"Wait!"
Peony shouted into the empty air, her hand reaching out as if to grab someone. She jerked awake, her chest heaving, her lips still pouted and parted, anticipating a kiss that had been interrupted by reality.
She blinked, confused by the brightness.
She looked around, disoriented. The high ceiling of the canvas tent, the scent of cedar and expensive cologne—it all rushed back.
Right. The tent.
The memories of the previous night didn't trickle in; they flooded her mind in high-definition. The river. The gravel. The bed.
They hadn't stopped. It had been a blur of skin and heat and insatiable need. She remembered Tobey pausing for a bathroom break, checking his watch on the way out, and groaning that it was already 4:00 AM. They had gone at it for hours, fueled by a stamina that didn't make sense.
We should be exhausted, she thought, rubbing her eyes. We should be dead on our feet.
But she wasn't.
She looked down at herself. She was alone in the massive mattress. She wasn't wearing her bikini or her clothes from yesterday. Instead, she was drowning in a fresh, grey t-shirt that clearly belonged to Timothy. It hung off her shoulders, the hem reaching her mid-thighs. Underneath, she was bare. A soft, coffee-brown duvet was pulled up to her waist, keeping her warm.
Through the mesh screen of the tent entrance, she saw movement.
Her breath hitched.
It was Timothy. He was standing outside by the portable stove, his back to her. He was nearly naked, wearing only a pair of tight gray boxer briefs that clung to his glutes and... a royal-blue cooking apron tied around his waist.
The sight of his massive, muscular back contrasted with the domestic apron made her mouth go dry.
Peony unconsciously brought a finger to her mouth, biting down on the knuckle as a flush of heat traveled down her neck. She remembered the weight of that body pinning her down. She remembered the way he had massaged her breasts, the way he had owned her.
Her hand drifted down, cupping herself between her legs.
She flinched instinctively, waiting for the soreness. She braced herself for the stinging ache that always followed a rough night. In her past relationships, even with men of average size, a night like this would have left her limping. She would have felt bruised, raw, and exhausted.
But... nothing.
She pressed deeper. There was no pain. No soreness. No abrasion.
How?
She knew what she had felt last night. Timothy wasn't average. He was huge—built like a mythical creature in every sense. Logically, she should be unable to walk this morning.
Instead, she felt... electric.
A hum of energy vibrated through her limbs. The fatigue from months of filming was gone. The trauma from the boar attack was a distant memory. She felt stronger, healthier, and more alive than she had been in her entire life.
He didn't just sleep with me, she realized, staring at his broad back with a mixture of confusion and awe. He fixed me.
Through the mesh screen, the smell hit her—a savory, mouth-watering combination that made her stomach growl loudly.
It was the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans, mingling with the salty, fatty scent of sizzling bacon and fried potatoes.
Tobey was moving the spatula with the precision of a Michelin-star chef. In the large cast-iron skillet over the portable stove, he was tossing golden-brown cubes of potatoes with fresh herbs. On a plate beside him, a mountain of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and glistening strips of thick-cut bacon were already piled high, waiting to be served.
It was a heavy, hearty breakfast—exactly what two people who had burned thousands of calories all night needed.
A smile bloomed on Peony's face—small at first, then stretching wide and genuine. She felt lighter than air. There was no shame, no "morning-after" regret clawing at her stomach. Just a warm, bubbling sense of contentment that she hadn't felt in years.
She slid out of the bed, her bare feet silent on the tent floor. She pulled the hem of the oversized gray t-shirt down, though it barely covered her thighs, and crept toward the entrance
She watched his broad back flex as he cooked. The urge to touch him was magnetic. She unzipped the screen slowly, trying to be stealthy, intending to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her face in that muscular back.
But she underestimated him.
Before she could even step onto the grass, Tobey stiffened. His enhanced senses picked up the subtle shift in the air, the rustle of fabric, or maybe just her presence.
He turned around in one fluid motion, the spatula still in his hand.
Peony froze, caught in the act of sneaking up on him.
She expected him to look guilty. She expected him to look away, or to have that stony, awkward expression men usually wore when they realized they had crossed a line.
But he didn't.
Tobey looked at her—really looked at her—taking in the sight of her in his shirt, her hair messy, her cheeks flushed with sleep. And then, his expression softened. The hard lines of his face relaxed, and a sweet, gentle smile curved his lips. It wasn't a smirk of conquest; it was the warm, easy smile of someone genuinely happy to see her.
"Morning beautiful," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in her chest.
He didn't wait for her to come to him.
Tobey stepped away from the stove, setting the spatula down on the folding table with a soft clatter. In two long strides, he crossed the distance between them. Before Peony could say a word, he reached out and scooped her up as easily as if she were a child.
Peony's instincts took over. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his waist, clinging to him like a koala. Being this high up, eye-to-level with him, felt right. It felt safe.
He didn't speak. He just leaned in and captured her lips.
It wasn't the frantic, starving collision of the night before. This kiss was slow, deep, and overwhelmingly sensual. It was a lazy exploration, a silent acknowledgment of everything they had shared in the dark. They tasted the morning on each other—warm, sleepy, and intimate.
When they finally broke apart, they didn't go far. Tobey rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing. They stayed there for a long moment, breathing in the same air, sharing the quiet intimacy of the morning.
