Snowed In, Stripped Down – Part 5 (Patreon)

Hey everyone! I hope you're all well. I wanted to wrap up this little gem of a story. I started it roughly a year ago. Many of you wanted to hear what became of Cass and Benson. I intended to do a little follow-up but never got to it, until now. Better late than never.

I do recommend reading the first 4 parts if you haven't read them yet. It's a quick read.

Final part dropping tomorrow.

Also, wanted to wish you all a Happy Easter!

/Blake

Everyone in this story is 18+

It had been exactly one year since that godforsaken blizzard had stranded us in the old shack, and on the surface, Cass and I were still the same.

We texted every day like nothing had changed. We hit the gym together three times a week, still competing over who could lift heavier or run faster on the treadmill. We bitched about life, mocked each other’s terrible dating choices (even though neither of us had brought anyone serious around in months), and showed up to family barbecues acting like the closest of brothers. To everyone else, we were Benson and Cass, best friends, friendly rivals, the duo that had been inseparable since high school.

But I knew the truth. And I was pretty sure Cass did too.

There had been several hookups since that first night. All of them fueled by too much alcohol, all of them wordless and frantic, like we were both terrified that speaking would make it real. A sloppy blowjob in a hotel bathroom after a party. A quick, desperate fuck in the back of his SUV with the windows fogged up.

Once, we’d barely made it through his apartment door before he had me bent over the couch, both of us still half-dressed and breathing like we’d run a marathon. Each time, the morning after brought the same routine: awkward small talk, a joke about being horny idiots, and then radio silence on the topic until the next time one of us got drunk enough to reach for the other.

I hated it. The pretending. The way my chest tightened every time he called me “Bensy” with that cocky grin, like it was still just a tease and not something that now made heat pool low in my stomach. The way I’d lie awake after he left, replaying the feel of his hands on my hips, the way he’d groan my name like it hurt him to hold back. I was straight, or at least I’d always told myself I was, until that freezing night when curiosity and survival and raw need had cracked me wide open. Now I didn’t know what the hell I was, except tired of dancing around whatever this had become.

So when Cass suggested we head back to his dad’s luxury cabin for a long weekend ski trip “for old times’ sake,” I agreed without hesitation. Maybe the familiar setting would force us to finally talk. Or maybe we’d just fall into the same pattern again. Either way, I couldn’t keep living in this gray area.

The drive up was comfortable on the outside, windows down, Cass blasting his usual mix of old rap and terrible pop while I roasted his playlist choices. But underneath, my nerves persisted. Snow had started falling halfway there, fat lazy flakes drifting across the windshield like a gentle warning. When we pulled up to the massive modern cabin with its floor-to-ceiling windows and sleek stone fireplace, Cass killed the engine and shot me that signature smirk.

“Looks like the universe is feeling nostalgic,” he said, nodding at the thickening snow outside.

I snorted, grabbing my bag from the back. “As long as the power stays on and there’s actual food in the fridge this time, I’m good. No more cooking oil lube emergencies.”

He laughed, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something warmer, heavier that made my pulse skip.

Inside, everything felt like always. The thermostat kicked on instantly, flooding the open living area with blessed heat. We unpacked, ordered way too much Thai food, and cracked open beers while we sprawled on the oversized sectional in front of the fireplace.

The flames crackled softly, casting golden light across Cass’s face as he stretched out, one long leg draped casually over mine. We talked about nothing important at first, his latest argument with his dad’s assistant, my mom’s latest attempt to set me up with her friend’s daughter, the upcoming exams we were both dreading. The banter flowed easy, like always.

But as the beers disappeared and the snow piled up silently outside, the conversation shifted.

Cass took a long pull from his bottle, eyes on the fire. “Crazy how fast a year goes by. Remember last time? We thought we were actually fucked. Freezing our asses off, sharing one tiny bed…”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my thumb tracing the label on my beer. “I remember.” I remembered everything, the way his body heat had felt against my back, the thick press of him in my hand that first morning, the desperate ride in the dark with nothing but lantern light and oil. The way he’d filled me up and then held me after like it was the most natural thing in the world. My cock twitched at the memory.

Cass turned his head, brown eyes darker in the firelight. “Best night of my life, honestly. Even if you tried to play it off like it was just hypothermia prevention.”

My throat tightened. There it was, the crack in the armor. I wanted to push, to finally ask what the hell we were doing with all these silent hookups. Instead, I set my beer down and leaned in, closing the distance before I could talk myself out of it.

Our mouths met slow at first, like we were both testing if this still felt the same sober-ish. Then Cass made that low sound in his throat, the one that always unraveled me and the kiss deepened. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me closer. I tasted beer and the faint spice from dinner on his tongue, felt the scrape of stubble against my jaw.

Clothes came off without urgency this time. No frantic fumbling like the drunk nights. We stripped each other between kisses, hands exploring like we had all the time in the world. Cass’s broad chest, the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach, the way his cock came free, already leaking. I knew every inch of him now, but touching him still sent a rush through me that no girl had ever matched.

He guided me down onto the sectional, the soft throw blanket bunching under us as he settled between my thighs. His mouth trailed hot, open kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, lower until he was licking a slow stripe up my cock. I groaned, hips jerking, fingers tightening in his dark hair. He took his time, sucking my cok deep while one slick finger circled my hole, pressing in with practiced ease. The stretch burned sweetly, now after a year of stolen moments.

When he finally pushed inside my hole, it was with that same delicious thickness that always made my breath hitch. He went slow, letting me feel every inch as he went balls deep, his forehead pressed to mine. “Fuck, Bensy,” he whispered against my lips, voice rough. “You always feel so goddamn good.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and we moved together in a rhythm that felt less like fucking and more like something I was scared to name. His hand stroked me in time with his thrusts, thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke. The fire warmed our skin, sweat slicking between us as the pace built.

I nutted first, hosing over his fist with a choked moan, my body clenching tight around his hardness in my ass.

Cass followed moments later, burying himself deep as he said my name, hips stuttering through the aftershocks.

We snuggled after, his arm heavy around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck. Just like that first night. His softening cock was still nestled against my ass, his cum slowly leaking out of me, and for a while it felt perfect, comfortable, safe, almost too right.

But as the fire burned lower and Cass’s breathing evened out into sleep, I lay there wide awake, staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling.

A year of this. A year of taking what we could get in the dark and pretending in the light. My chest ached with how much I wanted more, real talk, real labels, something that didn’t end with one of us slipping away before sunrise.

Tomorrow morning, I decided, the silence ended. No more dancing around it. No more excuses.

Whether Cass was ready or not, we were finally talking.