46. FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SIX
Finn’s brow furrows as he goes through the stack of mail piled up high on the kitchen counter. Whatever negative expression he was feeling seems to vanish instantly, since he tosses the envelope aside and spares me a sad glance.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning in my seat to try and get a better look. Only after I catch a glimpse of the recipient—Anthony Murphy—does Finn step in front of me with a pouty lip.
“Nothing,” he says in an obvious lie. “Cuddle me.”
Doing just that, the tension he carries slips away as he buries his face in my chest. “Mmh, bunny… Sorry. I… my dad, you know…?”
“I don’t know, though. You don’t really tell me about anything. What even happened to him?”
For a moment Finn says nothing, but his hold on me loosens up immediately. “Nothing,” he mumbles as the tension comes back tenfold. “He got s-sick.”
“You always say it’s no big deal, but…”
“I know—It’s just… Ugh… I’m sorry, Duncan. I hate talking about him. I hate thinking about him…”
As frustrating as that answer is, I do get it. Even thinking about talking about my own family makes me want to crawl into a hole. But with Finn it's different. I’m not asking because I’m nosey, I’m asking because I feel like I know nothing about him. Who was he before me?
Could his life really have been nothing more than monotonous days of clocking in and clocking out? Driving to the gas station and then home. To the gas station and home. But what did he do at home? Could it really be possible that he didn’t have a life before me? How could that be true?
“What about hobbies?” I try with a gentle tone. “It’s like I know nothing about you, Finn. It’s… I just…”
“You don’t love me?”
“Huh? I didn’t say that.”
“If you knew what I was into, you wouldn’t love me anymore. My interests are retarded, I know.” Finn’s breathing gets heavy as he hugs me tighter. “Everything I like is gay and stupid. I’m a loser. A-Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
With all the confidence I can muster I push him off of me. “I’d never say any of that. That’s not… it’s not fair to put that on me. We have common interests, Finn. Don’t you remember? The same music? Movies? Why would I judge you?”
Finn’s hands ball into fist, and the laugh he lets out is so dark. “I don’t like any of that. I-I mean, I don’t even really wear my glasses… You saw the posters in my room. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t get it.”
“So what? It was all some big lie?”
“No.” His brows fall and he frowns at me. “I’d never lie to you. Not about anything. I thought… if we liked the same stuff, then that meant you’d like me, too.”
“…It sure sounds like a lie.”
“It’s not.”
“So then tell me!” It’s not typical for me to pry so hard, but holy fuck is he making this difficult. “I want to learn about you, Finn. What aren’t you getting?”
His hands are curled around my wrists in the blink of an eye, pulling me up and out of the seat even though it hurts. “Don’t talk down to me. Just d-don’t, please.”
“I’m not trying to—“
Finn hoists me up, carrying me over to the couch and tossing me onto the cushions effortlessly.
Wincing, I ignore the jolt of pain that rings throughout my body.
“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.
Why do you only listen to me when I’m treating you this way?
” He pins me down with nothing but desire in his dark gaze, nudging my legs open with his knee.
“Do you like it when I’m this way? You e-enjoy making me angry? ”
“Finn…” I whimper out as though I’m a victim even though I’m sporting an obvious erection in my gray sweatpants. “S-Sorry.”
The kiss that follows is rough, but I can’t ignore the delicate way he begins tugging my pants down.
It’s a total one-eighty from what just happened, but to say I don't prefer it would be stupid. Maybe he’s right, though.
Maybe I do like pulling out his cruel side.
I’d argue it’s because I prefer familiarity, but I’m scared of what exactly that means for my mental state.
I shouldn’t prefer the version of him that’s everything I hated at the start. I should want that soft, sweet Finn I was falling for originally. But that Finn feels so far away now. He’s almost from a whole other life at this point. From a life with a me that’s so different from who I am now.
Somewhere between holding down both my wrists and ridding me of my pants does Finn soften up, looking at my bright red face with regret and a twinge of curiosity. The pain subsides as he lets go, sliding down my body until he’s face to face with my bulge.
To my surprise he buries his face in it, pressing his nose right into the cleft of my balls. The stammer I let out does nothing to stop him, and it’s embarrassing how I get harder when he lets out a big huff.
“Bunny… y-you always smell so good…” he whispers between my legs as though I’m something holy. “I love you so much, Duncan. I’m sorry for being mean. I’m so sorry… L-Let me make it up to you.”
“You don’t…” I gasp when I feel the heat of his tongue press up against my tip, “you don’t have to.”
“I want to.” My leaky cock springs to attention as he removes the last layer of fabric between us, throbbing with need as he admires it for a moment. “God, Duncan… I really want to.”
It’s so easy for my mind to slip, especially when his lips wrap around me. He’s not experienced in the slightest, but it still feels so good. A hand instinctively moves to grab at his messy hair, getting tangled in his brown waves.
Those big, sweet eyes find mine—and it’s then I know I’ve lost. I wasn’t even aware we were competing, really, but I lost anyway. With a stifled moan I grasp a little tighter, squeezing my eyes shut and turning my head to the side.
There’s no denying the innate shame that builds up in my stomach whenever he touches me this way. I know what my parents would say.
But I spent so many years of my life wishing for someone to want me. I could’ve never imagined being loved this way. Sure, it’s intense, but it’s real. It has to be. Because if it isn’t, what do I have left?
Slurps and heavy breaths are all that leaves Finn’s mouth as he eagerly sucks me off.
I think it’s snowing outside again, but I can’t really tell since my focus has fixated solely on the man between my legs.
He loves the extra attention, especially when I pet his head and he leans into it like a lifeline.
I enjoy the extra attention too, I can’t lie. At this very moment it’s as though there’s no one else in the world but us. Just Finn and I all alone in our little part of the woods. Two happy people with a very normal love story.
Normal. That very word feels like it’s mocking me. Our normal, he said. Is this our normal? Giving me head on the couch after a fight? Sinking his nails into my thighs and leaving crescent shaped marks? It’s not that bad, is it?