The pickup's cab smelled like sweat, hay, and something muskier, male in a way that made my pulse jump. Ethan squeezed between Kyle and Hal on the bench seat, his thighs pressed tight enough to theirs that I could see the goosebumps rising on his skin. John sat stiffly on Kyle's lap, , his fingers gripping the edge of the seat like he might bolt if the truck hit a bump wrong, and I sat on Devin’s lap, feeling strangely safer.
Hal drove with one hand on the wheel, the other elbow propped lazily out the window. "Y'all eat chilli?" he asked, like this was any casual dinner invitation.
"I'll eat you, Hal," Ethan said, "if you fuck me properly this time."
The cab erupted into laughter, Devin's low chuckle vibrating through the bench seat, Kyle's sharp bark of amusement cutting through the cicada drone outside. Hal just grinned, his fingers tightening on the wheel as gravel spat under the tyres. "Boy," he drawled, shooting Ethan a sidelong look, "you couldn't handle me proper if I came with instructions."
Ethan's smirk faltered when Devin's thigh pressed deliberately against his, the heat of it searing through the thin fabric of his jeans. "Bet I could," he muttered, but his voice cracked when Kyle's hand landed heavily on his knee, fingers spreading possessively.
"I'm only available for Hal, boys," Ethan declared. I'm going to fuck the brains out of him. John, Kyle's your boy and Steve, you already said how nice Devin is."
The pickup's tyres crunched over the gravel driveway, headlights sweeping across the sagging porch of Hal's farmhouse. The old homestead stood crooked against the pines like a drunk leaning on a lamppost, its peeling clapboard siding glowing amber in the dusk. Kyle's knee bounced against mine as Hal killed the engine, the sudden silence broken only by the creak of cooling metal and the distant hoot of an owl.
"Home sweet home," Hal announced, slapping the dashboard with a crack that made Ethan jump. The scent of woodsmoke and something richer, barbecue grease and male sweat, drifted through the open window as Devin shouldered his door open with a grunt.
Devin's grip on my wrist was firm but not unkind, his calloused fingers pressing just above the pulse point as he steered me away from the farmhouse's flickering porch light. The others disappeared inside with Hal's booming laughter trailing behind them, but Devin led me toward the shadow-draped barn instead, his boots crunching gravel in a rhythm that matched my hammering heartbeat.
"Sorry," he muttered, the word gruff but deliberate, as if he'd practised it. The moonlight caught the sharp angle of his jaw as he glanced down at me. "For earlier. In the woods," his thumb brushed my inner wrist, a fleeting apology in braille.
I blinked up at him. "You're apologising for what, exactly? The throat-fucking or the underpants theft?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Both," as he stopped beside the barn's weathered siding, the wood warm from the day's heat under my bare back when he pressed me against it. "But mostly for not asking first," his breath smelling like spearmint and something darker, nicotine maybe, as he leaned in. "I liked you, Steve, the first time I saw you in your tighty whities. That's why I didn't fuck you. You’re beautiful, and you looked so good in your tighty whities. I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen."
The admission hung between us, suspended like the dust in the barn's golden light spilling through the cracked door. Devin wasn't the type to say things he didn't mean; every word felt measured, like he was rationing them. My heart actually fluttered when I digested what he had said. Was this man in love with me? I wondered.
"Do you want to fuck me now?" I asked.
"Only if you want to, Steve and I don’t like that word particularly; it sort of sounds wrong," he said as he looked at my naked body, his fingers playing with my nipples.
"I get that, Devin, but this is only going to work if you get undressed this time instead of just lowering your pants," I responded, “and I'll ride you so I can keep an eye on you."
"What, don't trust me?" Devin asked.
"I do trust you this time, because you're different this time. It's just I like to watch the men who make love to me," I responded. “Besides, let’s be honest, your family isn’t running high in the trust factor from earlier.”
“Yeah, you could say,” Devin responded, looking thoroughly ashamed by his family.
“That’s not all you brought to this party, is it?”
“I don’t understand?” Devin replied.
"Honesty, and if I didn't know better, I would say you've also shaved and showered. You’ve brought a lovely smell to this party, you smell different, even nice this time," I pointed out.
Devin's chuckle was a low rumble against my ear, his clean-shaven face touching my temple as he leaned in. "Showered twice," he admitted, his breath warm and minty against my cheek. "Didn't want you thinking I was some backwoods hillbilly," as his fingers traced my collarbone, calloused but surprisingly gentle.
The barn door creaked behind us, revealing a hayloft strewn with fresh blankets and, I blinked, an actual mattress dragged into the centre. A single oil lamp cast flickering shadows across the planks, illuminating the careful setup. Devin cleared his throat, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Figured you deserved better than dirt and tree bark," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.
I stepped forward, the hay crunching underfoot, and ran my fingers over the neatly folded quilt. "You planned this," I said, turning to face him. Devin stood rigid by the doorway, moonlight etching the tension in his shoulders, his usual swagger gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.
