Cabin Fever

The air at Camp Pinehill always smelled like sap, sweat, and sex.

It was the kind of place where everything was damp — the wooden bunks, the skin under the shirt, the secret thoughts one couldn’t say out loud. Especially if you were a counselor like Brian, twenty-two, pretending to be responsible while watching boys barely younger than himself flex and show off at the lake.

And then there was Luke.

He wasn’t just hot. He was trouble. Tall, lean, with shaggy sun-bleached hair, and a crooked smile that screamed I know what I’m doing. He was assigned to Cabin 9 with Brian, and the first time he stripped down to change in front of him — just a towel slung low over his hips, cock clearly half-hard underneath — Brian knew he was doomed.

They were supposed to be lights-out by ten, but that night, something lingered in the air. The kids were snoring. Crickets hummed. Brian couldn’t sleep. And then he saw Luke’s bunk light still on.

He was shirtless, reading some worn paperback, abs glinting in the dim glow. He looked up. “You awake?”

Brian nodded, throat dry. “Yeah. Can’t sleep.”

He smirked. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Brian followed him into the woods without a word. The air was thick with humidity and pine needles. Their flashlights bounced against trees, but soon Lume turned his off. “C’mon,” he said. “No one’s gonna catch us.”

They stopped by the old canoes. Luke sat on the edge of one, legs spread wide. Brian stood there like an idiot, heartbeat in his ears.

“You been looking at me,” he said.

Brian’s mouth opened. “What—?”

“Don’t lie.” He stood, close enough to touch. “I’ve been looking at you, too.”

And then he kissed him. Hard. Dirty. Like he’d been starving all summer.

Brian grabbed the back of Luke’s neck and pulled him closer, grinding against his thigh, tasting his sweat, the woodsmoke on his lips. His hands slid under Brian’s shirt, fingers finding his nipples and pinching — hard. Brian gasped into his mouth.

“Get on your knees,” he growled.

The grass was wet, but Brian didn’t care. He dropped, hands on his thighs, and tugged his shorts down. His cock sprang out, thick and flushed and already leaking.

“You gonna be a good boy?” he asked.

Brian nodded.

Luke shoved into Brian’s mouth without waiting. Brian gagged and groaned, spit dripping down his chin, Luke’s hands tangling in his hair. Brian sucked him like he meant it — because he did. He tasted like summer, salt and lust and something reckless. He fucked Brian’s face slow at first, then faster, the canoe creaking behind him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunted. “Just like that. That mouth’s been waiting for me, huh?”

Brian moaned around his length, fingers digging into his hips, nose pressed against his skin. He pulled out suddenly.

“Turn around. Bend over the canoe.”

Brian did.

He yanked his shorts down, spit in his hand, and smeared it between Brian’s cheeks. He felt his cock press against his hole, thick and throbbing.

“You want this?”

“Please,” Brian whispered.

He pushed in slowly — teasing — then slammed all the way inside. Brian gasped, hands gripping the canoe edge, forehead against the cold metal. Luke fucked him hard, wild, like the whole forest could hear them and he wanted them to. Each thrust sent shockwaves through Brian’s body. He grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, panting in his ear.

“You like being used like this?”

“Yeah,” Brian breathed.

“You gonna cum for me?”

“Only if you do.”

He reached around and stroked him, fast and rough. Brian couldn’t hold back. Brian spilled all over the canoe’s side as Luke slammed into him one last time and groaned, hot and deep inside.

They collapsed onto the pine needles, sweaty, spent, and breathless.

“I’m on cleanup duty in the morning,” Luke said, grinning. “Think I’ll need help.”

Brian licked his lips. “I’m free.”