Tobey's large hand drifted up and down her spine, rubbing soothing circles into her lower back. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his expression clouded with a sudden, heavy worry.
"Are you sore?"
His voice was weak, laced with guilt. He knew what he had done. He knew the size of him, the force he had used, and the sheer endurance of the night. He had been relentless, and logically, he should have broken her.
Peony felt heat rush to her cheeks, turning them a deep crimson.
She shook her head, a small, shy movement.
There was no pain. No ache. Just a pleasant fullness and a buzzing vitality that made her feel invincible. But saying that out loud felt too embarrassing. instead, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling against the warm, rough hair of his chest, hiding her smile against his skin.
Holding her like this, with her soft curves pressed against his bare chest and her skin brushing against his, Tobey felt his control slipping. His body reacted instantly, hardening against her thigh. The urge to carry her back to the mattress and bury himself deep inside her tight pussy was overwhelming, roaring in his blood.
But he restrained himself. Barely.
He leaned in, capturing her lips for another deep kiss, before breaking away with a quick, playful peck. He gave her a firm, resounding slap on her butt.
"Go, freshen up," he swatted her again, lightly. "I already filled the drum water container in the bathroom. When you get back, we eat."
He loosened his grip to let her down, but Peony didn't budge. She kept her arms locked around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist, smiling at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"I don't want to use my feet," she declared, lifting her chin. "Send me to the bathroom."
Tobey chuckled, shaking his head. He reached up and pinched her nose affectionately.
"Yes, Your Highness."
He turned and walked toward the back of the tent where the makeshift privacy screen and bathroom area were set up. He carried her effortlessly, as if she were a backpack. When they arrived, he lowered her gently until her feet touched the mat.
"Oh!" Peony patted her pockets, feigning innocence. "I forgot my toiletries. Can you get them for me?"
Tobey smirked, seeing right through her act but playing along anyway. "Okay, Your Highness. Your wish is my command."
*****
The breakfast was sumptuous, the salty bacon and fluffy eggs replenishing the energy they had burned the night before.
Afterward, they headed down to the river to bathe.
The cool river water swirled around their ankles as Tobey and Peony waded in, the morning sun warming their backs. What started as a practical washing after a sumptuous campfire breakfast quickly dissolved into something else. Tobey's large hands moved from scrubbing Peony's back with a rough cloth to simply tracing the wet, slick curves of her skin. The soap's scent was replaced by the clean, earthy smell of the river and the rising heat between them.
Peony leaned back into his solid chest, her head resting on his shoulder as his hands roamed freely, cupping her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they pebbled into tight points. She turned in his arms, the water lapping at their waists, and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. Their mouths met in a deep, hungry kiss, tasting of river water and unspoken desire. Tobey's cock, already hard and thick, pressed against her stomach, a testament to his immediate need.
He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his powerful torso. The water buoyed her weight as he positioned her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. With a low groan, he thrust into her in one smooth, deep stroke. Peony gasped, her nails digging into the broad muscles of his shoulders as he filled her completely. The water around them seemed to heat with their passion, splashing with each powerful movement.
Tobey's grip on her ass was firm, controlling the rhythm as he drove into her again and again. The angle was perfect, the water adding a silky friction that heightened every sensation.
Peony met his thrusts, rolling her hips, grinding against him as the pressure built deep within her core. She could feel the tension in his thighs, the raw power coiled in his body as he pistoned into her. His breath was hot against her neck, his grunts of pleasure mingling with her soft cries.
"Timmmm," she moaned as the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her. Her inner walls clenched around him, rippling and milking his shaft. The sensation sent him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her and came, his hot release flooding her as he shuddered against her. They stayed locked together for a long moment, their bodies trembling in the aftermath, the gentle current of the river a soothing caress against their spent skin.
They went for a few more rounds right there in the shallows, the cool water doing little to dampen their heat. The moans and slapping skin filled the air. It defied logic; any normal couple would be exhausted, unable to move. But the Vitality coursing through them kept them energized. If Tobey hadn't finally summoned the will to stop, pulling away with a groan of frustration, they never would have finished bathing.
By the time they dressed for the hike, the sun was high and bright. They had agreed to explore the Motahowk Forest, to discover the hidden beauty of the mountain before they had to return to reality.
For now, they were like a newly married couple on their honeymoon. They were just happy, lost in their own little world, conveniently forgetting the ticking clock—forgetting the moment they would have to say goodbye and return to their separate lives.
"Let's go?"
Tobey offered his hand, waiting for her. But Peony delayed. She stood there, staring at him.
He was dressed for the trail in brown leather hiking boots, black hiking shorts, and a dark green Adidas shirt that hugged his frame like a second skin. The fabric strained against his muscular chest and rippling abs, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her eyes traveled down to his black shorts, lingering shamelessly on the impressive bulge in his crotch area.
"Peony," he prompted, amusement coloring his tone.
Peony chuckled, biting her lip as she dragged her gaze back up to his handsome face and those electric blue eyes that seemed to see right through her.
"Yes," she breathed, taking his hand. "Let's go."
She looked just as ready for the adventure, wearing pink leggings that accentuated her long legs, a white long-sleeved shirt to protect against the sun and bugs, and sturdy black hiking shoes. They both topped off their outfits with matching white ball caps.
Hand in hand, they turned toward the treeline.