Daddy's Boy

by T C Heffer

  "Well it is. I don't think I'll ever get enough."

  For the next few minutes, Jeremy gives Pete the rimming of a lifetime. He laps at Pete's hole and wiggles the tip of his tongue against it, demanding entrance. He seals his lips around it and sucks, eliciting a litany of sexy sounds from his boy. When he finally manages to get the tip of his tongue inside, aided by his own saliva, Pete's upper body falls down, his arms giving out so that his face ends up smushed into the bedding. He disobeyed, but Jeremy can't find it in himself to be mad. He knows how good it feels to be rimmed, and honestly, Pete lasted longer than Jeremy thought he would.

  "Daddy, please…" Pete begs, hands fisted in the sheets.

  "You want Daddy's fingers?" Jeremy asks.

  "Yeah…"

  "I want to hear you say it, baby boy. Tell me exactly what you want or you won't get it."

  Pete groans. Jeremy thinks he hears the boy say something about daddies being mean and unfair, and then Pete tells him. "I want your fingers, Daddy. Want you to open me up for your big cock."

  "Yeah?" Jeremy gets up on his knees, slots his aching erection into the crack of Pete's ass and thrusts lazily a few times. "You want this again?"

  Pete nods and makes a sound that's almost like a sob. He must be even more worked up than Jeremy thought he was.

  "Say it, baby," Jeremy pushes.

  "I want…"

  "C'mon, sweetheart, you can do it. I know you can."

  Pete takes a shuddering breath and sniffles. "I want your cock."

  "Where, baby?" Jeremy moves backward and puts his erection between Pete's thighs. "Here?"

  "Nuh-uh, Daddy. Want it in…in…" Another sniffle. "In my ass."

  Jeremy hums thoughtfully and keeps up the act for another few seconds before deciding that he's pushed his boy enough for one night. Pete has mostly been very good, so Jeremy doesn't have it in him to tease him any further. He doesn't have it in him to do that to himself, either. He's so aroused that he genuinely worries he'll blow his load too early if he doesn't get his cock inside of Pete's pretty little hole within the next couple minutes.

  And at his age, wouldn't that be embarrassing?

  "Alright, baby, I'll give you what you want," he says, picking up the lube.

  For the next few minutes, Jeremy works his fingers into his boy's hole, relishing how it clamps tight around the digits.

  "You ready, baby boy?" he asks after fitting a third finger inside. He slides them all out, tears open the condom wrapper and rolls it down his cock.

  "Yeah, Daddy. Need you so bad!" Pete answers, face hidden in the mattress now, his back a sinuous arch.

  "Turn over. Daddy wants to see your face while he makes love to you."

  Pete is uncoordinated as he tries obey. To prevent himself from getting kicked in the face, Jeremy helps him and then insinuates himself between Pete's thighs when his boy is on his back. Pete's face is sweaty and his eyes are slightly red from tears. Jeremy kisses the salty moisture away and then curls Pete's legs around his waist. Once he's sure that Pete can keep them there under his own steam, he holds himself up by planting one hand on the bed next to Pete's head and reaches between them with his other hand to aim his cock at his boy's greedy hole.

  "Breathe," Jeremy tells him as he begins to push inside.

  It takes a while. It's still only the second time Pete has been fucked, and even with Jeremy's careful prep, his body isn't used to it yet. When Jeremy is fully sheathed, his full balls resting over the top of Pete's ass cheeks, Pete's face is splotchy and fresh tears have appeared in his eyes. They don't spill over, but they're still there. Jeremy lowers himself so that he blankets his boy with his body and kisses him tenderly, distracting him until the pain is gone.

  "You can move now, Daddy," Pete says eventually, breathless. He squeezes his ass around Jeremy's cock, spurring him on.

  Jeremy withdraws just as slowly as he pushed inside and keeps a glacial pace with the next thrust. In spite of how worked up they both were, he wants to take his time and really enjoy it.

  "So big!" Pete gasps when Jeremy buries himself balls-deep again.

  "All for you, baby boy," Jeremy promises. "Always all for you."