"Maybe I did," he admitted, “I also told grandpa I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” his voice rough as his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for me but wasn't sure he should. The contrast from the woods was startling; this wasn't the domineering grandson who'd pinned me to a tree. This was someone who'd memorised how I looked, someone who'd subtly redirected his brother towards John because…
I closed the distance between us, pressing my palm flat against his chest as my cock responded as his heartbeat thudded under my fingers, rapid but steady. "Devin," I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.
Devin's hands hovered at my waist like he wasn't sure where to put them, this from the man who'd pinned me to a tree with one forearm hours earlier as his thumbs brushed my hipbones tentatively, mapping the jut of bone like he was memorising terrain.
"Don't overthink it," I murmured, pressing closer until my bare chest touched his shirt. "Just touch me. I want you to touch me. Explore me."
His breath hit my collarbone in a hot rush. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, as his fingers flexed against my ribs, callouses catching on skin. “I don’t normally get this far... with guys, that is. It’s always a quick fuck…without feeling.”
The oil lamp guttered, throwing shadows across the hay-strewn floor as I stepped back toward the mattress. Devin followed like a man pulled by an invisible tether, his gaze locked on mine with unsettling intensity.
“If we’re going to make love, I hope you brought some lube instead of relying on spit like the rest of your family?”
"Lube's in my back pocket," he admitted.
"Well, that's not very useful. Neither are your clothes. Maybe you should get undressed if you want to make love with me."
"You want to make love with me? No one's ever made love to me before. It's always sex with no feeling." Devin declared.
“You can’t fuck with feeling, can you? I asked, smiling at him and his nervous disposition. “If you’re feeling something, then make love to me.”
Devin froze at the word love, his fingers stuttering mid-air like a stalled engine. The oil lamp's flicker caught the sudden tension in his jaw, the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard. "Steve.., you’re beautiful…and…” he started, his voice rough as I put my finger to his lips.
“Shush,” I said as I stepped closer, pressing my palm flat over his heart. His shirt was soft under my fingers, worn thin from countless washes, and beneath it, his pulse hammered wild and uneven. "You don't have to say it back," I murmured, tracing the hollow of his collarbone through the fabric. "Just show me you care because I know you do," as I started to unbutton his shirt.
His breath hitched audibly, and for a long moment, he didn't move, then his hands came up to frame my face, calloused thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a tenderness that made my chest ache. "Christ," he muttered, barely audible, before his mouth found mine.
It wasn't like the woods. There was no claiming bite, no bruising grip. Just Devin's lips moving slowly against mine, tasting of spearmint and the faintest hint of tobacco, his fingers trembling where they cradled my jaw. When he finally pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, dark enough to drown in.
"Okay," he breathed, like he'd settled something with himself, and reached for the hem of his shirt.
Devin's shirt hit the hay-strewn floor with a soft rustle, revealing a torso mapped with old scars and sun-warmed muscle. The oil lamp flickered as he hesitated, his hands hovering over his belt buckle like a man unsure if he deserved the gift in front of him. I closed the distance between us, pressing my palm flat against the ridge of his hipbone. "You're overdressed," I murmured, hooking a finger through his belt loop.
His breath hitched when I tugged. The buckle gave way with a metallic snick, his jeans sliding down powerful thighs to pool around his boots, as he kicked them off with uncharacteristic clumsiness, nearly tripping over his own feet, and I bit back a laugh at the flush creeping up his neck.
The lamplight caught the thick line of his cock as he stepped free of the denim, already half-hard and curving toward his navel hidden behind his tighty whities. My mouth watered at the sight, the way his abs clenched when I reached for him, the way his hips jerked forward like they couldn't help it.
"Do I look okay?" Devin murmured as his voice cracked on the words, as I ran my fingers over the outline of his cock, feeling it rising to full hardness. His fingers tangled in my hair, not pushing, just holding, like he needed the anchor. "Steve... fuck..."
“You’d look better if I took them off,” I said. “Do you want me to take them off?”
Devin nodded as I dropped to my knees in the hay, pulling his tighty whities down, allowing his cock the freedom it desired. He groaned when I took him deep, his thighs trembling under my palms. The taste of him, salt and musk and something uniquely Devin, flooded my senses as I worked him with my tongue, revelling in the way his control unravelled with every pass of my mouth.
I released his cock from my mouth, looking up at him with a smile. "Why don't you lie down, Devin?" I suggested.
The hay prickled against Devin's bare back as he lowered himself onto the mattress, his muscles tensing as he might bolt at any second. I straddled his thighs, watching the lamplight dance across his chest, the flex of his pectorals with each breath, the hitch in his ribs when my fingers trailed down his stomach. The lube bottle popped open with a sound that made his nostrils flare.
"Easy," I murmured, pouring a slick stripe along his shaft from root to tip. His hips jerked off the mattress, hissing through clenched teeth as the cold gel hit overheated skin. I smeared it slowly, thumb circling the crown to catch the bead of moisture already pearling there, mixing it with the lube until he was glistening. Devin's hands fisted in the quilt beneath us, tendons standing stark in his forearms.
"You're killing me," he gritted out, his voice ragged.
