Wrecked (27 page)

When I woke up again, night
had fallen, and Hunter was snoring gently. We had fed the kittens, snacked on
some powerbars for dinner and came back to the bed to nap. The bed was fast
becoming a home within a home.

I watched
him sleep peacefully. I was amused at the irony of him calling me Snorrie when
he snored as well. It felt so surreal being with him now, in this moment. We
were snuggled up naked together like we were in our own little world. Just him,
me, and an ocean of blankets. It was so simple compared to the chaos happening
outside this apartment. Everything out there—the rumors, the homework, the
deaths, the stress, the sadness—seemed to disappear when I was with Hunter in
this bed.

Eventually
he woke up.

“What do
you think about the future, Hunter?” I said softly.

He blinked
away his drowsiness and smiled warmly at me. “Hm? Like what about it?”

“I dunno.
Like end of this semester when you graduate. What are you going to do?”

“Haven’t
really thought about it.” He chuckled. “I’ll probably get a job somewhere,
work. There aren’t a lot of jobs related to physics but I’m sure I’ll find
something. What about you?”

“I haven’t
really thought about it much either. It’s so confusing: the future, real life.
I wish I didn’t have to face it.”

“Me too,
Lorrie.” He kissed my forehead. “You’re a sophomore, so you still have a few
years to figure it out. Whereas for me, I got a few months.” He laughed.

“I don’t
want us to break up because you graduate,” I said softly.

His expression
became serious. “We won’t. We can face the future together. We’re both good
with our hands—you got the drawing skills and I got the punching skills. We can
team up and start an art gallery. You’ll do the art pieces and I’ll knock out
the competitors.”

I laughed.
“Mmmhmm. I like that idea. But what if the competitors start hiring their own
muscle?”

“I’ll take
‘em all down.” He kissed my nose. “Anything for you.”

“You’re so
sweet.” I beamed, returning the kiss. “Hey, do you have a pencil and a piece of
paper?” I said, suddenly inspired. “I kind of want to draw you.”

He
grinned. “Sure.” We both emerged from the blankets, naked. He flicked on the
bedroom lights and retrieved the requested items from his desk beside the
dresser. As I took his desk chair, flipped it around to face him, and sat down,
he made the bed neatly and stretched across it. “Alright, how do you want me?”

“How do I
want you? Umm . . . I want you . . . all over me, actually,” I teased as I
reached for a thin physics workbook on his desk and used it to prop up the
piece of paper Hunter gave me.

Hunter
narrowed his eyes then eagerly jumped off the bed, his cock bouncing as he
walked over to my side, a seductive smile on his lips. My pulse leaped. As
often as I’d seen Hunter without clothes over the past twenty-four hours, I was
certain I’d never get tired of seeing him naked. He was too beautiful.

“I was
just joking,” I said with a smirk. I playfully slapped his semi-erect cock by
my shoulder making it wobble back and forth. “I mean, I do want you all over me
. . . but after I finish this drawing.”

“Of
course,” he said, grinning. He left my side and settled back on the bed. “So
what kind of pose do you want?”

I thought
about all the pictures hanging on the wall in Bigg’s Gym where the fighters had
the same aggressive pose. I had enough drawings of Hunter looking intimidating.
I wanted to sketch the vulnerable side of him, the side I’d only seen recently.
“Why don’t you choose a comfortable position. Sitting or laying. It’s up to
you, whatever’s relaxing enough that you can hold it for like twenty minutes.”

He smiled.
“Okay.” He shifted around on the bed, trying out different positions.
Eventually, he settled into a dramatic laying pose with his finger outstretched
toward me. One knee was raised while the other leg lay on its side, and his
outstretched left arm supported him from the bed.

Even under
the bedroom’s soft lighting, the sharp lines of his naked body contrasted
boldly with the smooth sheets beneath him. I’d always drawn parts of Hunter
from memory—his hammer tattoo, his face—but now I had him as a live subject.
All of him. An excitement swelled inside of me as I began to scan the length of
his exposed figure.

My gaze
started from his large feet and my pulse began beating faster as I moved toward
those powerful legs that were used to drive vicious punches against his
opponents. My breath hitched at the sight of his savage cock draped lazily over
the side of one thigh. I felt my thighs become heated as I thought about how
the expert use of that one part of him could pull mind-shattering orgasms from
my body. My gaze snagged on his pelvis and I bit my lip, following the hard
lines up to his trim hips and then to his pack of ab muscles that were so cut
they appeared flexed even when I knew he was relaxed. They looked so yummy that
I wanted to lick them slowly all the way from the bottom to base of his pecs.
His chest was composed of two chiseled slabs of flesh, expanding and
contracting with each of his calm breaths. I reached his face and was
mesmerized by those dark gray eyes filled with depth and mystery. Behind those
irises hid a past that I didn’t know about. What was it like to have
drug-addict parents? A thread of doubt twisted through me. Could I really
capture the essence of Hunter in a drawing?

He smiled
at me. “How’s this?”

“Umm . . .
that’s a classic pose from the Sistine Chapel.” I giggled, recalling the fresco
painting titled
The Creation of Adam
. “Unfortunately, my name’s not
Michelangelo and this isn’t the 1500s.”

He
narrowed his eyebrows. “Michelangelo? I was going for the scene from E.T. with
the glowy-healing finger.”

