Confidences (9)



Shenanigans in an empty bunkhouse.

At supper, Puck grabbed my hand and pulled me around the corner of the main house, out of sight of the crowd of hungry people.

“That shit in the paddock today…almost killed me,” he said, before splaying his hand against my chest and attacking my mouth with his.

I wrapped my fingers around his forearm as I kissed him back, telling him with every fibre of my being that I couldn’t be good anymore. I needed him so badly. I was tired of waiting, and wanting, and touching simply to touch.

When we finally broke apart, the sound of our heavy breaths was loud in the evening air, while a subdued hum of conversation could be heard from around the corner.

“Tell me where,” I said, clutching at him.

“The bunkhouse. Nobody’s there right now.”

“What about my room. Upstairs?” I suggested, because it was closer, but that would blow our cover for sure.

“No. Follow me in about ten minutes. Pretend to get something to eat, then slip away. Can you do that?”

I nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Of course.”

He moved in and kissed me again, cupping the bulge in my pants as I groaned. Then he was gone.

When I came back around the corner of the main house, I almost bumped smack into Adam who pressed a drink into my hand. 

“Oliver! How are things going?” he asked.

I smiled, gripping my wrist casually so my hand covered the erection in my pants, in a way that hopefully didn’t seem too obvious. “Great! I’ve gotten some pretty amazing photographs over the past few days.”

“And are you feeling comfortable with things?”

“Sure. Yeah.” 

So comfortable, in fact, I was about to meet a ponyboy in the bunkhouse for shenanigans. If I could get away from Adam.

“Good. The pony show is on Saturday. I’m sure you’ll have lots of opportunities there for some incredible photos.”

“Can’t wait!” I said, praying for him to leave me alone.

He gestured to the table where food was being laid out. 

“Supper’s on. Don’t wait too long or it will all be gone,” he said, as he headed for the buffet.

I slunk around the corner again before anyone else could waylay me. I waited a few minutes, then casually started walking along the trail to the bunkhouse. I was tempted to look back, to see if anyone was watching, but I resisted the urge. Because I honestly didn’t fucking care at this point.

My pace increased the further I got from the main house. When I figured no-one could see me very well, I started jogging. My heart pounded and my entire body zinged with anticipation. I didn’t care if he wanted to fuck, or just do what we’d done last time. I was up for anything that let me get my hands on him, out of sight of anyone else on this crowded ranch.

The open door of the bunkhouse, normally closed to keep the bugs out and the cooler air inside, beckoned me once I got close enough to see it. I hastened forward and hurried up the steps, stopping dead when I saw Puck laid out on one of the bottom bunks, completely buck-fuck-naked, with his legs spread, knees bent, and his dick in hand.

“What took you so long?” he said, teasing the ring in his lip with the tip of his tongue and looking like an angel cast down from Heaven.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I said. “Don’t move. Fuck.”

“Close the door before the mosquitos get me,” he said. “And latch it.”

I did, then stood there—without my camera for once—memorizing every angle to store it in my memory. Each tiny mole on his pale skin—the way his bare feet rested on the mattress—the look in his hooded eyes as he gazed at me. His cock was the least interesting thing to me at that moment.

Then one knee fell to the side and he stretched out even more, displaying himself in the empty confines of the abandoned bunkhouse. Giving himself to me, in whatever way I wanted.

I ran trembling fingers through my hair. He let go of his dick. It dropped to his belly and left a smear of clear fluid behind as he trailed the fingers of one hand to the ring in his right nipple and tugged it.

I made a noise—half whimper, half moan—and moved forward, dropping to my knees on the floor beside him. Glancing briefly at his cock, which seemed very interested in whatever I might do, I put my hand on Puck’s throat, covering that slim, vulnerable spot with some very slight pressure, just to let him know I had him and he was mine.

He cursed softly and tilted his head toward me, lips parting in readiness. I captured his mouth with mine as a desperate, needy sound emerged from my throat. He opened beneath my questing tongue and gave me his, tentative and passive. He let me control the kiss, and that gave me the courage to continue. I wanted everything but I needed him to give it to me willingly.

I increased the pressure on his windpipe just enough to make him gasp and struggle, then I drifted my fingers down to his nipple ring, which I toyed with as he groaned and shuddered beneath me.

“Oliver. Jesus,” he gasped, “I need—“

“What? What do you want?”

“Fuck, anything. I’ll take anything. I’ll do anything.” 

He rose up on one elbow, pulling the T-shirt from my jeans and sliding his hand up my torso. Another curse left his lips.

I inhaled a shaky breath and released him, backing up. He watched me with blown pupils and a blatant curiosity that thrilled and satisfied me. When he was in the paddock his attention was on Kamal—now, I was his focus.