I haven’t even started yet,” I stated as I rocked forward, letting my own arousal drag against his stomach as I reached behind myself. His eyes locked onto my fingers as I prepared, the flush on his neck deepening when I gasped at the first press inside. Devin's restraint snapped, his hands flew to my hips, calloused thumbs digging into the divots of my pelvis like he wanted to memorise the shape.
"Watch," I breathed, sinking onto him slowly. His groan punched out of him, raw and unfiltered, as his head tipped back into the hay. The stretch burned sweetly, his thickness filling me in ways the woods hadn't allowed time for. I braced my hands on his chest, fingertips skimming the coarse hair there as I rose almost completely off him before dropping back down.
Devin's fingers dug into my hips like he wanted to brand me with his fingerprints as I rode him in slow, deliberate strokes. The hay beneath us whispered secrets with every movement, the scent of crushed grass and Devin's sweat thick in the air. His eyes never left mine, dark and hungry, but softer now, less like a predator and more like a man drowning in something he couldn't name.
"You feel...,” as he swallowed hard, his throat working as I clenched around him on the downstroke. "Jesus, Steve."
I rolled my hips in a way that made his abs tense, his cock twitching inside me. The oil lamp flickered, casting shadows that danced across the sweat-slick planes of his chest. His hands moved up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my ribs like he was counting them, mapping me. There was reverence in his touch now, a stark contrast to the way he'd manhandled me against the tree hours earlier.
My pace built slowly, our breathing syncing, his breath hot against my collarbone where he'd pressed his forehead. I could feel the exact moment he stopped holding back, his hips lifting to meet mine, driving deeper on every thrust. His calloused palms slid up my back, pulling me down into a kiss that tasted like salt and desperation.
"You're beautiful like this," he murmured against my lips, the words rough, like they'd been dragged out of him as his fingers traced the knobs of my spine as I arched above him, the stretch and burn of him inside me turning liquid, molten. The quilt bunched beneath us, the hay sticking to our sweat-damp skin, but neither of us cared, not when Devin's breath hitched every time I rolled my hips just right, not when his thighs trembled under mine.
I continued to ride him slowly, savouring every inch of him inside me, the drag of his cock sparking pleasure so deep it bordered on pain. Devin's hands tightened on my hips, his fingers pressing bruises into my skin that I knew I'd trace later with secret satisfaction. The oil lamp's flickering light caught the sweat beading along his collarbones, the way his throat worked as he swallowed hard, and the way he watched me move above him with something like awe.
"If you keep looking at me like that," I murmured, rolling my hips in a slow circle that made his breath catch, "I might start believing you actually like me."
Devin's laugh was rough, unsteady. "Shut up," he growled, but his thumbs stroked gentle circles against my hipbones, betraying him. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath my palms, the coarse hair there tickling my fingers as I braced myself, rising almost completely off him before sinking back down with deliberate slowness.
The stretch burned deliciously, my body adjusting to his girth in ways it hadn't had time to in the woods. Devin's nostrils flared, his lips parting on a silent gasp as I clenched around him experimentally. The hay beneath us rustled as he shifted, his thighs flexing under mine, but he held himself still, letting me set the pace, control the depth, a far cry from the man who'd pinned me against a tree without hesitation hours earlier for just a blowjob.
"Fuck, Steve," he breathed when I rocked forward, grinding against him, the new angle brushing his cock against that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His hands slid up my torso, calloused palms rasping over my ribs before cupping my pecs, thumbs brushing my nipples in a way that had me gasping. "You take me so carefully."
Devin's fingers dug into my thighs as I rocked against him in slow, deliberate strokes, the drag of his cock inside me sending sparks up my spine with every movement. "I enjoy fucking slowly," I murmured, watching his pupils blow wider at my words, "building up until you know exactly where every inch of me is inside you," as his breath hitched when I clenched around him, the muscles in his forearms standing taut as he fought the urge to buck up into me.
The oil lamp's glow painted sweat-slick ridges along his abdomen as I lifted myself almost completely off him, pausing just before he could slip free. Devin made a sound low in his throat, his hips twitching upward instinctively, only for me to sink back down with aching slowness, taking him deeper than before. His hands flew to my waist, blunt nails scoring half-moons into my skin as he choked out, "Christ, Steve..."
"Shh." I pressed a finger to his lips, feeling them part beneath my touch. "I want you to memorise this," as my next roll of hips was even slower, the stretch bordering on unbearable as I worked him deeper, his cock nudging against that spot inside me that made my vision blur. Devin's chest heaved beneath me, his breath coming in ragged bursts as I controlled the pace, the depth, the sheer intensity of every millimetre of connection between us.
His fingers trembled where they gripped my hips, calluses catching against sweat-damp skin. The hay beneath us rustled as he shifted, his thighs flexing under my thighs, but he held himself still, letting me set the pace, letting me take what I needed. The surrender in his body language was staggering, this from the man who'd pinned me against a tree, hours earlier, without hesitation.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on either side of his head, our chests brushing with each shallow breath. Devin's eyes locked onto mine, dark and fathomless in the flickering light, his lips parted around unspoken words. When I rocked back again, his cock dragging against my walls in a way that made us both gasp, his hands flew up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a tenderness that burned hotter than any bite mark he'd left before.
