The evening settled over the ranch like a heavy blanket, the sun dipping behind the mountains in a blaze of orange that painted the cabins in long, fading shadows. Tyler sat on his narrow bed in the cabin, staring at the worn floorboards as if they held answers to the chaos swirling in his head. He had always thought of Jackson as a straight, cocky jock—during college, he seemed to alternate between pinning opponents on the wrestling mat and bragging about his latest sorority conquest. What he had witnessed that afternoon couldn’t have been more different—Jackson on his knees, getting tag-teamed from both ends. Even more shocking was how much Jackson appeared to enjoy begging to be used by the two older men. At the same time, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, Tyler’s own cock twitched at the thought of being in Jackson’s place. The past few days were really messing with his head, he thought.
The door creaked open, and Jackson stepped in, his boots thudding softly on the wood. His white T-shirt was wet with sweat, making it practically see through as it hugged his solid chest. His damp hair stuck to his forehead in a way that made him look boyishly rugged. He kicked the door shut behind him and plopped down on his bed, rolling his shoulders with a sigh.
"Hey," Tyler said, forcing his voice to sound casual as he glanced up. "What have you been up to? Long day?"
Jackson paused and met Tyler's eyes for a moment, that easy grin sliding into place. "Yeah, man. The usual—mucking stalls, fixing a loose fence post. The guests kept me busy too. Those two from New York? Wanted the full cowboy tour, so I took them on a hike along the river. Chatty as hell." He chuckled, making no mention of the extra services Tyler had witnessed.
Tyler nodded, his throat tight, the question burning on his tongue: Was that the only thing you did with them? But he swallowed it down, unwilling to admit he had been spying. "Sounds exhausting. I spent the afternoon horseback riding. Oscar’s not a bad teacher—he says I’m a natural."
Jackson’s grin widened as he tugged his shirt over his head. "Oscar’s the best. Very patient. You’ll be loping circles around me in no time." He balled the shirt and tossed it toward his duffel, then turned toward their tiny bathroom for a shower.
In the lamplight’s glow, Tyler noticed that Jackson’s torso looked different. It was shaved completely smooth. The dark trail that had always dipped teasingly from his navel downward, the dusting across his pecs and along his arms was gone. As were his bushy armpits. His body seemed even more exposed now, every ridge of his abs etched sharper without the shadow of hair, veins standing out like rivers on a map.
"You shaved?" Tyler asked.
Jackson glanced down at himself, shrugging one shoulder as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Yeah? The heat’s brutal out here—feels better without the extra layer. Less itch, more breeze." He said it offhand, like discussing the weather, but his eyes flicked to Tyler’s for an extra second. "Don’t knock it till you try it, Ty. Might loosen you up."
Tyler forced a laugh as Jackson disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut. Water hissed on as Tyler lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling again, the ache in his chest sharpening. Loosen me up. If only Jackson knew how tightly wound he already was, how the past few days had coiled him like a spring ready to snap.
–––
Tyler jolted awake sometime past midnight, the cabin pitch-black except for a sliver of moonlight slicing through the curtains. The air hung still as he heard the creak of floorboards for the third night in a row.
Across the room, Jackson’s bed was empty again. The door stood ajar, a cool draft whispering in from the darkness outside. Tyler’s heart kicked. Fuck it, it’s time to figure out what he’s up to. He waited a beat, listening to the crickets’ indifferent chirping outside, then slipped out from his bed. He quickly yanked on jeans and a hoodie and stepped into the night.
The ranch lay shrouded in shadow, the cabins squat and silent under a sky clear with stars. Tyler took a moment to get his bearings, then spotted Jackson ahead on the path towards the main lodge. Tyler kept low, boots soft on the gravel, and began to follow. He saw Jackson approach a back door of the lodge—one Tyler hadn’t paid attention to before—and after pausing for a moment, step inside.
Tyler reached the door two minutes later. He turned the handle and found it wouldn’t budge. He fished in his pockets for the main key to the lodge that he was given, but it didn’t fit the lock. What the hell, he thought. There must be a special key for the back door.
Tyler looked around and started walking along the back of the lodge. The area was pitch dark except for one window with thick curtains drawn, light clearly peeking out. He stepped up to look inside but couldn’t see anything, nor could he hear any sound from within.
Defeated, Tyler turned back to walk to his cabin. Whatever Jackson was up to in the lodge every night, Tyler was determined to find out sooner or later.
–––
The next day after breakfast, Tyler was assigned to clean the main lodge’s kitchen. He threw himself into scrubbing the counters and mopping the floor—the ranch wasn’t open for a full week yet, and the kitchen already needed a thorough cleaning. Soap suds foamed under his hands as he wiped down the long wooden cabinets, the scent of bleach cutting through the lingering smell of breakfast. His body still ached from the previous day’s horseback ride, his ass faintly sore from the saddle’s grind, but the work dulled the edge of his restlessness.
Jackson was out by the stables tending to the horses, and Thomas and Oscar had left early for another supply run in town, leaving Tyler alone with the hum of the fridge and his own churning thoughts. As he finished drying the last pot, Tyler realized that with the lodge empty, this was his chance to figure out what was in the back corridor that Jackson had been sneaking to at night.