I sat myself down on the bunk across from his, and he frowned. 

“What are you doing?” He glanced at the door. “We don’t have much time.”

I pulled my T-shirt off over my head and threw it at him. “I only want to watch,” I said.

He blinked at me, as if I’d said something crazy. Which, maybe, I had. 



“Me? But you’ve already seen—“

I nodded. It was true, I’d seen so much already. But only as a secondary observer. This time I wanted it all for me.

“Jerk off into my shirt.”

He stared at me, then glanced down at the bunched up cotton beside him. “Fuck.”

Now. We don’t have much time, remember?”

“I thought you’d want to bone me.”

“I do want to bone you. But right now, I want to watch you jerk off, just for me.”

“But then—“

I stood up, popping the button of my jeans and sliding the zipper down. “Then you’re going to swallow my cock until you’re hard again.”

Then you’ll fuck me?”


His hand was on his dick in a second. I pulled my dick out and aimed it at him, smiling. “If you put on a good show, I won’t make you wait too long.”

He was already groaning as he pulled on himself, using his pre-ejaculate as lube. But he needed more slide. So I stepped over there, leaned over, and hocked up some spit, dribbling it onto his fingers.

“Oh…God,” he moaned, using my saliva to slick himself as I dropped another glob at the top of his balls. He scooped it up quickly, gazing at me with wide eyes as his breaths shortened. 

“Look at me,” I said. “Look at me when you come.”

I fell to my knees again, cock in hand, jerking myself slowly while I watched him. He was vulnerable and glorious in his self-pleasuring. In the paddock, Kamal had all the control. Now Puck took it, albeit under my directions, and it was beautiful to see him give himself the pleasure he craved.

“Oh yes, get yourself off, my beautiful, contrary ponyboy. Jerk that gorgeous cock for me.”

His hand flew on his dick, as his neck stretched out. His eyes closed.

“I’m close. Oh fuck, I’m close,” he panted, lips shiny from his tongue. He couldn’t stop moistening them.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

He did so, a dark flush spreading over his collarbone and rising to the tips of his ears.

“Say my name.”

Puck’s breath hitched, and he started to come as he groaned out, “Oliver! Oliver, ah, Oliver.”

I smiled, delighted to watch him satisfy himself with my name on his lips. He grabbed my t-shirt and pressed it against his cock as he continued to ride the aftershocks of his orgasm, pressing his face into the mattress and giving over to it.

I whipped off my shoes and shorts, leaving them on the bunk, and covered him with my body, kissing his neck and his shoulder as he sank, sated into the mattress.

“That was hot,” he whispered.

“So hot. That was incredible.”

I pressed my erection against the small of his back and he turned his head to me.

“You can fuck me,” he said.

I grinned. “I know.”

He didn’t reply, just arched his back and bumped up against me. “Will you?”

“Not today.” It was funny. I’d been so desperate to get Puck alone, but actually having intercourse was something I wanted to wait for. I didn’t want to do it on the fly, when we didn’t think we had much time. Somehow, some way, we’d find a place where we could take our time.

“What? Why not?”

But I didn’t say that, in case he thought I was being too romantic. Maybe all Puck wanted was a quick fuck against the wall. But I’d been there, and done that with other men, and something made me want to wait.

“I’m not ready. And I like making you wait.”

“Bastard. I hate you.” He splayed out beneath me, all fight gone, the afterglow of his orgasm making him soft and boneless.

“No you don’t,” I said, pushing my cock against his smooth buttock, leaving a wet trail, teasing him with it.

“You’re killing me.”

“You like it.”


“Getting hard again?”



He laughed, rolling over to show me. “See?”

“You are a perfect, beautiful little slut.”

“Fuck, Oliver. Say that again.”

I grinned and leaned down to lick over his jaw. “You are—“ I licked over his Adam’s apple, “A beautiful—“ I licked the perfect lobe of his ear, “little,” I licked the tip of his nose, making him laugh. I leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Slut.”

He groaned, arching up against me, almost fully hard again as he pulled at himself. “Fuuuuck. Shit.”

I sat back on my heels and waved my dick at him. “You want this?”

“Yeah,” he said, scrabbling to his knees and grabbing my chin as he kissed me, fierce and possessive, like he wasn’t completely at my mercy. He smiled against my mouth. “I like the way you talk.”

“Good. I like to tell you what to do.”

“Tell me what to do, now.”

I pushed gently on his shoulder, guiding him to my cock. “I want to fuck your mouth.”

“God. Okay.”

“I like to watch you choke on it.”

“You’re a pervert, Oliver,” he said, with a sigh.


