Quick to the Hunt

by Cameron Dane

  With his sweats bunched below his hips, Alex watched his hands working over his dick and nuts but knew he wanted nothing so much as to see Hunter Tennison straddling him and riding his cock like he needed the fucking or he would die. Alex was good at envisioning buildings that didn’t yet exist and incorporating them into a skyline that did. If he hadn’t been able to picture those homes on that land in Quinten, just from looking at the property survey for one of them on the Internet, he never would have experienced the impulse to fly to Montana and do the deal himself. He only had to employ that skill to bring Hunter to life.

  Alex let his eyes slide closed; Hunter’s rough, arresting face immediately appeared. More blood somehow flooded Alex’s cock in response, and he rocked his hips as he started stroking his shaft again. He could only envision Hunter fully clothed, and it struck Alex that he’d never seen the man even in just a T-shirt, let alone bare-chested. Conversely Hunter saw Alex nearly naked on most mornings. The shorts Alex wore during his runs were reminiscent of the shorts the old NBA players used to wear back in the eighties; anything longer clung and bunched against Alex’s legs when he sweat, something he found incredibly uncomfortable and distracting while running.

  Hunter is probably uncomfortable too. The thought hit Alex in the gut and stilled his hand at the base of his shaft. Alex rubbed his thumb back and forth over his upper thigh but mentally stepped back in time and touched the smooth leather covering the ridge where Hunter’s pinkie and ring finger used to be. Shit. That glove went up well past Hunter’s wrist. Even though a shirtsleeve covered it, the leather left enough of an impression that Alex had been able to tell it went halfway up his forearm. I bet he has burns and shrapnel damage from whatever caused him to lose his fingers. Alex figured the scars must go all the way up Hunter’s arm, if not into other areas on the left side of his frame. Probably not full body or he likely would have lost his whole hand, but enough that his clear desire for privacy -- and probably a hell of a lot of personal pride -- kept him from exposing the damage done to him by war.

  I’ll have to find a way to get him past his discomfort. At least with me. Alex sensed curiosity in Hunter whenever they were together. Maybe even flat-out attraction. But caution also lived in those eyes. Fear too. Alex didn’t know if Hunter was out and had been with men before or found himself struggling with feelings for another man for the first time, but something was definitely there. For the first time, though, Alex found himself fumbling. He didn’t know how to steer them to something sexual, or if he should, even though every time he got near Hunter, he imagined himself leaning in, taking his lips with an exploring kiss, and igniting hungry passion into those haunted, dark eyes.

  Fantasies of that kiss pushed Alex to wrap his fingers back around his cock and tug gently on the length, getting the blood flowing again. In Alex’s mind, Hunter stretched himself over Alex’s body and devoured him with strong lips, stealing Alex’s breath. Alex reminded himself of the solid muscles he’d felt beneath Hunter’s clothing. Even though he’d never seen Hunter nude, Alex mentally stripped those clothes away until only a big frame roped in hot, firm flesh grinded itself against him. As their bodies writhed together, Alex furiously worked his cock, desperate to touch as much of the big man on top of him as he could. He ran his other hand over his chest, throat, shoulders, and arms, trying to feel Hunter’s hands on him everywhere he touched. Alex’s prick pulsed hotter and harder than it ever had, and his testicles pulled so heavy with cum he didn’t dare touch them for fear of exploding on the spot.

  Fully entrenched in his desires, Alex whispered to Hunter, “Ride me.” Alex swore he could feel Hunter’s fingers digging into his chest as he complied and shifted upright to straddle Alex’s hips. Lust fueled Alex’s state of mind, and the lines between reality and his imagination blurred into one moment suspended in time. In Alex’s head, Hunter looked down at him through a nearly black gaze, poised with his pucker kissing Alex’s prick but denying him any penetration. Moaning, Alex tightened every muscle in his body to keep from knifing up and breeching Hunter’s hole himself. He was so hard his cock actually hurt, though, and there was something of an order in his guttural utterance of, “Give me your ass.”

  As the shimmery image of Hunter lowering himself onto Alex’s cock filled his mind, Alex squeezed both hands around his penis, starting at the tip. With every inch Hunter lowered himself onto Alex’s lap, he slowly took Alex’s shaft into his tight, hot passage, smothering the rigid pole. In reality Alex squeezed his length in time with Hunter’s descent, not stopping until Hunter had sucked Alex’s prick in all the way to the root. Oh fucking shit, yeah.

