Blake Hart
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Snowed In, Stripped Down - Part 1
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 16:53:32 +0000 UTCHey everyone! I just realized that my Patreon has reached 500 followers, and the subreddit I created, r/TheGayErotica, now has 2,000 members! Both of these milestones felt worth celebrating, so I got inspired to write a bonus story—and, of course, you all here on Patreon get the first look!
I originally planned for it to be a winter-themed one-shot, but, as always, I got carried away. Now, it’s definitely turning into at least a two-parter.
I hope you enjoy it! This is my little way of saying thank you for your support. It truly means the world to me and is the reason I get to write as much as I do. Thank you again! ❤️
--- --- ---
Everyone in this story is 18+
I hated snow, and I hated skiing. Sure, I was athletic, but I was far more comfortable with a nice indoor workout followed by a warm sauna. Cass, my best friend and greatest rival, on the other hand, lived for this shit. He reveled in the snow, carving through it effortlessly like he was born with skis strapped to his feet.
And, of course, I couldn’t be any worse than him—even though I was objectively horrible.
But this time, Cocky Cass (as I liked to call him) finally got what was coming to him. Unfortunately, so did I.
--- --- ---
Cass grinned down at me, his brown eyes gleaming with amusement. His dark brown hair was messy from the wind, strands poking out from under his beanie like he hadn’t bothered to fix it all day.
"Come on, Benson. Let me give you a hand," Cass said, half-mocking, as he reached out to me. He towered at 6'3", grinning down while I lay in a pathetic heap in the snow after falling on my ass for what had to be the hundredth time that day.
"I can get up myself," I shot back defiantly, clumsily staggering to my feet in the least graceful way possible—only to drop right back down to my knees.
"Damn. Didn’t know you liked being on your knees so much," he teased as he yanked me back up, his grip strong. I rolled my eyes, but for some reason, my face felt warmer than before. Probably just from the fall. Now standing, I was barely an inch shorter than him—a fact he loved to point out.
"I think I’m really getting the hang of this," I added, brushing snow off my jacket like I hadn’t just wiped out spectacularly. "Just needed to get back in the groove. It’s been a long time since last time, y’know?"
Even I didn’t believe myself.
Cass snorted. "Haha! Yeah, totally. You’ll be ready for the Olympics any day now, Bensie."
I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you, Cass! And don’t call me Bensie. It sounds so childish."
"Oh, sorry, Bensie," he said, his smirk widening. "But you do ski like a child, so it fits." He gave me a playful nudge before taking off down the slope, carving through the snow with ease.
"Cass, wait up!" I shouted after him, but all I got in response was his laughter echoing through the cold air. Gritting my teeth, I rallied myself to keep up.
--- --- ---
The day dragged on—not in a blur, but in a cold, miserable slog. My body was battered from all the falls, and my mood was just as bruised. Meanwhile, Cass was having the time of his life.
"Can we please go back to the cabin now?" I pleaded, barely masking my exhaustion.
"What, getting tired already?" he asked, like it was some kind of test.
"No, I just... It’s getting dark and cold, I just wanna head back, maybe get a hot shower before we hit the bars." I shot him a look. "Besides, you were the one who said there’d be hot girls in tights, hungry for dick after a long winter."
Cass grinned. "Well, yeah. There’s only one bar in town, but it’s huge and packed with sexy girls. The parties there go crazy this time of year."
He adjusted his goggles, then suddenly said, "Alright, fine. Let’s head back—I know a shortcut."
And with that, he took off infuriatingly fast.
I groaned but forced myself to push through. Nothing sounded better than his dad’s warm, cozy cabin, a cold beer, and a long, hot shower. So, with whatever strength I had left, I took off after this fucking ski machine.
--- --- ---
One hour later…
"I could’ve sworn it was this way. But now… everything suddenly looks off," Cass muttered, scratching his head. He looked noticeably less cocky than usual, which was telling—there was even a hint of worry in his eyes.
