Chapter 8

Eight

HUNTER

After our meals, we return to the shop to pay for our food (the French Toast was absolutely worth the calories by the way) and to browse a bit more. I purchase a pecan log that I tell Oliver is delicious. A mixture of nougat, caramel, and of course, pecans.

Oliver is enraptured by a toy parrot that repeats what you say, moving its beak and wings as it does. I cave and purchase it for him when he isn’t looking. We have batteries in the RV so we don’t need those, and even though it’s clearly a child’s toy, I have a feeling he never really had much of a childhood, and it makes me happy to see him enjoying something so simple.

We use the bathroom and then climb back into the RV and head towards Philadelphia. I think one of my favorite things about being on this trip with Oliver is how dressed down he is. I’ve seen him in sweats a couple of times but never jeans or shorts, and he looks sexy as hell in both. His hair is less styled to perfection than usual, and I love the rumpled look on him. Makes it look like he just got fucked.

As I drive, I look over and see him pressing buttons on his kindle. I didn’t even know he had a kindle, or enjoyed reading.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing right now. I can’t find anything that is keeping my attention unforuntately.”

He sounds utterly morose, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout that I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing, but it’s adorable. “What do you like?”

He shrugs. “Fiction, mysteries, suspense, really anything with a good plot and decent characters that will let me escape for a bit.”

“You read any romance?”

His cheeks pinken again and I can’t help smiling when he clears his throat. “Not very much, no, I couldn’t get into reading about straight sex, believe it or not. I tried it when I thought…” he trails off for a second. “When I thought it might help me…” he trails off again and I nod. God, did he make himself read straight romance or watch straight porn to try and convince himself he wasn’t gay? Or to try and make himself not gay? I hate that he felt so ashamed and wanted to be anything other than who he is.

“There’s gay romance, you know,” I tell him. His eyes light up at that, and fuck, I can’t even with this man.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” I say, with a chuckle and a smile. “Tons of them, and they’re really good.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I can tell you some I like, if you want.”

“You read gay romance?” he asks, seeming rather stunned at the idea.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten some great stuff for my spank bank from reading gay romance, plus lots of amazing stories, too. I love reading about characters I can relate to.”

“Okay, tell me what to read,” he says, finger poised over his kindle.

“Um, okay, well, it depends what you like.”

He frowns and it’s too fucking cute. Damn I need to feel his lips on mine. It’s been too fucking long. “I don’t know what I like.”

“Okay, well, like there’s different genres, like contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, historical. Then there’s different tropes within the genre like, do you want a dark romance, or something angsty that might make you cry, or are you into the more feel good, fluffy stuff. There’s friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, age gaps, second chance, single father, cowboys.There’s even some taboo books that are really good if you’re into that kind of thing.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Taboo? Like what?”

“Like stepbrothers, or blood relations if you want really taboo.”

His eyes widen. “People write about blood relatives doing the hanky panky?”

I can’t help laughing. “Yes. It’s fiction.” He nods.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that quite yet, but stepbrothers sounds intriguing. Or friends to lovers, maybe. Or age gap.” He flushes at that and I feel my cheeks heating slightly, too.

“Okay, well, if you want a good age gap you should try Until You by Felicity Snow. It’s got some kink but I think you’ll like it. If I’m wrong you can tell me. If you like that one she has a kinky stepbrother erotica you can try.”

He nods and taps away at his kindle, then turns to show me the cover of a sexy silver fox running his fingers through his hair and the title, Until You displayed on the front along with the author’s name. I nod. “That’s it.”

“Mmmm, I like it already,” he practically purrs, and I laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say something like that before, acknowledging his attraction to another man, real or otherwise, except me, of course.

He sits back in his seat and even puts his bare feet up on the dashboard as he reads, and I can’t stop smiling. I’ve never seen him so relaxed.

Only five minutes later I’m pulling off the road and into a rest stop, putting the RV in park. He looks up. “Is everything all right? Why did we stop?”

I’m unbuckled and out of my seat in an instant, gripping his face and pressing my lips to his. He grunts and drops his kindle, then moans when I grip his hair and tug. God, I love that. I tilt his head back, sliding my tongue in his mouth and hearing him whimper. My cock jerks and I climb into his lap, straddling him.