Tyler stepped out of the kitchen and instead of turning the usual right toward the dining room and public guest areas, he turned left toward the corridor that ran along the back of the lodge. The door leading to the back had a sign hanging that read “Private,” but as luck would have it, it was open, inviting him in. As he entered the hallway, Tyler noticed it had no windows—making the air cooler and the scent of aged wood stronger, mixed with something muskier. One side of the hall was lined with sconces, casting shadows along the wooden plank floor, while the other had four doors spaced out. At the end of the corridor was the locked door Jackson had entered the night before.
The first door along the hall was ajar, and when Tyler peeked in, he found a cozy living room with a large leather sectional, a flat-screen TV hanging on one wall, and a large row of bookshelves on the opposite side. This confirmed what Tyler had assumed all along—that the back of the lodge was Thomas and Oscar’s personal living area.
Tyler felt a pang of guilt for snooping in his boss’s private quarters, but curiosity overcame him, and he continued walking down the hall. The second door was closed, and he tested the handle—locked tight. The third door was the same. No give. Tyler’s fingers lingered, tracing the cool metal, before moving on to the final door.
This one was unlocked, and Tyler stepped into the master bedroom. A king-sized, four-poster wooden bed dominated the space, draped in gray sheets. Two nightstands flanked it, one holding a novel and a bottle of whiskey, the other a leather-bound journal. At the foot of the bed was a large leather trunk, and against the far wall stood an imposing wardrobe. Behind the bed hung an oil painting of two stallions mid-gallop.
Suddenly Tyler heard footsteps echoing from down the hall. Tyler froze, pulse roaring. Fuck. He looked around and saw two doors leading from the bedroom—one to the master bathroom and one to a walk in closet. He made a split decision and ran into the closet. He squeezed himself among the long row of hanging clothes, and held his breath – praying it was dark enough in there that no one could see him.
Through the clothes from his hiding spot, Tyler saw Thomas enter the bedroom, broad frame filling the threshold, cowboy hat in hand, shirt sleeves rolled to expose those roped forearms. Oscar followed in tight jeans, his flannel halfway unbuttoned, holding shopping bags in both hands.
"The one thing I always hate about living out here is how far you have to drive to get anything," Thomas said as he tossed his hat onto the bedpost. He turned to face Oscar, coming a mere feet from the closet where Tyler was hiding.
Oscar dropped the shopping bags on the bed and walked towards his husband. “Worth it though. To be able to send some more alone time with you…without others getting in the way.”
“I thought we talked through this many times, and we both wanted the new arrangement. We agreed it was the right time to take this next step in our relationship.”
“Oh yes I do want it, but sometimes I still want to you myself daddy,” Oscar said as his dark eyes lifted, locking on Thomas's. “I worry you’ll be too distracted by your new toy.”
Thomas stepped forward and pulled Oscar towards him. He slid his hand low, palming Oscar's ass through denim with a possessive squeeze. “Don’t worry boy, I’ll always find time for you. You won’t be neglected.” Thomas's hand kneaded deeper, fingers digging into Oscar’s round cheeks. His other hand traced up Oscar's chest, thumb pinching an exposed, eliciting a sharp inhale. “Besides, he still has a lot to learn from you. Do we have everything ready for tonight?”
"Yeah, we should. Good thing the hardware store just got restocked." Oscar dug through the shopping bags. "I hope this fits him, though, otherwise it’ll take weeks to ship a new one."
"If not, we try using your old one," Thomas said.
"Oh, he wishes—it’s way too big for him."
Thomas’s grip tightened around Oscar, his hand moving down toward Oscar’s crotch. "Don’t get too cocky, boy, or you might find yourself wearing it again," he said as he groped Oscar’s denim-covered package.
Oscar’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. "As you say, boss," he nodded, body arching subtly into Thomas’s hold.
"What do you think of the other kid?" Thomas went on.
"Tyler? He’s pretty good at following direction. A natural at horseback riding. And who knows, he might be a natural at riding other things as well."
"Yeah, he could have potential. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves yet—one boy at a time." Thomas said as he let go of Oscar. He opened the leather trunk at the foot of the bed and placed the shopping bags inside. "Now back to work. Lots to finish before tonight."
With that, the two men turned toward the door, their voices fading down the hall. Tyler waited, holding his breath until silence returned. After another minute, he stepped out of his hiding spot, his legs unsteady, mind reeling with what he’d overheard. Whatever web Jackson had gotten tangled in with Thomas and Oscar, he was now being pulled into it too.
–––
Tyler’s mind remained distracted for the rest of the day. By the afternoon, as he swept the outside of the guest cabins, he found himself still thinking about the conversation he had overheard. What was in that shopping bag from the hardware store, and what did Thomas and Oscar have planned for Jackson later that night? The first few days on the ranch had become a whirlwind—revealing so much about Jackson…and himself. And he felt like he was still only scratching the surface.
