Deep Valley

By Natty Soltesz

“Fuck your girlfriend,” Patrick said to Rob, and they sunk into a tense silence that lasted the whole way up the slope.  The ski resort was closing and they were the last ones who’d been allowed to get in line for the lift.  Those behind them got turned away – parents and children, groups of teenagers who loudly voiced their disappointment.

Patrick had looked back at them, cheerful people in colorful winter gear streaming back toward the bright lodge, then shuffled forward in line a few steps behind Rob, his best friend.  Most of their day had been enjoyable.  Rob had been surprisingly flirtatious toward Patrick, racing him down the trails, even slapping his ass once when Patrick bent forward to adjust his boot.

The conflict had begun in the bathroom of the lodge just before they headed out for their last run.  They’d stood beside each other at the urinals, unzipping and unbuttoning through layers of clothing before unleashing their cocks and letting loose with a hot stream.

They were alone.  Rob looked askance at Patrick’s cock.

“Well hello there, Little Mr. Baker,” Rob said.  Baker was Patrick’s last name.

“He says hi back,” Patrick said, taking a long look at Rob’s cock, a look he wouldn’t have dared had it not been invited.

“Better not look too long at mine or yours’ll start to salute,” Rob said with a cocky smile, shaking off the last drops of piss and tucking his cock back in his pants.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Patrick said, finishing up.  They washed their hands beside each other.  “Anyway, you pop a boner as soon as you get your hands around mine.”

Patrick had barely gotten the words out before the door swung open and a guy, who was around their age, walked in.  Rob gave his friend a cold look and Patrick felt his stomach sink.

They left the lodge and re-attached their skis.  Rob was sullen.  Approaching the lift, Patrick felt his anger and frustration well up.

“Is it a fucking crime that I even acknowledge it?” he said to Rob in a fierce but quiet voice.  Rob, teeth clenched, looked off at the slope, looked like he would have been happy if an avalanche would bury them both and put an end to this particular conversation.  “It’s not like we only do it when we’re drunk anymore.  It’s all the time, and I’m sick of pretending like it isn’t.”

“It’s not me that’s trying to make it into something so fucking serious.  Stop making such a goddamn big dramatic deal out of it,” Rob said, moving quickly so that Patrick had to keep up in order to hear him.

“You’re the one who makes a big deal out of it,” Patrick said.  “You make it into this huge thing, to where I’m not even allowed to mention it without you looking like you want to punch me in the face.”

Rob’s fists were indeed clenched at his side.

“Well unlike you I have a girlfriend,” he said, over-enunciating the word like it was made of precious metal, and that’s when Patrick said what he’d said.


So the lift swung under their butts and whisked them away, the lights and sounds receding until nothing was left but the dark trees and howl of the wind.  They sat one seat apart.  Earlier they’d sat together, letting their thighs touch.

They got off the lift.  For a moment they stood beside one another.  It was quiet, they were alone, the rest of the skiers had already descended.  Then Rob pushed off and Patrick followed.  He was heading down the trail toward a black diamond, a slope Patrick had skied before but one that never failed to give him the willies.  Rob didn’t hesitate, didn’t wait to give Patrick a grin or a word of encouragement or derision, he just pushed off and left.

Patrick took a deep breath.  The drop was almost vertical.  He moved toward the edge, and then there was no stopping.  He was heading down, rushing faster and faster, trying not to think as he dug his skies in from side to side.  The slope rushed past as he maintained control, even letting himself straighten out a little, gaining in speed until he felt it, a wiggle, a little loss of confidence, and his ski wobbled more and he knew that he was going to lose it.

He fell, head over heels, careening down the slope as snow roughly crunched against his face and down his collar and the waist of his pants.  When it was over and he looked around he saw he was at the bottom.  Neither of his skies were attached to his feet.  He laid there for a minute, eyes on the empty sky.

“You alright?” Rob called, rushing toward him.  There was real fear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Patrick replied, starting to get up.  But there was a sharp pain in his thigh – and he immediately went back down.

Rob grabbed his arm and helped him up.

“Your foot?” Rob asked.

“No, my thigh.  It’s cramping up.”

“C’mon,” Rob said.  After taking off his skies he wrapped Patrick’s arm around his neck.  Together they hobbled toward a small cabin just at the edge of the woods.  Probably it had once been a ski patrol station, but now it was unused.

Rob unlatched the door and they hopped inside.  It was empty but for a wooden bench.  Rob helped Patrick sit down on it.  Patrick tried to stretch out his leg but winced from the pain.  He tore the gloves off of his hands and unzipped the leg of his snow pants, reaching in to massage it out.  “Fuck that fuckin hurts,” he said.

Rob got on his knees.

