by Rhys Everly
The only one I didn’t know about was his physical appearance. That I could only find out if I went on a date with him.
No one had ever ticked so many boxes before.
But it was pointless. The guy didn’t want to meet.
How hot would it be if we did? Would I be able to hold myself back from kissing him and asking him to marry me from the get-go? Would he be big and fit? Would I feel safe in his strong arms?
Before I knew it, my dick was hard, Sweet_Peaches was in the shower with me, and, since I had no idea what he looked like, he took the image of Hudson.
He was the closest thing to big, strong, and handsome I could think of.
The more I thought of Sweet_Peaches as Hudson, the more Hudson’s persona took over, pushing me against the wall, kissing my neck, trailing wet kisses down my back.
I touched my dick and allowed it to jolt in my hand. Hudson turned me around and pinned me with his mouth on mine. His cock—it had to be big, right? Big and thick—nudged at my stomach.
And then he was down on his knees sucking me. His tongue tasting every inch of skin.
My palm pounded harder as Hudson alternated between sucking me off, pinning me on the bathroom wall, and rubbing his cock between my butt cheeks, possessing my mouth with rough passion.
My cum shot out onto the tiles and trailed slowly down toward the drain, leaving me breathless and tired.
Gosh, how fucked up was my brain if I thought Hudson and Sweet_Peaches could ever be the same person.
As if that asshole could ever coexist in the same universe with sweet Sweet_Peaches.
“I think we know now whose spunk it is we find in the shower,” Martin muttered to Robin from the other room. Robin laughed.
Had I been loud? How the fuck did they hear me?
“And then he dares blame it on us.” His boyfriend chuckled.
“Shut up,” I muttered.
They weren’t wrong, though.
Twelve
Hudson
“Fucking… Hudson! Get up now.” I heard the shouting, and I jolted wide awake.
I looked over at Romeo’s bed, and he had the same confused look as I did.
I turned the bedside lamp on and looked at the time.
What the hell? Why was he waking me up at this time? I wasn’t working at the farm today, and he knew it. And I still had a couple hours before I had to be at work.
“Did you hear me boy? Get up now,” I heard Dad say again.
“I’m up,” I shouted back at him.
With slow, begrudged steps, I moved downstairs, Romeo on my tail.
When I got to the living room, I found a raging Dad. Business as usual.
“What?”
He snapped his head at me and raised his finger in the space between us.
“I warned you about doing something stupid,” he yelled.
I took a deep breath and let it out.
“What did I do now?”
Dad glared at me, nostrils flaring more than normal.
“Whatever it is,” he started, then shoved a piece of paper on my chest, “you better fix it.”
I took hold of the piece of paper and turned it the right way up.
“Boycott Bell Farms. Stop supporting a lying criminal. Remember who burned down the Cedarwood High gym,” it read under the picture of the burning gym side by side to our farm logo.
“Fucking bitch,” I muttered.
“I should have known sending you for rounds would come and bite me in the ass one day. You had to go and screw it all up, didn’t you?” Dad shouted from the fireplace.
I opened my mouth to tell him I’d done nothing wrong but found myself short of words.
I knew talking to Felicity would come to no good. But I never expected her to go to this length.
Then again, of course she had.
Why now, though? Why not three and a half years ago when the fire actually happened?
What got her so angered at my alleged arson now that hadn’t set her off all that time ago?
It must have been the fact that Holly Barnes chose my side. A Carlson never accepts defeat. They’d been running this town for generations. Having Torres as mayor must have devastated them.
“You better get started at the farm boy. I need to go and sort this mess out,” he said, and it brought me out of my stupor.
“I can’t, Dad. I’m working in New Harlow today,” I said.
“You’re working here,” he said while walking over to the kitchen.
I followed him. He opened the fridge and took a bottle of beer out, popping it open.
“Don’t you think it’s too early to—” I started, but he snapped off.
“Shut up, boy. I need to calm my nerves. I need all the liquid I can take before I go and beg for people’s business. Look where you brought us with your stunts.”
He walked past me, picking up his car keys, and chugging the rest of the beer in the process.
“Dad, I’ve told you a million times. I didn’t set that fire—”
“I’m going,” he said.
“I can’t go to the farm. I can’t miss work, Dad. I’m sure your employees will manage just fine without me,” I tried to say before he disappeared.
He turned on the spot and stomped toward me in two big steps.
“You listen to me, boy. I’ve allowed you to go out and do whatever the fuck you want in Sin City, but this right here”—he pointed to the floor—“is your future. Your future is not in that blasphemous New Harlow.
“Don’t you understand what’s going on? That bitch Carlson wants to bankrupt us. Our future is at stake. So enough with that Harlow job and that stupid diploma. Your place is here. On this farm. This farm that will be yours one day. So shut your mouth and get to work,” he said.
He walked away, leaving me all alone in the house with Romeo to stare at the empty walls, at the empty house, wondering how the fuck I escaped my future.
