Like A Wolf
FINALE
Chapter
Twelve
"I
didn't say anything."
“I didn’t say
anything.” Robert stood in the middle of
Hank’s kitchen, cell phone to his ear. Two hours earlier, unable to focus on
work, his heart filled with hope and dreams once more, he’d left Bella to close
up the diner and stopped by an organic grocer’s on his way to Hank’s place.
“Which is a nice change
from saying too much, don’t you think?” Grandmere chided gently. Robbie could
picture her, sitting up in her arm chair, fine spun white silver hair rolled in
spongy pink curlers, thin shoulders draped in one of the lacy knit robes she
favored. In the background the television
mumbled gently, probably some game show or soap.
Robert shrugged. Where
the idea of surprising Hank with dinner had come from, he couldn’t really say,
just that it was rooted in Hank’s oft repeated insistence in the past that
Robert cook for him. “I don’t know, Grandmere. I just felt like… it was time to
seize the day. The time was right.”
“That’s excellent,
Robbie. How’s it going? What are you making?”
“Meatloaf, mac and
cheese, roasted vegetables… The food I love.” For the man I love.
He bent and peered
through the oven window. The casserole was bubbling at the edges, golden on
top. “Perfect.”
“Well, I’m not one to
offer unsolicited advice, but I can tell you from experience, regrets are by
far harder to live with. Embarrassment fades. Regret just gets stronger.”
Grandmere had always been able to see clearly and that was one reason that he’d
always sought her out in times of trouble.
“I think he really likes
me, Grandmere, but something… it’s like he remembers that he doesn’t want to
like someone… love someone.”
“Oh honey. The man can’t
commit to a standard menu at his restaurant, you can’t expect him to just fall
in love and accept eating a single meal for the rest of his life.”
“Ha!” Laughter barked.
Leave it to grandmere to cut to the heart of the matter. “I have to go,
grandmere. My biscuits are ready and I need to put the brownies in for dessert.
I love you.”
He rang off and set the
phone down on the marble counter. Headlights swept the front windows. He was
just in time.
The rattle of the front
door gave him a moment of pause… the last time he’d been here and heard that noise,
it had been Hank’s ex-lover who’d come through that door. “It’s all right.” He
told the casserole as he set it on the table in the breakfast nook, which has
struck him as a more intimate dining space that the glass topped table and
stark, uncomfortable looking chairs in the dining room.
“Yes, it is.” Hank
rumbled, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning forward to gust hot air
over Robbie’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. “I never expected you to
already be here. But I’m very glad to find you.”
“The key was… still under
the gnome.” His breath caught, senses stirring. “Welcome home.”
“I … do … like… the sound
… of that.” Hank punctuated each word with a caress, a kiss, the brush of his
lips over sensitive skin. “What do I smell?”
Robby whirled, covered
Hank’s eyes playfully with one hand. “ You should be able to tell…”
Hank sniffed
dramatically. “Cheese… sharp, onion...mmm.” He pushed Robbie’s hand away.
“That’s about all that’s making its way through the scent of brownies… God.
That alone is …”
Welcome home? Fucking
idiot. Like it was his place, as an invader… to welcome the homeowner? Could he
have said anything more stupid? Confidence draining quickly, Robbie ducked away
from Hank’s touch. “I’m sorry. That was presumptuous…”
“You can presume any time
you like with me.” Hank glanced over the table, smiling at the array of
food. “This looks terrific. Exactly what
I need after a night like this.”
Turning back to the oven,
Robbie floundered once more for the words he wanted to say. “You’re a commitment
phobe, huh?”
“Whoa. What brings that
up?”
He could feel the warmth
of Hank’s body behind him… lost the thread of thought, but kept the feeling.
Feeling… That’s what this was about. “Feelings. Grandmere said--”
A bark of laughter
escaped Hank, who backed away from him. “You discussed me with your
grandmother?”
“I discussed my feelings
with my grandmother, yes.”
“That’s just it…” Hank
bit his lip and looked at the floor for a long moment.
As he waited, Robbie’s excitement
dulled, and he twisted his hands nervously. “What?” He finally asked when it
seemed that Hank wasn’t going to continue.
“You can’t possibly know
how you feel. You aren’t old enough to know… to have your heart broken.”
Anger flashed to life,
and Robbie took a step forward. “I don’t know what heartbreak is? Why would you
say that? I have been heart-broken. The first time, I was four. I had a very
special toy- a stuffed bunny from one of those build it yourself toy stores.
