Page 14

Chapter fourteen

Sawyer

Clayton woke nestled with Sawyer, the morning sun shimmering off his ginger hair, and he leaned down, kissing it gently.

Sawyer’s eyes were wide open. “I enjoy waking up with you,” he whispered.

“We’re boyfriends now.”

“We really are?”

Clayton nodded. His cock pitched toward Sawyer’s.

“Can I suck your cock?” Sawyer leaned on his side.

“I have a better idea for the time being.” Clayton reached around Sawyer and tugged out the butt plug, setting it on his backpack next to the sleeping bag.

Sawyer rolled over to lie on his back, staring at the soft curve of the tent’s ceiling, the wall fabric nudging him with the breeze. Outside was eerily quiet save for the distant chirping of crickets and the slow, even rhythm of Clayton’s breathing beside him. Clayton rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow.

His heart beat faster than it had any right to for a man lying still. He could feel the warmth of Clayton’s arm near his, almost touching but not, and every nerve in his body was perfectly attuned to the distance between their bodies.

“I don’t think I have ever been this happy,” Sawyer whispered, almost in reverence.

Clayton’s face was tender with love. “Yeah?” he murmured.

Sawyer swallowed, his throat going dry. He wasn’t used to speaking like this aloud—to anyone. But this morning, it was different. Maybe it was the way the sun seemed to wrap around them like a cocoon or maybe it was just the way Clayton was looking at him, as if he was all that mattered in that moment, as though all the world was made to be seen in him.

“Yeah,” Sawyer breathed. “I don’t think I even knew I could feel this way.”

Clayton caressed him, soft and slow, as if he wanted Sawyer to have every opportunity to turn back. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he leaned into the touch, Clayton’s fingers skimming his cheek, warm and certain.

“I care about you, Sawyer,” Clayton replied, his voice firm, deliberate. “More than I thought I would ever care about anyone.”

Sawyer closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. When he reopened his eyes, Clayton remained, waiting. Always waiting.

“I care about you too,” he said, the words a whisper, but no less true.

Clayton smiled then—small, barely there, but real. He leaned in just a little, and Sawyer met him, their foreheads against each other, breath intermingling in the surrounding silence. It wasn’t a race; there was no hurry. Just the heat of the moment, the insistent pulse of something they couldn’t name but which each of them understood.

And then Clayton’s fingers brushed lower, skimming the line of Sawyer’s jaw, tilting his chin up a little. Their lips met, soft and searching, a tentative press that deepened quickly as Sawyer melted against him. Clayton’s palm slipped to the back of his head, fingers wound through his hair, pulling him in closer. The kiss was slow, rich with promises.

Sawyer’s hands shook as they lay against Clayton’s chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips. It grounded him, made all of this real in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Clayton drew him in closer still, their bodies melding in the quiet, sacred space of the tent.

Clayton’s fingers ran down Sawyer’s back, his touch comforting and electric. Every gesture was slow, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. Sawyer felt Clayton’s skin against his and shivered, not from the cold, but from the gravity of the moment—the tenderness in Clayton’s gaze. No hesitancy now, just the calm certainty that this was right. He watched Clayton put on a condom, then generously lube it. He turned Sawyer onto his stomach and slicked his entrance.

“Are you ready for me, Sawyer?”

“Yes. Please.”

Sawyer was led by instinct, by faith. His breath caught when Clayton murmured his name, reverent and full of something deep, something that made Sawyer’s heart hurt in the best way. Hands wandered, every touch a vow, a promise.

Time became meaningless, their borders all but dissolved in the heat of the moment, the quiet intimacy of lips against skin and murmured affection shared under the filtering sun. When Clayton went inside him, it was not only passion—it was safety, cherishing, understanding. Sawyer let go of himself to Clayton; surrendering to someone who treated him as though he was something sacred.

Clayton thrust in and out lazily with light presses, brushing against Sawyer’s prostate each time. Sawyer had read about that sensitive spot and now he was melting, unraveling in ecstasy.