I edged him closer as my own climax built, each slow roll of my hips drawing out his ragged gasps until Devin's fingers dug into my thighs hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. His cock twitched inside me, thick and insistent, his breath hitching every time I clenched around him just to watch his pupils blow wider. The oil lamp flickered, casting shifting shadows across the sweat-sheened planes of his chest as I leaned forward, letting my lips brush the shell of his ear. "You gonna come for me?" I murmured, punctuating the question with a deliberate grind that had his hips jerking off the mattress.
Devin's reply was a choked-off groan, his hands flying up to grip my waist as if to steady himself. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the lamplight. "Not... not yet," he gritted out, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. I smirked, rocking forward just enough to tease the head of his cock against that sweet spot inside me before pulling back, denying us both.
His fingernails scraped down my back in retaliation, the sting mingling deliciously with the ache of being stretched around him. "Fucking tease," he growled, but there was no bite to it, just raw, unfiltered need. I laughed breathlessly, catching his lower lip between my teeth as I sank onto him again, this time with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Devin's hands spasmed against my hips, his control fraying at the edges with every measured stroke.
The hay prickled against my knees as I adjusted my angle, letting him slide even deeper. Devin's head thumped back against the quilt, his neck tendons standing stark as he fought to keep his eyes open, to keep watching me. "Steve..." as his voice cracked on my name, rough with desperation.
I hummed in response, dragging my nails down his chest just to feel him shudder as his cock pulsed inside me, hot and insistent, but he held on, jaw clenched tight enough that I could see the muscle ticking.
The air between us grew thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the only sounds our mingled breathing and the occasional rustle of hay. I braced my hands against his pectorals, fingertips tracing the coarse hair there as I rode him in slow, sinuous waves. Devin's abdomen flexed beneath me, his muscles taut as bowstrings, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. When I reached between us to stroke myself in time with his thrusts, his control finally snapped.
Devin's orgasm hit like a fault line shifting, his hips jerked off the mattress with enough force to send hay flying, his cock pulsing deep inside me as his back arched in one long, shuddering line. The groan that tore from his throat was raw, unfiltered, his fingers clamping around my thighs hard enough to leave bruises I'd savour tomorrow, as heat flooded me in thick pulses, his release triggering my own climax with shocking immediacy, my vision whiting out as pleasure detonated up my spine, my cock spurting between us in hot stripes across his abdomen.
For three endless seconds, we were nothing but sensation as we pumped our bodily fluid. Devin's ragged breaths against my collarbone, the twitch of his oversensitive cock still buried inside me, the way his hands trembled where they gripped my hips like I was the only thing tethering him to earth.
As I continued to feel his flow, my hand kept massaging my shaft, forcing more cum to pump onto his chest and stomach, thick creamy ropes of cum landing all over him, suggesting I hadn't experienced a release in a couple of days.
When I finally slumped forward, my elbows bracketing his head, Devin made a punched-out sound beneath me. His hands slid up my sweat-slick back, blunt nails scraping lightly as if checking I was real. "Jesus," he croaked, his voice wrecked, his Adam's apple bobbing against my lips as I pressed them to his throat. I could feel his pulse hammering there, erratic as a trapped bird's.
We stayed like that for long minutes, sticky and spent, the cooling coming between us forgotten as Devin's fingers traced idle patterns along my spine as his other hand came up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair with surprising gentleness. The hay prickled against my knees, the scent of sex and sweat and crushed grass thick in the air, but neither of us moved, too aware of the fragile thing hovering between us in the lamplight.
Devin was the first to break the silence. "Steve," he murmured, his voice rough with something that wasn't just post-coital haze as his thumb brushed the hinge of my jaw, the touch feather-light. When I lifted my head to meet his gaze, his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, the pupils blown wide enough to swallow the amber flecks whole.
"I wonder what's happening in the house?" Devin whispered.
"Don't care. We're here, and that's all that matters. I knew you were different when you didn't want to fuck me earlier," I said.
"Sometimes," Devin started, "I don't like what grandpa does when he finds trespassers. I get he has a thing for tighty whities, but fucking those he meets is nothing more than raping them, but it's the only way he gets his rocks off since grandma passed away, and..."
Devin paused, taking a deep breath. "Kyle likes to fuck boys as well as girls. I only demand a blowjob to satisfy them both, but I do like to watch, and so far, we've never had trouble, and most guys just resign themselves to agreeing, tighty whities for sex, and then they can go."
I rolled off Devin to lie next to him, my fingers playing with the cum on his chest. "It is rape, Devin, whatever way you describe it. Your family rape innocent men, but what I don’t get is why you came to find us after...dark?"
Devin's fingers twitched against my ribs where they'd been tracing idle circles. The oil lamp guttered, casting shadows that made his expression unreadable for a moment before he sighed. "Grandpa hasn't kept anyone overnight since Grandma died," he said quietly, his thumb brushing a streak of cum across his sternum like he was grounding himself. "Not like this. This is different. You were all different. I told you why I came back to find you, but Kyle and Grandpa had similar reasons."
