LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

QUIN & PERIN

 OPYRIGHT

Cover Artist: Quin&Perin

Like Father, Like Son © 2020 Quin&Perin

ALL RIGHTS RESER ED

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system
without the written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

WARNING

Intended for an 18+ audience only. This book contains material that may be offensive to some and is
intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult
situations.

TRADEMAR S

The authors acknowledge the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word
marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
 ONTENTS

Like Father, Like Son

FREE READ
More filthy reads
Also by Quin & Perin
Let’s talk about our boys!
About Quin&Perin + connect
 WARNING

This book contains a taboo relationship, so please proceed with caution. If

you’re not into the taboo genre (brocest, twincest etc.) now is the time to
back out.
Thank you x
Perin
 For all of our kinky readers

Without you, we wouldn’t keep publishing x

Karen Meeus, Tanja Ongkiehong & Karen Edwards, I couldn’t have done
this without you. Thank you xoxo
 SYNOPSIS

Surprise, it's a boy!

I never wanted to know him.

Never even suspected his existence.
But once I knew, I had to see him.
Had to see if it was true.

He has your eyes, your hair, your dimples.

Timothee is everything I used to be, full of life, full of joy.

He's also a sassy little sh*t.
He has me wrapped around his fingers, so damn easily.

My son? He's trouble.

What we share is all kinds of wrong, even if it feels oh so right.

***LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON is a forbidden love romance, full of snark

and k*nk.
 LI E FATHER, LI E SON

ULY 2019, NASH ILLE, TENNESSEE

—Devon
Very few things could make me lose my cool. Very few. But receiving a
letter claiming I had a seventeen-year-old son was certainly one of those
things. I stared at the paper in my hands until my vision turned blurry. This
had to be a joke. Had to be. I didn’t remember having sex with a woman,
ever. But… I recognized the name on the bottom of the letter. And then it
slowly clicked into place, like the gears of a machine suddenly snapping
together. One summer after college, I’d fooled around with a girl, Sophie.
I’d been nineteen and a fucking idiot, apparently.
I raked one hand through my hair and blew out a breath. I felt like
someone had just pulled the rug out from under me. Which really didn’t
happen often. I could cope with high-adrenaline situations—I stole for a
living, for God’s sake—but this was really something else.
Don’t ever do it without a condom or you could catch something. Like a
fucking kid? Fuck. I slumped against the closed door, causing it to creak
and groan. Dizziness took over, and darkness inched closer at the edges of
my vision. I looked back at the words swimming in front of me.

Devon, I am sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner. It was my choice to keep him,
and I didn’t want to burden you with my decision. But he is yours. He has
your eyes, your hair, your dimples. I just need you to know now because I’m
afraid time is running out for me. You don’t have to meet him. But if you do
decide to, please know that he plays all tough, but inside, he’s a gentle soul.
I’ve always been honest with him, so he knows you didn’t abandon him or
run off. He doesn’t know anything about you because he didn’t want to
know. I’m going to give this letter to a friend of mine who’ll send it to you,
along with a copy of our son’s birth certificate, once I’m dead.

I sank down against the door. Should I Google him—my son? No, better
not. Would I want to meet him? God, I didn’t know. I never thought I’d
have a kid. Never wanted to either. Especially because my lifestyle wasn’t
safe for someone hanging around me. I let the letter slide to the floor, head
dropping back against the door. I was still wearing my dirty boots, a black
shirt, and old, stained jeans. This was not supposed to happen.
I was thirty-seven.
And I was gay.
I couldn’t even remember the act itself, with Sophie. However hard I
tried, I couldn’t recall. I must have been drunk or high. Or had she just
made this shit up? But why would she want to screw me over? Why now?
She could have done that before, asking for money, which I couldn’t have
given her. But now the boy was almost eighteen, and he didn’t even want to
know me.
Did I, though?
I groaned at the confusion coiling inside my head, kicking off a dull,
thumping ache between my eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I had gotten up this
morning with only one thing to worry about: my next job. A townhouse in
the middle of the city filled with jewels and lots of cash. I’d delivered it all
to the client who’d booked me two days ago. It was past midnight now, and
I really shouldn’t have checked my postbox. I rarely ever did.
The letter and envelope rustled when I pulled it up again to check the
date on the postage stamp. It had been sent three weeks ago. Three fucking
weeks. For a few moments, I rested back against the door, legs spread out,
letter on my thighs. I could just go on like nothing had happened, ignore
that I did have someone who was related to me now. God knew that’d be a
first. My parents had passed away, and I had no relatives that I knew of. I
wasn’t a family kind of guy anyway, so it suited me well. Peace of mind.
No one to take care of.
 I wasn’t good at those things.
At being responsible, as my mother used to say. To my parents, I had
just been one big, disappointing failure. A college dropout, charged with
theft and assault several times. No one was gonna hire me with those
charges now, which was why I stuck to what I knew: screwing people over.
As I sat there, in my studio apartment, I dug out my pack of cigarettes,
eyed the half-empty box, and then plucked one out. I could go and see him,
ring the doorbell and pretend I was looking for someone else. Wrong door,
sorry. Yeah, that’s what I could do.
My lighter clicked, the flame burning up and blazing through the end of
the cigarette between my lips. No commitment. No responsibility. He
wouldn’t want to know me anyway. I pushed the letter off my legs and
angled them so I could lean my forearms against my knees. The place I
lived in was as small as a shoebox, barely 300 square feet. Kitchen on the
left-hand side, just one counter, next to it an old fridge one of my buddies
had fixed up for me. Opposite the kitchen counter, a couple of feet away,
was my bed, aka a mattress on a few pallets I’d “found” in the street.
I exhaled the smoke and watched the thick wafts curl up in front of me,
into the relative darkness of the night. My neighbor’s TV was blaring from
downstairs, and down the hall, someone coughed. This was a shit place
either way, with or without company. No place for a kid. Or a young adult.
As I sat there, I hooked my toes into the back of my boots and shoved until
they were off. One, two. I licked my dry lips and took another drag. He has
your eyes, your hair, your dimples. How did she even remember?
I snatched up the letter again and crinkled my nose at the address she’d
written down. That place was a four-hour drive away, at least. I did have a
car, but I wasn’t sure if it would make it for that long. But still. I wanted to
see if she was right. If he did have my eyes, my hair, my dimples.

—Timothee
Another day, another stack of bills that weren't going to get paid.
Chewing at my thumbnail, I tossed the disconnect notice I'd been reading
onto the crooked kitchen table and sunk into one of the equally unsettled
chairs. This one was from the utility company. Addressed to my mother—a
warning that if she didn't pay the astronomically high past due amount,
they'd cut the gas and the electricity. The cable had already been cut, before
Mom died, and the rent was past due as well. Those were the bills that
wouldn't be solved by a death certificate. The one shining grace was that the
guy who owned the house felt bad enough for me he hadn't started eviction
proceedings… yet.
I didn't know what I was going to do. This wasn't how things were
supposed to happen. My mom always said I'd be better than her, better than
any of them. I'd graduate and get scholarships to go to college and do great
things. And then God had taken her away from me. She’d asked her friend,
Marita, to take me in, and I’d promised her I’d let her help me… but I’d
broken that promise. I didn’t want Marita, nor did I want her family’s pitiful
stares. I wanted to be left alone. And now? Now I was trapped. Just like my
mom had ended up being. Working almost twenty years at the same fucking
diner, serving the same fucking miserable people who couldn't tip.
This place was like quicksand. If you didn't get out early, it had a way of
sucking you in and keeping you here until you died a miserable death and
left behind a mountain of fucking debts for your family to pay off. I didn't
want that. I never wanted that. There were people who did, of course. The
majority of the kids I'd gone to school with were just there because they had
to be. They didn't care about books or math or science. They were gonna
work at their dad's garage or stock the grocery stores or whatever shitty
paying job they could get. Same as their parents. And when they inevitably
had another fucking burden on the system, their kids would do it too. An
endless cycle of fucking misery.
It pissed me off. I hated this place. I hated these sad, miserable people.
And I hated God for taking my mom away from me. I missed her so
fucking much it was hard to breathe. Fuck. I swept my arms across the
table, sending the papers fluttering down and scattering all over the floor.
Not satisfied with that, I grabbed the table and rose to my feet, then flipped
it over on top of the mess I'd just made. It didn't help. It was all such
fucking bullshit.
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes for a
moment. I needed to get out of this house before I went crazy. Needed to
just… forget myself for a while. Be someone else. Someone who wasn't so
fucking miserable.
About thirty minutes out of town was a bar. It never looked too closely
at your fake ID and had the shittiest fucking beer in the world. The owner
was a creepy little fat man who always hit on the clearly underage girls, but
people put up with him because his bar was so shitty. No one ever admitted
to going there. Which guaranteed a sort of anonymity. Men could cheat on
their wives, and no one would say a word. Women could get wasted and
fucked by older men, and no one cared. It was gross and filthy and a terrible
place, but it was one of the only places I felt comfortable looking for dick.
It was still a bit early in the evening, but that didn't matter. The bar
would be open. It was always open.
I ran up the stairs, took a quick shower, and got myself ready for a night
out. Once dressed, I shoved my feet into my sneakers and grabbed my
jacket. Probably the only thing I owned that wasn't complete shit. Real
leather, a little worn, and maybe older than me but still in good condition.
Mom had found it at the Goodwill in town three years ago. Back then, it
had been a little too big for me, but I’d grown into it, and now it fit me
perfectly. Leaving my jacket open at the front, I pulled my pack of
cigarettes from the inside pocket and lit up, blowing smoke toward the
ceiling.
Briefly, I was tempted to take my lighter to those papers. Watch the
whole house go up. But I resisted that urge, instead grabbed my keys and
headed out. The screen door slammed shut behind me.

—Devon
I’d mulled things over for two days before I decided to go ahead and get
it over with. This child thing would hang over my head like a raincloud
every day if I didn’t go to see him soon. Had Sophie had a husband or
someone who looked after him now? Not that I really cared. I’d take one
look at the kid, and then I’d get out of there. With my knuckles white
around the steering wheel and my gut squirming with nerves, I raced down
the highway toward New Carlisle.
I’d finished with another client last night and had been asleep most of
the morning. It wasn’t like I could take time off; I was a freelancer, so to
speak, relying on word of mouth. But for the next three nights, I had
nothing planned. It was now or never.
The sun was setting when I arrived at the motel I’d looked up at home.
It was a little outside the town, much cheaper than in the center, which was
why I’d picked it. My heart was thumping out a slow, heavy rhythm, and
my nerves were on edge at the mere thought of looking my son in the eye
for the first time.
I wasn’t the type to get nervous, yet this got my blood pumping. I turned
into the parking lot in front of the motel, grabbed my duffle bag, and made
my way over to the reception office.
The woman behind the counter was watching a reality show, frantically
typing on her phone. The air was stale, the carpet stained and dirty. But it
was all I could afford for a night. “Room for one,” I said, slumping against
the side of the counter. She turned to me, popping gum, one pierced brow
hitched.
“That’ll be twenty,” she slurred. She took a key from the board and
placed it on the counter. I dug out two ten-dollar bills and handed them
over.
“Any bars or clubs around here?” I needed something to calm me down.
A drink, a quickie, a hand job. At this point, I’d take anything to take my
mind off my son. My son. I mentally slapped myself for that thought. He
wasn’t my anything.
“Yep.” She pursed her lips and pointed one long-nailed finger to my
left. “Just down the street.” I nodded thanks and grabbed the key to my
room. My room was right up the stairs outside and then at the very end of
the building.
I pushed the door open and cringed at the awful creaking. I held it for a
moment. The room was simmering with heat while the air outside was
already cooling down from the searing summer day. My white tank top
stuck to my chest, and sweat glistened on my brow. I heaved in a breath.
For a moment I wished I had more money to spend on a better hotel.
Something that wasn’t usually rented by the hour. Once I paid off my debt,
I’d finally be able to make some changes.
With the numerous tattoos and my piercings, I bet Sophie wouldn’t have
recognized me. Perhaps if she’d known me before she passed away, she
wouldn’t have wanted me to know her son either.
I kicked the door shut, threw my duffle bag onto the queen-sized bed,
and stripped off my shirt. All I needed was a quick shower. Then I’d head
out and get drunk. And laid.

—Timothee
 The bar was dead.
D. E. A. D.
Yeah, it was a weeknight, but this was fucking Ohio. Everyone was an
alcoholic here. I’d hoped at least one interesting person would have been
around. I didn't even care if it was someone I’d been with before. I wanted a
distraction, and maybe, if I got the right person, I could even sneak some
cigarette money out of their wallet. I wasn’t asking for much.
I sat on one of the cracked stools at the bar and waited for the fat man
behind it to stroll over so I could order a cheap, disgusting beer. Country
music blared from the speakers, and smoke filled the room, even with the
small number of people there. The wood on the bar was pitted and always
sticky. On top stood little wooden bowls with what were supposed to be
peanuts in them, but I questioned that. Peanuts weren't fuzzy last I checked.
This whole damn place was a health hazard, and it was fucking sad it was
my "happy" place.
"What?" The bartender/owner/pervert stood in front of me. No attempt
at politeness. Nothing but a sneer that showed off teeth brown from years of
chewing dip. Even right now he had a plug of it tucked behind his lower lip.
"Beer," I stated, sliding the few dollars I had across the counter. The
alcohol always took the pain away, for a few hours at least. "A bottle of
beer."
Not that the bottles were much better, but I'd be damned if I put my lips
to a glass in this fucking hellhole.
He snorted and shook his head, shuffling off to the cooler and taking a
bottle out. He whacked it against the bar to get the top off, letting the metal
cap clatter to the floor, and passed it over to me. I carefully used the edge of
my shirt to wipe the top of the bottle off before taking a sip. He smirked,
then walked back over to a thirtyish woman with frizzled-out bleached hair
and attempted to flirt.
Sighing, I tilted my head down and tried to make out shapes in the scars
that covered the bar top. A two-legged cat and a skinny whale and… it
killed the time better than sitting at home, staring at bills. I took another
swig of my drink.
The doors swung open, and heavy boots thumped across the floor. I
glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes widened. In walked trouble. And I
fucking loved trouble. Tall, dark, and Mom's worst nightmare. He was
wearing a simple, black shirt that stretched across his chest, tight enough to
show off his pierced nipples. Tattoos littered his arms, all greyscale. He had
even one on his throat, a sharp line from his chin to his chest, disappearing
under his shirt. He brushed his fingers through his dark hair, showing off
rings that glinted in the dim light and even more tattoos.
He was bad news, and God, I fucking wanted him.
Smarter people would probably say I sought out older men due to daddy
issues (namely never having one), and they would probably be right.
Because, boy oh boy, did I want to bend over and call him Daddy. He'd
probably like it too, judging by those nipple rings.
He strode toward the bar like he owned it, took a seat, and snapped his
fingers. His bright blue eyes scanned the room, halting on me for a moment.
He lifted a heavy hand with rings and, crooking his finger, beckoned me
closer.
Licking my lips, I obeyed.

—Devon
It was a bold move, but I had nothing to lose; I’d be gone tomorrow
anyway. The young guy at the bar slid from his stool and strutted over to
me. He was rather thin and looked like he still needed to grow some more,
grow into a proper man.
“How old are you?” I asked as he came closer. He seemed even younger
than from a distance, like a college kid, eager for a good time. A patch of
stubble right beside his ear caught my eye. Likely he missed it when
shaving this morning; it was kind of adorable.
“Twenty-one,” he said and jutted his chin, eyes confident and cold. I
glanced at his beer. If he could drink alcohol in here, he had to be of age.
All right then. “And you?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at how bold he was in turn. Just when I was
about to answer, a man sauntered closer behind the bar, chewing dip, dark
bags under his eyes. One miserable son of a bitch. “What he’s havin’,” I
told the man who just grunted in confirmation, then strolled away.
I rolled my shoulders and focused my attention back on the boy next to
me. He had his eyes on me, one elbow on the counter, holding his beer in
front of him.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” I answered. I was old enough to drink, that
was for sure.
 He tilted his head, brought his drink up to his lips, and held my stare.
Man, the energy that rolled off him was intense, and I was intrigued.
“Guess not,” he said with a one-sided shrug, fingers plucking at the
label on his bottle. As the man behind the counter handed me my beer, I
pulled out my wallet, paid him, and then clicked my bottle against the
boy’s.
“What’s your name?” I asked. The music was loud and invasive,
throbbing through my body, but all I really saw and heard was him. If I was
lucky, he could become the perfect distraction for a night.
“Tucker,” he said. “You?” Another defiant tilt of his head.
“Devon.”
“Hey, Devon,” Tucker replied with a wide, cheeky grin, his blue eyes
sparkling with mischief. “Wanna get outta here?”
I took another pull on my beer and snorted. “You’re not beating around
the bush, are ya?”
“Not really.” Tucker let his gaze rake across my body. Goose bumps
rose on my skin at the way he sized me up. He was awfully confident for
his age. “When I see something I like, I take it.” Christ… not so fast. We
had to be on the same page for this to work; he had to be able to handle
what I wanted, what I needed, or else this would be no fun. I bit the side of
my lip and placed the bottle on the counter, watching the condensation fade
away as I moved it in small circles on the rough surface.
“Tell me what you like, Tucker. Then I’ll decide.”

—Timothee
There wasn't anything worth shit in this fucking place. I didn't even
know where I was going to live next week. I was going to take what I
wanted. Take Devon by the balls, probably literally, and have him make me
his for the evening. And then maybe I'd steal his money and go pick up
something to eat before going home. The usual.
I placed my beer on the bar and closed the remaining distance between
us. "Well, there's a lot I like," I said. I dragged my fingers over his arm and
squeezed his biceps. He was tall but not big. Lean with a narrow waist and
broad chest. He wasn't a bodybuilder, but his arms… they were perfect. "I
like strong men who can toss me around the room and pin me to the bed
until I'm crying for it."
 Devon's eyes flashed. That had clearly caught his interest. I smirked.
Got 'im. I probably could have stopped right there, but I kept going. Might
as well lay all my cards on the table because when I looked for an older
man, I had very specific things I wanted from him. I slipped my fingers
lower, tracing across the tattoo on the back of his hand, and tilted my head
to the side. “I also have a thing for older men,” I purred, lips almost against
his ear. “Wanna be my Daddy for the night?”
His body tensed. Fuck, had I crossed a line? If he wasn’t into it, that was
fine. He could find someone else in this half-empty bar, in fucking Ohio, to
go home with him. I’d have better luck finding a fuck than he would. That
much I was sure of. It was clear he was thinking about what I’d said, but
then he shrugged and placed the beer bottle back between his lips. He
drained it in no time. “Whatever you want, kid,” he said with a roguish grin.
Jesus, he was fucking handsome in that bad-boy way that made him
irresistible. “You got a place ‘round here?”
I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Like I’d take you back
to my place.” I cocked my hip out. “Where’re you staying, stranger?”
“Motel down the block,” he said without hesitation and rose to his feet.
He was several inches taller than me and a good bit wider. My eyes were
instantly drawn to the faint bulge in the front of his tight pants. Oh yeah, I
wanted him. “It’s not much of a walk if you’re up for it.”
I laughed and snatched up my beer, finished it off, and set it back down.
“Are you up for it?” I asked, giving him a pointed look as I brushed past
him.
Devon growled faintly at that, then thumped after me. Outside, I paused
for a moment, looking around the shitty neighborhood. He came up behind
me and wrapped his ring-heavy hand around my throat so that he could
angle my head back into his chest. “You really think you’re up for this?”
His thumb dug into the underside of my jaw.
Shuddering, I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, fuck yes.”

—Devon
Tucker was much more reckless than I’d initially given him credit for.
He was confident and seemingly fearless. Most guys his age wouldn’t just
go home with someone like me. A stranger. A man others said looked like
trouble, and I sure as hell was that. Trouble. He trembled against me as I
kept my hand around his throat a little longer and inhaled his scent.
He smelled of smoke from the bar, deodorant, and something I couldn’t
identify. Him, I gathered. “Mmmm,” I hummed and eased my hand off his
neck. With one hard push to his shoulder, I shoved him forward. He
stumbled slightly. Then he righted himself, tugged his leather jacket in
place, and leered at me. Cocky bastard. I mirrored his expression and then
nodded in the direction of the motel I was staying at. The night was hot, the
air thick and humid, foretelling the thunderstorm that was about to hit.
I plucked out a cigarette from the pack in my pants, lit it up, and headed
down the street. It had no sidewalk, so we had to walk right beside the road.
At least there was no traffic to disturb us. I led the way, illuminated by a
streetlamp every few yards. Just when I took my first drag, Tucker skipped
to my side and stayed right there.
“Gimme.”
I snorted and draw on my cigarette. The small, orange bud flared up and
seared through the tobacco. “You’re one bossy little shit,” I replied and
handed the cigarette over. He took a long, deep pull. His nose crinkled, and
he coughed. Snatching it back, I shook my head and grasped the back of his
neck with my other hand. I liked the way it felt, my hand right there,
controlling his movements. I almost always held my lovers by the neck.
Before sex, during it, after it. I wanted to leave bruises, marks all over their
bodies. Something to remember me by.
“Over there,” I said with my hand still on his nape, the other bringing
my cigarette back up to my lips so I could finish it before we got inside.
The neon lights of the motel flickered down the street, only a couple of
rooms casting an orange glow across the parking lot.
“That’s one seedy motel,” Tucker noted, and although I could barely see
him in the darkness, I caught the smiling tone in his voice.
“Quiet, kid.”
“Do you have to call me that?” he snapped right before we stepped from
the side of the road onto the parking lot. I stopped, twisted my fingers in his
dark hair, and yanked his head back. He’d just taken a step forward but
jerked back in my direction, keening and pinching his eyes shut. Slowly, I
blew out the smoke that had coiled inside my lungs. The pained expression
on his face was all I’d hoped for. Beautiful.
“You wanna call me Daddy?”
 “Yeah, Daddy,” he responded through gritted teeth, neck craned back.

—Timothee
Fuck.
I’d definitely made the right choice, even if common sense said I should
probably run. Going to a seedy motel, in this area, with a man who looked
like Devon was probably a terrible fucking idea. It was how people ended
up dead in a ditch somewhere in all those stories on the news. But it was
also so exciting, and he was so fucking hot. I liked the way he pulled my
hair, the way he grabbed my throat. It sent electric thrills of pleasure
through my body. We were going to have a lot of fun.
His fingers were still twisted in my hair, and he tugged me back against
him, placing the cigarette between my lips again. I inhaled, not quite
enjoying the bitter taste of his cigarettes the same way as I liked mine.
“Good boy,” he purred. I coughed up smoke, and he pushed me away from
him easily.
“Now come on. My room is upstairs. Move that ass, kid.” He gave my
ass a little whack, and I let out a laugh.
“Whatever you say, Daddy.” I smirked.
I headed across the parking lot and toward the stairs, which were rusty,
and paint was peeling off them. We were probably in one of those places
where all the criminals congregated.
Devon lingered behind me, and I felt his eyes on me as I hooked my
hand around the railing and swung myself up onto the stairs, moving up
quickly. I knew my ass looked amazing in my jeans. I glanced over my
shoulder. Yup, he was watching me with such dark eyes I was sure he
appreciated the view. He flicked his cigarette butt to the side and smirked,
blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Which way?” I asked him.
Devon just tilted his chin sharply in the direction, and I turned, striding
along the rooms. His long legs let him catch up with me easily, and he soon
looped his arm around my waist and tugged me into him. “This one.” He
picked his key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and opened it, then
pushed me into the room.
It was dark, except for the side table lamp he’d left on. Everything
looked like it was from the eighties at least, and it probably hadn’t been
cleaned since then either. Perfect place to get fucked senseless by a stranger.
 “You gonna come and get me, Daddy?” I asked as he shut the door. I
hooked my thumbs in the loops of my jeans and cocked my head to the
side. I scanned him over, taking in every detail. “It’s been a while since I’ve
had a good fuck. Think you can give it to me?”
Devon’s chuckle was husky and deep as he stalked toward me. He
reminded me of a dark and dangerous predator. My cock twitched in
anticipation. Large hands cupped my cheeks, and he pulled me toward him,
tilting my head back so I was looking up at him. “Kid, by the time I’m done
with you, you’ll be struggling to remember your own name.”
“Oooh,” I breathed, fluttering my lashes, and grabbed the front of his
shirt. I sealed my body against him and rolled my hips. “You know all the
right words to say. Now tell me, Daddy, got any more tattoos under these
clothes?”

—Devon
“Why don’t you find out?” I whispered and pushed him back so I could
kick off my boots. Then I toed off my socks too. “Well?” I opened my
hands to present myself to him while Tucker looked me over with that
hungry gaze. I’d been with plenty of younger guys before, and while I
didn’t quite believe he was twenty-one, I knew he’d be old enough to be
eager to please me.
Curling my fingers, I encouraged him to come closer. He shed his old
leather jacket and those dirty sneakers. Tucker grabbed the hem of my tank
top and tugged it up, his fingers splayed and pressed against my stomach.
His touch was heated, palms clammy. “On your knees,” I ordered, shoving
him down with my hands. He went willingly, head tilted back. Crystal-blue
eyes shimmered in the dim light of the room.
He rolled my tank top up my chest and examined the tattoos that peeked
out from under the waistband of my jeans. Outlines of a tree that bled into a
lion on my thigh. With him on his knees before me, my cock swelled
swiftly, creating a thick ridge pointing sideways toward my hip bone.
Tucker’s fingers ghosted across the heavy material of my jeans. Then he
nosed the growing bulge beneath. My pants felt tighter and tighter with
each passing moment.
“What’s this, Daddy?” Oh. His tone was sweet and cheeky, sending
chills across my skin while heat coiled in the pit of my stomach.
 “A treat for you, boy.” His eyes flashed, and his eyelashes seemed
impossibly long for just a moment. Then another one of those impish
smirks crept over his lips. I reached down between us, unbuckled my belt,
and unzipped, then slid my hand in and palmed my dick. “Aren’t you
curious what it is?” I squeezed for effect, my girth throbbing against my
fingers. Tucker pulled my jeans aside, revealing more of my underwear
clinging to my shaft. I couldn’t wait for him to bend over the bed, knees
spread. He wouldn’t even have to get undressed. I’d take him just like that.
A heady mating of two bodies. Daddy and his boy. God, it was dirty enough
to make precum well and seep through the material of my briefs.
I let my hand fall away and widened my stance. “C’mon, boy, claim
your treat.”

—Timothee
Devon liked being my Daddy. The damp spot at the front of his
underwear, which clung to the tip of his erection was clear proof of that. He
was playing my game, even though he really didn't have to, and I enjoyed
that. "I like treats," I purred.
I hooked my fingers over the waistband of his briefs and peeled the
material away like I was unwrapping a present. Moving closer, I hummed
happily and kept my eyes fixed on his bulge. When his underwear was low
enough, his cock flopped free. It had been pointing upward toward his hip,
but freed, it swung forward and smacked against my cheek. "Ooooh… look
at this, Daddy," I murmured, nuzzling the side of his shaft.
He had a very nice cock. It wasn't super long, average size maybe, but it
was fat and veiny and looked absolutely delicious. He wasn't cut like me,
but he was hard enough that the foreskin had pulled back and was showing
off his leaking cockhead. I watched, fascinated, as a bead of precum
trickled from the slit, a long strand dripping on the floor. "You just gonna sit
there and stare, boy?" Devon asked, wrapping one of his hands around the
base of his cock. He placed his hand on my head, holding me in place as he
smacked my cheeks with that meaty shaft of his. "I brought you here to be
my little slut, so get to work… be a good boy now."
That was all it took. My vision went hazy, and a shudder ran down my
whole body. My toes even curled from the force of it. "Yes, Daddy," I
breathed.
 I leaned back on my feet a bit and flicked my tongue over his cock.
Devon rubbed the tip across my lips, then let it drop. His cock bounced
heavily, and I chased after it, wrapping my lips around the head and sucking
hard. He groaned. His cock jerked so suddenly it popped out of my mouth
and left a wet trail across my cheek.
Whining, I caught him back up and took him into my mouth again. All
mine. I suckled greedily, twisting my tongue around the head, then sinking
onto him. My lips were stretched out, and I moaned around him.
Devon placed both hands on the back of my head, linking his fingers
together, and hauled me into him without any kind of warning. As he hit the
back of my throat, my nose pressed into his lower stomach. Tears filled my
eyes, clung to my lashes, then trickled down my cheeks. I moaned low in
my throat, nostrils flaring as I turned my head to the side and breathed.
I swallowed around him. He hissed and pulled me back just as suddenly,
and his cock fell from my mouth. It bobbed in front of me, and I licked it
like it was a popsicle. I whined. "More."

—Devon
Grinning, I slapped his face with my cock again, my shirt brushing
against the base. Tucker’s eyes were wide and glossy, pupils blown as he
stared up at me pleadingly. “Yeah? Want Daddy to fill your tight little hole,
huh?” The sound of my dick against his cheeks echoed in my ears, mingling
with a drawn-out groan. His lashes fluttered closed, and one hand snaked
down to his pants.
“Yes,” he whimpered out the word, squirming in his spot. I stripped off
my shirt, tossed it aside, then grabbed Tucker by the front of his shirt and
hauled him up. His eyes popped open at once. My cock grazed his stomach
as he stood there, so close I smelled the beer on his breath. Saliva glistened
on his chin. I let go of him, wiped his mouth off, and dipped my thumb past
his lips into his mouth.
“Look at you, so eager,” I rasped when Tucker began to suck on my
thumb, his hands pressing against my stomach. They slid up to my chest,
and once they found the barbells in my nipples, he circled them with his
fingers, rubbing gently. It sent shivers down my spine, those nerves
connected directly with my cock; it jumped between us.
 Slowly, I inched my thumb out, but Tucker leaned forward so it
wouldn’t leave his mouth. His lips turned into a pout. With a grin, I circled
his throat and squeezed. I ghosted my lips over his, tongue darting out to
lick his bottom lip. “Take your pants and briefs off, then kneel on the bed,”
I whispered, almost kissing him. Tucker opened his lips for me just slightly,
eyes closed, his pulse fluttering against my fingers. “And then I’m gonna
fuck you, kid. Fill you up with my seed.”
Tucker shuddered hard, his fingers twisting my nipples on impulse. “Is
this what you want? To be bred by Daddy?” I began to quite enjoy this
game. It was dirty, and given our age difference, it was so amazingly
taboo…

—Timothee
"God, Daddy. Please." My breath caught in my throat, and my voice
was shaking as I tilted my head back. His lips brushed across my Adam's
apple. I bit on my lower lip. He had this power. This sense of strength and
danger. Like he could easily take advantage of me. Like he could easily hurt
me. And that was what I wanted. I enjoyed playing with fire, and Devon
was a raging one. "Claim me. Make me yours, Daddy."
I had no doubt Devon would be able to satisfy me, scratch that itch deep
inside. I wanted it. I wanted to feel used.
Devon chuckled against my throat. He placed his hands on my hips and
shoved me backward toward the bed. "Go on, boy. Do what Daddy said and
strip for me. I want to see that pretty little hole of yours."
Smirking, I brushed my hair back from my face and cooed, "Whatever
Daddy wants."
I turned and faced the bed, presenting Devon with my back. I tugged my
shirt off tossed it to the side, paying vague attention to where it landed in
case I needed to make a quick getaway. Moving my hands to my belt, I
unbuckled it quickly and undid the button and zipper. The tight material
caught around my ankles, but I managed to get them off and kicked them to
the floor.
A glance over my shoulder revealed that Devon was watching me.
Devouring me with his eyes as they scanned over my body. His hand was
wrapped around his cock, and he stroked it lazily. His cockhead bobbed
temptingly, and I licked my lips. Snapping the waistband of my underwear,
I pushed them down, letting my cock pop free. It was kind of like Devon's,
but I didn't think it was as impressive. Not quite as long or as thick but with
a decent heft to it still. I grabbed my balls, giving them a squeeze as I
stepped out of my underwear. "Is this what you want, Daddy?" I asked.
Devon closed the space between us, chuckling, a condom wrapper
between his fingers. "Almost," he said. He placed one hand between my
shoulders and gave me a harsh push toward the bed.
My knees hit the edge of the bed, and I climbed onto it as Devon tossed
the thin, silver package onto the mattress next to me. Dropping my hands
forward, I arched my back and whispered, "Better?"
Devon hummed in agreement, his strong fingers grabbing at my ass
cheeks and parting them. He was quiet for a moment, only his thumb
brushing across my entrance. Oh, he was examining me. "Look at this," he
purred. "Mm. You were planning on getting fucked tonight, hm? Daddy's
little whore."

