The Lumberjack boyfriend - Chapter 7 (Patreon)

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

Chapter 7

I woke up alone.

The forest was gone. The whiskey was gone. Morgan’s weight against my side was gone. What was left was the same cabin, the same thin mattress, and the same ache that had nothing to do with being fucked and everything to do with the way he had asked me to stay.

Hunting Adeline, the second book, was open on my chest. I had started it the night Jenna came back, because finishing the first book felt like the only thing I still knew how to do. I had read the same page four times. Zade was in the dark somewhere and I was in a wooden room that still smelled, faintly, like Morgan even though he hadn’t been in here.

I kept seeing it. The bottle between his knees. The open shirt. The way his head had dropped against my hair. I don’t want to be alone right now. Then nothing. I must have dozed. When I opened my eyes he was already walking back toward the cabins, the bottle hanging from his fingers, and I had sat there in the needles until my legs worked.

He hadn’t looked at me at breakfast.

Jenna had. She’d asked if I was coming on the hike. Mom had asked three times. Dad had already packed the water.

“I’m going to read,” I said.

Mom made the face she made when she thought I was isolating.

“Let him,” Jenna said, already tying her hair up. “He’s been in that book since we got here.”

Morgan was on the porch of the small cabin with a coffee he hadn’t touched. Shirtless. Jeans. The cap low. He didn’t say I should come. He didn’t say I should stay. He watched Jenna put her shoes on like she was the only person on the lake.

“You sure?” Dad asked me.

“Yeah. Allergies anyway. I prefer the lake.”

Jenna kissed Morgan on the mouth. Quick. Familiar. I looked at the table.

They left at ten.

I heard the three of them on the path. Jenna laughing at something Dad said. Mom asking if they’d packed enough. Morgan’s boots. Then the woods took the sound and the lake went back to being just water and insects.

I locked the door.

I got back in bed in the same shorts and the same old t-shirt. Hunting Adeline again. I made it two pages. Then I was in the trees with his arm across my shoulders and I had to start the paragraph over.

I hated how much I wanted him to knock.

I hated that I had told myself last night was enough.

I was on the part where she misses Zade being when the door handle turned.

I had locked it, but the latch was not working properly.

It turned again, harder. Then a boot hit the wood, not a kick, just weight, and the cheap latch gave like it always did if you knew how.

Morgan stepped in and shut it with his heel.

He was in nothing but loose boxers. Khaki, worn, sitting low. His cock was already out through the fly. Hard. Heavy. The same one I had taken in the woods and in this bed and against the wall. He didn’t bother tucking it away. He didn’t bother with a shirt. The hat was in his hand. He dropped it on the dresser.

“They’re on the north trail,” he said. “Two hours if your mom doesn’t stop to look at every goddamn bird.”

I sat up. The book slid off my chest.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“I know.”

He crossed the room in three steps. The cabin was too small for the way he moved. Up close he smelled like coffee and last night’s whiskey and the heat already coming off the lake. His cock hung out of the boxers, flushed, wet at the tip. He didn’t look embarrassed about it. He looked like a man who had been thinking about this since he woke up and had finally stopped arguing with himself.

“Get up.”

“Morgan—”

“Get up. Against the wall. We don’t have all morning.”

I got up.

He put me there the way he always did — one big hand on my chest, walking me backward until my shoulders hit the wood, not with violence, just intensity. The book was still on the bed. Hunting Adeline, face down, spine cracked. His other hand went to my jaw and tipped my face up.

“Last night doesn’t change anything,” he said. “You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“I meant what I said. When she’s here, this is supposed to be done.”

“Then why are you here?”

His mouth tightened.

“Because I woke up hard and I could still feel your hand on my chest and I couldn’t sit in that cabin and pretend I didn’t.” He shoved the boxers down just enough to free himself properly. “So you’re going to shut up and open your mouth and you’re not going to make it into something it isn’t.”

“You came looking for me.”

“I came to use your throat. There’s a difference. I need a good face fuck.”

He fisted my hair and pushed me to my knees.

The floor was hard. His cock was right in front of my face, the smell of him thick, the weight of it already familiar. I opened. He didn’t wait for me to get ready. He fed it into my mouth and kept going until my nose was in the hair at the base and my throat had nowhere to go.

