Snowed in with my sister’s boyfriend in a remote Colorado cabin, I learned there are worse things than sharing heat. The wind howled like it wanted in. Snow slammed against the windows, thick drifts piling halfway up the glass. Somewhere deep in the woods of Colorado, a storm had locked us inside this creaking old cabin with nothing but firewood, cheap whiskey, and time. I crouched near the fireplace, fingers stiff and red, trying to get the feeling back. My jeans were soaked from trudging through snow, my skin cold to the touch.

Jack dropped his jacket with a grunt, wet and heavy. His dark hair clung to his forehead, jaw rough with stubble. The long-sleeved thermal he wore was damp, stretched tight over his chest and shoulders, every muscle shifting as he rubbed at his arms. He caught me staring. Didn’t say anything.

He’s 26. Six-two. Built like a guy who fixes his own shit. Hazelnut eyes, always serious. That kind of quiet confidence that makes people lean in when he speaks. And me? Nate Carter. Twenty-two. Five-eleven, lean, a little wiry. Dark blond hair that won’t stay down. Sharp blue eyes, pale skin that freckled easy. The kind of face that always looks younger than it should, until you get close.

He’s my sister’s boyfriend.

"Jesus," Jack muttered, stepping closer to the fire. "This fucking storm."

"Yeah," I said. I was still shivering.

He frowned. "C’mere." Before I could think, his hands were on me. Big, rough palms gripping my upper arms, rubbing hard to generate heat. He pulled me closer to the fire. Closer to him.

His touch lingered. His eyes did too. Something flickered between us, a pause that said more than it should’ve.

I swallowed. "Thanks."

But he didn’t let go.

The fire popped beside us. The cabin creaked under the weight of the storm. Jack sat close, his thigh brushing mine every time he shifted. He rubbed at his arms and muttered, "Still cold."

Without thinking, I said, "Turn around."

Jack looked over his shoulder. Not confused. Just curious. Then he turned slowly, offering his back. His shirt was still damp, clinging to the broad stretch of muscle. I slid my hands onto his shoulders, thumbs digging in. He tensed under my touch, then exhaled, low and long, like he’d been holding it in too long.

"You’re good at that," he murmured, voice rough.

"Yeah, well," I said, letting my thumbs slide a little lower, "I’ve been thinking about your back for hours."

He made a sound. Not quite a laugh. But not a no either. My hands drifted down, brushing his ribs, skimming the waistband of his sweats. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

Then Jack turned his head just enough to catch my eyes, his breath brushing my lips. "This is a bad idea," he said, voice quiet but hard.

"I know," I replied.

But neither of us pulled back. When we kissed, it was slow and uncertain. Then deeper. Hungrier. His mouth opened under mine, his hand sliding into my hair, pulling me closer. My cock throbbed, trapped hard against my thigh.

He broke the kiss for a second, just long enough to breathe out, "We stop now, or we don’t stop at all."

I didn’t say a word. I just kissed him again.

Jack’s hands slid under my shirt like he’d been holding back since the moment we got stuck in this fucking cabin. He pulled it up slowly, palms dragging heat across my cold skin. Once it was over my head, he tossed it aside and yanked off his own like he couldn’t stand to wait. His chest was broader than I’d realized, dark hair spread unevenly across his pecs, tapering down his stomach in a rough line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. His skin was flushed and damp, muscles tight like he was trying to keep control and already failing.

Our bare chests pressed together. The fire roared beside us. My cock throbbed between us, trapped and aching. Jack leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

"Shit," he muttered, voice rough. "I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing."

I did. I knew exactly what we were doing.

I slid my hand down and gripped him through his sweats. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy. It strained against the fabric, hot and twitching. I tugged the waistband down and watched as his cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach.

It was fucking gorgeous. Eight inches at least, uncut, the foreskin pulled back to reveal a swollen, flushed head. Veins traced the length of the shaft, and his balls hung low and full beneath, coated in dark, curly hair that clung slightly from sweat and heat. He smelled like smoke, whiskey, and something purely male.

My sister’s boyfriend.

I should’ve felt something. Guilt, maybe. Shame. But all I could think was that she had no idea what he looked like like this. What it felt like to have his cock pulsing in your hand.

"She doesn’t know what she’s missing," I murmured.

Jack’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and unreadable. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, I dropped to my knees.

His cock bumped my cheek, slick with precum. I wrapped my hand around the base and dragged my tongue along the underside, slow and deliberate. Jack sucked in a breath, loud and ragged, his hand gripping the back of my head before he caught himself.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You’re really."

"Yeah," I said, staring up at him. "I am."