  Alex milked his dick, groaning as he imagined Hunter’s snug, moist chute rippling all around him with delicious spasms. Within seconds Hunter took complete control. He slid up and down Alex’s shaft with ever-increasing speed, and soon rode the hell out of Alex’s cock with no sign of slowing down. In his mind, Alex watched Hunter’s face pull tauter and tauter, becoming almost inhuman, as he slammed his ass down time and again, impaling himself on Alex with furious drives. Hunter curled his hands into fists and burrowed his knuckles into Alex’s chest, bracing himself for the punishing plowing he gave himself. Hunter didn’t make a sound, but he gritted his teeth every time he came down and filled his ass with Alex’s prick.

  In conjunction, Alex clamped a two-fisted, suffocating hold on his erection and tried to keep up with his and Hunter’s twin needs. Alex jerked himself so hard and fast he used up all the lubrication and couldn’t produce more fast enough to keep up with the pace of Hunter’s fucking. Groaning at the loss that came with letting go of his cock, Alex reluctantly did, spitting onto his palms and then diving right back in again. Oh goddamn motherfucking shit, yeah. Fire burned a sweltering line right through Alex the moment he got two hands back around his prick. Even with the new lubrication, Alex thought the friction might make his dick spontaneously combust. This had started out with the fantasy that he would fuck Hunter, yet what was happening was anything but. Alex might have his dick inside the man’s ass, sawing like a son of a bitch, but Hunter controlled every bit of this mating, no matter that this coupling was Alex’s by design. The deeper Hunter dug his fingers into Alex’s chest and the more aggressively he pounded his weight down on Alex, the faster Alex’s blood raced and the hotter his skin became.

  Whipping his hands up and down his spike-stiff dick, Alex pummeled his length with a pace that bordered on injuring himself. “Oh yeah, come on. Fuck me.” Looking up at the harsh lines mapping Hunter’s face, Alex started knifing up his hips to meet the man’s every downward thrust. “Fuck my cock.”

  As Hunter complied, the fucking became rougher and rougher, nearing violence. Suddenly Hunter staggered to a halt, his desire-filled, unblinking stare locked on Alex. Alex…Alex… The shocking, rusty cadence of Hunter’s tone worked a shudder right through Alex. A catch in his voice, Hunter whispered, I’m gonna come.

  Alex didn’t even get out the command do it. He surged up, squeezing the life out of his dick, his middle off the couch in an arcing bow. Jets of scorching cum hit Alex’s stomach and chest in continuous lines, making him moan low in his throat as he imagined it was Hunter coming all over him. Alex milked his shaft the whole way through. In his fantasy, he still had his cock buried deep inside Hunter, surrounded by the wonderful contractions. He imagined he spilled his seed within the tight confines of the man’s amazing ass.

  Seconds stretched into minutes where Alex didn’t open his eyes or move to clean himself. His breathing took its time returning to normal. As it did, Alex tried to maintain the sensation of Hunter on top of him, of feeling the man’s weight pressing into him, of both of them moving together like waves in a waterbed, content to lay entwined in silence just listening to the beats of each other’s hearts.

  The vision slipped away all too fast, and soon Alex opened his eyes to the sheen of ejaculate drying on his torso. Fatigue still held a firm grasp on his muscles, proof of how vigorously he’d physicall
y participated in his waking dream. Grabbing a glass of tepid water from the table, Alex dipped the edge of his sheet into the liquid to dampen it, and then proceeded to wipe away the evidence of his activities. He’d jerked himself off so aggressively there was a better than average chance he wouldn’t even want to hold his cock to take a piss for at least a day.

  The squeak of hardwood floors captured Alex’s attention. A moment later Mack wheeled himself into the living room. “For God’s sake, boy” -- he shot an impatient glance at Alex’s lap -- “put it back in your pants.”

  As Alex carefully adjusted his sweats back up to his waist, Mack pushed his wheelchair right up to the couch next to where Alex laid his head. Dark whiskers poked out from Mack’s unnaturally pale skin, but Alex focused on the sharpness still in the older man’s pale blue eyes.

