“Okay,” Hank wheezed, his throat impossibly dry, but he would be damned if that was going to keep him from uttering the words going on repeat in his head. “So, I’m just gonna put it out there in case you change your mind.”
“What?” Finn panted too, coughing, cheeks blazing red. He buried his chin and nose inside the red scarf—Hank’s scarf—shivering despite his thick parka.
“That if you ever want it, it’s yours, too. My heart.” For the briefest moment, he saw the answer reflected across Finn’s beautiful face. Loud and clear. Screaming at him like a greedy little beast.I want it!Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone again.
“Okay. Good to know.” Finn tipped his chin in defiance, his eyes still dark with want. “I’ll think about it…” He pursed his lips, before sticking out his tongue, leaping towards the ocean. “C’mon, Daddyyyy,” he yelled like the wild, beautiful creature that he was. “Last one to the ocean is a—” the last of his sentence was swallowed by the wind, but Hank could very well imagine what it was from Finn’s facial expression alone. Bracinghimself for the harsh wind, Hank followed behind Finn at a more moderate pace.
It took very little effort to teach a child to distrust the world and years upon years to break down those defensive walls. But it didn’t matter. Hank had the rest of his life to work on that. He was a patient man. So, what if Finn’s language was different at times? Hank’s was, too. Didn’t mean they didn’t understand each other.
Because it was real, wasn’t it? What Finn gave him, and what he was pretty sure no one else could ever give him, was borne out of a pure heart and a beautiful soul. What he could give Finn back in return was real, too. And honest. No strings. He’d had love once before. Who was to say he couldn’t have it again? That what he felt for Finn couldn’t co-exist with this newfound fondness he’d felt lately whenever he thought of Eugene. Who was to say that it wasn’t love, too, what he felt for Finn? It was different, but not less. It was something in its own right. And if Finn the Hun, his brave, beautiful boy, wanted him—him, Hank—then he was all for it. All fucking for it.
Chapter Forty-Two
Finn
Now
Hank’s right shoulder blade was the best pillow in the world. It just had to be. Without comparison. It was so broad, with thick muscles that flexed whenever Hank moved beneath him, above him, inside him. Just perfect for resting your head on. But it was soft, too, the downy coat of fur reminding Finn of what it would be like to go into hibernation with a bear. Fuck, after the emotional limbo of the past few weeks, he wanted to hibernate with Hank. Sleep for days without end, only interrupted by intermittent fucking and small breaks for food and water. Hank could feed him. He could be Daddy Bear and Finn, well, hewould just be Lazy Bear or some horny version of Goldilocks.Goldicock.
“Why are you laughing?” Hank’s smooth bass vibrated underneath his right ear, sending aftershocks through his entire body. His hole clenched and unclenched a few times of its own accord, as if the small muscle reacted instinctively to the sound of Hank’s voice. Finn couldn’t hide the shiver of pure bliss that ran through him at the sensation of Hank’s cum trickling out of his hole, trailing down his taint. Fuck, he was so well and thoroughly fucked.
“Why don’t people hibernate?” he yawned against the small birthmark right between Hank’s shoulder blades.
“What now?” Hank chuckled, his massive frame rumbling beneath Finn.
“Nothing.” Finn kissed the two syllables into Hank’s skin, the saltiness exploding on his lips, then his tongue.
“I almost forgot what it’s like,” Hank murmured as he turned onto his back, his huge left upper arm somehow, so effortlessly, sweeping Finn with him, maneuvering him onto his chest and stomach. Automatically, Finn’s fingers dove into the coarse salt and pepper fur covering Hank’s chest, his blunt nails scraping against Hank’s skin, pulling barely audible grunts and growls from his lover’s lips.His lover.
“What?” Finn rubbed his semi against Hank’s thigh, the short hairs on his thighs creating just the right amount of friction against his sensitive cockhead to keep him suspended in that place between subtle pleasure and full-blown climax.
“To lose yourself in someone,” Hank spoke against his temple, sucking Finn’s skin into his mouth.
“What does it feel like?” Finn whimpered, squirming under Hank’s ministrations. His ass cheeks still burned from before, and it had taken everything for Finn not to jump out of bed immediately after and run into the en suite bathroom to take inHank’s artistry. Whatever, the imprints of Hank’s palm would still be there later for Finn to admire, and he certainly would be reminded once they sat down to have dinner with his family. Hank’s spankings were just the gift that kept on giving. When he pulled on his jeans, the rough material felt like sandpaper against his blazing thighs and ass. Whenever he moved, bent, or sat down, he would be reminded of the extent of Hank’s love for him and the best thing about it was that it was their secret. Whenever Finn would wince in his seat, Hank would flush adorably, perhaps growl a little, and Finn’s mom would look at him, a curious frown between her brows. Cara would smirk at Finn, who in return would just shrug and ask her to pass the cranberry sauce.
“It feels like…” Hank breathed against his skin, “like you no longer know where you end, and the other person begins.” It still caught him by surprise when he heard Hank speak like this. So… naked and vulnerable. In such thoughtful and profound phrases. Because itdidfeel like that. It was basically the only way you could describe how it felt.
“It sounds frightening,” Finn spoke, and he realized it was probably going to become a thing now. That he would more often than not be frank with Hank about how he felt. About how certain things made him feel. He’d never revealed these parts of himself to anyone before, but with Hank, it happened all on its own, beyond his control. All his doubts and fears. Hopes and dreams, too. Wants and needs. It all spilled from him with the absolute certainty that Hank would catch him, accept him, and love him.
“It is,” Hank hummed into his hair. “Very. But it’s also wondrous.”
“In which way?”
“I don’t know, kid.” He felt Hank shrug beneath him.
“Please, Hank. Try to explain it to me.” Finn looked up, resting his chin on Hank’s chest. And as always, a deep sigh blew from Hank’s lips, and he indulged him.
“It’s like, in losin’ yourself, you also discover new parts about yourself. Like you get to meet this entirely different version of yourself. Or at least, it feels that way. I don’t know if it makes sense…” Hank trailed off, squeezing Finn tighter against him.
“Is that how it was with Eugene?”
“In some ways, yes. Yeah, I guess it was like that in many ways,” Hank nodded. “Never thought it could happen twice in a lifetime, but I guess someone upstairs must like me.” There was a bittersweet edge to Hank’s voice, and Finn recognized its origin by now. It was the remnants of Hank’s grief mixed with his newfound happiness with Finn. He heard it in his own voice from time to time, too, when past pain collided and merged with his current joy.
“I’ve only ever felt that way with you, Hank,” he confessed. “You’re my knight in a mustard-yellow truck, Daddy.”
“Am I now?” Hank rumbled and Finn recognized the warning edge to his voice that always surfaced whenever Finn would call himDaddy.
“You are,” Finn sighed. “Still can’t believe you came for me. It’s like it was taken out of one of my mom’s fucking romance novels.” It had been. Fucking epic. The grand gesture of all grand gestures. Forhim. For Finn.
