Oliver

Chapter 6

Six

OLIVER

Hunter and I are in the kitchen making dinner together a couple of hours later, having returned from the RV rental place only thirty minutes before, and stealing a few quick kisses before we can’t anymore, when we hear the front door open and the thud of Amanda’s shoes and bag hitting the floor.

“Oliver?” she calls, and she sounds exhausted. “Hunter?”

“In here, love!” I say, and she appears in the doorway a moment later, looking even worse than she sounded, her face drawn and circles under her eyes, but managing a smile as she looks from me to Hunter and back again.

“You alright?” I ask. She sighs and comes to me when I open my arms. I hold her as she rests her head on my chest. The guilt I feel over being with someone as incredible as her and not being satisfied is immeasurable. What is wrong with me? Amanda is not a bad woman. No, far from it. She’s actually an amazing woman. And I hate that she doesn’t make me happy, that I don’t find myself sexually attracted to her, that I have to picture naked men when we fuck because it’s the only thing that gets me hard, and she has no idea. No idea she’s agreed to marry a man who can never love her the way she deserves. Admitting that to myself is huge. Because I’ve spent the last three months telling myself I can satisfy her, and she can satisfy me, when in reality I know better. But I’m so utterly terrified. Terrified of the truth. Terrified of myself, of what it means.

This is easier. I’ve been playing this game my entire life. I’ve done it for so long now I’ve almost convinced myself I actually could be happy with a woman. Especially one like her. One who, on top of being intelligent, beautiful, and kind, also knows how to handle my parents. When they brought up children literally a second after I introduced them, she wasn’t upset, or dismissive. She just smiled and said, “We’ll see what happens.” And while I know that she has no desire to have another child, that answer kept my parents from bringing it up again.

Why is it so hard for me, as a thirty-six year old man, to be honest with my parents? So much so that I would risk not only my happiness, but hers as well? That I’ve stooped to sleeping with her son to get what she can never give me? Is this how it will always be for us? Me stepping out on her to fulfill some unmet need, her never being the wiser? I’d convinced myself I could be content with her, but having Hunter here is making me question that all over again. Damn him for showing up two fucking months before my wedding and turning my world upside down for a second time.

“Long day,” Amanda says with a weary sigh. “Dinner smells amazing though. What did you guys make?”

“Salmon, rice, and asparagus,” Hunter says, turning to her with a smile that looks very genuine.

“My boys, cooking for me,” she croons. “You’re both so amazing.” She kisses me and then steps towards Hunter and kisses his cheek. “I’m gonna go change and I’ll be right back.”

She leaves and we exchange glances. I’ve carried guilt and shame like a weighted blanket around me for years. Before, because of my attraction to men, now because of what Hunter and I are doing. But I can’t make myself stop. And somehow, being with him makes the pain a little bit more bearable, because he knows the real me, and maybe that takes a small fraction of the weight off of me. When he’s inside me, when he tells me I’m good, I can almost believe him. Believe that I’m not broken, that who I am isn’t an abomination, or an utter disgrace. That I deserve to be loved. To be happy.

“I have to tell you both something,” she says, when she returns, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail instead of falling loosely over her shoulders like it was when she got home. She looks comfortable, but sad, and completely worn out.

“Everything alright, Mom?” Hunter asks as she sits at the table.

“I’m so sorry to do this at the last minute,” she says, looking back and forth between us, “but I just couldn’t make up my mind and I was really hoping maybe something would happen that would make me feel more at ease about leaving, but…” She bites her lip. “The trial got moved up, and, you know how much I want to make this trip, but I just can’t afford to take time off work right now. I need to be here, doing the best I can for my client. So would you two be comfortable going without me? If you don’t want to go I understand, but I hate to have you cancel because of me, and this was the main reason we asked Hunter to come home in the first place.”

She looks at me now and takes my hand, squeezing it. “And I know you’ve been looking forward to it.” I feel like a complete bellend that rather than be disappointed she’s missing out, all I feel is excitement at the prospect of spending the next two weeks alone with Hunter. “I feel awful.”