I propped myself up on one elbow, studying the way his throat worked as he swallowed. "Ethan?" I asked.
"Yes, Ethan, grandpa really liked him as if…"
Devin's chuckle was rough but fond as he continued. "The way he kept adjusting his body as... Grandpa fucked him. Ethan was enjoying him fucking him, and when Ethan sassed him about not being deep enough, it was obvious he pushed back against grandpa taking him deeper."
He shook his head, hay rustling beneath him. "Kyle thought it was just another rough fuck, but Grandpa.., as he got that look and feeling from Ethan..."
Pausing to catch his breath, Devin turned his head toward me, the lamplight catching the unexpected softness around his eyes. "... the same look he'd get when Grandma took him deep."
The barn's wooden beams creaked above us as I processed this. Ethan's dark humour and sarcastic defiance had always been his armour. I'd seen it deflect everything from homophobic uncles to college deans, but now, it's appeared he'd weaponised it into flirtation and desire. That was something new from my friend.
“As for Kyle, he mentioned to me that there was something about your mate that turned him on. His power and presence, and his pushing back, almost demanding to be taken roughly. It really got to Kyle.”
“That’s interesting,” I said, “because John likes to be spanked and I think he’s into power games with masters and slave roleplay. He gets turned on, I think, but I’ve never seen him do anything about it.”
Devin's fingers found mine where they'd still been idly painting his abdomen with drying cum. "They're probably in the main bedroom right now," he murmured. "Grandpa actually put fresh sheets on in preparation," his tone implying this was akin to the Second Coming.
"What about Kyle? What do you think they’re up to?” I ask, my curiosity killing me.
Devin's chuckle was dark, his fingers stilling where they'd been tracing patterns in the drying cum on his chest. "Kyle? Oh, he's got your boy John bent over the old milking stool in the tack room right now, no doubt." The oil lamp flickered across his smirk as he turned his head toward me. "See, my brother's got this thing—he likes 'em feisty. The way John kept snarling at him in the woods? That shit lit Kyle up like a fucking Christmas tree as I said, and if John played the game you suggested, Kyle would probably thrash him."
I blinked at the sudden image, John's sharp tongue and sharper elbows meeting Kyle's brute strength, and Devin laughed outright at my expression. "Bet you twenty bucks Kyle's stripped down to his tighty whities," he continued, shifting onto his side to face me fully. "And knowing my brother, got John over his knee by now. Kyle loves that shit... spanking a guy until he's squirming for it, until he's begging to be fucked. Kyle will probably expect the words, I submit. It’s a game for Kyle."
The hay rustled as Devin propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand gesturing emphatically. "Hopefully, John'll be all teeth and snark at first, calling Kyle every name in the book while his ass turns pink. But then..,” pausing as his grin turned predatory. "Then Kyle'll start hitting that ass just right, and your boy's gonna start arching into it instead of away. That's when Kyle will push him onto his back and... well, your boy will take it."
A sharp cry cut through the night from somewhere beyond the barn walls, unmistakably John's voice, high and ragged, followed by the heavy thump of something hitting wood. Devin's eyebrows shot up. "Huh. Sounded like your boy just kicked over the bucket," his grin widening. "Told you."
I sat up abruptly, hay sticking to my sweat-damp skin. "We should..."
"Better if we don't. Let them work it out," Devin responded as his finger played with my flaccid cock.
The sudden crash from outside the barn was followed by a string of curses so creative it would've made a sailor blush, definitely John's voice, though the breathless hitch between insults was new. Devin snorted, rolling onto his back with his arms folded behind his head, the picture of mug contentment. "Told you," he repeated, grinning at the rafters as another thud shook the barn walls. "Bet you twenty bucks Kyle's got him pinned against the feed bins now."
I swiped a handful of hay and dumped it on his chest, watching the golden strands stick to the drying cum. "You're enjoying this too much."
"I'm enjoying being with you, too much," Devin responded, his fingers tracing idle patterns through the hay stuck to his cum-streaked chest. The oil lamp's glow softened the hard lines of his face, catching the unguarded curve of his lips. "I like it in here with you."
The admission hung between us, fragile as the dust motes swirling in the lamplight. Devin's thumb brushed my nipple absentmindedly, the calloused pad rasping in a way that made my breath catch. Outside, the cicadas had started their nightly chorus, a rhythmic backdrop to John's muffled swearing from the tack room, though the curses had lost their earlier venom, dissolving into breathless gasps that told their own story.
Devin's palm settled warm over my sternum, pressing gently as if to feel my heartbeat. "You're different," he murmured, more to himself than me. "The way you..,” as his fingers flexed against my skin, searching for words. "You don't just take. You give."
Another thud from outside punctuated the silence, followed by Kyle's gruff chuckle and John's bitten-off moan. Devin's lips quirked, but his attention never wavered from my face. The hay rustled as he shifted closer, his thigh brushing mine, still sticky with drying sweat and cum.
"I should hate this," I admitted, catching his wrist before his fingers could distract me further. "The way we met. What your grandfather did. What you did."
