The Lumberjack - Morgan’s POV - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Author’s note: All characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

Chapter 3 – Morgan’s POV

I woke up already hard.

The cabin was quiet. Sunlight cut through the thin curtains. For a few seconds I just lay there with one arm behind my head, staring at the wooden ceiling, remembering the way Gay Potter’s throat had felt around my cock the night before. The wet sounds he made. The way he swallowed every drop like he was starving for it. My cock twitched against my stomach just thinking about it.

I got up, pulled on a pair of old jeans, and didn’t bother with a shirt. The July heat was already rising off the lake when I stepped outside. Potter’s parents were on the porch of the bigger cabin with coffee. I joined them, grabbed the pan of leftover eggs, and started eating straight from it. Sweat was already starting to form on my chest. I could feel it running down through the hair.

The screen door of the smaller cabin slapped shut.

Gay Potter stepped out.

I looked up and let that slow smirk pull at my mustache.

“Morning, Gay… I mean Harry Potter,” I said, loud enough for his parents to hear. They only chuckled like it was a harmless nickname. 

“Sleep well?”

His face went red immediately. He mumbled something and sat as far from me as the small table allowed. Every time he reached for the toast or the juice I felt his eyes flick toward me and then away. Hungry. Guilty. Exactly how I liked him.

After breakfast his parents decided to drive into town for supplies and to “give the young people some space.” The second their car disappeared down the dirt road, the air changed.

I stretched, feeling the muscles in my arms and back flex, and looked at him over the rim of my coffee mug.

“You’re quiet this morning.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not what I heard last night.” I set the mug down and stepped closer. The smell of sleep and leftover beer still clung to my skin. I knew he could smell it. “You made some real pretty noises with my cock in your mouth.”

He glanced toward the empty road even though his parents were long gone. I noticed and laughed, low and mean.

“Relax. They’re gone for hours. Just you and me, Gay Potter.”

I spent the rest of the morning working around the cabins — lifting firewood, doing push-ups in the dirt. I didn’t put a shirt on on purpose. Every time I lifted something heavy I could feel his eyes on my back, on my arms, on the way my jeans pulled tight across my thighs and ass. He tried to read on the porch. He didn’t turn a single page.

Around noon I walked past him on the way to the cooler, grabbed a beer, and stopped right in front of him.

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” I cracked the beer open with one hand and took a long drink, letting him watch my throat work. A drop of condensation fell from the can onto my chest and rolled down through the hair. I saw his eyes follow it.

“It’s okay. I like it when you look. Makes my cock hard knowing my girl’s little brother is sitting there with hunger just from watching me sweat. It makes me feel desired like never before.”

He swallowed hard. I dropped my eyes for a second and saw the clear outline of his cock pressing against his shorts. When I looked back up I was still amused.

“Go put on your swim stuff. We’re cooling off.”

He actually went. He was totally hypnotized by my masculine energy and that shirt turned me on so fucking much. 

When he came back out in those thin old swim shorts I was already on the dock in my black boxers. I looked over my shoulder at him and smirked.

“Cute. If you were a girl I would marry you instead of your sister…”

I dove in without waiting. The water was cold enough to wake every nerve. When I surfaced he was still standing on the dock like he wasn’t sure. I swam closer.

“Come here.”

He didn’t move fast enough. I reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him against me in the water. His smooth chest hit the thick hair on mine. I settled one hand on his lower back, fingers spreading just above the curve of his ass, and rolled my hips once under the water so he could feel exactly how hard I was.

“Feel that?” I murmured, voice low enough that only he could hear. “Been like that since breakfast. Every time you look at me with those hungry little eyes behind your glasses it gets worse. You should know the power you have on men, Gay Potter. I guess you’re really a wizard.”

His own cock was fully hard now, trapped between us. I grinned.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

I held him there for another few seconds, letting him feel every thick inch of me, before I suddenly released him and swam backward with a lazy stroke.

“Later,” I said simply, and climbed out of the water. The black boxers clung to my cock obscenely. I made sure he got a good look before I walked back toward the cabin.

The afternoon was even better.

I found reasons to stay near him. When he tried to read on the porch I came and sat on the railing right in front of him, legs spread, drinking beer and scrolling on my phone. Every so often I shifted so the thick outline of my cock pressed clearly against the denim. Once, when he dropped his book, I picked it up and held it just out of reach.

“Ask nicely.”

“…Can I have my book?”

“Try again.”

He stared at me. I raised an eyebrow under the cap.

“Can I have my book… please.”

“Please what?”

His face was on fire. “Please, Morgan.”

I handed it over, letting my fingers brush his longer than necessary.

“Good boy.”

By the time the sun started dropping I could tell he was completely wrecked with desire for me. His parents still weren’t back. I went into my cabin, changed into old jeans and a white wifebeater, and grabbed the Ghostface mask. When I stepped back outside he was sitting stiffly on the porch steps. I gave him the same slow, filthy smile from the night before.

“Parents texted. They’re staying in town for dinner. Won’t be back until late. They asked me to cook you some dinner and take care of you. Guess what’s gonna be your dinner? Sausage.”

His throat moved.

I walked over until I was standing right above him. The smell of clean sweat and soap and whatever the fuck I naturally smell like wrapped around both of us.

“You know what that means, Gay Potter.”

He did.

“Same game as last night,” I said, voice dropping. “You run. I hunt. Difference is… tonight when I catch you, I’m not stopping at your mouth. I’m taking that tight little hole you’ve been teasing me with all day.”