I chuckle slightly and stroke her cheek, before planting a kiss on her forehead. “It’s all right, love. Hunter and I will be fine. It will give us time to get to know each other. We haven’t had much the past few days with me working. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

She gives a sad smile, then kisses my hand. “Thank you. Be sure and send me pictures, huh?”

“Sure, Mom,” Hunter says, as we sit down to eat.

HUNTER

I wait until I hear the front door closing and Mom’s car starting the next morning, before I climb out of bed and use the bathroom. I brush my teeth, then wait a few more minutes just to be sure she isn’t coming back, before I make my way down the hall to the master bedroom.

I know I should feel disappointed that she isn’t coming with us on this trip, but all I feel is an intense giddiness at the idea of being alone with Oliver for the next two weeks, on the road, sharing an RV, going wherever we want to go and doing whatever we want to do. At first, the thought of Mom not being on this trip, of being alone with Oliver for two weeks, gave me hives, but now, after everything yesterday, it feels like a gift. I’m desperate for more time with him.

I do feel badly that Mom is so worn out and stressed. For her sake I wish things were less hectic, but I can’t bring myself to wish she was coming, no matter how awful of a son that makes me. I only have a month with Oliver, and that time had dwindled down to two weeks, after spending time on the road and watching he and Mom touching and kissing, and I honestly didn’t know how I was going to handle that, but I don’t have to, now, and I’m not going to waste the time we have.

I turn the knob on the door and push it open to see him lying in the bed on his stomach, gripping the pillow, one leg sprawled out, his auburn hair a tousled mess, his back rising and falling as he breathes. He looks absolutely delicious and utterly fuckable. I’m overcome with an intense desire to fuck him in the bed he shares with Mom. To give him more pleasure there than she ever has or ever could. To have the sheets wrapped in my scent, to have him begging me, moaning for me, saying my name in the place where they’ve made love countless times. I want the last person he derives pleasure from in this bed to be me, not her.

Grabbing the lube from the nightstand, I strip my clothes off and climb onto the bed. There’s a pang in my chest, and I know it’s my conscience, telling me that this is wrong, but I push it down. I know I should feel guilty, that what I’m doing is despicable, but any remorse I feel is buried under the weight of my desire for him. My need for him. He’s mine. I don’t know how I’m going to walk away after this month is over and act like he doesn’t own my heart, because he’s already starting to, and I know it’s inevitable. I can’t stop this, the way he makes me feel when I’m inside him, the way he responds to me, the way he lets me take control.

His brokenness calls to me. His tenderness. His softness. His desire to be loved and accepted. To be good. He is so good. So beautiful. So perfect. And I will tell him that over and over again until he believes it.

Reaching his side, I pull the covers back and see that he’s only in his underwear. I tug the waistband down and he squirms, the movement actually making it easier for me to undress him. I slide the underwear down as he turns his head to the other side, eyes still closed. Then I begin to nibble at his ass cheeks, and he squirms more, moaning slightly. I slide his underwear all the way off, then reach up and grip his half hard cock in my hand. His eyes flutter open as he moans, but then jerks as he realizes who is touching him.

“Shh,” I sooth, pressing kisses to his back and then his neck. “She’s gone.”

He relaxes under my touch, his eyes closing again as I continue to press kisses down his spine and along his ass cheeks, nibbling and sucking as I stroke him. His cock feels so fucking incredible, hard and heavy, precum sliding down the sides and onto my hand. “Fucking love your cock, baby,” I tell him, and he whimpers as his cock spasms in my grip. Fuck, that’s hot. “You love when I tell you how good you are, don’t you, Oli? How pretty you are? How goddamn fucking perfect?” His cock spasms again, harder, and I squeeze the base to stave off his orgasm. Fuck, I’m definitely making it a goal of mine to make him come just from praising him. But not today.

He whimpers when my hand leaves his cock. It’s red and angry and so damn hard, my mouth is watering wanting to taste it again. But that will have to wait too.

