“You’re the best boy any Daddy could ever want. The most beautiful boy in the world,” Hank soothed.
“I couldn’t wait, Daddy. It felt so good. It always feels so good with you, Hank.”
“I know, baby. I know. It always feels so good with you, too, Finn. Always.”
“But you didn’t come.”
“Don’t matter. Don’t need to.”
“Hank…”
“Shhh… this time it was all for you, baby.” Hank chuckled softly against his neck. “Probably ain’t good for me to come my brains out all the time anyhow.”
“You sure?”
“Of course, sweet boy.” Fuck, it was his kryptonite whenever Hank called himboy. It spoke to every needy little cell inside him that just wanted to be loved and cared for and cuddled.
“We gotta get down for dinner soon. I know Mom’s been cooking up a storm.”
“You okay now?” Hank brushed at his cheeks.
“Yeah, I’m okay, Hank. Just got a little out of it there. I’m good now.”
“You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
“Of course. Pinkie swear.”
“Jesus Christ. C’mon, baby, let’s get in the shower,” Hank slapped his ass cheek, a delicious sting spreading across his abused skin. “Don’t want you oozing sex and cum at the dinner table.”
“Will you carry me?”
“Fuck no!” Hank tipped back his head, laughing. “You want me to break my back?”
“Please… I’m all fucked up.”
“Jesus… c’mon, I’ll let you suck that load outta me in the shower if you behave yourself.”
“Reeeaaally?”
“Really. Now get goin’ already.” Hank pushed at him, shaking his head.
“Well, color me lucky. Daddy’s cum for an appetizer. Someone upstairs sure must love me.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to. C’mon, baby. Give me your hand.”
Groaning, Finn reached out his hand, his fingers connecting with Hank’s. Pulling him from the bed, Hank drew him tightly against his wide chest, humming contentedly into Finn’s messed-up hair. Slowly, Finn’s fingers found the paper-thin skin of his inner arm, his thumb and index finger pinching thedelicate skin, pulling a small hiss from his lips. While the pain dulled, Hank chuckled against his forehead.
“Are you pinching yourself, baby?” Sniffing against the softness of Hank’s chest hair, Finn nodded, his eyes stinging.
“Just checking,” he whispered.
“It’s real, kid,” Hank murmured, squeezing him impossibly tight, until there was only Hank and nothing else. “It’s real, baby.”
“It’s real,” Finn repeated the words against Hank’s heart. “We’re real, Hank,” he added. His words were met by the loveliest sound in the world. A sound he would never grow tired of as long as he lived. A sound he would never take for granted. The sound of Hank’s carefree laughter filling the room and thethump, thump, thumpof his heart with its eternal promise ofit’s real.
Epilogue
Finn
