Chapter 32 Hunter
HUNTER
Lincoln’s face when he stopped masturbating, the agonized pull of his mouth and the wide flare of his nostrils paired with a desperate little whimper…
it was enough to make me combust. Thankfully—or not—I was saved from a miserable fate by the towering frame of my youngest brother outside of my car, rapping his knuckles against the passenger window.
I fumbled my phone, trying to turn off the screen and shove it into my pocket before climbing out of the car and giving him what I hoped was a very innocent smile.
Smith eyed me warily, chewing at the inside of his lip. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said, “Yep.”
He traced his tongue across the front of his teeth, a decidedly Marshall move before saying, “I know he does sex work. I’ve had sex with him.”
“I know you have.”
“It’s not like…it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. Is all I meant.”
It was a fair enough statement, though biting in its implication that there were no private moments between me and Lincoln, that just because he posted videos online, there was nothing special just for us.
“That one was not for sale,” I said, surprised at how protective I felt in that moment, not just of Lincoln’s work but of our relationship itself.
I didn’t want to fight with my brother. He was young, and the comment landed as I’d intended. Smith winced, dropping his head back and staring up at the sky for a breath before he looked back at me, earnest as ever. “You’re right. That was…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I promise.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Smith, it’s…I get it.” I slung an arm around my brother’s shoulder and started us both toward the restaurant.
“Lincoln’s relationship with his friends is different than most people.
His work is also…” I stopped myself from saying different than most, considering there was a time when he and I both had done different flavors of the same work.
“Moral of the story, I know you didn’t mean it poorly. ”
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” he mumbled. “I’ve not been myself lately.”
I imagined it was hard being Smith, on account of the fact he idolized Marshall very nearly to the point of detriment, and Marshall had just gently slid all of us, Smith included, out of being his first priority in life.
It was like all of us seeing a different side of him for the first time, and while I was happy my brother was happy, I was not happy my other brother was not.
“There’s been a lot of changes,” I agreed.
We stepped up in front of Cunningham’s, and I pulled the door open. Smith slipped inside first, waving a friendly hello to the hostess who looked at him like he hung the moon. I gave her a curt wave and jogged after my brother, snagging him before we got to the table.
“The hostess is pretty,” I said to him.
Smith frowned, looked over his shoulder in the direction we’d come from. “What? Oh. Yeah, she’s okay.”
“Do you…I know you slept with Lincoln, Smith. Do you prefer men?”
My youngest brother rolled his eyes at me, looking like a petulant teenager all over again. “I don’t prefer anybody.”
“Is there a label for that?”
We came around the corner, and I saw Finn and Marshall already at our usual booth, both of them relaxed in some casual conversation. Drinks for all four of us were already on the table, Finn’s mostly empty and Marshall’s nearly full.
“No. I mean, maybe. But what I meant is I haven’t thought about it at all.”
I figured that was a lie, but I wasn’t going to press the conversation in front of smartass Finn and doting father figure Marshall.
Smith sank down into the booth beside Marshall, and I took my seat beside Finn.
He glanced up at me, looking more himself than he had in weeks.
Sometimes, I wished I knew more about these Neil and Annette people so I could track them down and ask them what the hell they were doing fucking around with my brother. Why had they hurt him so carelessly?
But I also knew, even if I did have a way to get in touch with them, I wasn’t privy to my brother’s sex life, just like none of them were aware of mine…
though maybe things with me and Lincoln were a little more open book than if I had ended up with someone else.
Silas knew what Lincoln did for work, and Finn knew what I’d dabbled in.
Marshall most certainly knew about Lincoln, but I hoped Finn had held my confidence about my little experiments in sex work.
The night I’d come clean with him, I thought the floor was going to fall out from under me, but Finn had taken my secrecy mostly in stride.
If anything, my confession had opened a new door for us to share more than we had before.
Finn and I had always been close, but I felt closer to him now than I ever had.
At least, I did when he wasn’t turned upside down about the married couple he’d gotten involved with.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Marshall asked, drawing me out of my brain and back to the table.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
Oh, right.
“Yeah, I am actually.” Before leaving work, I’d chatted a little with Winters about the gathering Saturday. It was meant to be small and celebratory, no more than fifty people by most counts and a fair percent of the attendee group being my brothers.
“Is Andrew coming?” Finn asked.
“He is.”
“Is he staying the night?”
I shrugged and took a sip of my vodka soda. “We haven’t talked about it. I’m sure if he wanted to stay, he would get a hotel.”
“Can he afford it?” Finn pressed.
“I don’t know what his financial situation is, Finn,” I said to my brother, somewhat annoyed at the line of questioning.
“Just ours then?”
Ah. It was the jealousy talking.
“You know more about my finances than I know about yours,” I said. “Considering you help me with my taxes every year, but if you have enough money for that horrible pink paint we did your office in, I think you’re doing just fine.”
“Oh, my God!” Finn threw his hands up in the air, a sputtering laugh dying in his throat. “They use it in museums. It’s supposed to be relaxing and introspective.”