  “And the next time you want to yank your wiener in my house, go into the bathroom and shut the door.” Mack backed up, making the turn around the narrow coffee table, but stopped at Alex’s feet and glared at him again. “I had to wait twenty damn minutes for you to finish before I could come get a snack.”

  “Twenty minutes?” Alex stacked his hands behind his head, grinning from ear to ear. “Damn, I had some stamina.”

  “Don’t be a wise-ass,” Mack said as he got himself moving again.

  “It’s better than being a dumb-ass,” Alex called out to the back of Mack’s salt-and-pepper head.

  As Mack wheeled into the kitchen, he paused for the barest second to give Alex the finger.

  Alex chuckled, but the second Mack was out of sight, the smile Alex wore fell to a quick death. Every time Alex saw Mack again, even after a small separation of sleeping, a crushing wave of love hit him harder than a speeding bus, only to be quickly followed by a phantom sickness that felt like it was eating away at his belly. The impending loss and Alex’s absolute inability to alter the outcome of Mack’s various ailments rushed too many memories of this man at Alex at once, fighting to stamp imprints in his soul so he would never forget them.

  One day in particular changed both their lives forever…

  * * *

  …On his tiptoes, young Alex leaned over the bathroom sink for a scrutinizing close-up of his reflection in the mirror. His teeth were clean, and he’d gotten the crusty sleep out of his eyes. He only had a few small zits on his jaw, but he’d already put some stuff on them to dry them out. Using some of his mom’s mousse, he tamped down a hunk of hair at the crown of his head that didn’t want to stay flat. He had to look good. He had a very important competition today. If he won Brain Blasters, it could change his life. His teacher had told him, “When you look your best, you’ll do your best.” Alex didn’t know anyone smarter than his teacher, who was also his school’s Brain Blasters coach, so Alex had taken his words to look his best to heart.

  After pressing down the rest of his newly shorn hair, Alex straightened his striped tie and his jacket collar, the coat only a little loose on his skinny frame. At least he wasn’t a pip-squeak, so the sleeves didn’t hang all the way over his hands like he was a kid playing dress-up. He’d bought what he could find at the thrift store and made do.

  Satisfied he looked like a winner, Alex exited the bathroom and traipsed to the kitchen, his thoughts already racing ahead to this afternoon. At the arch to the kitchen, Alex skidded to a halt, his heart plummeting. It’s just Mack. Again.

  A year later, it still stung Alex to know his mother had moved Mack into their home without ever asking Alex or even introducing them first. This guy who’d intruded into Alex’s world 377 days ago never said much, but he was always around, half the time while Alex’s mom was surely out flirting with other men. Alex had seen her do it a thousand times. He was thirteen years old now and the smartest kid in his class, maybe the whole school, so he understood his mother’s many weaknesses. Alex figured his mom tried but just wasn’t very good at being someone’s mother. She wasn’t very responsible, period. Alex thought moving Mack Ross into their home after having only known him for one day provided good evidence of this belief.

  Alex pretty much knew he wasn’t gonna like this Mack guy from the get-go. After all, there was hardly enough for him and his mom to get by every week, so they damn sure didn’t need another person splitting into thirds the food, water -- heck, the gosh darn air they breathed.

  But Mack had moved in anyway, despite Alex’s attempt to logically explain to his mother why it shouldn’t happen. Then, when it happened anyway, the dude didn’t even talk that much. Alex had once kept track and counted that Mack said thirty-five words to him in one whole week. Alex figured that was a typical week, so after a year spent together, Alex calculated Mack hadn’t even used 2000 words in twelve months. At least not with him. Alex didn’t hear many more murmurings going on between his mom and Mack either. Nope. The man wasn’t a talker.

  Mack had a job -- Alex didn’t know what it was because he never talked about it at home. He worked during the hours Alex went to school. Most of the rest of the time, Mack was at the house, always there. Late at night, when it was dark, Alex could quietly admit to himself it was kind of nice to have another person with him all the time. Before Mack, Alex had gotten used to being alone a lot.

  If only Mack didn’t intimidate Alex so much. It wasn’t the wheelchair that made Alex nervous, at least not entirely, or even that during the Gulf War Mack had lost both legs at the knees. Alex was more curious about that than scared. He wanted to ask questions about Mack’s military service and about how he had lost his legs, and even if he would let Alex touch where they’d been amputated to see how the scars felt. Alex had never met anyone who’d lost limbs before, and his natural tendency to ask a million questions popped around inside him like jumping beans needing freedom.