"What the fuck? Are we lost or something?" I asked, feeling my own panic creeping in.
"No, I just... I just don’t know exactly where we are." He grinned, but it was far from convincing.
"That’s literally the definition of being lost, Cass!" I snapped. "It’s getting dark, it’s freezing, and it’s snowing cats and dogs. Now pull out your damn phone and check where we are—or, I don’t know, call someone!"
"Yeah, okay. Jesus. Calm down, man. Dramatic much?" Cass said with more sass than I had patience for right now.
Then, after a second of fumbling with his pocket, his expression changed. "...Wait. It won’t turn on. Give me your phone."
I stared at him. "Are you serious?" I pulled mine out, pressing the power button repeatedly. Nothing. "Dead. Either from the gallons of snow that got shoved into my pockets after wiping out a thousand times, or from all the impacts. But if you hadn’t taken a gazillion selfies today, we’d still have your damn phone!"
"I—It’s—The batteries barely last in this cold! It’s not my fault!" he countered defensively.
I wanted to explode, but what was the point? "Okay, listen. We have to figure something out, or we’re gonna freeze to death. You’re the one familiar with these slopes—any suggestions?"
Cass hesitated before answering. "Yeah… sorry. Let’s think. I think it’s best to go back the way we came. I know the way from there."
"It took us an hour to get here! That’s an hour back, then another half-hour to the cabin. Are you joking?" I barked.
Cass exhaled sharply, looking around before pointing vaguely at a barely visible tree, snow pouring down all around us. "Okay, fine, let’s just keep going. I recognize that tree over there. We’re close, I swear."
It was a lie. Or at the very least, wishful thinking.
Before I could argue, he took off again, clearly done with the conversation.
I clenched my jaw, muttered a few curses under my breath, and followed him—despite every instinct telling me to punch him first.
--- --- ---
"Hey, look!" Cass shouted from ahead.
"What now?" I groaned, barely lifting my head.
"It’s a cabin," he said.
"Thank God!" I exhaled, pushing forward until I was next to him. Sure enough, there it was—a small, wooden cabin, barely visible through the thickening snowfall.
"It looks empty, though," I added, squinting at it.
"Yeah," Cass admitted. "But if I’m being honest… I have no clue where we are. I’m freezing, and the snow’s just getting worse. We need to find shelter and wait this out." He hesitated, then finally said, "I didn’t wanna spook you earlier, but this was starting to look… bleak."
For once, he actually sounded sincere.
He skied toward the cabin, and I followed. Up close, the place looked old—weathered and almost spooky, the kind of place I’d never willingly enter under normal circumstances. But between that and freezing my balls off? Yeah, easy choice.
Cass bent down and checked under the mat. His face lit up.
"Look! A key," he said with a grin.
"Thank God," I sighed as he turned the key and pushed the door open.
Inside, the cabin was shockingly cozy—way more inviting than it looked from the outside.
He sauntered into the cabin like he owned the place—typical Cass.
"Well, obviously no electricity here. It’s a real old-school setup," he said, glancing around before adding, "I’ll get a fire going. You check the cabinets—see if there’s anything to eat or maybe something we can use to contact someone."
"Okay," I muttered as he headed for the fireplace.
I rummaged through the cabinets, not expecting much, and sure enough, I didn’t find much either—just some stale crackers and a half bottle of Jägermeister.
Then, from the other side of the cabin, I heard:
"Fuck!"
I turned toward him. "What? What happened?"
Cass was staring at the fireplace, looking way more frantic than usual. "There’s only a few logs here. Really dry ones. It’s not gonna be enough to get this place warm."
"Shit!" I swore. "What, are we just gonna freeze to death?"
Cass rolled his eyes. "No, we’re not gonna freeze to death. I’ll put in one log at a time to stretch it out. And we can pull the bed—if there is one—closer to the fireplace. Looks like there are some blankets on the couch too."
