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Epilogue

Mason

One Year Later

If you’d told me at the height of my modeling career that I’d be settling down and working on a pumpkin farm of all places, I would have said you were nuts.

Fast forward to now, a year after Jax’s life changed forever—and mine.

I am so blissfully happy at Gallagher’s Pumpkin Farm.

While Jax and Grandpa Robert handle the tilling and tractor work, I man the registers with Grandma Annie.

Annie and I discovered that we’re a great team, and we’re proud to boast that we could sell a whole bushel of pumpkins to an Appleseed.

Of course, Grandma being an Appleseed herself doesn’t hurt. Who knew that young love with a rival farmer’s daughter would have ended Robert’s curse a couple generations back.

Now that there’s another pair of Gallagher mates on the farm, Annie isn’t as bashful about showing off her mate mark.

We call them “vine tattoos” to the customers, just so we don’t weird anybody out, but yeah, she and I proudly sport our vine-ripened biceps for all the world to see.

Even when there’s a chill in the air, I have my sleeves rolled up.

There’s so little drama at the farm. No backstabbing like the modeling industry, and no small-town coffee shop stress like The Grind. Just peace and quiet—and maybe the occasional sneaky and literal roll in the hay.

Don’t worry; we make sure no pumpkins are harmed during our shenanigans. We both have gained a weird kind of respect for the gorgeous gourds.

Neither Jax nor I knew if the, er, side effects of his curse would remain after I broke it.

Sure, his cum still smelled and tasted like pumpkin spice on his birthday, but would that last or fade?

Would he still have the supernatural self-lubing cock, or would we need to invest in some bottled stuff?

Three hundred and sixty-four days straight, and the pumpkin spice is still strong with this one.

Test day number three sixty-five will commence after we close up at the farm tonight. I have something special planned for Jax’s thirty-second birthday.

Watching him pull in the tractor after a day on the fields gets me excited.

I can’t wait to help him unload the harvest and line the pumpkins up for tomorrow’s sale.

Every little touch, every stolen kiss in the cab of the tractor, every single chance I get to show this amazing man how much I love him is taken to its full advantage.

Grandma Annie declares Gallagher’s closed a couple hours before trick or treating starts, and Jax and I head back to my house to change into our costumes before the kids start showing up.

This year, I found the cutest Skeleton Jack suit and face paint to wear.

The vertical lines make me look even slimmer than normal—despite Annie’s best efforts, I haven’t put on much since I started working at the farm.

As an added bonus, there’s a secret tearaway panel for … later.

When I see Jax emerge from his wardrobe change in the roundest, goofiest pumpkin costume, I howl with laughter.

The thing looks like an old-school trick or treat pail, complete with suspender “handles” over the shoulders.

Hidden wires shape the fabric gourd, and my poor Jax has to struggle to get through the bedroom door and down the hall.

I have to rescue several of our more fragile Halloween decorations as he shuffles to the front door to set up on the porch.

Yeah, that’s right. I decorate now, though no carved pumpkins.

Those remain whole. But ceramics? Wall hangings?

Paintings? I never thought the word kitsch would apply to my house of all places, but here we are.

If it’s Halloween or pumpkin-related decor, I snatch it up, especially the pumpkin-shaped stuff.

Gotta represent my main squeeze in our home.

The kids have a blast taking candy from Jax and the Pumpkin King, and we keep a loop of The Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack playing just inside the house, where approaching kids can hear the classics, but not so loud that neighbors might complain.

After the last kids get their candy, Jax shoots me the most adorable look as we head inside. “Ready for movie night, baby?” he asks.

I smirk and point at his bulbous costume. “I don’t think that thing’s gonna fit on the couch, mister.”

Jax laughs. “Who says I’m going to keep this on all night?”

“Oh, if I have anything to say about it, you’re getting out of that ay-sap.” I try to go in for a kiss, but the costume’s wires hamper me. We share a laugh, and Jax starts to unhook his suspenders.

When the costume drops, revealing some sexy pumpkin-themed body paint, I let out a low whistle of appreciation.

He’s managed to outline and enhance those beefcake muscles I love so much with some clever orange-hued shading, and my man has painted a jagged black grin across his lower hips.

His pecs are painted with triangular black “eyes,” and the goofball wiggles his shoulders to make the painted eyebrows across his collarbone wiggle.

One guess what he used to make the nose.

I bite my lip to hold in more laughter. “Uh, baby, are you dressing as a pumpkin or as Pinocchio? Because your, er, nose is growing.”

He palms his orange-painted cock with a wink. “Well, I haven’t lied to you yet, and I’m not about to start now.”

Not one to be outdone on the theatrics, I lead Jax to the living room and sit him down on the couch for a special show of his own.

I stop the music and queue up the first song, This Is Halloween , for an exclusive striptease event.

I’ve done enough charity auction events for wealthy women in my modeling days that I know how to strip, and from the look in Jax’s green eyes when I start pumping my hips, he appreciates the show.

Wait ‘til he sees the big reveal.

Just as the song is announcing Jack, the Pumpkin King, I grip the fabric at the back of my suit and rip the whole thing off in one smooth motion.

Jax’s jaw drops, but I keep dancing. At this point, we’re both equally naked, and equally painted. My paint is more in line with the Jack Skellington costume, so I’m covered in white and grey paint.

Edible paint.

“Oh, Bone Daddy, you’d better come over here before I pumpkin spice your couch!”

I dance across the living room, dick bouncing with each pelvic thrust. Jax’s eyes bounce right along with it, watching its every movement. When I get close enough, he reaches for it, but I twist at the last second, teasing him.

