Chapter 5

Five

HUNTER

The next day I run some errands and pick up any last minute things we might need for our road trip. I bring everything inside and grab some lunch, before I make my way back up to my room.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket as I sit on my bed. It’s a group text with Matt and Sam.

Matt: Yo, dude, how’s it going? What do you think of your mom’s man??

God, that’s a loaded question. He’s a lying, cheating, son of a bitch, and the guy I’ve been hung up on for months, and I can’t be around him without being furious and wanting him at the same time, and I have no idea if I should say something to Mom, because how can I tell her I slept with her boyfriend, even if I didn’t know who he was, and break her heart, outing Oliver in the process? But how can I not, and let her marry someone who cheated on her? He put me in the worst, most fucked up situation of my life and I don’t know what to do.

Me: Haven’t decided yet.

Sam: lol, don’t be too hard on him for banging your mom

Nausea fills my stomach and a surge of jealousy roils through me. I know that’s messed up, but he was mine, goddamn it. Only for a night, but it was enough to make an imprint on me so deep I don’t know how to think of him with Mom and not feel sick or fucking furious.

Me: Ewww, barfing emoji

Matt: lol, enjoy your road trip

Me: thanks

I toss my phone aside, the sandwich I’d made only ten minutes ago looking far less appetizing now. I shove it away and pick up my controller before drowning my feelings in a game of Call of Duty .

I’ve managed to avoid Oliver for the most part, over the past couple of days. We’ve run into each other occasionally, but I’ve spent most of my time in my room or out of the house. The worst time of day is in the evening, when Mom is home and we’re expected to eat dinner together around the table like a fucking family.

The icing on the cake is when she tells us she might not be able to make it on the trip after all because of work. I can tell she feels awful about it, and she’s exhausted. Apparently things are really hectic and intense right now with the case she’s working on, and while she has someone who can cover for her that she trusts, she’s worried it will be too much for them.

I can’t be upset with Mom, though. She’s always been amazing at what she does, and one of the things I respect about her is her dedication to her clients and helping them get the justice they deserve. She’s clearly stressed, and warring with herself about whether or not she should be making the trip. But if she decides she can’t come I’ll just head back to my apartment because I am not going on the road for two weeks with just Oliver, or spending more time here alone with him, or I’m fairly certain I’ll end up on the six o’clock news.

It’s the second night in a row we’ve done the family meal thing now, and I always eat as quickly as possible so I can excuse myself. I hate doing it, because I don’t want to be rude to Mom, but I can’t stomach sitting across from Oliver and pretending like everything is okay. I tell her about my job when she asks, and about the classes I’ll be taking next semester for my psychology major. I fill her in on my roommates. When she asks if I’m seeing anyone I have to do my best not to glance at Oliver. “No,” I say. “Not right now. There was someone I thought might turn into something but turns out he’s a real prick and was just using me. He was in a relationship the whole time.”

I see Oliver flinch and his face flush out of the corner of my eye, and I can’t help but feel a bit proud of myself for that one. He fuckling deserves it after what he did.

“Oh, my,” Mom replies, clearly stunned. “Well, I’m glad you found out before it turned uglier.”

I don’t say anything, just finish my meal and head back to my room, telling her that I’m going to look through my things and decide what to pack for the trip we’ll be leaving on the day after tomorrow, though I’m seriously considering telling her I can’t make it, and making something up, like I need to get back to my apartment, or I’m not feeling well so I shouldn't be traveling. I wish I could use work as an excuse, but she already knows the bar is under construction so that won’t work.

This fucked up situation and the lack of sleep I’ve been getting has me utterly exhausted and out of sorts. I’m so wiped out that I head to bed before ten o’clock. I’m out before my head hits the pillow.

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Fucking hell, this is the second time he’s made me freak the fuck out while I’m minding my own goddamn business getting coffee.

“Well, let’s see, the wedding is in two months, so, I’m thinking probably a good thirty or forty years, give or take,” I say, stirring my cream into my coffee.

“Hunter, please.” His voice is earnest. “You have to know I never meant to hurt you, or your mother.”

I glare at him now. “Yes, you made it very clear that it was a “mistake” I say, putting the word in finger quotes. “Does she know?” He blinks at me. “Does she know, Oliver? Did you fucking tell my mom that you cheated on her? I’m not stupid, you know. I did the goddamn math. How long after you left before you proposed?”