Larry had blue jeans and a red and white striped shirt, and when you pressed
his chest he said “I love you”. My first heart break was when Larry got left
behind in a hotel room in Columbus, when my family was on vacation. I cried for
weeks. The second time, I was ten and I realized that the boy I liked was using
me to get close to my best friend Chrissy. When I was sixteen, Chrissy broke my
heart again, when I told her I was gay and she dropped me like yesterday’s
fish.”
He drew in a steadying
breath and dashed tears he hadn’t realized were falling off his cheeks. “The
last time was just a few weeks ago… When I woke up in your bed and you made it
clear that you had no use for me once we’d … Anyway. My heart has been broken.
But I am resilient, and determined, and …” Willing to humiliate myself for
another chance at proving to you that I am worth it.
Hank exploded into
motion, eyes flashing, hands waving expressively. “And we don’t even know each
other! You can’t love me. You don’t know me. I don’t know you…”
Robbie stilled, but
Hank’s actions… they shouted to him. “We don’t have to know each other. My soul
knows yours… recognized something in you that first night at your restaurant,
something that I would love to spend the next fifty years discovering.”
“I don’t know anything
important about you.”
Crowding in close, Robbie
leaned into Hank hard, “You know
everything important. Think about it. The food I cook- it tells you everything
you need to know.”
“Comfort food. The food
of love, and home and family.” Hank’s eyes shone. “You always make me the most
amazing versions of the foods we grew up loving.”
“And your food is like
the greatest adventure I’ve ever known. You are the greatest adventure.” He
stilled Hank’s protest with a finger on his lips. “No. I won’t say it tonight,
but we both know its there, and when you’re comfortable with it, we can put it
all into words. For now, I have brownies to get out of the oven and a meal to
get on the table.”
Hank kissed the tip of
his finger, then pulled his hand away. “Okay. You’re staying the night, right?”
“My bag is in your room.
You’re sure there won’t be any exes wandering in expecting shelter?” He
couldn’t resist teasing.
***
Their lips met and clung…
moist and warm, like the center of a pan of brownies, and Hank fancied he could
still taste the rich chocolate of Robbie’s dessert on his tongue. He could
think of a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this… and only one reason
why he should.
“I want you so badly.” He
murmured into Red’s mouth, that one over-riding reason that found him in bed
once more with a man he was finally beginning to believe… to hope… might be his
future. I want to love you. I want you to love me.
Red brushed a kiss along
his jaw, whispered along his skin in a delicate caress of breath and voice,
“Then have me.”
“Ahhh,” Hank groaned,
burying his face in the fragrant hollow of Red’s shoulder, sucking in a calming
breath while he shuddered. “Are you… sure?” They hadn’t last time, and he
didn’t want to force penetrative intercourse… God how clinical. “We don’t have
to, if you don’t like it.” But his cock was hard as brick, and leaking warm
sticky fluid as he ground helplessly against Red’s thigh. Just the thought of
burying himself in tight, hot flesh… he shuddered again.
“Like it?” Red’s soft
laughter tickled Hank’s temple. “I’ve been dreaming about it. I need to feel
you inside me. When I masturbate I imagine it… When I come, I crave it.”
“Fuck.” He reached down,
grabbed a handful of fleshy buttock and squeezed. “I want that too. Roll over…”
In seconds they were rearranged,
Red on his knees, peering back over his shoulder, blue eyes hot and avide as he
watched Hank pouring lube on his fingers. Hank reached forward, one slick
finger to trace the puckered skin of Red’s asshole. His mouth went dry as the
little hole constricted, nipping at the tip of his finger. He could imagine
that tight caress, squeezing his cock. Gritting his teeth, holding back his
desire to just plunge ahead and sink into Red, he rubbed the pucker with the
tip of his finger, massaging the muscle until it relaxed a bit, and the tip
slipped in.
Red constricted, the ring
of muscle hugging Hank’s finger tightly, the loosening. “Oh yes… Hank.” Red
sighed, wiggling. The action aided Hank’s movements, sinking his finger deeper.
Overpowered by the
demands of his body, Hank fought for control enough to not rush. Pushing his
finger in and out, then adding a second finger… He watched Red’s writhing,
listening to his moans, Hank’s heart swelled, the words he’d fought back --the
emotion he’d hidden from since meeting Red-- burst out. “I love you.”