I leaned down, mustache almost brushing his ear, then pulled the mask on.

“You’ve got ten seconds. Starting now.”

He ran.

I gave him a head start on purpose. Let the the excitement build. Then I stepped off the porch and followed at a steady walk. I never needed to rush. The woods were already half-dark. I could hear him crashing through the undergrowth ahead of me.

“Faster,” I called, voice low and mocking through the mask. “I can already tell how wet that hole is for me.”

A minute later I heard him stumble. I closed the distance, reached out, and closed my hand around the back of his neck like a collar, yanking him backward hard.

He slammed into my chest. Solid. Burning hot. I locked one arm across his stomach, pinning him against me while I ground the thick bulge in my jeans slowly against the small of his back.

“Got you.”

I spun him around and shoved him back against a wide pine. Bark scraped his shoulders. For a second the white Ghostface mask was all he could see — empty black eyes, frozen mouth — and then I pulled it off in one motion. I dragged the wifebeater off too and tossed both to the ground. My body was still warm from the day, chest hair dark with sweat.

I looked down at him and let that filthy, victorious grin spread.

“There he is.”

Before he could speak I grabbed his jaw, tilted his head up, and kissed him.

It was deep, aggressive, and completely claiming. I opened his mouth with mine and pushed my tongue inside, thick and demanding. The mustache scraped his skin. I kissed him like I was trying to crawl inside him, pressing the full weight of my body against his until he could barely breathe. One hand stayed locked on his jaw; the other gripped his hip hard enough to leave marks.

He made a broken sound of desire against my mouth. His hands ended up splayed on my chest, fingers curling into the thick hair. I kissed him harder, tilting my head, sucking on his tongue, biting his lower lip. I kept kissing him until his knees started to give.

When I finally pulled back, a thin string of spit connected our mouths. Fuck that’s sexy. My eyes felt almost black with how hard I was.

“You’ve been wanting that all day too,” I muttered.

I dropped my hand to his shorts and shoved them down in one rough motion. Cool air hit his skin. I spat into my palm, rubbed it between his cheeks, and pushed two thick fingers inside him. He cried out and clenched around me.

“Still so fucking tight. I guess you were waiting for a real man like me all of your life. This little hole is gonna take my cock so well.”

I pulled my fingers out, freed my cock from my jeans, and turned him around so he was facing the tree. The thick head pressed against him. I looked him dead in the eyes over his shoulder.

“Take it.”

I pushed in with one long, relentless thrust.

He gasped and dug his fingers into the tree as I forced every thick inch inside him until my hips were flush against his ass. I stayed buried for a second, breathing hard against his neck, feeling how tight and hot he was around me. Then I started fucking him in deep, powerful strokes that drove him into the tree with every thrust.

“That’s it,” I growled. “Take your sister’s boyfriend’s cock. This is what you’ve been begging for with those puppy eyes all day.”

I fucked him hard and steady. Bark scraped his chest and stomach. My chest hair rubbed against his smooth back. Every thrust forced broken sounds out of him. I kept kissing the side of his neck and jaw between strokes — deep, messy, possessive — while my cock rearranged him from the inside.

“Fucking love this tight little hole,” I snarled against his skin. “Gonna use it every night until your sister comes back. And I guess even if she falls asleep I will visit you too, Gay Potter.”

I turned him around, hooked his legs up so he was completely off the ground, pinned against the tree by my strength alone, and drove into him even harder. The new angle made him cry out. His little cock leaked steadily between us.

My rhythm started to break. My breathing turned harsh. I buried my face in his neck, mustache scraping, and bit down as I fucked him through the last brutal strokes.

“Gonna fill this ass. Gonna pump my load so deep you’ll feel me when you sit down tomorrow. I wish I could make you pregnant and run away with you.”

I slammed in one final time and came hard, cock pulsing thick and heavy inside him. I felt every spurt flooding him. I kept grinding through it, forcing every drop deeper, while my mouth found his again in a messy, breathless kiss.

For a long moment we stayed like that — him pinned against the tree, legs wrapped around me, my cock still buried and twitching, both of us breathing hard into each other’s mouths.

Then I slowly pulled out. Cum immediately began to leak down his thighs. I set him back on his feet, but his legs were shaking so badly he had to lean against the tree.

I looked down at him — shorts around his thighs, hole dripping, lips swollen, glasses crooked — and that slow, filthy smile spread across my face again.

“Same time tomorrow, Gay Potter,” I said, voice still rough. “And next time I might even let you cum.”

I tucked myself away, picked up the discarded mask and my wifebeater, and walked back toward the cabins without looking back.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire way.

And I already knew he was going to follow me.

The second I pulled back from that kiss, something ugly and confusing twisted in my chest. I’d kissed plenty of women. I’d fucked plenty of women. None of them had ever made my head go this quiet and this loud at the same time. Harry’s mouth had been soft and desperate and so fucking eager, and the way he melted against me when I pushed my tongue inside had felt better than it had any right to. I could still taste him. I could still feel the way his fingers had curled into the hair on my chest like he was holding on for dear life. 

It was supposed to be just another way to mess with him, another way to get my cock wet before his sister came back. But the way my heart was slamming against my ribs and the way I already wanted to kiss him again made it feel like something I wasn’t ready to name. I told myself it was just the heat and the beer and the fact that he took my cock so well. I told myself it didn’t mean shit. The problem was, I didn’t believe me.