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His smile widens. “They’re so far away. And very busy. No way they’ll come this way.” He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Besides, I can be quick.”

“I don’t know,” I say, my heart pounding. The fear of being discovered mixes with arousal in a way that leaves me dizzy. “What if someone⁠—”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he taunts, and then he kisses me hard, his lips sealing against mine, and I can’t breathe.

His hands are in my hair, on my face, pulling me closer.

“God, I want you,” he breathes into my mouth.

“Okay,” I yield, and the word barely makes it out before he’s already unbuttoning my pants.

He spins me so I’m facing the tree, my palms pressed against the rough bark.

The texture bites into my fingers, rough and uneven, the ridges and furrows digging in.

He pulls my pants and boxers down to my thighs, and I gasp. The temperature is brutal, the winter air finding every inch of exposed skin, making me shiver.

“Lucien,” I start, but he’s already kicking my feet, spreading my legs farther apart. The action is slightly aggressive, reminding me for a minute of the old Lucien, from St. Silas.

I hear the click of the bottle cap. Then his fingertips are pressing against my hole, slick and warm. He moves in slow circles at first, gentle, spreading the lube. The duality of the cold air and the warmth of his hand is overwhelming.

The smell of pine, dirt, and dew surrounds us. Somewhere in the distance, I hear voices, faint, indistinct. My heart pounds with the fear of being caught, but Lucien’s hand on my hip steadies me.

“Baby?” he asks, his voice reverent. “Thank you.”

For what?

And then he’s inside me. One finger, and it burns.

I make another embarrassing sound, and he continues talking, his voice intimate.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says. “Just relax for me.”

He coats my hole while talking to me, telling me how much he wants me, that I’m so good for being patient. I’m so acutely aware of my need, and his, that I’ve been holding my breath. I let out a long exhale. The initial burn starts to fade as he works me open. The pressure increases with each motion, with each careful push. I feel the chill of more lube being applied to my hole, but it quickly warms as he fills me with it. He pushes in a second finger.

“Mmmm,” I groan as he pumps his fingers inside me. The burn has faded into something else, something good.

“Oh God, Cam,” he moans against the back of my neck.

I’m so turned on that my dick is leaking, occasionally catching friction against the tree as Lucien works me open.

He adds a third finger, and the stretch is immediate and intense. I gasp, my hands pressing harder against the bark.

“Breathe,” he says. “Just breathe through it.”

I do, and slowly, the pain fades. His fingers move inside me, scissoring gently, opening me. The slickness of the lube makes everything easier, smoother.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers.

I grip my cock with one hand, stroking once. The pleasure is overwhelming. The juxtaposition between Lucien’s fingers inside me and my hand on myself brings me close to orgasm.

The fullness is almost too much. I can feel every inch of him inside me, the stretch bordering on painful. But then he crooks his fingers slightly, and the pleasure bursts, spreading everywhere.

“Nnnhhh. Fuck,” I breathe.

His fingers inside me and my hand on the tree are the only things keeping me upright.

“There it is,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s what you need, baby.”