When I looked at Romeo, I sighed and rolled my eyes as he stared back at me while taking a shit in the doorway.
“I can’t blame you, buddy. This place is a shithole.”
I was tempted, so tempted, to go to work anyway, defy Dad and do what was right, but what would the consequences be when he found out?
Instead, I ended up calling work and putting on a sick voice. George, the store manager, asked me to let him know if I’d be able to work tomorrow and told me to feel better soon, a surprisingly casual response from a manager. Thank God Natalie wasn’t the store manager. I could hear her response in my head if she were in charge.
“Oh God! Of course you’re sick. Could my life get any better? Well, better short staffed than working with you, I suppose,” she’d say.
And I’d have told her to fuck off, most likely.
Next thing I had to do was tell Nathan.
“No. No excuses,” came his response in my text messages. “You promised me you’d take this seriously.”
“I am,” I replied.
“So you’re coming,” he sent back almost immediately.
“I can’t. My dad will kill me.”
“He’ll have to get in line. I said no excuses,” he replied.
“Fine. No excuses. Think you can meet me here? At the farm? I’ve had to cancel work to do work on the farm. It’s a long story. I can explain when you get here.”
“I don’t have a car,” he messaged after a moment.
“I’ll pay for your bus fare,” I typed back, hoping he didn’t ask me to pay for a cab instead. Not that I could imagine Nathan doing such a thing.
He might hate me, but he was a good man. Or else he wouldn’t have agreed to tutor me.
Or he’d have accepted my cancelling our meeting today.
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises,” followed immediately after.
“Thank you,” I sent back and touched the screen to my chest, hugging my phone since I couldn’t hug or thank him in person for not giving up on me.
With those responsib
ilities sorted, I went about my day on the farm, taking Romeo with me, and it actually turned out to be better than I’d have thought, considering how the day started.
Romeo wasn’t allowed in the fruit and vegetable patches, and I was finding that while work with Dad was laborious and taxing, work without him was… almost fun.
Almost.
It still wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life, as much as Dad tried to deny it.
Not that I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
I’d never thought that far ahead. I’d only gotten as far as getting out of this town, out of this state, even, and starting a new life somewhere else.
When I finally got back, I was so exhausted I collapsed on the couch and didn’t wake up until Dad came home.
“Get up you lazy mug,” Dad said, kicking the side of the couch, making me jump.
I looked around in confusion, trying to wake myself up and process what was happening. I hated it when I got so tired I was disoriented after a nap.
“What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“Time to get your ass up and do some work. Have you done the invoices?” Dad shouted, and I had to shield my ears.
I searched for my phone and found out it was two in the afternoon and there was a message waiting for me.
“I should be there at 4,” Nathan’s message said.
“Dad, I’ve been working since six. I can do the invoices tomorrow after work,” I said.
“I said get up. I’ve been busting my ass all day to get back our regulars, and you have the nerve to complain?”
“Is that why you stink of booze?”
Dad gave me an evil glare.
“I said get back to work,” he surprised me by saying. I’d have expected him to throw a fit about it. Instead, he twirled his car keys around his finger. “I’m going out. They better be done when I’m back.”
With that, he left again without another word.
It always worried me when he went out driving in that state. Even if I didn’t care much about him, I didn’t want anyone else to have to pay for his idiocy.
So as usual, I did a little prayer to keep him safe on the road and got off the couch. I had work to do and to prepare my room for Nathan.
Thirteen
Nathan
I dropped Maya off on Main Street to visit Aunt Melody and Dad and drove away in her car toward Hudson’s house.
It might have been years since I’d been there, but I still knew the way as if by instinct.
Same muddy road. Same tall crops. Same dilapidated house.
I parked the car and got out to knock on the door, memories of Hudson and I running through the fields with pockets full of apples and mouths full of strawberries, racing to his room.
Oh, Hudson. Why did you have to turn into an asshole? I wondered for the hundredth time already that day.
Since jerking off to his image in the shower last week, the question had become more prevalent, my mind going through our first meeting at the library over and over again.
Had he come out to me? I hadn’t seen proof of that since, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
If he was gay, too, what could have become of us if he hadn’t turned on me?
Why had he turned on me if he was gay?
What had changed since high school?
As soon as my fist touched the wooden door, a bark boomed behind it, followed by scratching, huffing, and puffing.
Hudson opened the door, but before I could even get a good look at him, I was attacked by a brown ball of joy licking my fingers and its paws patting my thighs.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed trying to calm the dog in front of me by petting its head.
“Romeo, stop. Down,” Hudson said, but little Romeo didn’t listen. “I’m sorry. He’s a puppy.”
I laughed and looked up at him while scratching the side of Romeo’s head.
God, he looked so gorgeous in his loungewear. The loose sweater with the deep V-neck that gave free viewing access to the carved chest underneath. The grey jogging pants that hung low enough to show some of his blonde pubes when he lifted his arms.
Fuck.
Stop fantasizing about him. Again.
I couldn’t stop, though.