“Between you and Kamal, I don’t know what to do.”

“Do what you’re told, Puck.”

“Oliver.” He sighed. And opened his mouth, as I guided my cock between his lips.

“Good boy.”

He choked a laugh, the vibrations riding my dick, making me groan and curse. I held him steady while I thrust into his hot, wet heat, his tongue flat and broad beneath me, his gaze holding mine.

“Oh, Jesus. Puck. Puck,” I stuttered, using him to pleasure myself, remembering everything I’d seen him do for Kamal and how he’d bristled and fought, but now was a pliant plaything for me. The power I seemed to have over him was a heady thing, and I knew he could withdraw it in an instant. The only hold I had on him was his desire for me. But that was enough. For now.

I thrust deeper, making him choke again, then once more, and came, gripping his shoulder and emptying into his willing throat as he made the most delicious sounds.

This time, he swallowed everything.

Finally, he pulled off and licked his lips, giving me the most lascivious grin as his hand drifted down to grab his erection.

“Mmm. So good,” I hummed.

I stared down at him as he lazily stroked himself, while I caught my breath and relished the quiet privacy of the bunkhouse.

I glanced at the door, then back at Puck. “How much time you think we have?”

He glanced at the door, too, and shrugged. “Maybe half an hour? If we’re lucky.”

I nodded. I knew what I wanted. 

“Get up and sit on the bunk.”

He cocked his head. “My, you get bossy when a boy lets you fuck his mouth.”

I gave a soft laugh and offered my hand to help him. “I like being bossy with you.”

“I noticed. Lucky I don’t mind.”

Very lucky.

Puck sat his bare ass on the bunk and leaned back, propping himself on one hand while he teased himself with the other and gazed up at me. 

“What do you want, Oliver?”

I didn’t answer, simply tucked myself away and dropped to my knees, sliding my hands along his thighs and over his hips as I leaned toward his dick.

He grinned, aiming it at me with his eyebrows arched. “This?” he whispered.


“You mean I don’t have to do it myself?”


He smiled slowly, increasing the rhythm of his strokes as I bent forward and kissed his dick softly on its glistening head.

Puck whimpered and his breath hitched again. “Oliver…”

I met his gaze and opened my mouth, engulfing his cock and swirling my tongue over it.

“Oh. Fuck,” he groaned, lowering his hand and leaning back on both arms now as he gave himself up to me. “Oh, God.” His hips moved unconsciously forward.

I wrapped my fingers around the base of his dick, holding it firmly as I used my tongue and jaw to force the most erotic, soul destroying sounds from him. He tasted of sweat and spunk and boy, those earthy notes pulling at me with sweet seduction as I went to town on him, clutching his hips to keep him still.

He still tried to thrust, but I increased the strength of my hold and he whined softly. The look of frustration on his face, warring with the bliss of having his dick sucked, entranced me. He stilled and suffered while I went at him–licking and sucking him everywhere, my tongue dipping down to his balls and taint before running up the underside of his cock again.

He pushed off his hands and curled forward, fingers circling behind my head and pushing me forward gently. He was tired of being the passive one and he let me know it by gripping my hair and controlling the movements of my head. 

I growled and increased my sloppy, drooling attack, relishing the sounds that came from his open mouth—more urgent and breathless as he approached his climax. Once I relaxed my grip on his hips, he began to fuck my face with abandon, holding my head still and pushing his cock to the back of my throat like I’d done to him moments ago.

Electric tingles coursed through me as I let him use me, until, with a cry, he stilled and emptied with a grunt. His grasp pulled at my scalp as I swallowed his release with satisfaction and triumph.

“Oh…my…fuck!” he gasped, his hold on my hair changing from a death grip to a caress as he came down from his ecstatic pleasure. I tightened my arms around his hips and sucked him through the waning of his orgasm until he squirmed and pushed me off.

“Stop. God, stop. Too much.”

I relinquished him with a sadness I felt to my toes because I knew the time we’d had together was about to run out. I lay my head on his thigh and closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of his fingers threading softly through my hair.

The bunkhouse was silent and still.

“Oliver,” he said, finally.

I looked up at him, my heart melting at how wrecked and serene he looked.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that. I thought he’d dismiss me with the excuse that the others would be back and I’d have to leave out of politeness and the logic of his request.

So I blinked in surprise and said, “Sure,” then stood shakily. I watched Puck pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then slide into his flip flops.

“I don’t have my suit,” I said.

“Good.” He winked. “Cause I’m not bringing mine.”

I smiled, wondering what we’d do if any of the other guys decided a swim would be nice. But, honestly, I didn’t really care. We were at a kink ranch, for God’s sake. Pretty sure everyone could handle a couple of bare asses and some satisfied junk hanging out.

