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“I was talking about the one in your pants.”
“You mean this one?”
“Oh my God. Are you ever soft?”
“Sorry, but you started talking about hitting my spot. What did you think would happen?”
“Yeah, fair.”
Artair grinned. “Should I put it away?”
“Now, now,” said Luca, licking his lips. “Let’s not be hasty.”
“Ugh,” huffed Luca, collapsing belly-first onto the log by the popping fire.
The big trunks had become like comfortable couches in a cozy den. This particular one—the same one that he and Artair had first kissed on—had been so well sat on in recent times that the fall didn’t even hurt, the soft bark cushioning his flumph like pounds of foam padding.
And then . . . nothing happened.
In place of the deep-voiced response he’d anticipated came nothing but the heat-slowed song of the cicadas, humming to the low, pink dusk.
That melody was soon joined by the warm, ticklish slurps at his fingertips, as Bowie gratefully licked the hike sweat off him. That lap-lap-lap mixed with the ever-babbling stream and the cooling remnants of Luca’s own breaths.
But what they weren’t joined by was any response from the campsite’s owner.
“Ugh!” he said, louder this time, still staring at the blades of grass a few inches from his nose.
And there was still no response.
Luca dragged his head up.
There was no one around. The campsite was empty.
Only then did he hear the rumble of Artair snoring in his tent.
Luca rolled off and threw open the thick canvas flaps. “Ugh!” he said, a third and definitive time.
“I’m awake!” said Artair, snapping upright.
Artair’s hair was a great tangled mess after two months without a haircut. One of his eyes was still fully closed, the other flickering half open. He was wearing a tight-fitting singlet and nothing on the bottom. And for the first time in a long time, his dick was soft.
That only lasted about ten seconds, until the big, blinking bear rebooted his brain and properly noticed him. First came his dopey, sleepy smile. Then came an instinctual sproing between his legs.
“Hi there,” said Artair. “You were late, so I had a nap.”
Luca crossed his arms—angry at the world, not him. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
“Nawww. Why so grumpy?”
Luca blew out his lips and collapsed belly-first onto the mattress. “The article is being a complete prick. I wrote for like nine hours today and got nowhere. That’s a whole week of wasted time.”
Artair moved around, rubbing his beard against Luca’s shoulders. Slowly, he moved it down Luca’s spine and hips, finally coming to a rest on Luca’s ass. “Wanna talk about it?” he said, kissing Luca softly on each cheek.
“No,” said Luca, extending his hips, inviting more of the warm attention. His hand was instinctively filled by the fat, cut bear cock, swollen and already pulsing behind him.
“Want me to fuck the cum out of you so hard you forget your own name?”
“Fuck yes,” Luca groaned as Artair slid his tongue between the cheeks.