His cheeks darken and he swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It couldn’t have been more than a week, Oliver! Was it the same fucking day? You rushed out of my apartment and you were so guilt ridden, you had to do whatever the fuck you could to make yourself feel better about it so you gave her a goddamn ring? Does she at least know you’re not straight? Did you tell her that much?”

“I am?—”

“If you end that sentence with anything other than “a fucking bastard” I will punch you in the nose,” I grit out. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to me after what we did. You can fucking lie to yourself all you want, Oliver. You can lie to my mom if that’s what you want, but don’t you dare lie to me. I don’t know why you are doing this. Why you are so determined to make everyone around you believe that you are something you aren't. But guess what? Putting a ring on Mom’s finger doesn't change a goddamn thing, you asshole!” My cheeks are flaming and I’m definitely shouting, but the most horrifying thing about this whole exchange are the tears sliding down my cheeks. “You never told me you were in a relationship. I didn’t even get the chance to make that choice, and now I have to pay for the consequences. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me the past few days, being around her and pretending like everything between us is normal? Pretending I didn’t—” My breath catches and I can’t finish the words.

“Hunter,” he says, stepping towards me again, but I back away as a whimper escapes me.

“I don’t know what to do,” I sob. “And the worst part is, I fucking cried over you, Oliver. Do you know that? The morning you left, without a word, after you told me you would stay, I fucking cried. And then I show up here and you fucking tell me it was a mistake. After I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, about us, jerking off to thoughts of us together night after night because that’s all I have left. Thinking I would never see you again. And now here you are, and I can’t…” My chest heaves. “I can’t have you. Because you’re marrying my mom.”

He’s close enough to me now that I can smell his gingerbread and vanilla scent, and before I know it, he’s taking me in his arms and holding me close to him as I sob, my arms wrapped around him, releasing so much hurt, and anger and grief that I’d bottled up not just since I got home and found out who he was, but since he left that morning three months ago.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Hunter. I know I was wrong to leave. I didn’t know what to do. I’m a complete bastard. I know that. I was scared. So very very scared at how utterly bewitched I was by you. I’ve made some very poor choices in my life, but you, Hunter Price, were not one of them. Even though it makes me the scum of the earth, I don’t regret what we did, even for a second. I said it was a mistake because I had to convince myself it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, to assuage my own guilt. I never intended to cheat on your mother. I’ve been telling myself I’m not gay for over twenty years, Hunter, because I can’t be gay. Not in my family. Not with my parents. They would never accept it. Being anything other than straight is an unpardonable sin in their eyes and I’ve spent my entire life hearing about how vile it is, how unnatural. Marrying your mother seemed like the next best thing. Though truth be told it can’t compare to how it felt being with you. I’ve done my best to live the only life I can, knowing I can never be who I really am. I had never been with another man before that night, though God knows I’d wanted it. Something about you made me so utterly reckless. I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. Though, heaven knows I’ve tried.”

I lift my head and stare at him. He brings his thumbs to my cheeks and wipes my tears.

“You want me?” It’s subtle, but he nods.

“More than I care to admit.” His finger reaches for the loose lock of hair that’s fallen out of my messy bun and he tucks it behind my ear.

“What do we do?” I ask, feeling so torn inside I could scream.

“What do you want to do, sweet boy?” he asks me.

My heart thrashes against my rib cage. Then I’m gripping his cheeks and kissing him, hard. He moans, the sound vibrating throughout my entire body and making me shiver. Oh, God, yes. This is what I remember. This is what it felt like to have our lips locked and our tongues tangling. This is what I have been craving since the morning he walked away. I need this man. I need his kisses, his touch, his taste. I need his firm, hard body underneath me. I need my lips wrapped around his cock. I need his obedience, his surrender. I need to hear those sinful sounds pouring from his lips again and again.

“Hunter,” he gasps, pulling away. His eyes flit to my lips and then back to my eyes. Then he’s crashing his lips to mine again and pressing me up against the counter. He stands between my splayed thighs and we make out like we’re fucking starving for each other, because we are. When I grip his auburn locks in my hand and tug, he whimpers and my cock jerks, aching for him.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” I pant, between kisses.

