo's stare at his treasure trail as shirt rises.
"I'll see you later."
"Yeah... later."
--------------
Heath, fresh from washing the sweat of the day’s labor off his face, answers a knock at the door he'd been expecting. Arlo stood stiffly on the porch, wearing a high-collared vest over a crisp, dark shirt, sleeves neatly buttoned at the wrists. His boots were polished, his hair tidier than before, and there was a faint air of cologne. His eyes were glued to Heath in his loincloth and nothing else.
"You clean up well! Maybe I should have worn something too!"
"I'm not complaining about the view."
Heath pours them some ale, sliding one of the tankards across the table before taking a seat and stretching his legs out. Arlo sat across from him, still stiff, fingers tracing the rim of his drink. For a while, they drank in comfortable silence, the occasional clink of tankards breaking the stillness. The room was lit by a few low-burning lanterns, casting the space in warm, flickering light. It smelled like wood, leather, and the faint traces of something hearty Heath had cooked earlier.
Heath finally broke the silence.
"If I'm coming onto you too strong, I can feel it back in. I wanted to be bold for you."
"I'm just not sure... I'm ready for something serious is all."
"I'm not looking for anything serious either! We'd just be two guys blowing off steam. And if any feelings start coming up, we'll talk about it. Okay?"
Their eyes met over the table, the tension between them shifting from awkward to something more settled. Heath leans back, watching him for a moment longer before finally speaking again.
"Life's too short. Enjoy yourself."
Arlo exhaled, took another drink, and let himself sink into the warmth of the evening. Maybe he could do simple. Just for tonight.
--------------
The two finish another drink each, enjoying the buzz that came after a long day. Unlike before, the two speak comfortably, as familiar as two people who hadn't met days ago.
"Though I won't deny, there are times I miss more… hands-on labor. Years ago, when my wife was still alive, we worked together. She was the builder. I was… well, the assistant, I suppose."
"Was?"
"It was some time ago. She passed."
Heath pauses, unsure what to say except-
"Sorry."
Arlo shook his head.
"Time dulls the pain, though it never fully fades. In some ways, I feel I've been standing still ever since."
"How d'you mean?"
"I've been alone since her passing. At first, out of grief. Then out of habit. And now…"
He glanced at Heath with a rueful smile. "Now..."
Heath nodded, arms crossed.
"Sounds rough."
"It is. I won’t lie, it's frustrating, being pent up for years with no real outlet. But it feels… wrong to move on."
Heath was silent for a moment before he said.
"Maybe she wouldn’t want you to be stuck like that."
"Perhaps not. But knowing and feeling are different things. I just... no. I'm not going to drag down yet another conversation. I'm trying not to be that guy that's always talking about his previous relationship. That's not what I came for."
Feeling bold, Heath takes one of his hands in his own.
"You seem stressed."
He moves with a nervous boldness masked by a suggestive smirk, reaching a bare foot under the table to cup Arlo's groin. Arlo, unsuspecting and pent up, gasps with surprise and then leans back in his seat.
"...does this mean you wanna help me work off some stress?"
"Absolutely. I'd love to help a new friend, especially one who's packing what feel like a girthy cock."
"Then get to work, Heath."
Finally getting approval from the thick dad, Heath smiles more genuinely. He undoes Arlo's button and fishes out his thick meat. Heath has to stare in fascination. Arlo isn't just big, he's BIG - wider than he is long. Wrapping his fingers around the shaft, he can feel it radiating warmth.
"I can't even wrap my hand around it."
"Don't just admire it, boy."
Needing no more incentive, Heath begins stroking Arlo's manhood. Arlo grins, enjoying the taboo of having a man service him in the dead of night. Heath is entranced watching the foreskin gather over the dickhead with each pull.
"Don't just play with it."
Heath obeys and speeds up the movement up and down, eliciting a groan of appreciation, voice heavy with lust. Then Heath, unsure why, kisses the bear of a man, pressing soft lips to hairy flesh of his face. Arlo hesitates a moment before turning and returning the kiss. Arlo reflects how long it's been since he's been kissed as their tongues entangle, teeth nipping, lips meeting again and again. The whole time Heath continues jerking the man off, leading to Arlo firing off cum across his own stomach and coating Heath's hand. Arlo grunts and thrusts his hips upwards, cock twitching.
Once he comes down from his climax, chest heaving, Arlo finds his voice.
"Gods, I needed that."
