Hardwood Creek 🏨 | Part 10: The Barn And The Memory (Patreon)

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

Saying goodbye to Simon stayed with me longer than I expected. It sat under my skin like a quiet bruise, nothing dramatic or sharp, just a steady ache that pulsed every time I let my mind wander. I came to this town to breathe, not to feel anything close to the beginning of something beautiful. I did not expect a night in a small apartment, with a man who cooked breakfast and kissed me softly in the morning, to make my chest feel full and strangely empty at the same time. Maybe it was not love, not yet, but it could have grown into something tender if timing had been kinder.

Life at the motel kept moving, even when I did not feel ready to move with it. Sheets needed to be changed. Keys needed organizing. Paperwork needed sorting. I walked from room to room, doing the things I always did, but I could not shake the sense that the air felt different without him. Every time I passed the lobby desk, I remembered the way Simon leaned on it the first day he met me. Every time I counted change, I remembered the way he had watched my hands one evening and said I had a calmness in me that did not match the life I claimed I used to live.

I went to townhall two days after he left. I had to get a small permit updated. Something simple. Something that should have taken five minutes. But when I walked inside, my feet carried me toward the corner where Simon used to sit. His desk had always been a little messy. Always warmed by the soft lamp he used. Always shaped by his presence. Now it looked too neat. Too empty. Someone had stacked new folders on it, as if trying to erase the shape of his absence.

A small breath caught in my throat and I had to look away before anyone noticed. It was stupid to feel that strongly over a desk. But memories do not care what triggers it. Even the smallest things can hit like a quiet punch.

I stepped back outside into the sunlight and let the warm air settle around me. I told myself to move on. To get back to work. To go home. But the world felt hushed in a way I could not explain, like it was waiting for me to adjust to something I did not want to adjust to.

Ethan found me at the motel later that afternoon. He leaned against his truck with a confident ease, strong arms folded across his chest, watching me finish a conversation with a guest. When I walked over, he gave me a slow grin that felt too easy, too familiar.

“You look like you could use a distraction,” he said. “Come out to the barn. Get your hands dirty. Learn what work looks like in this town.”

I tried to joke it off at first, but his timing was perfect. I needed air. I needed noise. I needed something to pull me away from the memory of Simon’s mouth on mine and the way he whispered against my neck. So I told Ethan yes. I would come by before sunset.

The barn sat on the edge of his father’s property, wide open at the front, the wooden beams glowing in the late afternoon light. Dust floated lazily in the air, sparkling in the warm gold. The scent of hay wrapped around me as soon as I stepped inside, thick and familiar. I used to hate this kind of smell. Now it felt grounding.

Ethan was there already, tank top clinging to his body from heat, his biceps flexing as he rolled a bale of hay aside. His skin gleamed with sweat, and he looked like a fantasy pulled straight out of my old life. Tall. Built. Confident. Rough around the edges in a way that made something low in my stomach tighten.

“You made it,” he said, pushing his hair back.

“You dragged me out of the motel,” I said. “I felt obligated.”

He laughed, a deep, warm sound. “Come here. Hold this.”

He guided my hands around the wooden handle of a tool, stepping behind me to adjust my grip. His chest pressed lightly against my back, hot and solid. His hands wrapped around mine, larger and rougher than Simon’s. There was no hesitation in him. No softness. No gentleness. Just a man who knew what he wanted and moved straight toward it.

“You are hopeless with this,” he murmured near my ear.

“You did not give me instructions.”

“I did. You just wanted to watch my arms instead of listening.”

He was right, and he knew it.

I laughed under my breath and he grinned at me like he enjoyed hearing it.

We worked for a while. It was mostly him doing the heavy lifting and me pretending I was helping and trying to learn. Every so often he would look at me in a way that said he was thinking about something other than hay. His eyes trailed over my chest, my arms, my mouth. I felt my body respond before I could talk myself down from it.

This was the kind of man I used to chase. The kind of man I used to fall into bed with after two drinks and a hard kiss. Beautiful. Physical. Simple. No feelings. Just fire.

