Gavin did not know whether he was in Heaven or Hell. How did he let himself be talked into this anyway? Once again he threw a surreptitious glance at the man driving the 4x4. The young, athletic, gorgeous man.
Poitr was of Polish extraction and named after his grandfather. He was slender and blond with electrifying blue eyes. At least Gavin always experienced a thrill when those eyes focused on him. Somehow Poitr managed to make Gavin feel he was the focus of the blond's world when they spoke -- which was nowhere near often enough. He gave himself a cursory glance in the passenger mirror. His hair was dark enough to be classed as brunette and his eyes a warm hazel. He was marginally taller and broader then Poitr, but was willing to bet the younger man was more powerful.
Gavin had only recently become a part of Poitr's circle. They shared a mutual friend and she had insisted Gavin start coming out with them. The group were pleasant enough and had a mix of work and leisure in common that let conversation flow easily. Gavin had been captivated by the blond from the moment he had seen him.
That was Heaven.
Then he had been warned off by one of the other girls in the group that Poitr was not only straight, but likely to announce they were an item. The warning had been three weeks ago and the announcement still to be made. However, Poitr and Marion regularly turned up together and there did seem to be 'something' between them.
That was Hell.
He was here because of Tiffany, their mutual friend. She was as bright and beautiful as the diamonds in the shop with which she shared her name and few could resist or refuse her. Poitr and himself included. The blond had wanted to take a short skiing trip just before Christmas. However, the penalties for being alone in the cabin were so great as to be off putting. That was when Tiffany solved the problem with a wave of her hand.
"But, Poitr, there's no problem here." Gavin could hear her voice as clear as day in his mind. "Gavin skis and he was talking about wanting to take a couple of days' holiday around that time. You'd jump at the chance of some skiing, wouldn't you, Gavin?"
"Well, yes." Gavin had tried to hedge ... hadn't he? But the look in those Baltic blue eyes that had gone from misery to hope had been irresistible. He was just so screwed. He was close enough to the object of his recent fantasies that he could touch the muscled thigh under the canvass pants. But Poitr was not available. How was he going to manage this?
"Everything ok, Gavin?"
The words snapped the brunette from his reverie and he focused on the younger blond.
"Fine," he lied. He gave a genuine smile. "I'm not the best passenger. I like driving rather than being driven."
"We can swap if you like?" Poitr offered. "It's a straight road now for the next couple of hours. Then I can do the more fiddly bits on the side roads. I wouldn't mind a break, so don't feel you're treading on my toes."
Gavin gave a mental sigh. If he had his way, those toes would be in his mouth being sucked ... slowly ... to moans of appreciation. 'No. Stop. Danger,' he mentally admonished himself.
"That would be great, thanks," he said, pushing the erotic thoughts away. At least if he was keeping his mind on the road it could not misbehave and have him embarrass himself ... and Tiffany ... and lose the friendship of the blond. Despite which, Gavin found himself staring avariciously at the pert ass that was displayed as Poitr exited the car. He sighed. It was going to be a long few days.
****
Gavin gazed appreciatively around the log cabin. There was a huge fireplace in which a fire roared welcomingly. The mantle had a couple of snowflake-fronted glass candle holders casting a warm glow and a small artificial tree had twinkling white lights. On the table in the kitchen was a basket with bread, assorted mini boxes of cereal and some eggs. Checking the fridge, Gavin found butter, bacon, milk and a six-pack of beer. As well as a bottle of chilled champagne
"This is awesome," he enthused. He turned smiling at Poitr. For a second, the younger man's smile seemed wistful and then he was all business.
"Ok, the bedrooms are upstairs," he said, waving his hand at the wooden steps. "So is the bathroom. You'll like this, though." He led Gavin upstairs into another room. It held a hot tub big enough for two. "You said you hadn't skied for a while. Relaxing in the hot tub should sort out any aches from the day. Isn't it cool?"
"Oh yeah," Gavin replied. 'Oh no,' echoed in his mind. There was no way he could safely sit near Poitr if the blond was naked. He would never be able to get his body to behave. He stared at the innocuous tub. He was sure it was mocking him. Already a certain part of his body was trying to signal its approval.
"Let's get things stowed, then we can have a beer and relax a bit before hitting the sack," Poitr said brightly.
Gavin was as impressed with the bedroom as he had been with the rest of the cabin. The bed was Queen-sized, which meant space to stretch. The pillows were soft and clothed in cream cases and a thick duvet in forest green covered the bed. Extra pillows and throws were stored in the closet. Gavin stroked the soft, green throw folded at the bottom of his bed. As warm as he knew he would be in here, he wished he was going to be heated in a whole different way.
