Page 26 of Hurting Hunter
Tears formed in his eyes. He wanted to wipe them away, but his arms wouldn’t move.
A harsh sob escaped.
“Fuck. Hang in there, boy.”
Hands released the straps holding him and a hard hand cupped his face.
When he blinked open his eyelids, he stared into orbs the color of a winter sky but there was nothing cold in Ethan’s expression. “I have you.”
Ethan helped him to sit up and he leaned heavily on him, as someone wrapped a soft and warm blanket around his shoulders.
“Can you walk?”
“Where?”
“Just over there to the couch.”
“Sure.”
Using Ethan as a crutch, he stumbled on wobbly legs toward the brown leather sofa.
As they settled side by side, Ethan leaned into Hunter. The warmth of his body and his proximity offered a comfort Hunter didn’t know he needed.
"When I was seventeen, just after graduation, I came out to my family.” Ethan’s voice was low, and Hunter needed to strain his hearing.
“It didn’t go well. My father exploded, refused to share the table with a faggot. Told my mom and sisters to stay clear from me." As he recounted the painful memories, Ethan’s hand ran through his hair.
“That summer I stayed away from the house," he continued, his voice growing firmer. "Took every odd job I could find and saved as much of the money I earned. I was planning on going to the university. Instead, I signed up for the police academy." A bitter laugh escaped him. "By pushing me out of the family, my dad pushed me into following his footsteps. Until he died, he resented that I did and that I outshone him. He never made it past the lowest ranks, you know."
Hunter listened intently, his hand tightening on Ethan's arm. "I'm sorry your family reacted that badly," he murmured, his heart aching for Ethan’s lost ties. "Are you in contact with them now?"
Shaking his head slightly, Ethan’s gaze turned distant. "My mom died a couple of months after my dad. She just seemed to have given up," he admitted, the sadness palpable in his voice. "As for my sisters, three of them, all older... I talk to them, but we aren't close. They never really got over that summer."
Feeling a connection through their shared experiences of isolation, Hunter felt compelled to open up about his own struggles. "I haven’t come out to my brothers at the club," he confessed, his voice low. "And I never really had a family—my mom was a crack junkie, sold her body to pay for her habits."
Ethan’s hard, angular face softened, and he squeezed Hunter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Hunter. That’s a lot to carry alone.”
For a couple of moments, they just sat there as the activities in the dungeon around them continued.
Ethan sighed and turned to face Hunter fully. His protective instincts clearly visible on his face. "You talked about Michael in the context of high school, but you also said something about last Tuesday. What's that about?"
Hunter exhaled. "Actually, yeah," he began, deciding to share the burden. "I think there’s a leak. Information that only someone close could know is getting out, and it’s helping the traffickers stay one step ahead.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. "That’s rough. It’s like you’re being stabbed in the back all over again, isn’t it?”
"Yeah," Hunter agreed, the past and present betrayals blending into a sharp sting. "Just like back in high school."
Ethan’s hand remained firm on Hunter's shoulder. "We’ll figure this out," he said with conviction. " This time, you’re not alone."
Meeting Ethan's gaze, Hunter found a sliver of hope in the promise of partnership. While the path forward was uncertain, the solidarity in Ethan's words offered a guide through the shared darkness of their pasts and the murky waters of their current mess.
Chapter 18
After their deeply connecting wax play session, Ethan and Hunter retreated to Hunter's home. As Ethan stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the solidity and warmth it exuded. The place was expansive; its well-crafted architecture and tasteful decor spoke of Hunter's success and his yearning for a stable, secure environment. Rich hardwood floors spread underfoot, and the walls were adorned with art that suggested a thoughtful, settled life. The large, open kitchen hinted at family gatherings, while the plush furnishings in the living room invited relaxation and comfort.
Walking through the space, Ethan felt the tangible presence of Hunter's aspirations for a life far removed from the instability of his early years. This house was a sanctuary, showcasing Hunter's desire for a permanent sense of home and belonging. Every detail, from the neatly lined bookshelves to the framed photographs of landscapes, suggested a deep-seated need to create a life that was both fulfilling and grounded.
Ethan couldn't help but admire how Hunter had built a world so thoroughly a stark contrast to the transient nature of his childhood.
