Page 88 of The Key Holder

“Of course,” Ford said, his voice warm. “It’s your family’s cabin.”

“And we’re all family now,” I added, giving Ford’s hand a squeeze.

She seemed to hesitate, her gaze lingering on our joined hands, then asked, "Are you sure it’s not an imposition? I should’ve called, but I didn’t want to have to explain over the phone. Some things are just better in person."

"Not at all," I said, feeling more at ease than I had anticipated. “There’s plenty of room.”

“And a brand new bed,” Ford added.

More than once at dinner, I caught Ford's eye across the table and our mutual smiles felt celebratory instead of secret. The afternoon, once loaded with potential tension, had transformed into an effortless evening of food and family. Echoes of our rushed conversation in the kitchen filled me with a newfound happiness: Ford wanted to stay together. This wasn’t just a summer fling.

I still couldn’t believe my luck.

Later that night, we laid nestled together in bed, the cabin quiet except for the distant chirping of various nighttime creatures.

"Just so we're clear," I murmured, pressing a kiss to Ford's shoulder. "We are not having sex tonight. I love your cock, but I’m not going to ride it while my mom's downstairs."

“Okay.”

Okay? Where was the sarcastic quip? The teasing? I lifted my head, trying to read his expression in the dim light. He just looked...content.

“Since you’re such an expert at penile manipulation,” he said, his voice laced with feigned innocence, “how about you beat me off instead?”

“I knew that was coming!” I laughed softly, giving his nipple a playful pinch.

“Well, we’re certainly not cumming with your attitude.”

“Are you manipulating me into jacking you off?” I asked, though my hand was already inching lower.

“Is that your hand on my dick?” he countered, his voice a low, teasing growl.

“Maybe.” I felt the familiar hardness spring to life beneath my fingers.

There were some things I just couldn’t resist.

21

Ford

The pre-dawn silence of the cabin was a familiar comfort as I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Dylan's peaceful sleep beside me, as the last of the night’s moonlight painted the bedroom in a soft bluish gray. I pulled on a jockstrap, my running shorts and a light shirt, then headed down the stairs barefoot, socks and shoes in hand. The air had a crisp bite to it as I laced up my shoes on the porch and did a few stretches. Tendrils of mist crept out from the surrounding woods but stopped before they reached the cabin, almost as if an invisible shield was protecting it from their imaginary grasp.

Starting my jog, I headed down the winding road leading back to civilization, focusing on the rhythmic crunch of my feet on the gravel. A lot had happened yesterday, and this was meant to be a quick session, out and back, to clear my head and prepare for the day. I pushed myself, enjoying the familiar burn in my lungs and the quiet solitude of the awakening forest.

By the time I returned, the sky was the color of a muted golden rose. My body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat and my muscles were pleasantly strained. Downstairs, the kitchen was still dark and cool. I moved with practiced efficiency, downing two glasses of water and starting a fresh pot of coffee. Its rich aroma soon began to fill the room, a silent invitation to those still sleeping.

Next, I pulled out the griddle and a skillet, setting both to heat while I prepared pancake batter from scratch, humming Queen’s “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” under my breath. With the first pancakes cooking, the sizzle of sausage links hitting the pan soon followed. By the time the sun had risen, the kitchen was alive with the comforting scent of a stack of golden pancakes waiting to be devoured.

After pulling the last of the sausage out of the pan, I heard the creak of floorboards from upstairs, and a murmur of voices down the hall. Melissa was the first to appear, pulling her hair into a ponytail, a surprised smile spreading across her face as she saw what I had done.

“Morning! How did you sleep?”

“Great. This looks amazing. Thank you, Ford.”

Brian followed, looking equally pleased, and then Dylan came down the stairs, still a little rumpled from sleep, but wearing the Coyote tank top and shorts I gave him. With a soft, affectionate look in his eyes, he came over to me for a kiss.

“Mmmm. Good morning to me.” I flipped the last pancake with a flourish.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, punctuated by the clinking of forks on plates, the sound of slurping syrup, and the occasional murmur of conversation, but soon enough, it was time for goodbyes. Melissa and Brian were meeting friends in Duluth. The atmosphere was filled with mixed emotions. On the one hand, it was good to see them, and even better that Melissa was so accepting of us. On the other, Dylan had made this cabin feel like a home for me, and I wanted to savor all the time we had left here, even if we planned on staying together.