  But then Alex would look into Mack’s piercing, cold eyes. The man’s stare made Alex think he would snap the neck of anyone who challenged him, and the questions Alex wanted to ask would die on his lips. Mack might not have half his legs anymore, but what body he did still have was full of thick muscles. Alex didn’t doubt Mack had the skills, training, and ability to do some serious damage if he were so inclined. Alex didn’t want to get him mad and test his theory.

  Right then Mack’s rough voice pulled Alex out of his musings. “Breakfast isn’t coming to you.”

  Alex hated the flush that filled his face -- and the fact that Mack’s few words automatically got him moving.

  “Right.” After getting the milk out of the fridge and the cereal off the counter, Alex pulled out the chair next to Mack and slid a glance at the raven-haired man. “Morning,” he mumbled, chewing on his lip.

  Ice blue eyes met Alex’s over the brim of a mug. Hard lips barely moved as Mack said, “Morning,” in return. The man went back to his juice and the crossword puzzle that he did with a freaking pen.

  Yeah. Alex dropped his gaze to his breakfast, his joy suddenly stalled at the starting gate. That’s about right.

  Alex poured milk over his frosted flakes and went about eating in silence. Next to him, Mack kept his pen steadily moving, filling in letters in boxes and completely ignoring Alex.

  Nerves made Alex swallow down his food without really tasting the sugary sweetness coating his cornflakes. After slurping up the last of his milk from the bowl, which earned him a quick sideways glance from Mack, Alex took his bowl to the sink to rinse it out. As he got his lunch out of the fridge, he chanced another look at Mack, watching as the man wheeled his glass and plate to the sink. Alex knew better than to ask if Mack wanted help.

  By the time Alex had bagged his sandwich, chips, and banana, he and Mack found themselves side by side on their way out of the kitchen.

  “Where’s my mom?” Alex wondered.

  “Sleeping.” Mack practically grunted his answer.

  Alex didn’t feel stupid for asking. His mother could easily already be out grabbing a pack of cigarettes or buying lottery tickets this early in the morning. He hadn’t seen her last evening, so if she’d found a
new job, she might even have been working.

  “Okay.” After stuffing his lunch in his backpack, Alex tore his attention off Mack struggling to get his wheelchair over the lip between the front door and the porch. Mack didn’t like assistance, and Alex couldn’t bear to watch without feeling his legs fighting him to run and help.

  Alex jerked his thumb toward the hallway, backing away and saying, “I guess I’ll go talk to my mom. Bye.”

  Just before Alex disappeared down the short hall, Mack’s deep, low voice cut across the living room like a whip. “Alexander.”

  Alex’s spine immediately went straight and stiff. “Yes, sir?”

  On the porch now, Mack had his hands wrapped around the wheels of his chair, and his attention entirely on Alex. “How important is winning that quiz to you today?”

  What the heck? Alex hadn’t thought Mack ever even listened when he rambled to his mom about school stuff. The dude certainly never looked at him or asked questions. But he really looks like he wants to know about my competition right now.

  His heart suddenly beating kinda funny-like, Alex scuffed his shiny dress shoes against the floor and met Mack’s gaze. “If I can win against the kids in other schools in the district today, then I can go to the state championship round where I can win scholarship money if I beat everyone else.”

  “So it’s real important to you,” Mack said, his voice deep and low.

  Shuffling some more, Alex added chewing the inside of his cheek to his fidgeting. “Yeah.”

  With a sharp nod, Mack wheeled a bit closer to the open door. “When you’re competing to be the best,” Mack shared, his entire demeanor so very serious, “you have to think of your opponents as the enemy. Crushing all of them means you’re the last one standing. Those other kids can be your friends in real life, but when you’re competing against them and answering questions, you must remember their goals are not your goals. If getting help to go to college is the most important thing to you, then you can’t think about the dreams of your opponents or you will crack. One of them will then slip through the fissure, and you won’t get what is most important to you. This is a hard thing to hear at your age and something most adults won’t tell a kid, but it’s the truth. Focus on your goal and your goal only, and you will succeed.” Although ice still chipped Mack’s gaze, new sparks of fiery blue held Alex rapt. “Do you understand?”