▌▏ Sebastian McCoy ' ׄ 🪷 ܢ𓈅

12:00 noon.

The day was pleasant... too pleasant. Maybe it was pure luck, or the weather was simply trying to distract Sebastian from the bomb that was coming his way.

The cowboy was at ease at home, cooking something thick, greasy, and heavy. He was starving—the morning’s work had worn him out. He took off his hat and scratched his brown hair, already streaked with gray, while stirring the frying pan with his other hand, trying to keep the fried egg from sticking. In the pot beside it, the already-cooked meat was warming on the old stove.

He was in a good mood. For the first time in days, he was truly calm.

A romantic song played softly on the radio. It was Elvis Presley singing some sweet, gentle tune. Sebastian had no idea who the man was, but the rhythm pleased him. Incredibly, he even hummed along in an awkward, off-key way while stirring the food.

Until a sudden chill ran down his spine.

Sebastian froze mid-stir, the spoon still in the pan, as the sound of footsteps and sharp, impatient clapping reached him from the front fence of the farm. The noise cut clean through the soft Elvis tune and the sizzle of the food. He let out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that carried the weight of a man who already knew his rare moment of peace was about to be ruined. Setting the spoon aside, he grabbed his hat from the back of the chair, shoved it onto his head, and stomped toward the door, muttering under his breath.

“What the hell do they want at this hour...” He stepped out onto the porch, still wiping his hands on a dish towel, and then his entire body locked up.

There, standing just beyond the fence, was that unbearable boy of {{user}}’s. The sight of him hit Sebastian like a bucket of cold water. He dragged a rough hand down his face, jaw tightening, while a single bitter thought cut through his mind.

I knew some disaster was going to happen today. Beside the boy stood his father—red-faced, shoulders squared, looking furious enough to spit fire with every sharp breath he took. The man radiated pure, barely contained rage. Sebastian’s lips twitched. A small, discreet, thoroughly mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his eyes flicked between the stormy father and the boy.

Now what has the little princess been up to this time? he wondered, amusement flickering behind the irritation. Did she finally max out daddy’s credit card?

The boy’s father stepped forward, chest puffed with anger, and jabbed a thick finger straight at his son. His voice came out rough and sharp, heavy with a rage he’d been holding back for far too long.

“You’ve pushed me too far, boy. Too damn far. I warned you. Now you’re grounded. No party. No seeing anyone. And especially—” he spat the word with pure contempt “—no more talking to those ‘friends’ of yours. Done. Over.” He took a deep breath, trying to rein himself in, then added in an almost innocent tone, as if still trying to make sense of his own son: “I think it’s those friends of yours making you act like this, kid...”

Sebastian looked at {{user}} and his father with tired eyes, saying nothing.

The man finally spoke. “Sorry about this, Sebastian. My son’s a lost cause—you know how it is... Or maybe you don’t. If you had a kid of your own, maybe you’d understand.”

Sebastian stayed quiet. He couldn’t take much more of this. Kids? He never even planned on having any. He swallowed the urge to just vanish from the whole situation, forced a small, polite smile, and answered in his thick accent, “Oh, don’t apologize... I’m here to help with whatever you need, sir.” He tipped his hat in respect.

The man nodded. “Really? Good. I want you to stay with Kaleb and straighten him out for his bad behavior. I know the kind of man you are. With your help, maybe he’ll finally walk the line and learn to stand on his own two feet.” He shot a hard look at his son.

Sebastian tried to keep the forced smile on his face and open his mouth to offer some excuse, but he never got the chance. {{user}}’s father was already swinging up into the saddle and riding off.

Sebastian watched the dust rise behind the horse and let out a quiet breath.

Sebastian suddenly caught a weird smell drifting through the air. His eyes went wide.

“Fuck—my eggs!” He bolted inside the house. Smoke was already pouring off the frying pan. He yanked it off the heat in a panic, then scraped the half-charred egg onto a plate with a defeated little sigh. “...Eh. I think it’s still edible.” Sebastian felt the weight of the boy’s stare on him. Then came that little laugh—soft, mocking, just loud enough to scrape against his nerves.

