Hardwood Creek 🏨 | Part 7: Simon's Place (Patreon)

All characters are 18+ and this story is entirely fictional.Everything that happens is safe, sane, and consensual.

The door clicked shut behind us with a soft finality. Simon’s place was nothing like I expected… it was neat, modern and warm. The kind of space that looked lived in without being messy. A soft amber glow came from a lamp near the corner, throwing light across smooth wood floors and dark furniture. Everything smelled faintly of cedar and something clean, masculine.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Simon said, slipping off his shoes and tossing his keys over a desk. He moved with that same calm control he’d had all night, only now it felt heavier; like every motion carried intent. He walked to the counter, poured amber liquid into two glasses, and handed one to me without asking what I wanted.

“Whiskey,” he said, watching me take it. “You strike me as someone who appreciates something with a little burn.”

I laughed, the glass cool against my palm. “That obvious?”

“Only to people who pay attention.” He leaned back against the counter, one elbow resting casually, but his gaze didn’t waver. The faint smirk on his lips gave away the edge beneath that gentleman exterior. “You look good tonight, Julian.”

The words were low, simple but something about the way he said my name made it feel heavier, loaded. I tried to play it off with a sip of whiskey, the warmth crawling down my throat, but it didn’t help. The air between us was thick, humming, electric.

“So do you,” I said, and meant it. Gone were the glasses, the quiet professor look. His hair was styled just enough to look like he hadn’t tried too hard, the black polo hugging his shoulders in ways that made my pulse quicken. Everything about him screamed effortless control.

He smiled at that, slow, deliberate, and took a step closer. “That’s dangerous,” he said quietly.

“What is?”

“Flattering me like that. I might start believing it.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. “Maybe you should.”

He set his glass down and stepped forward again. The distance between us dissolved…first three feet, then two, then one. My breath caught. He reached out, fingertips brushing the inside of my forearm, the lightest contact, but it was enough to send a rush of heat straight through me.

I swallowed, trying to think of something clever to say, but my brain chose that exact moment to betray me. Ethan. Just for a second; his smirk, the wild, rough hands, the dirt under his nails, the smell of hay and sweat and summer heat.

Simon was the opposite of that. Polished. Composed. A man who didn’t need to take control…he just had it. And for some reason, that contrast made me want him even more.

“Something on your mind?” Simon’s voice broke through, soft but edged.

I blinked, forcing the thought away. “No,” I said, too quickly. “Just… you’re standing really close.”

He smiled, that patient, devastating smile. “You could ask me to step back.”

“I could,” I said quietly. “But I won’t.”

The silence stretched, taut and dangerous. Then he reached up, thumb tracing the edge of my jaw, eyes flicking to my mouth before settling back on mine. “Good,” he murmured.

The kiss wasn’t rushed…it was measured. His lips brushed mine once, testing, then again, firmer this time. I felt it all at once; the warmth of his breath, the faint taste of whiskey, the heat that started in my chest and sank lower, fast.

When he deepened the kiss, something in me broke open. His hand slid behind my neck, pulling me closer, and my fingers found his shirt, clutching the fabric. The kiss grew hungrier…soft at first, then deliberate, then needy.

He pressed me back against the counter, the cool marble biting against my lower back as his body closed in. My pulse raced. His hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my skin, tracing the lines of my stomach. I gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed between us.

“Julian,” he breathed, lips against my jaw now, voice rougher than I’d ever heard it. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night. ”

His words made my knees weak. “Then don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His mouth moved down my neck, slow, dragging heat across my skin. His fingers tugged my shirt higher, revealing inch after inch until I raised my arms and let him pull it off completely. He stepped back half a pace, eyes traveling down my chest, then up again, like he was savoring it.

“Beautiful,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it.

My breath hitched. “You’re good at this.”

“I like taking my time,” he said, and the way his voice dropped made my cock twitch in my jeans.

He kissed me again, slower now, deliberate, guiding me backward until my hips hit the edge of the counter. Then his hand slid down my side, over my belt, to my thigh, the pressure grounding, possessive. I shivered.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to meet my eyes, his pupils were blown wide. “Come with me,” he said softly, a hint of command beneath it.

He took my hand, leading me through the quiet apartment. The floor was cool under my feet, my pulse still drumming in my ears. The bedroom door opened to low light, the sheets crisp and dark, the air smelling faintly of him.

He turned, that same slow confidence in his eyes. “Let me,” he whispered, and then he kissed me again, easing me down onto the bed as his hands slid to my belt, steady, unhurried like he wanted to savor every second of undoing me.