“Those are words you could use,” Marshall teased, and Finn gave both of us the finger before flagging down the waiter for another round and an appetizer.
I was definitely hungry, but I had big plans for the night with Lincoln, and there was no way I was going to eat a plate of lasagna before going home to him.
The video he’d recorded for me earlier in the day was still burned onto my retinas, the desperate flush that spread across his chest with every stroke an addicting bleed I wanted to see up close and personal.
“Anyway,” I said, clearing my throat and smiling at each of my brothers. “Seven tomorrow. They’re having it at the office so you have the address.”
“What time is Andrew coming up?” Marshall asked.
While I was annoyed they were still relying on me to be the middleman between them and our new brother, I was thankful at least for the interest. Their reception to the idea of a fifth brother had been chilly at best, sending Smith into a near spiral that eventually led him right into my boyfriend’s bed, and I would like to avoid a repeat of that, if at all possible.
Instead of answering them, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled down to the group text none of them had used since I started it.
Hey A. What time are you coming to town tomorrow?
Everyone’s phones buzzed, and I set mine down on the table and shrugged at them. My screen hadn’t even gone dark before another text came in, and I arched my brow at Finn, who swiped his screen on.
“Andrew says lunchtime,” he repeated.
“Lincoln and I are going to meet up with him,” I said.
“And you didn’t invite us?” Smith frowned.
“I started a group text so you could make your own plans. So you could each have your own relationships with him,” I told my youngest brother. “I’m sure if you want to join us for lunch, your presence will be more than welcome.”
“I’ve got plans,” Finn said, setting his phone facedown on the table.
“Of course you do,” I said, shaking my head.
For as eager as I was to get home to Lincoln after dinner, I was equally invested in finding out what had crawled up Finn’s ass and died.
He was absolutely still reeling from whatever had transpired with the married couple, but it was very unlike him to carry any sort of attachment this long.
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he matched my expression, waiting me out.
I was the first one to look away, breaking the tension. Beside me, Finn exhaled heavily.
“I need to piss,” I said, climbing out of the booth and knowing without looking back that he would follow. He was so close behind me, I didn’t even think he waited until my knees had cracked into place to start after me.
Locked in the confines of the bathroom, I poked my brother in the center of his chest. “What is going on with you?”
“I need a vacation,” he answered. “And I need to repaint my office.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I swallowed down any sort of biting remark I wanted to land.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Someplace with a beach and endless daiquiris.” Finn dropped his head against the wall, and I patted his cheek gently, not quite an embrace but a lingering touch just the same.
“Whatever is going on with you, Finn, you’ll come out the other side of it,” I promised him.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m just…I just miss what I had.”
Then he nodded, rubbing the side of his finger against the underside of his nostril like he’d just made up his mind about something. He let out a loud sniffle, scrunching his nose and then straightening his shoulders, rallying and ready to go.
“You can have it again.”
“Rather not,” he said, grinning at me with the barest hint of mischief in his eye. “I learned the lesson the hard way.”
“Finn.”
Someone opened the door, and Finn cleared his throat, warning me, “Don’t say a word about it to Marshall.”
“Don’t say a word about what to me?” Marshall asked.
Finn grimaced, banging his head against the wall. I shrugged my shoulders at him, not surprised in the least that Marshall had finally come after us. Ever the patriarch, always the fixer.
“I do hate the pink,” Finn said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “You were both right.”
I shot a scathing look at my brother as the door to the bathroom opened again, and Smith crammed himself into the space with us.
“I can’t believe you guys left me out there, and you’re not even really pissing.” He sounded actually hurt, and I leveled a look up at Marshall.
“I would love to, if everyone would shut up,” I told Smith, edging my way out of the group and into one of the stalls.
“You’re right,” Marshall said next. “Come on.”
It was under a minute before he’d herded Finn and Smith out of the bathroom, and not many seconds after that before my phone pinged with a text message.
Marshall
I’m worried about Finn.
He’ll be fine.
Do you know what’s wrong?
I have an idea.
And it’s nothing we can fix.
You should be more concerned about Smith and his idolatry of you.
I know.
Make time for him like you used to.
Marshall didn’t have anything to say to that, which I took as a good sign.
Before joining the three of them back at the table, I turned down the volume on my phone and gave another watch to the video Lincoln had made for me earlier in the day.
The things I was going to do to that man when I got home were unmatched, and if I made it through the weekend without convincing him to move in with me, I would be an absolute failure at life.
If he wanted to keep his apartment, that was fine, but I wanted him at mine.
I’d bring the fish over myself if that was what I had to do.
We could go over there first thing tomorrow or Sunday and transport Feeny to a new home on my dresser if that was what Lincoln wanted to do.
Then we’d have lunch with Andrew, and at some point, I’d make time to fill Lincoln up with cum and shove a plug up his ass, just like I’d promised the night I invited him to the party.
I was head over heels for Lincoln Summers, and I was ready for the whole world to know it.