Cabin Fever - Roe Horvat Page 0,5

to his abdomen. I imagined those hips moving, muscles rippling, fucking me deep while I lay spread underneath him. Now there’s a dream I’d like to have.

“I understand. Now listen.”

“Yeah…” He had a birthmark by his left hip. The outline of his junk was subtle under his loose pajama pants, but I could always imagine…

“My eyes are up here, Michael!”

I looked up, startled by the sudden harsh tone of his voice.

“You are not to leave the cabin without me. Do not open the front door during the night. If you do, the security system alerts me.”

I sighed. “Got it.”

“Do you need a sleeping pill?”

“No.” Same nightmares, but not being able to wake up from them. Been there, done that. No, thank you.

“Stay inside, Michael. We can go out in the morning,” Vincent said in a soothing tone.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Good night.” He still stood there, waiting.

What was I supposed to do? “Night,” I mumbled and went back to bed.

I lay awake, trying not to think about the miles of dark woods around us. It’s not the forest that should scare you, silly. Determined to distract myself the best way I knew, I stripped off my sleep shorts underneath the covers and grabbed my hard dick. Think about Vincent. The happy trail, those pecs, the growl in his voice… I barely managed to catch the spunk in the fabric of the shorts. I wiped myself off and threw them on the floor.

Miraculously, I slept until seven.

Vincent had told me he’d be doing morning runs every day, and I joined him the third day. I needed to burn off some of the excess energy. He didn’t seem very happy about it.

We ran a circle around the lake, Vincent with his gun holster across his chest, sweaty and sexy like one of my filthy fantasies. When we came back to the cabin, I wanted to lick the sweat off him. Instead, we had a deeply awkward exchange about who was going to shower first—for some reason, it had to be me. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at his micromanaging. He took his turn in the bathroom second, and I cooked lunch out of pure desperation.

In the afternoon, he even let me sit outside with my sketchbook while he chopped some wood for the fireplace in case the weather turned nasty. I tried to do some nature sketches, but I kept returning to him. He was by far the most interesting subject around, so what was I supposed to do? Draw birds and shit?

It had been only three days, and I already had Vincent’s body and face memorized to the last detail. I only yearned to see him fully naked. I began sketching him last night, getting stuck on his hands. Those strong fingers were art by themselves. Every one of my attempts to draw them felt insufficient.

On the fourth day, I let Vincent go running alone, since I was still sore from yesterday. He returned after thirty minutes. I watched him through the living room window. Vincent took off his sweaty T-shirt and walked the few steps to the edge of the wooden pier. Instinctively, I pushed my hand down my sweats and squeezed my growing erection. Vincent stretched his arms above his head, the muscles on his back gliding, then jumped into the water. Fuck, he made me horny.

The image of my sweaty, half-naked bodyguard the only thing on my mind, I pulled my dick out, and, closing my eyes, stroked myself hard for a while. Water burbled. I snapped open my eyes. Vincent emerged from the lake, picked up the towel he’d left on the pier, and dried his hair. Oh god. Vincent was wet, his glorious body glittering in the morning sun, the outline of his cock perfectly visible in his shorts. I groaned. Precum oozed out of my slit as I jerked myself, and I pushed my sweats lower with my other hand, so I could squeeze my balls.

“Fuck yeah,” I mumbled, spiraling quickly out of control.

Vincent used the towel to dry his back and chest, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the large bulge between his legs. My orgasm came like a hurricane. I moaned, loud, and my eyes fell shut from the overload of sensation. I spilled into my fist, my legs shaking and asshole clenching on nothing.

When I peeled my eyes open, Vincent was staring directly at me through the window, the towel bunched up in his hands. His face was fierce, jaw clenched.

He just