—Devon
It was a heavenly sight, one I had come to appreciate throughout the
years. A younger man bending over, exposed and vulnerable, just for me. I
leaned forward and let a string of saliva pool around his pink pucker, then
circled it with my thumb.
“Fuck yeah,” I grunted, drawing my thumb down his taint toward his
balls to slick them up. Then I gave his balls a slow tug that grew in
intensity.
“Mnngh.” He exhaled hoarsely, toes curling the harder I squeezed.
Tucker’s thighs spread further, sinking on the mattress to ease the tension.
With one hand on his balls and the other in the center of his back, I moved
him into the perfect position. Forearms on the bed, back curved, legs
spread. I released his smooth balls, hairless from shaving and heavy with a
built-up load, and chuckled to myself as I thought back to how horny I’d
been when I was younger; it had all been about chasing my next orgasm.
God, how I missed those times.
I snatched up a handful of his hair again, angled his head back, and
stepped forward until my dick rested right between his ass cheeks. Tucker
panted softly, his eyes half-lidded, entrance tensing and relaxing in obvious
anticipation. I thrust two of my fingers into his mouth and ordered him to
“get them nice and slick.” He suckled, spit dripping off my digits, careless
but so fucking hungry…waves of heat barreled through my body. I pressed
them in deeper until his lips were against my silver rings, making him gag
softly while he rocked his ass back against me.
“Enough. Stay still,” I growled and pulled my fingers back. His head
fell forward, hips still bucking. “Stay. Still.” I hissed the words out and
flicked my fingers right against his sack, making him jump.
And then… Whack!
My hand landed heavily on the side of his ass, the imprint of my fingers
turning scarlet on his freckled skin. Oh, how I’d love to give him a proper
spanking. Tucker gasped, sucking back a yelp and quivering all over. Only
then did I bring my slick fingers down between his ass cheeks and spread
them with my other hand. First, I teased the puckered muscle, prepared for
some resistance, and was surprised how easily my finger dove in. “Christ.”
Tucker was a slut. There was no denying it. I breached his muscle to the
first knuckle and then crooked my finger slightly, feeling for that bundle of
nerves that would hopefully make him tremble.
His hole clenched tight as I probed his ass in search of his prostate, my
other hand firm on his hip. There. Tucker jerked, groaned long and low, and
a full-body shudder went through him from the top of his head to the tips of
his toes. “F-Fuck-k.”
Heat rushed through my veins. My dick rock was hard and searing hot,
pressed against his smooth balls. I tapped my fingertip against that spot
again and chuckled at how Tucker’s body went taut and then shivered all
over again. “You like that, baby?”
He mewled out a “Yessss,” and I pressed a little harder, my other hand
seeking out his dark strands again. I loved grabbing him by the hair, loved
how he craned his neck back. I did it once more and hauled him up and off
the bed so he was on his knees, his back against my chest. Tucker sucked in
a sharp breath, my finger still crooked and unmoving in its spot. Slowly, I
leaned forward and placed my lips against his ear so he wouldn’t miss the
words I said.
“Baby,” I hummed and clucked my tongue when he tried to buck his
hips again. “Stay still.” This time, he obeyed. This time, he listened. “Good
boy,” I whispered and bit down on his earlobe while I played with his
prostate, rubbing it, drawing little circles, tapping it softly. “Tell me how
much you want my dick in your ass.”
 No words escaped his lips, just soft whimpers and moans. Not good
enough. I wanted him to be noisy, wanted him to beg and scream and cry.
“Say it,” I snarled, twisting my fingers in his hair. “Loud and clear.” I
inhaled the scent of his hair, smokey and youthful at the same time, and
added more pressure to that spot inside him. Tucker’s ass locked down on
my finger, and when I rolled my hips against his ass, his mouth fell open.
By now, I was aching for it, precum collecting at the tip of my cock, and I
was ready to stuff him full.
“Oh God, I need your fat dick, Daddy. Fucking hell, give it to me. Fuck.
Me. I need you to fuck me! Please.” I hadn’t expected him to be this
coherent, but it only spurred me on more. I shoved him back onto the bed,
pulled my finger out of his ass, and grabbed the condom beside him on the
mattress. My hands trembled, and my heart raced with lust and arousal. My
senses were zeroing in on him, on this boy who was now spreading his ass
cheeks for me and muttering “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, please.”
He dug his fingers into his soft flesh, chest pressed to the bed, balls
drawn up tight. I caught sight of his rigid cock jouncing softly between his
legs, and my brain waves flatlined completely. I hadn’t even touched his
dick, just played with his ass a little. He was unreal. And desperate to be
fucked.
Tucker wiggled his hips in invitation again as I rolled the condom all
the way down to the thick base of my cock and gave it a squeeze. My breath
came in short puffs, my vision was blurry, and I only focused on the hole he
presented to me. I had to fill it. Now.
Tucker whimpered needily, bucking faster, toes curled when I steadied
his hips with one hand and angled my dick down with the other. He felt so
hot and soft and slick… Good God. I lined us up swiftly, the blunt head of
my cock nestled between his ass cheeks, the pulsations of his pucker
making my heartbeat faster-faster-faster until his muscles gave way and I
thrust right in.

—Timothee
"Oh God. Fuck. Yesss."
Devon wasn't gentle, and I didn't want him to be. He pushed and pushed
until the tip of his cock popped inside me. And then he just pushed even
harder so that he sunk halfway in, spreading me out and making my
muscles spasm around him. He gripped my hips tightly before yanking out
and then slamming back in. One more thrust was all it took... He was buried
so deep I thought there was no way he could get any deeper, but then he
tugged me back against him, his hips sealing with my ass, and it was nearly
over for me then and there.
I scrambled between my legs, wrapped my fingers around my balls, and
squeezed hard to try to hold back my orgasm. Grinding my teeth together, I
closed my eyes, and my body tensed. I was quivering from the way my
muscles wound tight, holding my breath without even realizing it. I’d taken
cocks before, it was pretty much a requirement if I was going to let
someone fuck me, and Devon’s probably wasn’t even the biggest, but
something about the way he handled me had me on edge. “Jesus.” I gasped,
the word sounding like a sob. Precum was dripping from my cock, soaking
into the sheets below.
“Not quite,” Devon murmured lowly. He hadn’t moved, perhaps sensing
I was close from the way my body was pulsing around his cock. He kept
pressing bruises into one of my hips while bringing his other hand around
my neck. He caught me up with the palm of his hand and guided my head
back. He cupped my throat, right beneath my jaw, and dragged his thumb
across my lower lip. Devon forced me back until my shoulders were against
his chest and my muscles were aching from how far he was making me
bend. I spread my knees wider, trembling as he dragged his lips over my
ear, the scruff of his jaw scratching against my skin. “I’m not God or Jesus.
I’m the devil, here to take your sweet little soul and paint it black.”
I was learning very quickly Devon had a very particular way of dirty
talking. A way that was filthy and degrading and blasphemous and perfect.
When he spoke so low in my ear like that, it set my body on fire. I bucked
my hips back into him and let out a quiet moan. “Please, Daddy,” I whined.
“Please. Want you to fuck me. Want you to make it hard to breathe.”
Devon’s fingers twitched against my throat, and he growled. “You
should be careful what you wish for, kid,” he whispered. “Because you
might just get it.” His grasp constricted around my neck for a moment. It
wasn’t enough to cut off my air, just enough to make it clear that he could if
he wanted to.
I sobbed, rolling my hips back against him and clenching around him
purposefully.
 A sudden flash of light filled the room, and then a wave of thunder
made the windows rattle. Devon’s growl sounded like the promise of a
storm as he forced me down against the mattress. He brought one of his legs
up, his knee digging into the mattress, making the bed sink a little. Strong
fingers tangled in my hair, strands catching on his rings as he shoved my
face into the blankets.
I couldn’t see the lightning, but I heard the thunder as Devon started to
fuck me in earnest. He wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t kind to my body. It was like he
didn’t care that I was there. Like it didn’t matter if I wanted it or not. All
that mattered was that there was a warm hole for him to plunge into until
completion.
I wanted it.
I wanted all of it.
To be his sex doll. To have him ravish me and fill me and make me cry
out. This was the only pleasure I got in my life. The only thing I looked
forward to. Being used allowed me to let my mind go blank. Allowed me to
relax and exist entirely in the moment. Rid myself of all those painful
memories. Because my life would never be the same.
I needed it. Needed to stop the stream of harmful thoughts. Devon
might have been using me for his own purposes, but I was doing the exact
same thing to him.
His hips connected with enough force to make the bed squeak and the
headboard slam into the wall. I struggled against him, turning my head to
the side against the mattress so I could gasp out. “More! Daddy, more.
Please!”

—Devon
The thunder.
The creaking bed.
His sobs and cries.
My belt clinking whenever I slammed in.
All those noises merged into a debauched symphony playing through
my mind. It was perfect and just what I needed to forget the world around
me. The news I’d gotten, the life I lived. I plowed Tucker’s ass and watched
his muscles ripple underneath his skin whenever lightning struck and filled
the room with light. Ravenously, I tugged him back onto the full length of
my erection until a steady stream of curses spilled from his dark red lips.
His insides clutched to me like a vise whenever I rammed in, balls
against his ass, spread open by my dick. He scrambled for purchase, fingers
racing down the sheets, twisting and gripping so his body wouldn’t jerk
forward with each thrust. And when he finally grabbed on, he started to beg
for more. So desperately and loudly that in the distant reaches of my
consciousness, I heard someone shout and bang their fist against the wall.
But it didn’t matter. All I needed was that tight, hot hole embracing me
from the tip of my cock to the base, pulsing and clenching.
His head was turned to the side, and his knuckles were white as he
fisted the blankets. Cheeks flushed scarlet, lips a thin, white line. The
tension within me spiked, and when I stopped and trembled, that familiar
tingle in my balls almost burst free. Shoving Tucker forward, I pulled my
other knee up on the bed as well and then brought my bare chest to his
back, sealing myself to him.
Sinking all the way inside him, I stayed right there and locked my arms
around his torso, holding him in place. Tucker mewled, hips twitching
softly. But he was so full. Of me. My dick. Everything I could give him. My
cock throbbed and flexed inside him while my heart pounded against his
shoulder blades.
“Kid,” I growled, out of breath, beads of sweat rolling down the sides of
my face. Thunder struck once more, making the room vibrate with the same
kind of force I used on him. This young man spread open and begging for
more. Begging for me to wreck him. “Roll your hips for me,” I whispered
gruffly, one hand wedging down between the bed and his stomach to grab
his cock. “C’mon,” I urged. I tilted my hips forward so if he moved, he
couldn’t fuck himself back onto me but only increase the pressure on his
prostate by rolling his hips accordingly.

—Timothee
My orgasm almost took me over as I did what Devon demanded of me.
I rolled my hips back against him, rocking them like I was trying to fucking
learn to belly dance or something. His cock was grinding against my
prostate, the pleasure constant. It was so fucking good it hurt. And I wanted
more of it.
 “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
I was beyond making any sense now. No more begging. No more asking
for more. All I could do was pray and hope my heart didn’t explode from
how fast it was beating as he rocked into me.
His nails dug into the side of my thigh. “Not God,” he panted into my
ear, giving the lobe a sharp bite that made me jerk. “Say it fucking right,
kid, or I’m going to leave you fucking desperate.”
Devon was threatening me. He had his dick buried so deep in me, his
hand on my cock, pinning me down, and he was still threatening me
because of the words I’d chosen. What a controlling fucking asshole.
My cock twitched in his hand, and I let out a quiet whine. “Daddy,” I
breathed. “Please.”
He gave me a stroke, and only one, then purred wickedly. “Much
better.” He snapped his hips forward so that my knees were practically
lifted off the mattress. “Just like that.”
I rolled my hips like he wanted, and he rewarded me with another sharp
snap of his hips. His fingers were slick on my cock as I leaked precum all
over them. I was close, and I wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.
“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Please.”

Devon only had twenty dollars in his wallet, which I supposed made sense,
considering the kind of place he was staying at. I almost felt bad for taking
the last of his money from him. Almost, but not quite. After the fucking
he’d given me, I was starving. I had no money to eat and no food in the
house. This was going to go toward some well-needed refueling.
I shoved the bill into my pocket, glancing over at the bed. Devon clearly
wasn’t the type who let people spend the night, judging from the way he
was spread starfish-like all over the bed. After we’d both come, he’d
thrown the condom into the trash and had shared a cigarette with me. He
didn’t want to talk, and it was clear I wasn’t staying the night. At least I was
lucky it didn’t take him long to fall asleep after he’d taken the last drag
from his cigarette.
This wasn’t something I did all the time. More like some of the time.
When I needed to. I hooked up with a lot of men I met at the bar, but I only
took money from those wandering strangers. It wouldn’t make sense to steal
from someone whom I would see again, even if I was sure most of them
wouldn’t say a word. Not after what we’d done.
Stretching out, I smoothed my clothes down and picked my shoes up
from the floor. I carried them in my hand as I headed to the door, then
turned the handle silently and slipped out of the room. I made sure the door
clicked shut as quietly as possible and walked down from his room before
putting my shoes on.
Free and clear, I bounded down the stairs and took off. Devon probably
wouldn’t realize the money was gone until the morning, but it never did any
good to stick around the scene of a crime. I ran back toward the bar, putting
distance between me and the man whom I’d just called Daddy and then
promptly robbed.
My lungs were burning, and I stopped and leaned against a street light,
grinning widely. Yeah, it had been a good night.

—Devon
Footsteps thudded outside my room, a deep and unfamiliar voice
murmured words, and another voice replied. I cracked my eyes open. This
was not my room, not my bed. The sheets felt too hot against my skin, and
the mattress was too hard. I groaned, tossed and turned, and then just lay
there with my eyes closed. The air was thick with heat and smoke, like
another presence bearing down on me. But I was alone, I could tell that
much. The kid from last night had left after we’d fucked.
Good.
I didn’t like it when anyone lingered around once business was done. I
didn’t like having someone sleep next to me without an invitation I never
gave. It had been a good fuck, though, one I would probably remember for
a while. I’d never thought I had a thing for Daddy kink, especially not with
a boy out there who was my son, but with Tucker, it had gotten me up to
speed real fast.
Sitting up, I reached for my cigarettes on the nightstand. Then my
vision sharpened. What the... My duffle bag was open next to the bed. I
hadn’t left it open; I knew I hadn’t. The wheels in my head rolled and
clicked… Oh, fucking hell. I shoved myself out of the sweaty mess of
sheets and snatched up my wallet, which peeked out between the zipper,
seemingly untouched. But it was empty. Fucking empty. I’d come here with
a little less than fifty dollars, and now the money was gone. The fucking kid
had robbed me. That little shit.
“Fuck!” I hissed. Even though it was only twenty bucks, I couldn’t
believe someone had stolen from me. It was what I did after all. I stole shit.
And yet he’d probably rummaged through my things and then settled on
what he could find. With the cigarette hanging from my lips, I sifted
through my bag and dug out the crinkled-up letter on the bottom underneath
a change of clothes. At least that was still there, or I wouldn’t know where
to go. The chances of seeing Tucker again were slim, bordering on zero, but
if I ever did see him again, he’d regret going through my things. That much
I was sure of.
What a great way to start the day.
I smoked my cigarette while going through Sophie’s letter again,
checking on the address at the bottom. His name was a little smudged,
Timothee Smith. Where I came from, no one was called Timothee; it was
such a fancy name, a paradox in itself that I was the father of this kid. I was
anything but fancy. I’d probably take one look at the guy, tell him I was
looking for someone else, and he’d dismiss me in the blink of an eye.
If that was the case, then I’d at least know my son was exactly like me.
The address on the letter was at the other end of the city, thirty minutes
away. My car could make it that far until I had to find a gas station before
heading back. I had to return home by tonight, or I’d get in trouble for not
showing up at my next job.
I checked out of my room, freshly showered and sated from jacking off
to the memories of that boy kneeling on the bed, begging for my cock. This
time around, though, he’d been tied up and terrified, bruised and crying.
That little shit deserved it.

The woman behind the counter didn’t pay me any attention as I dropped off
the key and left for my car. At least that hadn’t been stolen, which wouldn’t
have been a surprise, given the neighborhood.
My stomach roiled and clenched at the thought of seeing him. A
seventeen-year-old kid whose genes were half mine, half Sophie’s. The
thought made me feel uneasy, but before I could change my mind, I lit
another cigarette and backed out of the parking lot. I’d driven for hours to
lay my eyes on him, and if I turned back now, I was nothing more than a
coward. Fancy Timothee didn’t need to know who I was, and quite frankly,
I didn’t want him to. On a scale from one to ten, I’d be rated as a minus ten
father figure. A man accused of murder, burglary, assault, drug use… a
professional criminal. A man tied to crimes and gangs and death. A failure
all the way. I had only one good thing going for me: connections that kept
me out of jail. In exchange, they kept me deeply buried in debt.
The warm morning air seeped into the car through the window as I
drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against the door. It
was still humid and gloomy. The thunderstorm last night had done nothing
to change that, mirroring the cloudiness of my mind. My stomach rumbled
once more, demanding coffee and food. Last night I’d put all this on hold,
my needs, my thoughts, and satisfied only my most primal cravings. Now,
though, I wanted to get this over with before stopping at a gas station to
head back.
If he wasn’t home, I’d wait. For a couple of hours, perhaps find
something to eat in the meantime. But it was Saturday morning, around
eleven, and people were usually home in the mornings on the weekend,
which was why I never slipped into anyone’s house during that time. I
could break into his house, see what he was like… but no, I didn’t want to
get to know him. I only wanted to know what he looked like. To find out if
Sophie was right about our similarities.
I’d thought I was prepared for what would happen when I rang the
doorbell. But I really wasn’t.
Familiar bright blue eyes widened, and his features hardened as he said,
“Oh, Christ, you needed that twenty back so badly you followed me here?”

—Timothee
Devon stood outside my door, tense and flabbergasted. How had he
found me? I had given him a fake name, and I couldn't think who else
would have seen us together. However he'd found me, he'd had to go
through some fucking effort. And all for twenty fucking dollars I didn't
even have anymore. It was kind of scary, but I wouldn't let him know that.
Wouldn't let him intimidate me.
He still hadn't said anything, his pulse ticking away in his jaw as he
ground his teeth together. He didn't actually seem angry. More shocked than
anything. His nostrils flared, and he let out a breath. "Are you Timothee
Smith?" he asked, voice low.
"Look, dude, you can have what's left of the money, but that's only, like,
five bucks. I used the rest on food." I shrugged, fingers tight around the
doorknob, ready to slam it shut.
"Answer the fucking question," Devon hissed. He smacked his hand
against the half-opened door, pushing at it, and stepped closer to me.
His eyes held a dangerous glint, and I took a step back. "Jesus. Yes.
That's me." I glared up at him. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Oh, God." Devon closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "Your
mother was Sophie?"
My shoulders tensed, and I frowned a bit. That was a hell of a lot of
information for someone looking for revenge over twenty bucks. Way more
than he would have needed to find me, and it made me uncomfortable. Now
I wasn't quite sure what he needed, and I wanted to shut the door in his face,
but he held it open. "What are you playing at?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Devon whacked the side of his fist against the door, sending it flying
back into the wall where it bounced. "Answer. My. Question."
I nearly jumped back but instead stood my ground, trembling. He really
fucking scared the crap out of me right now. "Fuck. Yes! But if you're
looking for her, you're going to need to go to the cemetery. It's the one
without a marker."
Swallowing hard, Devon reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled
piece of paper, and handed it to me. "Read this."
Demanding weird fucking dude. Accosting me in my own home and
now making me read shit. I smoothed out the paper and read it. Once.
Twice. And then a third time before the words sunk in. The familiar
handwriting of my mother, telling him all these things I didn't want to know.
"What the fuck…."

—Devon
My body buzzed with adrenaline, hot and cold flushes alternating and
flooding my veins while I tried to breathe. Slowly. Evenly. Oh my fucking
God, I’d had sex with my son. My seventeen-year-old son! In the bright
daylight, the resemblance was clear. His hair was dark and mussed up, his
form lean and a bit lanky. Almost like I’d been at his age. I watched him
read, turning pale at the same time, his inhales suddenly so shallow it didn’t
seem like he was breathing anymore.
“This is a joke,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. I didn’t
know what to do. With my hands on the door frame, I stood and waited for
another reaction. Then it came. Those blue eyes flicked up; his face was
white as a sheet. “No way is this real.”
I wished it wasn’t.
But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw myself in him, and it was
fucking creepy. “I’m your father,” I told him quietly, but the words were
more for myself than for him. I had to let it sink in while our eyes locked.
“Oh my God…” Tim flinched when the same realization hit him too. He
backed away, hands going to his hair. The letter fluttered to the ground.
“This is fucking perfect. Exactly what I needed. Fuck!” His voice got
louder and harsher. Before anyone could eavesdrop, I moved and pushed
the door closed behind me. Tim stumbled down the hall, mumbling to
himself, panicking while I was… numb. I felt nothing. Nothing but shock.
“Is this what you want? To be bred by Daddy?” Flashes of last night
returned to me as I followed him. The way he’d knelt on the floor, gazing
up with my cock in his mouth, bobbing his head so eagerly until saliva had
been dripping from his chin. Now, I saw those features Sophie had talked
about. He has your eyes, your hair, your dimples. I walked over to him
where he was perched on the couch, head in his hands, rocking back and
forth. The coffee table was plastered with dirty plates, empty plastic bottles,
and packs of cigarettes. The place was trashed by a boy who couldn’t deal
with his mother’s death. It was quite clear no one was taking care of the kid.
“Listen, we don’t have to make a big deal—” I started calmly because
what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t undo last night, rewind, and ask
him for his actual name at the bar. He’d probably have lied anyway,
which... “Hold on. You’re seventeen?”
Tim straightened up like an arrow, his eyes narrowing in a hard stare.
“That’s what you’re worried about? That I’m not legal?” Tim yelled,
fucking yelled at me, his voice booming through the house. I set my jaw as
he began to laugh hysterically. “You”—he waved his hand at me—“are my
fucking father, man.” He gestured between us, still sitting on the couch,
grinning, and shaking his head. “And you fucked me. You had your dick in
my ass, and you’re hung up on my age?”
“You lied to me, and you fucking stole from me, kid.”
 “Do not call me that!” Tim shot up from his seat, his shoulders squared
and fists balled up. I had a few inches on him, and his slim form didn’t look
like he could do much damage, but he sure was confident. A feisty little
thing. Just as confident as I’d been at his age.
“Think twice about laying a hand on me, son,” I snarled as he ground
his jaw, ready to fight me. “I never wanted to know you—”
“Then why the hell did you come here in the first place?!” The moment
those words spilled out, I’d had enough of his bratty attitude. Last night it
had been such a turn-on, but in the cold light of day, it only got him one
step closer to getting hurt. I snatched up the front of his shirt, twisted my
fists in it, and lifted him to his toes so I could lock my eyes with him. My
forearms and biceps strained as Tim struggled and huffed, trying to squirm
his way out. “I wanted to see what my son looked like, but I never wanted
him to know who I was. Because I ain’t a nice man, and if you don’t quit
with your fucking attitude, I will hurt you. I don’t care that we’re related. If
you disrespect me, you’ll pay for it. Do you understand?”

—Timothee
“You ever heard of the fucking Internet?”
I didn’t know what I was more upset over, the fact that I’d had sex with
someone who was related to me or that my fucking deadbeat dad was here
threatening me. I was honestly pretty convinced it was the latter. Sex was
whatever. Wasn’t like I had to worry about having a baby or anything. I
didn’t care about that. I did care that this asshole had just shown up in my
life and was now threatening me. I’d been right about not wanting to get to
know him all along! “You didn’t need to fucking come here. You could
have fucking Googled me. It’s not like my name is fucking common.”
Devon glared at me, far angrier than he should have been, considering
what he’d done. Probably trying to turn his disgust at what had happened
into anger to protect himself. “Shut the fuck up.” He held my arms and
shook me. “You disrespectful little brat.”
I smacked my hands against his chest and pushed, whipping my body
back and forth as I tried to escape from him. “You shouldn’t have come
here,” I hissed, voice thicker than I wanted it to be.
I was not about to cry in front of him, even though my eyes burned.
This was way too much for me to take in. Way too much. I was getting by
just fine without him. I was managing to cope on my own. Sure, I didn't
know where my next meal would come from, and I couldn't find a job, and I
was probably going to get evicted soon. But it was fine. I was handling it.
Now Devon was here, and he was fucking that all up. My throat closed up,
and I choked, trembling all over. No, please, not a panic attack. Not now. I
hadn't had one in a couple of years.
Devon growled and shoved me away from him with enough force I
stumbled back and landed on the ground. "I told you to stop," he said
darkly. He sank down on the couch.
"I want you out," I snapped at him. I pushed myself up and raked my
fingers through my hair. "You need to go. Get out of my house. I don't want
you here."

—Devon
Tim was nothing but a bratty whirlwind of rage, lashing out and
throwing a tantrum. I’d seen him and even done more than that, so I’d
gotten what I wanted. I didn’t need to hang around, so I did what he asked
me to do. I left.
“Good! Get the fuck outta here!” he yelled after me as I yanked the door
open and left it like that. In front of the house, I rummaged for my pack of
cigarettes and lit one up. Tim hurried after me, but he paused for a moment.
He glared at me, and I studied him. God, he looked so much like me when
he was angry: the fury in his eyes, the tick of his pulse under his jaw. The
thought shot a hot throb of need down to my groin.
“Don’t burn down the house,” I said gruffly, exhaling the smoke. His
answer was immediate. The door slammed shut, shaking in its frame.
On the way home, I was still riding high on adrenaline. That boy was
nothing but trouble.

—Timothee
I couldn't think of any other time I’d ever been so angry. Not when
those assholes at school had beaten the shit out of me for being a “fag,” nor
when I'd caught my first-ever boyfriend cheating on me. And I'd thrown a
proper fit both times. This was a different kind of anger, though. The kind
that settled deep into the pit of my stomach and kind of simmered there. I'd
be going about my day, doing anything but think of Devon, and then
suddenly it would rise, and my throat would tighten. This was why I’d
never wanted to meet him in the first place. I knew he wouldn't want me.
Mom had made it clear he didn't even know about me, and I knew it would
fucking hurt.
I tried to get over it. I really did. But the thing that bothered me the most
was that he'd dismissed me so easily. I was his son. His flesh and blood, but
that hadn't stopped him from leaving, just like everyone else did. Yes, I'd
told him to get the fuck out, but what else did he expect from me? And
maybe, maybe I’d actually wanted him to fight for me. Just a little. To
fucking try. Like fuck! Didn’t he realize the whole reason I’d ended up in
bed with him was Daddy issues? He could have fucking bought me a burger
or something. An "I'm sorry for fucking you" milkshake at the very least.
Instead, I'd gotten nothing.
Nothing but the twenty I’d stolen from him and the stupid letter my
mother had sent him. Several times, I’d almost taken my lighter to it, but I
refrained and instead kept it on the coffee table. His address was on the
envelope. He lived in Nashville, which was hours from here. I could visit
him. Make myself his problem. Make him pay. Make him dad up or
something like that. Mom had asked her friend to take me in, at least until I
graduated, but I didn’t want their help. I didn’t want to be part of this
freaking perfect family that I knew I had no business being in.
All these thoughts were still swirling in my head when I finally got an
eviction notice about a month after I'd met Devon. I'd sold my mother's car
about three days ago, netting a few hundred. Not enough to pay any of the
bills that needed to be taken care of, but enough for a bus ticket and a
printed copy of the directions to his house from the library. My phone had
hardly any credit on it. My plan was stupid and foolish, and he'd probably
just kick me out onto the street, but at least then I'd be somewhere other
than this hellhole. If it came down to it, I could always whore myself out for
money in the city. It was better than whatever lay in store for me in my
hometown.
I didn't have much to pack. A duffle bag and a backpack held all my
things. I managed to bum a ride from my neighbor, and at nearly midnight,
I was boarding the Greyhound bus to Nashville. No looking back. No
second thoughts. I was going to do this.
 And Daddy… Daddy was in for a big fucking surprise.

It was a long fucking ride, and I didn’t sleep much because I was constantly
afraid someone was going to take my shit. I didn’t have much of anything,
but the money in my wallet was the last I had. I didn’t need to doze off and
have someone decide it would be a good idea to rob me. Like I had robbed
him. I wanted to have a bit of a backup plan in case Devon kicked me out
on the streets. I wasn’t completely crazy or irresponsible. Just mostly.
Something I was now sure I got from my dear old dad.
That ass.
The sun was rising by the time the bus pulled into the depot and I was
able to get out. My whole body ached, and I was in desperate need of a
shower. I smelled like strangers and travel, and I hated it. Standing on the
curb, I rummaged through my backpack until I found the directions I had
printed out. Devon didn’t live too far from the depot, about a forty-minute
walk or so, according to my papers. I could do that easily. Even if my ass
was tingling and asleep.
This was the time of day when the streets were starting to clear as
respectable people went about their business, pretending there weren’t
awful things happening at night. At least that was how it was in most
places. The neighborhood I was walking in would always be scummy.
Questionable-looking women hung around, and I didn’t get more than ten
minutes into my walk when I saw a drug deal going down. Kind of
reminded me of home, but on a much larger and grittier scale.
Devon’s neighborhood wasn’t much better. A gaggle of gangbangers sat
out on the front stoop of his building, smoking something that was very
clearly not a cigarette. As I approached, they stared up at me . One of them,
a bigger guy with tattoos covering his arms, quirked an eyebrow. “Can I
help you with something, pretty boy?”
“I need to get past,” I said, nodding up toward the steps. “Please.” The
last thing I wanted to do was get in a fight with people who might be
packing.
“Why?” The man rose to his feet and sneered at me, looking me over.
“You lost or something?”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I pursed my lips instead. “I’m
looking for Devon Namaro. He should live here.”
 The man smirked at that and took a step to the side. “Oh, I see what this
is.” He clucked his tongue and nodded to the men who scooted over enough
to let me through. Hands full with my duffle bag, I climbed the stairs. “Tell
Dev we said hi, pretty boy. If your mouth isn’t full by then.”