“God, yes, please,” is his reply. It sounds so desperate I nearly cry. I’m fully aware that there is no going back from this. That when we slept together the last time I was none the wiser and so can’t be blamed for what happened. This time, though, I’m a willing participant. But the fact that this could absolutely destroy my relationship with my mother, who is the only fucking family I have, doesn’t make me want to stop. I can’t stop. I need him. He’s mine. He’s been mine since that first night. And I’ve been his.

“Strip and bend over the table,” I tell him. My cock jerks when he begins to do exactly as I say, untucking his shirt, then unbuttoning it, before he moves to his belt. I slide my T-shirt and sweats off, then my underwear. When I look up again he’s bent over the table just like I instructed, that gorgeous ass in the air, cock hard between his legs and leaking onto the floor.

In the light of day I can see the freckles scattered across his legs and ass, and I moan as I kneel behind him and spread his cheeks. “Fuck, I’ve missed this ass, Oli,” I say, and he turns to look at me, his eyes wide.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Love it when you say my name while I’m bent over for you,” he says, the huskiness in voice sending a shiver down my spine.

“Mmmm,” I hum, then lick and nibble at his ass cheeks, making him jerk. “Oli,” I say, planting kiss after kiss and nuzzling his delectable ass with my nose, repeating his name each time until he’s shaking. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, as I reach my hand between his legs to fondle his balls. “Fuck, Hunter.”

I hum again, then begin to suck on the freckles dotting his cheeks, making him spasm even more. I snarl when he says, “Fuck, don’t leave marks, she’ll see.”

“You want me to fuck you and not mark you?” I say. I know he’s right. This is reckless enough without leaving evidence on his body of what we’re doing. But it fucking infuriates me that he’s mine and I can’t claim him the way I want to. I want him covered in my marks. His ass, his stomach, his neck. Every fucking place on his body belongs to me. Not her.

He looks back at me again. “Please?”

“On one condition. You tell me who’s ass this is. Tell me it’s mine and I won’t mark it.” His eyes widen again and I slap his ass cheek, making his cheeks flame and his eyes widen even further. “Tell me, Oli.”

“I,” he swallows. I slap his other ass cheek and he hisses. “Christ.”

“Who’s ass is this?” I ask more harshly. “Is it hers? Is it my mom’s? Does your ass belong to her?”

He shakes his head. “Then whose is it, Oli?” I demand.

“Christ,” he whimpers. “It’s yours.”

I press a kiss to it. “It’s not hers?” Another kiss. He shakes his head vehemently. “You sure?” Another kiss, and a nod.

“Yes, now bloody fuck me, for Christ’s sake,” he almost snarls. I can’t help chuckling as I spread his cheeks and begin to lap and suck at his beautiful pucker.

“God, Oli, you taste so good,” I moan. “So fucking perfect, baby. Such a pretty hole. It hasn’t been filled since I saw you last has it? Not even with a toy?” I reach around and grip his cock, both of us moaning at the contact.

He shakes his head. “N…no,” he manages.

“Good boy,” I purr, and his cock spasms in my hand. Holy fuck, he loved that. He loved being called my good boy.

“Damn, Oli,” I purr, and he shoves his ass back, begging.

“More. Please.”

I hum and stroke my finger up and down his ass cheek. “Your hole must be aching to be filled,” I say.

“Christ, you little demon, get the fuck inside me.”

I slap his ass again and he gasps, then moans like a whore when I slide my tongue over his pucker again. “Oh, God. Yes, Hunter, fuck, yes, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. So good. So bloody good.”

I slide my tongue over his taint and across his entrance again and again, his taste exploding on my tongue, until he’s shaking and I hear the hitch in his breath when he says, “Please,” again. My cock is throbbing, desperate to be inside him. It’s been too long. Way too long.

I moan and slip my tongue inside him, and he spasms around me. It’s fucking glorious. I work him with my tongue as he presses back against me, fucking himself on my face.

I slide out of him and he whimpers as I ask, “You gonna keep denying this pretty hole what it needs?”

He shakes his head. “You gonna let me fill you up over and over again, Oli?”

A nod.

“You gonna let me take what I want when I fucking want, beautiful?” He nods again. I stand and look around for a substitute for lube since I don’t have any on me.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking over his shoulder as I move towards the cupboard above the stove. I grab the olive oil and return to him.

“Lube, beautiful.” He nods and I cover my fingers in it before slicking up my cock. “You ready, gorgeous?” I ask.

“Christ, yes.”

