Page 61 of The Summer Intern

Matt

Thebackpackingtripwasincredible, but the whole time, there was an empty space where he should have been.And when I returned, muscles aching from three days of guiding teenage campers through mountain trails, the only thing I wanted to do was to go to his cabin and get him.But first, I needed a shower.And a change of clothes.

I frowned as I unlocked my door, because something was different.A pair of neon green sneakers—unmistakably Casey's—lay haphazardly by the entrance.My exhaustion evaporated instantly.Had he used my keys after all?

The backpack slid from my shoulders and hit the floor with a dull thud.I winced at the noise, worried about waking him if he was sleeping.I scanned the main living area—Casey's guitar leaned against my couch, the one I'd impulsively bought him for his birthday.Sheet music was scattered across my coffee table, along with an empty mug that still held the dregs of what was likely green tea.

I glanced up toward the loft and caught sight of his duffle bag at the foot of my unmade bed.The soft sound of snoring drifted down, confirming my suspicion.Something inside me uncoiled, a tension I hadn't realized I was carrying.

He was here.Despite all his protests about not needing my keys, despite his constant reminders that he was heading back to Oregon at summer's end, despite the careful line we were supposed to be maintaining—Casey Kim was in my bed.

I wanted nothing more than to climb up that ladder and wrap myself around him, bury my face in his hair, and breathe him in.But three days on the trail meant I smelled like sweat, campfire, and teenage drama.No way I was subjecting him to that, especially if I wanted the kind of welcome I was hoping for.

The bathroom beckoned.I kicked off my hiking boots and peeled off my socks, leaving them by the door.My clothes followed a trail to the bathroom—a habit Casey routinely mocked me for, but I was in a hurry, and I wasn't about to waste time folding laundry.

I turned the shower on, and while waiting for it to warm, I caught my reflection in the mirror—three days of stubble, hair looking wild after being stuffed under a cap, and a lingering flush across my cheekbones from sun exposure.The hot water was a blessing on my sore muscles, but I rushed through my shower routine, eager to be up in my bed.With him.The thought of Casey upstairs was magnetic.

I shut off the tap and dried quickly, running a hand through my damp hair.I brushed my teeth, threw on a clean pair of boxer briefs, and padded quietly to the base of the ladder that led to my loft bedroom, heart pounding as I checked again, hardly believing that he was there.

Pausing at the bottom rung, I listened.The soft, even sound of Casey's breathing made me smile.My grumpy, opinionated summer fling, so peaceful in sleep.It was a rare sight—Casey was usually vibrating with energy, arguing passionately about queer rights or the arts or telling me why my music taste was "tragically hetero-normative."

I climbed the ladder silently, each movement careful and measured.When my head cleared the loft floor, I froze.

The sight before me punched the air from my lungs.

Casey lay sprawled across my bed, one arm flung overhead, the other resting on his stomach.He wore only an oversized t-shirt—one of mine, I realized with a possessive thrill—rucked up to expose his lower half.His pale thighs were splayed open, his soft cock resting against his stomach.And between his legs, unmistakably, was the base of a silicone dildo, the toy disappearing inside him.

A single bedside lamp cast the scene in a warm, golden glow, highlighting the curve of his hip, the smooth expanse of his thighs, the contrast of the blue toy against his skin.

My mouth went dry.Blood rushed from my brain directly south.

I finished climbing into the loft, my movements still quiet but no longer from fear of waking him—now it was to prolong this unexpected gift, this intimate discovery.He'd prepped himself for me.I approached the bed, taking in every detail: the slight parting of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

This beautiful, complicated man who pushed every one of my buttons—who challenged me, frustrated me, and made me feel more alive than I had in years—had missed me.

He'd never admit it, of course.He'd have some acerbic explanation ready, something about my bed being more comfortable than his camp mattress or the cabin being too noisy with his brother Oliver staying there.But his body told a different story.The toy.The position.My t-shirt.

Casey had been thinking about me.

A half-smile tugged at my lips as I lowered myself carefully onto the edge of the bed.The mattress dipped under my weight, but Casey didn't stir.Up close, I could see the faint flush on his cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on his brow.I wondered how long ago he'd fallen asleep, how long he'd fucked himself before with the dildo before exhaustion took over.

I wondered if he'd made himself come.

Without overthinking it, I leaned down and pressed my lips against his.A gentle kiss, but insistent—enough pressure to register, to pull him back to consciousness.His lips were soft and warm beneath mine, and I felt him stir, felt the moment awareness began to seep into his body.

Casey made a muffled sound against my mouth, something between a groan and a whine.His eyebrows furrowed as consciousness returned, and I pulled back just enough to watch his eyes flutter open.

Recognition dawned slowly across his features—first confusion, then awareness, followed quickly by his trademark scowl.

"You're late," he grumbled, voice thick with sleep.He shifted and then froze, clearly remembering the toy still inside him.His cheeks flushed darker."Like, super fucking late."

I couldn't help but laugh softly.Three days in the wilderness, guiding teenagers through rapids and over mountain passes, and this was my welcome home—Casey Kim, naked and toy-filled in my bed, annoyed that I'd had the audacity to be late to my own house.

"Sorry," I whispered, not feeling sorry at all."The trail was muddy from yesterday's rain.Took longer than expected."I brushed a strand of hair from his forehead."But looks like you found a way to entertain yourself."

Casey's scowl deepened, but I didn't miss the way his pupils dilated or how his tongue darted out to wet his lips."Shut up," he muttered."I was bored."

"Bored enough to use the keys you said you wouldn't need?"I asked, unable to keep the amused affection from my voice.

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