“Lemme see,” he said, and reached his hands around Patrick’s long-underwear-clad thigh.  He massaged the knot.  His hand were warm.  Patrick looked down at him, but Rob didn’t notice.  He seemed lost in his own world.  Patrick knew the look, and started getting hard.

Patrick’s thigh muscle began to relax.  Rob’s hands creeped higher and he felt what was there.  Patrick stood up and Rob stood with him.  He reached for Rob’s coat and zipped it open.  Rob did the same, the two of them uncasing stiff shells of winter gear until they got at the steaming hot flesh underneath.  Finally with bare chests and rock-hard cocks they came together, Rob hesitant at first, then kissing Patrick enthusiastically, their mouths conjoined and comingled, tongues reaching for one another.

Rob’s hands went right for Patrick’s cock, and in a minute he was on his knees, looking at it worshipfully.  It had always been like this, from the first time they’d jacked off together.  Patrick had an exceptional cock, thick and heavy, quite a contrast to Rob’s.  Rob lost all his posturing when it came to Patrick’s dick, all the macho shit melting away, his girlfriend likely the furthest thing from his mind.  He hefted the dick in his palm, letting it graze across his hand, gazing at it.  Then he took it in his mouth.

Yes, the mixed messages that Patrick often tried to process in his confused mind fell away when Rob knelt before him, because then it was perfectly clear:  Rob loved sucking his cock.  Rob, his best friend since junior year of high school, the guy who liked to shoot his guns and go four-wheeling in the woods, simply collapsed at the sight of his dick, couldn’t stuff enough of it down his throat, would blow him passionately at the sight of it and enjoy it to the last drop.

Patrick placed his hand on Rob’s knit cap.  He took it off and tossed it onto the wooden floor.  Rob’s floppy black hair fell over his eyes, undulating with the bobs of his head.  Patrick put his hand on the back of Rob’s head and subtly pushed him along.  In the silvery light that reflected into the cabin’s windows, he saw Rob’s lips stretching to accommodate the base of his shaft.  Rob had him to the hilt.  He grasped Patrick’s balls, his lips pressed against his pubes, letting Patrick’s cock rest in his throat.

Patrick backed him off and pulled Rob to his feet.  He felt for Rob’s cock – which was small but perfect, diamond-hard and slick with precum.  He knelt down before Rob and took his cock in his mouth, enjoying it for what he could.  Blowing Rob never lasted long, even though Patrick felt like it was where he was meant to be – he liked Rob’s little dick, he liked pleasuring his hot friend more than he liked getting sucked by him, even; but Rob would inevitably push him off after a minute or so.  Once Rob admitted to Patrick that he thought his dick was pathetic and didn’t understand why anybody would want to suck it.  It didn’t matter how much Patrick said he liked it.  Rob didn’t want to hear that shit, anyway.

Instead of letting Rob push him away Patrick motioned for Rob to join him on the floor.  It was a little dusty, but fine, and they met up head-to-crotch for a sixty nine.  Patrick had found that Rob could lose himself like this, as long as he had Patrick’s cock in his mouth.  The position was awkward but Patrick made sure Rob had full rein over his cock, holding his balls in one hand and chugging the thick dick past his gag reflex.  Patrick had to adjust his neck to reach Rob’s, which was leaky as all hell, his nuts drawn up tight around the base.

It seemed easier for Patrick to be on top of Rob, so he rolled him over and swung one leg over the side of Rob’s head.  Rob groaned as his throat was stuffed full of Patrick’s meat and Patrick had an easier time taking Rob.  He knew they would cum like this, dicks in each other’s mouths, and he knew they could do it at the same time.  Rob was close.  Patrick took his cute butt in his hands and boldly dug his fingers into Rob’s crack.  Rob couldn’t have protested even if he’d wanted to, but to Patrick it seemed that Rob spread his legs just as far as his bunched-up pants would allow.

Patrick found Rob’s butthole, scorching and sweaty.  He pressed his fingertip to it, feeling Rob suck him deep.  Without warning Rob let his jizz fly, his asshole clenching as shot after shot of cream flooded Patrick’s throat.  Patrick let himself go then, too, hearing Rob’s satisfied gulps as he swallowed down his jizz.

They were done.  They dressed in silence, but it wasn’t tense silence anymore.  Sometimes the sex made things tenser – made Rob turn away in shame and run off to the bathroom or leave without another word.  And sometimes it ended up like this – the sex softening things, paving a smooth exit, Rob offering a warm goodbye and the promise for a phone call the next day.

They gathered their skis and then Patrick followed Rob, the two of them shushing through the snow to the closest lift, but before they reached it it was clear that it had stopped running.  Patrick felt a rising panic in the quiet of the falling snow.  How were they going to get back to the lodge?  How were they going to get home?  He looked to Rob and saw that he didn’t know either.