Page 47 of Sunrises & Salvation

ADAM

I never said I was a good man.

When Cheryl let it slip last night at dinner that a certain man named Matt was back in town, I watched Hunter’s face grow pale as I shoved a fat slice of meat lover’s pizza into my mouth. Even the greasy, cheesy goodness couldn’t distract me away from him.

“Wh-what?” he stammered. Hunter doesn’t stammer; he always articulates his words. Even if sometimes he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll find a way to put them into existence. This was different, though, watching the panic flood his face.

“Who’s Matt?” I asked, wondering what the fuck was going on.

Hunter brushed me off, and it hurt, I’m not going to lie.

He was keeping something from me, even if it was something he didn’t want to talk about.

I thought we had moved past this. But when Cheryl was silenced by Hunter as well, I realized it was something way bigger than just him.

And I refused to be left in the dark about anything that concerns him.

Hunter was silent on the drive back to his house, even playing his favorite songs through the stereo wouldn’t jerk him out of the funk he was in.

So instead, I took it upon myself to do a little internet sleuthing to figure out exactly what was going on with Matt.

A simple search brought up a high school superstar turned criminal. Assault. Assault. Assault. One charge after another. But no other legal documents mention jail time or time served.

For fuck’s sake, does this guy have anything better to do than get in petty fights?

I scroll through the different links, reading the random headlines, until a YouTube link pops up. I’m just nosy enough to click on it.

The grainy video, thanks in part to the time and the cheap camera quality, is at least ten years old. The video starts by showing the back of a taller blond guy, towering over a body curled in the fetal position on the floor.

When his head turns toward the camera, I see red.

Hunter lying on the ground, his top lip busted open and blood trickling down it and covering his teeth in red. His eyes squeezed shut in pain. Everyone just stood around, watching it happen and recording. No one did anything to stop it.

And that’s fine, Matt can think he’s a big man on campus, but that changes. Now.

That’s how I ended up at 172 Woodward Ave., tucked peacefully in a row of houses in a quiet neighborhood.

Matt’s parents have owned this house since the early 2000s.

The same two people who have constantly defended their son, bailed him out, and used their influence on the community to help him escape facing the consequences of his actions.

Giving him a cushy life that he doesn’t deserve. And I’m here to change that.

The baked ziti that Hunter pulls out of the oven smells delicious, fresh garlic filling the air with its aroma and making my mouth water. Hunter is an amazing cook, and when he asked me to come over for dinner, I couldn’t say no. Can you blame me?

I set the table while he grabs a bottle of wine out of the fridge, the fancy name too long for me to remember. Cheryl told me it’s his favorite, so I made sure to stock up on it before I came over here.

“Did you drink when you were with Trent?” I ask curiously, and the question probably comes across as rude, but I just want to know. Mostly to make sure that Hunter wasn’t limiting himself on stuff he liked just because he was with Trent.

“Yes, I had a glass or two of wine with dinner. Why?”

“No reason,” I answer hurriedly.

Hunter huffs in irritation and comes over to stand beside me, my gaze is still pinned on the fine china I have set out for us to eat on.

“Trent always told me he didn’t mind, just because he was sober didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it.

” Now I feel like an asshole, because Trent has always said the same thing to me, and I don’t drink often, but after he confided in me that he was getting sober, I took it upon myself to cut back on drinking.

Especially when we would go out to dinner.

Instead of a sealed bottle of beer, I would order a sealed bottle of water.

I was used to making weird requests, and Trent didn’t seem to mind.

“Have you talked to him?” Hunter asks, with no edge to his tone.

“Some.” I shrug my shoulders, and he steps closer and wraps his arm around my back.

“Some?” His eyebrow quirks up, and my lips tilt into the barest hint of a smile.

“He’s been busy, you know that. With Kian and everything.” Hunter nods sympathetically,

“You need to talk to him. He’s your best friend.” I snort, the sound loud and obnoxious.

“I’m serious, Adam. He always talked about your friendship…” When he trails off, I realize what the real problem is. He doesn’t want to cause issues between me and Trent. Damn him and his big heart and wanting to fix problems that aren’t his to try and fix.

“I’ll talk to him, Collins. I promise.” I kiss the crown of his head, inhaling his coconut and honey shampoo.

He tips his head up, his brown eyes sparkling.

My hand moves of its own accord, cupping the back of his head and rubbing the pad of my thumb across his pulse point, the blood thundering just under the thin skin pounding against my finger.

His dark brown eyes, bold with contentment, stare deep inside me.

He’s breathtaking, and I watch him, taking him fully in.

The person who owns my heart and my soul.

I want to kiss him. I yearn to lean down and press my lips against his, swallowing the quiet sounds he makes and owning them for myself. But I won’t, not until he shows me that he’s ready. I promised him I would do everything in my power to protect his heart, and I’m going to.

I grasp his upper arms in my hands and detach myself from him, clearing my throat. “I’m starving.” He chuckles and brings the rest of the food over to set on the table.

“Let’s eat, then.”

Hunter tells me about his day at the bookstore. There’s always a new story about customers being great, or not so great, but either way, he’s always so excited to tell me about it. And I love listening to it.

I sent him a picture of the sunrise this morning on my way into the office, showing him my view and wishing he were here to witness it with me.

It used to be our thing, and maybe it can be again.

We can still enjoy the same things we used to.

The story game on road trips, walking trails, especially if there’s water involved.

I have ventured into reading more books that he stocks at his store, so our conversations are never dull.

“So, the Matt thing.” Hunter says the name Matt like it’s a rare, highly contagious, and deadly disease.

I reach my hand out to set it on top of his, enjoying the warmth of his skin against mine.

