Page 51 of Nocturne
Hunter doesn’t answer right away. He stays still, staring at the city like he’s waiting for it to say something.
"You disappeared," he finally lets out, his voice rough, tight. "After that, you just vanished. Like I was the problem."
I let out a dry laugh, barely any humor in it. "And isn’t that the truth?"
He turns his face a little, trying to meet my eyes, but I keep staring at the horizon. Don’t want to look at him. Not now.
"You think running away fixes things, Damon?"
"No. But it helps me keep what’s left of me whole. And keeps me away from you." I say it before thinking. And I hate how true it sounds.
He shakes his head slowly. "I just wanted us to talk about it."
"Talking doesn’t change shit, Hunter." I turn to face him. "You kissed me. I never asked for it."
"Neither did I," he snaps back, steady. "But it happened. And pretending it didn’t isn’t gonna erase it."
For a second, I almost falter. Almost. But I force myself to keep my gaze ice-cold.
“You think I ran ’cause I’m scared? I ran because if I stayed… I’d want more. And wanting you is the kind of mistake that could kill me.”
The silence between us turns into a minefield.
He takes a step toward me, slow.
"What if I said I’m willing to die trying? You knew, the day you looked me in the eyes, this was gonna happen sooner or later. Don’t fuckin’ lie.” His voice is low and rough, almost like it’s hurting to say it. “Damon, my obsession with you ain’t something I can explain, it’s real.”
My heart skips a beat. Then I walk to him and kiss him with everything I’ve got — voracious, hard, urgent. He gives in and kisses me back, his tongue dancing with mine as Boston watches us.
I can’t hold back. The heat, the need to have him, to feel him—it screams louder than reason. I run my hands over his body, feeling every muscle, every part of Hunter. He moans and grabs my waist. I feel his hand on my neck, and our kiss gets more urgent, hotter.
"What do you want?" I ask, breathless.
"Right now, I just want you," he says between kisses.
He takes off his jacket and throws it on the ledge. Then he rips off his white T-shirt fast. I watch with burning desire, hungry eyes. His body looks sculpted by hand—every muscle begging to be touched. His abs tighten perfectly, every ridge defined. His chest is firm. And his arms… big, strong, like a real man.
He stares at me. His gaze pierces my soul. I do the same. I take off my jacket and shirt. Two sculpted bodies pressed tight together.
My look at him is loaded with lust, and the moans we release only turn me on more. As we keep kissing, I start to rub my hard cock against his, rock solid, and he moans louder.
"You’re making me want to come… is that what you wanted, Hunter?"
"I always wanted this, Damon…"
I pull off my pants and he follows. We’re both in our underwear, hard cocks pressing against each other. He looks at my erection with a fierce, possessive stare.
"You want it, don’t you?" I ask, squeezing my cock over my boxers.
He nods.
I pull down my boxers and my cock jumps free—veins bulging, pink head. Hunter’s look gets even more wicked. He licks his lips and looks into my eyes.
"Come here," I order.
He kneels quickly and takes my cock into his mouth eagerly. I let out a moan of pleasure.
"Fuck… Hunter…"