  "Daddy…"

  Gradually, Jeremy picks up the speed of his thrusts until he has something moderate going. It's enough to make Pete scream but not enough for either of them to be in any danger of coming yet.

  "There!" the boy cries, throwing his head back after a particularly well-aimed thrust.

  Jeremy obliges and keeps his hips angled just so, providing his boy with as much pleasure as possible. He can't resist taking the invitation Pete is giving him by presenting his neck like this. He lowers his mouth to the vulnerable column of flesh and bites and sucks on it, doing everything he can to leave his mark on his boy. He probably shouldn't. Leaving love bites on such a visible part of Pete's body will only invite unwanted questions—especially if Pete's Dad sees them—but Jeremy is so caught up in the passion of the moment that he isn't thinking clearly.

  All he knows is the clutch of Pete's hole around his cock, the boy taking him so well that it's like Pete was made just for him. The thought only exacerbates his possessive thoughts, leading him to worsen the hickey on Pete's neck until there's no way anyone could miss it. When Jeremy stops and raises himself up on both arms to admire his handiwork, his hips still moving, he doesn't think that even a bunch of makeup could cover it entirely.

  Perfect.

  "Daddy, I'm getting close," Pete warns him, digging his short nails into Jeremy's back.

  Desiring to watch his boy's face when he climaxes, Jeremy takes Pete's cock in hand and jerks him off in time with his thrusts. "Cum anytime you're ready, baby," he grunts, fucking him hard now.

  Just ten seconds later, Pete goes off like a rocket, his cum painting both of their torsos. It's like Pete is marking him back, and that realisation is all it takes for Jeremy to achieve orgasm as well. He continues to fuck his boy as he fills the condom, and then, when the pleasure ceases, he collapses on top of his boy, too worn out to be concerned about crushing him.

  Pete doesn't seem to mind, though, just holds him as they both come back to themselves.

  Once Jeremy has enough wherewithal, he gently eases out of Pete's tender hole, holding the base of the condom in place with his index finger and thumb. He ties it off, tosses it in the direction of the bin and flops over next to his boy on his back, arms thrown carelessly above his head. Pete immediately cuddles into his side, nuzzling his chest.

  "That was amazing, Daddy," he mumbles, tuckered out after an evening full of excitement.

  "It was," Jeremy concurs. "You sleepy now?"

  "Uh-huh…"

  Jeremy should probably force them both out of bed, change the sheets and then get Pete into the shower to wash all traces of their lovemaking from their bodies, but he can't be bothered. Plus, he kind of likes still having his boy's cum on him, even if he knows from experience that it'll be all crusty and gross in the morning. With that in mind, he moves himself and Pete just enough to ease the bedsheets out from underneath them, and then he covers them and kisses the top of Pete's head after the boy has rested it on his chest again, his eyes closed.

  "Sleep well, baby boy."

  * * *

  - Sunday, December 1st, 2013 -

  The following morning, Jeremy drops Pete off at his house. He steals a kiss before Pete gets out of the Porsche and walks up the path to the front door. He doesn't miss that his Dad's cruiser is in the driveway, meaning that he didn't manage to beat the man home this time. He hopes his Dad didn't notice that he was gone and just assumed that he was still up in bed sleeping. If not, then Pete has the excuse of spending the night at Steve's house all ready to go.

  Entering the building, Pete cautiously looks around for a sign of the Chief and doesn't find any right away. But then he hears the clinking of ice against glass coming from the living room.

  "Pete? Is that you?" the Chief calls. His voice sounds strang
e.

  "Yeah, Dad," Pete calls back.

  "Come in here, please."

  Feeling apprehensive now, Pete fights the instinct to go right back out the door and run all the way back to Jeremy's house. He can't guess what's happening, but a voice in his head tells him that it can't be anything good. The voice is proven right when he walks into the living room and finds his Dad sitting in his recliner, still in his uniform with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His Dad rarely drinks, so he must be stressing about something big.

  "Take a seat, son," Adam commands, gesturing with his free hand to the sofa.

  "I was actually just gonna go do my homework—"

  "That can wait. Take a seat, please."

