Cabin Fever - Roe Horvat Page 0,23

fingers on his thigh, threw my arm around him, and cupped his groin. His soft dick in my palm, I brushed my lips over the short hair on his nape.

“Vincent…” he murmured in his sleep.

My boy dreamed of me.

I woke up by the sun streaming through the window, sweating in the stuffy heat. I forced my eyes open. Michael was already up. Irritated, I got dressed quickly. It felt wrong to let him roam while I was asleep. What if he went outside again?

I found him in the kitchen, making breakfast. We were out of eggs, so he was heating up some frozen waffles in the toaster.

When I entered, he smiled an honest, happy smile, and it pierced my heart like a dagger.

“Morning. You finally slept.”

“I do sleep.”

“Yeah, like four hours a day.”

I shrugged.

“The coffee’s fresh.”

He’d prepared everything. He’d even set the table, which made me smile despite my apprehensiveness. I hugged him from behind, and he leaned into my embrace, sighing deeply.

“You’re being a good boy again?”

“I guess, since I fucked up last night, it’s the least I can do.”

I chuckled.

We had coffee and waffles, and after I checked the surveillance report, I took mercy on him and took him out for a long hike. He was almost hyper, so excited to venture farther away from the cabin than just the jogging trail around the lake.

The weather was mild, the breeze soft, and he even took off his fleece jacket, walking up the trail in only his T-shirt. The day was humid, and I expected we’d get a storm tonight.

After barely a couple of hours, we paused by a vista where the trees opened around a small group of rocks, giving us glimpses of the lake below us. Sitting on a boulder, we ate the protein bars I’d brought with us and drank some water.

“We should head back,” I said.

“I know. It’s been nice. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I need to pee.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off his ass. “Be right back.”

“Don’t go far.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Brat. I don’t spank you nearly as hard and as often as you deserve.”

“Do it tonight. Make me scream,” he threw over his shoulder.

I laughed. He paused just some thirty feet away, by a cluster of pine trees. I gave him some privacy, checking the weather on my phone. A storm was indeed gathering. We should hurry back, or we’d get wet.

“Vincent!” Michael yelped. His tone pierced my thoughts. It wasn’t a loud scream, but his low voice was full of utter terror.

I was by him in ten quick strides, my hand on my gun.

He was shaking, his face pale like death, staring into the deep forest in front of him.

“What, Mikey?”

He shook his head.

“Michael?”

He swallowed and wilted, the tension in his shoulders releasing.

“I… I thought I saw someone. I’m sorry.” He gritted his teeth. “Fuck. It was nothing. Just a tree branch. I’m sorry.”

Taking a shuddering breath, he tried to zip up his fly, but his hands were trembling so much he couldn’t.

“Mikey, it’s okay. Here, let me help.” I zipped up his pants and then his fleece jacket. He was shaking, his teeth chattering.

“Fuck, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry,” he forced out.

I hugged him close, his body so small and fragile all of a sudden, wrapped in an oversized fleece jacket.

“Shh, baby. You’re okay. You’re so brave. Others would’ve broken down during the first week of what you’ve been through. You are so fucking brave, Michael.”

“Vincent, I…” He choked.

“It’s okay, my sweet boy. I’m here.”

“Vincent.” He slumped into my embrace.

I stroked his back up and down, holding him tightly, just listening to his calming breaths until the first raindrops fell.

“Mikey, it’s raining. Come on, let’s go home.”

Home. What a ridiculous concept, but Michael nodded and moved. I followed two steps behind him, as close as I could without actually stepping on his heels.

Just before we reached the cabin, the storm broke, dousing us in cold rain. As soon as we were inside, I started the fire in the fireplace and peeled off my wet trousers. My jacket was waterproof, but my boots had taken a hard hit. I put them close to the fire, hoping they’d be dry in a day. Then I made tea. Michael was drenched, his T-shirt, jacket, and jeans no match for the downpour, and he went to his bedroom to change.

Dressed in sweats and a clean T-shirt, Michael emerged and wordlessly began preparing dinner. His coping mechanism number one—keeping