We got out of the bunkhouse before anyone returned from the main house. Puck led me along another narrow trail through the woods, glancing back to make sure I was keeping up and, at one point, taking my hand to pull me gently along. He seemed excited to show me the beach, where I hadn’t as yet spent any time. 

I was simply happy to be with him.

“Come on. It’s not much farther.”


I felt like I was at summer camp, following an enchanting new friend through the woods to a secret spot, where we would sit and speak about daring things and giggle at how dumb we thought the straight boys were—that surreptitious sense of sharing something private and exciting. My friendships at camp had been innocent but intense, and I’d crushed on a few boys during those idylls. 

Now I was an adult, following my newest crush along a forrest path, after having gotten each other off in an empty bunkhouse on a pony-play ranch. The trees and insects were the only witnesses to our smug glances and secret smiles.

After a short time, we emerged to the wide expanse of the lake and a small strip of sand. The waning sun sparkled on the top of the water like diamonds. 

There was a floating dock about twenty feet out. Puck was already taking off his clothes. 

“Coming in?”

“Sure,” I said, getting naked quickly and following Puck into the cool water.

He waded in up to his hips, then put his arms together and dived forward, swimming out to the dock with bold, sure strokes.

I followed more slowly.

Puck glanced behind him with a grin. “Come on, Oliver. Keep up, will you?”

I smiled as I went deeper, the sand on the bottom of the lake squishing between my toes. I was a city boy at heart, and uneasy in open water. But the draw Puck had on me was strong, and I pushed past my discomfort and dived, swimming out to where he had pulled himself onto the floating platform.

If I’d needed motivation, the sight of Puck’s slim form as he heaved himself onto the undulating dock, sleek muscles bunching and releasing, water sluicing off his skin, hair slicked to his head, was enough.

He turned, standing there like Michelangelo’s David, his cock flaccid for once, hands on his hips, self-satisfied look on his face, watching me.

“Oh good, you can swim,” he said.

I gained the wooden edge of the platform and folded my arms, resting my chin on them, gazing up at him. Fuck. He was glorious. 

He crouched down, unashamed of his nudity—bits dangling right in front of me—as he patted the top of my head and clicked his tongue. “You kept up. Now, are you staying in there, or coming out?”

“Coming out. The water’s cold.”

“Poor Oliver. Come on, then.” 

He stood and gave me room to haul myself up and onto the platform. Puck sat down beside me, and we dangled our legs in the water, gazing back at the shoreline.

“This is…something,” I said, gesturing around us. The evening chorus of birds and insects lulled my already relaxed brain into a state of pure contentment. The fact I had a gorgeous boy beside me who seemed to enjoy my company made my surroundings that much more special.

But now we weren’t actively trying to fuck each other—for the moment—there was a lull in conversation.

Then Puck said, “I came here to get away from it all.”

I glanced at him, observing a crease in his forehead before he looked away and scratched at a spot above his knee.


He glanced back at me, assessing, maybe deciding if he wanted to continue—if he trusted me enough to share.

“Yeah.” He nodded. Then puffed a soft laugh. “I’m supposed to be in Munich.”

That was not what I had expected.

“What? Really?”

He swatted a fly away from his face. “I was supposed to go visit my brother. He’s a researcher at a hospital there.”

“Oh.” I waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, I probed gently. “You didn’t want to go?”

He shook his head. “I needed to be…by myself. Well, not by myself, obviously,” he gestured at me. “But away from the people who know about everything.”

I nodded, not understanding yet, but to show I was here for him. Since we had no connection beyond the BCR, maybe he felt he could unburden himself. I didn’t know whether to ask for clarification or just be quiet. I chose the easier option. And, after a little while, he started speaking again.

“My best friend…he’s so pigheaded,” Puck said quietly, shaking his head in frustration. “I told him the guy he was seeing was a dick, and he didn’t listen. This boy he liked—the loser he was obsessed with—was using, and so fucking irresponsible. I warned him, but he ignored me. Thought I was jealous or something, which is crazy.”

I listened to the hum of cicadas and the occasional call of a loon while I sat there, a listening ear for whatever he wanted to get off his chest.

“Fucker crashed the car they were in. This boy, this stupid, fucking kid, was on a cocktail of drugs and crashed the car, killing himself and landing my best friend in the hospital, fighting for his life.”

“Oh shit. That’s terrible.” My words sounded so ineffectual, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Is your friend…is he all right?”

“Depends on your definition of all right.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, everybody’s sorry. Doesn’t help.”

“Awe, Puck. Jesus.”

“Just let me talk. I haven’t talked about any of this. And I think I need to.”

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