—Devon
“Yes, I’ll be there at eleven. Yeah...sure, hold on, some asshole is
banging on the door.” I pulled my phone from my ear and strutted over to
the shaking door. Thud, thud, thud. I only wore sweatpants, no shirt, no
socks; it was too hot for that shit anyway. After returning home from my
disastrous little family reunion, I’d settled back into work. I needed the cash
to pay off my debt, the bail money Steven, the crime boss I worked for, had
coughed up for me in my early twenties. I had another 50k to go, and then
I’d be a free man.
“Daaaaddyyy!” I heard just when my hand connected with the
doorknob. I froze. No fucking way. The tone and voice were familiar, but it
had been weeks without any contact, and I’d been successfully ignoring
what had happened between my son and me. And yet his voice echoed
through me, making my skin prickle.
I dragged the door open, the bottom scraping across the carpet of my
apartment. There he stood in all his glory. Tall and lean, a dusting of stubble
on his jaw. Timothee lifted one eyebrow, the side of his hand about to
hammer down on the door again. “Surprise, it’s a boy.”
I blinked, then blinked again. What the fuck. “I gotta call you back,” I
told Marvin on the phone and ended the call before he could say anything
else.
“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” Tim snapped. He hooked his fingers
into the loops of his jeans so casually it was almost comical.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Cocking out his hip, he crossed his arms over his chest and pursed his
lips. “Rude.”
“I mean it. What the hell—”
“I heard you,” Tim cut in as I scanned him over. “Suppose you won’t
believe me if I say I’m on a school trip?” I glared at him and stepped a little
closer. He had dark rings under his eyes, and he smelled like sweat and
hours upon hours of travel. “The nice man outside told me to tell you hi,”
Tim informed me in a high, chirpy voice.
“Shit,” I hissed, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him
inside. No one could know about Tim, or he’d be in serious danger. And I
didn’t need that. Anyone remotely related, or in this case blood-related, to
me was a complication I didn’t have time for.
I pushed the door shut and locked it quickly. Tim looked around my
shithole of an apartment, just one room with a kitchen counter, wardrobe,
bed, and a small windowless bathroom to the right side.
“Nice.”
“What are you doing here?” I repeated gruffly.
“Welllll.” Tim eased his backpack off his shoulders and let it plop on the
floor next to him, together with the duffle bag he had with him like he’d
already decided he could stay here. Fuck no. “Let’s see.” The little shit was
drawing this out. Seconds ticked by until I took a small step toward him and
he finally continued, “I’m your underage son who you fucked, and now I’m
your problem.” He shrugged. Fucking shrugged. His eyes glittered, and he
cocked his head, never missing my gaze.
“Are you threatening me?” I snarled, hands balling into fists. But Tim
just chuckled.
“No, I’m just stating the facts. Did you know it’ll be another three
months until I turn eighteen? Isn’t that nice…” Fuck. My. Life.
“What do you want?”
“I need a place to stay.”
I snorted and retreated from the air around him, backing off toward the
kitchen counter. “No can do.”
“But, Daddy.” I flashed him a glare at the mocking tone in his voice and
carded my fingers through my hair. Then, all of a sudden, he changed
course. “Look, Dev. That’s what they call you, right?” He paused for effect
but could tell I wasn’t going to answer. “I’m broke, and I’ve got no place
else to go. Lemme stay until I figure my shit out, yeah?”

—Timothee
Devon pursed his lips. It was clear he still wasn’t hearing what I was
saying. It was going to be a tough sell, and I’d already prepared myself for
rejection. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight for a place to stay, but it
also meant I was more than expecting that I’d have to find a park to sleep in
or something. Maybe the “nice” guys out front were into that, and I’d be
able to get some money from them. Or they’d kick my ass. That would be a
good welcome to the city.
I walked over to his shitty bed, plopped down on it, and stretched my
legs. All I wanted was a shower, pajamas, and a blanket to curl up with. I
was fucking exhausted, and after sitting down, I really didn’t know if I was
going to be able to move. “It’s not like you’re going to have to take care of
me,” I told him, shaking my head. I ran my fingers through my greasy hair,
making a face. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was, like, fucking
ten. I don’t need supervision. I just need a place to crash.”
“No,” Devon said firmly, hands on the counter as he watched me
cautiously. Useless fucking father. My mother’s parents had abandoned her
when she’d gotten pregnant with me, making it clear they didn’t approve
that she’d had me at such a young age. Really, my mother had been the only
good thing in my life and now? Now she’d been taken away too. I didn’t
know what I’d done in a past life to end up with the family I had, but it was
starting to feel really unfair.
I shifted on the bed, resting my elbows on my knees and looking up at
him. “C’mon, dude,” I said. “Mom never asked anything of you, and now
you can’t let me sleep on your fucking floor? I’m not asking for money or
food or shit like that. I’ll find a way to take care of it myself. I just need… a
home or something.”
“You had a home back in New Carlisle,” Devon stated, eyes narrowed.
I scoffed. “I got evicted. The house is gone. My mom’s car is gone.
Everything is gone. This”—I gestured toward my backpack and duffle bag
—“is literally all I have.”
Devon’s jaw clenched, and he turned away from me. He crossed his
arms over his chest, giving me a nice view of the tattoos spread across his
back and the muscles working in his shoulders. “Take a shower. You
fucking stink,” he finally said. “And you can crash here tonight. Tomorrow,
you’re going to have to figure out something else to fucking do. I don’t
need a fucking kid weighing me down. So you better spend today finding
something else to do with yourself.”
It hurt more than I would ever let him know. But of course, this was
how it was going to be. This was what I’d been afraid of all along, meeting
my father and having him reject me. Like my grandparents. I ground my
teeth together and nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Thanks, Dad,” I mumbled.
I got up from the bed and went over to my duffle bag, unzipped it and
grabbed my pajamas and a little bag with my toiletries in it. Just some
shaving cream, a cheap razor, and not much else. Tucking everything under
my arm, I headed to the coffin of a bathroom and shut the door behind me.
Almost the moment it closed, there was a loud banging like Devon had hit
something and then the front door opening and closing.
Sighing, I started the water to get it warm and went over to the little
medicine cabinet mirror. I lathered up my face and shaved carefully. Some
people, like Devon, could pull off that scruffy look, but I looked fucking
stupid with it. I knew that.
Once I was finished, I rinsed my face off, stripped, and stepped into the
shower. It was tiny, and the water wasn’t quite hot, but it felt amazing after
all that time I spent on the bus. I used Devon’s shampoo and his soap to
wash up, staying under the water until it got cold and only then getting out.
Towels were under the sink, and I used one to dry off, dripping water all
over the bathroom floor. That done, I left the towel behind on the floor and
changed into my pajamas. I yawned. I needed sleep before doing anything
else.

—Devon
Letting Tim stay in my apartment was a bad fucking idea. Especially
because he’d stolen from me the first time we were together. He wasn’t to
be trusted. Like father, like son. How fucking perfect. I made a few calls to
close friends but never once mentioned who Tim really was. I claimed a
friend’s kid showed up on my doorstep and I needed someone to take him.
But none of my so-called friends had room for him. Not even a couch. Just
like me. He was going to sleep in my bed. With me. Luckily, I had to do a
job tonight, and I wouldn’t be home for hours.
I wasn’t an asshole, all right? The boy had no other option than to come
to me, but I knew that if he hung around, he’d be in danger sooner or later.
And that, more than anything else we’d done, worried me.
So after exhausting all those possibilities and spending an hour calling
everyone I knew who could help, I gave up. I certainly wouldn’t leave him
alone in my apartment. I’d have to lock him up while I was gone to make
sure he couldn’t open the door to someone who wanted to know who he
was. That would be his death sentence, I was sure of it.
When I returned to my place, Tim was curled up under the covers, on
his side, his breathing shallow. I snapped the door shut. He jumped.
“Jesus,” he exhaled with a groan.
“Not quite,” I said and remembered my words that night we were
together…
“I’m not God or Jesus. I’m the devil, here to take your sweet little soul
and paint it black.”
The memory made chills prickle over my skin. I turned the doorknob
and walked over to the fridge. I sifted through it for something edible
without even caring about the noise I made. It was better for him not to like
me, not to get attached. I could feel him watching me, his gaze searing right
through my skin and making me feel hot all over. I took out the milk and
then went for the almost empty cereal box next to the stove. That would
have to do for now.
“You hungry?” I asked as I snatched up a bowl out of the cupboard
above the counter.
“Nuh,” he replied. My pillow and sheets rustled as he shifted.
When I turned around, he had closed his eyes again, head tilted back,
his breathing back to shallow inhales and soft exhales. He looked peaceful
and not like the brat I’d gotten to know. I poured the milk into the bowl
with cereal, grabbed a spoon, and then sat down at the kitchen table by the
only window in this shitty fucking place. From there, I watched him closely.
Tim’s nose twitched. His arms were wrapped around the pillow on the
bed, the rest of the sheets draped around his hips. Resting my ankle on my
knee, I ate in silence; I couldn’t stop watching him. The way his chest rose
and fell filled me with a calmness I’d rarely ever felt before. I wasn’t used
to anyone spending the night. I didn’t like it. It made me feel uneasy when
someone was lying right next to me. Their breathing usually annoyed me
off, and if they pressed themselves against me, their heartbeat made me
fucking nervous.
I hated it.
But as Tim slept in my bed, with his back toward the wall, leaving
plenty of room for me to join him, I wondered if sleeping next to him would
really be so bad.
—Timothee
I wasn't sure how long I'd slept for, but by the time I woke up, the sun
was high in the sky and the apartment was fucking hot. Too fucking hot.
Groaning, I kicked the sheets off me and stretched out with my arms spread
over the bed like I was playing at being a crucified Jesus. "Christ," I
mumbled, scrubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I felt better, even if my
stomach was grumbling at me for not feeding it. "So fucking hot."
"It's summer. What the fuck do you expect?"
Another groan and I rolled over to bury my face in the pillow. Right, I
was with my father. I'd almost forgotten, but thanks to his snarky comment,
the reality of the situation came crashing back down on me. I was
essentially homeless, with little money, and a dad who didn't want me
around. I’d told him I would figure something out, but honestly… I didn't
know how I was going to do that. I didn't have any connections, didn't know
anybody, and really had no marketable skills. Well, that wasn't true. I was
great at giving head and taking dick, but I hoped that would be a last resort.
My stomach growled again, and I sighed. Food first. Then I could worry
about everything else. I rolled back over and pushed myself up, eyeing
Devon carefully. He sat at his kitchen table, papers spread out in front of
him, and he was making notes or something. Planning how to dispose of my
body when I frustrated him enough maybe?
He looked up at me, lips perpetually tugged into a frown now that I was
around. "What?" he snapped.
"Do the pizza guys deliver to this shithole? I'm fucking starving," I told
him, placing a hand on my stomach. It had probably been a day, God, two
days, since I actually ate something.
Devon rolled his eyes, then bent back over his work. "They do," he said.
I slipped off the bed, padded over to him, and peered down at his
papers. It looked like floor plans and lists, but before I could look too
closely, he covered them up with his hands. "This doesn’t concern you."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone. I was almost out of minutes,
but the pizza was probably worth it. I managed to find a place nearby that
was cheap, and I ordered a large pizza, breadsticks, and a drink, giving
Devon's address. After being informed that it would take thirty minutes, I
went to sit back on the bed and watched Devon. "So… what exactly do you
do for a living?" I asked.

—Devon
“None of your business, is it?”
“Well, you’re my daaad… so…” The muscles of my jaw ticked, and my
brows furrowed. Tim had crisscrossed his legs, fingers looped around his
ankles, swaying back and forth. “C’mon, I’m just a silly little kid, aren’t I? I
won’t tell.”
I scoffed and shuffled all my papers back onto a stack, then pushed
them aside. I didn’t need him to see what I was working on. Floorplans of
the house I was going to rob tonight. Perhaps I could grab a diamond or two
for myself and sell them on the black market. Although last time I’d tried
that, it had bitten me in the ass.
“I’m not gonna tell you anything ‘cause you’re gonna get outta here
tomorrow.” Tim’s eyes turned dark, and his body stilled his initial, soft
swaying movement. “Listen, I got nothin’ against you, kid—”
“Save it,” Tim snapped. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. Shoulda
known you’d be a fucking terrible father.”
I inhaled slowly and curled my fingers around the edge of the table,
leaning back. “Watch it.”
“Or what?” His voice pitched a little higher, and so did his gaze. He
shot me that god-awful cold stare again, unblinking and dark. “Gonna kick
me out before I even get some food in me?” he snarled, then scoffed. My
God, why couldn’t he have slept forever?
I pushed the chair back. It squeaked over the tiles in the kitchen area.
Worn down, the edges chipped, much like me. “Cut it out before I drag your
sorry ass outta here, got it?” I jabbed my forefinger at him, and he sneered
at me. Fuck, if I wasn’t careful, I’d be losing my cool within the next thirty
seconds. He really was a brat.
“Yes, Daddy.” Oh. Hell. I snapped at once and took a couple of strides
over to him. He scrambled back on the bed, squealing and grinning. I
reached for him, but he escaped me, dodging me on his knees on the bed.
He laughed and tried to get away from me until I caught one of his ankles
and hauled him back. I dragged him to the edge of the mattress, then
grabbed his forearm, where his pulse fluttered on his wrist. “Fuck!” Tim
cried, kicking his legs out to get away from me. I snatched up his other
wrist and brought them together in front of him. This wasn’t a game
anymore. His eyes went wide.
“You little shit,” I forced out between gritted teeth. I tightened my grip
on him, and Tim mewled, trying to squirm away as he’d done before. I was
towering over him while his forearms were pressed to his chest, head tilted
back as he gazed up at me. “I told you not to call me that anymore.”
Because it made me hot all over. Because I wanted to ravish him, bend him
over, yank down his shorts, and plunge into him, fuck him hard and fast and
deep.
Tim licked his lips and trapped the bottom one between his teeth. “And
why’s that?”

—Timothee
"Don't fucking ask questions. If I tell you to do something, you fucking
do it." Devon's expression was a thunderstorm in and of itself. Furious and
angry and almost a little hungry. Was he thinking about what we had done?
About how I'd called him Daddy when I'd begged him to fuck me? Was he
still turned on by the idea, even when he knew I was his son? If he was, I
could probably use it to my advantage.
I twisted my wrists against his grip, trying to pull myself free. "You
didn't seem to mind me calling you that before," I stated.
He tugged at me harshly, shaking me. "You need to learn to shut the
fuck up when I tell you to."
We were going in circles. Each argument the same as the one before it.
He wanted me to shut up and respect him, but why would I ever do that? He
had done nothing for me and was doing everything he could not to have me
in his life. So why should I care what he wanted? If he was going to kick
me out regardless, I might as well have some fun.
"Does my tone bother you?? Do you prefer it when I say it differently?
More like Daddy, oh God, Daddy." I moaned out the word, closing my eyes
and tilting my head back like I was actually writhing in pleasure.
Devon tightened his grip, so hard he was probably leaving bruises. He
yanked me closer. One hand came up to my hair and pulled my head back.
"You're playing a really fucking dangerous game, kid," he snarled. I opened
my eyes. The expression on his face was genuinely terrifying. Eyes dark
and teeth bared like he wanted to rip out my throat. "Choose your next
words very carefully because they might be your last."
My eyes narrowed, and I matched his expression. "You can f—"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A loud pounding on the door interrupted what I was about to say. Devon
tensed up. His eyes went wide, darting around. He let go of me and headed
over toward the door. "Who the fuck is it?" he called
"Pizza delivery!"
Devon noticeably relaxed. Then his face settled back into his usual
pissy expression. "It's your fucking food," he scoffed, stepping away.
I clambered off the bed and grabbed my wallet so I could pay the man
and soon I was in possession of delicious, greasy food. I took it to the bed,
not wasting any time opening the box and ripping into my first slice of
pizza. Devon was back at the table, grabbing his papers and grumbling to
himself. "You expecting the police or something?" I asked him through a
mouthful of food. "You got real nervous when the delivery guy knocked."
He just scoffed. "I'm leaving. Clean up your mess when you're done
eating and don't get crumbs in my bed," he said, not even glancing at me.
"Remember, you are gone tomorrow. So enjoy."
Without another word, he turned from the table and headed out of the
apartment, shutting the door firmly.
"Thanks, Dad," I mumbled to the empty room.

—Devon
I left Tim and locked him in as I’d planned. I had dinner at a small diner
across the road and studied the floor plans a little more. I could use some
peace and quiet to get my act together. Yesterday, Marvin had sent over
photos of the house and doors so I could take a look at them too. I usually
had everything necessary in my car, but it was good to know what I needed
to take with me when I headed in.
Back in the day, I was known for picking pockets, which is why the
gang in town had taken an interest in me. I was young and foolish, loving
the attention of all those big, bad men. Now I was one of them. If someone
crossed my path at night, I felt them flinch. Perhaps it was my tattoos or the
cold look in my eyes. Marvin said the air around me would freeze up in
seconds if I locked my gaze on someone.
 He was waiting for me at the curb a block away from the house,
bumping fists and giving me a couple more instructions. Marvin was a
small, chubby guy with red hair and a copper-colored mustache. He was
also a decade younger than me.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” I grunted in reply, eyeing the building in the distance on the
well-lit street. The house was a big box, with a fence around it. Not an easy
job, but one I could get done. It was a little after eleven, and if everything
went well, I’d get back home before three in the morning. Of course, this
time I wouldn’t go home to an empty bed, wouldn’t be able to stretch out
and recover or possibly call Brandon, my very eager fuck buddy.
Instead, I'd go home to a brat I couldn't seem to get rid of. A brat who
seemed to push all my buttons.

—Timothee
Devon didn't come home until well after I was in bed, and I kind of
enjoyed that. I was used to being on my own, and I kept myself entertained
easily enough. I ate half of the pizza and half of the breadsticks until my
stomach hurt. Then I spent most of the rest of the day napping and
sketching in bed. I knew I should really go and look for some place to stay
or some way to make some money. But I was sleepy and lazy. It was
something that I could do later. It was a future me problem.
When Devon hadn't come home, I ate cold pizza for a late dinner and
took another shower. This time I didn't bother with pajamas, pulling on a
pair of briefs and climbing into bed. The apartment was fucking hot, and it
would be even hotter if Devon came home and decided to sleep next to me.
Might as well be comfortable. It wasn't like he hadn't seen me in less
before.
The door shutting woke me up. I shifted around in bed and hugged the
pillow closer to my chest. It was dark outside the window, but I wasn't sure
how late it was or how long he'd been gone. Closing my eyes, I settled back
down and listened to Devon moving around the apartment. He went to the
fridge, opened it, and removed something. The hiss of a can opening and
then silence for a moment, followed by a slight rummaging sound. A lighter
clicked, and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the room as he made his
way over to the bathroom and shut the door. The sink ran for a while, and
Devon relieved himself. Then the door opened, and he was back.
The clink of his belt being undone was loud in the darkness. Then the
swoosh of fabric sliding over skin as he stripped. He yanked the sheets back
and climbed into bed, the mattress sinking beneath him. I listened to his
breathing, the occasional deep inhales and then exhales as he smoked the
rest of his cigarette. The bed was small, and his legs brushed against me
when he moved.
With a sigh, I rolled over and peered up at him. The light of the moon
shining through the window was just enough to see by. He was sitting
against the wall, staring out into the dark room with his cigarette between
his lips. "Can I have one?" I asked him, voice hoarse from sleep.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so," he replied simply.
I rolled my eyes and hummed. "Are you sure I have to go tomorrow?"
He nodded. "I meant what I said, kid. Tonight only. You have to leave
this place."
"But... I've been thinking about something," I said. "I can stay here and
—"
"No," he cut me off.
"Lemme finish," I huffed. I pushed myself up onto my elbow. With a
grin, I danced my free hand across his bare thigh, toward the edge of his
briefs. "I can stay here and earn my keep. I'll stay out of your hair pretty
much all the time, and then when you need a little relief... well, I'll be here.
What do you think?"

—Devon
I’d killed a man.
I robbed people for a living.
I was a bad, fucked-up man.
But I’d never whored myself out. Tim, though, didn’t seem to have a
problem with that. His hand snaked up until his fingertips grazed along the
side of my flaccid cock, stroking carefully, lightly, while he watched my
reaction in the darkness. I inhaled the smoke and ticked my cigarette off on
the ashtray I’d placed on the nightstand beside the bed. The longer I stayed
silent, the more confident he grew. His warm hand closed over the length of
my cock, squeezing it gingerly.
This was... fuck, I was at a loss for words. My own flesh and blood, my
son, was fingering my cock. His knuckles brushed along the side of it and
coaxed it to grow thicker, longer, harder. Now that I knew who he was, this
was a whole different ball game of fucked up.
“You’re offering me your ass for a place to stay?” I said as calmly as I
could, bringing the cigarette back to my lips. The heel of his hand pressed
against my balls and rubbed slowly. I couldn’t even deny that my dick was
suddenly interested.
“Yeah…” Tim breathed, then swallowed.
“You’re unbelievable.” The words came out with a chuckle, smoke
slipping from my lips. Tim’s hand stilled, its heat still radiating through my
groin, making blood pulse south. I was already filling out the tight fit of my
briefs, but I was nowhere near rock hard just yet. It was amusing, really,
how we’d ended up here.
“And you’re a fucking asshole,” Tim hissed at me. That little shit. In the
blink of an eye, I found his throat, my hand closing down on it as I pinned
him to the mattress. Tim’s eyes widened, bright in the darkness as he
clasped at my forearm. I loomed over him with the ball of my hand digging
into the sheets, tilting my cigarette off the fabric, the other weighing him
down.
“I could take what I want right now and toss you out like garbage.
Didn’t think this through, did ya?” Tim struggled, but one of my shins was
draped across his thighs, making sure he couldn’t knee me in the groin, and
his desperate little movements were in vain.
“Fuck. You.”
I brought my cigarette back to my lips, still pressing him down and
clenching my hand around his throat. He craned his neck, jaw tense. I didn’t
know what I wanted to do with him, but I sure as hell didn’t want him
around me anymore. This was no place for a boy like him. And truth be
told, his offer sounded much better than I wanted him to know.

—Timothee
There was a very good chance Devon could kill me right here. Despite
us being related, only technically, I didn't know him. I didn’t know anything
about him. He had absolutely no attachment to me, and he’d already made it
very clear that he was not a good man. Hell, he was pretty much choking
me. Casual as can be like this was something he did every day. A trickle of
fear ran through me, and I licked my lips as I looked up at him. Self-
preservation mode kicked in. I needed to de-escalate the situation. As soon
as possible.
"C'mon," I whined softly, sliding a hand up his tense arm as I wiggled
beneath him. "You're hard, but you're acting like you don't want it. That's no
fun."
My nails dragged across his tattooed flesh, and I lowered my eyes,
swallowing. I could be what he needed. What he wanted. And I could save
myself with that. I was good at that.
I slid my hand from his arm and found the front of his briefs, stretching
my arm out so I could grab his cock through the material. I squeezed it,
kneaded it, trying to get him fully hard. Maybe then he would think with his
cock and not his head. Then it would be okay. "You can fuck me like you
did before," I purred. "I can call you Daddy again. You liked that. Or if you
want something else, I can do that too. Sir. Master. Anything you want."
Tugging at the material, I managed to get it low enough so I could wrap
my fingers around his bare cock. My thumb teased over the head, and his
hand tightened around my throat for a brief second, making me whimper.
"Fuck me, and then you can come all over me. Mark me, and then I'll lick
your cock clean."
I was trying to seduce my biological father, but I was surprisingly okay
with it. It wasn't like he loved me or cared about me, and I pretty much
hated him. So what did it matter if he fucked me? If we slept together? We'd
already crossed that line once. So why not cross it again?

—Devon
I would be lying if I said that he didn’t turn me on, that he didn’t
manage to make my dick steel hard. Aching for more. And when he peeled
back my briefs and my cock sprung free, right into his hand, I couldn’t help
it. I had to ease my hand from his throat, knowing he could try and hurt me
if I didn’t stay alert. But my vision was hazy at the edges, my thoughts
foggy with arousal…
 Tim twisted his hand across the head of my cock, then slid his fingers
down and gripped its base. His fingertips teased my balls, almost tickling
the skin there. I shivered, and grunting, I slid my knee from his legs to
between his thighs and steadied myself over him. I ditched the cigarette in
the ashtray, eyes barely open.
“What shall I call you?” he cooed, softly, tentatively. I didn’t know. I’d
never cared about details like that. “Sir?” His warm grip seeped right
through the girth of my shaft, settling in my balls. I was right above him
now, my hand moving completely off his neck while he stroked me slowly,
like an animal he wanted to soothe. “Master?” No reaction still. And then
he breathed, “Daddy?” My dick flexed, a jolt of electricity rippling through
my veins. I shuddered like a horse trying to shake off a fly, my eyes
squeezed tight. Fuck.
“There we go,” Tim whispered. His other hand dragged down my briefs
and cupped my balls carefully. They were full and heavy. All week, I’d
been considering calling a fuckbuddy of mine, but then Tim had shown up.
“You wanna fuck me?” he asked quietly. I opened my eyes. His features
were soft in the moonlight. My vision swam and got fuzzier with each
passing downward glide of his hand, but his eyes... and the curl of his lips. I
groaned. My arms tensed as I bracketed him in with my body, still as a
statue on top of him. Not fighting it nor encouraging him. I shook my head.
I didn’t want to fuck him. I was too tired, too full of hovering sleep. Once I
came, I’d be out like a light.
“Talk to me,” I said hoarsely and dropped onto my elbows, fingers
clenching into fists beside his head. I liked to hear his voice and the things
he had to say, in bed, anyway.
“Mmm.” Tim shifted underneath me, gliding his thumb across the tip of
my dick, slicking over the beads of precum. “That night, when you fucked
me, I imagined you’d pound me without a condom. Really breed me…” A
stream of curses left my lips but got lost in the crook of his shoulder. He
smelled like my soap and shampoo and a hint of salt. I nipped at his neck to
taste him and rolled my hips the faintest bit. “Just imagine how dirty that’d
be, with your cum dripping out of my ass. Jeez.”
His thumb flicked across the wet tip of my cock again. Then he
squeezed the foreskin up and dipped a fingertip in. My eyes rolled back,
and I moaned at how he stretched that skin with his finger, plucking and
playing and gliding it back and forth. “And then you should plug me… with
your seed deep inside me…” Now, it was just a fantasy. Just words to get
me revved up. To get me to the edge of insanity faster. And Jesus Fucking
Christ, it was working. Tim was fucking filthy. A plug to keep my cum
inside him? His father’s fucking cum?
I groaned deep and low, moving my hips in the familiar fucking motion.
I wanted to turn him over, grab his ass, and fuck him open. My muscles
were getting heavy with sleep but buzzing with pleasure. A few rough jerks
would get me to the edge, I knew that, and I felt like Tim knew that too.
Yet he took his time.
His bare chest lay against mine, and his heart battered against my
ribcage.
“Daddy,” he whispered. The flicks of his hand picked up their pace.
Faster, more urgent, rougher—exactly how I liked it. My inhales and
exhales quickened, and the tension within me skyrocketed all at once. My
balls jounced with the fervent jerks of his hand, and he muttered, “I want
that load, c’mon.” Tim turned his head, his breath searing hot, tongue
darting over my earlobe. “Bust that nut, Dad, c’mon.” And that, right there,
fuck, that did it.

—Timothee
Devon's cock was pulsing in my hand, and he yanked at the sheet. He
didn't moan so much as he growled, low and deep in his throat. His hips
jerked hard, thrusting into the tight ring of my hand as cum shot from the
tip and splashed across my stomach and chest. Another spurt and he
grunted, jabbing himself forward again. I kept moving my hand, twisting
my fingers across his cock and squeezing.
"There we go. C'mon. Just like that, Daddy. Gimme. I want it all," I
breathed. My hand moved faster, splattering droplets of cum all over my
stomach.
It seemed like he was never going to stop, even long after I thought he
was finished, his cock was still dribbling cum. I swiped my thumb across
the tip and smirked gently. "Been a while, huh?" I asked him, bringing my
cum-covered hand up and licking at my fingers.
Devon grunted an answer, rolled off me and collapsed back onto the
bed. He didn't even bother tucking his cock away, instead stretching out on
the mattress. "Go clean up," he said, voice heavy with sleep. And with that,
his breathing deepened, and he was out like a light.

—Devon
I squinted my eyes in the morning sunlight and slowly returned to
consciousness. My mouth felt dry and my body heavy, and the air smelled
like sex and spunk. I wanted to roll over, shield myself from the light, but
two hands pinned my hips to the mattress. I blinked my eyes open, and for a
good minute, all I saw was a tousled mop of hair right above my crotch.
And then I felt it.
Slippery and warm. The tip of a tongue.
“Fuck,” I growled. My thighs tensed, and my morning wood filled and
twitched at the surprising contact. Tim was on his stomach, leaning over me
with his hands firmly planted on my hips as though he wanted me to stay
exactly where I was. Propped up on my elbows, I watched him, sleep drunk,
my head slowly catching up with my dick, which was being lathered with
attention. What the hell was happening? Was I still dreaming?
Maybe. Because Timothee moaned like he loved it, and I ate it right up.
My skin flared with heat, and shivers spread from my shoulders to my chest
and stomach. His head bobbed while he slurped and swallowed. Holy
fucking shit.
I dropped back against the pillow, opening my legs a little further. It was
an invitation I didn’t think I’d ever give. Not to him, my son. But this
wasn’t real, was it? Tim scrambled up between my thighs, his lips swollen
and red, eyes fixated on my slick, stiff dick.
Without hesitation, he dove back down, slid my length between his lips,
and opened his mouth further and took all of me in. I grunted at the heat of
his mouth and the silky feel of his tongue swirling around the tip whenever
he pulled up again. His hands pushed my thighs further apart, and he sucked
me down, then tugged on my balls and rolled them between his fingers.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s good,” I rasped out. I brought my hands to the back
of his head and tangled my fingers in his hair. It had the perfect length to
get a good grip, perfect to shove him down until his lips were sealed around
the base of my dick as he gagged. “Shhh,” I breathed out as he started to
struggle for air, nails scratching across the inside of my open thighs. I
watched him with half-lidded eyes… how he squeezed his eyes shut and
tears rolled across his cheeks. His throat contracted at the intrusion, and he
spluttered saliva. His pleading eyes shot open.
Then I let go.
Tim yanked himself back, his lips deep red, spit dripping from his chin,
eyes glossy. But he didn’t pull away. All he did was sit back on his heels for
a moment, flashing me with his hard-on beneath the fabric of his briefs.
Somewhere along the line, I realized this was real. Not a dream. Not a
fantasy. Tim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sucked in a deep
breath, and then descended again. Back for more. “Fuck,” I rumbled as he
lavished me with little licks to the tip of my cock, making it flex and jump
against my heated skin. It wouldn’t take much more to make me come right
down his throat. I was vibrating with my growing orgasm, my body
twitching of its own accord. “You hungry, kid?”
His eyes flicked up while he nipped at my cock. “Yes, Daddy.”