He caught me looking and stepped closer, wiping sweat from his neck with the back of his hand.

“You keep staring,” he said softly. “You want something?”

I swallowed. “Maybe.”

He took a slow step forward. Then another. His body heat washed over me, thick and consuming.

“Good,” he said.

He stopped inches from me, his breath warm against my mouth. His thumb grazed my jaw. The barn went quiet around us, like even the air knew what was coming.

He kissed me.

No hesitation. No caution. Just a full, strong, hungry kiss that took my breath away. His hand slid behind my waist, pulling me against him. His body was solid, hard, hot. The kind of body that could pin you against anything and make you forget your name.

I kissed him back because it felt good. It felt easy. It felt like the life I used to live before everything changed. His tongue slid against mine and I groaned into his mouth, heat flooding through me, desire rising fast and heavy.

He walked me backward until my back hit one of the thick wooden beams. The kiss deepened. His hips pressed into mine. His hands roamed over my chest, gripping hard, dragging a low moan out of me.

I wanted this. The roughness. The certainty. The fire.

I wanted the distraction.

Ethan pulled back just long enough to murmur against my lips, “You taste good, Julian. Been thinking about doing this for a while.”

His mouth found mine again, hotter, deeper, more urgent. My hands slid up his back, feeling the muscle shift beneath my palms. His breath hitched as he pushed a thigh between my legs, grinding upward with slow pressure.

My head tipped back and he smiled against my neck, pleased with the sound I made.

“Come here,” he said, his voice lower now.

He took my wrist gently and led me toward the hay bale at the back of the barn, pulling me close, pulling me down with him.

He spread his legs a little, eyes locked on mine, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Come closer.”

And I did. Hungry for heat. Hungry for distraction. Hungry for anything that did not remind me of Simon’s soft kiss on my forehead that morning.

Ethan leaned back against the hay bale in the far corner, the most private spot in the barn. Light filtered through the slats, thin stripes of gold crossing his chest and arms. Dust drifted lazily in the warm air around him. He looked carved from the space itself, the kind of rural fantasy most men only got in their imagination.

He stood with his legs spread just enough to make my breath catch, his chest rising and falling in slow anticipation. His knuckles brushed the rough hay behind him, and his eyes tracked me with a heat that pressed against my skin.

“Come here,” he said, voice low, a little rough.

I moved toward him without thinking. My heart thudded in my chest, faster than I wanted to admit. The smell of hay and sweat surrounded us, thick and warm. Ethan reached out and gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me between his legs with one quick, confident tug.

His mouth met mine again, hot and hungry. The kiss was harder this time, deeper, almost claiming. He tasted like heat and salt and the kind of want that did not ask questions. His hands slid over my back, stronger now, fingers digging in just enough to make a soft moan slip out of me.

He pulled back just enough to look at me and said, “I have wanted you under me since the day you arrived in this town.”

My breath hitched.

He smirked like he could feel it. Then he reached for his belt.

The metallic click of the Ethan’s buckle opening cut through the quiet barn. My eyes dropped instinctively towards his belt. Ethan kept his gaze locked on mine while he slowly pushed the leather free, sliding the belt through the loops with a soft whisper of sound.

“Help me,” he said, his voice steady.

I stepped closer and let my fingers touch the waistband of his jeans. He watched every movement as I unbuttoned them, the metal popping open beneath my touch. His breath deepened when I tugged the zipper down. The fabric parted, revealing the outline of his cock straining hard against his underwear.

He leaned back, offering himself with that same bold, confident ease.

“Take them off,” he murmured.

I slid my fingers under the band of his underwear and slowly pulled them down. The fabric fell past his hips, then his thighs. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already glistening at the tip. He was big, bigger than I expected…maybe about 7”, his breath catching slightly as the cool air hit him.

I knelt between his legs, the hay crunching softly beneath my knees. Up close, his dick looked even bigger. A bead of precum slid down the head and I felt a spark of heat rush through me.