Devin's pulse jumped under my fingertips, but he didn't pull away. "But when you pinned me against that tree...,” pausing to think carefully, watching Devin's throat work as he swallowed hard, "…part of me wanted it,” as his fingers twitched against mine, his pupils dilating in the flickering lamplight. "Wanted... you."
Devin exhaled sharply through his nose, his free hand coming up to cradle my jaw. His thumb brushed my lower lip, rough with calluses from farm work, yet impossibly gentle. "I know," he murmured, the confession raw. "That's what fucked me up after and made me feel so guilty and worried about you walking back to your campsite."
"Want some more therapy?" I chuckled.
"Wouldn't say no to more therapy as you call it," Devin replied, his whole face smiling with desire.
Devin's fingers tightened against my jaw, his exhale hot against my lips. "Take me," I murmured, watching his pupils dilate. "However you like."
For a heartbeat, he froze, then his grip turned bruising, flipping me onto my stomach with a growl that vibrated through my ribs. Hay prickled my cheek as he yanked my hips up, his knee forcing my thighs apart. The oil lamp guttered when his palm landed sharply against my ass, the sting blooming into heat.
"Like this?" he rasped, dragging his cock through my crease, the head catching at my entrance, slick with leftover lube and cum as his breath hitched when I arched back into it. "Fuck, Steve... you’re…" as he managed to slip in.
"Deeper," I demanded, and Devin's groan shook through both of us as he obeyed, sheathing himself to the hilt in one gentle but hard thrust.
Hay scattered as he pinned my wrists, his hips thrusting in a pace that erased thought. Each snap forward punched the air from my lungs, his pelvis slapping against my flesh. The distant sounds outside faded beneath Devin's ragged curses, the wet slap of skin on skin, his balls punishing my ass as much as his cock, as he drove into me like he wanted to brand himself inside my body.
Devin's thrusts remained tender even as his pace deepened, each measured stroke a contradiction, the force of his hips driving me into the mattress while his hands gentled along my spine, his fingertips tracing the knobs of my vertebrae like he was counting them as his breath hitched against the back of my neck, warm and uneven, as he rocked into me with a rhythm that felt less like claiming and more like worship.
"Steve..,” as he cried out, his voice cracking on my name, rough with something that wasn't just exertion as his palm slid up to cradle the base of my skull, fingers tangling in my hair as his other hand splayed across my hipbone, holding me steady while his cock nudged that spot inside me that made my vision blur.
"Fuck, you feel..." unable to finish what he was saying, as he buried his face between my shoulder blades and groaned, his hips stuttering mid-thrust.
I arched back into him, pushing until his pelvis ground against my ass, until I could feel the wiry brush of his pubic hair against my skin. Devin shuddered, his thighs trembling against the backs of mine, his grip on my hip tightening like he was afraid I'd vanish if he loosened it.
When his fingers found mine, threading through them and pinning our clasped hands to the mattress beside my head, something in my chest tightened. His thrusts slowed further, becoming almost tentative, as if he was afraid of breaking whatever fragile thing had sprung up between us in the lamplight.
His lips brushed my shoulder blade, once, twice, before he murmured, "Okay?" against my skin, the word barely audible over our ragged breathing.
I turned my head enough to catch his eye over my shoulder, to see the way the flickering light caught the amber flecks in his dark irises. "Yeah," I breathed, squeezing his fingers. "Just like that, keep going."
Devin's climax built differently this time, no sharp fracture of control, no brutal snap of hips. Just a slow, shuddering unravelling that started in his toes and travelled up through his trembling thighs, his cock pulsing deep inside me in waves that matched the unsteady rhythm of his breathing against my spine. Warmth flooded me in thick pulses, his release triggering my own with unexpected gentleness, pleasure unfurling like ink in water until my vision blurred at the edges.
"Jesus," Devin rasped, his forehead pressing between my shoulder blades as he stilled, hips flush against my ass as his fingers flexed around mine where they were pinned to the mattress, his callouses catching on my knuckles. "Fuck, Steve..."
I could feel his heartbeat where we were joined, the rapid flutter of it against my walls as his cock twitched weakly inside me, still spilling creamy liquid with every spurt as his breath felt hot and damp against my skin, his chest heaving against my back in uneven bursts.
The oil lamp's glow traced the sweat-slicked curve of his spine as he slumped forward slightly, his weight a comforting press, forcing me to take his weight.
The distant creak of the farmhouse's screen door snapped through the post-coital haze like a tripwire. Devin went rigid against my back, his breath stalling mid-exhale against my shoulder blade. His fingers tightened around mine where they were still pinned to the mattress, protective, possessive, as heavy footsteps crossed the porch outside.
"Shit," Devin muttered, his lips moving against my skin. His hips shifted minutely, still buried inside me, as if debating whether to pull away or press closer. "That's Grandpa's boots."
The footsteps paused at the barn door, then Hal's voice, amused and knowing: "You boys decent in there?"
Devin's entire body tensed against mine, his cock twitching inside me as we both froze. The oil lamp flickered wildly as Hal's boots scraped against the barn's threshold, his shadow stretching long across the hay-strewn floor.