—Timothee
I sucked his dick as if my life depended on it. And it kind of did. I’d
woken up, half-hard, and had rolled over. Devon was still sleeping, looking
almost pleasant with his face slack and absent of his usual shitty expression.
He’d kicked off his briefs during the night, and his morning wood had
started to rise. The hand job last night had worked to calm him down. I
hoped this blow job would convince him that I could be useful to keep
around. After all, what guy wouldn’t want to be woken up with someone
mouthing at their cock? Plus, I was cheaper than a sex doll.
Devon brought his hands back to my hair and gave a sharp pull. “Be a
good boy then and take your breakfast,” he purred.
Taking a deep breath, I took his cock back into my mouth and closed
my eyes. I pressed down but wasn’t given much of a chance to take him
farther. Devon snapped his hips up and forced my head down. The tip of his
cock breached the back of my throat. He liked making me choke, liked
making my lungs burn and my eyes water. My nose brushed against his
lower stomach, the hair tickling it as I tilted my head to the side. He didn’t
budge, and my throat pulsed around him.
It was getting hard to breathe again. My fingers clawed at his thighs, but
he didn’t pull away. One roll of his hips, biceps trembling from how hard he
pushed me down, and he was coming. Thick gushes shot down my throat,
making me gag. Devon rocked his hips just faintly, pumping his cock into
my throat. I moaned. My head spun, and I nearly blacked out from the lack
of air until he finally pulled away. I gasped and panted hard, and strands of
saliva dripped from my mouth onto his cock. Devon’s cock was way too
thick for me. Too much. I liked the way it felt inside me, and I did like the
way he choked me on it, but, Jesus Christ, it fucking hurt.
Devon dropped his hand to my jaw, squeezed it, and pulled my head
back. My vision was blurred and swimming with tears, but I could still see
him. Smirking darkly, so relaxed it was obscene. “Clean me up. Then clean
yourself up,” he said. He smacked my face with a loud clap, then let his
hand fall away from me and rummaged for his cigarette beside the bed. “I
want you dressed and gone in thirty minutes.”
“But…” My voice was hoarse and I brought the sides of my fists down
on his thighs in frustration. “Please. I can do whatever you want. You know
I’m good at it. Please.” I didn’t like begging, but I was sure I’d like the
street even less.
Shrugging, Devon lit up and leaned back against the pillows. “Don’t
care. I told you that you were going to be leaving. It’s time for you to go,
kid.”
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and let out a shaky breath.
My teeth ground together, and I shook my head. “Thanks for nothing,” I
mumbled, climbing off the bed. “Absolutely nothing.”
I didn’t bother cleaning his dick. I went into the bathroom and washed
my face with cold water, refusing to meet my own gaze in the mirror. When
that was done, I dried off with a towel and headed into the other room
again. I didn’t look at Devon, who was still smoking on the bed. I grabbed
some clothes from my duffle bag and put them on quickly. Then I packed
up all my shit, got my backpack on, and tossed my bag over my shoulder.
Pausing at the door, I waited for a beat to see if Devon would change his
mind. If he would let me stay.
“There’s a youth center or something in the city,” he said. I couldn’t
believe how much it hurt. I had just lost my mother and now? Now my own
father was kicking me out. Devon said nothing else, and I opened the door.
One more beat of silence. Fine, fuck him.
The same group of men was on the stairs outside. It was like they’d never
left, even though an entire day had passed. They were smoking, just like
Devon, eyes glazed and red-rimmed, and the moment the leader saw me
again, he smirked. “Hey, it’s the pretty boy,” he cooed, tone teasing. “Dev
already bored with you?”
Biting on my lower lip, I glanced back up toward the apartment and
shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.”
The man clucked his tongue and looked me over. “Now how could he
get bored of such a perky little ass?” he asked, rising to his feet. He swayed
a bit as he headed toward me. One of his hands came out, landed next to my
head, and trapped me against the front door of the complex. “Or maybe the
old man can’t get it up anymore.”
“Just bored, I think,” I said quietly, turning my eyes away from him. I
hated how much it actually hurt me that Devon had rejected me so
thoroughly. I was... alone. My mother was dead, and Devon might as well
have been dead. Fucking prick.
“Aw, well, if he doesn’t want you anymore…” The man leaned in close,
and I shut my eyes against the waft of smoke that came with him. “I’m sure
me and my friends do. What do you think?”

—Devon
Timothee was gone. I had my peace and quiet back. No one to share my
bed with, no one lingering around this shitty, tiny place. No one to worry
about when I wasn’t around.
I got off the bed, showered quickly, and washed away all those sins. I’d
told him where he could go. I wasn’t responsible for him. He had made it
clear that he was an adult; he could take care of himself. Still, there was this
nagging voice in the back of my head. He had no one except me. I sifted
through the pockets of my jeans from last night, digging out the small
diamond ring I’d taken with me. Then muffled sounds reached me from
downstairs. It was normal to hear people talking in this big fucking
complex, but these voices were loud and raised. Aggressive. It went on and
on and on, fucking annoying me.
I tugged on a pair of sweatpants, shoved my feet into a pair of boots,
grabbed my keys, and pulled the door open. What the hell was going on?
 I jogged down the set of stairs leading to the front doors, past the
mailboxes and the defective elevators. And there they were. All those men
hovering over him. Timothee. My fucking son. Like hyenas, they caged him
in, licking their lips and chuckling darkly.
“Hey!” I yelled, and Danny turned his head in my direction, his arms on
either side of Tim. “Get the fuck off him, or I will break your face,” I
snarled, my jaw set, fingers fisting around my keys.
Danny scoffed and turned his attention back to Tim, who twisted his
head away from him, grimacing, hair falling into his eyes. His backpack
had tumbled over, and his duffle bag was shoved between his legs. “Didn’t
you say he got bored of you?” Danny cooed as if I couldn’t hear him. “You
got nowhere to go, do you, sweetheart?” Tim didn’t answer but squeezed
his eyes shut in disgust. I stepped closer, my muscles taut and pulse ticking.
Rage flooded through me. Seeing another man touch Tim made my vision
burst red.
“Let. Him. Go.”
But instead, Danny clucked his tongue. He cupped Tim’s jaw and
yanked his face back in his direction. “He’s got a pretty mouth I could make
use of… and his ass ain’t half bad either.” Tim, chin trembling, clenched his
hands into tight fists at his sides. He couldn’t do anything but squirm. He
didn’t stand a chance. Adrenaline swarmed through my veins, mixing with
anger and a kind of protectiveness I’d never felt before.
I didn’t want anyone to touch my son. No one but me. Tim belonged to
me. Fuck, he really did.
I was on Danny in a flash.
Fucking pounced on him like some kind of out-of-control animal . With
a strength I’d never felt before, I hauled him off my boy, and the crowd
shouted. But then the mood tipped all at once. I had the sharp tip of my key
at the soft spot under Danny’s jaw, pressing against his skin. When he
swallowed, I felt it. And I smelled the booze and smoke on his breath,
trickling over me.
“I’m gonna kill you,” I promised, the deep baritone of my voice
booming through the air. I grabbed the front of his shirt and twisted the
fabric between my fingers. “One more word, one more time,” I hissed.
Everyone else held their breath. Danny held his hands up. Smart guy. Hell, I
was fucking serious, and he could hear it, could feel it.
 A muscle in my jaw ticked at how hard I ground it. “Tim,” I addressed
him while I kept my stare fixed on Danny, the key at his throat, my hand on
his chest. “Get your shit and go upstairs.”

—Timothee
I wasn't sure if I should listen to Devon. He had been the one to cut me
loose in the first place. But I also really didn't want to stay out here with all
these leering guys. They were all bigger than me, stronger, and they fucking
smelled of booze and weed and sweat. Who knew what else they'd been
doing? Strung out and dangerous, and I didn't like my chances against one
of them, let alone five.
I grabbed my bags and hurried back into the apartment complex.
Numbly I walked up the stairs. Devon had left the door ajar. I opened it,
slipped in, and shut it behind me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I slammed my fist into
my thigh, grinding my teeth together anxiously. Devon didn't want me here,
but now he'd gone and saved me. I didn't know what I was going to do if he
kicked me out again. Those guys would be far from friendly a second time
after what Devon had done. I knew that much.
I let my bags fall to the floor, strode to the bed, and sat down cross-
legged. I rested my elbows on my thighs and chewed on my thumbnail
anxiously. This was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.
Noises drifted up from outside, but I didn't listen. Didn't try to peek out
to see what was going on. Eventually, the noises died down, and then heavy
footsteps made their way down the hall, and the door was pushed open.
Devon. Looking completely unruffled. He tossed his keys onto the kitchen
table and headed back over to the bed. He didn't glance over at me as he
stripped down to his boxers. "Move," he said sharply, climbing onto the bed
and nudging me out of the way.
I scooted over so that I was pressed against the wall and watched him
cautiously. "Why did you do that?"
Devon rolled his eyes, settling down on the bed. "Let me get some
sleep."
"But-ow!"
Devon's nudge this time was more of a kick to my side, and I got off the
bed with a frown. "Whatever," I mumbled.
 He didn't acknowledge me again, and I didn't really have anything else
to do. Sighing, I grabbed my beat-up old sketchpad and sat at the table,
waiting for him to wake up so I could ask him why again.

—Devon
“Why?”
“Oh, my God. Can you just shut up?” I’d just rolled onto my back and
opened my eyes after my nap when Tim asked me. He sat at the kitchen
table, doing God knew what.
“I guess I should leave,” he said and scraped his stuff together. I looked
over at him in silence. What should I do? What could I say? Tim stuffed
some papers into his backpack and zipped up. I groaned.
“Quit being so melodramatic and stay.”
“But… why? Why did you even care what happened to me?” His
question sounded sincere, but I couldn’t help but want to throw a pillow at
him. There was no need to talk about this anymore.
“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know,” I growled at him. He had his fingers
looped around the strap of his backpack, standing at the kitchen table. I sat
up and swung my feet on the floor. I carded my fingers through my hair,
then rested my forearms on my thighs, exhaling loudly. “This is no place for
a kid—”
“I’m not a kid,” he said quickly but then snapped his mouth shut when I
shot daggers at him.
“You are. And you’re fucked up. I mean, I’m your father and you jerk
and suck me off? Jesus.” I rubbed my hand over the back of my head while
he stood there, looking at me like he didn’t understand why I’d even
mentioned that. “And I let you…” I whispered.
“It’s not like I know you,” he replied softly. “You’re just some guy I get
off.”
“Only I’m not.”
Tim heaved his backpack up onto the table and plucked at the zipper,
looking down to avoid my gaze. “I’ve got nothing,” I said and gestured
around me. “Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know you existed. I’m not
sure how I can help you out when I don’t have anything myself.” I rarely
ever spoke the truth like that, but right now, this was it. Perhaps I should
make him understand why I’d been such a dick to him.
 I needed to pay off my debt to climb out of the shithole I had dug
myself into when I’d been barely twenty. And Tim? He had even less than
me.
“I can help,” he said. A few seconds ticked by. Then I scoffed. “With
your job. Whatever you do.” I shook my head and got up to stroll over to
the fridge. I needed a drink or something to clear my fucking head. Tim
abandoned his bag on the table and stepped up beside me while I looked
through the mostly empty fridge. “Dad?”
I cut him a look and frowned, the hairs on my arms standing up either
from the cold of the fridge or the tone in his voice, I wasn’t sure. “Don’t
start with this now.”
“It’s true, though,” he whispered. He glided his fingertips over the
waistband of my briefs, then slid to the front. I snatched up his wrist.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Earning my keep.”
I grunted at that, grabbed two sodas, and shut the fridge. “Here.” I
shoved the cool can of soda against his chest. “You can stay if you get
yourself a job to pay for food and stuff. And don’t get in my way. I work
late at night, and I need to sleep.” I strolled over to the table, pulled the
backpack off it, and slouched on the chair, thighs spread. The soda opened
with a ziiiiiishhh, and I took a pull from it. “We clear?”

—Timothee
My shoulders slumped, and I exhaled slowly. "What job?" I asked him.
I wasn't being a pain in the ass. I was dead serious. I didn't know what he
expected me to do other than the sort of thing he had just stopped from
happening. "You know I didn't graduate, right? And no one wants to hire a
seventeen-year-old high school dropout. If they did, I wouldn't have had to
come here. I’m too young to dance. Don't know how to fix shit. Not good
with people… the fucking grocery store wouldn't even hire me. So what?"
Devon glanced at me, and I squeezed my fingers tight around the cold
can. "You’ll find something. This is a different city, so go out and apply for
a job. Got it?” Lowering my eyes, I nodded. "Yeah…"
"Good." Devon turned his attention back to his drink.
I sighed and made my way over to the bed, sat down quietly. After the
pizza, about seventy or eighty bucks were left. It wasn't much when it came
down to it, and the city was fucking expensive, but if I limited the amount
of food I ate, picked only cheap things, and maybe skipped some days
entirely, I could probably manage for a bit while I looked for a job. It was
going to be hard. I didn't even know where to go, and I didn't have
transportation. No money for an Uber or a bus or anything. I just couldn't
afford it.
I fiddled with the top of my soda can, shaking my head to myself. I'd
figure it out. I had to. This was all I had. I had a while before I had to worry
too much. I sighed softly, looking around the room. "Why don't you have a
couch?" I asked.

—Devon
I could tell that Tim wasn’t trying to be difficult. He looked… sort of
devastated, and that did something even to my ice-cold heart. “There’s no
room for a couch,” I said, turning in my seat to him. He had a sullen look
on his face as he stared down at his drink, worrying his bottom lip.
He looked so much like me. Twenty years ago he was me. “Fine.” I
sighed and glanced at my jeans draped across the end of the bed. The one
with the diamond ring in it. That should tide us over for a couple of months.
I wouldn’t be able to knock it off my debt, but at least I wouldn’t have to
look at Tim’s sad face. “I’ll find you something, and I guess, being your
father and all, I should make sure you get to eat. You’re freakin’ skinny. But
if I get you a job, you’ll do it. No complaints, all right?”
Tim stared at me, eyes wide. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I repeated dryly and finished off my drink. “I need to get
some money, and then we can get something to eat. You up for that?”
“Yes, sir!” Tim piped up, his bright blue eyes big and crinkling at the
sides. When he smiled, the dimples on his cheeks deepened. It was a good
smile. One that probably resembled Sophie’s more than mine. Because I
hardly ever smiled.

—Timothee
It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders, and
I was buoyant as I bounced from the bed. Thank God. I didn't know what he
would be able to find me, but at least I wouldn't have to go at it alone. I’d
been genuinely scared about what I would do. I didn't want to get kicked
out because I didn't want to be out on the street. Devon knew people here. I
knew only Devon, but barely. It would be a lot easier for him to find places
to look for a job than it would be for me.
I set my drink on the floor next to the bed and then bit my lip. If he was
going to be helping me out, I supposed it would only be right for me to
offer what I had. The last of my money, or at least most of it, so he could
see that I was serious about making this work. I unzipped my backpack and
pulled out a handful of wadded bills. I held them out to Devon. "Here," I
said, "this is all I’ve got left. It’s not much but… it can buy us some food."
Devon quirked an eyebrow and plucked the money from between my
fingers. "How did you get this?" he asked. "Do I need to worry about
someone looking for you after you ripped them off?"
I shrugged. "Same way I got here," I said. "I sold mom's car so I could
get a bus ticket, and I had a little left over."
"Uh-huh," he scoffed. "And you couldn't just drive down here."
"Nah. I don't got a license, and the car didn't have any plates so…" I
shrugged again. "Didn't want to risk it. A bus was safer, and I got some
extra money out of it."
"Hm." Devon eyed me carefully. What was he thinking? He shoved the
money into his pocket and nodded. "Okay. Let's go."
Nodding, I scrambled to get my shoes on while he put on a shirt and
shorts. He locked the door behind us and started down the hallway,
expecting me to follow. I did, scurrying after him. "Where are we going?" I
asked.
"Out."
"But where?"
"Out."
"That's not really an answer, you know?"
"That's all you’re getting," Devon said. He strode to a car that was more
rust than metal at this point. It was brown on the outside as well as on the
inside. The leather seats were cracked, and the stuffing flaked away.
Cigarettes filled the ashtray, and the whole car smelled of them. It didn't
want to start right away, requiring a lot of accelerator pumping to finally go.
It also rattled.
 It rattled all the way to the tattoo shop where Devon made me sit in the
car while he ran in. He told me that under no circumstances should I get out
of the car, which honestly made me want to get out of it even more. Instead,
I tossed my feet up on the dash and leaned back, waiting impatiently.

—Devon
“What do you want for it?” Gunther grunted, turning the golden
diamond ring between his thick, inky fingers.
“A thousand.”
“Right.” He snorted, shaking his head. He twisted the ring under the
light he’d set up on the table. “I’ll give you five hundred.”
“You gotta be shitting me.”
“Hey, I don’t need this, and you won’t find anyone ‘round town who’ll
buy stolen goods from ya.” He had a fucking point, and I knew it.
As Gunther disappeared to get the money, I turned to eye Tim in the car.
He was pursing his lips and looking bored. His profile was sharp, set off by
his dark, thick hair, and a healthy glow brightened his cheeks. God, he was
so young. And it showed. A perfect picture of youth and vibrant skin.
“New whore?” Gunther asked, money in hand. His smirk lightened up
his old features. The man had more wrinkles than the sky had clouds today.
And it was really fucking cloudy. I grunted no as I counted through the
dollar bills. Gunther kept his eyes on me, hands planted on either side of the
counter. He ran a small tattoo shop in the shittiest part of town, the same
part I lived in. “What’s he doing in your car?” I contemplated whether I
should tell him the truth but then decided against it. His eyes bored into
mine as I mulled over my options.
“He needs help.”
“From you?” Gunther laughed out loud, his voice as deep as thunder.
He was a mean old fucker. Grey hair cropped short, beard silver, and
eyebrows bushy. He easily had ten or fifteen years on me; I’d never asked.
My upper lip curled into a sneer as I stuffed the money into my wallet.
Even if he ripped me off sometimes, Gunther was a good guy. A friend,
even. He knew his way around town, and he knew how to stay out of
trouble, unlike me. He wasn’t part of any gang. Again, unlike me. Gunther
was like Switzerland: neutral territory.
“See ya, asshole,” I said with a chuckle and walked away.
 “Later, sweetheart.”

Timothee was a beautiful young man. The more I watched him stroll around
the supermarket, the more I realized that. He looked like a fusion between
me and a more feminine creature—Sophie. His eyelashes were long, and he
had freckles all over his cheeks. If he took care of himself properly, he’d be
even prettier.
His white shirt was a couple of sizes too large on him and had holes at
the seam. His jeans were in a similar condition: rubbed off at the knees and
coming apart at the bottom where his shoes scuffed across the ground. I
walked behind him with the shopping cart that was full of items he wanted
to buy. I guessed a part of me felt guilty. For dismissing him when I went to
see him. For fucking him. For throwing him out. For everything.
Tim tossed a box of cereal into the cart and glanced at me warily.
“Fine,” I growled, eyeing the colorful collection of boxes, fruit, and veggies
he’d picked up.
“I can cook a little,” he’d claimed, to which I’d just raised an eyebrow.
“Is that right?”
“Yup. But I still need you to… feed me, Daddy.”
Fucking hell. Whenever he called me that, heated waves crashed into
me and settled in my groin, making my balls ache with his fucking filthy
promises. It didn’t seem to bother him that we were related, which was just,
well, it was sick. But his reasoning made sense. Still, it had to stop, or I
could see my soul going to hell much sooner than I’d intended it to.

—Timothee
“We got so much stuff!” I exclaimed, setting the last of the plastic bags
on the kitchen counter. It had been a long time since I’d seen so much food.
Mom had tried her best to cook as often as possible, but the truth was that
we had eaten much more leftover food from the diner she worked at than
any freshly cooked meals. Being a single parent was hard, I knew that, and I
hadn’t minded. The food from the diner was pretty good… but this? This
was so much better!
 “You got a lot of stuff,” Devon corrected with a grumble. He was
rummaging through the bag, taking items out and setting them out for me to
put up. “I didn’t pick out any of this junk.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Devon had tossed in a few things. Some cheap
steaks that were on discount and a couple of six-packs of beer. The rest of
the stuff he didn’t particularly seem to care about. He said he would eat
anything if it meant not having to spend too much money. I’d picked the
cheapest options of everything, and we managed to spend only a little over
a hundred. The fresh fruits and vegetables probably hiked the bill up quite a
bit, but I hardly ever got those, and I really wanted them. He hadn’t
complained when we were in the store. Did he feel a little guilty about
throwing me out of the house earlier and was that why he was being so
nice?
“I got apples and carrots and oranges and cucumbers and lettuce and
—,” I told him as I filled the fridge.
“I get the point, kid,” Devon said.
“They’re not junk.” I shoved the bags into the drawer happily.
“You better eat all that shit before it goes bad.”
I didn’t think I’d seen him smile at all since I’d been there. He’d
smirked a bit when we first fucked, but never actually smiled. I didn’t know
if he was even capable of it.
“You should eat some too,” I said. “It’s good for you.”
Devon sat down at the table, shaking his head, pulled his cigarettes out,
and lit up. “I’m not a growing boy. I don’t need it.”
“Sure you do. Everyone does. Maybe you wouldn’t be so grumpy if you
ate healthy more often. Maybe you’re low on a vitamin that makes you
nice. Ever thought about that?” I asked him seriously.
“You’re really fucking pushing your luck,” Devon said.
Grinning, I finished putting everything away. I bundled up all the plastic
bags and shoved them under the sink. Now it was time to actually make
something to eat. I’d told Devon I could cook, but it was really the most
basic of skills. I knew how to scramble eggs and make a grilled cheese
sandwich. That was about it for hot food.
We got a fresh loaf of bread, some containers of chicken lunch meat,
and all my veggies. I could make us some nice sandwiches. I didn’t bother
asking Devon if he wanted one. I just got started on it. I felt him watching
me from the table, the smell of smoke filling the small room as he puffed
away. “Are you ever going to share your cigarettes with me?” I asked him.
Devon scoffed, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. He flicked the
ashes into a cup on the table. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too young for cigarettes.”
“What difference does a cigarette make? It’s not like you actually care.”
I set a plate with a sandwich and some chips on it in front of him. I took my
sandwich and sat across from him, cocking my head to the side.
Devon just smirked and took a big bite. “I don’t care, but it bothers you
so…”
“That’s rude,” I said.
“And? I told you I’m not a nice person.”
I grumbled and picked at my sandwich. “Mean.”
Devon snorted. "Get used to it," he said and watched me carefully. "I
ain't a dad and never will be."
"I've already figured that out. Thanks." I hoped it sounded exactly as
sarcastic as I wanted it to be. "You and Mom definitely should have used a
condom."
Devon rolled his eyes. "Seriously, kid?"
"It's true," I said. "Plus, she had shit taste in men. Case in point." I
gestured to him.
Devon pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow. "You're a little fucking
asshole, aren't you?"
I shrugged. "You gonna say I'm not telling the truth?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. Would
be kind of hypocritical."
"See?" I smirked. "I'm my father's son."
"Hm." Devon crunched down on a chip, resting one arm on the table.
"So what are you good at?"
"What do you mean?"
Devon rolled his eyes. "I told you. You're going to have to work. What
are you good at? Might give me some idea of where to look."
I made a face. "As I said, I'm good at sucking dick and fucking. That's
about it. I didn't pay much attention in school. I can read well, and I can
draw. That's about it."
"None of those skills are particularly marketable," Devon said.
 "Well… if you kicked me out, I was gonna go for the dick sucking and
fucking, honestly," I said.

—Devon
Like I would let that happen. I didn’t want anyone to look at Tim, nor
did I want someone to touch him. He was mine. In every sense of the word.
“I’ll ask around,” I told him and finished off my sandwich, then ate a couple
of chips. Tim did the same, munching on the rest of his food while he
watched me. “What?” I grumbled, meeting his eyes.
“How did you not know I was your son when we met?” His voice
sounded breathy, almost dreamy.
“Huh? Why do you say that?”
“I mean, it’s pretty fucking obvious we’re related.” Tim waved his hand
between us, then cleaned off his fingers one by one. I chuckled and draped
one arm across the back of the chair as he washed his meal down by
emptying his drink.
“I didn’t look you up. Besides, you didn’t notice it either.” I shrugged
and then licked my thumb, tasting the salt of the chips. Tim’s gaze dropped
to my hand and stayed there. “What is it?” Without a word, he wrapped his
fingers around my wrist. I let him pull my hand toward him. For a moment I
thought he wanted to examine my fingers, see how many scars I had, what
kind of tattoos adorned my skin. But he didn’t do anything like that.
Instead, he brought my fingertips to his lush lips and nipped at my index
finger. A jolt of arousal shot to my groin, stirring up the desire I’d buried
deep. His tongue lapped around my finger, and he flicked his eyes again,
humming softly.
“Fuck…” My cock thickened as he lapped the salt off my finger and
then moved on to the next one. It was a simple act, but Tim made it look so
erotic, so dirty my heart beat twice as fast as just a minute ago. He took my
thumb into his mouth, circling his tongue over the pad of it, then let go.
“You’re such a fucking slut,” I growled when he repeated the motion. When
it was all the way in again, I pushed down on his tongue. His eyes widened.
I rose from my chair, stepped around the small table, and carded my
fingers through his hair to get a good grip on it. Tim craned his head back,
blinking rapidly. “What do you want, huh?” I pumped my thumb into his
mouth, watching his eyelashes flutter. Tim’s hands came up and searched
for purchase, but his palms skidded across the bulge of my hardening dick.
When he sought it out again, this time on purpose, I smacked the side of his
face, then snatched up a fistful of his hair again. “Look at you, so cock-
hungry, aren’t ya?” Tim mewled in response, the answer obvious from the
look in his eyes. I clucked my tongue at his reaction.
“No more, you hear? I’m your father. It’s sick.” But God, how much I
wanted him. My dick twitched at the prospect. “It’s wrong… taboo.” The
more I said, the more he squirmed and blinked up at me. Spit ran down the
corners of his mouth, covering his chin. Filthy fucking kid. I loved
watching him writhe and rub at my crotch. Like he needed it to breathe. His
nostrils flared, and tears spilled down his face. His teeth dug into my
thumb, but I didn’t pull back just yet.
“You’re just as bad as me.”

—Timothee
"You can stay here. I will help you find a job. That is it. But there can be
no more between us." Devon spoke firmly, almost like he believed his
words, but his hungry gaze betrayed him. "Do you understand me, boy?"
I whined and nodded as best I could. "Yes, sir," I breathed. He could tell
himself that it would never happen again, but it was going to. I could feel it,
and I was sure he could as well. Electricity sparked between us.
Inappropriate and strong. We would never be father and son. Never have the
kind of relationship we should have, but I didn't really care. I'd gotten along
seventeen years without a father. I didn't need one now.
"Good." Devon let go of my hair and patted my cheek in a
condescending manner. His finger slipped from between my teeth, and he
wiped it off on the side of his pants. "Now I am going to go take a shower.
You clean up this mess of yours."
"But, Daaaad," I whined.
"No!" He pointed his finger at me sharply, speaking to me like I was a
dog. "Don't fucking whine."
"Ugh." I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my chair. "You're being no
fun at all."
"Don't care." Devon headed toward the bathroom. "Now clean up."
I did clean up our mess. Just like a good little boy. I washed and dried the
dishes, put away the bag of chips, and even wiped down the table. It didn't
take long, and it wasn't much of a distraction.
By the time I finished, I was still hard and desperately aching for
Devon's cock. I'd given him a hand job and blown him, and I hadn't gotten
myself off at all since then. I needed it. I needed it badly. And I was
determined he was going to give it to me. Nothing was going to stop me.
Except for maybe the bathroom door, which he had locked on me.
"Daddy," I cooed, tapping my fingers against the door. "Don't you wanna let
me in, Daddy?"
Devon didn't respond, so I knocked louder. "C'mon. I'm horny," I called
through the door.
Still no response.
Huffing, I jiggled the door handle, then walked back toward the bed and
tossed myself on it, face first with my arms outstretched, and then squirmed
around. I was getting off. One way or the other. And if he didn't want to
help me, I would have to do it myself.
I lifted my hips off the bed, wiggling my hand down so I could squeeze
my cock. With a soft moan, I buried my face in the sheets, which smelled of
Devon. I rocked my hips, grinding into my palm. "Mm. Daddy," I purred,
nuzzling my cheek into the mattress. "Please, Daddy."
Closing my eyes tightly, I rose onto my knees, pulled my shirt over my
head, and tossed it onto the floor. I yanked my socks off too and then
worked my pants down until all my clothes were piled on the floor and I
was naked. I stayed on my knees, resting my chest against the bed and
hiding my face away again as I grabbed my dangling cock and stroked it
slowly. I pressed my thighs together tightly, ass swaying in the air as I
played with myself. "Mm. Fuck. Daddy. Yes."

—Devon
Tim was on a mission to get me a one-way ticket to hell, begging for me
to give in, relentlessly knocking on the door. His voice was muffled as he
waited for me to open the bathroom. Like that was going to happen. God
knew I wanted a repeat of what we’d done that night at the motel, but it
wasn’t right. I’d done a lot of fucked-up shit in my life, but fucking my own
son while I knew he was my flesh and blood? The thought made me
shudder from head to toe, not from disgust, though. It was more like a hot
flush spread through my very core until I couldn’t tell whether I should feel
hot or cold. Lust. Pure lust.
It took over all of me.
The desire for him.
How forbidden it was.
I scrubbed my hair and face, feeling the scrape of my three-day scruff
against my fingertips. I liked the feel and look of it on me; it made me
appear older too. The stubble on my jaw had only thickened sometime in
my twenties. I’d come to appreciate it. Just like the dark chest hair leading
down my stomach and thinning into a fine line beneath my navel. I glided
my hand down to the base of my cock and tilted my head forward to let the
stream of water soak my hair.
I gave my shaft a few long strokes to the tip, feeling it swell between
my fingers. The water was loud around my ears, embracing me in a bubble
of my own reality. A time-out from my life out there. I could barely breathe
—the air too thick with steam, making me feel lightheaded. And then I
remembered...Tim on his knees, legs spread, fingertips digging in to hold
his ass open for me. The images from that one night together were burned
into my memory, ever lingering at the edges of my mind. I pumped my
cock faster, the sound of my fist against my groin mixing with the loud rush
of the shower. I had to angle my head to breathe. I braced one hand against
the tiles and whipped the other up and down my stiffening length, twisting
at the head and then coming down hard at the base.
Tim dug his fingers into the sides of his ass cheeks, stretching him open,
shoulders taut, muscles rippling. He wiggled his ass in invitation, face
flushed scarlet as he peered over his shoulder, mouthing “Daddy, please.” I
bit back the moan that threatened to roll up my throat, loud and roaring, as I
kept jacking for real. Hard and fast, my balls bouncing beneath my fist. My
vision swam, and my pulse thrummed in my ears until I tried to suck in a
breath and swallowed a mouthful of water instead. Spluttering, I smacked
both hands against the tiles, then fumbled for the tap. I coughed out water.
My head spun, and my balance swayed.
I swiped my fingers across my eyes to clear my vision, but it wasn’t the
water that made everything blurry. It was the arousal pulsing through my
veins. I looked down at my angry erection, dark purple and throbbing with
my heartbeat. My fingers shook; my breath hitched. Timothee would be the
death of me.