He jerks again when I spread his ass cheeks and circle his pucker with a lubed finger. It flutters at my touch, and I groan. I don’t want to stretch him much this time. I want him to fucking feel me. I slide my finger inside him and he mewls, his back arching. He’s still lying mostly on his stomach but I’ve decided this is exactly how I want to take him.

“I’m gonna fuck you awake, beautiful,” I murmur in his ear as I lean over him and grip his hair, tugging on it. He moans and damn, that’s hot. “I’m gonna own this pretty hole,” I continue, and with each word his cock gets harder and more precum leaks out onto the sheets. I slide my finger from his hole and grip his cock again.

He gasps and bends his knee, thrusting into my hand, chasing his pleasure, his eyes still closed. “Feel good, baby?” I ask, my voice low and husky as I stroke him.

“Yes,” he whines. “God, yes, Hunter. Please don’t stop. It feels so bloody good. Need you.” I move away long enough to slide on a condom and slick my cock up with lube, him whimpering the entire time. He moves to his hands and knees, but I shove him back down so that he’s flat on his stomach, his hard cock nestled between his body and the bed.

“I want you like this,” I tell him. “You won’t be moving at all, baby. You understand? I’m gonna do everything, just like yesterday. And just like yesterday, you’re just going to lay there and take it, like a good boy.” He shivers and nods.

I spread his cheeks and line my cock up with his entrance. In this position, his ass cheeks cocoon my cock, and it’s hot as hell. I rub his lower back as my cock jerks, aching to be inside him. Then I shove forward, one hand on his hip and the other on his lower back. He whimpers as I let out a breath. Fuck, he’s so hot and tight around me, and it feels so damn good, my cock is throbbing already.

“Shh,” I soothe, continuing to rub his back. “You’re doing so well, baby. So perfect for me. Your ass is taking my cock so beautifully.” He starts to stroke himself but I remove my hand from his back and smack his. “No touching,” I say. “Hands up by your head. Grip the pillow if you need to.”

He whimpers but does as I say. “So good for me,” I praise again, my hand returning to his lower back. I slide out, then push back in, this time not stopping until I’m fully sheathed in his incredible body, my balls resting against his ass. “Oh, fuck,” I gasp. “Fuck, that’s incredible. You feel amazing, baby.”

His body trembles but he doesn’t move other than that. I’m straddling him from behind now, his thighs underneath my ass, his hole clenching like a vice around my cock.

I rub his lower back again and press kisses to his shoulders. “Such a good boy,” I purr, and another whimper escapes him. I can tell it’s killing him not to move, but he is doing so well.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, beautiful, you won’t have a doubt in your mind who owns you,” I tell him, as I start to move inside him. “You’re gonna make me come so hard, baby.”

“Nggg,” he moans as I rest my hands on the mattress on either side of him and thrust my hips, pegging his sweet spot again and again. “You don’t come until I say,” I command. He nods.

“Did you fuck her last night, Oli?” I ask, and his eyes dart back to me. I keep thrusting and he nods. I growl.

“Did you come inside her?” I ask, and my thrusting gets harder and deeper when he nods again.

I grip his hair and he gasps as I pull on it. “Did you do as you were told and think of me?” He tries to nod again but can’t with the grip I have on his hair. “Use your words,” I demand.

“Yes,” he gasps. “I thought of you. Only you.”

I growl as I snap my hips harder and he shudders. God he feels so good. Love that I’m riding him, fucking him senseless and he’s just taking it. I’m so fucking close. I release his hair and reach around to grab his cock again. He jerks and I moan at how goddamn hard he is, the sheet underneath him slick with precum.

“Goddamn, Oli,” I growl. “You’re so fucking hard for me, aren’t you?” He nods on a whimper. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever let this cock anywhere near a pussy. Got it?” He nods again.

“Who’s cock is this, Oli?” I ask, stroking him faster as I pound into him now with a relentless need. A need to fuck her and any thoughts of her right out of him. I need to fill him, use him, make him mine.

