Page 16 of The Key Holder

I glanced at him. His eyes were still fixed on the scrolling words, a strange tension in his posture.

"Good movie," I said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Dylan replied, his voice a little tight. He finally looked at me and smiled half-heartedly.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” I placed a hand on his shin, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but the words caught in my throat.

“A little better,” he answered.

“You want some help getting to your room?” I asked, standing up and stretching again. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“I wish I were confident I could actually make it, but I’d hate to fall and have to crawl the rest of the way.”

I nodded. “Understandable.”

Dylan pivoted, tenderly touched his injured foot down, and reached out for me.

Our proximity as I helped him into his room made me regret wearing sweatpants with no underwear. I hoped he didn’t notice that my cock was half-hard.

There was no question about it now, no wondering. After a few days together in our remote family cabin, I was at least somewhat turned on by my former stepson.

Not that I could really do anything about it.

"Night," Dylan said, who had returned to not meeting my gaze.

"Night," I replied, a flicker of unease settling in my gut as I closed his door. As I headed up the stairs to my room, my fingers absent-mindedly found the key and played with it.

Once in my room, I stripped my clothes off and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Catching sight of the necklace in the mirror, I had a thought. What if the key was actually Dylan’s and he didn’t want to tell me? Maybe that’s why he was acting strange?

But what could it go to?

Sliding under the covers, the sheets were refreshingly cool against my skin. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t get the image of Dylan’s smooth butt out of my head. My dick certainly hadn’t forgotten either.

For whatever reason, my mind chose this moment to replay the years-old memory of Dylan jerking off while holding my jockstrap to his face. It wasn’t something easily forgotten. All the tension I had been feeling wasn’t just the lingering angst of the past; there was something else, something new.

I rolled onto my back, letting my right hand drift down, tracing the line of my hip. Like a moth to a flame, my mind went there.

Remembering the feel of his skin beneath my fingers, and the way he flinched when I touched him. With no protest from my conscience, I conjured a fantasy Dylan. His eyes, vulnerable, seeking attention, his lips parted. The slender curves of his body beneath me, flexible and begging to be taken.

My hand moved faster, the friction building heat. I imagined him moaning my name, his body pressing against mine, asking for more. It didn’t take me long.

“Fuck.”

After the expected wave of euphoria, cum erupted out of my dick, coating my abs. It was more than normal, considering it had been a few days. When he walked in on me the other night, I hadn’t finished. With my heart pounding and my breath ragged, I just laid there, completely satisfied.

I was so fucked.

The darkness of the room couldn’t hide the image of Dylan’s smiling face. It lingered in my mind as I wiped the cum out of my belly button with my hand and licked it. I was too wrecked to head to the bathroom to wipe it off; swallowing was cleaner anyway.

I should be worried that I just whacked off while thinking of Dylan, but I wasn’t.

A strange calm came over me instead as the familiar pull of sleep welcomed me into its peaceful arms.

Unsurprisingly, Dylan was still asleep when I got up. I doubted he’d be able to stand long enough to cook breakfast, so I skipped my morning run and decided to make it for him today. It was either the sizzling of the bacon or the smell of freshly brewed coffee that enticed him to finally join me.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

I looked over to find Dylan rubbing his eyes in full bed-head mode, wearing one of those muscle tanks where your nipples hang out and I assumed—after a second glance—shorts. The tank was so long I almost couldn’t tell.