Tyler had worked up a heavy sweat, his T-shirt clinging to his muscles, by the time he reached Mark and Richard’s cabin. Eager to escape the afternoon sun, he thought it might be a good opportunity to step it up and provide some turndown service—tidying the room and preparing the bed. The cabin smelled of cedar with a hint of cologne as he entered. Mark and Richard’s things lay scattered—boots by the door, open suitcases in the corner, and a half-empty whiskey bottle on the side table. Tyler swept the floor and fluffed the pillows on the bed, but then his eyes snagged on the laundry hamper in the corner, with discarded clothes spilling out.
The pull was magnetic. The same reckless hunger he had felt a few nights before when he opened Jackson’s duffel bag overpowered any rational thought or restraint. He walked over and fished out his prize: a pair of worn white briefs.
Tyler’s hands trembled as he brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply. The scent hit immediately—thick, masculine, a heady mix of sweat and musk. His cock hardened instantly against his jeans. He pressed harder, the fabric rough against his mouth—the tang was sharp on his tongue as he licked, tasting salt and man.
"Fuck," he whispered, sinking onto the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling the zipper of his jeans open. His cock sprang free, pulsing under his grip as he stroked slowly with pre-cum slicking his palm. The underwear pressed to his mouth muffled his groans.
The door clicked open.
Tyler froze, hand mid-stroke, the underwear still clutched to his face. Mark stood in the threshold, a hiking bag slung over one shoulder, his eyes widening then narrowing with a predatory gleam. "Well, now, what do we have here?" he drawled, his voice smooth as he shut the door behind him.
Tyler scrambled, his face burning, shoving his cock back into his jeans with fumbling hands, the underwear dropping to the floor. "I—shit, I’m sorry, I was just cleaning—"
Mark’s laugh cut him off. He dropped the bag and stepped closer, his large, round frame filling the space, his eyes raking over Tyler’s disheveled form. "Cleaning, huh? Looks more like sampling the goods." He bent, scooping up his own briefs with a smirk, dangling them from one finger. "These turn you on, boy? My scent got you all worked up?"
Tyler swallowed hard, trapped on the bed’s edge. "I didn’t mean—please, don’t tell Thomas."
Mark’s eyes darkened as he stepped between Tyler’s legs, the bulge in his hiking shorts evident now, straining against the zipper. "Tell him? Nah. But you’ll make it right." His free hand cupped Tyler’s chin, tilting it up, his thumb brushing Tyler’s lower lip. "On your knees. Time to taste the real thing. Show me what that pretty jock mouth can do."
Tyler’s heart pounded furiously, a mix of fear and desire surging through him. Despite suppressed fantasies, he had never touched another man’s cock before, let alone put one in his mouth. But the command in Mark’s voice pulled him under. He slid to the floor, his knees hitting the braided rug, his hands tentative on Mark’s thighs.
"Good boy," Mark murmured, unzipping slowly, his cock springing free—it was even thicker up close, with a drop of clear pre-cum forming at the tip. It bobbed inches from Tyler’s face, the musky scent overwhelming. Mark had clearly worked up a sweat from his hike.
Tyler hesitated. "I… I’ve never—"
"First time? Even better." Mark’s hand threaded into Tyler’s hair, guiding him gently at first. "Open up. Start slow—lick the head, taste me."
Tyler leaned in, his tongue darting out tentatively, lapping at the slit where pre-cum beaded, salty and slick. The bittersweet flavor burst on his tongue and he moaned softly, emboldened. He swirled around the crown, tracing the ridge, his lips parting wider to suckle the tip, drawing out more fluid.
Mark groaned, his hips shifting. "That’s it—suck harder. Use your tongue underneath."
Tyler obeyed, taking more in, the girth stretching his lips as he took it deeper, his tongue pressing flat against the underside. He gagged the first time the cock hit the back of his throat, but he adjusted quickly—pulling back to breathe, then diving deeper, hollowing his cheeks for suction that made Mark hiss with approval.
"Fuck, you’re a natural—deeper, boy. Relax your throat." Mark’s grip tightened on the back of Tyler’s head, guiding him gently but insistently. Tyler learned fast, swirling his tongue on the upstroke, his hands coming up to cup Mark’s heavy balls, rolling them gently as he sucked.
The room filled with wet slurps and Mark’s grunt. Tyler’s cock was left aching and untouched, a wet spot forming on his jeans. Tyler remained obediently on his knees, with Mark’s thick thighs pressing against his sweaty chest as he pumped his cock in and out of Tyler’s mouth.
"That’s it, boy, take it all," Mark said with a thrust, pushing all seven inches into Tyler’s throat. Tyler gagged but continued to take it, turned on by his own ability to handle such a thick, manly cock.
"Ugh, boy, you’re about to make me cum. Swallow it all." Hot spurts flooded Tyler’s mouth—thick, salty ropes coating his tongue. He gulped most of it down, but some cum dribbled down his chin as Mark pulled out. Mark took a finger and pushed it back into Tyler’s mouth, and he sucked instinctively.
"Not bad for a first-timer," Mark panted, tucking himself away with a satisfied grin. "Clean up and get out—Richard will be back soon. Unless you want to stay for round two." He winked as Tyler wiped his mouth and turned to the door. The taste lingered in his mouth as he stepped back into the afternoon sun.