I align myself with his entrance, then plant kisses to his shoulder blades and along his neck as I grip his hips and press inside him. He hisses and I stroke his back. “You’re okay,” I promise. “You’ve got this, Oli. Just like the first time when you took me so well, remember?”

He takes a breath and lets it out, nodding his head, and I push past his tight ring, sliding inside him, his heat surrounding me, and we both groan. “God, that’s good.” I press more kisses to his sweaty back. “You okay?”

“Yes,” he replies, his breathing heavy. “More.”

“I’m coming, baby,” I promise. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” He fucking squirms, and whimpers, and it’s so damn hot my cock jerks inside him.

“Shit!” he cries. “Please, Hunter. I need you. All of you.”

“Fuck, baby,” I say on a groan. “You make me crazy, you know that? Fucking love this perfect ass. So fucking hot watching it swallow my cock, Oli.”

“Fuck,” he moans as I bottom out. He’s trembling, and I take a deep breath this time before I slide out a little bit and push back in, then slide out even more, before pushing back in again.

“Shit!” he cries out when I peg his prostate. “Shit, that’s good. Harder.” I repeat the motion, hearing his moans and the sound of our breaths, skin slapping against skin as I pound into him again and again. The salt and pepper shakers on the table tumble over, their contents spilling out, and the table scooches slightly across the floor.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so damn good,” I growl. “Touch yourself, beautiful. I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard.”

He grips his cock and I snap my hips again and again, making him cry out. Pleasure zings down my spine and my body shakes. My balls are aching. “I’m so fucking close,” I tell him, then slide my arm around his middle and haul him up so that his back is against my chest and he’s impaled on my cock. Then I grip his cock over his hand as I shove up into him and stroke him at the same time.

“Oh, Christ,” he wails. “I’m going to come.”

“Yes,” I tell him. “Come for me, Oli. Be good and come hard for me.” He howls as his release spills all over our hands and onto the table, and I’m crying out seconds later as his ass clenches around me, my cock spasming as I unload my spunk inside him. Fuck, that was intense, and so damn good.

I bring my hand to his mouth. “Clean it off.”

His tongue darts out and he licks up his own release greedily, sucking my fingers into his mouth and moaning around them, making my cock jerk inside him yet again.

“So good for me,” I tell him, and watch as his cheeks flush. I press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Shit,” I say, wincing as I pull out of him. I bite my lip. My release is sliding down his perfect thighs, which is hot as hell, but it makes me realize my mistake.

“What?” he says, his breaths still heavy.

“I forgot a condom. Fuck, Oli, I’m sorry. I got so caught up in the moment, and I didn’t think. That was stupid.”

“Even stupider to let it go to waste,” he says, surprising me. I return to my knees and lap the cum from his ass and thighs and he moans again.

“Come here,” I say, standing, and he turns. I press my mouth to his and let my taste fill his mouth as I kiss him. He grips my cheeks and moans as his tongue slides over mine.

“Christ, what am I going to do with you?” he says, reaching up and brushing that stray strand of hair behind my ear again. “You almost make me believe that what I want is within reach.”

“And what’s that?” I say, as his hand cups my cheek.

He gives me a sad smile. “Happiness.”

I frown. “You don’t have to marry her, Oli, if she doesn’t make you happy. You shouldn't marry her.”

“It’s all right,” he says. “I could do far worse than your mother.”

“Do you love her?” I ask, staring into his eyes.

He sighs. “I care for her, Hunter. Love will come with time.”

I shake my head, stepping away. “Are you kidding me? What a load of bull.”

“Hunter—”

“No, Oliver, that’s not how sexuality works. You can’t marry someone to fucking hide who you are and hope you’ll eventually love them. And what, to appease some homophobic assholes? Is that what you want? To go through the rest of your life in a loveless marriage? To always be catering to what your parents want instead of what you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter, Hunter!” he bellows, and I step back further, eyes wide. “I have no desire to hurt anyone. Least of all you or your mother. But it isn’t about what I desire. It’s about doing what’s best for my family.”

“Bullshit,” I say, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, as I point my finger at him. “It’s about protecting yourself. And hiding behind my mom, because you’re too damn scared to upset Mommy and Daddy. Fuck, I was so stupid.” I grab my underwear and sweats off the kitchen floor and slide them back on.

“Hunter—”

“I’m going to take a shower,” I say, and hurry out of the kitchen.