Ethan watched me with a hungry, almost eager focus. His hand reached out and brushed my cheek with surprising gentleness before he let his fingers drift into my hair.

“Yeah…suck it,” he said softly. “I am so fucking hard.”

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, the heat of him pulsing against my palm. He groaned at the contact, a sound that hit me low in the stomach. I stroked him slowly, watching his expression shift, his jaw tightening, his breath deepening. I leaned closer and let my tongue drag across the head of his cock, tasting salt and heat and the first edge of raw hunger.

He sucked in a breath. “Deeper.”

I licked his cock again, slower this time. My lips parted and I took him into my mouth, slowly feeling the thick weight of his skin glide over my tongue. Ethan let out a rough groan and his hand tightened in my hair, not pulling, just holding, guiding, steady.“Umhmm fuck, just like that”

I bobbed my head slowly at first, letting the rhythm build. His hips pressed forward, just slightly, his breath turning into short, shaky exhales.

“Just like that,” he muttered. “Deeper, argh fuck..”

I sucked him deeper, my saliva sliding down the length of his dick, my hand playing with his balls as my mouth worked his cock. Ethan’s moans filled the barn, low and deep, echoing off the wooden walls. His thighs tensed under my hands. His head tipped back, eyes half closed.

He looked like pure want.

I pulled back for a breath, lips swollen, jaw tense, and he cupped my face with both hands.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

I did.

His eyes darkened. “Put your mouth back on it.”

The command hit me in a way I did not expect. I slid down again, taking him deeper, feeling the heat and pulse of him fill me. His hips lifted, slowly, testing. I relaxed my throat and pushed down, swallowing more of him. He groaned loudly, fingers tightening in my hair.

“Fuck, Julian. Just like that.”

I worked him harder now, faster, letting the rhythm take over, the taste of him thick on my tongue. His hand stroked the back of my head, guiding, praising, urging. My breath mixed with his, the barn filled with the sound of wet heat and moans.

He was close. I could feel it in the tension of his thighs, the sharpness of his breaths, the deeper grind of his hips.

I sucked harder. I stroked him faster.

He gasped, “You are going to make me come.”

And for a moment, I almost wanted it. The rawness. The heat. The surrender.

But then, out of nowhere, something shifted.

My mind flickered. Not to Ethan. To Simon.

The way he cupped my jaw with gentle fingers. The way he kissed like he cared. The way he whispered good morning with his lips against my forehead. The way his body brushed mine without a hint of ego.

Ethan’s breath stuttered, ready to release.

And I stopped.

I pulled back, mouth slipping free, hand loosening at once. He let out a frustrated groan, head snapping forward.

“What are you doing?” Ethan asked, breath sharp.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to steady my breathing. “I cannot.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were just about to finish me.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I just cannot right now.”

He leaned in, confused, annoyed, trying to understand. “Is it me?”

“No,” I said. “It is not you.”

His chest rose and fell, still swollen with need, still half exposed. His cock throbbed against his stomach. “Then what is it?”

I swallowed. “Something else is in my head.”

The truth landed between us like a dropped weight. Ethan stared at me, then looked away, jaw tightening slightly, realizing exactly who I meant.

“You should go,” he said finally, his voice softer now. Not angry. Just resigned.

“I know.”

I stood up slowly, my legs unsteady. I pulled myself together, brushing hay from my pants. Ethan watched me with an expression I could not quite read. Frustration. Curiosity. Maybe even a hint of sympathy.

“It’s someone else, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

I looked at him, surprised and nodded once.

I left the barn with my pulse still racing, the taste of Ethan’s cock still on my tongue, and the memory of Simon rising so sharply in my chest that it hurt to breathe.

That night, I lay awake in my bed at the motel, staring at the ceiling. I had wanted Ethan for weeks. Wanted the body, the heat, the force. Tonight, I finally had him wanting me too.

But every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Simon.

And that was when I realized the truth.

I did not want to go back to the life I used to chase.

I wanted him.

Simon.

Even if he was already gone.

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Hardwood Creek 🏨 | Part 11: The Confession I Never Expected