My travel companion looks to me. Those mossy green beauties shine in the sun. The softest of smiles kicks up at the corner of his lips. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” His hand reaches out to take mine. Lacing our fingers together, he looks at me, not the landscape, the sky, or the incredible view of the mountains across the meadow.

  A blush ignites as it often does in his presence. My attention-starved hole clenches in need. I ignore it all as I look into his eyes and beyond…directly into the depths of his soul. Here, together, the center of my universe cracks open, and Beck floats in, filling all the nooks and crannies.

  I hate him just a little for giving me this, for being so… him.

  “This is my… favorite place,” I whisper, afraid to break our bubble.

  Standing inches apart, Beck’s damp fingers squeeze my own. “This is my favorite place too.”

  Oh.

  I swallow down the sudden knot in my throat. “Are you real?”

  That soft smile dazzles me. “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” he mutters.

  “You… feel?” The connection? I wanna ask, but think better of it, not wanting to come on too strong.

  Beck nudges the side of my boot with his own. “It. Yes. I feel it.” He winks.

  Somehow, Beck knows. He gets it. I’m not alone in this.

  “It is real.”

  “It’s real,” he reaffirms, and I don’t know whether I should cry, smile, or run away.

  With my heart galloping a hundred miles an hour, I decide not to waste this. Whatever this is, it’s significant. You know it. I know it. He knows it.

  In the place I cherish most, I take Beck on a tour. I show him the tree I often snooze against. Its curved nook and overhead canopy make for the best naps after a long hike. I show him the home of two fat squirrels I named Chip and Dale. They’ve lived up here for years and often come out to make their presence known when I visit. On most trips, I bring nuts as a gift for sharing their meadow with me. On the far side of the hilltop, we stand on the edge of a rocky cliff that drops hundreds of feet into a valley of endless treetops below. From here, all you can see is green for miles and white-capped mountains in the far distance.

  Beck tips his face toward the sun, eyes closed. Long, dark lashes fan across the tops of his cheeks. His chest expands as he inhales the freshest air. On a long, audible exhale, his shoulders deflate as if he’s banishing whatever demons lurk within. Or that’s what I make of it. As a writer, I see those demons. Pouring like thick, tarry smoke through the part in Beck’s lips. The entity slithers into the sky and whips its head around. Glowing yellow eyes flash in defiance at its former host before it turns and zips away.

  I blink, and the world is normal again.

  No more fantasy.

  Just us.

  I memorize the contours of Beck’s strong jaw, the start of a beard, and the sinuous lines of his neck, no doubt made from hours in the gym. The bulging caps of his shoulders and equally impressive biceps forcing his shirt to stretch. His tattooed forearms and the veins that pulse as his hand squeezes in mine.

  Beck chuckles as light as air. “You’re staring.”

  “Observing,” I counter, somehow not at all embarrassed by my perusal.

  His cheeks pinken in an adorable, shy way I’ve never seen before. Curious, I brush a finger over the bridge of his nose. Beck sucks in a sharp breath, and my stomach twists in anxious, sexual knots at the sound.

  “I think you’re the most attractive man I’ve ever seen,” I admit on a whisper.

  That pinkness morphs to red as Beck turns his head away as if he can’t stand to take an outright compliment. I find that hard to believe. A man who looks like him probably has men falling all over him on a daily. Especially his partner.

  Not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable, since I know how that feels on a cellular level, I tug us from the cliff's edge back to my backpack, where I let go of his hand long enough to rifle through the contents.

  On the grass beside my foot, I drop two once-frozen water bottles, a bag of jerky, trail mix, and an old bed sheet to relax on.

  Going about my business, I collect the goods and find a shaded area along the outskirts of the densest part of the meadow to fan out the sheet and toss the goodies into the grass. Because my feet need a breather and I want my clothes to air out, I remove my boots and everything else, down to the clean underwear I put on before we left. Even though I despise them, they do come in handy from time to time.

