Nodding slowly, Finn whispered, “Yeah.” Then a low chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, better than okay.”
“Good,” Hank hummed as he withdrew from Finn’s hole, pulling a small hiss from his lips. “You sore?” Concern clung to the words, Hank back to being Hank-the-caretaker again instead of the Hank-I’ll-fuck-you-into-oblivion-and-back.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Finn replied, already missing the sensation of being filled to the brim, stuffed full of Hank’s cock. Bending beside him, Hank pulled Finn’s pants back up his thighs and then over his hips. Then, patting his right hip, Hank reached for his left hand, pulling at his fingers.
“C’mon,” he coaxed.
“What?” Finn asked, still dazed, exhaustion catching up with him, his eyes searching for something to fixate on in the darkness, Hank’s heady scent, in the end, becoming his sole focal point.
“Shower, and then we better catch up on some sleep.” Moving across the kitchen, Finn trailing behind him on unsteady legs, Hank spoke over his shoulder, “It’s late, kid. Or early, however you wanna look at it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hank
Now
So, apparently, he had a friend-with-benefits now. At least, that’s what the young folks called it, right? Because that was basically what they’d been reduced to, going at it all weekend since that first time in the kitchen. They’d been fucking, plain and simple, like animals. And it slowly dawned on Hank that he’d never done that before. Fornicated like Pastor Midlake would probably refer to it during his Sunday sermons. Sure, he’d had sex before. Lots of it. But what he’d had with Eugene had been gentle. A tender exchange of caresses and murmured endearments ending in post-orgasmic affirmations ofmineandyours.It had been love-making because they’d been in love.
What he experienced with Finn was something else entirely. It was impulsive and rough. Sweaty and rushed. Hardly any words exchanged between them during the act itself. Moments later, after their clothes had been adjusted and their labored breathing had normalized, they would just go on with their day as if nothing had happened.
“You want another cup of coffee, Finn?”
“Sure. Thanks, Hank.”
“So, tell me about those whales. I never saw one.”
“You never saw one? Never?”
“Kid, not everyone has seen a whale. It would mean I’d have to go to the ocean, right?”
“You’ve never been to the ocean either? Jesus, Hank, you really are a small-town boy, aren’t you?”
“Never claimed to be anythin’ else, did I now?”
“Okay, so the gray whale…”
Their comfortable conversation and banter back and forth would flow easily until one look—that look—from his house guest would result in another round of famished kisses leading to hurried groping and finally an inelegant pounding. Nasty noises and lust-induced sounds. Like a race almost in who could beat the other towards that bliss-inducing finish line. How they could just go about their individual tasks afterward, talking like civil human beings, blew Hank’s mind. Like they hadn’t just devoured each other like feral animals against the kitchen counter or in the mudroom, Finn clinging to those ridiculous duck hangers, while Hank stole another orgasm from his insatiable hole. A few hours here and there, Rod askingDa Ya Think I’m Sexy?from the radio, where he felt almost normal, no trace of that all-consuming need. Just back to being the good old Hank again, tightening a screw, checking the brakes, and doing an oil check. Until it would strike again, Finn popping his head into the shop, asking some random mundane question like,‘Dowe have more canned tomatoes?’or‘Do you wanna watch that WWI documentary later?’Then it would spring back to life, that internal hunger, from that one look or innocent tilt of the chin.
So, yeah, he guessed that the term friends-with-benefits was kind of fitting. At least, it had a more mature and less vulgar ring to it. And it was true. Because they had, in fact, become friends. Perhaps the best friend he’d had in ages. He was starting to notice small things about himself that had either gone unnoticed before or that were brand new. He would laugh more, joking around with Finn in a way that reminded him of Walter and him when they were kids. During their long afternoon walks in the woods before darkness wrapped everything in a black blanket, they would talk about everything and nothing in particular. And Finn was changing, too, sharing more about himself and his past, personal pieces of the puzzle, asking Hank questions in return.
Like right now, as he was sitting facing the creek, his back resting against the trunk of a massive pine tree, looking at Hank in that knowing way, like they were old friends. Like they went way, way back and had just recently reconnected, picking up exactly where they’d left off decades ago.
“So, it was because of Eugene that you and Walter fell out, wasn’t it?” Finn squinted pensively at the tops of the trees. Hank would bet his old hat that he was probably looking for those damn birds again, those mourning doves. But they would be difficult to hear over the continuous rush of the creek. Some days, it sounded like a rolling thunderstorm or a ravenous beast, so loud that all other noises were swallowed up and there was only therush, rush, rushof the water left inside your head.
“I guess you could say so, although, in many ways, we were always very different. It just became clearer as we grew older, the gap too wide to bridge when I met Eugene.” It felt natural to meet Finn’s questions with raw honesty now that he knew thatFinn, too, had experienced loss. Of course, he didn’t know the nature of Finn’s loss, but it had to be life-altering if he was to go by how Finn had reacted a few nights ago. The ugliness that he’d shown Hank was humbling, to say the least, pushing at Hank’s notion that his own suffering was unique and unparalleled. And perhaps sharing body fluids had helped, too, in creating vulnerability and trust between them. Hank winced at the thought of how many times he’d come inside Finn already. The filthiness of their exchanges. He’d only ever had unprotected sex with Eugene, and yet, as ridiculous as it might be, he trusted Finn blindly and Finn seemed to return that sentiment.Trust.
“And you never saw him again?” There was a wistful undertone to his voice, and it wasn’t the first time that Hank felt the urge to ask Finn about Cara in return. He’d long suspected that what had happened between Finn and his sister was the cause of his restless cross-country journey for the past eight years. And yet, something kept him from asking, afraid that he would cross a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. An act that would result in Finn withdrawing or disappearing from his life altogether. A thought that left him sick to his stomach, losing this friendship he’d just gained.
“Well, I saw him around town, of course, but he mostly kept to himself. Especially when his wife Amy, Colton’s mother, died the following year. He pretty much became a recluse after that.”
“That’s really sad,” Finn murmured. Yeah, it had been. Really sad. It was sad when people were hurting, and they wouldn’t let you in and allow you to share their pain. At one point, it had been like that with Colton, his nephew, close to walking in his father’s footsteps, turning away from the world, suffering in silence. Luckily, he hadn’t. He’d fought his way out of that pit and Hank was damn proud of—even humbled by—him for it.
“Yeah, I guess it is. Never really thought about it like that before. I was just pissed off for a long time after that. And aftera while, I stopped caring and focused on my life with Eugene.” Because he had, hadn’t he? Eugene had been everything, his days beginning and ending with him, everything else just footnotes, really.
“So, when did you reconnect with Colton?” Finn looked down at the ground, picking up a half-eaten cone and twirling it between his fingers. The same fingers that had been grabbing the kitchen counter so tightly that his knuckles had turned white when Hank had fucked him with his fingers this morning.
“When he was discharged from the army. He’s got PTSD, you know. It was worse back when he first got here. He came to stay with me for a while. In your room, actually…”Your room.“Started workin’ with me at the shop. Always been great with engines, that boy. Then he met young Henry, of course, and they shacked up. Best thing to ever happen to that boy, meeting Henry.” At first, he’d been jealous of the two of them. Not because he wanted Henry for himself. Hell no, that kid was too polished and preppy for Hank’s taste. No, he’d been jealous of their world of two where nothing and no one else mattered. It didn’t stick for long, though. It was hard to stay jealous of something that was just so right. In the end, he’d done what the rest of the town had done—just stood back and witnessed their happiness, a stupid-ass grin on his face. Yeah, happiness was contagious. So was love.
