Chapter 2: Building Tension
They got to the cabin, and Rick sat on the porch while Tom went inside for the beer. The cabin was a simple two room building, a sleeping room at one end, a very simple kitchen and sitting room at the other. a bathroom divided the two areas.
The cabin was a simple structure, but it was Tom's pride and joy. He'd built it himself, with his own hands. He took pride in the fact that it was sturdy and well-built, just like him.
Tom came back out, carrying two beers. He stopped short at the sight of Rick, who had taken off his shirt to cool off. Tom had seen Rick without a shirt before, but he'd never really noticed the extent of the hair. It was everywhere—on his chest, his belly, his arms, and even trailing down to disappear into the waistband of his jeans. Tom raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, Rick," Tom said, handing him a beer, "you're like a walking carpet. I had no idea you were so... furry." He chuckled, taking a swig of his own beer. "No wonder you're so hot!"
Tom and Rick both laughed, but Tom's his eyes lingered on Rick's chest. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the sight. Tom's own chest was hairy, but not like this. It was more like a thick, dark pelt, and Tom found himself wondering what it would feel like under his fingers. He shook his head slightly, pushing the thought away.
"You're like a walking carpet, Rick.
Rick laughed, taking the beer from Tom. "Well, I've always been a bear, haven't I? Even back in High School." He took a long pull, the cold liquid refreshing in the heat. "You've got some fur of your own, going there, don't you? Hair on your back?"
Tom blushed a little. "I do," he admitted.
"Well lose the shirt! Let's compare! Besides, it'll cool you off quicker and we can get back to work." Tom chuckled, but his eyes were still on Rick's chest. Rick, noticing Tom's gaze, grinned and took another swig of his beer.
"You know, Tom," he said, his voice casual, "it's not just my chest that's hairy." He paused, then his hand reached out, resting lightly on Tom's thigh. "And you've got some hair of your own going on there, haven't you?"
Tom's eyes flicked down to Rick's hand, then back up to meet his gaze. He felt a jolt of surprise, but also a spark of something else—something he hadn't felt in a long time. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said, his voice a little gruff. "It's just... different, I guess. Yours is...
more," Tom finished, his voice trailing off as he realized what he was saying. He took another swig of his beer, trying to hide his discomfort. But Rick wasn't having it. He leaned in closer, his hand still resting on Tom's thigh.
"More what, Tom?" Rick asked, his voice low and husky. "More manly? More... appealing?" He let his hand slide a little further up Tom's thigh, his fingers brushing against the seam of Tom's jeans. Tom's breath hitched, and he felt a stirring in his pants.
"Just like that time in eleventh grade? that 'fishing trip'?" Rick asked. Tom chugged the rest of his beer and stood up, partly to get away from Rick's hand. But now his hard on was making his jeans show and unmistakable bulge.
Rick was not blind to it. He saw it and he smiled. Tom's face was red as a tomato. He was embarrassed and aroused at the same time. He was a married man and he knew what he was thinking was wrong but he couldn't help himself. Rick was just too damn sexy. He always was, since the eleventh grade. Even before!
"Tom," Rick said, his voice low and husky, "you're not the only one who's been thinking about this." He reached up and grabbed Tom's hand, pulling it down to his own crotch. Tom could feel the bulge in Rick's jeans, hard and ready. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Now, how about that shirt? How 'bout we get you out of it?"
Like a lamb to the slaughter, Tom just nodded. Rick got half the buttons undone before Tom's finger's finished the last two. With both hands, Rick pushed the shirt back, exposing Tom's own hairy chest.
He ran his hands over the thick pelt, feeling the coarse hair under his fingertips. Tom's breath hitched, his nipples hardening under Rick's touch. Rick leaned in, his lips finding one of the hard nubs, his tongue flicking out to taste it. Tom groaned, his head falling back, exposing his neck.
"Fuck, Rick," Tom muttered, his hands finding their way into Rick's hair, holding him close. "She never does this and it feels so fucking good!"
Rick smiled and moved his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. His hands began roaming over Tom's chest, just feeling the thick fur.
He ran his hands down Tom's stomach, feeling the hard muscles beneath the soft hair. He unbuttoned Tom's jeans and pulled them open. The hair on his chest kept going.
"You remember that overnight fishing trip we took together, in eleventh grade?"
Tom nodded. "But that was just once. A long time ago."
"It was, but I never forgot it. Apparently, neither did you," Rick smiled. "How about we take this inside?" He took hold of Tom's meaty bicep and together they made it to the couch before Tom's jeans were down to his knees. Tom plopped onto the couch and Rick dropped to his knees. He helped Tom get his boots off, then his jeans. He sat there, one hand trying--and failing--to hide his hard cock. It was so hard it was almost peeking out of the waistband of his Hanes.
Rick looked up at Tom, a wicked grin on his face. "You're still packing like a fucking horse, Tom. I've missed this." He reached out, his hand wrapping around Tom's thick shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. Tom groaned, his hips bucking slightly at the contact.
"Fuck, Rick," Tom muttered, his voice ragged. "I can't... I shouldn't... "
Rick chuckled, his hand sliding over the fabric, outlining the swollen man meat under it. He continued stroking Tom's cock just like this, slowly. "You shouldn't what, Tom? You shouldn't enjoy this? You shouldn't want this?" He leaned in, his breath hot on Tom's ear. "Because I know I do. And my guess is, she doesn't. So what's the harm?"
Tom sighed, groaned. "Fuck it! Take it out. Just like you did before!"
"You do remember that night!" Rick said.
I've been thinking about this for so long, Tom. About you. About us." Rick's voice was low and husky in Tom's ear. Rick's hand kept moving, but he didn't 'take it out'.
"Fuck, Rick," Tom groaned, his hands fisting in Rick's hair. "Pull it out and suck it, like you did that time! Fuck! Just do it!" Tom demanded. His voice hoarse with desire.
Rick looked up at him, his eyes dark with lust. He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes, and Tom felt his heart race. Rick's hand moved to the waistband of Tom's boxers, and he pulled them down, freeing Tom's cock. It sprang out, hard and ready, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Rick eyes went from the cock to Tom's eyes.
"Fuck, Rick," Tom groaned, his hips bucking slightly. "Suck it, just like you did that night."
Rick didn't need to be told twice.