  Fanning everything out in the sun, I drop onto the sheet to finally relax before we return to the cabin. Hopefully, hours from now. Beck follows suit. Off goes the rest of his clothes, down to his boxers. Beside me, he stretches out, close enough I can smell him—spice and man. The tree above provides just enough cover to keep the worst part of the heat at bay. I offer him water. Beck takes small sips as I do the same from my bottle.

  “If this is your favorite place… What other things are your favorites?” my companion asks as he tears a piece of jerky off with his teeth and rubs his bare foot against mine.

  I shrug, not sure how to answer the question. My favorites? I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before. “I like the color green,” I reply rather lamely. I’ve never had an actual favorite color before now, but the color of Beck’s eyes are undeniably perfect.

  “What shade?” he probes innocently.

  Abort.

  Abort mission.

  There’s no way I’m giving up the goods on this one.

  I shrug again, refusing to answer.

  Beck throws his head back and chuckles. To stave off further prodding, I fire back the same question. If we’re going to get to know each other, I suppose it’s essential we take time to get to know each other beyond the sexual bedroom sense.

  “Blue,” Beck answers.

  Green and blue, what a pair of basic men we are.

  “What do you want out of life?” he asks next, throwing me for a loop.

  For what feels like the millionth time, I shrug. What I want from life isn’t what most desire. So many seek to be highly successful overachievers, always chasing the next best thing. More money, more power, more influence. I don’t want any of that. Sure, money keeps my world afloat, but beyond that, I don’t need much. Power and influence hold no bearing on me.

  “Peace.” I draw the letters with my finger through the air. Peace is the all-encompassing focus in my life. I didn’t have much of it growing up. Not that my childhood was all that bad. It was what it was.

  “Mmmm…” Beck hums as if he likes the sound of that. “And what does that look like to you?”

  “Freedom to be myself, to live how I want, where I want, to do what I want, without people.”

  “So, the way you already live?”

  I nod. “Precisely.”

  “Alone?”

  Another shrug lifts and drops in spectacular fashion. “If that’s how it ends up, then yes… alone.” I’ve always hated how society paints being alone as some second-rate prize. Yet, relationships, no matter their level of toxicity, are applauded. Married for ten years with an abuser, good on you. While men like me, those who suck at dating, and refuse to settle with a mundane long-term partner, are frowned upon. It’s as if we lack something crucial. Sure, I understand people are supposed to be social creatures, and those who don’t wish to be social are outcasts. The thing is, I know this, and I’m more than happy with being just me—Finn. The cabin-living hermit, fantasy writer, bread baker.

  Beck’s shoulder bumps mine. “But what if it’s not? Do you have the capacity to make space for a living, breathing person in your world?”

  I side-eye him. “Is that person you?”

  “Maybe.” He sounds shy, apprehensive, and for some reason, I find it sexy as hell.

  I smile to myself. “I can learn to make the space. I can’t pretend this isn’t foreign to me. I’ve lived alone for a long time. I work long hours, wrapped up in my head. I don’t like clothes. I eat far too healthy for most people in modern society, and I intentionally live away from civilization… and none of that I plan to change. What do you want out of life?” I toss back to check and see if we’re on the same page or, at the very least, the same chapter.

  “Up until I came to your cabin, I thought I knew.” Beck takes a page out of my playbook and shrugs, staring far off into the distance. “As much as I like my life… I like this too.”

  “Which part?”

  “The peace. This might come as a surprise, but I don’t open up. I listen. That’s always been my MO. The person there to listen and take care of others. I’m hard-wired that way.”

  That makes sense.

  “That’s why you’re the helper.”

  A shallow nod. “Exactly.”

  “And why you’re okay being in a non-monogamous relationship,” I throw out.

  “I’ve never thought monogamy was a necessary social construct.”

  Right.

  I nod along, not knowing if I agree with him. I have no frame of reference to go off of.