Heath, feeling bold, lifts hus spunk-coated hand to his mouth and lavaciously licks his fingers clean. Arlo's eyes go wide with desire, his excitement engorged his formerly softening cock back in action. The erotic thought of having this hairy, burly man and his thick, thick hog all to himself is enough to make Heath drool. That cock was made to be serviced until Arlo was completely spent. Going to his knees, Heath takes a whiff of the new cock in his life - a rich, sweet musky scent of masculinity luring him in closer. Feeling emboldened, Arlo lifts his junk and drops it against Heath’s forehead.
"Get to it, slut."
Glancing down, Heath admires and fondles the hairy ballsack. Eager to taste the flavor, Heath begins sucking and licking Arlo's ballsack. His testes are so full, sagging like two apples on the vine. Smothered in the fragrant nut fuzz, Heath inhales, heart racing. One orb, then the other - Heath slides his tongue back and forth, collecting the spicy blend of sweat, piss, and cum. Arlo, impatient, grips Heath's hair in a fist.
"Get to work. Don't just enjoy yourself."
His grips eases once Heath complies, taste buds rolling over Arlo's thick piss slit, the last drops of his load sliding out onto the appreciative Heath's tongue.
"Fuck, you're a good cocksucker. You really do like men - gonna have you drain me regularly."
Heath can't think he's so wrapped up in the virile man's flavors. No cocksucker would resist this challenge, so Heath stretches his jaw and manages to get Arlo's dickhead into his mouth. He's rewarded with a dollop of pre on his tongue. Arlo, feeling a warm hole for the first time since his wife's passing, can't resist his instincts and starts moving his hips, sliding his weapon to the hilt in Heath's mouth, gagging the younger man. Balls slap into his chin, lips spread around his thick and imposing girth. Strings of saliva dribbling down and Heath's eyes water uncontrolled. The sight does something for the sadistic Arlo and he luxuriates in the sloppy blowjob; the most his wife could take is nothing compared to this. Bobbing up and down with a hand on his head, Heath's tongue works the bottom side of Arlo's cock until, finally, his devotion is met with a pulse of his heartbeat in his dick, hot sperm surging down his throat. Heath pulls off as Arlo points to Heath's bedroom.
"Lay on your back k and drop your head over the edge of the bed - I'm gonna pump you full of this hot spunk."
Eager to fill the emptiness in his throat again, Heath follows orders obediently.
Heath is used for a long time - one orgasm is not enough for Arlo. Phlegm covers Heath's face when he chokes, but is undeterred. He gets throat fucked until Arlo finally decides to unslot himself.
"I canna feel ma mouf."
"You've got more than one hole."
Heath is shoved firmly, his pants slide off as his waist is lifted. Next goes his loincloth which Arlo raises to his nose, apparently enjoying Heath's sweat-soaked smell. Once he gets his fill of the fabric, he goes to the source, sniffing and inhaling all of Heath's unwashed taint scents. Arlo's tongue slurps wetly at the hole he finds. Arlo's stubble against his thighs and ass makes things tingled low in his belly. By the time Heath's properly lubed up and eager to be stuffed, he calls out.
"Please, fuck me. I can't take it anymore!"
Lining himself up to Heath's pucker, he slowly plants himself to the hilt. Soon, they find a rhythm of gently screwing Heath's ass, sliding from balls deep to almost all the way out. Arlo's balls slapping Heath's ass, building up his load while gripping his waist. He feels Arlo begins to pound more solidly, speeding up his thrusting now that he's sure Heath has adjusted to his thick dad prick. Arlo leans down to groan into Heath's ear while changing his grips to his shoulders. Repositioned into a better position to plow his submissive fling, Arlo's hips slap in complete reckless abandon. Heath moans into the pillow, fully enjoying being a bitch in heat underneath a man. Being no slouch, Heath begins back-thrusting onto his lover's crotch even harder than he was getting it. The two rut for a long time, both focusing on Arlo's large member bottoming out inside Heath.
"I'm gonna fill you up, make sure you're good and pregnant~"
"Go for it! Fill me up! Cum deep inside me!"
"Ah yeah, get ready for my baby batter!!"
With one final thrust all the way in, Arlo unloads his thick, potent dad jizz, rope after rope bulges Heath's stomach. Heath thought that'd be it, but a firm calloused hand wraps around his dick, fondling and stroking his length. The intense pleasure of being used by a man and getting perked off gives way to an explosive orgasm across the bedsheets. Arlos, satisfied, slides out of Heath, a small pool of his semen pouring like a waterfall down his cleft.