He flips his over and entwines our fingers, and I smile widely at him, even though he’s too busy looking down at the empty wine glass in front of him.

“Would you like another drink before you tell me?” He nods his head, and I push back my chair and grab the bottle to pour him another glass.

Setting it in front of him, I stand behind him, massaging his shoulders to help him relax while he takes small sips.

When his shoulders finally loosen enough to rest in a natural position, I sit back down in my chair.

“He used to torment me in high school, badly. To the point I was scared to go to school.” I’m glad I took care of this issue earlier, because if I had to sit here and listen to it, I know the pain I would have inflicted on Matt would have been worse.

Just watching Hunter’s face while he recalls the pain he went through has me reaching out for him.

He stands up from his seat and comes over to mine, sitting in my lap with our chests pressed together.

“His go-to insult was always weird; it wasn’t super effective at first. And that’s when the beatings started, randomly at first, so I was always on edge when the next one would come.

” He drags in a shaky breath, and I soothe my hands up and down his back.

“But then it got worse, and worse. His parents didn’t care, the teachers didn’t care. No one cared.”

His voice breaks, and I feel my own eyes well up in empathy with his pain, knowing what he went through, and knowing that what I did inadvertently hurt him and took him back to those times.

I’ve apologized, and nothing I say can take it back.

But I will make sure to show him how much I want to take care of him.

I want to build an altar dedicated to him, and put offerings on it all day every day to show him how treasured he is.

“I’m sorry,” he says, attempting to dislodge his arms from me to wipe the tears from his eyes. I stop him, wiping the tears with my fingers, watching the glistening drops cover the tips.

Hunter watches with his eyes wide as I pop the digits into my mouth, sucking his tears off. His eyes darken in lust and his hips roll on mine, not hard enough to press our dicks together, but enough that my dick takes interest and lengthens in my pants underneath him.

He’s testing my control right now.

The heat of his body is pressed up against mine, lighting me on fire with every inhale.

The scar on his upper lip calls to me like a church calling to a sinner, begging me to fall for its words and change my ways.

And I would, over and over again, to be in this position with him.

I’m a sinner, no matter which way the world turns.

But Hunter is my salvation. He’s the reason I can continue living my life.

“Adam,” his husky voice whispers into my ear. His plump lips rub against the sensitive skin and my dick lengthens in my pants, begging to be closer to him.

I grab the front of his neck and push him back enough to look me in the eyes.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing underneath my palm.

“Let me kiss you, please.” My voice is rough, but I’m helpless to do anything but wait for him to tell me yes.

He doesn’t say anything, still looking at me with those fuck me dark eyes.

“Say yes. Please fucking say yes and let me kiss you. Let me show you how much I belong to you. Only you.”

My heart races while I wait for him to do something, say anything. He’s frozen in place with his mouth slightly agape, the hint of his pink tongue peeking out while he traces his teeth.

He crushes his lips to mine and I groan into his mouth, while he greedily devours me from the inside.

Our teeth clash together, but my need for him overshadows anything else.

I massage the side of his neck, gently stroking the smooth skin while we take more and more from the other.

Our hips are rocking together wildly with no finesse, and the only thing floating through my mind is insatiable hunger for him.

Hunter wrenches my hand off his neck, pulling back enough that I can look into his wide brown eyes, his pupils dilated with lust. He keeps my hand tightly clasped in his and trails it down his chest. My breath catches in my chest, feeling the sharp bead of his nipple underneath his shirt.

“Take this off,” I groan as he uses me to tease himself. I want to feel him against me with nothing between us. He unbuttons his pants with one hand and shoves our hands down the front of his boxer briefs. My palm connects with his heated flesh, the swollen head of his cock sticky with precum.

“I need you to touch me,” he pleads, yanking his shirt over his head so I can see half of his body. The lean muscles of his abdomen flex with the movement, and my tongue is heavy in my mouth as I swallow stupidly.

I play with his dick, keeping my grip light so I can feel every bump and ridge of his hard length, languidly tracing the thick vein that runs on the underside of it, feeling the blood pulsing hard.

His warm breath puffs against my lips, his moans low and needy and so fucking hot while I smear the precum over the head of his swollen cock.

Hunter groans low, and I speed up my ministrations, jacking him in earnest, trying to reward myself with more of his words.

“You’re so good, so, so good, Adam.”

“Oh, fuck.” Precum flows out of my tip, not expecting words to come from his mouth. And a part of me preens under his attention, because I want to be good for him. I want him to know how good I can be.

I focus on the movements that make him more feral, the words of praise spewing out of him faster the closer he gets to the edge of his climax.

“I love the way you touch my cock. I’m going to come so hard for you, love,” he moans.

Need builds in me, rocketing through my system and out of my tip while Hunter moans low and long into my ear when he comes into my hand.

His sticky release coats my fingers, and mine covers the inside of my briefs.

His chest heaves with every inhale, his dick rapidly softening in my grasp while we both come down.

He looks fucking wrecked. His lips swollen, puffy and pink after the vicious make out and humping session we just finished. My dick gives a pathetic thump in my pants when he licks his lips, not able to get hard again so fast.

“Let me help you,” he murmurs, reaching for my dick, and I shake my head. His lips downturn and his eyebrows crease.

“I-um.” I clear my throat, refusing to be embarrassed. How can I be embarrassed that I came in my pants when I have Hunter sitting in my lap like this?

Hunter’s gaze drops down to my jeans, the wet spot on my jeans spreading rapidly. He attempts to smother the smile that is breaking out across his face, but it’s no use.

“It’s a compliment,” he says, leaning forward and pressing his lips gently against mine. I breathe in his coconut and honey scent, letting it ground me. I’m at home in his arms.