In the aftermath of that
confession he ducked his head in close and watched his hands intently, heart
thumping wildly. Would Red answer in kind, even though he’d said downstairs
that he wouldn’t say it yet?
Had he even heard, over
the rush of blood and the thump of lust… or had Hank’s soul bearing gone
astray? He didn’t know which to hope for.
“Now… Now, please, Hank.”
Pausing, Hank withdrew
his fingers from their warm, moist, haven, and clutched at Red’s buttocks. The
voice in his head… the one who’d been ruling his actions since he and Red had
met, that asshole was trying to make himself be heard--- but two voices that
had long been silent, hushed by practicality and denial, drowned it out.
His heart and soul…
They didn’t care of Red
had heard him or not, they were relieved to have a voice at last. I love this
man. I love Red.
His fingers shook as he
ripped open a condom package and rolled the latex down his length. AS he
pressed his cock to the lubed, stretched opening, he knew it didn’t matter if
Red had heard his declaration or not. He’d say it again and again, until that
voice of self-preservation… the cowardly voice he’d been calling common sense
was silenced for good.
He sank forward,
pressing, leaning in hard until the ring of muscle gave and his cock glided
forward, ably abetted by Red’s wiggles and encouraged by his groans. Keeping
one hand on Red’s hip, he slid the other up his spine, curled it around his
shoulder.
Red fell down, pressing
his chest to the mattress, head turned on the pillow. The slightly different
angle let Hank slide in faster. He
groaned, feeling the delicious constriction, coming to a halt as his balls
slapped against Red’s.
“So hot and tight.” Hank grunted, forcing the words past a lump
in his throat. “So tight. Red, you're
amazing.”
Red whimpered. licking
his lips. His eyelids slid down to half-mast, one hand wiggled underneath, and
Hank knew he was reaching for his cock. He pulled out slowly, reveling in
sensation and emotion. After his failed
relationship with Hunter, he hadn’t expected to feel this intimate connection
again, to be honest, hadn’t wanted to feel it.
He rocked his hips, urging Red to move with him.
“Ahhh!”
Red gasped as Hank withdrew, catching his head on the tight rim before
pushing back in in a rush of movement.
“Again!” He moaned when Hank
pulled out again. “Harder.”
“Fuck.” Hank shifted, bracing his knees further
apart, seeking leverage.
“Ahhh!” Red moaned again, the sexy sound spurring
Hank on. He tightened his grip on Red's
hip and held him steady for a good pounding.
“Agh.” His breath caught,
his lungs burned. “Mmm.” Words were lost in a hum of pure sensation and emotion
as Red's tight ass squeezed him and made it nearly impossible to maintain any
semblance of control. Red’s breath came rapid and harsh… his body shook
strained, muscles tight and skin flushed.
Hank’s thighs burned, his
thrusts grew frantic, and erratic. He threw back his head, crying out. “Robbie!
Oh god, Robbie, it’s so…” His voice trailed into heavy breaths.
Red’s sweet, soft body
writhed deliciously, his fingers clutched desperately at the bedding.
“My Robbie… Mine.” Hank
whispered between pants, struggling not to come, to hold out until Red had
achieved his orgasm. Sweat and sex …
odors mingled in a cloying perfume… His nostrils flared, blood pounded. Hank’s
vision blurred, his head spun. His hips jerked, fire arced from cock to every
extremity, pulsing waves of unbearable bliss.
“Yours.” Robbie agreed,
eyes opening wide, shining with a luminescent joy that snapped
“Mine.” Leaning forward, he opened his mouth
on the soft skin of Red’s shoulder… freckled, sweet… oh so beautiful, and bit
down sharply.
“Oh, yeah!” Red spasming around Hank’s cock, drenching
the air with the scent of his semen as he came.
“Yes! Yes!” Hank
punctuated each exclamation with a thrust, loving the way Red constricted
around him, practically milking the seed from his cock. Having achieved Red’s
release, he let loose his control, and his whole being tingled, buzzing on the
edge of orgasm himself. His whole being had one purpose, to come… to ease the
need that rode him. Once… twice… thrice he bore the rapid the quivering spasms
until he froze… buried deep in the wet heat of Red’s body… and he shook with
the power of his orgasm. He flooded the condom in four bursts of cum, before
shrinking and slipping from Red’s ass to roll to his side.
His breath slowly
returned to normal, sweat drying on his skin. Hank reached out a hand palm up…
And Red took it. They lay in silence, soaking in the scent and a comfortable
lassitude of post sexual bliss.