“Yours. Fuck, it’s all yours, Hunter.”

“It is, isn’t it? It’s mine, Oli, not hers, not yours. Mine. Only mine.”

He nods furiously. “Christ, Hunter, please let me come.”

I lean over and kiss his shoulder as I thrust again and again, feeling that tell tale ache in my balls as they draw up and my spine tingles. I come on a shout, my head thrown back, my cock pulsing as load after load of my release spills inside him.

“Please,” he whimpers. I slide out of him slowly and grip his ass cheeks in my hands, burying my face in them, kissing them, nuzzling them, breathing in the scent of gingerbread, vanilla, sweat, and sex, then slipping off the condom and dribbling my cum out of it and along his ass cheeks until they’re coated in me, before licking it off again, his mewls and whimpers music to my ears.

“Fuck,” he moans, turning his head to look back at me. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Mmmm,” I murmur in ascent. “Would you like to come for me, Oli?” He nods vigorously and I grin, climbing off the bed and moving to sit in the chair a few feet away.

“Rub yourself off on the sheets, then,” I tell him. “No hands. Just your big, beautiful cock on those fancy as hell sheets.”

He grips the pillow and thrusts, his hips and ass muscles clenching, tightening, as he moves, his cock sliding along the silky white sheets until I see him trembling, gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles are white, his face flushed and sweat beaded on his brow.

“Stop,” I demand, and he does, looking over at me with wide eyes. “Don’t come.”

“Fuck,” he nearly growls. “You fucking bastard.”

I grin. “I told you you would hurt for me, Oli,” I remind him. “Again.”

He blinks and his eyes widen again when he realizes what I’m up to. “Fuck you,” he growls, and my grin widens further.

“Again,” I repeat. He thrusts his hips against the sheets, his cock brushing against it, the tip red and angry, oozing precum. I let him go until he’s shaking again. “Stop.”

He nearly snarls at me. “You bloody wanker. How many times are you going to make me do this?”

“Again,” I say. His face flushes and I see his jaw tick but he obeys, making my own cock spring back to life. Watching him rub off on the sheets is insanely erotic, especially knowing he won’t come unless I give him the okay. His ass muscles clench again and again as he moves and his thighs tremble. “Slower,” I tell him, and he adjusts his pace, his biceps bulging as he takes in a breath, gripping the pillow tighter.

It’s not long before he speaks, and his voice is a pathetic whimper. “Please,” he begs. “Please, I need to come.” He turns to look at me and my cock jerks at the sight of tears sliding down his cheeks. Fuck, that’s hot.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” I reply once his hips cease their movement. He whimpers and keeps going, his cock straining and leaking like crazy. I let him move for a moment more, his body shaking, before I say, “come for me, baby.” He lets out a choked sob, and a bellow leaves his throat as his cock shoots ropes of come onto the bed. My mouth salivates at the sight and I grip my now rock hard cock and jerk myself until I’m spraying a second time.

He collapses, a panting, gasping mess, his entire body beaded with sweat and flushed as he blinks away tears. I stand and move to him, pressing kisses to his back, before I grip his hair again and tug, forcing him to look at me. “Kiss me,” I demand, and he rotates so that he’s sitting on the bed, before I straddle him, and his lips lock with mine, my hand still gripping his sweat slicked, messy as fuck hair.

“You’re a fucking devil,” he murmurs, his body trembling still. I grin against his lips.

“You love it,” I reply, and he hums, brushing his nose against mine.

“I do,” he admits. “I really do.”

“Fuck, Oli, you make me so hard,” I tell him. “The way you surrender to me. It’s so fucking hot. I’ve always enjoyed being in control in bed, but it’s even better with you.”

He grins and pecks my lips. “Happy to oblige.”

“I think we should have a safeword. In case I ever go too far or ask you to do something you don’t like.” I stroke my fingers through his hair and he nods.

“All right. I’m not super well versed in kink but I believe red is the standard, yes?” I nod. “Red it is, then. And yellow to slow down.” I nod again, and then kiss him once more.