I gagged.

He held me there.

“That’s it,” he muttered. “That’s what I came for. Not a talk. Not last night. This. You sit in the woods and you pet me like I’m some sad big dog and then I have to watch her kiss me at breakfast. You know what that does to a man?”

He pulled back only far enough for me to drag in air.

“Answer me.”

“I know…” I was lying. I had no idea.

“You don’t know. You think you do.” He pushed back in, slower this time, then harder. “I told you to stay away from me when they’re around. I told you this ends. And here I am in her brother’s cabin with my dick in your mouth. You happy?”

I couldn’t answer. I could only take it. My hands were on his thighs. The muscle jumped every time he bottomed out.

He started fucking my mouth for real.

Short, deep strokes. Urgent. The wet sound of it filled the cabin. Spit ran down my chin and onto my t-shirt. My glasses slipped. He pushed them back up with his thumb without stopping.

“Keep them on,” he said. “I want you to see it. I want you to remember who you were sucking when you sit at dinner later and she asks you about your book. I want to remember me for the rest of your life, every time you’re sucking some gay dude of your smart school, you’ll remember me, the only real man the fucked you.”

He held my head with both hands and used my throat. I gagged again. More spit. He didn’t ease up.

“Fuck, you take it better every time. Your sister can’t do this. She won’t. And I’m in here face-fucking her little brother like a degenerate.” A rough breath. “Don’t you look at me like that. This is still just a hole. A mouth. That’s all.”

I made a sound around him. He took it for agreement and went deeper.

He pulled out. I gasped, chin shiny, a line of spit breaking off his cock.

“Bed,” he said. “On your back. Head off the edge.”

“Morgan… this is risky.” I had no idea how long we still had until they are back.

“You heard me. We don’t have time for you to think about it.”

I moved.

The mattress was still warm from where I’d been reading and bet rotting thinking about him. I lay down and let my head hang back over the side. The room went upside down. The ceiling. Then Morgan’s thighs. Then his cock, above me, and he stepped in and pushed it straight down my throat.

The angle was worse. Deeper. I had no leverage. He braced one hand on the mattress and the other on my neck, not choking, just holding me where he wanted me, and he fucked my face from above like he was finishing a job before the trail brought them back.

Thick spit flooded immediately. It ran up over my cheeks, into my hair, over the lenses of my glasses. I could barely see him through it. The wet, filthy sound of my throat was loud enough that I was sure it would carry if anyone was on the path.

“Good Lord,” he said. “Look at that. Slime all over your smart little glasses. That’s your throat, Gay Potter. That’s what you sound like when you stop pretending you’re just a shy reader.”

He stayed in, grinding, and I gagged, more of it running into my hairline. He pulled back, let me cough, then pushed in again.

“Breathe when I let you. That’s it. Open. Don’t fight me.”

He set a rhythm. Long strokes that used the whole of my mouth, then short ones that punched the back of my throat and stayed there. My eyes watered. The glasses were a mess. I could taste him and myself and the panic of the clock in the same breath. His balls sat against my nose when he went all the way in.

“You thought about this last night,” he said. “Don’t lie. You sat there being sweet and you still wanted this. Same as me. That’s the problem.”

He fucked my face harder. The bed creaked. Spit hit the floor under my head.

“Say it when I pull out. Say you wanted it.”

He pulled out. I coughed, turned, spit.

“I wanted it.”

“Louder.”

“I wanted it, Morg…”

He pushed back in before I finished the last word.

He kept me like that. Upside down. Throat open. Glasses wrecked. Every time I thought he was close he slowed down, just enough to stay in control, and talked through his teeth.

“She’s out there walking with your parents. I’m in here using you. If they turn around now I’m done. We’re both done. You get that?”

I moaned around him, unable to talk properly.

“Yeah. You get it. And you still don’t want me to stop.”

He went faster. His thighs were shaking. The urgency was all over him now — not just the clock, the thing he couldn’t say out loud.

“I’m gonna cum on your face,” he said. “Not down your throat. I want to see it. I want you hanging there with my load on those glasses when you go back to your little book. You hear me? If they ask you it’s just sun cream, a thick layer because your skin is sensitive, get it?”

He pulled out.

