The cold hit more than usual that morning, but I didn’t care. I was already half-wet before I stepped out the door, the flannel shirt sticking to my skin where it brushed bare curves. My nipples ached under the fabric. I wanted to feel him shiver when I slid the shirt open and pulled him in.

I stepped out into the clearing. Empty. The mist clung low over the frost. Trees stood still. But no one was waiting.

I stood there, arms folded, the quiet wrapping around me tighter than the shirt. My pulse thudded in my throat.

I waited another minute. Still nothing. I had expected Dean this morning. The others had been joking with him about it last night. Dean was the one I had been waiting for ever since I saw him take his shirt off that first day. He was younger than the rest, sweet, but God, his body was bangin'.

The ache in my stomach twisted as I turned back toward the bunkhouse, jaw tight, heat still thrumming between my thighs.

So much for patience.

The bunkhouse was quiet, heavy with sleep and the chill of early morning. I crept in, the air sharp against my skin where the shirt didn’t cover. My eyes went to his bed. Dean’s back was to the room. Covers drawn high. Too still to be asleep.

I stepped close and lifted the edge of his blanket, slipping in behind him. The warmth of his body hit me right away. I pulled the covers over both of us, tucking us in tight, our breath caught in the dark space between fabric and skin.

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the tension in his back.

I whispered close to his ear. “You weren’t outside.”

A pause. Then, quietly, “I meant to be.”

I brushed my fingers along his arm, soft and slow.

“Got cold feet?”

He gave a small breath. Nervous. “I got dressed. Stood by the door. Then I thought about you waiting. What if I... what if I’m shit at it? What if I mess it up?”

I shifted closer, our legs brushing, my hand gliding down to his hip.

“You worried I’d laugh?”

He nodded against the pillow.

“I wouldn’t,” I said. “I wouldn’t let anyone else, either.”

Another silence. I let it hold.

Then his voice, quiet. “I want to. I just haven’t. Not with anyone like you.”

I smiled against his neck. My fingers moved lower, brushing along the outline of his cock beneath the thin fabric. He was already hard.

“You have nothing to worry about.”

His hips tensed under my touch. I slipped my hand into his boxers, wrapped my fingers around him, and stroked once, slow and full.

He groaned under his breath, barely audible.

“You want this?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

Under the blanket, it was all breath and heat. The air between us smelled of pine and sweat and something sharper. Want.

My hand stayed on him, slow strokes, steady. He didn’t tense anymore. He exhaled, full and quiet, like he’d been holding something in for days.

His hips started to move with me. Small thrusts into my palm. No hesitation now.

“I’ve wanted this since the first day. I just... didn’t want to mess it up.”

I kissed his jaw, soft, slow. “You’re not. Just listen to me. I’ll show you.”

His hands moved over my skin, more confident now. I guided them, one higher, one lower. I told him where to touch lightly, where to squeeze. He listened.

And then he moaned, quiet and shaky, when I pressed my body tight to his.

His mouth met mine like he’d been waiting to get lost in it. Hands on my waist. My thighs parted easily over his. He didn’t hesitate now, not even a little. Just grabbed, guided, touched where I needed him.

I reached between us again, angled him up. His breath caught.

No more teasing.

I shifted my hips, letting him feel just how wet I already was. He groaned low in his throat, hand tightening on my thigh.

“Now?” he asked.

I nodded, kissed him again, and pushed my hips down.

The world narrowed to heat, pressure, breath. The mattress creaked faintly. He filled me slow, deep, his hands steady on my hips.

Under the covers, we moved in rhythm, our skin hot and slick in the chill morning air, the world beyond the bunkhouse already forgotten. It was hot. Sticky hot. Breath hot. Dean’s chest was against mine, bare and flushed, his mouth on my throat, his hand sliding over the back of my thigh.

I had one hand shoved into his boxers, fingers wrapped around him, feeling him throb and swell with every stroke. His hips kept twitching up into my hand, needy, eager. I gave him a squeeze and grinned when he sucked in a sharp breath against my collarbone.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

“Then be quiet,” I murmured, and pumped him slow and tight from root to tip.

He gritted his teeth and grabbed a handful of my ass, pulling me closer. My thighs slipped over his, and the thick flannel shirt I’d slept in rode up, bunched around my hips. I wasn’t wearing anything under it. His hand slid up between my legs and found how wet I was.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re soaked.”