  Not knowing what else to do, Pete sits down with his spine ramrod straight and waits for the bomb to drop.

  "We need to talk," his Dad says, taking a sip of his whiskey.

  "About what?"

  The Chief looks Pete dead in the eye. "About what you were doing going out on a date with Jeremy King."

  Pete's heart stops in his chest.

  Bomb dropped.

  — CHAPTER TEN —

  - Sunday, December 1st, 2013 -

  Pete can't do anything but breathe as his Dad keeps staring unnervingly at him, expecting an answer. He can't figure out how to give him one. He doesn't even know what answer he'd give if he could get his mouth to work again.

  What can he possibly say in a situation like this to smooth everything over? His Dad is obviously upset with him—hence the whiskey—and Pete doesn't want to make it any worse. But he doesn't want to lie either, and he really doesn't want to stop seeing Jeremy. He's caught between a rock and a hard place, and all he wants is for Jeremy to be here to take care of everything for him. Jeremy—Daddy—would know what to do, what to say, to get rid of what is at best his Dad's disappointment and at worst his real anger.

  That might just be Pete's biggest fear. He loves spending time with Jeremy, but he's terrified. What if them getting closer until they're properly committed to each other—like Pete believed they would before he entered his home—will in turn drive him and his Dad apart? Why can't he have both?

  Why does everything have to fall apart just when things were getting so fucking good?

  "Pete, I'm waiting," his Dad says, his voice harder than before. He clearly doesn't like being ignored.

  "Uhh…" Pete swallows with difficulty, like he's got a lump in his throat.

  "What are you and Jeremy up to?" his Dad asks, rephrasing the question. He takes another sip from his tumbler.

  "I don't…I don't know what you want me to say," Pete whispers, looking down at his lap. He's acting like he's ashamed. He's not. He could never be ashamed of Jeremy, but right now, his Dad is making him feel like he should be. He doesn't like it.

  The Chief leans forward and slams his tumbler down on the coffee table, the remaining liquid inside sloshing over the rim. "I want you to explain to me what the hell you were thinking."

  Fuck, Pete is really going to have to try and sort this out all on his own, isn't he? He takes a breath to calm his racing heart and sits up straight, projecting confidence he doesn't really feel. "Why does it matter? I'm eighteen."

  "It matters because I'm still your Dad and I say it does," the Chief fires back. "Now answer the damn question."

  "How did you even find out?"

  "Mrs. Wilkinson saw you leaving last night and called me," his Dad apprises. "Since you didn't come home again until a minute ago—and since you have a hickey the size of Jupiter on the side of your neck—I assume you spent the night at Jeremy's house."

  "Oh…" Pete averts his gaze and covers the hickey with his hand. Well then. There's no possible way he can skirt around the truth now. Not believably, anyway. "Jeremy and I are dating," he says honestly.

  "You're dating," his Dad repeats flatly.

  Pete nods slowly and risks a glance at his Dad's face. He regrets it when he sees disgust. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he whispers, shrinking back on the sofa, all of his fake confidence gone now. "Is it…is it because Jeremy's another guy?"

  His Dad scoffs. "Please. You liking other boys wouldn't be a problem at all," he denies. "It's everything else!"

  "The age difference, then," Pete guesses.

  "Yes! He's over twice your age, Pete! And it's the other thing too."

  Pete thinks he knows what his Dad's referring to now, but he has to ask just in case. "What other thing?"

  The Chief's lips curl into a grimace. "I know about Jeremy's…game."

  Pete just frowns, waiting for further elaboration.

  "I used his computer once and found some of his bookmarks. It was an accident, but I know what he likes—the whole Daddy thing," the man says, spitting out the word 'Daddy' like it offended him.

  "Way to kink-shame, Dad," Pete murmurs, slightly hurt.

  The Chief shakes his head. "I didn't have a problem with it before, not really. Whatever he wanted to do in the privacy of his own home was none of my business. As long as everything was legal and consensual, I didn't need to think about it. But to know that he's sucked you into it…it changes things."