He stowed his clothes away, changing into soft light-grey sweat pants and a clean black polo shirt. He smiled wryly at himself. He had chosen clothes he thought he looked good in. 'Not as though it will have an impact on Poitr,' his mind added.
Back in the living room, the blond was stretched out on the floor, back against the warm-brown jacquard settee. Cushions had been liberally strewn on the floor in front of the couch and the single armchair. Gavin almost drooled. Poitr had exchanged jeans for sweat shorts and the brunette could swear he could see the outline of the younger man's quiescent sex. The long legs were lightly dusted with blond fur at the calves, but the rest of Poitr's skin was golden and smooth. He wore a matching tank top that showed a tight abdomen where it had ridden up and Poitr's toned arms.
"Grab a pew," Poitr laughed, waving his hand at the cushions.
"Cool," Gavin smiled. He opted to sit in front of the armchair. Less temptation and he would be able to enjoy the sight of the relaxed, beautiful blond. He gave a companionable grin as he accepted a beer. "Did you order champagne?" he asked as he settled himself comfortably.
"Well, sorta," Poitr confessed. "I know you like dry white wine and thought you might appreciate something a bit classier than beer. They must have misunderstood my request," he muttered, eyes fixed on the fire.
Gavin nodded. For a moment he had worried that Poitr was going to casually mention he was bringing company back to the cabin.
"That was a really nice gesture, man," he said, genuinely touched that Poitr had given thought to his likes and dislikes. "We can save it for our last night here."
"Cool," the blond nodded, then took a long drink of his beer.
The two men chatted amiably. They were both tired from the day's travel and the talk was just light, nothing that could prompt a more meaty debate. For all that had gone on in his mind, Gavin could not help but admire the beauty of his companion. The light from the flames made Poitr's skin look tanned and shadows chased each other over the expanse of his legs. Gavin could picture his hands, his mouth, following them. The younger man's hair had taken on an amber sheen and he almost looked devilish as he favoured Gavin with another easy, wide smile.
"I'm sorry, mate," Poitr said, covering his mouth as he yawned. "Need to turn in. Stay up if you want, not that there's anything but the fire to keep you company."
"That's ok," Gavin said, standing and stretching. "I could probably do with getting an early night myself. I don't want to make a fool of myself tomorrow."
"There'll be no problem," Poitr assured, as they headed for the stairs. "Just like riding a bike. Once you have your skis on and start to move, everything will come back."
They reached the bottom stair simultaneously. For a moment, Gavin had the notion that Poitr was eying his lips. The unexpected thought had his blood rushing south and he stepped quickly past the blond before his erection could be noticed.
"See you in the morning," he shouted, not daring to turn and barrelled into his room. In his haste he failed to see the hurt look from the younger man.
Gavin stripped quickly. He went to his wash bag and pulled out a fresh tube of lube. Although he had no current boyfriend, and was not promiscuous, lube and condoms were staples in his toiletries. He took a towel, a small packet of baby wipes and the lube and lay on the bed, his supplies at his side. Opening the tube, he squeezed the cool gel onto his fingers. His erection was red, hard and glistened wetly. He reached between his legs and teased his sac. He could feel how high and hard his balls were. He took a deep breath and relaxed a little. He wanted to enjoy his fantasy.
He pictured Poitr, back in front of the fire, this time the blond was naked. He was lying on his back, the firelight playing over his smooth-skinned body. At the image, Gavin fought back a low moan. He began to stroke himself slowly, evenly, a slight twist of his wrist as his hand reached the head of his arousal. His right hand travelled back to his sac and then stroked his perineum. He then rolled his balls carefully, wanting to play out the scene in his mind. He pictured Poitr rolling onto his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder, the arctic eyes ablaze with desire. The lush lips moved and the message was clear -- 'Take me'.
As Gavin pictured himself making love, his hips began to thrust hard into the tunnel of his hand. He pinched at his nipples, the dark nubs hidden in his chest hair. He could feel heat and need building as his hand flew over ever more sensitized flesh. Muting his cry of completion, his semen jetted in three thick pulses over his hand and lightly furred abdomen. He slowed his movements, as small aftershocks rippled through his body, and milked every last drop of his come. He panted softly in the afterglow as he lay drained. A leaden hand reached desultorily for the wipes and he cleansed himself. Dropping the wipe into the waste bin and the towel onto the floor, Gavin closed his eyes and was asleep in seconds.
****
The next morning they pored over the maps of the pistes on which they would ski. In deference to Gavin, they would try nothing more arduous than medium level and then after letting the older man find his feet on an easy slope or two.