“I love you, too.” Red
finally spoke, his voice steady and strong, no doubt lurking.
Hank smiled into the
gathering darkness and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. “Shh. Sleep.”
Chapter
Thirteen
He
hated surprises.
“Couldn’t say its been an
oasis of sunshine and flowers.” Hank admitted, slapping down a basket of
beautiful carrots on the counter top. He and Bree were unloading the fruits of a
mornign spent at the farmer’s market. “B--”
“Hank Wolf!” Bree cut him
off, eye flashing angrily as she dumped her own basket of carrots into the sink
and turned on the faucet, dousing them with water.
Hank turned inquiring
eyes on his sous chef. He couldn’t help smiling when he noticed the tell tale
stain of baby vomit on the shoulder of her chef’s coat. “What?”
“That guy loves you…” She
muttered under her breath then started shoving him, hard palms smacking him in
the chest with brutal strength.
“Ouch! Bree… stop that!”
He finally grabbed her hands in his and squeezed, forcing them down. “What are
you doing?”
“Me? I’m not doing a damn
thing. You’re the one who’s ruining the rest of your life. That’s it.” She
yanked her hands back and shook her head. “I’ll finish here. You get your ass
over to The Lunch Basket and apologize.”
“No.” He shook his head,
then left her standing by the sink with a basket of carrots. “There’s still
another eighteen crates out here to bring in and get cleaned up. I don’t have
time for a trip to The Lunch Basket today.”
“I’ll deal with the
produce.” Bree pushed past him in the doorway.
“You need to go talk to Robbie.”
“No, I don’t. Why do I? I
can talk to him tonight.”
Bree dropped a crate of
asparagus she’d just pulled off the truck bed and faced him, arms akimbo.
“Tonight will be too late. Ruby says… Manny Dyer called… He wants Robbie…”
A cold ball formed in the
pit of his stomach. “Bree… make sense. The man couldn’t talk about anything but
his kids while they were here for dinner. What would he want Robbie for? He’s
obviously happily paired off.” The ball exploded, sharp shards of ice pricking
his heart and soul. Manny Dyer… restaurateur. It was obvious what he wanted
wasn’t it? And it wasn’t Robbie… at least not physically. It was Robbie’s
concept. Classic comfort food with a delicious modern twist, as a restaurant
franchise it made a lot more sense than Hungry’s spontaneous concept did.
How did he feel about
that?
Hank considered
carefully. Was this icy feeling professional jealousy? Recognition of his
genius as a chef and an innovator would have been nice… but as Bree had said,
it wasn’t a concept for a restaurant that could grow. There was only one Hank
Wolf, and he couldn’t clone himself to create and cook in different cities… Nor
could he “train” someone to do things his way… So.. No. He’d always recognized
the limitations of his chosen venue. Hungry was his… and it wouldn’t ever be
more than this one location where he could prepare every item himself.
He realized Bree was
still speaking and shook off his thoughts.
“--called a few days ago
and said he was going to get in touch with Robbie about developing The Lunch
Basket into a franchise.”
“That’s great!” Hank
exclaimed involuntarily. Then his eyes narrowed. “Robbie never said anything
about this.” HIs overactive imagination started doing its thing. Maybe Robbie
hadn't said anything… because… Why? Because he was going to be moving to New
YOrk and leaving Hank behind? “This is ridiculous.” He grabbed another basket
of carrots, stacked it on top of a box of asparagus, and laboriously lugged the
two into the kitchen muttering under his breath. “paranoid.”
“So whatever fight you’ve
had with Robbie--”
Damn. Bree was still
talking… Hank slammed his burden onto the floor by the fridge and whirled.
“Fight with Robbie? I have not had a fight with Robbie!” He gritted his teeth
and continued grimly. “But we’re about to have a real knock down drag out if I
find out he’s ignoring this offer from Manny Dyer because of me.”
Bree stopped, eyes
widening. “You didn’t? But you said…”
“I said it hasn’t been an
oasis of sunshine. And it hasn’t. I still get a little panicky and self
protective… Red is at times a little too… understanding. ***But I’m not
running… and he’s not going to give up a chance at a chef-stardom because of
me.” He kicked the crates and ripped off his apron. Grinding his teeth, he strode
to the back door. Eleven more crates to unload. “Are you going to lend me a
hand here or just stand around talking?”
“I’m helping, I’m
helping!” Bree scurried past him, grabbed another box and headed back to the
kitchen. “Geeze… What’s the rush?”