I stayed where I was, head off the edge, mouth open, throat working. He stood over me and stroked himself, the wet from my mouth loud in his fist. One hand stayed in my hair, holding my head back.

“Keep your eyes open. Don’t you close them. I want you to see it, hit your Gay-Potter glasses.”

He came with a grunt masculine, punched-out sound.

The first pulse hit my mouth. The second hit my cheek, my glasses, the bridge of my nose. He kept stroking, painting me, messy, deliberate, a third streak across my lips and chin. He didn’t try to make it neat. He stood over me and finished on my face like that was the point of coming here.

He stayed there a second, breathing, looking down at what he’d done.

“That’s what I came for,” he said, quieter. “Not last night. This. Paint your face with my cum.”

Then we heard them.

Not on the north trail.

On the porch.

 “What are they doing here, back so soon?”

Jenna’s voice. Too close.

“—I forgot my comfortable shoes, I don’t need blisters for the rest of my week. I think I left them at your cabin, Mom. I’ll be gone in two minutes.”

Mom said something I didn’t catch. Dad laughed. Then footsteps on the boards. Coming this way. Not to the small cabin. To this one.

Morgan’s whole body went still.

“Fuck.”

He yanked his boxers up. His cock was still wet, half hard, obvious. He looked at me — on the bed, head hanging, face shining, glasses ruined — and then at the door.

“Bathroom,” he hissed. “Now. Hide. Clean yourself. Move, now!”

I scrambled. My legs didn’t want to work. Cum was on my cheek, in my hair, on the lenses. The water was loud. I could hear him in the room, the mattress, the book being set right, his hat.

The screen door opened.

“Harry?” Jenna. “You in here?”

I was shaking with anxiety. I didn’t answer fast enough.

“Morgan?” Her voice changed. “What are you doing in here?”

I shut the water off. I could hear him through the thin door.

“Looking for you, I heard your voice and I was outside. I thought you’re trying to convince your brother again.” he said. Easy. Almost lazy. The same voice he used on the dock.

A pause.

“You’re in your boxers.”

“I was drinking coffee and watching the lake. I heard y’all. Thought you were coming and then I heard you on the path. Didn’t think I needed a whole outfit to walk in the nature.” He was lying non stop. I had no idea the if the lies were making sense or not. All I could hear was my heart racing in my ears.

Another pause. Longer.

I looked in the mirror. My mouth was swollen. There was cum everywhere. I scrubbed it. My glasses were a mess no matter how I wiped them. I pulled them off and used the towel until I could see. My t-shirt had a wet collar. I turned it inside out and put it back on.

“He’s reading,” Morgan said. “I knocked. Door was stuck. You know how that latch is.”

“Where is he?”

“Bathroom.”

I opened the door.

Jenna was in the middle of the room with her hiking shoes in one hand. Morgan was by the dresser, hat in his fingers now, boxers sitting low, chest bare, looking like a man who had just walked over to ask a question. The bed was made enough. Hunting Adeline was on the nightstand, not the floor.

She looked at me.

“You okay? You look—”

“Allergies,” I said. “Pollen.”

Her face was curious. Then she looked at Morgan again, at the boxers, at the fact that he was in our cabin at all.

“Come on,” she said to him. “Put some pants on, have some respect for my brother. Are you sure you don’t want to go for the hike? It’s only an hour each way.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’m going to grill the meat for lunch. Like a good husband, I’ll have lunch ready for you and your parents when you get back.”

He said it with that sideways smile. He didn’t look at me when he passed. His arm brushed the doorframe. Jenna was already going down the steps.

He stopped. One second. Then he sad in a low voice, only for me to hear.

“Two hours, I’ll call you soon. Let’s give them a 20 minutes head start.” he said, so quiet I almost missed it. “If they turn around early, you lock it for real.”

Then he was gone.

I sat on the edge of the bed. The book was there. My throat still felt like him. The floor by the mattress was damp. I could still feel it on my face even after the towel.

Through the screen I heard Jenna laugh at something he said. I heard his boots and his deep voice saying goodbye to them. I heard the three of them pick up the trail again, this time for good, like the last four minutes hadn’t almost ended everything for our family. 

I picked up Hunting Adeline.

I didn’t read a word.

I sat there with the taste of him still in my mouth, listening to the woods, and waiting to see if they would come back.