I managed to calm down and towel myself off before I was confident
enough to resist my son if he came on to me again. With the damp towel
wrapped around my hips, tied at the side, I unlocked the door and stepped
out. The air was less humid but just as hot. I’d barely taken one step out
when my gaze dropped to Tim on the bed. He lay on his stomach, knees
angled to the side, balls pressed against the sheets. His eyes were hooded,
the side of his face pressed to my pillow. One hand disappeared between
him and the bed while the other caressed his hip and thigh, gliding up in
slow motion.
Oh, hell.
He looked so at peace, goose bumps pebbling all over his skin from the
soft breeze blowing in from the window. I’d cracked it open the moment
we’d entered the apartment because the air had been stale and too hot to
breathe. Now the air could still melt me on the spot, but the occasional
breeze made it bearable. The image of Tim on the bed, though? It
threatened to burn me up from the inside out. If it weren’t for the way he
fondled himself, I’d have thought he was sleeping, which unleashed another
wave of lust rushing through me.
Tim bucked his hips, fucking his hand against the bed. “Mmm,” he
hummed and brought his free fingers up to his mouth. He sucked them
inside and then popped them out for effect. He knew I was watching him.
The little fuck.
His index finger glided over the curve of his ass until he found his pink,
puckered hole and tapped on it as though he wanted to direct me there. I
was under his spell, hot and cold currents fighting through my body, trying
to take control, when really, it was him. Him. He held the reins. “Dad?” Tim
whimpered, his eyes, rimmed with those thick eyelashes, barely open.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I palmed my rising dick beneath the towel and
gave myself a squeeze. One ticket to hell, please. Shit. Tim rose to his
elbows and looked back at me with half-lidded eyes. I was buzzing inside,
trying to fight the magnetic pull he had on me. Another buck of his hips
turned into a little wiggle, just like in my fantasy. I growled, low and deep
and primal.
 “Daddy…” Tim cooed, lips pursed, shoulders tight as he held himself
up, elbows close together and his eyes fixed on me. “Can you please come
on me? Come on my hole and then stuff it in?” My lips parted, and I gasped
out a groan. Jesus fucking Christ. He looked dead serious, his face
blooming with heat, his eyes smoldering with lust. “I wanted to prepare
myself for you, but you didn’t let me... your cum would make me feel
better, Daddy.”
By now, my cock was so hard it lifted up the damp fabric of my towel,
prodding against it. Had Tim even been there for our previous
conversation? I felt like I was repeating myself over and over again while
he just dismissed whatever I said. It seemed to work because right here,
right now, I was fucking down for it.

—Timothee
Devon looked like he was in a trance as he slowly made his way toward
the bed. He reached down and untucked his towel, letting it fall away from
his hips. He was hard. Already so close by how dark and swollen his cock
looked. It bounced with each step, and then he paused at the edge of the bed
and scanned me over. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and ran his hand
through his damp hair, smoothing it back. He closed his eyes for a moment
like he was trying to gain control, but when he opened them, they were
even darker. Hungrier.
In one swift move, Devon got onto the bed and placed his hand between
my shoulder blades. He shoved me back into the mattress, grabbed one of
my arms and twisted it behind my back like he was going to handcuff me.
He straddled my thighs, his cock poking into the underside of my ass as he
leaned over me, breathing hard. He brought his free hand up to my hair and
ground my cheek into the mattress. It felt like I was getting arrested, and I
liked it a lot.
I squirmed and bucked against him, moaning into the sheets. “Daddy,
please,” I whined. “I want your cum, Daddy. I want your cum so badly.
Want you to fill me up. Want you to paint me with it.”
Devon’s grip tightened on me, and he growled. “Where the fuck did you
get such a filthy fucking mouth?” he asked, but I figured he didn’t really
want an answer. He rolled his hips, and his cock prodded between my
cheeks. “So desperate for Daddy’s cum, huh?”
 I squealed and kicked my legs, trying to arch into him. He held me in
place, teasing me with the slick head of his cock. “Yes, Daddy, please. Want
your cum. Need it, Daddy, please.”
Devon let go of my hair, and I lifted my head slightly, blinking at him
with starry eyes. His fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, smacking
the underside of it against my crack. His eyes shot up, meeting mine, and he
smirked. “If you want Daddy’s cum, Daddy will give it to you, baby boy.
Don’t you worry about that,” he cooed.
I shuddered and lowered my head again, biting on my bottom lip.
“C’mon,” I murmured, rolling my hips. My arm was freed, but I kept it
folded behind my back. Devon spit, and then his cock smacked against one
of my cheeks. It was wet and warm. I couldn’t stay still and rutted my hips
into the mattress so that my cock rubbed across the sheets. “Daddy.”
Devon grabbed my ass cheeks and spread them open. He spit again,
hitting my pucker. I flinched. The tip of his cock pressed firmly to my
entrance. I wasn’t prepped, and my body tensed as Devon applied pressure.
I whimpered low in my throat, ready for the pain. But it didn’t come. The
force lessened, and he tapped his cockhead against my pucker again, then
angled his hips. The underside of his cock dragged across me. He slapped
the side of my ass so hard I jerked up, crying out. “Next time you beg me,
you better be fucking prepared to take it when I give it to you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathed. No point in explaining I’d have been prepped
if he'd let me into the bathroom.
I clawed at the sheets, arching my back and pressing my stomach into
the mattress as I presented my ass to him.
Another smack. I buried my face in the bed. Devon humped me and
rubbed his cock between my ass cheeks, dragging his rigid, veiny shaft
along my skin. His foreskin was so soft. I shivered and I thrust back to meet
him.
Devon was panting now, and he dropped one hand to the bed beside my
head, supporting himself as he moved faster. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed.
I mewled, toes curling. “Gimme your cum, Daddy,” I whispered, eyes
half-lidded and lips parted now. Blissful. “Cover me like your little whore.
Mark me as yours. C’mon. I want it. I wanna be your cumdump.”
The fingers that were next to my head curled into a fist, and he stilled
his hips. I glanced over my shoulder. He pulled back and took his cock into
his hand. “Spread yourself open for me,” he ordered breathlessly. He
squeezed at the base of his cock, holding it tightly as if he was trying to
stave off his pending orgasm.
I didn’t need to be told twice. My shoulders pressed into the bed as I
reached behind me, holding myself open for him. The mattress rocked and
bounced as Devon jacked himself off with a surprising amount of force. His
jaw was tight, his whole body rigid, and I loved watching the muscles of his
stomach as they tensed.
A low sound, somewhere between a grunt and a growl, vibrated deep
inside him as he came. He angled his cock down so the first ribbon of cum
hit my entrance; it clenched at the feel. Then Devon went back to his wild
stroking, and cum covered my ass and lower back like I was a fucking
Jackson Pollock painting. “Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered. I rolled my hips. The
cum smeared between my cheeks. “Like that, Daddy. All of it. I want it all.
Empty your balls all over me.”
One hand went to my lower back, and Devon pressed me down firmly
as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. His hips jerked, and another gush of
cum hit my tailbone. It seemed like he was almost done, pulling from the
base up and only extracting a few more drops.
He opened his eyes, staring down at the mess he’d made with his hand
still around his cock. His chest hitched, and he shook his head. “God,” he
murmured.
Smirking, I hid my face back into the sheets. “There’s no God here,” I
murmured, mocking his own words.

—Devon
When I closed my eyes, tiny stars flashed across the backs of my
eyelids . And even when I opened them, they were still there. My thighs
trembled, and my toes twitched at the aftershocks of my orgasm. Tim’s ass
and back were covered in long streaks of my cum. White and creamy,
glittering on his beautiful, youthful skin. I drew in another long breath and
stroked my hand across the length of my dick, squeezing out the last bead
of cum and scooping it up with my thumb.
Timothee looked right at me me as I wiped my fingers off on the
backside of his thighs like he was nothing more than a sex doll, debauched,
used, dirty. Those plump lips parted when I slid my fingers across his warm
skin, watching goose bumps rise. Slowly, the fog of my vision faded,
clearing my senses, my thoughts. There was no point fighting him, no point
telling him no. The next thing he did only proved that.
Propped up on his right forearm, Tim reached back and scraped my cum
off his ass and back, then lifted to his knees and hands. I sat back on my
haunches, shifting beside him as he carefully gathered up my seed.
“What…” I started but never finished. His fingers slid through the mess
until one fingertip slipped between his ass cheeks, working my cum into his
pretty hole. My softening dick gave a twitch, and a jolt of arousal flashed
right to my core.
“It’s so much…” Tim whispered, licking his lips, then brought the side
of his hand to his mouth and lapped at it. I was back from sated to horny in
an instant. Hungrily, Tim licked his palm clean but kept his fingers laced
with my cum, pressing them together to ensure nothing dripped down. This
was easily the filthiest thing I’d ever seen. I’d fucked him, yeah. I’d jerked
off on him too, but Tim sucking my cum off his hand? Making those
obscene moaning sounds? That was a whole different level of dirty.
“Dad?”
My fingers and toes curled, and my muscles drew tight like a bowstring
at the sound of that word. Tim’s blue eyes gazed up at me, then descended
again. He was still on all fours with a bit of my seed sliding down his waist.
“I wanna…” He breathed, then swallowed, setting into motion. He sat up
and turned to me, so slowly, so carefully, it seemed like he was afraid I’d
bolt any second now. But really, I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot,
frozen. Tim’s slick fingers wrapped around his stiff cock, and he lathered it
up like it was the most normal thing to do, using his father’s jizz to jerk that
pretty cock. But he didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he lowered himself onto an
elbow again, right between my thighs, and peered up at me.
My cock hung heavy and spent between us, foreskin back in place,
shielding the tip. “I need…” His voice faded once more like he couldn’t
bring himself to say the words. Tim swallowed again, the lewd sound of his
hand on his cock loud in the room. I knew what he needed, but I didn’t give
it to him. Reaching out, I shoved two of my fingers into his mouth, which
he eagerly accepted. Fuck me. The movement of his hand increased and
turned rapid as he shifted, palm pressed against the sheets to hold himself
up.
He sucked on my fingers as I pumped them in, his tongue twisting and
swirling around the tips. And the muffled sounds he made, my God. “Mngh,
yes, yes.” His bright blue eyes shuttered closed. The muscles of his arm
tensed as he jerked himself off hard and fast with my fingers in his mouth.
“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” I rumbled deeply, watching his eyes roll
back as he desperately beat his meat. He sucked and moaned. “You like
that? My fingers in your mouth, yeah?” Tim nodded as best he could,
mewling pathetically while his body rocked with the tugs of his hand, the
mattress moving with his force. “Is there something else you need?” I knew
the answer, but I wanted him to say it. Slipping my soaked fingers out, I
waited for him to speak. Tim coughed and gasped, eyes darting down to my
crotch. When he didn’t answer me, I smacked the side of his face and
cupped his jaw roughly. “C’mon, say it, boy.”
“Y-Your dick,” he stuttered, body high on pleasure and pressure. He was
ready to burst, ready to come all over the bed. I slid my hand from him,
freeing him. Immediately, he slowed his hand on his cock and tongued at
the tip of my cock, flaccid and slick, covered in a thin glaze of cum. Tim’s
lips parted at once, and he took me in completely, back arched, eyes up.
It was… an impossible image. One I’d never forget.
“You little cockslut,” I mused, carding my hands through his soft
strands, combing them back as his arm started to move again. “Go on, come
for Daddy.”

—Timothee
Devon had given in so completely, and I only hoped he didn't change
his mind again. The way his body reacted to me... the way he shivered
when I called him Daddy... it was proof enough he loved what we were
doing. Who cared if it was wrong? The only other person who knew he had
a son was gone. It was a secret the two of us could keep. No one else had to
know. Everyone could just assume Devon had decided to stick his dick in a
young piece of ass. Not like they would question it.
My stomach clenched, and I gasped, Devon's cock falling from my
mouth. I dropped my head and rested my cheek against his wet shaft as I
nuzzled close against it. "Dad. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck!" My moans and cries
were pathetic, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
A final sob and my whole body jerked, cum erupting from the tip of my
cock. I was shaking, panting for air. My hand was a blur, and I spread my
legs, thrusting forward into my slick fist. "Oh, oh. Dad. Daddy!" I
whimpered. My legs gave way, and I dropped down onto the bed with my
hand still around my cock.
I was breathing hard, my lungs burning and my heart pounding so
quickly in my chest it fucking hurt. Devon's fingers brushed through my
hair, stroking absently. I shifted back a bit. "Fuck."
Devon chuckled and dragged his fingers from my hair to my back. He
trailed the tips of his fingers between my shoulders and along my spine.
"How the fuck did you get to be so depraved?" he asked.
I snorted at that, opening my eyes and peering up at him. "I dunno.
Mom was never there ‘cause she worked constantly, and I didn't know my
dad, so it was either seeking affection through sex with older men or turning
to drugs. I was too poor for drugs, so…"
I offered him a crooked grin.
"Oh, you're such a little shit." Devon laughed. It was the first time I’d
ever seen him laugh. Loud and proper.
"You really gonna complain about it? I could have been all moon-eyed
and desperate to spend father-son time together. Ask you to teach me how
to throw a baseball or something. Instead, I sucked your dick. Isn't that
better?"

—Devon
Even after Tim had taken a shower, he was a ball full of energy, darting
around, sketching on his notepad, and humming to himself while I worked
out my next job via text, lying stretched out on the bed.
I didn’t want him to know what I did; it would be dangerous for him to
get involved. Plus, I couldn’t trust him just yet. I didn’t know him that well
after all.
The sun was slowly setting when Tim snatched up a banana and kept
working on his sketch, the pencil scuffing over the paper in quick,
determined strides. “We should go out,” he said but appeared lost in
thought. Just a statement hanging in the air.
“What?” I grunted, looking up from the screen of my phone.
“Yeah.” Tim nodded as though he’d just had an idea he approved of.
“Go out. Do something fun together. Bond a little.” At that, he flashed me a
grin, half-eaten banana in hand.
“You’re kidding, right?”
 “But, Dad.”
“I thought you preferred sucking my dick instead of being”—I let my
phone plop down and quoted him—“‘moon-eyed and desperate to spend
father-son time together’.” Tim was still grinning and leaned back in his
seat at the window, legs crisscrossed on the chair.
“C’mon, it’s gonna be fun. We can go out, play darts or something.”
“Darts?” I pushed myself up into a seated position on the bed, eyeing
him for possible brain damage. Had I smacked him a little too hard? Was he
broken now?
“Or you can teach me something!” Tim piped up, mouth half full with
the rest of his banana. He went on, “Like I dunno, shoot a gun? Play pool?”
I scoffed and pushed to my feet, pocketing my phone. “Those are my
options? Why do you think I’d know how to shoot a gun?” Tim cocked his
head to the side and swallowed his mouthful.
“Hate to break it to you, Dad, but you’re one of the bad guys.”

—Timothee
Devon gave in to my whining. Eventually. Though it was only after I
told him I wouldn’t stop bugging him about his job for the rest of the night
unless we went out. Even then, I had to assure him I wasn’t trying to spend
father-son time together, but I just wanted to get out and see a bit of the city.
He didn’t have to worry about me falling for him or feeling any sort of
affection. He was an asshole, and I wasn’t sure if he was even capable of
more than the most basic of emotions.
“Where are we going?” I asked, bouncing after him as he locked the
apartment door and stalked off down the hallway.
“You said you wanted to go out, so we’re going to a bar,” Devon said,
tucking his keys away. “There’s one a few blocks over. We won’t have to
take the car again. Do you have your ID?”
“Yes, sir.” I grinned, shoving my hands into the pockets of my tight
jeans. The ID was fake, and Devon had to know that, given how we’d met,
yet he didn’t seem to mind. As long as we could go out and drink, we’d be
fine.
I’d changed into something a little more appropriate before going out,
but Devon was wearing pretty much the same thing he always wore. Black
jeans, black shirt, black boots. I supposed he didn’t really have to dress up
to look sexy. He had that whole bad boy aura around him in whatever he
wore. Even the way he lit up two cigarettes, letting them dangle between his
lips as he flicked his lighter, was sexy.
“Here.” He handed me one of them and tucked his lighter back into his
pocket.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to have these.”
“Shut up, or I’ll take it back.” He glared at me.
I giggled and followed him as he started down the street. “Are you
going to teach me how to play a game?” I asked him.
“Probably not.”
“Are you going to buy me a drink?”
“Eh, probably not.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“You’re going to be quiet and sit on a stool while I get drunk enough to
deal with you,” Devon said, cutting his gaze in my direction.
Rolling my eyes, I scoffed. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
He actually chuckled but didn’t say anything, happily puffing away on
his cigarette.

The walk to the bar wasn’t too bad. It was a dingy place, set into a row of
buildings next to a pawn shop and something that was shuttered and
covered in graffiti. It wasn’t crowded, but there were still plenty of people
at the bar, drinking and chatting. An unsavory-looking crowd, all in all. I
spotted at least four guys I wouldn’t have minded taking home.
“Look. Look. Look!” I said brightly, grabbing onto his sleeve and
tugging at it. “The pool table is empty. Come on. I wanna play with you.”
“No,” he said, shaking me off and making a beeline for the bar.
“Dev, come on,” I huffed, sulking after him. “I don’t want to just sit
here and drink. There’s a pool table.”
Devon continued to ignore me and took a seat on a stool. I sighed and
sat down next to him. When the bartender came over to ask what he
wanted, I put on my sweetest smile. “Beer. Two,” Devon said, holding up
his hand to silence me.
“You’re going to drink two?” I pouted.
“No.” He rolled his eyes. “God, do you ever shut up?”
 “I’m in a good mood,” I told him honestly. “I feel… good. So I’m sorry
for being a positive person, but you can fuck off with your grumpiness.
Can’t believe you won’t even play pool with me.”
Devon groaned. “Are you going to keep pouting until I give in?” he
asked.
“Most definitely.”

—Devon
“Here.” I nudged the beer the bartender had placed on the counter and
nicked my chin at Tim. He grabbed the bottle quickly and eyed it
suspiciously. “What?”
“Just checking if it’s clean…”
“It is,” I confirmed and sucked down a mouthful of bitter beer. My
forearm rested on the bar as I looked around. My phone buzzed against my
thigh, and I leaned back to pull it out of my pocket.
Brandon: You around tonight? Need a good pounding. Lemme know.
God, if Brandon only knew what I’d gotten myself into. We weren’t that
close, so I couldn’t tell him about Tim. It was more of a “fuck ‘n’ go”
situation. I didn’t reply and just stuffed my phone back into my pocket. No
answer was an answer after all. The pool table was still empty, and I felt
Tim’s gaze prodding at me as he sipped his drink. But he didn’t say
anything. Just pouted, as expected.
Eventually, I rolled my eyes and pushed off the bar. “C’mon, let’s play
pool.”

Tim sucked at playing pool. Really, he was terrible. He danced around the
table with a scowl, eyeing the balls on the green surface as if he was trying
to solve a puzzle. With my first beer emptied, I gave the bartender a sign he
should bring me another one and then attended to Tim, who was tonguing
his upper lip, eyebrows bunched together in concentration.
When he bent over the table, cue perched between his fingers, I
positioned myself right next to him, my cue resting between my feet, tip
pointing up. “You gotta go a little to the left,” I said and nudged him there.
Tim shifted willingly, chest to the table, arms outstretched. “Aim for the
ball in the middle, then touch it softly,” I added while I tried to keep my
eyes from making a detour down his back to where his pants stretched
tightly over his ass.
He made his move, which made the ball jump in the right direction but
missed its aim completely. “You didn’t do it softly like I said.” Tim
straightened up and smirked impishly.
“Next time I tell you to go softly, will you?” he asked.
I scoffed and, in a few, quick strides, rounded the table. Tim kept his
smirk in place, gliding his hand up and down the cue so slowly it looked
like he was stroking something else. God, this kid…
I bent over, hit the ball exactly how I’d showed him, and watched it
pluck into the far right pocket. “That’s how it’s done,” I told him. Tim
mimicked me childishly, waiting for me to continue. Someone approached
him.
“Ohh, Dev, who’s this pretty little thing? Are you picking up whores
from schools now?” Jason. I clenched my jaw as Tim whipped around and
faced the man. Heavily tattooed, even more than me, blond hair pulled into
a bun, and just as tall as Tim.
“Mind your fucking business,” I snapped while Jason studied my son’s
face intently. Tim didn’t move. He just stood there staring at the man as
Jason drew a thumb over his jaw. “Don’t touch him,” I snarled.
“Or what?” Jason lilted, his tone dripping with innocence. His father
was Steven, the man who’d bailed me out of prison nearly two decades ago.
Jason was younger than me, in his late twenties, and he had that bad boy
charm that always had us on edge around each other. I hated him; he hated
me. For various reasons. But for one in particular: his I-am-everything-and-
you-are-nothing attitude.
“Or I’ll make you regret it,” I threatened, placing the cue on the table
and stepping closer to them. Tim slowly emerged out of his trance, his eyes
hooded when Jason flicked his thumb across his chin. Two men stood
behind him, sipping beers, guns attached to their belts. The usual.
Jason dropped his hand, the chains around his wrist jingling, and
hooked one finger in a belt loop of Tim’s jeans. “How much did you pay for
him?”
I drew forward, grabbed Tim by his arm, and yanked him in my
direction. “Don’t touch what isn’t yours,” I growled from between my teeth,
fingers clenching around Tim’s biceps.
 “Oh, so I was right?” Jason asked cheerfully. His lips curled into a
smirk. The scar—from a fight I’d witnessed years ago—running from his
right eye over his cheek turned his expression even more sinister, and it
drove me crazy. It always did. I eased my hand off Tim’s arm and narrowed
my eyes. “He looks delicious. Wanna play? Winner gets all.” That smirk
broadened into a full-on grin. Jason was a good player, but this wasn’t like
him. If he played, he played with guns, and death was on the table. Not
some boy. Not my son.
“I wanna play.” A voice piped up from beside me, and I flicked my eyes
in Tim's direction. His eyes were dark and determined. “Winner gets all.”
“No way—”
“Oh.” Jason grinned, turning to Tim. “Why don’t we save everyone a lot
of time and you just come home with me right now, huh?”
Tim smiled—fucking smiled. “You win, I go home with you, no charge.
We win, you’ll leave us the hell alone and get out of the bar.”

—Timothee
Sheesh. All I’d wanted to do was play around with Devon. Have a little
bit of fun and maybe find a good place to drink in this city when I needed to
escape from the apartment. Now I was in the middle of some beef Devon
had with this douchebag. Maybe an ex-boyfriend? But the hard, tattooed
man didn’t seem to be Devon’s type. Though I was only basing that on the
fact that Devon found me attractive and Jason was like the complete
opposite of me. People had layers. Right. They could have fucked, and that
could have been why the air between them was so charged.
In the end, it didn’t really matter what it was. What mattered was that
Devon’s mood was ruined, and so was my fucking evening, which was why
I wasn’t very happy with whoever this asshole was. I couldn’t take him
down, though. He had a gun, and all I had was a pool cue.
“Fine, fine,” Jason said and patted one massive hand against my cheek.
“If you wanna play a little game before you come home with me, we can
play a little game. You and Devon, against me and... you.” He pointed to
one of the massive men behind him and snapped his fingers.
“All right.” If he touched me again, I’d bite his fingers. “Devon can go
first, your guy, me, and then you.”
 “Rack ‘em up.” Jason waved his hand dismissively and selected a pool
cue.
I walked toward the pool table and gathered up all the balls. I didn’t
even need to look over my shoulder to know that Devon was approaching
me like an incoming storm. His fingers hooked in the back of my shirt, and
he leaned over me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed
into my ear.
“What?” I scoffed. “We win. The dude leaves us alone. I don’t think
there’s anything bad about that.”
“Uh-huh. And if we lose?” Devon held onto me tightly, grinding his
teeth.
“I go home with him.” I shrugged. It wasn’t like Jason was unattractive;
he was just a jerk. “It’s pretty simple.”
Devon growled. “This isn’t some fucking game,” he said. “I don’t want
you to go home with him. Do you know what he fucking does to the people
he brings home?”
“I assume he flops around on top of them for a bit and constantly asks if
he’s doing okay,” I said dryly. “Look, I can handle myself. I’m not worried
about him. I’ve dealt with guys like him a hundred times.”
“You have not.” Devon was talking between his teeth, his whole body
tense against my back. “Jason... he is fucking dangerous. He will hurt you.
He likes to make his whores cry.”
I shrugged again, placing the last ball and taking a step back, forcing
Devon to back away from me. “You need to stop worrying,” I said, turning
my eyes to him.
“I’m not worried.” Devon didn’t actually look worried. He looked
furious. Like he was about to call down the wrath of God upon me or
something. This was the angriest I had seen him so far, and I was starting to
question whether my idea was a bad one. However, it was too late to back
out now, and confidence was everything, so I wasn’t going to let him see
me falter.
I twisted my fingers in the front of his shirt and cocked my head to the
side. “I’m telling you. This is going to be fine,” I said firmly.
“You suck at this game,” Devon snapped.
I grinned at him. “Do I, though?”
“Yes, you do.”
 Laughing, I patted him on the chest. “You have no idea. It’s going to be
fine.”
“Are you playing or what?” Jason called from beside the pool table. He
was chalking the tip of the cue, watching the two of us with a nasty smirk
on his lips.
“We’re playing.” I glanced at him, then turned my eyes back to Devon.
“Come on. Let’s do this.”

—Devon
Well, Timothee didn’t suck this time. He’d acted innocent and stupid
and was now plucking one ball in after the other. My son, the little fuck,
had fucking played me earlier. I headed to the bar, got a stronger drink, and
downed it in one go. The liquor burned down my throat, erasing the taste of
the bitter beer.
Jason and his bulldog of a bodyguard were close behind us, ball-wise. A
muscle below his jaw ticked; Jason was getting nervous. And so was I.
Plus, I was still fuming from the way Tim kept biting his lip seductively
while batting his eyelashes in Jason’s direction. God, I wanted to hurt him.
Both of them.
I ordered another drink—and another. Then it was my turn again. The
ball almost missed its pocket but then dropped right into it. Tim cheered and
grinned, twisting his cue between his fingertips. Now it was only the black
ball left for us, while Jason and his man had two balls on the table plus the
blackball to win.
“Oh, look at that smile,” Jason cooed at Tim, syrupy sweet, the words
dripping off his tongue like poisoned honey. “He’s one beautiful whore,” he
went on without looking at me. I straightened from my position at the table.
My head spun a little from the booze running through my system, and I had
to grab the edge of the table to keep my balance. When I blinked away my
dizziness, Jason stood right in front of Tim, bracketing him in against the
table.
Hot rage flooded me within mere seconds, carrying me over to them in
long, determined strides. “I told you not to touch him,” I snapped, throwing
aside my pool cue, which clattered onto the floor.
Then I launched myself at Jason, hauling him off Tim and away from
the pool table. After that, it was just a jumble of limbs, fists, a mixture of
yelling and shouting until I felt someone grabbing me by the shoulders and
dragging me off him. It had been a stupid move; we’d been winning. Yet I’d
wanted nothing more than to hurt Jason and carry Tim out by the tip of his
ear. That little brat.

—Timothee
“God fucking damn it, Devon,” I mumbled, watching helplessly as the
bouncer dragged him off. I wanted to protest, but there was really no point.
For one, the man hauling him away was twice Devon’s size, which was way
bigger than me. And two, Devon deserved to be kicked out. We’d been
fucking winning, and he’d had no reason to flip out like that.
Jason was leaning against the table with a smirk on his lips and his cue
held loosely in his hands. “Well, I guess that means you’re disqualified,” he
said.
I turned my attention to him, my jaw clenched for a moment. Then I
plastered a smile on my face. Jason was definitely the type to hold me to
my word, even if we didn’t actually manage to finish the game. “Uh-uh. He
already took his turn,” I said. “So it doesn’t matter that he got kicked out. If
I can finish the game on my next turn, we win.” Or if Jason’s guy finished
the game. Either way, I could still win it.
He laughed and nodded to his man, letting him take his turn. “Oh, why
are you playing so hard to get, huh?” he asked. “You should be begging to
come home with me. I could give you a lot more than that old man can.”
“Probably,” I said with a teasing grin. “But why should I give it up so
easily? There’s no fun in that.”
Jason chuckled. “But there’ll be a lot more fun at my house,” he said,
taking a step toward me. He placed the tip of his pool cue beneath my chin
and tilted my head back with it. “We can play a different game.”
I licked my lips, darting my eyes over to Jason’s man as he cursed. He’d
missed. It was my turn, and everything rested on this one move. “Keep that
thought in mind. I need to finish kicking your ass,” I told him.
“Good luck.” Jason smirked.
“Don’t need it.”
The final ball went in perfectly. Fucking perfectly. For a split second it had
looked like I was going to miss, but then… bam! As soon as it went in, I
headed out the bar in search of Devon, leaving Jason sulking at the pool
table. It didn’t take me long. Strings of loud cursing and rattling came from
the alley next to the bar. I shoved my hands into my pockets and strode
toward it. Devon was pacing back and forth, occasionally stopping and
giving the dumpster a hard kick.
“Are you done having your tantrum?” I asked, standing at the edge of
the alley. “Because if you need a moment, I can play another game with
Jason.”
Devon growled, stalking toward me and wrapping his hand around the
back of my neck. “What happened?” he demanded, fingers pressing in.
“We won,” I said coolly. “But if you’re throwing a fit... Jason doesn’t
seem too bad.”
Blue eyes darkened, and Devon nearly hauled me off my feet as he
yanked me into the alleyway. His fingers moved from my neck and fisted in
my shirt, and he slammed me back against the brick wall. “You need to shut
the fuck up, kid.” He shook me faintly.
“Why?” I breathed, looking up at him. “Are you fucking jealous?”

—Devon
It was stupid and irrational, and I knew the booze loosened my tongue,
but... I couldn’t fucking help it. Seeing him flirt with Jason made me lose it;
something inside me had snapped, and now Tim had to endure the
aftereffects of it. I nudged my thumb up into the underside of his jaw,
pinning his head back against the wall.
I’d claimed him before with my dick in his ass, my cum dripping all
over his skin.
But I hadn’t done this.
I slammed my mouth to his in a violent, deep kiss, then forced his lips
open. Tim mewled and grasped my shirt, tightening it across my back and
shoulders. I kept his head in place so I could slant our mouths together, only
stopping to heave in ragged breaths of air. He tasted of gum and cheap beer
and youth. I was kissing my son. There was something so intimate about
it… a kind of closeness that made my heart speed up.
 “You. Are. Mine.” The words came out as three separate growls, and I
dug my fingers into the side of his face, not letting go as Tim inhaled
shakily, his chest rising and falling in hitches.
“I am,” he rasped, voice hoarse and deep with lust. “I am yours... I am
your son.”
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest as he whispered the last
words, his half-lidded eyes focused on my mouth. He licked his upper lip,
unmoving in my grasp. The silence stretched between us, his soft intake of
air the only sound.
“As long as you live with me, you won’t be flirting, no fucking around
with other men. Are we clear?”
Tim swallowed against my grip, licked his lips, and replied with a
breathy “yes.”