He shot me a look, like he knew what I was going to say next.
"If we just huddle together, we’ll make it."
I wanted to argue, to make a huge scene—but I decided against it.
"Okay, let’s just work together, and maybe we’ll get through this hell," I muttered.
--- --- ---
Cass and I had found a small single bed and dragged it in front of the fireplace, where he’d tossed in a log. It crackled nicely, sending a faint glow through the dim cabin. We had also found a couple of old metal lanterns and stacked a bunch of blankets and animal skins on the bed. It actually looked cozier than before—not exactly the luxury of Cass’s dad’s cabin, but it had an old-school charm to it.
The lantern flickered, casting soft shadows across Cass’s face. His brown eyes looked darker in the low light, the usual cocky edge in them softened by exhaustion. His damp hair clung to his forehead, making him look almost… different. I shook the thought away.
"Fuck, I’m freezing," I muttered, rubbing my arms together, trying to force some heat into my body. But my soaking wet clothes were blocking any warmth from the fire.
"You have to strip," Cass said, grinning.
"Shut up. I’m not stripping," I shot back.
"You have to," he insisted, stepping closer.
Before I could argue, he reached out and pressed his palm against my sleeve. His expression shifted.
"Dude, you’re soaked—even under your jacket. And you’re turning blue. You have to take off the wet clothes," he said before casually peeling off his own jacket. "My clothes are damp too. Probably from sweat and this fucking snowstorm."
Cass peeled off his sweater and tee in one motion, revealing smooth, tanned skin stretched over firm muscle. His shoulders were broad, arms toned from years of sports, every inch of him built like someone who thrived on competition. His chest was bare except for a faint trail of hair leading down below his waistband.
I had seen him like this a hundred times before. Hell, we’d even been completely naked around each other. We were as close as brothers, always had been.
I turned away and started stripping, knowing he was right—it was either frostbite or this. I mimicked his movements, peeling off my own sweater and tee, revealing my own defined abs. Both of us were gym rats, ripped and used to undressing in locker rooms, before practice, after practice…
But this? This felt different.
I stripped off my pants, leaving only my boxers. They were damp too, clinging slightly, though the cold made sure my bulge wasn’t anything impressive. When I turned back to Cass, he was already standing there in his own boxers, grinning like an idiot.
"See? Not so bad," he said, arms spread wide, regaining his usual cocky attitude. "We see each other like this all the time, man. No need to make a fuss."
I narrowed my eyes then half joked. "I will murder you."
But I had to admit—I was glad he was here.
We placed our wet clothes near the moderately warm fireplace to dry, then climbed under the blankets. The warmth still wasn’t enough, but the layers helped. We passed the bottle of Jäger back and forth, taking swigs, joking, and bantering like we always did.
At some point, Cass leaned back, grinning. "Look, this isn’t so bad. You got your cabin, you got alcohol, and instead of smoking hot women in sexy après-ski outfits, you got something much better."
I exhaled, already knowing where this was going. "...What?"
He threw his arms out like he was presenting himself on a game show.
"Me!"
"Moron," I laughed, nudging him. He nudged me back.
Some time passed, and we were both beat, our energy wearing off as we started drifting off to sleep. My body was still cold, shaking slightly, my teeth clattering together.
Then, without a word, Cass shifted and put his arm around me.
He didn’t say anything.
But I could feel his body heat as our skin made contact. His strong, muscled arm around me made me feel lightheaded—safe, somehow. The warmth settled over me, and slowly, the shaking stopped.
And then I felt it.
Something growing behind me.
His bulge, tucked neatly against my ass, made a notable jolt against the thin fabrics of our boxers.
He stiffened, hesitated, then quickly adjusted, shifting so his groin was no longer pressed against me.
A thousand thoughts ran through my head, and I don’t know what came over me, the alcohol or maybe something else, but I pushed my ass back—just slightly, just enough to feel it again.
A sharp inhale behind me.
“…Bensy?”
