Page 33 of Trapped for Christmas

The cabin was like nothing Zeb had ever seen before. He hadn’t been out of the city since the age of fourteen. Zeb had grown up in Philadelphia, and when he’d been kicked out at fourteen, he’d hitchhiked to New York. The aim had been to get away from his family, but not too far away in case he ever needed to get home for something. A part of him had hoped they might come looking for him at some point, but they hadn’t, and there had never been a reason for him to return to his hometown in the years he’d been gone. His family probably assumed he was dead. That’s what they were to Zeb.

New York had offered opportunities to make money. He’d known if he’d asked for help officially, they’d likely call the authorities and assume he was a runaway. The last thing he’d wanted was for his parents to be contacted. They could have put him into care, or worse, taken him back to save face. There had been a threat to lock him in the basement if he didn’t get out of the house within the next ten minutes. That was the last thing his mother had said to him. She’d been the one spouting all the hateful words at him. His father had barely spoken, just looked at Zeb with disappointment in his eyes.

He’d had no other option but to sleep on the streets to avoid the authorities. It was summer when he’d been kicked out, so it had given him a false sense of security before the winter hit. He’d gotten by after befriending some of the other kids on the streets, and they begged for money from locals and tourists. Being a kid had made it difficult for people to just walk past him. He’d always shared his haul with the other boys each day. Others had picked pockets, but that wasn’t something Zeb could do. It just felt wrong. But he had no judgement for those who did it out of desperation.

Men had offered him money to have sex with them all the time. He’d always refused. Zeb had known he was gay from a young age, but he’d still been a virgin. There were other queer kids on the streets with him, but they’d felt more like family. Zeb had always dreamed of a handsome older man swooping in to rescue him and treat him like a prince.

One night, when it was freezing cold, a handsome guy in a suit, and probably still in his thirties, had offered Zeb a warm bed for the night in exchange for sex. That was the night he’d lost his virginity in a luxury hotel room. Zeb didn’t mention it was his first time, but it was possible the man suspected, as he’d been gentle with him. He’d insisted they have sex missionary style so he could look into Zeb’s eyes and give him pleasure. It had felt incredibly intimate and almost romantic. For a moment he’d wondered if this was going to be his Pretty Woman moment.

The man’s words had been kind, and he’d showered Zeb with praise. They’d had sex more than once, and he’d held Zeb in his arms all night. It was hard not to imagine having a future with the man. He hadn’t been able to stop his brain from imagining a happily ever after.

In the morning, the guy had been different. He wasn’t rude or anything. He’d given Zeb five hundred bucks for the night, which was double what he’d asked for. Zeb had overheard one of the other boys say it was two fifty for an overnight, so he’d gone with that. The man had needed to leave for work, so had ordered breakfast for Zeb and told him to see himself out. There had been no talk of a follow-up. The morning had felt very businesslike, and Zeb had never seen him again.

He’d made the money last for a couple of weeks, but it was still winter so there weren’t many people around to beg from. Everyone was rushing around to get home or to their hotel. When another guy had offered money again for sex, Zeb had agreed. It had been very different. The man was a lot older, unattractive, stank of body odor, and had been rough. The entire experience had lasted less than ten minutes, though, so that was something. After that, it became easier. He would just switch his emotions off whenever he was with a guy, and he’d never locked eyes with a man again when they fucked him. It was always doggy style or on his stomach. It made it so much easier to disassociate.

That first time had always felt different to Zeb. It was special in a way, with the way he’d been treated. If that second john had been the first man he’d been with, he probably wouldn’t ever have dreamed of romance. Zeb had told Hunter about his first time with the handsome man, and his best friend had reminded Zeb that he was fourteen, so he’d just been another pervert. Trust his best friend to bring him back to reality. It didn’t matter to Zeb, though. The way the man had looked at him as they’d had sex had made him feel special, and was something he’d never felt with anyone else since, even with the men he’d had relationships with.

Brandon, John, and now Kaden had all been abusive assholes who had treated Zeb like he was their own personal property. Brandon had terrified him, which is why when John had first laid a hand on Zeb, he was gone. There was no way he would let things get that bad again. He hadn’t been able to see that Kaden was isolating him from everyone in his life, as John had never done that. Every relationship he’d had was a distinct form of abuse.

Part of him thought it would be best to stay single for a while, but then he looked at Mason. There was a man who would never treat Zeb badly. Yes, he could be a grumpy bastard, and he was a big control freak, but he would never stop Zeb from being his own person. Now he was in his beautiful cabin, and it was just the two of them for the next two nights. As Zeb’s eyes continued to explore the cabin, he spotted the kitchen and chuckled.

“What?” asked Mason.

“I’m guessing the kitchen didn’t come like this,” he said, walking into the space.

It was like being back home in New York. Was it wrong that he thought of Mason’s place as home? Everywhere he’d stayed since that day, when he was fourteen, had felt temporary. He knew it wasn’t a permanent arrangement, but he could enjoy it for as long as it lasted. Mason had insisted he stay as long as he needed. Well, he needed to be living with Mason for the rest of his life. A statement he wouldn’t be saying aloud.

“What do you mean?” asked Mason with a smile.

Zeb loved that he got to see Mason smile more than anyone else. Even his best friends called him a grumpy bastard.

“It’s giving ‘copy the one in the city, but smaller, with a cabin vibe,’ or am I wrong?”

“No comment,” Mason grumbled, causing Zeb to laugh.

Mason smiled again. “Let me show you to the bedroom so you can unpack your stuff, and I’ll put all the food away.”

“I thought we were only here for two days,” said Zeb, looking at the half-dozen bulging bags on the kitchen side.

“I wanted us to have options.”

“You don’t have to cook all the time, you know. This should be a break for you as well.”

“Cooking isn’t work to me, especially when it’s for you.”

Zeb’s breath caught, and Mason’s eyes widened for a second, realizing what he’d just said. Was he blushing? Before Zeb could say anything, Mason spun around and picked up Zeb’s suitcase.

“Follow me,” he said, his voice cracking.

Seeing Mason looking flustered was, dare he say it, cute. Not a word he’d associate with the man for whom he would happily drop to his knees if he ever asked.

The bedroom was enormous, and probably took up about a third of the cabin space when you included the bathroom. The cabin was larger than Zeb had been expecting. When he’d heard “cabin,” he’d assumed small, and although it had a cozy vibe to it, Zeb could probably sit in the living area and not hear the shower. It was still a confined space, so it would be hard to keep his distance, which was supposed to be the plan. Now he was here, Zeb was having doubts that this was such a good idea. Perhaps if he tried to ignore his friends’ voices in his head, he could just relax and enjoy himself.

“Did you not bring your stuff?” asked Zeb.

“I’ll keep it out there with me,” he said, gesturing back to the living space.

“What do you mean?” His heart thudded, assuming the worst.