—Timothee
Devon grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me off the wall, then
turned me around so I was facing the exit of the alley. “Now walk. We’re
going home, and you’re going to get yourself ready for me,” he said, tone
still sharp.
“Oh,” I purred, tilting my head back so I could look up at him with wide
eyes. “Really? You’re gonna…?”
Devon didn’t answer but placed his hands on my back and pushed me
forward. That storm still circled over his head, his eyes dark, almost
threatening. Lightning was pulsing in his gaze. “March,” he ordered. The
low way he spoke to me, the edge in his voice, made me shudder.
I was half-hard, and my jeans were far too tight as I made my way back
toward the apartment. I felt like I was in a trance, my feet moving of their
own accord across the still unfamiliar sidewalks.
Devon stormed behind me, his feet pounding against the pavement as
though he was going to beat it into submission. He was a fury, whirling
wildly behind me. My breath caught in my throat. It felt like I was going to
die of anticipation before we even got home.
In the apartment, I went straight to the bathroom, and Devon stayed in the
other room. He sat on the edge of the bed, and the hard mattress shifted
under him. Even the walk hadn’t calmed him down.
With trembling hands, I pulled my shirt off and undid my pants, then
stepped out of them.
I was dizzy. My head spun, and my heart pounded out an exciting
rhythm in my chest. Letting out a shaky breath, I closed my eyes for a
moment to steady myself.
This was going to happen. Again.
I wasn’t sure why I was so excited. We’d fucked before, and I was far
from a virgin. The only thing I could think of was that I was reacting on
some subconscious level to the sheer testosterone that was rolling off
Devon. I was high on his anger and beyond ready for him to take it out on
me. Claim me in the most primal way.
The cool water of the shower did nothing to temper my lust; my
erection didn’t even lose any of its stiffness. I prepped quickly, impatient
and eager. I didn’t know just how drunk Devon was, but I hoped it wasn’t to
the point where I’d walk in and find him passed out on the bed. That would
be the end of everything. I would probably smother him in his sleep if that
happened.
I didn’t even bother drying off, dripping my way out of the bedroom.
Devon was smoking. He rested back against the wall, his legs stretched out
across the bed. His shirt was off, his pants undone, and his cock bulging
beneath the fabric of his briefs. A cigarette dangled between his lips. He
tilted his head back as he lifted the cigarette away from his mouth and blew
the smoke out.
“Dad?” I cooed, standing by the bathroom door with my hands clasped
behind my back as I shifted on my feet.

—Devon
“C’mere, son,” I said after a slow exhale of smoke, fingers curling and
beckoning him closer. Tim was the perfect picture of youth and defiance;
his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes gleamed as he scooted over and
joined me on the bed, soaking wet.
Finally, he straddled me, his stiff cock bobbing in the air. I looked down
between us and flexed my fingers to keep them from trembling. I’d never
felt like this before, literally shaking with anticipation. Tim sat on my
thighs, his hard-on pointing up at the ceiling, balls already drawn up tight. I
couldn’t wait to sink into him, to fuck him open. But first...
I ticked the loose ashes off my cigarette, into an empty glass on the
nightstand, and then crushed it. Tim didn’t move, but his cock jumped when
I grazed it briefly with my stomach. I slid my hand to his lower back and
dragged him closer until his knees were right against my hips. He felt warm
and wet as I splayed my fingers and tapped the middle one right between
his ass cheeks. Tim shivered, hands pressing against my shoulders, curling
up against my ink.
“Daddy,” he breathed out as I rubbed my fingertip over his hole, testing
its resistance. “What are you doing, Daddy?” His glazed eyes opened, and I
blinked, twice. Oh, he wanted to play a game? Be my guest.
“Just making sure you’re ready,” I said and shoved two fingers of my
other hand right between his lips. He sucked and licked and moaned,
lathering my fingers with his saliva. “Good boy,” I rumbled once I extracted
my digits from him and reached around him.
I spread his cheeks apart with my other hand, then rubbed his pucker
with the fingers he’d slicked up. Tim tensed above me, his cock flexing and
smacking against my stomach.
“Ready for what, Daddy?” he whispered, eyelids fluttering. I popped
one finger in and wiggled it, waiting for him to relax and let me in further.
He dug his fingers into my shoulders, his body drawn tight, just like his ass.
“Shhh, relax...” I had to give it to him, the way he gasped and moaned,
head tilted back, was incredibly arousing and erotic. “You need to have
something thick in your ass that fills you up, yeah?”
Tim exhaled quickly, eyes wide as he stared down at me with those
innocent, big eyes. “Daddy?” The sound came out all high and squeaky.
Fuck. The boy sure knew how to get my engine going. I used the moment to
slide my finger deeper inside, crooking it in search of the spot that would
make him come undone. Tim kept gazing at me as though he couldn’t
believe what was happening, as though he hadn’t been the one to kick off
this entire charade. And then, there it was. That place inside him that made
his eyes roll back.
Tim’s breathing picked up, and his hips bucked relentlessly.
His precum-covered cockhead nudged against my stomach, the juices
catching in the fine hairs there. I tapped my fingertip against his prostate.
He whimpered loudly. He’d been pretty vocal the first time we’d hooked
up, but this was a different kind of noise. He wasn’t playing a role anymore.
Instead, his head fell forward, and he muttered a stream of curses while his
cock nudged me over and over again.
“That’s right, baby,” I hummed as he fucked himself on my finger,
stomach tight and muscles on display. “You need more, don’t you?”
Tim nodded, lost for words, whimpering through his lips, which were
locked together. Seeing him like this, reckless and horny, made my dick
strain so hard it was ready to tear through the fabric of my briefs. He fucked
himself onto my finger, strangled cries piercing through the air until a body
tremor rolled through him. I knew he was close to coming. Right then, I
uncrooked my finger and withdrew it swiftly.
“Oh God, please,” he muttered. Tears sprang to his eyes. So desperate.
So unhinged. And yet sincere. I grabbed the sides of his ass and wiggled the
tight flesh, then smacked his cheeks. While I relished the growing tension
between us, Tim couldn’t wait any longer. One of his hands shot down and
pulled out my erection, fumbling to get the wet fabric off the tip. “Put it in,
put it in, please.”

—Timothee
My eyes closed tightly, wet lashes sealing together, and I dropped my
forehead onto Devon’s shoulder. I got his underwear down, wrapped both
hands around his thick shaft, and pumped it slowly. I teased my thumbs
across the head, smearing the precum and teasing the edges of his foreskin.
He twitched in my hand, stomach muscles tensing as he smacked one of my
ass cheeks. I whimpered and squirmed, arching my back and bucking my
hips. “Please,” I breathed. “Need it. Need it in me, Daddy. So empty.”
Devon’s hands left my ass, and he twisted his fingers through my hair
and yanked my head back. His lips brushed over my throat, across my
Adam’s apple, and I shuddered and sobbed. “Don’t worry, baby,” he purred.
“I’m going to fill you up so good.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, dragging my nails across his chest. “Fill me,
Daddy. Please. Fill me.”
Devon let go of my hair and leaned back. I opened my eyes. “Be
Daddy’s good boy and get a condom for me,” he said, jerking his head
toward the nightstand.
 I whined at that and pawed at his stomach, kneading the flesh like I was
a kitten. “But,” I pouted, “I don’t want a condom. I want you to pump me
full of your cum, Daddy. I want it to drip out of me.”
Devon growled and cupped my chin, digging his fingers into my skin.
“Do what I fucking say, you little brat, or you’ll regret it.” Another wave of
that delicious anger rolled over him, and I whimpered, licking my lips.
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be good for you. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He pushed me back. He crossed his arms beneath his head, watching me
closely as I shifted back up his body again. My cock rubbed against his
stomach, and I met his eyes as I reached over and tugged the drawer of the
nightstand open. I plucked a condom from the box and, resting back on his
thighs, I held it out to him.
A smirk ghosted Devon’s lips, and he shook his head. “Uh-uh,” he
cooed, dropping his gaze to his cock. “You do it for Daddy.”
I purred at that and wiggled a bit. “Oh, yes, Daddy. I can do it for you,”
I said, scooting back. I lowered myself onto my elbows, my cock pressed
against his legs, and my breath tickled over the head of his erection.
Peering up at him through my lashes, I tore the wrapper open with my
teeth, then slid the condom out of its package. I hummed and flicked my
tongue out, tasting him. Devon let out a sigh and brushed his fingers
through my hair. “Come on, boy. Don’t tease now,” he murmured, giving a
sharp tug that made me moan.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. Your cock is just so thick. I can’t help but play with
it,” I said sweetly, peeking back up and rubbing my lips against the
underside of his cock. “It looks so good. So tasty. I want your cum, Daddy.”
“Later.” Devon rubbed his fingers across my cheek. “Later, baby. Now
come on. Daddy wants to stuff you full.”
I placed the condom on the tip of his cock, and as I rolled it down, I put
my lips around him and licked at the head. I didn’t like the taste of latex,
but I liked the way his muscles tensed and twitched as I lapped at him.
When the condom rested snuggly around the base of his cock, I pushed
myself away. “There, Daddy,” I said proudly. “I did it for you. Can I have it
now?”

—Devon
 “Fuck, yes, that’s a good boy. Come up here.” I dragged him up by his
hair until Tim gasped and mewled, his thighs spread as he straddled me. I
didn’t leave him much time to adjust himself. I grabbed my dick and angled
it between his ass cheeks, seeking out his entrance. When the tip of my
cock nudged at it, Tim’s eyes popped open, and his hands flew to my chest,
pressing down.
“Hold on. Oh, fuck.”
Clenching my jaw, I yanked him back in place as he wiggled, clearly
trying to play me some more. “Stay still,” I snarled and twisted my hand in
his hair so hard he had to tilt his head back.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. I lifted my hips a little. His erection was
hard as a rock against my stomach. When the tip of my cock popped in, a
high-pitched cry left my boy’s lips. His cheeks puffed out, and he exhaled
sharply, scratching his nails over my chest. “Yes, Daddy! Gimme that fat
dick!”
Tim had a filthy mouth, one he’d used on other men before me. I drew
my hand from his hair and clapped it over his lips, then snapped my hips up
hard, driving all the way inside him. He keened and gasped against my hand
while I locked him in with one arm, holding him against me.
“Shhh,” I cooed. My length throbbed inside him, stretching his hole
impossibly. “You’ll take it, all of it, and then, if you’re hungry for more, I’m
gonna stuff my balls in there too, you hear?” Tim made a sobbing sound
against my hand but didn’t attempt to remove it. His thighs spread further as
though he was trying to make room for me. I was half sitting, half lying on
the bed when I fucked up into his hole. So tight, so perfect for my dick to
sink into. Mine, mine, mine. He had a half inch of my dick left to take,
bucking back up when I tried to stuff it in. I held on to his throat and
muffled his sounds with my hand while I slowly—oh-so slowly—inserted
the rest of my shaft into his ass until my balls hit his cheeks.
“Oh, yeah,” I grunted. Tim’s eyes rolled back. His cock was dripping
precum onto my stomach, which flexed each time I thrust into him. “Fuck,
that’s a good ass. Nice and tight.” I opened my eyes. Tim gazed down at
me, his hands on either side of my shoulders, body tensing each time I
snapped my hips up. I picked up the pace, willing him to close his eyes, but
he didn’t. I let my hand fall away from his lips and grabbed his throat with
both hands, only to lock him in place. He was silent but for soft moans and
sighs, no dirty words. Nothing of the sort.
 I began to pound him silly, and my balls slapped against his ass. His lips
were parted, his hair flopped around wildly, but his eyes stayed fixed on
me. He swallowed against my grip and met my rapid thrusts, and his body
went from loose to taut within seconds. And then he whispered breathily,
“Dad, oh fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—”

—Timothee
Devon hadn’t even touched my dick yet, and I was already about to
come. All I had was the friction of his stomach, precum, and sweat mixing
on his skin. He’d gotten me so close to the edge before we’d even started
fucking that I was spinning out of control. My body was sensitive, and
Devon was pounding mercilessly up into me, battering my prostate, and
stretching me wide. “Dad, oh God, Dad,” I whimpered, tilting my head
back. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. My whole body was wound
up.
“Come on,” Devon growled. He sharply lifted his hips up and sank deep
into me. “Come on, boy.”
“Daddy!”
Control was taken away from me, and my cry echoed around the room
as my orgasm hit me hard. I jerked against him, slamming down onto his
cock with enough force that his hips bounced against the mattress. My
fingers scrambled for purchase, nails digging into his chest as I tried to
support myself. I trembled, and my cock twitched, shooting cum across
Devon’s chest in one massive load, then gushing in pulses from the tip of
my cock.
I brought my hand down, wrapped it around my shaft, and stroked
quickly. I clenched around Devon’s cock so tight he couldn’t even fuck up
into me. He grabbed my hips and held on tight. Cum slicked my fingers,
and I shuddered hard as I touched my sensitive cock, drawing even more
come from my balls. Pulling every last drop from them.
“Daddy.” I slumped onto him. I was panting, flushed, and sweaty, with
my forehead against his shoulder. “God, so good.”
Devon’s grip tightened around my hips, and he shifted, hauled me off
him, and threw me onto the bed. I bounced on the mattress, facing the wall.
I was dazed from my orgasm, and it took me a moment to realize Devon
wasn’t in me any longer. “Roll over,” he ordered, his hand around his cock.
“Ass in the air, stomach on the bed.”
“Wh-What?” I blinked.
“Do it!” Devon growled through clenched teeth. He rose to his knees,
his hand around his cock, squeezing at the base like he was trying to fight
off his orgasm.
Limbs heavy, body ready for rest, I rolled onto my stomach and brought
my knees under me, pressing them against my stomach as I curled up.
Devon laid his hand to the side of my ass, holding me in place as he scooted
closer. He didn’t ease himself in this time but slammed all the way in to the
base, his balls smacking against my ass. Grunting, he dug his fingertips into
my ass and fucked me again.
My body rocked with each thrust, and my breath caught in my chest.
Each time he snapped his hips forward, I whined, a low, steady sound. I was
out of it, completely dazed. He was overwhelming me, sending shocks
through my body that made my limbs twitch. “Do you want Daddy’s cum?”
he growled.
“Yes, Daddy. Want it. Want it. Want it so bad.” My fingers clawed at the
sheets, and I hid my face.
“Good boy.”
Devon pulled out, leaving me gapping and empty, then the snap of the
latex. He was stroking himself. I could tell from the way his hand bumped
into my ass and the tip of his cock grazed against my entrance. He was
getting himself off, dick pointed right at my hole, ready to glaze it. “Oh,
Daddy, please. Need your cum. Need it in me, Daddy.”

—Devon
It took me mere seconds before my cum splashed all over him. The urge
to breach his hole was almost overwhelming with Tim spreading his ass
cheeks and presenting himself in the most obscene way. I gasped for air,
squeezing my hand to the tip of my erection while my muscles contracted. I
shook with pure bliss. My thoughts were wiped clear, and my vision
flickered black while my head spun from lust and the alcohol trickling
through my bloodstream.
“Fuuuuuck,” I grunted out and pressed one hand onto his tailbone to pin
him in place. He wiggled his ass the faintest bit while my seed pooled
around his clenching entrance. I was one breath away from stuffing my cum
into him. Tim swiped his fingers through the white, gooey mess of semen
and tucked his fingers into his ass, trying to push it in there.
“Christ!” I smacked his ass so hard he cried out into the sheets, and his
fingers stilled. “You’re so fucking dirty,” I managed to say and then sat
back on my haunches, watching Tim pushing my seed into his ass. I felt hot
and cold all at once, my heart working overtime at the image of my son
being so depraved.
“No fucking condom next time,” he grumbled into the sheets, eyes
closed and fingers popping in and out of his ass. My lips parted at how
wicked he was. Next time.
“You like how Daddy fucks you, yeah?”
“Hell yes,” Tim muttered. He finally seemed to have gathered up every
last drop he could find. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees,
then looked back, ass high up in the air. His pucker pulsed softly, forcing
out a trickle of cum. Tim whimpered as it dripped down his taint and balls.
I couldn’t watch any longer, and I used one of my fingers to shove it
right inside him. Tim yelped. The breath was knocked out of him so
violently he scooted forward. I found his prostate quickly and fisted his
half-hard cock between his thighs. They trembled as I wiggled my finger
across the spot inside him. He moaned and chanted my name until he cried
out, “Dad! Yes! OhmyGod.”

—Timothee
"Clean yourself up. You're making a mess of my sheets." Devon tossed
a washcloth at me, the wet fabric landing against my lower back and
making me wince.
"That's fucking cold!" I protested.
My ass was still in the air, but my breathing returned to normal. Devon
had made me come again and then had me suck his fingers clean. Then he'd
headed into the bathroom to clean up, and I’d just lain there, happy and
filled with his cum. I didn't want to move, didn't want to ruin the moment,
because I was in pure bliss, but Devon obviously didn't care. And now he
was throwing shit at me.
"C'mon, kid." Devon yawned. "You're in my fucking way."
 Sighing, I pushed myself to my knees and grabbed the washcloth. I
wiped myself quickly, cleaning off the cum as best I could. When I was
done, I tossed the rag back to Devon, who was standing beside the bed,
lighting up two cigarettes. "There. Happy?" I huffed.
"You're doing the laundry tomorrow." He climbed into bed and pushed
me out of the way, then leaned back against the wall and held a cigarette out
to me.
"Why?" I moved and sat next to him, inhaling slowly.
"You're the one who got cum on them. You're the one washing them,"
he said matter-of-factly.
"You made me come! So it’s your fault," I reasoned.
"No."
Grumbling, I blew my smoke in his direction and sulked. "Fine," I said.
Devon eyed me. "You do know how to do laundry, right?" he asked.
"Oh God, yes! I'm not an idiot."
Devon shrugged. "Can't be sure until I ask."
"Mean. What are you going to be doing while I do all the manual
labor?"
"Finding you a job." He flicked his ashes into the glass next to him.
"You got an idea?"
"Maybe." He shrugged. "Now stop asking questions, finish your
cigarette, and go to sleep."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Daddy."

—Devon
“The kid is your son?” Gunther blinked at me in apparent shock,
standing behind the counter of his tattoo shop. I groaned and nodded.
“Yeah, couldn’t believe it either. But when you see him, you’ll notice.
He’s one hardcore brat and snarky as hell. He took Jason up on a pool
challenge, for God’s sake. And won.”
“You’re shittin’ me.” Gunther snorted and shook his head. “Like father,
like son.”
“Save it,” I snapped at him and braced my hands on the counter
between us. “He needs a job.”
“Oh no.” Gunther laughed and tilted his head to Fiona in the back,
working on a client. “She’s enough trouble already.”
 “Then I need a favor.”
“Dev, you know I like ya, but what’s your son gonna do in my shop?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheeks and looked around. It was a small
shop on a busy street in a sketchy part of town. Gunther had plenty of
clients, but he wasn’t very tech-savvy, so I figured he could need a hand.
“Well, he could make the client’s appointments? Clean up after your shit?
Answer emails? I dunno, man, I’m not the one running this shop.”
Gunther chuckled and flipped through the large notebook on the counter
that still functioned as a calendar. Middle ages. Then he looked back over
his shoulder at the room full of clutter. “Well, can’t hurt to look at the guy.
How old is he?”
“Seventeen,” I told him truthfully because Gunther was a friend after
all.
He shook his head and sighed. “He can come in and introduce himself.
Perhaps I’ll find something for him. I’ll talk to Fiona. No promises.”
“Thanks.”
“Now get outta here. I don’t want ya scaring any clients away.” I
grinned and pushed off the counter.
“Yes, sir.”

—Timothee
When I woke up, Devon was gone, which meant I had the apartment all
to myself. I was getting more comfortable in Devon’s space, feeling like it...
well, it wasn’t quite home, but it was something close to it. It was a steady
place to stay and one I wasn’t about to get evicted from so that was all I
really needed. I liked having a feeling of stability. Even if Devon was
unpredictable, this was all I had.
I poured myself a glass of orange juice and poked and prodded around
the apartment. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just something
interesting. Perhaps something that would prove Devon was deeper than he
seemed. Maybe he liked poetry or drew sketches like I did. Or maybe I
could find out what he did for a living, since he wouldn’t tell me.
All my clothes were still in my duffle bag. I hadn’t bothered going
through his wardrobe, and now was a good time for that. I set my glass on
top of it and pulled open the drawers at the bottom. There was nothing in
the lowest one but clothes that looked like they hadn’t been worn in years. I
found an old box of condoms in the middle drawer. Nothing interesting
there either. And then I went through the top drawer, moving the clothes
around and sliding my hands along the side. They bumped into something
hard and cold. I pushed back a stack of underwear and revealed a gun.
Oh. I doubted that was for anything good. Where I’d lived before, a lot
of people had guns, but a lot of people there hunted too. Devon didn’t strike
me as the type to go out to the woods hunting deer. This wasn’t a hunting
gun. This was a handgun. Holy shit.
Quickly, I put everything back into place and pushed the drawer shut.
Another sip of my orange juice and I pulled open the doors of the top half
of the wardrobe. There wasn’t much in there, but when I stood on my toes, I
saw a lockbox at the back of the upper shelf. I tugged it forward and
examined it carefully. I brushed my finger over the lock, clucking my
tongue against my teeth. I desperately wanted to know what was in it, but I
needed a key.
I’d have to turn over every inch of this apartment to try and find it.

By the time Devon got home, everything was back in place. Unfortunately,
I hadn’t managed to get into the lockbox. I was sitting at the kitchen table
with my sketchpad, practically at the edge of my seat as I waited for him. I
could probably have gotten away with pretending I hadn’t looked through
his stuff, but my curiosity wasn’t going to let me silently sit here and
pretend I didn’t know he had a gun and a secret box of mystery.
“Good news,” Devon stated, tossing his car keys onto the kitchen
counter and heading toward the fridge. “I managed to g—”
“Why do you have a gun?” I cut him off, not caring if he’d managed to
get me a job or not. There were more important things I needed to know.
Devon paused with the fridge opened and his hand outstretched toward
the beer. “What?” He looked at me over his shoulder.
“I found a gun in your drawer,” I said, closing my sketchpad. “Why do
you have it? Are you a hitman? Are you a criminal? What do you do for a
living? I don’t think that it’s anything good.”

—Devon
 Had I heard him right? I wasn’t sure, but the way he fixed me with that
ice-cold stare I couldn’t miss it. I slammed the fridge door shut, took a step
closer, and before he could do anything, grabbed him by the ear and pulled
him off his chair. Then I twisted my fingers.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Tim cried, trying to get me to let him go. He had gone
through my shit like it was his to fucking go through. I pushed him against
the wall next to the kitchen counter and pinned him there with a hand on his
throat. “Jesus! Fuck!” he exclaimed.
“How do you know I own a gun?” I said through clenched teeth and
squeezed his throat tighter until he put all his effort into pulling me off him.
“I just fucking found it!” he hissed out, nails scratching down my
forearm, leaving red stripes. I pressed my thumb below his Adam’s apple
and made him gag until he stopped struggling.
“You crossed a fucking line, you hear?” Tim’s lips parted, the fight
leaving him. His toes barely touched the ground as I held him there. I was
livid, fucking fuming with rage. Here I was, trying to find a job for him
while he was going through my shit. “What I do doesn’t concern you, and if
I ever find you going through my things again, I’m gonna fucking hurt
you.”
Seconds ticked by in silence as I waited for him to acknowledge what
I’d said. He didn’t. So I raised my voice, “Are we clear?”

—Timothee
“Yes, sir,” I spat at him. Any amount of comfort I had found with him
had faded just like that. I’d started to think of us as, maybe not friends, but
something close to it. We’d played around, we’d fucked, and we’d been
getting along. It was easy to get comfortable around him. To forget he was
just a fucking asshole who didn’t really care about me. I was convinced the
only reason he didn’t put me on the street like he said he would was that he
was afraid of what I would tell people.
He let go of my throat, glaring at me. I slumped against the wall and
rubbed at my neck. “Fucking brat,” he snapped. It didn’t look like he was
finished with me. His hands tightened into fists at his side as he scanned me
over.
“Oh fuck you,” I hissed. “How do you know I didn’t want to try to
make room so I could put my shit away? I’m living out of a fucking bag,
and my clothes are getting wrinkled.”
Devon ground his teeth. “That’s because you’re not staying here for
long,” he said. “Don’t get comfortable. The moment you get this job and
start making enough money, you’re getting the fuck outta here.”
“But…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to go. I liked having someone to live
with. Even if it was Devon.
“No fucking buts.” He jabbed his finger at me. “I told you, I’m not a
good guy. I’m not going to be your fucking father.”
It sucked how much that actually hurt me, but I didn’t say anything.
Shouldering past him, I headed over to the table and grabbed my sketchpad.
“I’m going out,” I said dryly and stormed toward the door.
Devon followed after me. “Where are you going?”
“Does it fucking matter?” I shot back. “You can’t fucking control me.
You’re not the fucking boss of me.”

—Devon
“Another.” The glass thumped onto the counter, and by this point, I had
no freaking idea which poison I’d just swallowed down. My vision got
fuzzy at the edges, and my tongue felt heavy.
“Dev, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“Another!” My voice was loud. The young man beside me flinched.
Usually, I’d have made a pass at him but not tonight. Tonight I had to
forget. My anger. My son. My miserable fucking life. James strutted closer
and refilled my glass with more of whatever he was pouring. I grunted
when he stopped and nicked my head at him. More.
“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath, but I still heard him.
“Not quite,” I mumbled gruffly, remembering the first time I’d met
Timothee, that sneaky fuck. I’d taken my gun with me to the bar, tucked
under my sweater; I didn’t want to take any chances. That boy wasn’t to be
trusted with something like this. He could blow his freaking brains out. Not
only had it scared me that he might find out what I did for a living, what a
fucking failure I was, but I’d also been afraid he could hurt himself with it.
But God was I terrible at showing it.
“Hey.” A smooth voice came from beside me, and I turned my head,
blinking away the blurriness. I held my glass midair, ready to take a sip.
The man had one arm on the counter, standing sideways next to my seat. He
was new. Young. Early twenties maybe? Red, shaggy hair, freckles across
his cheeks.
I huffed out a greeting and took a big gulp of my drink, which burned
down my throat. “Need someone to talk to?” the young man asked. My
mouth curled up at the sides as I put the glass back down. “Somewhere
more private?”
Sheesh.
I eyed him up and down. He was handsome in a soft, feminine kind of
way. I had to give him that. And too bloody young. But there was no spark.
No explosion of desire. No fervent mating of lips and hands and bodies. He
didn’t do anything for me.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” he probed.
I snorted. “Yeah, go. Scout someone else.”
“Why? We can talk, and you can see if you’d…”
“Wanna fuck you?” I replied boldly, meeting those dark, deer-like eyes.
He was beautiful. But so wrong. Another swallow emptied this drink too.
“Boy, go.”
“If you’d just—”
“Christ!” I shoved my glass across the counter and slid from my seat. I
had to hold on to the bar so I wouldn’t lose my balance. The redhead didn’t
budge, just held my gaze. I curled my fingers around the edge of the
counter, chest heaving. Then the dam broke down, and my thoughts raced
out. “I never wanted to fucking meet you, and yet you just invaded my life
like a fucking parasite. And now? Now I cannot stop thinking about your
stupid face and those stupid eyes. And God, how much you remind me of
myself and how much I wanna bend you over a chair, a table, a bed and
fuck you raw. But I’m not your fucking Daddy. I’m not paying for your
shit. You know why? Because I’m poor as fuck and you’re better off
without me. So just leave me the hell alone already.”

—Timothee
Devon was gone a lot longer than I thought he would be. He’d grabbed
his gun and stormed out of the apartment, mumbling curses at me the entire
time.
 I was hurt, and I was pissed at him, but I didn’t want him to be angry at
me. He could kick me out at any time if I pushed his buttons too much. I
didn’t want that. Not when he, in the midst of all his yelling, had said he’d
found me a potential job. Not when I still didn’t know anyone. Well, I knew
Jason, but I didn’t think he would be too willing to help me out either. He’d
fuck me, but I was sure he’d toss me right back on the street after that.
Sex was the only weapon I had at my disposal, and so that was what I
had planned to use on Devon. I’d taken a shower and gotten myself all
prepped and ready for when he got home. I didn’t even bother putting my
pajamas on, lying naked on the bed with my sketchbook and drawing as I
waited for him. I figured he would go out, blow off some steam, and then he
would come back and we could fuck. Everything would be okay after that.
But he didn’t come back.
An hour passed. Then two. And then nearly five.
It was well past midnight when I gave up on waiting for him. I set my
sketchbook on the table and slipped back into bed, settling right into the
center, on my stomach with my arms curled up under my head and the
sheets around my waist. I actually fell asleep pretty quickly and slept better
without Devon there. I liked having him close, but he was like a fucking
furnace. When he wasn’t pressed right against me, I was a lot cooler and
didn’t sweat as much. So that was nice.
I was jerked out of my sleep by the door bursting open... I glanced over
my shoulder, and frowned. “The fuck are you doing?” I grumbled.
Devon stood in the doorway, swaying for a moment, then stepped in and
slammed the door shut behind him. So hard the walls shook. He was still
several feet from the bed when the overwhelming scent of alcohol hit me. I
closed my eyes again and shook my head. “Ugh. You’re fucking drunk,” I
said, burying my face back in my arms. He was breathing hard. He didn’t
say anything but snatched the sheets from around my waist. “Hey! What the
fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The mattress sunk as he sat onto it, his hands going between my
shoulder blades and pressing me into the bed. “Shut up,” he growled. “Shut
up, kid.”
I squirmed against him, trying to pull away, but he was strong and
pinned me onto the bed, then tossed his legs over my waist and held me in
place. “Lemme go!” I demanded.
—Devon
I’d always been a fan of washing away my sins. Everything I’d done.
Everyone I’d hurt. The man I’d killed. But this I couldn’t wash away. I
remembered snippets of last night, the way he’d begged me to stop. The
way he’d begged me for more. It was all one blur of words and movements
that was impossible for me to catch up on. I scrubbed my face clean and
then lathered up my hair. When I left the bed, Tim had still been asleep, the
sheets pulled off his lower half. Bruises marked his hips, and his ass was
slick with what appeared to be cum. My cum.
The sheer realization of what I’d done was what had driven me out of
bed and in the shower. I’d been furious with him last night, so I wasn’t sure
why we’d had sex in the first place. Without a condom too, it seemed like.
Christ.
I stood under the shower way longer than usual. I’d shed my clothes in
the bathroom, and they covered the tiles in a pile of fabric. Only when my
fingertips began to go soft did I turn off the water and grab a towel. I
rubbed my body dry, then my hair, and wiped the fogged-up mirror clean.
My head was pounding with the worst headache of my life, and my senses
were still hazy. I felt as though I was moving underwater. The only light
came from overhead, a single light bulb, shining down on my pale features.
I looked like hell. Unshaven, hungover, dark circles under my eyes.
I hadn’t been myself last night; I knew that much. I shouldn’t have
fucked him when I’d wanted him gone. But did I want him gone? Now I
wasn’t even sure of that. But one thing I knew: for the first time in my life, I
had to apologize.