"Not particularly," I called back, grinning when Devin choked on air above me. His fingers dug into my hip hard enough to bruise, whether in warning or arousal, I couldn't tell.
Hal's laughter rumbled through the barn like distant thunder, the sound warm with indulgence. "Figured as much," he drawled, his shadow shifting as he leaned against the doorframe. Devin exhaled sharply against the back of my neck, his cock still buried inside me, twitching at the intrusion of his grandfather's voice. "Supper's ready when you are," Hal continued, the smirk audible in his tone. "Though from the sound of it, you boys found your own menu."
The barn door creaked shut with deliberate slowness, Hal's retreating footsteps muffled by straw. Devin stayed frozen above me for three heartbeats before his forehead thudded against my shoulder blade with a groan. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, the words puffing hot against my sweat-damp skin as his hips shifted minutely, still seated deep inside me, as if unsure whether to withdraw or thrust.
"We'd better go, Devin declared, "and I need a piss before dinner.
"Sharing is caring, you know. Piss here if you want," I suggested as I opened my mouth.
Devin's smirk curled against my shoulder blade, his teeth grazing the sweat-damp skin there as he slowly pulled out. "Might start here first," he murmured, his palm sliding up my spine with possessive warmth. "Time to clean up," as his fingers traced the curve of my ass before delivering a sharp smack that sent hay prickling against my belly. "Changed my mind, turn over."
I rolled onto my back, watching the oil lamp's glow catch the flex of Devin's thighs as he knelt between my legs, his cock layinglying heavily against his thigh, still glistening with our mingled fluids as his fingers circled my wrist, guiding my hand to his hip as his other palm pressed against my sternum. "Stay," he ordered, though his thumb stroked my pulse point like an apology.
The hay rustled as Devin shifted backward, his calloused palms skating down my thighs with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched when his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind my knees, his gaze locked on mine as he spread me wider. "You did say sharing is caring," he reminded me, his voice reflected an element of amusement.
The hay rustled as Devin shifted backwards, his calloused palms skating down my thighs with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched when his fingers brushed the sensitive skin behind my knees, his gaze locked on mine as he spread me wider. "You did say sharing is caring," he reminded me, his voice reflecting an element of amusement.
The first hot splash hit my lower abdomen, drawing a startled gasp from my lips as Devin's piss painted my skin in steaming stripes. His free hand pinned my hip to the mattress, fingers digging into the bruise he'd left earlier as the stream intensified, washing away the dried cum in golden rivulets that pooled in the hollow of my pelvis.
The stream arched higher without warning, hot and insistent against my chin before splashing across my lips. I gasped, more from the suddenness than the act itself, as Devin's thumb directed his cock’s flow towards my mouth, which remained open while his piss pattered against my tongue in salty, bitter bursts. His free hand tightened on my hip, blunt nails scoring crescents into skin already marked by earlier grips as the flow intensified, flooding my mouth faster than I could swallow.
"Look at you," Devin rasped, his voice gone gravel-deep as he adjusted his angle, sending the stream splashing across my cheekbones, into my eyelashes. The oil lamp's glow caught every droplet like liquid amber, painting my face in gleaming streaks that dripped down my temples to soak the hay beneath us. His cock twitched visibly in his hand, half-hard again despite his recent release, as he watched me blink piss from my stinging eyes.
I coughed when the stream hit the back of my throat, my fingers clenching in the quilt as Devin's thumb stroked my lower lip, smearing the overflow down my chin. His breathing had gone uneven, his abdomen flexing with each shallow pant as he directed the flow up my nose, laughing darkly when I jerked away only for his grip on my hair to drag me back into the warm spray, which I was now drinking with urgent demands for more.
The barn door creaked open again, the sound doing nothing to stop my enjoyment as Devin didn't stop pissing.
If anything, his stream intensified as I drank more until he splashed across my collarbones as Kyle's naked shadow fell across us. "Jesus fucking Christ," Kyle drawled, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed. Behind him, John's dishevelled naked silhouette paused mid-step, his swollen lips parting at the sight of me dripping beneath Devin's steady flow.
"You boys coming to supper or what?" Kyle continued, unfazed as Devin's piss pattered against my sternum. "Grandpa made chilli."
Devin finally finished with a shudder, his cock dripping the last few drops onto my tongue as his palm smoothed up my piss-slick chest, smearing the moisture into my skin like some perverse anointing as he met Kyle's gaze. "We'll be there," he said, his voice roughening slightly to the intrusion.
John snorted from the doorway, his usual sharpness softened by the fresh bite marks peeking above his collar. "Looks like Steve already had his fill," he quipped, though his eyes lingered on the way Devin's fingers traced my wet lips.
I blinked twice, once for disbelief, twice for confirmation, as John stepped fully into the lamplight. The harness wasn't just leather; it was worked leather, the kind that whispered of careful measurement and knowing hands. The collar sat snug around his throat, just loose enough to let him swallow but tight enough to leave no question of ownership. Kyle's… clearly. The waist strap cinched John's narrow hips in a way that made his waist look even leaner, the front ring encircling his flaccid cock with an almost reverent precision.