I have more tears sliding down my cheeks as I scrub and rinse, then dry off and head to my room to change. I tie my hair back in a messy bun again before I sit on my bed.

Fuck, I don’t know what I expect from him. He doesn't owe me anything. He’s not in love with me either. And I don’t know the kind of family obligations he has or the kind of pressure he’s under. My coming out was simple, easy. I told Mom, and my friends at school, and it was never a big deal. Sure being queer hasn’t been a cake walk but I’ve always known it was who I was and I was never ashamed of it. I never had a reason to be.

But Oliver doesn’t have that support. It sounds like his parents have done everything to discourage him from being himself. Told him time and time again that being gay is unacceptable, to the point where he is marrying a woman to hide who he is. Maybe even to convince himself he isn’t gay. Fuck, that’s messed up. And as furious as I am with him, I also can’t help feeling sorry for him. He’s buried who he is for twenty years because he’s so terrified of shaming and disgracing his family. It makes me want to punch his parents in their stuck up, homophobic noses and make them realize what an incredible son they have. He’s trying so hard to make everyone else happy, he’s given up on his own happiness. Well, maybe I can make him happy, for a little while at least.

When I hear the water turn on in the master bathroom I decide it’s time to pay him another visit. He made a promise to me and I intend to take him up on it.

When I enter the bathroom and my gaze lands on Oliver’s naked form behind the glass door of the shower, my cock springs back to life. I watch as the water pours over his lithe body, sliding over his freckled shoulders and down his toned back, over the swell of his perfectly round ass. I moan and strip off my clothes before I open the shower door and step inside.

OLIVER

I start when I hear the shower door opening, but don’t have a chance to turn around before a wet, naked body is pressed up against my backside and a familiar voice rumbles in my ear, “Did you mean it, Oliver, when you told me I could fill you whenever I wanted?”

I shiver at his words, and his touch. I nod. “Yes,” I reply in almost a whisper.

He reaches around me and takes my semi hard cock in his hand, then begins to stroke it as I close my eyes and moan at the sensation. “Let me make you happy, Oli,” he says. “For one month.” He nibbles on my ear, sending a shiver down my spine and making my cock ooze precum as it hardens in his grip. Then his lips move to my shoulders, and my upper back. “I have one month here, with you before I go back to school, and work. Let me spend it making you happy.”

I nod. “God, yes. Use me. Fill me, Hunter. I’m yours.” He plants kisses on my shoulder blade as he continues to stroke me. My hands come up to rest on the shower wall as I moan, and pant, feeling his rock hard cock against my arse. “I want to give you all of your firsts, Oli,” he murmurs before I feel a slick finger sliding inside my hole. He doesn’t stretch me. No, I don’t need that since we fucked only half an hour ago. Instead he slides in and pegs my prostate, making me jerk up to my tiptoes. “Fuck!” I cry out. He doesn’t let up, just nudges that deliciously sensitive spot over and over and I’m so close to orgasm again I don’t know if I can hold back. But then his finger slips free and I find myself whimpering at the loss and the intense desire to come.

“Turn around,” he orders, and I do. He immediately grips my wrists and pins them above my head, and Christ my cock jerks like crazy. Why the hell do I love that so damn much? More precum slides down my shaft as he steps closer and grips both of our cocks, his eyes lust filled and his cheeks flushed. “Mmmm,” he hums, as he presses kisses to my jaw and neck while he strokes us in tandem. “I’ve missed this big, beautiful cock, Oli.” Christ, the things he says. I may come just from listening to that filthy mouth.

He presses kiss after kiss to my wet skin and strokes us so torturously slow it’ll be hours before I come, but I will never lose my erection. The friction of his cock against mine is magnificent. “Please,” I whimper, thrusting into his grip. He chuckles, then presses a kiss to my lips.

“So pretty when you beg, Oli.”

“Christ, I’ll beg you to make me come over and over again if you want it,” I tell him. “Just to have any part of you on me, or inside me. Just tell me to beg and I will.” His eyes flare and he strokes us faster, making me let out a guttural moan. “Fuck, that’s good.” I want to reach down and grip his hair, or his shoulders, anything, but he’s holding me in place tightly, and the fact that I can’t get free is turning me on even more as my cock leaks precum like crazy, sliding down my shaft and over his hand. The fact that he has his hand around my rock hard cock while he pins me in place is so unbelievably hot.