I opened my mouth and took him in. The head hit the back of my throat and I gagged once, then adjusted, letting him slide deeper. His cock filled my mouth, thick and hot, and he moaned above me, low and broken.

"You think about her now?" I asked, my voice muffled around his cock.

Jack groaned, head tipping back. "Don’t."

I sucked harder.

He stared down at me like I was something dangerous. Something he wasn’t supposed to want, but already did. Then he hauled me up, breathing hard, and shoved me back down onto the bear rug. My cock slapped against my stomach, leaking. Seven and a half inches, pale and smooth, uncut like his. Slight upward curve, skin flushed and tight. I caught him staring at it like he couldn’t believe what we were doing.

He dropped to his knees between my legs, firelight catching the sweat on his skin.

And then his mouth was on me.

Jack dropped to his knees between my legs like he didn’t care what that meant anymore, like something in him had snapped. He stared at my cock, hard and flushed, a thick bead of precum slicking the head. Then he looked up at me, eyes dark and heavy.

"Fuckin’ hell," Jack muttered. "Look at you."

He wrapped his hand around my shaft, thumb swiping over the tip. I twitched under his touch.

"Seven and a half inches of forbidden cock," I breathed, voice thick. "Think she’d be proud of you?"

Jack growled low in his throat. "She’d fucking kill me."

"Then don’t stop," I whispered.

And he didn’t.

His mouth closed over the head of my cock, hot and wet and hungry. I gasped as his tongue swirled around the ridge, then flattened under the head before he sucked me deeper. His stubble scraped against my skin, the drag of it raw and filthy.

"Jesus, fuck," I moaned, my hips jerking into his mouth.

His lips stretched wide around my shaft, spit pooling at the corners. He sucked slow at first, then deeper, faster. One hand gripped my thigh, the other cradled my balls, fingers rolling them gently before sliding lower.

Then his mouth popped off with a wet gasp. He looked up, lips shiny, eyes wild.

"Bet you taste like sin," Jack said.

"Wanna find out?" I asked, breathless.

He didn’t answer. Just pushed my knees up and leaned in. His tongue dragged from the base of my cock down to my taint. I gasped, fingers curling in the rug.

He licked lower, slower, locking eyes with me as he reached my hole and then he buried his face in my ass.

"Fuck!" I shouted, my whole body tightening.

His tongue pressed into my hole, circling, teasing, then pushing in deep. He moaned into me, breath hot and wet. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider.

"You like licking your girlfriend’s little brother’s ass?" I panted, voice shaking.

Jack pulled back just enough to growl, "You like getting tongue-fucked by the guy she fucks every night?"

"Yes," I hissed. "I want your mouth everywhere."

He dove back in, tongue fucking me like he needed it, starving for it. The slick heat of him, the filthy sounds, the wrongness of it, twisting into raw pleasure.

"Goddamn," he muttered into me. "You’re tight even here. Bet your ass squeezes cock like a fucking fist."

"Then give me yours," I begged, voice shaking.

Jack groaned, almost breaking, and pulled back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His jaw was flushed and wet.

"You sure?" he rasped. "You want your sister’s boyfriend to fuck you?"

"Do it, Jack. I want your filthy cock inside me."

He didn’t wait.

Jack knelt between my legs, breathing like he’d just run a mile. His cock hung thick and heavy, still glistening from my mouth. I watched as he spit into his hand twice, then wrapped it around his shaft, stroking slowly, coating every inch in slick.

"You ever had a cock in you before?" he asked, eyes fixed on my hole.

I shook my head, legs wide open. "No. But I want yours."

He groaned like the words hit him straight in the spine. "Fuck me..."

Leaning forward, he spat directly onto my hole, then rubbed it in with two fingers, slow circles that made my hips twitch. My breath caught. My whole body felt like a live wire.

"Relax," he muttered, voice low. "Breathe."

I tried. But the moment his cock pressed against me, thick, blunt, hot. My muscles locked up. He pushed anyway. Slow, unrelenting, deeper.

"Jesus..." I gasped, my head tipping back.

The stretch was insane. It burned, lit me up, cracked something open inside me. Inch by inch, he slid in. I could feel every vein, every pulse, until his balls kissed my ass and he held there, fully buried.

"Goddamn," Jack groaned, both hands gripping my hips like he needed them to stay grounded. "You’re tight as fuck."

I could barely speak. "So... fucking big..."

"Say it again," he growled.

"You’re big, Jack. Thick as hell."

That made him snarl. He started to move in long, dragging strokes that pushed deep inside me, slow at first, then rougher, hungrier. My back arched against the rug, fingers clawing into the fur beneath me.