“Hey!” He grins, ruining his chiding tone. “I need that!”

“Uh-uh-uh!” I grab his chin. “Use your mouth.”

Jax opens wide, and I stop my dance to give him a taste of the vanilla-flavored paint I’m covered in. He swallows me down hungrily, not stopping until I hit the back of his throat. I try to back away, give him some breathing room, but he grabs my hips and pulls, holding me firm.

Something about the mess he’s making—the saliva mixed with tears mixed with body paint—combines with the slurping and sucking noises to make me even harder than I already was.

I slide my fingers into his hair and grip tight, slowly and gently thrusting into him.

It’s hard to take it easy when all I really want to do is rut into him, but I’ll save that for later …

… When I have him bent over the arm of the couch.

Jax makes short work of getting me off, sucking and licking until I shudder to a halt balls-deep inside his mouth. He does his best to swallow it all down, but my cum ends up dripping down his chin. I bend to kiss him and help him clean it up, gently pulling him to his feet as we make out.

It’s time for our favorite part of movie night.

Now, I don’t know if this will change as time goes on, or if, like the pumpkin spice, it’s just a part of our mating. All I know is that we have yet to actually finish a movie that we’ve started watching together at home.

I run my free hand along Jax’s shaft, coating my fingers in his magical pumpkin lube. Once I have him turned around, I guide him into bending over the arm of the couch. He snags a few pillows to cushion his stomach, and as soon as he’s in position, I ease my damp fingers into his ass.

Jax moans, biting into one of the pillows he’s amassed.

I pump my hand a few times to prep him, then use the rest of his pumpkin spice to coat my dick before I start.

I inch inside him bit by bit, massaging his firm, round cheeks as I do.

He clenches up at first, but eventually he gives in and relaxes into me.

Since this night is special, I take my time. Sure, I have money to get Jax a gift this year—the farm’s profits are popping since my declaration of love went viral—but I know our time together is priceless, and nothing I can find on the shelves or online even comes close to this.

To us.

Keeping one hand on his hip, I reach around to Jax’s front and grab his cock. I stroke and caress it while I fuck his ass, providing him as much stimulation as I can. My man deserves the best.

His hard dick throbs in my touch, and he whimpers and moans into the pillow.

Orange paint is getting everywhere, but I don’t care.

If it’s the same brand I bought, it’ll come out—eventually.

Besides, what’s a little smeared paint in the grand scheme of things?

Jax is here and alive and human, and that’s more important than pristine upholstery.

“More.”

His plea reaches my ears and spurs me into action.

I squeeze his dick harder as I start to thrust into him faster.

Jax’s cries get louder and louder, and he clenches his hands into fists on the pillow.

I marvel at the hard lines of his back as I ride him, appreciating the muscles farm life has given him.

“Just a little more Jax. Hang on, baby. I’m almost there.”

My balls slap against his from behind. The rhythmic slap, slap, slap echoes over the sound of whatever fucking movie I put on. I don’t even remember at this point. I glance up from the stunning view and realize I never even started a movie. It’s just the soundtrack playing.

Shit, that’s got to be a new record.

With one hand on his slippery, hard dick, I lean forward just the slightest, grasping his chin with my fingers. Grey vanilla paint smears along his chin, mixing with the orange paint as he parts his lips, gazing up at me with big green eyes.

I crash my lips against his in a heated, slow kiss, and not long after, the scent of pumpkin spice permeates the air as my hand fills with a fresh bout of Jax’s cum, and I, too, detonate like a pumpkin spice bomb.

Jax groans into my mouth, his entire body melting beneath mine as we both shudder with ecstasy and a deep warmth spreads within me.

When I break away, I smirk at his verdant gaze, little flecks of gold glittering with love.

For me.

Jax shifts underneath me, which is my cue to move, and I do. The music starts over on the television as Jax turns over, leaning against the couch.

He settles a large hand on my hip as he grins.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m a mess,” he chuckles, squeezing my hip softly. “I could use a shower.” My cock, still dripping with fresh release, slides against his, and I can’t help but shake my head as a mischievous grin spreads.

“Such a dirty little pumpkin.”

Jax chuckles. “You know it.”

I sigh, knowing it’s best not to fight him. He is the birthday boy, after all, and getting clean is almost as fun as getting dirty.

Almost.

So I let him pull me down the hall, into the shower, where we touch and kiss until the water runs cold, and once we’re both in our respective fluffy bathrobes do we finally settle down and attempt to watch our movie.

We make it to the part where Jack decides he’s going to be Santa Clause, and I turn to him with a raised eyebrow, watching as he stuffs his face full of buttered popcorn.

“What?” he asks, mid stuff.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking that maybe this Christmas we could do something.”

Jax narrows his eyebrows at me. “Please don’t tell me you want to dress up as Santa,” he says.

“Then I won’t tell you,” I taunt him. He throws some popcorn at me, and I pull him closer, planting a kiss in his hair.

We don’t make it to the end credits, mostly out of exhaustion, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason. But that’s okay. Because as far as I’m concerned, Jax is my favorite movie, and I never want it to end.

And because of a curse—a curse, which I broke, thank you very much—it never has to.

Jax’s eyes flutter as he starts to drift off with a groan.

“What?” I yawn.

“We didn’t finish the movie,” he laments sleepily against my arm.

“There’s always next Halloween, baby.”

“Next Halloween,” he sighs as he falls asleep, leaving me with the warmth and happiness I have always dreamed of.

I look forward to next Halloween, and every day after and in between.