“Christ, I'm going to come.” His grip on my wrists tightens at the same time as the grip on my cock does and I explode into his hand, my cock pulsing my release. He lets go of me and uses my cum as lube as he continues to stroke himself while I watch. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I feel my dick twitching again, trying to spring back to life for the third time when his head snaps back and he cries out, as his cock spasms in his grip and he shoots all over his stomach and hand.

“Bloody hell,” I gasp, still catching my breath. He licks his own release from his hand, and I moan. Then he steps closer and kisses me again, letting the taste of him slide from his mouth to mine. I moan as his spunk lands on my tongue and I swallow it down. God, he’s delicious. I run my fingers through those beautiful locks, as our tongues tangle. Then we take the time to wash each other off before stepping out of the shower and slipping our clothes back on.

When he pulls me towards his room I don’t hesitate. We climb onto his bed and he snuggles up against me, resting his head on my chest.

“This okay?” he asks, and I nod as I comb my fingers through his hair, the dampness of it making my own shirt wet, but I don’t care. We lie in silence for a moment before he speaks.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time with a man that night? I would have made it good for you.”

I lift his chin so he’s looking up at me and press a kiss to his lips. “You did,” I tell him sincerely. “It was everything I dreamed it would be. You were perfect, Hunter.”

He kisses me this time and we don’t part for quite some time. The kissing isn’t hurried or rushed. It’s soft, slow, and tender, and so utterly perfect. Christ, what this boy does to me.

“Don’t you need to get back to work?” he asks, pulling away.

I shake my head. “I took the afternoon off to get ready for the trip.”

He grins and rests his head back on my chest. “Do you like being an accountant?” he asks.

“You know what I do?” I say, surprised. “I never told you.”

“Mom mentioned it, I think.”

I nod. “Truthfully, no, I hate it.”

“Why do you do it then?” he asks, tilting his head up to look at me.

“Because my father was paying for my education and my housing, and insisted I go into a worthwhile vocation. It was either this, or being a doctor or a lawyer. Neither of those suited me. I am good with money, but I don’t enjoy it. I hate being stuck inside all day and sitting at a desk. It’s never been me. Though I can’t complain about the wages.”

“What would you do if you had a choice?”

I bite my lip and he smiles. “What? Tell me.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” I ask, and he bites his lip this time. “You’re already laughing,” I say, but I’m chuckling as I do, and poking his ribs. He shrieks and cackles and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. His laugh is vibrant and absolutely lovely, and it makes my chest ache with fondness.

“Come on,” he says, after I’ve stopped tickling him, his cheeks rosy and his eyes sparkling. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I’ve always loved the outdoors,” I say. “I love nature, and working with my hands, the idea of bringing something to life, letting it grow and flourish, do what it's meant to do. But I also really love the aesthetic side of things and seeing how things come together to compliment each other. I’d spend hours as a kid, just looking at gardening or landscaping magazines and books at the library. I still do sometimes. I’d love to get a job in landscaping, or possibly at a nursery, taking care of plants. I really love the idea of designing the landscaping, though.”

“Really?” he says. I nod.

“Mmmm,” he hums, running his finger down my chest. “I can see this beautiful body out in the sun and dirt, sweaty and sexy as fuck. Doing all that bending over.”

I laugh. “I think you’ve watched a little too much porn.”

He laughs, too, but then his voice is soft when he says, “I think that’s really beautiful, Oli. I like hearing you talk about something that clearly makes you happy. Your dad didn’t like that idea? The landscaping?”

“He was horrified when I told him. As if I had said I wanted to work on porta potties. Told me no son of his was going to be crawling around in the dirt for a living, that I needed to get my head on straight, and find a job that would actually allow me to take care of a family some day and not be a disgrace to the Jones’ name.”

“Shit, he sounds like a real charmer,” Hunter remarks, and I chuckle.

“He’s something, alright.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear and he presses his lips to mine again.

“Tell me about your family,” he says once he’s pulled away and his head is resting against my chest once more.

I sigh as I continue to stroke my fingers through his hair. “Both my parents come from money. My father is an anesthesiologist who grew up in London and went to the finest schools. His father was a doctor. A renowned brain surgeon actually, and his mother was a famous model. He met my mother in college, and she dropped out after two years to get married. A couple of years after that my twin sister and I came along.”

“You have a twin?” he asks, looking up at me yet again.