"Listen to that," Jack grunted. "That’s your ass getting ruined."

His balls slapped against me with every thrust, wet and heavy. My cock was trapped against my stomach, throbbing harder with every stroke. Pre-cum leaked steadily, slicking my skin, the head flushed and swollen.

"Fuck," I breathed, voice breaking. "I’m gonna shoot."

"Don’t," Jack barked, his hips slamming even harder. "Not yet. I wanna feel you lose it in my mouth."

I whimpered, my body shaking, legs wide, taking everything he gave. The pressure was unbearable. My cock twitched again, drooling, begging.

He leaned down, his chest brushing mine, breath burning against my ear.

"You feel that?" he rasped. "That’s your sister’s boyfriend stretching you open."

"Keep going," I moaned, shameless. "Fuck me just like that."

But neither of us came.

Not yet.

We stayed tangled on the rug, breathing like we’d just survived something. His cock had been inside me, deep and raw, but neither of us had finished. Not really. My dick still throbbed against my stomach, leaking pre-cum in hot pulses. Jack was still hard, twitching, his grip bruising on my hips. He looked down at me, sweaty, flushed, open, and something flickered behind his eyes. He wasn’t done. Not even close.

He stood abruptly and held out a hand.
"Shower," he said.

I followed without a word, legs shaky. My ass ached with every step. The bathroom was already thick with steam, the air wet and heavy. Jack turned the water on full blast and stepped under the stream like he needed to burn something away. I stepped in right behind him.

His back was broad and wet, muscles shifting under skin slick with water and sweat. My cum still clung to the base of his spine, now trailing down between his cheeks with every drop that hit him. I didn’t even think. I dropped to my knees.

My hands spread him open. His hole was still pink, still open, twitching like it missed being stretched. I leaned in and pressed my tongue to him, dragging it long and slow. Jack jolted forward with a sharp growl, one hand slamming the tile.

"God, fuck," he gasped. "You’re licking my ass again?"

I moaned into him, circling my tongue, then pushing it in deeper. His balls swayed just above my face, soaked and heavy. I cupped them with one hand, worked them slowly in my palm, worshipping every inch.

"My girl’s little brother," he panted, voice ragged. "Tongue-deep in my fucking hole…"

I pulled back just enough to whisper,
"Tastes better than she ever did."

Jack turned without hesitation, yanked me to my feet, and shoved me face-first against the cold tile. The slap of skin on porcelain echoed loud under the spray.

"We’re not talking about this," he growled in my ear. "Ever."

"Then shut me up," I said, grinding my ass back against his cock.

He didn’t fuck me again. Not this time. He grabbed his cock and fisted it tight, stroking hard. His other hand shoved my head forward, pressing my cheek flat to the wall.

"You want my cum?" he hissed behind me. "You want it on your face? On this fucking wall?"

"Every drop," I breathed. "Paint me."

That broke him.

He groaned loud, his body shuddering. His cock jerked violently in his grip, and thick shots of cum splattered the tile beside my face. Hot. White. Messy. He kept pumping, kept shooting, breath gone ragged, broken.

I turned my head and licked. The taste was sharp and bitter and so fucking dirty. The second it hit my tongue, I lost it.

My body locked. My cock jerked untouched, spraying cum in thick pulses across my stomach, my thigh, and the tile. I came hard, gasping into the steam, legs trembling. I hadn’t even touched myself. Just the taste of him. The sound of his moan. The filth.

We stood there, panting, steam swirling, cum dripping down the wall. My tongue still tingled.

And neither of us moved.

The water ran cold before either of us moved. Jack leaned against the glass, chest heaving. I stayed pressed to the wall, forehead down, cum cooling on my skin. The air was heavy with steam, sweat, and the sharp, unmistakable smell of sex. My legs trembled. My throat was raw.

Eventually, he reached over and turned off the tap. The silence hit hard, too loud, too real. We dried off in silence, slow and cautious, like any sudden move might shatter whatever this was. He pulled on his boxers. I didn’t. I just stood there, still naked, still flushed, still tasting him, watching from across the room.

"She’s gonna ask," I said finally, voice rough.

He didn’t turn. "Then lie," he replied.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell him again. I pressed my mouth to the back of his neck. Just once. "You gonna pretend this didn’t happen?"

Jack turned his head slightly, not all the way. Just enough. "No," he said, voice quiet and final. "But I’m not telling your sister I bred your ass and came all over your face."

I smiled, slow and crooked.
"Good. Because I’m not done letting you."

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t walk away either.