I then noticed his wrists cuffed, both attached with chains hanging from the belt, either side of his hips and his ankles, equally shackled with chains attached to the same belt. It was an impressive look, I had to admit, albeit, silently.
"Like what you see?" John drawled, but the usual bite in his voice was dulled by the way his fingers kept brushing the collar's edge, not to adjust it, but to feel it. Like he needed the reminder, it was real.
Kyle stood behind him, totally naked and grinning like a cat as his palm settled heavy between John's shoulder blades, proprietary and proud. "Found Grandma's old tack box," he said by way of explanation, fingers tracing the harness straps down John's spine. "Figured it'd fit better than rope."
I could see it did more than fit. The leather gleamed against John's pale skin like it had been waiting for him, the oiled straps catching the lamplight in a way that made every breath John took into a spectacle. The front ring shifted minutely when Kyle tugged the lead strap, attached to the waist harness, not the collar, and John's sharp inhale wasn't protest. It was anticipation.
Kyle's grip tightened on the lead strap, jerking John forward until their noses almost touched. "Turn," he ordered, voice rough with command, and something in John's spine stiffened, not refusal, but that old defiance flaring hot beneath the leather's grip.
John's smirk was all teeth as he pivoted, presenting his ass to Devin with deliberate slowness, the harness straps pulling taut across his shoulder blades. The lamplight caught the welts Kyle had left earlier, angry red streaks crisscrossing pale skin, but it was the way John arched his back that punched the air from Devin's lungs, like he'd been waiting his whole life to be displayed like this.
"See?" Kyle's knuckles trailed down John's spine, coming to rest just above the cleft of his ass. "Needed the harness for this one," as his grin was all sharp edges, as he tapped the small metal ring at the base of the straps. "HedHad to break him, but he eventually submitted to me.”
Kyle's grin widened as he tugged the lead strap, making the leather creak against John's collarbones. "Took twelve swats of the leather whip before he quit squirming," he said, his thumb brushing a fresh welt along John's ribs. "By fifteen, he was arching into it like a fucking slave should, having been tamed like a pony."
By twenty, the boy wasn't just begging, he was unravelling. And God, did he surrender to me. His harness straps bit into his shoulders with every thrust as I took him from behind, the leather singing taut as I yanked him backwardbackwards onto my cock, the metal rings clinking obscenely as his sweat trickled down his spine."
John's laugh was ragged, almost delirious, as he twisted to glare over his shoulder. "Go to hell, you fucking kid. You don't fuck like a man should. Proper men know how to get me going."
John's smirk was downright sinful as he rolled his shoulders, making the harness straps creak against his sweat-slicked skin. "The problem is, farmboy?" he taunted, arching his back just enough to make the welts on his ass catch the lamplight, fresh marks still angry red against his pale skin. "You fuck like a farm boy. Not like a man. I’ve hard harder from a dildo up my ass."
Kyle's jaw clenched audibly, his fingers twitching toward the lead strap like he wanted to yank John backward onto his cock right there in the barn doorway. "Keep talking," Kyle growled, stepping close enough for John to feel the heat radiating off his naked body. "See what it gets you."
Kyle's jaw clenched audibly, his fingers twitching toward the lead strap like he wanted to yank John backwards onto his cock right there in the barn doorway. "Keep talking," Kyle growled, stepping close enough for John to feel the heat radiating off his naked body. "See what it gets you."
John's grin widened as he reached back blindly, fingers skimming the hard line of Kyle's thigh before dipping deliberately between, finding him half-hard already. "Aw," he crooned, thumb rubbing slow circles just beneath Kyle's balls, "someone's eager to fuck like a farmboy again," as the harness's metal rings jingled as Kyle grabbed John's wrist hard enough to bruise, slamming it back against the doorframe.
"You're playing with fire, city boy," Kyle hissed, his free hand fisting in the lead strap so tight the leather groaned as he kissed John aggressively. "I've broken you once,; I can do it again, anytime."
"Bring it on, farmboy, bring it on," John demanded.
I was impressed with John's taunting of Kyle, knowing that when I spanked him, he enjoyed and embraced the submission. Kyle has no idea how much John might be able to take, I said to myself, wondering if John would be able to take a second bout of whatever had made those welts on his ass.
Devin's piss cooled on my skin as he hauled me upright, the night air raising gooseflesh along my spine where his palm lingered on my back, enjoying the fact that we were naked and not embarrassed.
Kyle's harness leather creaked as he jerked John forward by the lead strap, his nudity stunning, the creaking leather sounding obscenely loud in the sudden quiet between us. John stumbled, just once, before catching himself with a sharp breath that wasn't quite pain, his fingers brushing the welted skin above the waist strap like a man checking his wallet after a pickpocket's brush.
"Move," Kyle ordered, his voice roughened by the hours spent growling threats into John's sweat-damp hair. John arched one eyebrow but stepped forward, the lamplight catching the way his throat worked beneath the collar as he swallowed, testing its limits, savouring its grip as we all walked to the farmhouse.
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