“The rush...” He huffed,
a sharp pain blossoming in his back as he manhandled two more crates off the
truck. “Is that I need to get over to The Lunch Basket and talk to Red.”
“Boss…” Bree panted,
catching his hurry, “I hope you’re not going to go over there to pick a fight
with him because of what I said, because that’s not why I told you.”
“Oh I most definitely
am.” He continued working full speed to get all the produce out of the truck
bed, ignoring Bree’s increasingly frantic pleas as they turned to an angry
diatribe. When the last box was sitting on the restaurant floor, he put up a
hand, halting her tumbling speech. “I want the carrots cleaned up and roasted,
the asparagus blanched, and get Hans to scale the fish. I should be back in
plenty of time to pick things up from there.”
“I’m going to call him.”
Bree announced defiantly.
“If you do, you’re
fired.” Hank glared at her, “And then how’s Reuben going to go to college?”
“That’s low… so low.”
“Something you should
learn Bree. Don’t stick your nose in other people’s relationships. Unless you
want me talking to Ruby behind your back?” On that parting shot, he slammed the
back door to the kitchen behind him and jumped in the truck.
***
He hated surprises.
Robbie wiped his hands on his apron and stared at his lover. “What?”
“The offer from Manny
Dyer. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“What’s there to tell?”
He shook his head in confusion, met his assistant’s eyes over Hank’s shoulder
and jerked his head to the left, sending the man to the ovens to take out the
night’s casseroles. “He’s asked for a meeting when he comes to town next
month.”
“You don’t think that’s a
big deal?” Hanks lips were white, his brown crinkled. He probably gave off more
heat at this moment than the ovens were. “This is your future we’re talking
about. Manny Dyer is Midas. With his backing The Lunch Basket will be a
phenomenal success. Your concepts… your food will be in every strip mall in the
country.”
Scowling, Robbie glanced
around the kitchen. “Can we not discuss this in the kitchen? Come to my
office.” Without waiting to see if Hank followed, he strode to the door and
held it open. To his relief, Hank passed him, a little close, a lot
distracting.
Hank stalked to the far
end of the little space, and stood framed by the chalkboard Robbie used to
write out his staff assignments. “Well? How can you be so blase… so… This is
your future!” He growled, hands slashing at the air.
Patiently, Robbie closed
the door, though it was futile at this point to expect that no one would hear.
“It’s not that big a deal.” He decided that Hank needed reassurance, and so
crowded right p to his lover, bringing their bodies into close contact. “Let’s
start this conversation over, shall we?”
Robbie rose on his
tiptoes and brushed a kiss over Hank’s tight jaw, feeling it work beneath his
lips. He dragged his mouth over bristly stubble until his lips touched Hank’s,
then lingered, caressing softly. until some of the tension left Hank’s body and
he kissed back. His breath came easier, and the wariness he’d felt since Hank
stalked through the doors faded. “Hello my love. You’ll never guess what
happened after you left this morning.”
“Red!” Hank jerked his
head away, “Oh fine. Hello. What happened?”
“Manny Dyer called. He
liked the food he ate here so much, he’s invited me to meet with him and his
partner… Pat Bonucci … to consult on menu planning for a new fine dining
concept restaurant they’re opening in Chicago next year.”
“Menu consultation?”
Hank’s hands clutched at Robbie’s waist. “That’s all? The man is a complete
idiot. You should have absolutely nothing to do with him.”
Robbie chuckled softly.
His heart warmed at the way Hank’s anger turned to concern and protection.
Robbie kissed him again, leaned into the sturdy bulk. “I told him I’d be happy
to meet with them.” The excitement he felt had nothing to do with the
prospective meeting with culinary celebrities, or even having his recipes on a
fine dining menu. No. His feelings were all about Hank’s sudden change in
temper, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I love you too, you know.”
“Too? I didn’t say… Don’t
try to change the subject.”
“I’m not. I see through
this bluster, you know. I know you didn’t come running over here because you
thought Manny Dyer was offering me a golden future.”
“No?”
“No. You needed to hear
me say I loved you… That I wasn’t leaving you for the life of a celebrity chef.
It wouldn’t matter what Manny Dyer wanted… what he offered. Nothing compares to
the way I feel about you. You’re the gold at the end of my rainbow... “ He
uttered the corny words, knowing they’d make Hank laugh.
He was right.
Hank chuckled warmly, his
hands wandered, and Robbie stored away the moment as a memory to be treasured in
later years.
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