There stands River, a vision in an unbuttoned shirt and an unbuckled belt. Hunter has to tear his eyes away from the peak of forbidden white fabric to find River’s smoldering brown eyes.
“W-what are you doing here?”
River steps into the room and closes the door behind him.
River takes two slow steps toward him. Hunter can’t hear anything over his own heartbeat. River’s pants shift and now a band of fabric is exposed. Hunter can’t pull his eyes away.
The older man’s hand drags up Hunter’s chest and Hunter’s stomach quivers at the sensation.
“River, what’s happening-“
He cuts Hunter off with a kiss and Hunter’s restraint crumbles. His hands grab at anything he can reach. River’s hair, shirt, ass. He pulls harder at his upper thighs and River’s jumps to wrap his legs around him. The new position puts more pressure on the most sensitive part of him and Hunter groans. River pulls even harder at his hair and Hunter stumbles to regain balance. The two of them approach a wall and he has to reach out to keep them upright.
But the wall feels too rough to be in his bedroom. Hunter opens his eyes, finding himself outside of his condo. Hunter turns around and stumbles into someone behind him. His limbs are suddenly so hard to control and a heavy taste of liquor coats his tongue. His vision is blurry, everything feels weird, but he feels like he’s talking?
River. He’s talking to River.
River doesn’t want him. River doesn’t like him at all. Why doesn’t River like him? Hunter’s dragging himself up using River’s body, reaching for the older man’s shoulders.
“You want me to leave you alone and I-” Hunter hiccups, cutting into his words. “I’m the jerk that won’t stop trying.”
His climb complete, Hunter finds himself looking down at River who refuses to meet his eyes. With his hands still holding River’s shoulders, he pulls River forward, who now looks at him with a startled stare. Then, River shakes his head, hair falling over conflicted eyes.
“No I . . . I do want you it’s just-”
Hunter kisses him. He kisses him because even conflicted, River’s eyes are the most beautiful they’ve ever looked. He kisses him because he’s too drunk to focus on anything but those damp lips.
And River kisses him back, their tongues tangling and breaths mingling and- God! Hunter has to piss. He pulls out of River’s arms, ignorant to the shorter man’s dazed expression and races into his condo. Within seconds, he’s stepping inside.
—————
Hunter gasped and sat up. His sheets were tangled uncomfortably around his body and the sunlight coming in through the window was making his skin feel sticky. It took Hunter a few moments to realize that he’d been dreaming. Or semi-dreaming. Because that second part felt too familiar, too detailed, for a dream. Why could Hunter remember the liquor on his tongue and the warmth of River’s mouth?
That’s when realization struck. The sun was never out when he woke up. He was late! Panicked, he tried to rush out his bed but got caught by those sheets. Hunter was still dragging the fabric behind him when he entered the bathroom.
But, as the day progressed, he couldn’t forget that damn dream. Josh didn’t work weekends so Hunter was alone for lunch, using every spare moment to recall that dream. It didn’t make sense. Their first kiss was outside of River’s apartment. Hunter was the sober one and River-
“Maybe I should return the favor.”
His fork dropped against the table with a clatter.
It was real. Hunter had kissed him first. And then, like an idiot, he’d forgotten.
—————
River and Hunter sat with just the bar counter dividing them, laughing leisurely at some dumb joke River had found on the internet.
Hunter had learned that River’s millennial spirit often appeared in the forms of memes. The older man exclusively shared those with text at the top and bottom of the image. Hunter started giving River his phone back but yanked his hand away halfway through the exchange.
He reached for his fork, shoving another bite of lunch into his mouth but River was already looking at him like he was crazy. He couldn’t understand why Hunter was acting so weird. The entire time that he’d been here, Hunter had been jittery and jumpy at the randomest moments.
What River didn’t know was that their hands had brushed when Hunter went to return the phone and the image of their forgotten kiss flashed through his mind. Or earlier, when a bartender had served straight vodka to a stray drunkard, Hunter recalled the heavy vodka film on his mouth that night. He couldn’t help how his face tightened and his eyes refused to meet River for a solid 5 minutes. There was just something unnerving about having been so vulnerable in front of River. Every day he tried to get closer to this man without scaring him away. Now, Hunter feared even some booze could ruin their precarious relationship.
While Hunter stewed over the implications of his restored memory, River stewed over his friend’s strange behavior. Usually, helping people meant changing some work hours or ordering better shot measurers. It could also mean cuddling a small child for half an hour while she sorted through her emotions. But this–whatever Hunter was doing–hadn’t been River’s responsibility for a long time. But that’s the strange thing about getting close to someone. You start taking their emotions on as your own. Caring about what they care about. Worrying about their worries. And, whatever Hunter was worrying about almost made him drop a very expensive Samsung.
“Um, do you want to talk about it?”
The simple question broke through Hunter’s stewing, and he met River’s unusually concerned gaze to shake his head.
“Not particularly.”
River’s barely thought through plan had already crashed and burned. He wrung a towel between his fingers in thought.
“Okay, well, are you busy this Sunday?”
This was said as a question, but River bulldozed through his next words too fast for Hunter to talk. He’d already planned the invitation in his head. He couldn’t handle Hunter interrupting it.
“I’ve been meaning to take Melodie to the park–father daughter bonding or whatever. Do you want to come?”
A warm invitation with little deflection. A new record. But the triumph River felt was short lasting when Hunter began to wince.
“Sorry, I work Sundays.”
“Oh.”
River blinked twice, his mouth settling into a stiff line.
“My bad for assuming.”
The signs of his disappointment were powerful yet fleeting. Soon, he’d squared his shoulders and was right back to work.
But Hunter and anyone else who worked here knew that the work was the giveaway. It had been weeks since River actually worked while Hunter was here. He usually preferred to slack off instead. Now, River wouldn’t look him in the eye, stoically wiping an already clean bar counter.
Hunter tried to imagine what his Sunday would look like. Hours of work in an empty office. A beautiful winter’s day sliping right by him without a trace. A Sunday like any other. That’s what he was saying no for?
“You know what?” Hunter spoke up, wearing a renewed smile. “I can make it work.”
He reached across the bar for River’s pocket, unflinching when he slid past bare skin, and pulled out River’s phone. Handing the device back to the older man earned Hunter a smile and the cold mask was gone.
“What’s the address?”
———————————
If you guys have read some of my other books, you know I love a good dream. I feel like we need more wet dreams in modern BLs, ngl
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