  “Tell me about your life.” I gesture for Beck to spill. Sure, he might not be a sharer, and perhaps, he prefers to listen, but I’m an observer and a sucker for details. I want to know Beck on a deep, free-dive-into-the-abyss personal level. I wanna know what scared him as a child. What he wanted to be when he grew up. His favorite and least favorite foods. How he takes his coffee. What side of the bed he prefers to sleep on. Hot or cold showers. Fiction or nonfiction books. I want to know every morsel, down to the brand of socks he wears.

  For the next however long we talk, him mostly, as I listen and pull random questions out of my ass. In nothing more than our boxers, I get to know the most handsome man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. His well-crafted walls come down. In my head, I watch each brick disintegrate to ash. Beck smiles more, holds my hand, and plays footsy. It’s peace. It’s sexy. It’s everything.

  When the sun begins to set, we don’t run to grab our clothes, knowing it’ll be a harder trek home in the dark. I packed headlamps just in case. We watch the blended watercolors fade on the horizon, and just as the glow dips, Beck leans over, cups my jaw, and kisses me. What do I do? I kiss him back, lips grazing his, soaking up the warmth and tingles. An electric current passes between us, undeniable in the waning light. It hums through our connection.

  Beck pulls back only to press in again, sweeping his pillow-soft lips across mine. “This has been the best day. Thank you, Finn.”

  It has.

  I rest my hand on his bare thigh. “Will you stay?”

  “I’d love nothing more.” Beck’s nose nuzzles the side of mine as the beautiful sound of contentment hums through his chest. It’s low, and I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it. His breath fans my cheek as he releases the softest sigh.

  Not wanting to leave just yet, I draw my fingertips along the tops of his muscled thighs. He shivers against me, his breath sputtering, as he continues to rub his nose along mine.

  “Sweetheart,” Beck whispers, taking my hand and placing it over the thick rod hiding in his boxers.

  Loving the feel of him, ready for me, I form my fingers around its pulsing heat.

  Beck sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

  “Anytime I think of you, this happens.” He drags his lips across my cheek to kiss the spot just below my ear, and my heart revs into overdrive.

  “Beck,” I gasp.

  “I can’t wait to get you home. Will you let me fuck you in bed, sweetheart?”

  My stomach swan dives at his question.

  Unable to form coherent words, I nod dumbly. Yes. A thousand times, yes, he can fuck me in bed. In the living room. On the couch. The floor. In the shower. Anywhere he wants me, he can have me. I will never tell him no. I don’t even know if I could if I wanted to. I’ve never felt like this with another person in my entire life. I never knew it was even possible.

  Beck nips my earlobe, and my cock goes from half-hard to railroad spike. “Let’s get home then. Get a shower. Then… I’m gonna make you scream my name.”

  Yes.

  All of that.

  I give his erection one final squeeze before letting it go. Beck groans in disappointment. I chuckle as we get to our feet to dress for our long hike back. As I step into my pants and pull them up, Beck’s behind me, gripping me by the hips and grinding his erection against my cotton-covered ass. He slips his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down to expose me. I don’t protest. Curious to see what he’ll do, I remain quiet, apart from my eager, desire-induced panting.

  Hands on my knees, I remain bent over for Beck as a wet, deliciously thick cockhead slips between my globes and massages my rim. “You. Are. Too. Fuckin’. Perfect,” he grinds out, as if he’s fighting a war within himself. As if he wants to stop but doesn’t know how.

  “It’s time to open up, sweetheart. Let me inside. Just for a minute.”

  I say nothing as Beck presses in, spearing me with his erection. It slides in without a fight, my hole accepting him as if it’s been waiting for him to return home. Strong fingers grip my cheeks as he bottoms out. A low, animalistic groan pours from his lips.

  And I love it.

  The stretch. The fullness.

  My cock weeps precum. My balls ache.

  I will never get enough.

  Ever.

  “Do you want my cum?”

  “Yes,” I rasp.

  I want it all.