I nod. “Olivia. And a nephew, Freddie.”

“Are they homophobic, too?”

I pause, thinking about how Olivia stood up to Mother when we were there that night I met Hunter. How she defended the gay boy Mother was gossiping about. And the way she looked at me afterwards, and asked if I was okay. I think about the phone call we had after I proposed to Amanda, when she asked if this was what I really wanted. We never talked about it growing up. I just assumed she shared our parents' opinions. Why wouldn’t she? We’d both had it ingrained in us since childhood just how disgusting and perverse being gay was. How it was a stain on a family's name. An egregious sin.

I’ve wanted to say something to my parents for ages, but I never found the courage. Yet every time I didn’t I felt a piece of me being smothered. Felt myself pulling that closet door a little bit tighter each time. I’ve never felt like I could be honest with anyone in my family about the questions I had in regard to my sexuality, because I’d been sitting at that dinner table for thirty- six years hearing my parents’ comments and knowing that if I let it slip that I might be interested in men, if I ever acknowledge the fact that I might not be straight, I could lose everything. Facing their wrath, their disdain, their disappointment. Seeing the disgusted looks on their faces. I didn’t know how to do that. I wasn’t brave like Olivia was.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe not.”

“Maybe she would accept you. Maybe you wouldn’t have to lose everything.”

“Maybe,” I say, and kiss his hair. “I’m still not sure I’ve fully accepted it myself yet. I’ve spent so long denying any attraction to men because I didn’t want it to be true, I don’t really know how to be the me that I’ve kept hidden for so long. I don’t know how to be okay with that version of myself.” Tears fill my eyes and my chest heaves slightly. He pushes up and looks at me, and I blink as he wipes the tears from my cheeks.

“I’m sorry you don’t have the parents you deserve,” he says. “I’m sorry you felt like living a lie was safer than being yourself. You don’t have to pretend with me, Oli. You can be whoever you are. You’re safe with me.”

I bring his face to mine and kiss him deeply, because his words mean more than I can say. And I believe him. For the first time in my life I know someone sees me for who I really am, or at least who I want to be, and they accept me for me.

We doze and when we wake again it’s late afternoon. I reach over and grab Hunter’s phone off the nightstand to check the time. Shit, Amanda will be home soon and Hunter and I need to pick the RV up before five.

“Hey,” I say, sliding my finger along his arm. “Wake up, we have to get going.”

He grunts and shifts away from me, opening his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Four,” I say. “We need to be at the RV place by five, and your mother will be home by six.”

He frowns, and his gaze is earnest when he asks, “Will you fuck her tonight?”

Fuck, I never stopped to think about how difficult this would be for him. Watching me with his mother, especially when it’ll be just the three of us in close quarters for the next two weeks. I won’t be fucking her in front of him, of course, but I will be kissing her, touching her. I have to or she’ll know something’s up. And not having sex with her for the time we’re on the road trip is doable. We really can’t do anything with Hunter sharing the RV with us anyway, but what about afterwards when we get back home?

“Christ, Hunter, are you sure you want this? Perhaps it would be better if you went home early?”

His frown deepens. “You said I could have your hole whenever I wanted.”

I press a kiss to his nose. “And I meant it, sweet boy, but I don’t want you upsetting yourself when something happens between your mother and me, because I will fuck her while you are here, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’ll hurt for you, Oli. I said I would make you happy for a month and I meant it.” He kisses me. “But you will hurt for me, too.”

My eyes widen and he grins. “Just promise me you will think of me when you’re inside her,” he says, his eyes softer again. “Promise me when you come it will be because you pictured me inside you, filling you up and splitting you open. Being my good boy.”

My cock jerks and I almost whimper. Why does that affect me the way it does? “I promise,” I say, dumbfounded at how much I mean it, and he captures my lips again.

“Take off your pants,” he rumbles.

“What? We need to leave or we’ll be late. And I came twice in thirty minutes. I don’t have the same refractory period you do, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you’re not coming, beautiful,” he says. “Just me. I’m gonna use your pretty little hole to get off, and you’re gonna lay there and take it like the good boy you are.” He runs his fingers through my hair and I shudder.

“Christ, the mouth on you,” I whisper, stroking his bottom lip with my thumb. “You could tell me to do anything and I would.”

He smirks. “Then take your pants off, beautiful. And spread those pretty legs.”