I giggled
again. “Ah, I see. How about we try something less dramatic? Something more
natural. I want to see the
Hunter
in his natural element.”

“Hmm . .
.” His body remained in the same pose but he rested his right elbow on his one
raised knee and put his forefinger to his lip in thought. “Lemme think about
it.”

“There
that’s it! Hold that if you can.”

He turned
toward me. “Huh? You like this?” He tilted his head to examine himself.

“Yeah!
Don’t move!”

He knitted
his brows. “What’s so special about this position?”

“I think
it suits you well. It’s kind of like you’re exposed and vulnerable . . . but
not fully since you still have that one knee up. You also look relaxed but also
concerned—like the weight of the world is on your mind. It seems like a natural
pose. Hmm it’s still missing something though . . .” I picked up one of his
gray hoodies from the floor and threw it to him. “Here put this on. Leave it
unzipped so I can see your six pack but put the hood up.”

With his
brow raised skeptically, he caught the hoodie with one hand and carefully put
it on while maintaining his position; the hoodie was the only thing he was
wearing. He left the sweater unzipped like I’d asked, leaving his chest and abs
deliciously exposed. His cock was still draped over his thigh carelessly.

“How does
this look?” he asked.

“That’s
perfect,” I hummed, feeling a thrill from the added sexiness the sweater
brought to the pose. “Now just hold that while I work.”

I began
drawing him starting with the basic contours of his body then refined the lines
with small details here and there—the round curve of his shoulders, the slight
jutting of his developed obliques.

“You keep
doing that and we’re not gonna finish this drawing,” he said.

Breaking
out of my intense concentration, I lifted my head from the paper. “Doing what?”

“Biting
your bottom lip like that. If you keep doing that, we’re gonna have to work off
some tension.”

I glanced
at his leg and saw his cock becoming unabashedly erect.

I smiled
pleasantly, returning my focus to the drawing to avoid seeing the lust in his
eyes that I knew was there. The throbbing between my legs made me unsure
whether I’d be able to resist him if I saw his hunger for me. “I’m trying,
Hunter.” I grumbled. “It’s difficult though. I’m just getting really into this
drawing.”

“I can see
that. Your tits are so hard right now. It’s all I can think about. How can I
lay still when I know they’re so suckable.”

My smile
widened. “Patience, my dear Hunter. I’ll be finished soon.”

Once I
completed the shading on his body, I began working on the details of his face.
It was difficult to capture his eyes just right. I kept looking at his eyes,
comparing him to what I had drawn, but something was always off. It took every
ounce of concentration, but I finally finished the drawing. Releasing a
satisfied exhalation, I put down my pencil and fingered him over. He eagerly
hopped off the bed and returned to my side.

I handed
him the completed drawing and waited for his reaction. “This is amazing.” he
said, his voice intimately low and filled with admiration.

“Well, the
figure is you after all, Mr. Humble,” I teased.

“No, aside
from that . . . I’ve never seen anything like this before. Somehow you’ve
captured every little detail about me. How did you do it?”

I pointed
at the picture in between his hands. “Well, first your body was a challenge.
There were a lot of subtle contours and a wide range of hard and soft shadows.
Most people aren’t even close to being as muscular as you so they generally
have a lot of light shadows and simple lines. Your lines and shadows were much
more complex.”

He nodded,
listening to my words and scanning the picture carefully.

I directed
his attention to particular spots on his torso. “You’ve also got all these
scars, bumps, and bruises on your skin that I take you got from fighting. Some
of them are more faded and some are fresher. I spent a lot of effort trying to
capture each of them.” I recalled Aunt Caroline telling me before that the
scars we have—both on the inside as well as on the outside—are part of what
makes us who we are. I wondered at how Hunter had changed after receiving each
of his scars.

“ . . .
The detail is incredible. It’s even better than a mirror.”

“Sometimes
it takes another person to see us for who we really are.”

“You’re
right, I’d even forgotten I had some these scars, I’d seen ‘em so often in the
mirror. They’re supposed to be reminders of the mistakes I made in my fights.
But it’s easy to overlook things you see often until you see them from a
different perspective.”

“Mmhmm.” I
nodded. “. . . So after I finished your body, I had to fill in the details of
your face. This was the hardest part. I was able to get the shape of your nose
and the curve of your lips pretty easily but when it came to your eyes, I had
to redraw them at least a dozen times.”

“What was
wrong with the eyes?”

“I don’t
know. You’ve got these stunning gray eyes . . . every time I drew them they
came out too flat or one-dimensional. So I had to keep redoing them—you can
still see some of the eraser marks here.” I pointed to the rough texture of the
paper where I’d erased multiple times. “Even now, I don’t think I’ve quite
captured them.”

“No, this
looks amazing,” he said, mesmerized.

I grinned.
“Thank you, it’s my best work to-date. Couldn’t have done it without such a
capable model.”

“It’s even
better now that you’ve explained it to me. I didn’t realize you put so much
thought and effort into every line. I thought art just came naturally for
you."

“Well,
it’s probably similar to fighting for you. Some of it comes naturally but a lot
of it is practice and thinking.”

“You’re so
smart and talented.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “We make a good team,
don’t we?”

“The best team.
Now that we’re finished, let’s get back to business.” I took the drawing from
his hands and placed it on the desk then I ripped off his hoodie and we tumbled
onto the bed, lips locked in passionate embrace. We curled up beneath the
sheets and remained there the rest of the night.