────────────────Simon’s hands were everywhere at once yet deliberate, teasing, as he eased the belt from my pants and let the fabric pool at my hips. I shivered, exposed and hyperaware of every inch of him; the way his body moved with controlled grace, the heat in his eyes, the way his fingers lingered at the waistband of my boxers.

He slid them down slowly, letting me step out of them, then paused. “You’re so damn tense,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across the curve of my hip. “I think I need to fix that.”

The moment his hand pressed to my chest, I felt it…the hard, insistent pulse of him against my own growing cock, pressing through the thin fabric of my underwear. My breath caught. My fingers traced his biceps, marveling at the sculpted lines, the lean power beneath his t-shirt as he leaned over me, lips brushing along my jaw, down to my neck, each kiss calculated to drive me wild.

I arched into him, wanting more, needing more. Simon chuckled softly against my skin, low and dangerous. “Careful,” he whispered. “If you melt before I even touch you properly, we’ll have to start over.”

He finally slid his hand lower, brushing my cock through the thin cotton, teasing, rolling the tip against his palm. I groaned, hips lifting without thought, hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. The contrast between his smooth skin and the firm, controlled heat of his body pressed against mine was maddening.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, lips grazing mine again, the slow drag of his tongue against mine. “You’re going to make this impossible for me.”

“Then don’t stop,” I rasped.

And he didn’t. Simon shifted, taking full control, sliding a hand down my side, pressing me back into the bed, letting the weight of him ground me. Every brush, every movement was deliberate, intimate, like he was learning the map of me with his fingers and mouth.

When his mouth found mine again, it was electric, claiming, soft and sharp all at once. I gasped into it as his other hand wrapped slid inside my underwear and wrapped around the base of my cock, stroking, teasing, coaxing. The mix of his hot breath, the press of his body, the teasing motion of his hand sent me spiraling…heart hammering, cock throbbing, senses overloaded.

He pulled back just slightly, eyeing me. “Julian, you’re beautiful,” he said quietly, almost reverently, before leaning down and taking my underwear off and wrapping his lips around my cock. I cried out softly, fingers digging into his hair, hips lifting instinctively. The heat of him, wet and warm, sending shockwaves straight through me, was exquisite. Every inch, every movement, he knew just how to drive me wild.

Simon’s hands moved with purpose, one wrapping around my thigh, the other sliding along my side, grounding me as he took my dick further, deeper, slower. I bit my lip, groaning, hips bucking involuntarily, every nerve on fire. He hummed around me, a low, teasing sound that made me clench and shiver.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes glinting with heat and control, I was trembling, chest heaving, cock wet and pulsing. He smiled down at me, satisfied, hand resting possessively on my hip.

“Careful,” he said with a cocky smirk. “If this happens too fast, I might just ruin you before we even start properly.”

I laughed breathlessly, trying to catch my own pulse, hands still tangled in his hair and across his chest. The anticipation, the lust, the raw intimacy of the moment made every rational thought vanish.

Simon shifted, pressing himself fully against me, sliding the hem of his polo up over his head with deliberate slowness, revealing the lean, toned lines of his torso, the warm curve of his waist, the taut plane of his abs. My eyes roamed freely, the sight sending another shiver down my spine.

“You’ve been looking,” he murmured, catching my gaze lingering too long. “And I like it.”

I swallowed, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You think I can help it?”

He chuckled low, brushing lips against mine again, deep and claiming, as one hand trailed lower, teasing my balls. My cock throbbed violently, hard and insistent. “Oh, no,” he whispered, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And then, just like that, he guided me fully onto the bed, letting his hands roam, lips never leaving mine, until our bodies were pressed together..Every kiss, every brush of skin, every gasp, was a conversation of heat and desire.

He paused for just a moment, eyes locking with mine, and I knew…this wasn’t just a casual fuck. Every inch of Simon, every deliberate movement, every teasing smirk, was claiming me, reading me, testing me. And I wanted it, all of it, even as my mind spun with the intensity.

“Tonight,” he murmured, voice roughened with need, “I’m going to make sure you remember me… and remember what Hardwood Creek feels like.”

I nodded, chest heaving, heart pounding, my cock throbbing, aware of every brush of skin and the tension that had been building for weeks…small-town lust, city heat, control, surrender. Everything that had led to this moment now flowed in one relentless current of desire.

Simon’s mouth found mine again, hands sliding across my hips, tugging me closer as he teased, claiming, owning. The room hummed with our shared need, hot and relentless, until it was impossible to tell where I ended and he began.────────────────Hardwood Creek 🏨 | Part 8: Claimed and Consumed