“Fuck,” I breathe, when we’ve parted. His hair is a mess, his lips are swollen and covered in my spit and his eyes are blown wide. I can see his very hard cock tenting his shorts, and mine is throbbing too.

“Bloody hell. Did you pull over just to kiss me?”

“Maybe,” I say. “You were just so fucking cute at the restaraunt and then having this conversation about steamy gay romance and…God, everything about you turns me on, Oli.”

His eyes lock with mine for a second before he’s gripping my hair and crashing our mouths back together, sucking and biting my lips. I unzip his pants in a frenzy and he does the same to me. We start to jack each other off and suck on each other’s tongues at the same time, moaning and whimpering as we do. My cock throbs in his grip and he strokes me fast and hard.

“Fuck, Oli,” I gasp. His hand feels so incredible around my cock, and the feel of his cock in my hand just adds to the desire I feel for him. I want to make him come so badly. I match his rhythm as I stroke him and capture his mouth with mine again. Seconds later he’s whimpering into my mouth as I pick up my speed, gripping him harder, and I know he’s close.

He comes hard only seconds later, whimpering into my mouth repeatedly as he does, his cock spasming in my grip as he shoots his release all over my hand and his shirt.

“Fuck,” I cry. I’m so damn close. “Fuck, Oli.” He grips my neck and bites down hard, and I cry out, my release coating his hand and dripping onto my lap. I lean forward and rest my forehead against his as I come down from the high of my orgasm.

“Was that okay?” he asks, gripping my hips, his hand still sticky with my release.

I nod. “Fuck, yes. That was hot as hell.” He grins and pecks my lips again. Then we get cleaned up and head back out on the road.

OLIVER

It’s nearly three in the afternoon by the time we reach Philadelphia. I’ve been enjoying my book so much I don’t want to put it down, but I won't let Hunter handle everything. Once we’ve arrived at the campground he parks the RV and gets everything hooked up, while I watch so I know how to do it in the future. He makes it look easy, even backing the RV into our spot, when I’m sure it was anything but.

There’s a lovely lake in front of us and lush greenery on all sides, giving us ample shade. We have a picnic table and our own grill. Birds fly overhead, and ducks sit on the sparkling clear blue water. There’s a dock leading out over the lake and canoes and paddle boats for rental. There’s also hiking trails nearby. Though honestly I’m perfectly content to just sit here and relax for now.

When everything is set up, we break out a blanket and chairs and arrange them outside the RV. I’m sitting on my chair, once again with my kindle, when Hunter emerges from the RV with a mug and hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I say, setting my kindle on my lap and taking it. I inhale the scent of lemon and chamomile and relax as I breathe it in.

“You didn’t get your tea earlier. I thought you might like some,” he says, as he takes his place on the blanket near my feet and lies down, his hands behind his head and sunglasses on his face.

“Oh,” I reply. “I wasn’t even aware we brought the kettle.” I take a sip and it’s utterly perfect, the right amount of milk and honey.

He shrugs. “I know you have tea every morning. I didn’t want you going without. There’s a few different flavors of tea bags in there. I just picked the one that sounded good.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. He’s right of course, but I never knew he noticed. “Thank you.” I sip my tea and let it seep into my bones. I hardly need the warmth out here, with the sun beating down overhead, but I enjoy the taste and it’s always been a pick me up. There’s a nice breeze going at least, which makes the heat not as miserable. It’s actually rather pleasant. I honestly can’t remember the last time I just sat outside. The last time I relaxed before this trip, or I didn't have work or family or my own internal angst weighing me down. But here, I feel like I can be me; like I don’t have to pretend or hide anything. Being with Hunter makes it easier for me to embrace the parts of myself I’ve kept buried for so long. Being on this trip with him is everything.

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I ask, taking another sip of my tea, and realize when he hums slightly that he was drifting to sleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, and rubs my bare foot, and it’s oddly sweet. “No, I thought we’d maybe visit the zoo, or an art museum or something? We’ll have time for a few things. I like to stick to one activity a day and then spend the rest of the time relaxing.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” There’s a pause before I find myself saying, “Fancy a swim? Then I’ll make you supper.”

“You’re going to cook for me?” he asks, sitting up.

“Of course. I don’t mind it, and you did all the driving.”