“That’s fine. I love dogs.” My voice croaked when I spoke again.
Too much drooling tended to do that.
“Come on in,” he said and turned.
And my sinful thoughts ensued. The jogging pants hugged his tight, firm ass so perfectly I wanted to dip and jiggle my face between those cheeks.
What was wrong with me?
I’d always valued brains over looks. What the hell was Hudson doing to me to make me so… horny.
Yup. That’s what I was. My dick was hard, and I had the urge to whip it out and take care of it in front of him.
But that wasn’t what normal human beings did. Normal people didn’t get naked out of the blue and jerk off in front of others.
Even if said others were also gay.
If Hudson was, it didn’t mean I was his type, anyway.
And would I really want to go there?
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” he asked and turned to look at me.
I lifted my gaze as soon as I realized he was addressing me and shook my head, wiping my drool when he turned his back to me again.
I looked over into the living room. It was like time had stood still in there.
Since Hudson’s mom walked away from this house, the place looked like a pig sty.
It wasn’t dirty necessarily. It just looked dirty. The drab, dark colors decorating the room, the old faded carpet, the dining table littered with papers—probably farm related invoices—the empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter.
It was a normal house, I guess.
But it looked abandoned and unloved. I’d always thought that. Which was why I always preferred spending time in Hudson’s room or out on the farm.
“I’ve set up upstairs. I don’t know how long Dad will be out...” he said and stood at the first step.
“That’s fine,” I managed to say, and we climbed the stairs in slow, painful steps.
His butt was popping in and out of my view. My dick was painfully hard, and I desperately tried to think of something, anything, to tame it.
When we reached the attic, Romeo ran circles around me, bringing me his ball, his toy, a towel, trying to get me to play.
The sweet puppy eyes, begging to be played with, were impossible to say no to. So I gave him some attention while Hudson got us some water and used the bathroom, but when we sat down to do some work, he started yapping.
“Romeo, shut up,” Hudson said.
Romeo didn’t listen.
Instead, he approached us, came to my side, climbed my leg, and started humping it.
Jeez, even the dog could smell my horniness. Not embarrassing at all.
“Oh my—” Hudson exclaimed and got up from his chair. “Down. Stop it. Get off him.”
He tried to pull him away from my leg, but Romeo snarled at him, then turned back to taking care of my leg, his tongue sagging. From the exertion, I supposed.
“I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this,” he said. “Romeo, stop.”
I chuckled and got off the chair, too. I raised my finger in the air, piercing the dog with my gaze, and said sharply, “Romeo. Down. Now.”
The dog closed his mouth and dismounted my leg, putting his butt on the floor and looking at me expectantly.
I didn’t take my eyes off him.
“Romeo. Go to your bed,” I said, and with a whine he walked away, plonking himself on a blue bed on the other side of the room.
Hudson’s stare burned the side of my face, and I finally found the courage to look at him. My erection had thankfully gone down.
“How the hell did you do that,” he asked when I offered him a smile.
I shrugged.
“You gotta be firm, I guess. And call their name before
each command,” I said. “Can we start now?”
Hudson nodded and rushed back to his chair next to mine. Once I sat back down, my erection returned. His body mass and heat next to mine—too close to mine, if you asked me—caused my own body temperature to go through the roof.
Thank God for the table hiding my disgraceful boner.
I put both hands on top of the table, noticing the peaches in the fruit bowl for the first time, and handed Hudson his study material for the day.
I let him go through it while I checked an essay he wrote to practice his use of English.
The whole time, I had to force my mind to focus on the words on the page and not on his slow breathing or the subtle body odor emanating from him that made me wild for him.
I finished reading it and waited for him to finish reviewing the theorems I wanted to go through with him today.
The peaches on the table mocked me. As if they knew what I’d been doing in the shower and told me I should be ashamed.
I’d spoken to Sweet_Peaches since then, apologized for ghosting him that evening, and we’d gone back to our usual banter.
But I felt guilty for giving his gentle soul the appearance of Hudson, merging the two in one so they could fuck me, or me fuck them, or suck me off.
I couldn’t help myself. My mind would go wild with fantasies, and I’d come in seconds just picturing Hudson’s firm hands pulling at my hair while fucking me.
Other times, I’d imagine Sweet_Peaches—as Hudson again—sitting on the other side of my bed, messaging me sweet nothings while his feet massaged my cock, my stomach, and my chest. Then I’d crawl up to his crotch and suck him, and we’d both come together.
I must have jerked off at least twelve times in the last four days to so many different scenarios, I could have directed a five-hour-long porn film with my dirty mind.
But my favorite fantasy, my go-to just before I came, was Hudson on his knees, worshipping my cock and begging MrRomantic to come for him.
I looked from the peaches to Hudson and watched his eyes racing across the paper, the tip of his nose, tilted slightly upwards, catching a spot of the fading sun.
I’d have loved nothing more than to forget everything that had happened between us, reach down and peck his cute nose, kiss the eyelids over those beautiful eyes, and explore his body.