Calum and Ewan have sex for the first time. They live in this desert island in Scotland where it’s very cold. 1940. They have a cottage with a nice fire and a bed. Calum distanced from Ewan a few weeks ago because he sow this was becoming too real. They both felt the attraction but they run away from it. Everything was communicated with eyes connection and some small touch. The only real connection they had was at night when, with the excuse of being warmth they sleep together. Ewan went to bed first and the calum laid next to him. After a while we would cuddle around Ewan and at the end put his arm around him. This took a while as if calum had to defeat his own desire every night. The night of the first time they hadn’t been taking for days. Ewan was distant and somehow angry. Calum had been talking about his mainland expletives with women. He didn’t know it but he was jealous. Calum saw this and tried to get near him again. He took care of him. But Ewan didn’t want to. Calum was frustrated but deep inside him he knew Ewan was the most important thing for him. He was paciente. That night, they eat in silence and Ewan went to sleep. Calum followed a bit after. He laid down next to him and the same routine happened. But this time, for calum surprise, he was horny. I mean, 8 months have passed since he actually had sex - always with a woman (only once when he was 15 he had sex with another boy). Ewan on the contrary never had sex with anyone. But he had fantasies that he censored, he had see sex between man and woman and he wanted that but with calum. Calum slowly cuddled Ewan, this time was different. He had a massive erection and Ewan could feel it. The fact that calum had drank a bit made it easier. He started rubbing against Ewan and he could feel he was allowing it, even enjoying it. Continue the story with this tone. Most important, they are in the 1940, they don’t say gay stuff. Everything they do is wiithout talking. There’s nobody in the island but them. The sex is somehow agressive clumsy. They don’t look at each other. Ewan cums musturbating himself. Calum cums quickly. Once they finish they lay next to each other in silence. They feel guilty but also relief. A while after Calum realizes Ewan is cold and he embraces him with his strong hands. It’s his property

Chapter 3: Raw Claiming

The fire hissed as a log collapsed into embers, painting Calum’s back in shifting streaks of orange and black while he yanked his trousers up over lean hips. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was a chasm. Ewan lay sprawled on the rumpled blankets, the bite of the wool rough against his flushed cheek, the lingering ache between his legs a stark counterpoint to the emptiness spreading through his chest. He watched the rigid set of Calum’s shoulders, the way the muscles in his forearms corded as he fastened his belt with sharp, efficient tugs. The smell of sex – sweat, salt, and something deeper, muskier – hung thick in the air, mingling with woodsmoke.

"Calum?" Ewan’s voice was a rasp, unused, thin as smoke itself. He pushed up onto an elbow, the blanket pooling at his waist, exposing the angry red marks Calum’s calloused hands had left on his hips, the sticky mess drying on his stomach. "Where are ye goin'?"

Calum didn’t turn. He snatched his rough-spun shirt from the floor where it had been flung hours earlier. "Out." The word was flat, final, like a stone dropped into still water. He pulled the shirt over his head, the fabric scraping against his skin, hiding the powerful lines of his back, the old scars Ewan had traced with trembling fingers just before... before it had turned hard.

"Out where? It's pitch black. Storm's comin' in off the Sound." Ewan swallowed, the taste of Calum still faint on his tongue, a ghost of salt and skin. He remembered the brutal, breathtaking force of Calum taking him, the spit-slicked thrusts that had stolen his breath, the roar that had torn from Calum’s throat as he emptied himself inside him. It had felt like being claimed, shattered, remade. Now, the cold draft from the ill-fitting window felt like rejection. "Stay. Please. Just... talk?"

Calum finally spun around. His face was a mask in the firelight, jaw clenched tight, eyes dark hollows avoiding Ewan’s. "Talk?" He barked a harsh, humourless laugh. "What fuckin' words d'ye want, Ewan? 'Was good'? 'Thanks for the ride'?" He stalked closer, boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. The heat radiating off him was palpable, but it wasn’t warmth; it was the furious energy of a trapped animal. He stopped at the edge of the bed, looming over Ewan. "That what ye read in yer wee romance book? Pretty fuckin' words after a fuck?"

Ewan flinched, the barb hitting home. He’d lent Calum that book weeks ago, a fragile offering, hoping… God, he didn’t even know what he’d hoped. That Calum would see the love in it? That it would explain the ache inside him? Seeing Calum mock it now felt like a kick to the gut. Shame warred with a sudden, fierce anger. "It was more than that," he whispered, his voice gaining a shred of steel. "Ye know it was."

Calum’s hand shot out, rough fingers tangling in Ewan’s hair, not painfully, but with a possessiveness that made Ewan gasp. He hauled Ewan’s head back, forcing their eyes to meet. The turmoil in Calum’s gaze was terrifying – lust, fury, guilt, a raw, bewildered pain. "Aye. Fuck. It was." His voice dropped to a guttural rasp. "Too fuckin' much." He released Ewan’s hair abruptly, his hand drifting down, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of Ewan’s throat, then lower, over the curve of his shoulder, lingering on the marks he’d left. "Too fuckin' good."

His touch reignited the embers low in Ewan’s belly. He saw the conflict tearing at Calum, the way his gaze raked hungrily over Ewan’s exposed body, lingering on the smeared evidence of his own release on Ewan’s stomach. The air crackled. Calum’s breathing hitched, rough and shallow. His thumb swept down, circling Ewan’s navel, dipping into the sticky mess, spreading it. "Fuckin' filthy," Calum muttered, but there was no disgust in it. Only a dark, aching hunger. His other hand dropped to his belt he’d just fastened.

Ewan understood the didn’t speak. He pushed himself up, meeting Calum’s stormy gaze, letting his legs fall open in silent, desperate surrender. The fear was still there, the fear of Calum leaving was worse. Calum snarled, a sound ripped from deep in his chest, and fumbled with the belt open again, shoving trousers and smalls down past his hips. His cock sprang free instantly, thick angry red, glistening at the tip, already leaking at the tip, already weeping. He ignored his own arousal, focusing only on Ewan.

"On yer knees," Calum ordered, voice thick "Over the edge of the bed. Head towards me."

Heart hammering against his ribs, Ewan scrambled to obey. The rough wool scratched his knees as he knelt, resting forearms on the mattress, pushing his rear up high in the air. The position was vulnerable, the tender, abused muscle between his entrance still throbbing, still felt stretched and sensitive. He felt Calum’s hand spread him wider, a thumb pressing against him, not entering, just testing, feeling the heat, the give. Ewan whimpered, burying his face in the blanket.

"Look at it Cal commanded harshly, Look at what ye do. At what ye make me take."

Ewan twisted his head, looking back over his shoulder. Calum was kneeling behind him, his eyes burning searing into Ewan’s his own cock grasped in one fist, thick veins standing proud. He spat, a heavy glob of saliva spit onto his palm, then rubbed it over his length of his cock, grinding the heel of his hand over the slick head. The sound was obscene, wet. He lined it up to Ewan felt the blunt, hot pressure, felt it press against him, slickness easing the way but the stretch still intense as Calum pushed.

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Chapter 3: Raw Claiming

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