Chapter Thirty

Finn

Now

“You okay, kid?” Hank hummed against his hair, his solid arms tightening around Finn’s shoulders, squeezing him impossibly tight.

No.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He nuzzled closer against Hank’s chest, burying his entire face in the generous coat of thick chest hair— his wild, wild woods —the coarse strands roughing up his cheeks and chin just the way he liked it. It hadn’t been a good day if his face wasn’t burning from rubbing against Hank’s chest hair and his thighs weren’t pulsing deliciously from Hank sucking his marks all over the sensitive skin. Sniffing him in, almost as if he could inhale a piece of Hank that would forever stay with him, he poked out his tongue and licked lazily around Hank’s protruding nipple.

“Jesus, kid,” Hank winced, goose bumps blossoming across his chest and pecs as he shivered beneath Finn.

“Can’t we just fuck instead of talking?” Finn hummed, rubbing his cock against Hank’s thick thigh, the hair teasing his cock head deliciously. Of course, they needed to talk because, after three days, the roads had cleared sufficiently for a FIAT 500 to venture out of Hayley’s. Tomorrow was D-day.

“Now, there’s a catchy slogan if I ever heard one,” Hank chuckled, his chest rippling beneath Finn’s lips causing them to buzz.

“Can we? Please?” Fuck, Hank had already declined him twice, Finn growing more and more impatient, needy, and desperate by the second.

“It’s not what you need, kid,” Hank spoke matter-of-factly, like a doctor denying a patient the drug he’d grown addicted to. He was, wasn’t he? Fucking addictive, this solid man beneath him who never spoke much, but when he did, there was a strange profoundness to it. Of course, he knew it was a bad idea to fuck. It would only make him miss Hank more in the end. “It won’t make the nervousness go away.” No, but it might make me black out and go into an orgasm-induced coma.

“Ugh, why are you being such a sensible grown-up all of a sudden?” If it wasn’t because he was lying down, Finn was convinced that he would’ve stomped his feet like a petulant three-year-old. Not that he’d ever been a petulant three-year-old, but he remembered when Cara was one, and she would throw a hissy fit of apocalyptic proportions in the candy section if she didn’t get a cherry lollipop right.this.fucking.minute.thank.you.very.much.Mom. Instead, he settled on biting into Hank’s fleshy right pec muscle.

“What the hell!” Hank groaned, his hand grabbing the long hair at the back of Finn’s neck, pulling him roughly away like one would pull a bloodsucking beast from you.

“You know you want to,” Finn hissed, Hank’s hold on him only pushing at his libido, his balls growing heavy against his thighs. “You know you wanna bury that fat cock of yours inside my little boy hole, dontcha Daddyyy?”

“Enough with the games,” Hank hissed. There was a strange contradiction in Hank’s entire posture, his fat cock hard and warm against Finn’s hip, a warning edge to his deep voice. “It’s the last thing you need, kid, so knock it off.” Hank held him tighter, stilling his jittery movements that he hadn’t realized he was making. “It won’t make the anxiousness go away. It’s okay to be… to be scared, Finn.” The gentleness was back in Hank’s voice, Finn’s name spoken with such fondness and carefulness that he could almost pretend for one second that Hank might love him back. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Are you scared?”

“Yeah, a little. But not because I’m afraid that they won’t want me back, you know. Or that they won’t forgive me.” He raised his head, tipping it back, looking up at where he knew Hank’s face must be in the darkness. “I mean, it’s gonna break my heart if they won’t, but I can still be okay with that. I know I’ll be okay.” Now , he wanted to add. Now that I know you are out there and that you care about me.

“Why are you scared, then?” Hank asked, the soft calm of his voice sweeping over Finn, reminding him what he was truly afraid of.

“I’m… I’m afraid that I’ll never find this again, Hank. This… quiet. This peace where all the thoughts inside my head are finally still, and there’s just nothing. Except for this… I don’t know. This feeling of just being that I’ve found here in Hayley’s.” With you, he wanted to add. Only with you, Hank.

“You will,” Hank murmured, his warm breath coasting along Finn’s chin like a tender caress. “Being at peace with yourself and who you are ain’t somethin’ you can find outside of yourself. It’s somethin’ you find within, I think.”

“You think so?” His voice sounded feeble, frail, to his own ears. “But what if I can’t? What if I don’t work that way?” All his life, it had felt like his happiness and his peace of mind had been depending on other people. First, on whether Aunt Molly had a good day, later he measured his happiness up against his parents’ praise and his sister’s smiles. He knew, of course, that the expectations were all in his mind, but they were impossible to shake, nonetheless. It was only with Hank that he didn’t have to live up to anything. Hank, a constant calming factor in his life who never asked him for anything he couldn’t give but gave so much back in return.

A low sigh grew in Hank’s chest as he reached for Finn, placing both of his heavy hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, you work just fine, kid.” Finn could tell that there was a smile in Hank’s words. A fondness. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.” There was a finality to Hank’s words. A don’t-argue-with-me-kid. A that’s-the-way-it-is-and-that’s-that.

“There’s not?” Fuck, he knew he was being needy, but since this was the last chance he got to be with Hank, he was going to lap up all the nice words, all the kids and good boys . Like charging your batteries before a long journey. Or drinking gallons of water before a strenuous trek in the desert. Only, it would never be enough, would it? He would never overdose on Hank and his unwavering presence.

“Of course not, kid.” Hank pulled him back against his chest, placing his heavy palm on top of Finn’s head, his thick fingers digging into his scalp. A deep exhale left Hank’s chest, Finn melting against the valley between his pecs. “You’re such a good boy, Finn. I wish you could see that. You’re sweet and kind. Funny. Jesus, you’re funny as hell,” Hank laughed. “Always put a smile on my face.” He could feel Hank’s lips curl. He didn’t have to see his face to know that he was, in fact, smiling, the prominent crow’s feet around his hazel eyes crinkling across his skin.

“Yeah?” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his eyes stinging at the generosity of Hank’s words.

“Yeah. You’re beautiful, too. Heck, I think you’re just about the prettiest boy I ever saw.” Fuck, he loved when Hank called him boy . It made him feel treasured. Wanted. How the fuck was he gonna survive without his daily dose of Hank?

“Not as beautiful as Eugene, Hank.”

“Beautiful in different ways,” Hank said, that wistfulness back in his deep voice that only ever came out when they spoke of Eugene. “Still beautiful, kid.” Fuck, he was even going to miss the kid . It was his, that fucking word. His and his alone.

“You’re beautiful, too, Hank,” he mumbled drowsily against Hank’s skin, tiredness starting to catch up with him, his mind fighting to stay awake. If he could just suspend time. Just for tonight. “So fucking hot,” he slurred. Hank’s chest vibrated beneath him as his chuckle filled the darkness. “Now, please Hank, can we just fuck? For old times’ sake?”

“Absolutely not,” Hank laughed. “Now, go to sleep, Finn. Go to sleep. I’m here.” And weren’t that just the saddest words ever spoken? Because as of tomorrow, he would never again hear those words from Hank’s lips. “I’m here.” I’m here.