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Matty chuckled. It was perhaps a ridiculous notion to some, but to Matty it felt like the greatest declaration of love that an old, rough lobsterman from Maine would refer to himself ashis old man.
“So, you see, everything that boy does, is because he loves ya. Because he knows what it’s like to lose someone you love. Not because theyhadto leave you, but because theychoseto do so. And Austin just wants to keep ya. If I’m not mistaken, he made that decision a long time ago when you blew into Grant’s Harbor like a breath of fresh air. And he’s not the only one who feels that way, I might add. We all just wanna keep ya here, son. Where you belong.”
Swallowing audibly, Matty failed to fight back the tears building in his eyes.
“I know, Will. But he’s not gonna lose me,” Matty mumbled, looking into his coffee cup, brushing at his eyes. “He doesn’t need to buy me a house. I don’t need anything from him except for him to love me,” he sniffed, wiping at his nose.
Will nodded, exhaling deeply.
“Well, son, did it ever occur to you that maybeheneeds it. Maybe Austin needs to build the kinda life with you that he never got to have growing up. And if that involves him doing things at another pace sometimes, then Matty… isn’t that a small price to pay in return for having someone like Austin in your corner?”
Suddenly everything closed in at the thought of Austin thinking that maybe he’d lost Matty after their fight this morning. The thought that Austin was hurting right now, and that it would only take one word from him to make Austin not hurt any longer. Standing up abruptly, Matty nearly knocked over the chair. Grabbing his cell phone from his chest pocket in his coveralls, he waved at the half-empty coffee cup.
“Thanks for the coffee, Will… And you know, for… for everything,” he blurted. “I gotta go. I gotta go find Austin,” he continued while he was already putting his boots back on and halfway out the door, tapping at his phone.
“No worries, son. You go on now,” Will grinned and yelled him. “See you boys for lunch Sunday!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Avery – Now
“ARE YOU SUREyou’re only nineteen? Do I need to ask for your driver’s license?” Avery brushed his hand against Ethan’s sweaty chest.
“Why?” Ethan’s breath hit his right shoulder, sending glorious aftershocks through his entire body.
“Becausethatdidn’t feel like a nineteen-year-old fucking a guy for the first time. I bet that when we take down the tent tomorrow, we’ll find a big indentation in the ground.”
It’d been fucking ruthless the way Ethan had plowed him into the ground, and Avery had loved every minute of it. It had been nothing short of spectacular.
“Fuck you, man,” Ethan chuckled, biting at Avery’s shoulder, then gently kissing the sting away. “Seriously, though. Was it okay?” Ethan was adorable when he looked at him that way, an insecure frown between his auburn brows.
Avery turned around and searched Ethan’s questioning gaze. He was a conundrum, this young man out of Eden, Texas. So insecure at times, and then in bed Ethan was like a chameleon morphing into this dominant, sexual creature who took exactly what he wanted.
“I kind of assumed that me having to bury my moans and shouts of pleasure in the sleeping bag gave it away, but in case there were any doubts whatsoever; what you just subjected me to was epic sex, my young friend.” Avery kissed the tip of Ethan’s nose before he trailed his lips down to Ethan’s pouty mouth.
“Yeah? It was good?” Ethan smiled tentatively.
“Yes, handsome, it was really fucking good. You may have to carry me to the car tomorrow, though.”
“Okay. That’s a price worth paying,” Ethan chuckled before kissing Avery again, this time prying his lips open with his teasing tongue. The frailty of the kiss, nothing more than a whisper against Avery’s lips, stood in sharp contrast to the primal version of Ethan he’d encountered mere minutes ago.
They had been teasing each other back and forth all day; first when they’d had breakfast at a roadside diner not too far away from the national park and later while they’d hiked hours and hours through the dense forest. It had felt so natural and effortless. Avery had long ceased to wonder why he felt more connected to a nineteen-year-old West Texan than he did to most of the people his own age that he interacted with in Boston.
Come to think of it, Avery had never truly felt an authentic connection with anyone after his sister had died. All the way through adolescence and his twenties, Avery had experienced this deep-rooted disconnect from his surroundings. In school, at home, with friends. And later at university. It wasn’t that he wasn’t social. Or that he didn’t enjoy being with other people his own age. No, he’d always been one whom his peers had sought out. A quiet boy, but still popular. Still, Avery had always felt that something was missing. At times, he’d been wondering if there was something wrong with him. That he lacked an important part within which inhibited him from bonding with others. From connecting on a deeper, more intimate level.
But then Avery recalled what it had been like when Mattie was still alive. Whenever people spoke about the abstract concept of soulmates or whenever Avery read about it, it was always this romanticized notion of someone out there made just for you. And after Mattie died, he’d stopped believing in it. His little sister had been his soulmate. His person. The one thing which made sense in his life and when she’d vanished from it, everything became blurry and pointless. Deprived of all color.
Drifting through his youth, Avery had chosen the obvious path. That which was expected of a son of an MIT professor and a scholar in French literature. A future in academia. Anything else had been unfathomable. Unacceptable. The son of two intellectual proteges, Avery’s path in life had been mapped out for him long before he was even born.
And then he’d met Ethan. Immediately Avery had felt drawn to him. The mere presence of the other man lighted Avery up from within. Or at least it felt that way. He couldn’t get enough of Ethan. He wanted to be close to him all the time. Even if he could merge his body with the younger man, he had a feeling that it still wouldn’t be enough.
The way Ethan had owned his body the other night in the motel. Like it was simply his to take and mold and use. It had been a revelation of sorts. The way he so naturally and uninhibited had submitted to Ethan’s touch. The way he’d sucked up every dirty word bursting from Ethan’s lips like they were the very essence he needed to survive. The way he’d yielded. It reminded him of the documentaries he used to watch as a child on National Geographic. The lioness instinctively succumbing to the forceful power of the much larger male lion.
And then tonight, Ethan had fucked him unapologetically like it was the sole purpose of his existence. Like Avery was a foreign country he needed to explore and inhabit. He couldn’t help but smile at the purple fingerprints that would surely cover both of his hips come morning. Ethan had held him in a steel grip while he’d slammed into Avery continuously, hissing filthy words into his ear.Is it big enough for you, my little cock slut? Is it, bitch? Is it hard enough for you? Or do I need to make you scream?
Avery had in fact screamed, come to think of it, and it was a good thing that Ethan had pushed his face into the cool flooring of their tent and muffled his cries. Otherwise, they would’ve woken up the entire camp site with their animalistic sounds of pleasure.
He loved when Ethan threw dirty slurs at him during the height of his ecstasy. To Avery there was nothing demeaning about being calledslutorbitch.No, he fucking inhaled those words like they were the air he needed to breathe. He owned them. They made him feel powerful because once those words started tumbling from Ethan’s lips, they were a sign that he was giving over his control to Avery.A fucking power bottom if there ever was one,Avery remembered the words of one of his past lovers. And it hadn’t been meant as a compliment. In fact, Avery didn’t recall ever having been seen and met like this in any of his previous sexual encounters and the irony that it was a nineteen-year-old who finally gave him exactly what he craved, blew his mind.