  I want him in my bed, in my body, in my soul. The man who loves tea and coffee—no cream, only sugar. The man who wanted to be a teacher, then a firefighter growing up. I want the man who takes care of the elderly because of his deep love for his grandma. I want the man who smiles for no reason. The man with an unmatched sense of calm and kindness. The man with dark hair, green eyes, and thick thighs. Him. Beck. I want it all.

  And so, I take him inside of me.

  As Beck fucks me deep, with the sun barely kissing the horizon, the moon in the sky, and fireflies dancing across the meadow, I accept him. All of him. When he comes, I don’t chase my release. I revel in his. The spurts of heat filling me. The pulsing of his cock. The imprints I know his fingers will leave for days to come and the imprints the rest of him will leave on my soul… forever. I take it all without shame or fear. I take it with an open heart and mind because this man has changed me.

  When Beck pulls me up, to stand with his dick still buried in my ass, he flattens his palm over my heart, much like he did this morning. Only this feels different somehow. He kisses my neck, his chest heaving for air at my back. I lean into him, squeezing my hole around his member.

  Beck’s opposite hand finds my throat. “I want this.” He nips my shoulder, leaving a sting in his wake. “I want this,” he repeats.

  I know… I want to say, but don’t.

  I know he wants this.

  I want this.

  But we’re living on borrowed time, in a fantasy.

  We lead two different lives.

  He’s in a committed relationship.

  Chemistry can only take us so far.

  And tonight, it’s taken us here… to a field where I’ve gotten to know him, the real him. I will be forever grateful for this day. To experience what I have with him.

  Another kiss presses to the back of my neck, and there we stand together. No words are needed because this is about as perfect as you can imagine.

  When we finally break to dress again and pack up to leave, we don’t speak, not down the hill, with our headlamps lighting the way, not across the brook or through the foot-worn path. We share stolen looks and small smiles.

  Back at the cabin, we shower together and towel off, side-by-side, sharing those same looks, stealing simple touches.

  In the bedroom, we climb into bed together. Beck cuddles me, my back to his front. His bigger spoon to my smaller. Our lovemaking is slow and endless. I come over and over with his cock buried in my ass, his breath on my neck, a firm fist around my cock, our hearts hammering as one.

  When we finally sleep, it’s wrapped in each other, legs and arms clinging to the other, ceasing to part, even for a moment.

  In the morning, we have a simple breakfast of eggs and toast, with coffee, at the table in the kitchen, naked, sharing those very same looks.

  And when Beck leaves, my heart aches as we share our final kiss at the door, and I watch him go until the moment his Jeep disappears.

  Then…

  I cry…

  Because sometimes, that’s all you can do.

  For the rest of the day, I curl up in my comfy chair in the corner, by my bookshelves, and read. My sore ass is a constant reminder that he was here, and he was real. My life will never truly be the same since the moment Beck came into my life.

  And that’s okay.

  Because I met a man one day…

  A helper.

  And he changed everything.

  NEXT IN THE SERIES

  His Helper - Part 4: Heartache & Chocolate Cake

  BECK

  How do you have a relationship with one man when you're already in one with another? Walter has been my ride-or-die since college. Breaking his heart is last on my list, but there's Finn, and I can't let him go. Finn is my future, and for once in my life, I'm selfishly taking what I want, guilt be damned.

  His Helper Part 4 is the final story of the 4 part serial series of m/m shorts.

  SOCIAL MEDIA

  Follow Me On Social Media for further updates and a more personalized experience!

  Instagram

  Facebook

  TikTok

  Facebook SS Clubhouse

  ALSO BY BINK CUMMINGS

  Want a Daddy/Boy M/M - Roommates, Age-Gap Romance?

  Check out Justin & Asher in His Boy

  Want to read a M/M Comfort/Hurt - Age Gap Biker Romance?

  Check Out Switch & Burn

  Want to read a M/M Master/Sub- Age Gap, Sex Worker romance?