—Timothee
My entire body ached when I woke up. In fact, that was what woke me
up. I shifted on my stomach, and pain sparked through my lower half,
shooting up my spine. I whimpered quietly, burying my face back in the
blankets and letting out a soft sigh. Bad, bad, bad.
It had been a long time since sex had left me so sore and moving
seemed out of the question for a moment. Devon had been rough, really
rough, and then he’d forced himself on me. I felt... gross. The after always
felt gross. There was dried cum along my skin, on the blankets, on my
stomach. Sweat had coated my body, and although I was dry now, I still felt
gritty. I needed a drink and a shower, but moving really didn’t seem like it
was going to happen anytime soon.
I adjusted one of my legs, trying to wake it up. More pain. I squeezed
my eyes shut, whining. I’d been in this situation before, and all I could do
was lie around until the pain faded enough so I could get up and take some
painkillers. Devon was in the bathroom. The shower shut off, but I doubted
he would even acknowledge me after what had happened. If he even
remembered. It was up to me to take care of myself, and I could do it just
fine. Once I got the energy up to move.
Keeping my eyes down, I focused on my breathing and tried to fall back
asleep. Then the bathroom door opened. Devon’s feet thudded across the
floor to the kitchen, and the fridge opened and closed quickly. He moved
back the way he came, diverting to the bed and settling on the edge of it so
it sunk. “Hey, kid?” He almost sounded unsure.
“Hm?” I looked up at him. He was staring at me quietly with an
unreadable expression.
“Here,” he said, holding out a bottle of water and several orangish pills
in his hand. “Pain pills.”
I blinked, hesitating for a moment, then pushed myself up on one hand.
I winced, and Devon looked away, waiting for me to take his offered items.
I grabbed the pills first, popped them into my mouth, then took the bottle,
untwisted it, and filled my mouth. I swallowed the pills and drank greedily
for a moment, then held the bottle back out to him. “Thanks,” I said, voice
still a little dry.
Devon nodded. He ground his teeth together, his fingers tightening
around the bottle. “Look, kid…” He cleared his throat and spoke slowly
like the words were actually painful for him to say. “I wanted to...
apologize... for last night.”
“Uh…” Well, I hadn’t been expecting that. I dropped back onto the bed
and curled my arms around the pillows. “You... don’t have to apologize. It’s
just something that happens. It doesn’t really matter.”
Devon’s eyes bored into mine. “No, what I did wasn’t right.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
“I’m truly sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“It’s okay,” I mumbled. “I accept your apology.” That seemed to satisfy
him. Devon nodded mutely, then rose to his feet.
“I have to go out. I’ll be back soon.”
 “Where are you going? Can I come with you?”
“You can barely sit up,” Devon said matter-of-factly, although I could
tell he was concerned.
“I’ll be fine soon. Please?”

—Devon
“Well, well, well, you weren’t kiddin’ when you said he was your son,”
Gunther said and shook Tim’s hand with one big, calloused paw. “Man, he
looks just like you. What’s your name again, kid?”
Tim slipped his hand out of Gunther’s grasp and shifted in place; he still
had to be in pain from last night. “Timothee.”
“What a fancy name.” Gunther flashed me a grin across Tim’s shoulder.
“Seventeen, are ya?” Tim gave a curt nod. “So, you’re looking for a job,
right?”
“Yeah.” I roamed around Gunther’s shop and glanced at his tattoo artist
in the back of the small space. She was busy with a client, as always. Her
hands and arms were covered in tattoos, so was her neck, and she had
multiple piercings. Lips, eyebrows, nose, ears.
I let Gunther explain what he was looking for. Apparently, he did need a
sort of assistant, running the shop while he was out. Answering the phone,
replying to emails, checking the calendar, cleaning the space, the
equipment. Tim was quiet for most of the conversation, listening intently.
So I slouched down in one of the two chairs by the door and flipped through
a book full of tattoos. I had a lot of tats myself. Some from Gunther just
wanting to try something new, some because I really wanted them. I’d spent
too much money to count on ink these past few years.
I was halfway through the pictures when Gunther clapped his big hands.
“All right, Timmy, let’s try this out.” Tim came over to me, and I
straightened in my seat.
“He wants me to work for him today, try it out.” I nodded, though I
hadn’t expected Gunther to start with him so soon. I tossed the book back
onto the glass table. When I got up, Tim tilted his head a little. Was he
going to grow taller within the next couple of years, or would we always be
a bit different when it came to our height?
“Are you gonna be all right?” I whispered.
 “I think so. The meds helped.” Fuck, I still felt terrible about it. He
seemed to have forgiven me already, though, which I couldn’t quite believe.
“Here.” I dug out some dollar bills from my pants pocket and handed
two tens over. “Get something to eat while you’re here and tell Gunther to
call me once he lets you go tonight. I’m off doing business.” Tim tentatively
accepted the money. “I’ll be at home when you get back.” He nodded,
strangely quiet, folding the dollar bills.
“Thanks for this,” he mumbled.
It was the least I could do, really. Especially after last night. I checked if
Gunther was in the room, which he wasn’t, and cupped the back of Tim’s
head and pulled him toward me. My lips landed on his forehead, and I
closed my eyes. “Be a good boy and make me proud, yeah?”
He nodded, his hands twisting in the sides of my shirt, crushing the
dollar bills. “I’m gonna make you proud, Daddy.” This time, his words held
no mocking twist. They were genuine and soft like he really meant them.

—Timothee
Gunther was surprisingly nice for someone who was friends with
Devon. I’d kind of had the feeling all the people he associated with would
be horrible criminals who were perpetually grumpy, just like him. Gunther
was the opposite of that, though maybe it was because Devon was my dad.
He showed me around the shop, introduced me to his main artist, and then
put me to work cleaning.
It was a rather easy job, and Gunther said I would probably have a lot of
downtime. Most of the time, the shop wasn’t very busy. On Friday and
Saturday evenings they usually got all their walk-ins from the neighboring
bars, but the rest of the week was mellow. It honestly sounded like a perfect
place to work. Gunther even told me to bring something to keep myself
entertained during the downtime.
I’d just finished wiping up the counter when the woman who’d been
working in the back, Fiona was her name, approached me. Her customer
had just left, and she snapped off her latex gloves and offered me a grin.
“So, you’re Devon’s kid, huh?” she asked, scanning me over.
“That’s what I’ve been told,” I said, shoving my hands into my jean
pockets as I looked at her quietly. She was really pretty, in an alternative
kind of way, and she was also kind of terrifying. Just by the way she carried
herself, I could tell she would have no problem kicking ass.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter, and cocked her
head to the side. “I can see it. You do look like him.” Her lips curled up into
a smirk. “But like a less cranky version of him.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I tried to resist the urge
to laugh. “He’s not that bad.”
Fiona scoffed. “If you were to ask me who the last person I’d expect to
be a parent is... well, I’d say me, but Devon is on that list as well,” she said.
“I can’t imagine him being a dad. It just doesn’t fit his personality.”
I shrugged. “He’s not really... it’s kind of hard to explain.” I still didn’t
really consider him my father. I hadn’t known him for most of my life after
all, and... we were fucking. “I don’t think our relationship will be the
subject of any heartwarming father and son movies, you know? But he’s not
a bad guy.”
She laughed at that and nodded. “Well, as long as he doesn’t act like a
complete ass to you, we can take that as a win,” she said, straightening up.
“Now, if he does act like an ass, just call me, and I’ll take care of it for
you.”
“Oh?”
She smirked. “Yeah. Devon will listen to me. I’ll make him listen.”
I smiled faintly. I could honestly believe that. “Okay,” I told her. “I’ll
use you as a threat if he’s mean to me.”
“Good.” She clapped my shoulder. “Now, you hungry?”
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Cool, let me clean up my area, and then we can go get something to
eat. There’s this great diner around the corner, the greasiest food you’ll ever
eat, but so fucking good. Sounds all right?”
“Yeah!” I grinned, nodding eagerly.
“Won’t be too long, kid,” she said with a smile on her face. “I’ll be right
back.”

Fiona paid for our meal, and we sat together in a booth, chatting about
nothing for over an hour. She didn’t seem too concerned about getting back
to the shop, and I was starting to really like her chill attitude. She told me a
bit about herself, about her life, and I was completely enraptured with her.
She was like that cool aunt I’d always wished I’d had. She had tattoos and
piercings and three black cats she’d saved off the street. She had no time for
marriage or kids, and she was planning on going on a month-long road trip
on her motorcycle in the future. She wanted to see the desert.
She was way too fucking cool.
And she offered to take me home when my day ended. On her fucking
bike.
While Gunther called Devon to tell him I was on my way home, she led
me out back. Her motorcycle was gorgeous. A big beast of a thing that was
all chrome and bright neon colors. It was also covered in drawings she had
done, cute and spunky cartoon characters.
I loved it.
“This is really fucking cool,” I said, tracing my finger across the front of
the bike.
She grinned, grabbing her helmet and plopping it on. She had a spare
helmet I could wear, and she set it on top of my head. “Thanks,” she said. “I
spent way too much money on it, but she’s my baby.”
She buckled her helmet, put the visor down, and tossed her leg over the
bike, straddling it. She motioned for me to get behind her, and I scrambled
onto the seat, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Is this okay?” I asked
her, holding loosely.
Laughing, she nodded. “Of course, kid,” she said. “Now hold on tight.
Speed limits are only a suggestion.”
Once I was secure, she took off down the street, seemingly reaching 60
MPH in no time at all. The wind was ripping at my clothes, and I felt like I
was going to fall off at any moment as she weaved amongst the cars on the
street. It was the best fucking feeling in the world.

—Devon
“How did he do?” I asked as soon as I picked up my phone with
Gunther’s name flashing across the screen.
“Were you worried he’d fuck up and burn the place down? Dev, your
boy did fine.”
After a long drag on my cigarette, I exhaled and asked, “Really, though,
are you gonna hire him?”
 “Yeah. Fiona seems to like him too.” I stopped pacing in front of my
building; I’d just returned home, and when Gunther called, I figured I could
wait for Tim outside.
“Fiona?” I ground out. God, that woman was nothing but trouble. I
stuck the cigarette between my lips and pinched my brow.
“Yeah, they went out to get something to eat. She’s driving him home
now.”
“On her bike?!” I called out a little too loudly. My voice boomed
through the street, bouncing off the buildings.
A hearty, deep laugh rumbled through the speakers of my phone. I held
it away from my ear, then moved it back. “Oh God, you should hear
yourself. Next thing you’re gonna say ‘that thing ain’t safe.’ ”
“Well, it isn’t,” I grumbled and exhaled the smoke on a rush, stepping
closer to the street in case she was racing down the pavement. Which she
wasn’t. I knew she wasn’t. Because I would hear her coming from miles
away. “No offense, Gunther, but Fiona is a fucking weapon on her own.”
“That’s the reason she works for me, silly.”
I rolled my eyes. A familiar roaring sound emerged from the end of the
street. I used to have a bike myself, and I really loved riding, but my boy on
that woman’s machine? It made me feel hot and cold at the same time.
“Okay, so he’s gonna come in tomorrow or what?”
“Yeah, part time for now, though. Mostly on the weekends.” That made
sense, and it was good because some of my gigs were on the weekends too.
“All right, cool. Thanks for doing this.”
“It’s cool. I won’t be able to pay him much, but he didn’t object, so it’s
all good.”
“Kay... here they come.”
Fiona’s death machine came to an abrupt stop at the other side of the
road. I glared all the way over at her. Fiona and I, well, we weren’t that fond
of each other. I liked her from afar, but if it were up to me, I wouldn’t want
her hanging around my son too much. Unfortunately for me, she’d be doing
so from now on.
“Hey!” Tim called and waved at me from across the road, taking off his
helmet. I slid my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and crossed my
arms, waiting. Tim looked... strangely happy. He was practically glowing
with joy. His hair was all mussed up from the helmet, and when he handed
it back to Fiona, she gave him a one-sided hug. When Tim crossed the
street, he looked radiant. “Hey, Dad,” he said with a smile and stopped right
in front of me. “All good?”
I grunted out a response between a yes and a no and glanced back at
Fiona on her bike. She nodded at me and then started the engine up again. It
roared to life, and as fast as she’d come, she was gone. Tim watched her too
and then said, “Man, she is so cool.” Then and there, I figured that if I
didn’t tell him about what I did, she would eventually give up my secrets.
And strangely enough, I wanted him to hear it from me, not her.

—Timothee
Devon muttered something under his breath as he flicked his cigarette to
the street and promptly grabbed the pack and lit up another one. He inhaled
the smoke deeply, eyeing me as he blew it in my direction. “How was
work?” he asked, almost cautiously.
Beaming, I reached for his cigarettes, having to bounce up on my toes
as he held it over his head. “It was good,” I said, wiggling my fingers until
he relented and gave me the pack. “Gunther is nice, doesn’t know how to
use a computer for shit, though. His online stuff is so bad. I’m gonna see if
he’ll let me create some social media accounts for the shop and stuff. Fiona
already said she’d let me take pictures of the work she does. I’d just have to
ask the other people in the shop if they would too, and then I can post
them!”
Fiona and I had talked about it during dinner. She wasn’t too much into
social media, but she understood it a lot better than Gunther and agreed it
would be a good idea.
I figured with her backing me, he would probably agree. From what
she’d said, she got away with murder when it came to the old man.
“Hm. You seem excited,” Devon said with a hint of a smile. “So you
liked it?”
I shrugged, lighting up and handing him his things back. “Yeah. I did.”
It was nice to be able to get out of the apartment and have something else to
do. When I was back home, I didn’t actually start spending a lot of time at
the house until Mom died. I was usually out, getting into trouble, finding
ways to occupy myself instead of going to school, which I had dropped out
of... which she hadn’t known. “Do I get to go back?”
 Devon nodded. “Yeah. Gunther said it’s only going to be part time, and
he’ll probably rip you off starting out, but he’ll take you,” he said, running
his fingers through his hair and flicking his ashes on the street.
“Cool.” I grinned. I was actually happy about that. At least there was
something to occupy my time, especially when Devon was gone. “Did you
just get home?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Gunther called me. You don’t have a key to get in. Figured I’d just
wait down here.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. “Well, can we go in?”
Devon snorted, rolling his eyes. “I was wondering if you wanted to get
something to eat,” he suggested.
I glanced around. “It’s like... midnight.”
“And? I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m hungry. Plus, there’s something I
want to talk to you about.”
Frowning, I looked up at him. “Are you going to kick me out?” I asked.
“I haven’t even earned any money yet.”
“Sheesh. I just want to talk to you. Don’t be a brat.”
“Well, you said you wanted me out when I started making money,” I
pointed out sheepishly.
“I’m not going to kick you out,” Devon said and took a long drag on his
cigarette. “Now come on. Get in the fucking car, kid.”

Devon took me to a diner very similar to the one we’d had dinner in, only it
was more focused on breakfast food. He let me order what I wanted, a
chocolate chip waffle and coffee, while he got an omelet that seemed to be
stuffed with everything on the menu. While I stirred sugar into my coffee,
Devon sipped at a soda and watched me carefully. “Fuck.” He sighed and
scratched at the scruff on his cheek. “What did you want to talk to me
about?” I asked as I poured more sugar in my coffee.
Devon pursed his lips a bit, glancing up as the waitress brought our
food. My waffle was huge, the size of the plate and topped with melting
chocolate chips. Using my knife, I spread them out while Devon poked at
his omelet. “Remember when you asked me what I did for a living?”
 “When you choked me?” I asked dryly, tilting my head to the side as I
blinked at him.
He looked like he wanted to snap at me, but he didn’t say anything. “Be
serious for a minute. I’ve got to tell you something,” he said. “I don’t want
you to hear it from Fiona.”
Sighing, I cut up my food. “Okay. What do you want to tell me?”

—Devon
I looked down at my omelet, and a strange sense of dread settled over
me. What if he’d despise me after I told him the truth? What if I couldn’t
trust him after all? But then I looked up into his eyes, those big eyes that
always burned their way through to my mind, enrapturing me completely.
So I began, my voice quiet. “When I was your age, I was almost locked
up for murder. Well, I was twenty-one, really, so not your age. But young. I
was a kid, really. ”
Tim’s hands stilled. The sound of the knife on the plate stopped at once.
His eyes widened for a moment; he didn’t blink. “You serious?”
“Yeah. They didn’t charge me, though. Jason’s father bailed me out. He
also arranged an attorney, and that guy figured out how I wouldn’t have to
go to jail.” I cleared my throat and looked down at my plate. It felt strange,
saying these things to someone who was... related to me? Family? Fucking
hell. I hadn’t had family in years. “Well, Jason’s father, Steven, that’s his
name, he cut me a deal. So I was twenty-one and up to my ears in debt.”
“Jesus.” The knife and fork clunked against the edge of the plate, and I
looked up, scanning Tim’s face for any flicker of disgust or… I didn’t know
what. “Half… a million?” I nodded, and my heart raced for some reason.
Perhaps because I rarely ever told the truth.
“That’s my price for freedom.”
“No wonder you live in such a shitty place.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Sorry…” Tim blew out a breath. “Did you do it?”
I couldn’t help but set my jaw, teeth grinding together. I had. But I’d
never admit to it. I blinked once, twice, and chose to ignore the question
because I didn’t want to lie. “Steven offered me a job working for him to
pay off my debt. It was my only option, really. Which is why now I am
essentially…” I lowered my voice a little and leaned forward, locking my
eyes with him. “A thief working on commission.”

—Timothee
I blinked at Devon. We stared at each other for a long moment, his fork
clutched in his hand, stabbed into the egg, but unmoving. “Aren’t you going
to say anything?” he finally demanded.
“Is that seriously it?” I asked. I mean, it was bad. It definitely wasn’t
going to be winning him any father of the year awards, but neither was
fucking me, so I didn’t see how it mattered. He’d been so hesitant about the
whole thing, and I’d thought it was going to be something really bad. I
didn’t particularly care if he stole shit.
“Are you... for fucking real, kid?” Devon huffed. “I’m here, like, trying
to have a proper conversation, admitting why I’m such a bad choice for a
fucking father, and that’s your only damn reaction?”
He seemed offended that I wasn’t upset or scared by the fact that he was
a hardened criminal. He was actually glowering at me, which was just
pouting for men who were too manly to pout. “I thought you were, like, a
hitman or something.” I snorted. “So you steal shit. Whatever. Makes you
no different from like a fucking CEO or something. Everyone steals.”
Devon gaped at me, letting his fork drop to his plate. “I just... I admitted
to being charged with murder,” he hissed at me. “And you’re acting like it’s
nothing.”
I shrugged. “That was like what? Twenty years ago or so?”
“I am not that old!” he protested.
Giggling, I rested my elbows on the tabletop and leaned across it.
“Dad,” I said seriously. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I might not have
the best moral compass. I mean, I seduced you. Even after figuring out who
you are. I don’t care if you’re a criminal. I don’t think it really changes
things between us.”
“I... hm.” Devon shook his head and cupped my cheek. His fingers
pressed into my skin, and he tilted my head back. “Your mother didn’t do a
very good job of raising you to be a productive member of society.”
“She didn’t do any worse than my dad did.”
He snorted and let me go, then finally started to eat. “All right, well, I
guess it’s all out in the open now,” he said. His eyes lifted up again, serious
once more. “And that’s why you need to stay away from Jason. He’s bad
news, and his father is even worse news.”
“Got it, Dad.”

—Devon
Now Tim knew, and he didn’t seem to care much. He just sort of teased
me for how much of a sketchy fucking father I was while we settled into a
bit of a routine throughout the next week. I broke into rich people’s houses
at night, and he went to work during the day. But whenever I would come
home, I’d get to spend time with him in bed. It wasn’t sexual, though, not
after what had happened a week ago when I’d forced myself on him. Tim
had said it wasn’t a big deal when it really, really was. I had been pumped
full of booze and couldn’t remember most of it. I could just recall that Tim
had told me to stop and I hadn’t listened. That was all. And I didn’t want it
to happen again.
It was Saturday. The next day Tim had a day off, and I didn’t have
anything scheduled for the next three days other than seeing Steven and
handing over more money to pay off my debt. A visit I didn’t exactly look
forward to. I unlocked the door to my apartment, where Tim was spread out
on his stomach, sheets tangled around his legs, the window wide open. I
closed the door quietly. When exactly had I started being mindful of his
presence? Making sure I didn’t make too much noise. Buying food and
drinks he liked.
We even went out to get him some more clothes. None of which he was
wearing now. Tim slept naked, and while I didn’t want to take advantage of
him again, I appreciated the sight.
I showered, brushed my teeth, and put on a pair of fresh briefs, then
climbed into bed next to him. I watched him breathe in the darkness, a cold
white light spreading across his side from outside. He looked peaceful like
this, without a care in the world.
Tucking my arm under my pillow, I closed my eyes and tried to drift
away when I felt him shift against me.
“Tim…” I whispered as he turned on his side as well and then bumped
his ass against my crotch, pulling the sheets over us. It was an innocent
move, us spooning, one I shouldn’t be excited about. But as he moved once
more and wiggled his ass, my cock stirred and hardened. I hadn’t gotten off
in a week, and having him around me, so youthful and beautiful, was
making things difficult. Just like the position I was now in, Tim’s bare ass
against my crotch.
“Daddy?” he breathed as I slid my hand over his arm and up his
shoulder, a surprisingly gentle touch.
“Mh?”
It took a moment for him to respond, but then he whispered, “Can you
put it in?”
Tim didn’t even wait for a reply but wedged his hand between us and
cupped my growing erection. I inhaled sharply and, out of reflex, rolled my
hips against his palm. But no, I wouldn’t fuck him, not when he was half-
asleep, and I could barely control myself. “Daddy,” he mewled and
squeezed his fingers around my shaft, then stroked up and down. “I’m
ready, want you in me... mmm.” With that, he hooked one leg higher,
angled it, and exposed his balls and hole to me. He unwrapped his fingers
from my cock and dipped them into his ass, proving to me that he was, in
fact, ready to be penetrated.
“Fuck.” I exhaled as he probed his entrance, easily gliding in and out.
“Mngh, put it in.” Tim grabbed his ass cheek and squeezed it, driving
me nearly insane.
“You want me to fuck you? Now?”
Tim sighed softly and buried his face into the pillow. “I want your dick
in me while you sleep with me. I just wanna feel full. And if you wanna
fuck me, do it. I’m here to keep your dick warm, Daddy.”
Those last words were all I needed to go from half-hard to hammer-
fucking-hard.
I gathered up some spit and then eased my fingers over his hole, finding
it impossibly relaxed while he breathed softly. Like he wasn’t even paying
attention, sleeping peacefully. In a few quick tugs, I freed my hard-on and
lathered it up, then placed the blunt head against his entrance. I folded my
arms around him as he lay half on his side, half on his stomach, appearing
to be asleep. My heart raced at how dirty this was, just filling my boy with
my cock while he was drifting back to sleep.
But it was exactly what I wanted. Not a frantic fuck, just feeling his
tight heat surrounding me. And so I drove into him in one slow glide until
my balls were flush against his ass. He moaned quietly. His insides tensed
as I burrowed my face in the back of his neck. This was unlike anything I’d
ever done before. It was almost intimate. Like a key to a lock, I buried my
dick in my son’s ass, my arms closing around his chest. My eyelids grew
heavy at the rhythm of his breath and heartbeat, and I hooked one leg over
his and pushed in to the hilt. He didn’t even react. He was asleep, and I
wasn’t far behind.

—Timothee
Devon’s lazy thrusting woke me up the next morning. It couldn’t have
been too late. The light filtering through the curtains resembled the washed-
out blue of shortly after sunrise. His hand was on my lower stomach,
holding me in place, and his hips were moving slowly. They were barely
moving. Enough to keep himself buried deep but hardly pulling back. It was
peaceful, the gentle rocking almost lulling me back into sleep. He’d buried
his face in my hair, his breathing hot and soft. The rest of his body was so
still I wasn’t even sure that he was awake. Not until I shifted my hips and
arched my back, wiggling my ass back against him.
Devon was awake, definitely awake because he tossed his legs over
mine and pressed my thighs together as he pulled back farther. His hips
snapped sharply, and my body jerked. Then he rolled them and ground his
cock deep into me.
The tip of his cock nudged my prostate. My erection twitched, and I let
out a little sigh. “Morning, Dad,” I whispered.
Devon dragged his nails over my stomach, thigh muscles flexing as he
used his leg to pull me back against him. “Stay still,” he murmured into my
hair. “Don’t touch yourself, understand?”
“Yeah…” I breathed the word, lashes fluttering as he pulled back and
thrust into me again.
He was moving very deliberately, and it was different from any way we
had fucked before. Our bodies were sealed together, slick with sweat
wherever we touched.
“Good boy,” Devon murmured.
Those words sent a weird flush through me, and my stomach tightened
under his grasp. “Daddy,” I breathed. “It feels so good.”
His breathing picked up pace but Devon didn’t say anything and slid his
fingers lower across my stomach. The side of his hand pressed against the
base of my cock, teasing me with contact but not giving it to me quite yet.
Which was probably a good thing. My body was waking up properly now,
the last of sleep fading away from the corners of my mind. Everything
seemed more intense than usual. My body was hypersensitive, and all those
shocks of pleasure that shot through me when he hit my prostate were
intense.
Precum dribbled from the tip of my cock as he finally grasped it, his fist
around the head. He didn’t stroke me but used the force of his thrusts to
fuck me into his fist. He was moving faster now, grunting with the effort of
it. His hips connected with my ass in soft smacks. He snatched the blanket
with his free hand and tugged it away from us. I gasped and tilted my head
back. “Dad,” I murmured. “Not gonna make it. Please, don’t stop.”
Devon pulled his head away from mine and placed his lips against my
shoulder. His tongue came out to taste the salt. “It’s okay,” he cooed,
twisting his wrist. His hips moved faster now, and I grabbed the blankets,
trying to hold on as he bounced my body forward with each movement.
“You can come for me, baby. Come on. Come for Daddy.”
My head snapped back, thumping against his chest, and I let out a quiet
moan. He gave me permission and I took it, my legs curling slightly and my
muscles tensing. Cum shot from the tip of my cock, landing against my
stomach and dripping along his fingers as he guided me through my
orgasm. “Oh, oh, fuck. Dad,” I panted, rocking onto his cock as I tried to
force every last drop from my balls. “Gimme your cum, Daddy. Gimme.”

—Devon
It felt like a dream, that hot and wet sensation of Tim against me, sealed
to my front while his insides cramped around me, drawing my orgasm from
the depths of my balls. His thighs quivered relentlessly, and he bucked his
hips while his cum splashed over my knuckles, his stomach and chest. I was
in a daze. In a dream. And there was no holding back from this, so I let him
have what he asked for.
The intensity of my orgasm shattered me to pieces, reached down to my
very core, and tore up all those years of holding myself back with any
partner I’d had. I was stripped bare. This was it. I came harder than I’d ever
come before, unable to control the noises I made or the way my body
reacted, a balancing act between pleasure and pain.
 There was no world outside the two of us, joined together. Our bodies
wet with sweat and heavy with sleep. I clung to him and paused to breathe
him in. There was just him: Timothee. His scent, so rich, his warmth, so
pure. I held him as I emptied my load into him, gave him all of me, and
more. I hooked my arms under his armpits, face pressed into his hair when
the edges of my consciousness returned and brightened.
“Oh fuck,” he groaned.
High on endorphins and whatever else this was, I chuckled. Tim moved,
urging me to ease up on my death grip. I did and brushed my hand across
his side, looking down at where my dick was still in his ass. Slowly, I
withdrew, and when it slid out, Tim’s hole dripped with white, creamy cum.
“My God,” I grunted and blinked away spots flickering before my eyes. My
thumb dug into the side of his ass to inspect my work of art. Tim
whimpered into the pillow and presented himself fully, lifting his hips up
for me to examine him. It was one of those filthy things he did that slowly
pushed me toward insanity.
“So beautiful,” I muttered and stroked his ass cheeks, squeezing them so
more of my seed came trickling out. Tim reached back then, his dexterous
fingers slipping between his cheeks to stuff my cum back in. He sighed and
went soft against the mattress.
“Dad?”
I grunted in response and then dropped onto my back, arms splayed out,
catching my breath...
“Can I... buy a plug so next time I can keep your cum inside me?” My
eyes snapped open, and I turned to him. Well, there went my resolution of
buying more condoms. Tim rested on his forearms, propped up, ass still in
the air. His skin gleamed with sweat. Such a beautiful mess. And boy, he
looked so innocent like that.
“A... plug?”
He nodded, blue eyes burning into mine. “A butt plug,” he confirmed
and shifted carefully, hips still tilted up as if he didn’t want my seed to leave
him. Jesus.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know? I guess it makes me feel... claimed?”
A rush of heat roiled through my gut, and for a moment I felt like my
skin would burn up the sheets beneath me. “Claimed?”
 Tim worried his bottom lip and rested the side of his face back on the
pillow.
“I guess I am into this whole breeding fantasy or whatever.” He said it
so nonchalantly, so confidently. How the hell could a man like him a) be in
my bed and b) be my flesh and blood? He had no shame. Whatever he
wanted, he asked for. I stared at him, lost for words. He continued, “I want
to serve you in a way, I guess. Like last night. A place for your cock to be
until you decide you wanna fuck me. And when you do, I want to be full of
semen, want to be bred and claimed and marked. As if this is my purpose?
Yeah... I wanna be Daddy’s good boy, going to work with his cum inside
me, like a stamp that says owned. Does that make sense?”
Still lost for words, I blew out a long breath. “How... on earth. I mean,
how the hell are you real?” I was overwhelmed, to say the least, by his
honesty, his boldness. “You wanna be mounted, like knocked up?” For a
moment, Timothee’s eyes widened, but then he breathed out a soft little yes.
A desperate one, sounding like a whimper.
I was still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm, but my cock was nice
and slick and slowly filling at what he’d described. I had to admit I wasn’t
nearly as kinky as my son.
I was, well, rough. Usually. I enjoyed choking my partners during sex,
liked to watch how their eyes rolled back and their bodies went lax.
Breathplay was my thing. I craved the control it gave me over them. But
with him... it was different.
I closed my fingers around my flaccid cock and stroked slowly. It made
me twitch and groan. But God help me, I wanted to do it. I wanted to kneel
behind him and thrust right back into his ass to give him another load of my
cum. So I sat up a little, against the bare wall since there wasn’t a
headboard, and grabbed my pillow to stuff it under his hips. Tim looked at
me questioningly while I kept pumping my dick back to hardness.
“Oh…” he whispered when he realized what I wanted to do.
“Don’t move, son,” I told him. “If you’re good, you’ll get another load
from Daddy, all right?” He nodded in response and breathed in deeply,
thighs opening wide.
This was unreal. Fucking unreal.
I scooted up behind him, and my cock had luckily taken interest again,
hardening between my fingers. The image of Tim spread out like this, with
his cum-filled hole on display, certainly helped. “Oh, baby,” I rasped, my
free hand sliding over the curve of his ass, then down his taint to his smooth
balls. I rolled them between my fingers while my biceps strained from
jerking my length, burning at the urgency I put into the action. My lips
parted when another gush of cum slid out of his hole. “Are you excited for
it, mh? For more of my jizz in your ass?”
Tim squealed, his toes curling and face buried away. His ass cheeks
clenched, and that was the answer I was hoping for. I slid a finger into his
wet hole and moaned at how easy it was. “Oh, you’re so fucking open.
Fuck... you want it, yeah?”
As I wiggled my finger against his prostate, Tim cried out, head thrown
back. His thighs went rigid, and he clasped fistfuls of sheets for purchase.
“Yeah, look at you, so desperate to be bred,” I muttered, the slick sound of
my hand on my dick filling the air between us. “With Daddy’s cum…”
Tim’s moans were something I’d never heard before. Something so...
honest and dirty in its context it gave me the last surge of urgency to get this
done. I slipped my finger out, set my fat cockhead at his entrance, and then
just thrust in. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed as my balls smacked against his ass,
and his body jerked forward on the mattress. I repeated the process hard and
fast, my hands pressed down on his lower back to keep him in place. “Plant
your seed, Daddy, please!” That was all it was. Not fucking. Just a way to
get my cum into his ass. I pounded harder until my thighs and glutes ached
and my lungs burned. Again and again, I jammed my dick into him to the
hilt, my hips slapping against his ass while my fingers dug deep into his
skin. “Oh God, oh Go—” he cried out in pained pleasure while I drilled into
him so hard he choked on his next breath. I snatched up his dark strands,
tugged, and made him curve his back.
“Such a good boy. Hell yeah, you ready, huh? You ready for my seed?”
With the tilt of his hips, Tim answered my question and unleashed a stream
of low, guttural growls from my throat.
My hips stuttered, and my vision blacked out. I could barely hear him
sob and whimper while I erupted inside him, jet after jet of hot cum,
claiming him. Marking him from the inside out. I fell forward but caught
myself before crushing him to the mattress. My ears rang, my heart raced,
and I groaned out loud, eyes pinched shut when Tim squeezed his fucking
ass and rolled his hips as if he was trying to milk me for more. “Ah, fuck!” I
hissed and pressed down on his tailbone to make him stop. There was not
one more drop left for him; it was all inside him now. My balls clenched
tightly against my shaft, now really fucking empty.
Once again, I withdrew and dropped beside him. Spent and high and
satisfied. Tim had barely moved from his spot on the bed, ass up thanks to
the pillow under his crotch.
He looked content. Blissed out, cheeks pink, long lashes fluttering as he
moaned, “Thank you, Daddy.”