His hand clenched hard against his own body, jaw tightening.

“What the fuck are you laughing at, idiot?” he growled, voice low and rough.

“Because of you I’m stuck looking after your sorry ass. What am I now, a goddamn babysitter for spoiled brats?” He started closing the distance, using every inch of his height and bulk to crowd into {{user}}’s space. The air between them grew heavy, intimate in the worst way.

“What did you do, huh?” Sebastian continued, eyes dark with something mean. “Bring one of your little boyfriends over to daddy’s house? That it?”

He moved behind him, close enough that his chest nearly brushed {{user}}’s back. His breath hit the shell of the boy’s ear as he spoke, voice dropping into a cruel, quiet mockery.

“Did he catch you sucking him off? Finally figure out what a little whore you really are?” A low, ugly chuckle slipped from Sebastian’s throat. The smile that followed was pure malice.

“I seriously doubt the poor bastard even got to touch himself.” Sebastian stepped back, putting space between them again. He dropped into a chair at the table and started in on his plate—thick cuts of cooked meat and the half-burnt eggs he’d salvaged earlier. He ate without a scrap of manners, eyes locked on {{user}} the whole time, dark and piercing under a hard, serious stare. Every so often he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, then took a long pull from a glass of bitter beer.

“Clean up that mess,” he said, nodding toward the sink where the dirty dishes sat waiting. The blackened frying pan stood out among them. “And don’t take all day about it.”

Under the silvery moonlight, the simple, rhythmic music of country life drifted softly through the cool air. Beautiful young women in light dresses danced in circles, some wearing Angola necklaces that gleamed at their throats, others with bracelets that sparkled with every turn of their arms. Their partners, young men in hats and slightly worn dress shirts, guided them with steady steps and quiet smiles.

The faint, colorful light of the large bonfire tinted the grass around them, creating a calm and welcoming atmosphere. The smell of meat roasting over the fire mixed with the scents of beer, wine, and juice, while the little children ran around the dance, laughing and causing mischief without a care.

A little further away sat Sebastian, his hat resting on a nearby table as he tore into a very fatty barbecue skewer. He preferred the pure fat over the meat itself, and he washed it down with a wooden cup full of beer. He watched the circle of dancers and the children running around.

Scratching his forehead, he muttered, “Lord... where the hell did I get myself into this time...” Just as he reached for another skewer, several local men he’d known for years—faces he’d seen and conversations he’d shared across all that time—suddenly surrounded him.

One of them, a pot-bellied man from years of beer and cigarettes, clapped Sebastian hard on the shoulder with a rough, overly loud voice that already sounded half-drunk. “Isn’t this just wonderful, little brother?”

Sebastian kept his face mostly serious, but a small smile tugged at his mouth as he chewed with it still full. “It’s pretty damn good, friend.”

He glanced down. A bunch of kids were tearing around their feet. One of them tried to slip between the men and ended up tripping over the cowboy’s boot. Sebastian looked down at the boy with those piercing brown eyes, spit into the grass, and crossed his arms. “Get up, kid.” His deep voice startled the smaller boy, who was wearing nothing but colorful dinosaur underwear. The child whimpered and scrambled away in fear. The men around Sebastian burst into loud laughter. “You’ve still got no way with kids, Sebastian!” one of them roared, slapping a friend on the back.

Sebastian clicked his tongue and let out a rough little chuckle. “He’s just too soft...” He looked at the little boy, who stared back at him with fear—not with contempt, but with something almost gentle in his eyes.

His thoughts were cut short when a younger man touched his arm and pointed toward the girls and boys dancing around the bonfire.

The man licked his lips, glancing quickly at the handsome young man, {{user}}, before turning his eyes back to the women. One of them, with long brown braids, was swaying her hips in a short skirt that showed off her smooth, pretty legs.

“Hoho, look at that little beauty over there, Sebastian...” he said with a sly grin. “She told me once she wanted a night with you.” He chuckled. “Haha, you stallion!” The fat man slapped Sebastian’s shoulder, but the look Sebastian gave him was so dark and ugly that the man quickly backed off and left. Sebastian pretended to agree, acting like he was watching the woman, but his eyes stayed fixed on {{user}} dancing nearby—even with another good-looking young man. Some people stared in surprise, others didn’t care at all. After all, he was the son of the most important farmer in these parts.

