“It’s a strange coincidence, isn’t it? That you’re both gay. Don’t you think?” Finn looked up, his brown eyes almost black now as the sun retreated behind the tree line.
“I guess you could say so. Then again, I’m not sure Colton considers himself one way or the other. He was never much of a relationship kinda guy, I think. Not until he met Henry.”
“Hmmm…” Finn brushed a hand through his hair in a poor attempt at flattening it. The frost in the air had made it frizzy and electric these past few days, leaving it in a permanent state ofdisarray. Probably didn’t do him any favors that Hank had made a habit out of grabbing it roughly during their extra-friendship activities.
“What hmmm?”
“I think I realized I was bi when I was in high school. I had a girlfriend, and she was cute and sweet, but I always ended up checking out the other jocks in the locker room, admiring their lean bodies, wondering how they’d feel.”
“You were a jock?” Hank couldn’t help the surprised snort that slipped from his mouth.
“Yeah, why?” Finn stretched his long, toned legs out in front of him on the ground. The snow had disappeared as quickly as it had hit them, the lingering frost a reminder, though, that winter was still only just starting.
“Nothin’. Just didn’t figure you as a jock, is all.” Hank brushed at his beard, hiding a smirk behind his hand.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I ran track,” Finn countered.
“Track?” Hank laughed, unable to contain himself any longer. “Yeah, you’re a regular jock, alright.”
“Shut up, old man,” Finn spat, his eyes fiery, challenging. Jesus, he loved it when Finn got all fired up like that, the crazy-ass Hun coming out to play.
“Yeah, yeah, kid, easy now.” Hank shook his head, the aftermath of his laughter lingering in his chest like a deep, warm rumble.
“I was the best in the 800m in Lane County two years in a row, just so you know.” Finn pouted, throwing the cone at Hank and hitting him square in the forehead.
“You little shit!” Hank blurted, scrambling to his feet and closing the gap between them. Lunging at Finn, who in return squeaked while attempting to crawl backward on his hands and feet like a hermit crab, Hank grabbed his left boot around theankle and hauled Finn towards him. “You’re gonna get it now, you damn hellion.”
“Let go of me, you brute,” Finn laughed breathlessly, struggling to break free from Hank’s solid grasp. “Get your hands off me!”
“Why?” Hank panted, equally out of breath. He was getting too old for this shit. “I thought you liked my hands on ya. At least, that’s what it sounded like this mornin’. ‘Please, Hank. Please.’”He imitated Finn’s pleading voice, although he couldn’t get it exactly right, the breathy little gasps clinging to each syllable, evading him now.
“That’s not what I sound like!” Finn protested, his legs still kicking, his hips wiggling wildly. “You missed the last part, you old man. Your hearing was probably failing you.” Finn was half-laughing now, half-growling, and it was just too damn adorable, his cheeks flushed a deep cherry red, eyes wild and wanton.
“Oh, yeah?” Hank asked, grabbing Finn’s junk behind his worn jeans. “Could’ve fooled me,” he winked, rubbing the palm of his hand roughly against the thick outline of Finn’s hard-on. “What did you say then? Tell me!”
“I said…” Finn squirmed beneath him, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead in his now half-hearted attempt to break free from Hank’s forceful grip. “‘Please, Hank. Please, get off me!’”
“You sure?” Hank started tearing at the zipper impatiently, an equally impatient moan spilling from Finn’s lips. “You sure it wasn’t ‘Please, Hank. Please get me off?’” Tugging determinedly at the hem of Finn’s jeans, he held him in a tight hold by the hip with his other hand. They were both worked up by now, Finn’s pelvis vibrating beneath him, Hank’s own pants feeling like an unwanted second skin he just wanted to shed.
Tearing the jeans down Finn’s shivering thighs, Hank smirked at the sight in front of him.
“No briefs?” He raised an eyebrow knowingly. “Ain’t it a little cold for that?”Shit,it was cold. Too damn cold for naked outdoor activities, but Hank couldn’t seem to care.
“Someoneforgot to do the laundry,” Finn quipped, his naked cock twitching, precum leaking from the slit, the curly blond hair at the base of his cock already damp, a heady smell wafting towards Hank. Two fat thumb imprints—his thumbs—decorated Finn’s pale skin just where his thigh ended and his groin began. The deep violet looked obscene against the paper-white skin, the contrast so loud that Hank felt a possessive groan build inside his chest. A groan he absolutely shouldn’t try to decipher because its meaning could disrupt his life as he knew it, resulting in even more dangerous ideas.
“Someonekept getting interrupted,” Hank gritted, grabbing Finn’s balls mercilessly, squeezing them tightly in his fist. The blush across Finn’s cheeks deepened, his eyes glistening with intoxication, his tongue peeking out, licking hungrily at his bottom lip.
“Please, Hank,” he moaned, his hips struggling to create friction, the angry-red cockhead slapping against his stomach, his happy trail glistening, short strands all golden and delectable.
“Please, what?”
“Hank!”
“Say it!” he demanded, not letting Finn off that easily. He’d rather blow in his own pants like a goddamn teenager than let the kid do that.
“Please!” His panicked voice tore through the woods. “Please make me come.”
“That’s a good boy,” Hank praised, his eyes not leaving Finn’s. The moths were back, fluttering in the dim light of the late afternoon, drops—tears—clinging to their muddy-brown wings, giving them a golden hue.Golden.He was, wasn’t he? Golden,as he lay there beneath Hank in all his goddamn gilded glory, his entire body shaking with arousal. “I’ll give you what you need. All you had to do was ask,” he chuckled.