They came close together because of the constant friction. Sawyer’s first time. Clayton didn’t just engage in the physical act of taking Sawyer, he connected with him on a deep and emotional level.

As they finally lay entwined, bodies curved into the close quarters of the tent, Sawyer exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Clayton planted a lingering kiss on his temple as his fingers continued to trace calming patterns on Sawyer’s back.

“That was so powerful,” Clayton hummed, his voice thick with emotion. “I feel like I’ve never been happier than now too.”

Sawyer smiled and closed his eyes, and with the warm heaviness of Clayton pressing against him, their breathing fell into sync. Outside, the world kept turning. But in the tent, in the quiet between understated loving words and gentle touches, there were just the two of them.

“It felt amazing. It was everything I had dreamed of. And you made that happen, Clayton. I’ll never forget our shared moment. My first time.”

“I won’t either.” Clayton scooped Sawyer into his arms again, both falling back asleep.

A few hours later, still warmed by the morning sunlight on their skin, Clayton pushed Sawyer playfully with a drowsy smile. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s wash off.”

They dressed in jeans only. Sawyer raised an eyebrow but trailed behind as Clayton led him out of the tent and toward the lake, ripples of silver glinting on the surface. No one was around. This had to be why Clayton chose this location. Clayton peeled off his jeans without hesitation and walked into the water, which lapped at his waist, and turned back with a provocative grin to Sawyer.

Sawyer hesitated just a moment before stripping and stepping into the icy embrace of the lake. The water stood in sharp contrast to the heat still buzzing below his skin, but it felt good, cleansing. Clayton made his way to Sawyer, slinging an arm around him, pulling him in. They floated together beneath the sun, quiet, happy.

They splashed back to the shore after a while, gasping and chuckling as they put their clothes on. Clayton tousled Sawyer’s wet hair, then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. They walked back to the tent, hand in hand, their bodies cooled but their hearts still warm. After they changed into dry clothes, Clayton set up a station outside to brush their teeth and comb their hair.

“Ready for breakfast?”

“Starving.”

Sawyer kicked a loose rock off the dirt path and followed its tumbling path down the slope. “Are we late for breakfast?”

A few paces in front, the departing Clayton turned back with a grin. “No, breakfast is in ten minutes. We’re right on time. And after breakfast, today’s activities include a hike and rowboat racing.”

“That sounds fun.”

Clayton laughed, the sound mixing with the rustling trees around them. Sunlight dappled the forest floor as it filtered through the canopy overhead. The air was scented with pine, and other conversations sounded nearby. It would have been serene, but Sawyer kept falling over stuff.

Clayton must have felt it because he slowed and extended his hand. “C’mon, before you’re face down in the dirt.”

Sawyer rolled his eyes, but he took it, his fingers curling around Clayton’s. “If I go down, you better plan to go down with me.”

“Go down?” Clayton laughed, squeezing his hand and continuing to walk, their steps falling into rhythm.

The mess hall was not far now. A distant hum of voices and clatter of dishes filtered through the trees. Sawyer’s stomach growled at the thought of food, and Clayton laughed.

“You’re like a human GPS for food.”

“Damn right.” Sawyer grinned. “And my internal compass says we’re nearing the finish line.”

Mark and Rowan appeared on the path’s fork.

“Hey, you guys!” Rowan said.

“Morning,” Sawyer said. “Where’re Malik and James?”

“They had breakfast duty, so they’re cooking. We have it tomorrow morning,” Rowan said.

Sawyer noticed Clayton and Mark communicated without words, but everything seemed okay between them. When his brothers were angry at him, they wouldn’t even look in his direction for weeks. Their silence had cut him deeply, a sharp ache in his chest. He’d never forget those desperate, lonely times.

As they emerged from the woods onto the path toward the mess hall, Clayton squeezed his hand one last time, then released it.

“Race you to the door?” Clayton said, already preparing to launch himself into the air.

Sawyer hardly had time to react before Clayton was off and running. “Hey, that’s cheating!” he yelled, chasing after him.

Clayton just laughed, and Sawyer decided that if every walk turned out like this, perhaps the woods weren’t so bad after all.