"I needed that. Can I count on you for some stress relief every now and then?"
"~sure~"
Heath, still blissed out, fails to notice Arlo get dressed and leave some money on the table for servicing Arlo like a whore. Being a married man's side piece might not be so bad.
--------------
The morning started early like every other morning, the sun barely cresting over the horizon to the rooster's loud-assed bitching. His overworked muscles ached, but it was welcome - like proof he was alive. As he pulls on his trousers, there's a knock at the door. Heath is still shirtless when he opens the door to find Jergan leaning against the frame, looking as smug as ever in his sexy guardsman uniform.
"Well well, good morning officer~"
Heath steps aside to let him in. Jergan slips inside with an easy confidence.
"I knew you'd be awake. Figured I'd start my morning right and that you might help with that~"
Heath huffs a quiet laugh, shutting the door behind him. Jergan's hands were already on his waist, drawing him in. It was a slow, indulgent kind of morning, one that left Heath's mouth worked over on sucking out a load from Jergan, letting him leave with a satisfied smirk. Heath rolled his sore shoulders, pulling his focus toward the long day ahead.
By midday, the forge is alive with the ring of hammers and the steady roar of the furnace. Heath worked through orders with steady efficiency, the heat of the fire seeping into his skin. It was just as he was taking a break, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, that he spotted a familiar figure entering the workshop. Sethis.
"Back from your travels?"
Sethis grinned, brushing soot from his sleeves as he approached.
"Just this morning. Thought I'd find you here."
Heath smirked, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Need some help or is this a personal visit?"
Sethis leaned in, voice dropping just for him.
"A very personal visit, if you've got time~"
The next thing Heath knew, they were sneaking away to the office in the corner of the workshop. Sethis' hands were already at his belt, and Heath barely had time to huff a laugh before being pressed up against the wall. It was quick, heated fuck, the kind that left both of them breathless. When they finally straightened themselves out, Sethis grinned, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair.
"I should let you go back to work. I should be back next week or so."
Heath chuckles, adjusting his clothes. "Yeah, get outta here before the boss comes looking."
Sethis winks before slipping out, leaving Heath to shake his head and get back to work, more energized than before.
The forge work bled into the late afternoon, but instead of heading home, Heath had volunteered for extra work at the construction site. Arlo was already there when he arrived, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy from the labor.
"You didn't have to help. Aren't you tired?"
Heath shrugs.
"Didn’t have to. Felt like it."
They work in companionable silence, the steady rhythm of hammering and lifting filling the space between them. The sun dips lower, and the air cools, but the heat of exertion still cling to them.
At some point, when they had a moment to themselves, Arlo wipes sweat from his forehead and glances at Heath.
"We could take a break."
Heath smirks, catching the glint in Arlo’s eyes.
"Yeah?"
It didn't take much after that. They find a secluded spot, the structure providing just enough cover, and Heath barely had time to brace himself before Arlo was on him, all heat and urgency. It was different from the morning's slow indulgence or the midday heat with Sethis - this was Arlo's sexual sobriety broken. He's craving more. Heath's ass is stuffed full for a long time while keeping their fucking quiet. Eventually, they pull away, straightening their clothes and catching their breath, Arlo runs a hand through his hair, exhaling.
"This was-"
"Good."
"More than good. Makes me wish I had a casual friend years ago."
They made their way back to the worksite, falling into step beside each other. If either boy noted their long absence, they made no comments or shot any looks. The work wasn't finished and the night wasn't over, but Heath found himself enjoying the steady, unspoken rhythm of it all.
Curious over the new village development plans, Heath heads inside. But the plans cause Heath's stomach to drop - the new development would go right over the unmarked grave where he'd buried his uncle. Panic sets in. If they dug there, they'd find Garland's remains, and questions would follow - questions Heath wasn't sure he could lie through successfully.
That night, under the cover of darkness, Heath returns to the site with a shovel. Digging up the body was harder than burying it. The stench hit him first, then the sight of the decomposed remains. Singularly focused, he works quickly, dragging the corpse through the woods to the river's edge. Without ceremony, he heaved it into the rushing water and watched as the current carried away his secret.
By dawn, the grave was empty, and Heath was home safe, hands filthy but his tracks covered. The river would take care of the rest.
--------------
Hushed whispers.
"Did he just throw a body into the river!?"
"I... think so. What if he's dangerous? What if he tries to... hurt Dad?"
"We won't let that happen."