—Timothee
“Dad! Dad! Dad! What are we going to do today?” I bounced out of the
bathroom, hair dripping and a towel wrapped around my waist.
After he’d fucked me again, we’d fallen asleep for a bit longer, and
when I’d woken up, Devon had showered and dressed. He was still sitting
at the kitchen table, cigarette between his fingers as he read through the
newspaper.
“I’m relaxing. You can do whatever,” Devon said, glancing up at me.
He flicked his ashes into the ashtray, flipping the pages. “I don’t have
anything to do, and I’m not going to do anything.”
“Ugh. That’s so fucking boring, though.” I shook my head, splattering
water droplets all around. “There’s got to be something we can do.
Something fun. I don’t want to just sit around the apartment.”
I made my way toward the kitchen counter and examined the last dregs
of the coffee Devon had left me. I grabbed a mug, spooned a hefty amount
of sugar into it, and then poured the rest of the black, bitter coffee. Devon
packed the coffee pot full of the grounds each morning so it was exactly the
color and taste of tar, but I needed a lot of sugar and milk to make it
somewhat tolerable. And I liked bitter coffee.
“What do you consider fun?” Devon asked dryly. “Other than begging
for my cock, obviously.”
Humming, I leaned against the counter and took a sip of my coffee.
“I’m kind of sore,” I mused. “I probably should take a break of begging for
your cock for the rest of the day.”
Devon smirked. “Your mouth is clearly still fine so…”
I rolled my eyes, setting my mug on the counter and heading over to the
fridge.
 I selected an apple for my late breakfast, shut the door with my hip, and
turned to him again. “You could teach me to shoot,” I said, cocking my
head to the side.
Devon choked on the smoke of his cigarette and blinked at me with
slightly widened eyes. “That came out of fucking nowhere,” he said.
“Eh.” My teeth crunched into the apple, and I chewed happily, juice
sliding down my wrist as I watched Devon. I swallowed and licked my lips,
then my arm. “It’s not out of nowhere. I’ve wanted to learn for a long time.”
“Uh-huh. To make it easier to rob the men you seduce?” Devon
chuckled, then turned his attention back to the paper.
Oh. I’d completely forgotten I’d ripped him off the first time we hooked
up. I smiled faintly at the memory. “I am my father’s son apparently,” I
said. He really couldn’t give me a lecture on morality, considering what
he’d admitted his job was. “But no. Not so I could hold up horny old men.”
Devon snorted. “Then why?”
Another bite of my apple and I chewed it, then spoke. “Like, everyone I
went to school with knows how to shoot.”
“I doubt that.”
“No! It’s true. They do. Hunting is like super big. Most of the guys, at
least the ones with dads, and a lot of the girls know how to shoot. I was one
of the few who had no idea how to do it. Mom didn’t exactly take me
hunting on the weekends or anything.”
“So what? You want to learn how to shoot so we can go into the fucking
woods and kill shit?” Devon didn’t sound too enthused by the idea. Which I
couldn’t particularly blame him for. It didn’t sound appealing to me either.
“God no.” I shook my head. “I have no desire to kill animals or
anything like that. Definitely no desire to camp out in the woods. Fucking
gross. Do I seem like the outdoorsy type?”
Devon turned in his chair and looked me over, standing there in my
towel with my coffee and apple. “No, not really,” he admitted. “Then why?”
“I dunno. I just think it would be fun. Something that would be good to
know,” I said. Truth be told, I just wanted him to teach me something. Like
he’d “taught” me how to play pool. He still looked skeptical, and I laughed.
I stepped to the table and took a seat in my usual chair. “You don’t have to
worry. I don’t want to get my own gun or anything like that. I’m not
planning on following in my dad’s footsteps and starting a life of crime. I
just want to know how to shoot. That’s it. That’s where it begins and where
it ends.”
“I don’t know…” Devon said cautiously.
“C’mon. It’ll be fun,” I cooed. “You just said you had nothing to do.
And I bet you need to practice anyway. Make sure you don’t get rusty.”
“This is another of those things you’re not going to let drop until I
agree, isn’t it?” Great, he’d figured it out for himself. There was no point in
trying to get out of it.
“Yep. You should probably just save your breath, to be honest.” Another
thing I got from him was an intense amount of stubbornness. He didn’t like
to back down typically, but he also knew how to choose his battles. I hadn’t
learned that yet.
“Okay, okay,” Devon said. “We can go shoot. I’ll teach you how to use
a gun, but if you ever say you want one... I’ll be pissed.”
“Yay! I just tricked you into father-son bonding time.” I grinned.
Devon laughed at that and shook his head. “Go get dressed, dumbass.”
He actually sounded quite fond of me.

It made sense that Devon wouldn't go to a shooting range. I doubted the gun
he had was even legal in the first place. Instead, he drove us to a field that
was surrounded by large, empty-looking warehouses. It was quiet, and the
only cars on the street were rusted and looked like they had been there for
years.
"Where are we?" I asked, craning my head around.
He snorted. "Some warehouses that Steven owns."
"Doesn't look like they're… busy," I said. "What does he use them for?"
Devon's gaze turned stormy. "You don't want to know." He pulled the
car up in front of a large, weed-filled field. At the far side, rusted metal
barrels and milk crates full of bottles were spaced out. The grass glittered
with broken glass. "Come on. Let's do this."
"Are there ticks?" I asked cautiously and got out of the car.
"Nah. Just a fuck ton of chemicals," he said and led the way into the
field.
"Oh. Okay. Reassuring."
—Devon
“Get those bottles up on the barrels,” I told Tim once we were both out
of the car. I looked around and quickly checked if there was anyone else
here, which I doubted. Better safe than sorry, though. Tim headed off
toward the bottles, and I pushed open a couple of doors with my gun at my
side. It took a few minutes to secure the place, but once I was back, Tim
had set up the bottles on the barrels and was grinning excitedly. I’d kept one
eye on him the entire time I had checked for trouble. I wouldn’t let anything
happen to my boy. My boy.
He’d set up ten bottles in a row facing the field and skipped over to me.
“Show me!”
“Stand behind me,” I said and took my place a couple of yards away
from the barrels. The heat flickered across the field, and pearls of sweat ran
down my nape. Still, it was the perfect place. Out here, no one would hear
us shoot.
“Listen.” I locked the gun. “One, always assume there is a bullet in the
chamber. Two, never aim a gun at someone or something you don’t intend
to shoot. That’s why I’m pointing it at the ground, all right? And three, even
if the safety is on, always assume it’s broken. Got it?” I looked at him
seriously, waiting for Tim to acknowledge that he’d listened and understood
what I’d said.
“Okay, yes, got it,” he finally replied. I asked him to recite what I’d
said, and he did so perfectly. With that done, I loaded the gun and aimed at
the first bottle on the right.

—Timothee
My eyes widened as Devon moved down the line, shattering all ten
bottles in what seemed like no time. The ringing in my ears was unpleasant,
but it was all overshadowed by my excitement. Devon put the safety on and
turned to me, holding the gun toward the ground. "That was so fucking
cool," I said. "You went so fast, and you didn't miss a single one. You're so
awesome."
A pleased grin spread over Devon's lips. "Go set up more bottles, and
I'll show you how to do it. Watch the broken glass."
I scurried off and set them up the same way I had before, then headed
back to Devon. "Okay," I said brightly.
 "You ready?"
I nodded. "Yes, Dad, I'm ready."
Devon handed me the gun. I took it carefully and pointed it at the
ground like he had. He moved behind me, his body pressing close as he
explained how to use it. His hands went to mine, adjusting my grip, and he
lifted my arms up gently, aiming them. "Okay. Just like that," he said softly.
"Now when you're ready, you squeeze the trigger.”
Bang!
The sharp sound echoed in my ears, and my whole body jerked back
against Devon. None of the bottles broke. I blinked up at Devon. "I
missed," I pouted.
"Try again."

We spent over two hours practicing. Devon stayed behind me, shifting my
body as needed and supporting me as I got used to the kickback. By the
time Devon said we were done, I could hit every bottle as long as I took my
time to line up the shot.
"I can't believe I did that," I said, wiping my hands on my jeans as
Devon holstered his gun. He was smiling.
"You did good," he agreed. "Are you hungry, kid?"
"Starving," I said brightly. "Wanna head home?"
"Nah. Let's just stop somewhere and eat. No point in going home yet."
"Okay." I tried to hide my grin. For someone who had been so reluctant
to spend the day with me, he sure wasn’t in a hurry to go home yet. It made
me feel nice. Fuzzy and warm. Like he actually liked me.

—Devon
“So…” Tim began with a grin plastered to his face. He rubbed his hands
together and slid into the booth at the burger place I’d chosen on our way
back.
“So?” I probed when I took my seat opposite him. The restaurant was
popular and full at this time of the day—dinner time. The waitresses buzzed
around from table to table, tapping orders into their little tablets. I scanned
the crowd, then turned my attention back to Tim.
 “Fiona said you’re hooking up with that guy, Brandon, on a regular
basis. Is that true?” I blinked once, twice, and then sat back. Goddamnit,
that woman.
“That’s none of her business,” I replied as Tim looked straight at me and
then wet his dry lips. “But yes, before you moved in, we were fuck
buddies.”
“Nothing more?” Tim pressed.
“No,” I ground out. Gossip traveled fast in our small community, so it
didn’t come as a surprise that Fiona had known about Brandon’s and my
situation. Tim was just about to ask something else when a stressed-looking
waitress appeared by our side and handed us the menus, then recited what
kind of specials were offered for the day.
I didn’t want him to ask questions like that. Or even know about it.
Tim picked one of the specials with a strawberry milkshake, and I
ordered the same, minus the milkshake. “When was the last time you dated
someone?” Tim asked once she left.
“I feel like I am being interrogated.”
Tim shrugged and leaned back against the red leather of the booth we
sat in. “Answer the question.”
“I dunno, five years? Six?”
“A man or a woman?”
“I am gay,” I snapped at him, which answered the question.
“Okay, okay, you could have been bi…” he lifted his hands in surrender.
“What gives you that impression?” I crossed my arms over my chest
and only chuckled when he simply pointed at himself.

—Timothee
"Have you never gotten wasted and made a mistake?" Devon asked me
rather seriously. He didn't seem mad about me pressing him for information,
and I was grateful. We'd had a nice day, and I absolutely didn't want to ruin
it, yet I wanted to use his good mood to get to know him better.
"I mean, yeah, but that involved like sucking off the football captain
under the bleachers after a game. Not sticking my dick in a girl without a
condom," I said, sneering at him. "I like to think I have some common
sense."
 Shaking his head, Devon laughed and unfolded his arms. "Then you're
doing better than I was at your age."
I decided not to point out that it clearly had nothing to do with my
upbringing. So I changed the subject again. "So, why don't you like Fiona?"
"Because she's nosy and won't keep her mouth shut." He scoffed. "I
don't know why you like her."
"Because she's cool!" I grinned.
"She is not," Devon said, a step away from turning his nose up. It was
funny.
"She is, though. She has all those tattoos!"
"I have tattoos."
"She has cats."
"Probably got fleas."
"Rides a motorcycle."
"I used to have one."
I paused in my adulation of Fiona and instead stared at him with wide
eyes. "Really?"
"Mhm." He nodded. "Long time ago."
"Why'd you trade it in for that hunk of rust outside?" I asked him. He
would look so hot riding a motorcycle. With all his tattoos and his dark,
good looks. Rawr.
Devon snorted and shrugged. "Money," he said simply, shifting as the
waitress brought our food. "That's what happens when you get older."
"You should get another one," I suggested, taking a bite of my sandwich
and chewing enthusiastically.
He scoffed again. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "Those days
are long gone."
"It would be so cool though." I sighed. "I could ride with you. To some
nice secluded place, and then I could ride you, and you could fill me with
your cum again." My voice got softer and softer as I spoke, while Devon's
eyes got wider and wider.
"Jesus," he breathed. "I'm seriously starting to think I need to put a
muzzle on you in public."
Grinning cheekily, I sucked at my shake and then licked my lips.
"Kinky. It could be fun."
Devon shook his head, pushing his food around on his plate. "I don't
know what I'm going to do with you."
 "I have some ideas," I said, a dirty smirk on my lips.
He snorted. "Of course you do. Eat."
I let him enjoy the silence for a few moments, devouring my dinner
happily. After a while, though, I looked up at him and wiped my hands off
on my napkin. "Dad?"
"Hm?"
"I had a lot of fun today."
"Me too."

—Devon
When I got back to the apartment, I checked my phone lying on the
kitchen table. I had seven missed messages. Some were from Brandon,
asking if he could come over. Some were from a couple of buddies who
wanted to know if I planned on hanging out at the pub tonight. I was about
to reply when Tim kicked off his shoes, peeled his jeans down his slim legs,
and climbed into bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled the covers up and hugged
my pillow. “It’s only six.”
“M’tired,” Tim mumbled, eyes closing.
I looked at him for a moment, taking in his peaceful, tired form, and
then turned my attention back to my phone. I replied to Brandon that I had
company, which was why we couldn’t engage in our usual fuck fest. I’d
answered the other ones too when Brandon sent me another message.
Brandon: You serious? Haven’t seen ya in two weeks, man
Me: Just busy atm
Brandon: The fuck? Come over to my place
Me: Can’t. Sorry
Brandon: I’m comin over
From experience, I knew Brandon didn’t make false promises. He
would come over. I knew he would. Especially if I told him not to show up.
I scrubbed one hand over my face and blew out a breath, sitting back in
my chair. Brandon would see Tim. He’d see him, and he’d mock me for
scoring some hot piece of ass. I had to take my chances that he wouldn’t
suspect anything because I couldn’t tell him Tim was my son. Brandon
talked. A lot. Which was how Fiona had even known about what we were
doing behind closed doors. So if he said something to the wrong person,
Tim would become an even greater target than he already was now. I wasn’t
exactly popular for being kind in this community. People left me alone
since they knew my record, knew what I was capable of. But Tim? He’d be
a snack on their way to hell.

—Timothee
The loud pounding on the door woke me up, and I grumbled and cursed
in the pillow. "Tell them to shut the fuck up."
"Tim…" Devon's voice came from above me, sounding urgent. "Look at
me."
I blinked up at him with a whine. "What? Is it the police?"
He snorted. "No. Look, it's that guy I told you about. My fuck buddy."
My expression must have darkened because his softened. "I'm gonna try to
get him to leave, but… he can't know you're my son."
"Oh… you're not going to fuck him?" I asked him suspiciously.
"No. Just don't call me dad. Don't tell him who you are," he said,
heading toward the door. The dude was still banging on it. No wonder,
Devon's dick was really good.
"Got it," I said, nuzzling into my pillow. "I'm just your fuckhole to
dump cum into."
Devon paused with his hand on the doorknob, eyes darkening. "Jesus…
your mouth," he mumbled. Shaking his head, he finally tugged the door
open.
He was instantly pushed out of the way by a slender blond. He looked
like the type of guy that would hang around Devon, eyebrow pierced and
tattoos covering his arms. He was dressed in all black, chains jingling on his
belt. "I can't believe you've left me hanging! For fucking weeks." He made
a beeline for the bed but stopped when he saw me. "Who is this?"
Devon was speechless, his tongue wetting his lower lip as he seemed to
struggle to find a proper answer to that. "That's, uh… Tim."
"I'm his fuckhole," I purred, peeking up at him as I hugged my pillow to
my chest.
The man sneered at that, eyeing me. His eyes stayed focused on my ass
for a moment, and then he chuckled. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
—Devon
“Nope,” Tim piped up before I could say anything. He shifted until he
was on his knees. He only wore his briefs and socks, no shirt, no pants.
Brandon looked him up and down and sneered.
“I had no idea you were into youngsters,” Brandon said with a raised
eyebrow, stepping closer to the bed. His hair was mussed up from his nap,
and he had red on his cheeks. “You sure you aren’t just babysitting him?
New job?” Brandon asked me, dismissing Tim. My son scoffed before I
could answer. He pushed up on his knees and placed his hands on his hips.
“Babysit me? If anyone is doing a job, it is me.” Then he made a very
obvious blow job motion with his hand and mouth. God, that boy.
I rolled my eyes and came up to Brandon. “You’re shitting me. You’re
what? Twice his age? He’s cute, but I thought you liked a grown man who
knew how to handle ya…” Brandon’s tone deepened, and his eyes darkened
as he zeroed in on me. It was almost as if he was jealous, which I knew he
wasn’t. He just wanted to get laid and was annoyed by the fact that we
weren’t alone. One more step had the chains on his belt jingle. Then we
were eye to eye in front of Tim on the bed. Brandon’s lustful gaze was hard
to ignore. If anything, I would have thought he’d go after Tim, but
apparently, I’d been wrong.

—Timothee
"Aw. That's cute," I piped up, looking between them. Normally I
wouldn't have minded slipping between the two of them and seeing what
happened. But Devon was mine, mine, mine. I wasn't going to let this dude
touch him.
"What's cute?" Brandon scoffed.
"Oh God," Devon groaned like he knew what was coming. Which he
probably did. He was getting used to the way I spoke to him after all.
"That you think I can't handle him." I brushed my hair out of my face
and scooted closer to the edge of the bed. I shifted into a seated position and
rested my feet on the floor, looking up at the two of them.
"You can barely handle a razor," Brandon shot back and pinched my
cheek like I was a baby. "Now the adults are talking, shush."
I hooked my finger in Devon's pants and tugged him closer until he
turned away from Brandon and faced me. "I can't handle him? So I can't
handle him being buried balls deep in me almost every night? Or him
pumping me full of his cum? Keeping his cock warm at night, pressed so
deeply into me…"
Devon looked like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to slap me or
fuck me. Brandon just looked shocked. Like he hadn't expected all those
dirty words to come out of my mouth. It was kind of funny, really. "Fuck,"
Brandon said, licking his lips.
Grinning, I leaned forward and nuzzled my cheek against the front of
Devon's pants. "I mean, I don't wanna be a cockblock and all… but I really
don't wanna share all that cum."
“Uh… he’s kind of a handful,” Devon said weakly. His fingers
tightened in my hair like he wanted to pull me off, but he didn’t. He didn’t
move as I turned my head and mouthed at the outline of his cock, wetting
his jeans with my tongue. It was like Devon had just given up on dealing
with me. Letting me do whatever I wanted.
“Uh… huh.” Brendan’s eyebrows were sky-high as he looked between
the two of us, and I offered him a dirty smirk.
I was claiming my territory, letting Brandon know where he stood now.
Devon was mine, and he wasn’t going to have him anymore. Wasn’t going
to be able to touch him, get fucked by him. I was my father’s son; I was just
as possessive of him as he was of me. “Da-Dev, why don’t we show your
friend how good I can take your cock?” I breathed, dragging my fingers
down his thighs. “I wanna show him.”

—Devon
Tim tripped over his words, eyes wide and gazing up at me as he slid his
hand up and down my thigh. Christ, that had been a close call. I stroked his
hair and watched him for a moment. Brandon cleared his throat. “Yeah,
show me,” he said and took a step back. “Don’t mind me. Just do your
thing…” The kitchen chair creaked at Brandon’s weight, and he unbuckled
his jeans.
This was really going to happen.
I was about to fuck my son in front of Brandon. But what if he found
out? What if one day, he’d know the truth. What if—
“Hey,” I snapped sharply and turned my attention back to Tim, who’d
undone my pants and freed my half-hard dick. Soon enough, his warm and
wet mouth surrounded the tip of my cock, and he batted his eyelashes at
me. Tim shifted, setting his hands on my thighs, tongue dipping past the
foreskin. “Good God,” I grunted and closed my eyes at the sensation of my
cock swelling in his mouth. Tim slid me all the way in, easily taking my
half-hard length. There he stayed and sucked, bobbing his head just slightly.
I took hold of his hair, supporting the motion while Tim clawed at my
thighs and moaned. It didn’t take long to grow fully hard, and once he
began to struggle, I held him down, nose pressed against my lower stomach.
“Oh, you like that, baby?” I growled. Tim’s eyelashes fluttered as he
peered up at me, gagging while I kept him pressed against me. His tongue
pushed against the underside of my shaft, and his throat contracted at the
way the tip of my cock teased alongside it. I rocked my hips and groaned as
his throat tightened, my fingers twisting in his hair. Tim gagged again and
this time pushed against my hips to force me back and out of his mouth. But
I didn’t budge. His saliva dripped to the floor, and tears spilled from his
eyes as he blinked hard.
“Shhhh, I know, baby. I know…” I whispered soothingly. “Stay still,” I
told him softly. Tim balled up his hands against my thighs, his eyes
squeezed shut tightly. The only way he could breathe was through his nose.
“Fuck, look at him, taking it like a good boy,” Brandon said huskily, the
slicking sound of his hand on his cock accompanying Tim’s gagging noises.
I’d done a lot of dirty things in my life, but this, right here, was a new level
entirely. “You think he can take your balls too?”
I glanced down at Tim. His eyes were glossy; his cheeks wet and red.
“Let’s see…”

—Timothee
“Wider. Wider. There you go.” Devon murmured to me, his hand on my
wet chin as he tried to pull my mouth wider. It didn’t quite work, even as he
forced himself even farther in. Despite being very good at deepthroating his
cock, I couldn’t swallow him the way I wanted to. I wished I could; I was
going to have to find another way to do what he wanted. Another way to
make him happy.
I gagged hard around him, clawing at his hips as he guided me off his
cock so I could take a gasping breath. I wasted no time, though, eager to get
back to my task. Even he seemed surprised when I gulped for air and then
moved back down almost instantly, barely missing a beat. My tongue came
out, lapping over his shaft as I buried my nose back against his stomach. I
spread my mouth as wide as I could get it, tongue licking his balls.
Lavishing attention over them, getting them nice and wet. It hurt, but in the
best way possible.
Devon growled and twisted at my hair, arching. “Fuck, yes. Like that,”
he breathed. He rocked his hips forward, fucking his cock into my throat. I
was drooling heavily, leaving spit all over him as he got as deep as humanly
possible into my mouth.
When he pulled back, his cock was literally dripping with spit, and it
smeared across my lips as his cock bobbed in front of me. “I want you
inside me, please?” I breathed, flicking my tongue out to keep contact.
“Want to show him how deep you get inside me. How you fill me up.
Stretch me out so good. I bet he wants to see it too, huh?”
I darted my eyes over to Brandon, who was watching us intently. His
hand was in his pants, the material bobbing with his stroking. “Yeah,” he
replied, his voice a husky growl. “C’mon, Dev, shove your fat cock in the
little brat and make him shut up.”

—Devon
Tim looked like a starving little thing. Saliva dripping from his chin,
dried tears on his cheeks. Feverish. Desperate. “I want it,” he whined and
fixed his gaze back on my hard-on swaying slightly in front of him. “You’re
such a dirty boy,” I said. When he looked up at me again, turning his
attention away from my cock, something flashed in his eyes. “You want
Daddy’s dick?” Tim’s lips parted at that, and a long whimper escaped.
Yeah, he did. I grinned and cupped his chin. “Tell me.”
“I do. Fuck, I do want your dick, Daddy.” Him calling me that was safe,
and I knew Brandon would dig hearing it too.
“Good,” I hummed and dipped my thumb past his lips while I pumped
my cock slowly. “Then get cleaned up and stretch your little hole so I won’t
tear you apart, yeah?” Tim tried to nod, but I didn’t let him. He sucked on
my thumb instead, eyelashes fluttering.
“Yes, Daddy.”
It took Tim about ten minutes until he emerged from the bathroom. I’d
stripped and stretched out on the bed, slowly stroking my length while my
former fuck buddy fed me ideas of what to do with my son once he came
back. Tim was naked and a little starry-eyed, his attention immediately
fixed on my hand and how I worked on my erection.
I lifted my other hand and curled my fingers to beckon him closer. He
obliged without a word and stepped forward to the bed. Brandon groaned
from his seat at the kitchen table. The show had started. “Baby,” I said.
“Show him that hole.”

—Timothee
My eyes darted toward Brandon sitting at the table. His cock was in his
hand, popped through the gap in his open jeans. It wasn’t a bad cock, not
nearly as nice as Devon’s, but good. And he was hard. Precum beaded at the
tip, and it was because of me and Devon. Because of the filthy things I had
been up to. “Yes, Daddy.” I turned my attention back to Devon.
I flashed him a smirk, then climbed onto the bed. I rested on my knees,
straddling Devon’s stretched-out legs. Dropping down, I rested my head
against his thigh and closed my eyes. I pressed my chest to the bed, reached
behind me, and grasped at my cheeks. I spread myself open for Brandon,
curling my toes as I shifted my knees wider and pressed down even more.
“Such a good boy,” Devon murmured as he stroked my hair. A faint
squeak sounded, like the legs of the chair scratching across the floor, and
Devon chuckled. “Doesn’t he have a pretty little hole, hm?”
Devon leaned forward and, with his hand on the back of my head,
forced me down. He slid his fingers over my tailbone and then lower,
brushing the tips over my entrance. I clenched up, whimpering softly.
“Jesus.” Brandon sighed. “Is he tight?”
“Mhm.” Devon prodded at my entrance, working one of his fingers just
barely in. “So fucking tight.”
I wiggled my hips, and Devon pulled his finger out. “Come here.” He
leaned back against the pillows and finally let me straighten up. “I want you
to get my cock nice and wet again. Keep that ass up in the air.”
“Daddy,” I murmured, eagerly crawling the rest of the way up his legs
until I reached his cock. It rested heavily against his stomach, angling
toward his right hip. I felt Brandon’s eyes burning into me as I rested my
elbows on the bed and ran my tongue over the underside of his cock.
“He can’t get enough of it,” Brandon commented. His voice was low,
and I was surprised he wasn’t trying to join in. Had Devon threatened him
when I was in the bathroom?
That would have been hot.
“That’s because Daddy has the best cock,” I breathed.

—Devon
I fucked Tim until all he could do was whimper and gasp, fingers
tangled in the sheets. I mounted him with my knees next to his thighs,
drawing mewls and sobs from his throat. They grew louder and louder and
then pitched so high I stopped and kissed his shoulder, feeding him
soothing whispers until I rocked my cock back into him. I hooked my arms
under his shoulders, chest pressed against his back.
The lewd noise of our bodies coming together mixed with the sounds of
Brandon beating his dick, groaning and panting shamelessly beside us. I
barely heard him over Tim’s cries. Brandon came on a loud roar, spurting
all over his fist, his deep voice filling the thick air between us. Tim wiggled
his ass when I stilled my thrusts, sweat sealing his back to my front.
“Daddy,” he whimpered, clenching his cheeks to tighten his ass around me,
urging me to continue the brutal fucking I’d been giving him.

“Jesus, Dev,” Brandon said as he cleaned himself up with a wet paper

towel, wiping away the remains of his spunk on his shirt. Tim had come just
before I had, jizzing all over the sheets. “You sure I can’t take him for a test
drive?” Brandon shot me a dirty grin, knowing my answer.
“No, I’m not sharing him,” I replied and kept sliding my fingers through
Tim’s sweat-slick hair. With his cheek resting against my chest, I felt him
inhale and exhale against me, soft and warm.
“Shame,” Brandon said, watching me intently. “But not surprising…
you’re pretty smitten with him.” I chuckled at that and brushed my fingers
across Tim’s shoulders, drawing little circles there.
“He’s something else.”
 After a beat of silence, Brandon sighed. “I’m gonna leave ya to it.” He
tossed the wet paper towel into the trash and gave me one last look. “You’re
gonna make a fine Daddy.” At that, he winked and headed out. I stared at
the closed door and listened to Tim breathe. When Tim shivered and I
pulled the sheets over his waist, I knew Brandon was right. I’d really make
a fine Daddy because I cared for him. For Tim. My son.
And there was nothing I could do about it.

The Motherfuckin’ End

 Are you curious…

…about what happened when Devon came home drunk in the middle of the
night?

Find out by downloading the free bonus scene here!

 MORE FILTHY READS

If you’re interested in more kinky & taboo reads, get access to our secret dungeon by signing up for
our newsletter.
#kittyplay
#dubcon
#taboorelationships
#suspense
#voyeurism
& more
 ALSO BY UIN PERIN

Daddy Kink, Kitty Play, Second Chance, Hurt/Comfort, Friends2lovers, Enemies2lovers, Gay
Erotica, Dub-con, Voyeurism, Crossdressing, Taboo reads & more…you name it, we have it.

Find your next read here!

 LET’S TAL ABOUT OUR BOYS!

Quin & I love-love-love to talk about our boys which is why we hang out in
our facebook group a lot. If you’d like to join the conversation & leave your
thoughts about your favorite Quin&Perin character, get in there! We look
forward to hearing from you!

> Enter our Inner Circle <

 ABOUT UIN PERIN ONNE T

As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering
time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels. Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a
dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that
will leave you full and satisfied.

Get access to free stories: Enter our Newsletter

Get to know us: Join our facebook group