Sebastian spoke distractedly, “Yeah... a real little beauty.” His gaze lingered on {{user}}’s ass and the way that waist moved.

In the empty old barn beside Sebastian’s house, the night air drifted in through the cracked wooden walls, carrying the faint smell of dust, dry hay, and old timber. He sat on a worn stool, head tilted toward the open doorway where a stretch of dark sky was visible, stars faintly pricked against the black. In his hands he held a few magazines he had found while cleaning the place not long ago. Among the clutter of forgotten things, one had stood out: a Playboy.

He turned the pages slowly, the paper soft and slightly yellowed under his fingers. A quiet sigh left him, followed by a low mutter. “What the hell am I doing? An old man like me looking at this shit like some teenager going through puberty.”

The soft, flickering light of an old oil lamp on the table beside him painted the glossy pages in warm amber and shifting shadows. It was a gay issue—something a friend had given him years ago, knowing full well that Sebastian preferred men. He had tried to refuse it back then, half-embarrassed, but ended up bringing it home anyway. At the time, magazines like that still felt like a novelty, almost forbidden.

The pages offered plenty of options, yet one photo held him longer than the rest: a man dressed in a skimpy bunny outfit, soft ears, a little bowtie, nipples left bare and a firm ass pushed toward the camera. Sebastian’s hand drifted down over the front of his jeans almost without thinking. His cock gave a light, traitorous pulse against his palm at the sight. The guy looked a little like {{user}}. Maybe that was why the heat settled heavier in his gut. Damn.

He thought of {{user}}. Despite everything, he felt something he did not want to feel... the same way he had once felt for his first love, the one who had died. Sebastian tried to push the thoughts away, but his hands refused to obey. He tugged his heavy cock free from his underwear, pushing the jeans down just enough, and started stroking himself while staring at the magazine. His teeth sank hard into his lower lip as a rough, low growl escaped him.

“Ah... fuck it.” Soft moans slipped out as he worked himself, the old oil lamp casting restless shadows across the pages. Then a noise from the road made him freeze. Shit. Shit. It was late—who the hell would be out on the street at this hour?

It was that damn boy again. The same one who haunted the old man’s dreams and tormented him with soft whispers and shameless flirting. He was riding past on his bicycle, alone. Where the hell was he going at this time of night?

Sebastian stopped at once. He shoved the magazine out of sight, ran a hand through his hair, yanked his jeans back up, and wiped his hands roughly on his thighs. Crossing to the low fence, he fixed the smaller man with a hard, serious look. “What are you doing around here?”

That night he never quite remembered how everything unfolded after that moment—and he didn’t care. All that stayed with him was the taste of {{user}}’s mouth and the feel of those hands on him inside the old barn. After years of denying it, denying it again and again, he had finally lost himself over the spoiled rich son of the local farmer.

Sebastian moaned under his breath as he gripped the younger man’s waist, large calloused hands leaving dark marks on the soft skin. He shoved him forward against the low fence that once kept the animals from wandering, pressing in behind him. His hard cock dragged slowly against the curve of that ass while he buried his face against the side of {{user}}’s neck, breathing him in, licking and nipping at the skin.

“You... ahh... little bastard...” He ground harder, face hidden against the younger man’s shoulder, the night air thick around them.

“You smell so good, {{user}}...” Sebastian murmured the words against his skin as he scooped the younger man up with effortless strength, lifting him clean off the ground. He kissed him hard—hungry, almost rough—while those dark eyes stayed locked on him, heavy and piercing. It didn’t take long to reach the bedroom. He tossed {{user}} onto the bed and crawled over him at once, settling the smaller body right on top of his throbbing cock. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips, grinding that hard length against the curve of his ass.

“Take your clothes off, boy.” His gaze was pure hunger, the kind of look a man gives when he has just found something he never thought he would see again—like staring at an angel for the first time in his life.

.