He smiles. “Well, I won’t say no.”

We head into the RV to change and I gape when I see the bright blue speedo that Hunter slips into. It looks divine on him, all that gorgeous warm beige skin on display, and hugging his cock and balls so perfectly I almost whimper.

“Christ, you fucking tease,” I murmur, and he gives a wicked grin. “I’m going to have an epic boner the entire bloody time if you wear that.”

“I have an extra,” he says, pulling a red one out of his bag and holding it up for me, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, God, no, I couldn’t. No one wants to see these white legs and freckles. They’d go blind.”

“You’re joking.” He moves closer to me and slides his hand along my thigh, making me gasp. “These are the sexiest fucking legs I’ve ever seen,” he rumbles. He nibbles on my neck as he pops the button on my shorts and slides the zipper down over my hard on. “I would love to see you showing off this gorgeous body.” He presses kisses to my neck and jaw and I shiver, then gasp as he tugs and my shorts fall to the floor, pooling at my feet.

“Christ, you little minx, you know I can’t say no to you,” I respond, my voice low. I can feel him grinning against my cheek before he grips the waistband of my underwear and slides them down, letting them fall on top of my shorts.

“Pick up your foot and hold on to me,” he says, and I do. I bloody do whatever he tells me to do because I fucking love it. I love his bossiness and his bravado. I love his domination and control. I fucking crave it in a way I have never craved anything before. I love being given orders by him. I love not having to think about anything other than obeying him and knowing it will make him happy. Knowing it will make me happy.

I grip his shoulders and lift one foot, letting him slide the speedo on. “Good boy,” he praises, and God, why does that have the effect on me that it does? Why do I melt and become so hard in an instant when he tells me I’m good? Why do I crave it so much when he gives me any type of praise? It just makes me want to please him more. It makes some of the self-hatred I’ve carried for so long not feel quite so heavy. Makes me feel a little more worthy, a little more loveable, each and every time.

“Other foot,” he instructs and I do the same, shifting my weight so he can slide the other end on me. Then I’m standing there while he slides it up and over my erection that has only gotten harder. I gasp when he sinks to his knees in front of me and my cock jerks as he presses kisses to my feet, then works his way up my legs, kissing my ankles, then my knees, then my thighs, before he presses a kiss to my balls, and then the tip of my cock. Christ, what is he trying to do to me? I can’t stand the level of his affection, his care. The way he seems to know exactly what I need and when. I suck in a breath as my cock twitches. I’m honestly surprised when he doesn’t pay more attention to my cock but I’m not disappointed. This is another level of intimacy, of respect, of worship, that I’ve never experienced. Fuck, I have tears filling my eyes as he makes his way up my torso, leaving more soft kisses in his wake, my body trembling. My face is flushed when he reaches my lips and kisses me.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against my lips. “Inside and out, Oli. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I have no words, so I simply nod. Then we grab our towels and sunscreen and head back outside.

We spend quite a bit of time in the water before we lie on the grass on our towels, letting the sun dry us. I’ve become more comfortable in my swimwear after seeing Hunter’s gaze on me multiple times and the way his body responds. It’s flattering and a definite confidence booster. I think I actually like the speedo more than my regular swim trunks. It’s quite comfortable, to be honest, and less constricting all around.

As we lay there in silence, enjoying the breeze and the sounds of nature, I feel Hunter sliding his hand into mine. It seems hesitant, though, a bit unsure.

“This okay?” he asks, turning to look at me. I squeeze his hand.

“Yes,” I reply. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about holding hands in public.”

Oh, sweet boy. That he’s thinking of me and wanting to make sure I’m comfortable and safe is so utterly endearing. “Can I kiss you?” I ask, and he leans into me, our lips brushing. His lips are warm and soft and utterly perfect. The way he grips my neck, tangling his fingers in the hair there, the way he moves his lips over mine, the soft caresses, sliding his tongue inside to taste me every now and again, it’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. His kisses are sensual, addicting. He kisses me like I deserve to be kissed, to be appreciated, to be savored. I’ve never had a kiss make me feel safe and worshiped at the same time, until him.

We kiss a while longer, before I sigh and run my fingers through his wet hair. “Why don’t we go shower and change?” I suggest. “Then I’ll make dinner.” He nods and we head back inside.