I dragged his boxers down, just enough to free him, and pressed my hips against his. My soft curls and wet lips dragging across his shaft. This was further than I had gone with the others. Further than I had planned to go with him, but I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop myself. Didn’t want to stop myself. 

 He groaned again, louder this time, and I clamped my hand over his mouth, laughing. He bit gently into my palm and looked up at me through the dark as his fingers found my clit, rubbing tight circles while I stroked him, both of us squirming in the small space under the blankets. My thighs were shaking, and his cock kept jumping in my hand, leaking over my knuckles.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I reached between us and guided him to my entrance, grinding down against the head until he slipped inside. My breath hitched. I sank down slow, taking all of him, feeling every inch stretch and fill me. My legs were trembling, but I didn’t stop until my hips met his.

We both froze for a second, breathing hard.

Then I started to move. The fabric of the flannel dragged across my nipples as I moved. His hands slid up under it, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my skin.

I rocked my hips, grinding him deeper with every roll. The pressure was perfect. His cock throbbed inside me, hot and hard, rubbing right where I needed it. I leaned forward, hands on his chest, keeping the rhythm slow and tight.

Dean's hands gripped my ass, guiding me, pulling me down harder on each thrust. I clenched around him and he cursed, trying to keep quiet. I could feel him holding back, teeth clenched, every muscle in his stomach flexing under my palms.

I bounced faster, the slap of our bodies barely muffled by the blankets. Wet sounds filled the space between us. I couldn’t stop moaning, not loud, but helpless. My thighs were burning, the ache growing deep and tight.

He slipped a hand between us again, rubbing my clit while I rode him. That sent me over. My body clenched down hard, waves of heat rolling through my core. I kept moving, desperate, grinding through every pulse.

His fingers were relentless, circling my clit just right while I rode him. My thighs were shaking, slick and aching, but I kept grinding down on him, each roll of my hips hitting deeper. The pressure was building sharp and tight, pulsing with every thrust. I could barely breathe.

I clenched around him, hard, and the pleasure snapped. My vision blanked. My whole body locked up and then shuddered as the orgasm tore through me. Heat flooded my core, rippling out in waves, each one stronger than the last. I kept moving, hips jerking uncontrollably, trying to drag it out.

My mouth was open but I couldn’t make a sound. I was holding the noise in my throat, feeling it pulse there with the rest of me. My nipples were so sensitive I couldn’t stand the brush of the flannel. My muscles squeezed down again and again, milking every last twitch out of him.

Dean groaned into my shoulder, low and broken. His hands were gripping my hips so hard I knew I’d have bruises. He thrust up into me once, twice, then buried himself deep. His whole body tensed under mine.

He came hard, cock pulsing inside me in thick spurts, filling me. I felt every twitch, every throb. His breath was ragged in my ear, chest heaving, hips still jerking involuntarily as I kept grinding against him, dragging it out, keeping him deep while I squeezed around him.

We stayed like that, locked together, both of us shaking, skin flushed and wet. I could still feel aftershocks rolling through me, slow and warm, every little movement making me gasp again. His cock was still twitching, softening inside me as I settled against him.

The covers clung to our sweaty skin. The cold outside didn’t stand a chance.

I laughed softly against his collarbone. “You good?”

He nodded. “Very.”

I shifted to my side, pulling the covers up to wipe the heat from my chest.

Then I heard it.

A muffled cough. Not from Dean. Not from me.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

I grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw it back.

Around us, Luis, and Cole were all very suddenly pretending to be asleep. Badly. Cole had one arm thrown over his eyes. Luis’s chest shook with silent laughter. Zeke didn’t even bother; he just grinned and gave me a slow thumbs-up. All three were clearly still suffering from their morning wood. 

I rolled my eyes. “You fuckers are terrible at stealth.”

“Says you, as if we couldn’t hear what you were doing under the covers. It’s a blanket, not a soundproof barrier.” Cole guffawed. 

Dean groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

I stretched, unabashed, still flushed and glowing. “You want a show; next time you can bring snacks.”

Luis laughed into his blanket. “You can’t blame us, you were right there!”

“Get in line,” I muttered, pulling the covers back over Dean and me. “Clearly there’s demand.”