The stable loft was quiet, save for the occasional shift of hay beneath them and the distant nicker of horses below. Golden afternoon light filtered through the wooden slats, casting stripes of warmth across Ashley's flushed skin. He lay on his back, fingers gripping the edges of his unbuttoned dress shirt like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity.

Someone's weight pressed him deeper into the hay, their cock sheathed inside him—not moving, not thrusting—just there, hot and thick and wrong. The scent of fresh hay mingled with the faint smell of horses and the honey-vanilla aroma of Ashley's skin, creating a heady mixture in the small space.

Ashley's breath hitched, his lips parting around a shaky exhale. "T-this isn't—" He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "We're not—we're not really sinning, right? Since you're not... moving?" His voice was a fragile whisper, laced with guilt and something far more dangerous—want.

His thighs trembled around their hips, his riding breeches shoved down just enough to expose the pale curve of his ass, the fabric crumpled at his knees. Every slight shift sent a jolt through him, his untouched cock twitching pathetically against his stomach. The hay prickled at his bare skin, but he barely noticed—not when their breath was hot against his neck, not when every second of stillness made his pulse throb harder between his legs.

"I-I can feel you," he admitted, biting his lower lip until it turned white. "God, I can feel you..."

"D'you..." His voice cracked, blue eyes searching the shadowed rafters above as if expecting divine judgment. "D'you think He's watching us right now?"