  "Why? I'm legal. I'm consenting—enthusiastically, if you really wanna go there."

  "But why?" his Dad asks. His anger fades for the first time and is replaced by a desperate need to understand. "Why do you feel like you need those things from him? Did I do something wrong? Was I not around enough?"

  "You did nothing wrong, Dad," Pete is quick to refute. "It's not about you."

  "But I know what you call him."

  More blood rushes to Pete's face then, so much that he feels a little dizzy and he's sure that he must look like a tomato. It's awkward talking about this with his Dad, reminding him of the time his Dad had given him The Talk when he was a kid.

  "Like I said, it's not about you," he tries to explain. "When I'm with him, apart from worrying about how I was gonna tell you about us, I'm not thinking about you at all. It's just me and Jeremy."

  "I still don't get it, and I don't like it," the Chief says, rubbing a hand over the stubble along his jaw. "Why couldn't you just date a boy your own age?"

  "Dad…"

  "I don't know what to think anymore."

  Pete is saddened but not surprised. As much as he'd hoped for a best case scenario, he'd been expecting his Dad to react like this. It's almost like his Dad is rejecting a part of him that he's only just discovered and had been beginning to explore with Jeremy's help. To know that the person he loves most in the world thinks that something that makes him happy is wrong…it hurts a great deal.

  "I could date a boy my own age, but I don't want to," Pete asserts, getting to his feet with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He's covering up his hurt with a bit of anger of his own. It's a much easier emotion to handle. "I want Jeremy, and he wants me too. I'm not gonna apologise or stop seeing him just because you don't like it."

  The Chief doesn't respond, just keeps sitting in his armchair with his hand over his mouth and tired eyes.

  "It's nice to know what you think of me, though," Pete says, right before he storms out of the room.

  He's running purely on adrenaline right now, and he can tell that it won't last much longer. He can't stay here while things are this fraught between him and his Dad. He just can't. He goes upstairs, grabs the duffel bag he uses whenever he sleeps over at Steve's house from beneath his bed and stuffs it full of as many clothes as it can hold. Once that's done, Pete squeezes in a few toiletries from the bathroom, zips it up and slings the strap over his right shoulder. Finally, he grabs his phone, his laptop, their respective power cords and his school backpack and is ready to go.

  He just hopes that Jeremy won't take issue with him showing up on his doorstep like a lost puppy.

  Going back downstairs, Pete stops briefly in the foyer to grab his keys and then walks out the door without looking back. His Dad doesn't call out to stop him.

  * * *

 
Five minutes later, Pete pulls to a stop outside of Jeremy's house and is glad to see that Jeremy's Porsche is in the driveway. He's so close to losing his shit, the various emotions he'd felt during his confrontation with his Dad simmering just beneath the surface, so he quickly gets out of his Kia and walks up the front path, not even bothering to collect his stuff from the passenger seat. He needs to feel Jeremy's arms around him right this second or he's going to have a breakdown right there on the sidewalk, in plain view of all of Jeremy's neighbours.

  After he's reached the front door, he knocks on it hard enough to hurt his knuckles and waits impatiently for Jeremy to answer. The door opens after the longest minute of Pete's life.

  Jeremy looks at him bemusedly. "Pete? What are you doing back here so soon?" he asks. His stunning green eyes fill with worry when he notices the inner turmoil that Pete is doing an increasingly poor job of hiding. "Baby, what's wrong?"

  And that's it.

  His Daddy displaying such concern and care, showing that he actually gives a shit about what Pete needs and wants, is all it takes for the teenager to burst into tears.

  "Okay, come here," Jeremy coaxes, grabbing Pete's hand and pulling him into the house.

  Once the door is shut and they're in complete privacy, Jeremy wraps his arms around Pete's shaking body and holds him tight as he cries, muttering soothing words in his ear. For Pete, it's everything he needed. The tears keep falling because he needs to get it all out, but he already feels better to be back with his Daddy. He buries his nose in Daddy's neck and takes comfort in the musk of his scent and the warmth of his body pressed against his from head to toe. He holds him back just as tightly, fingers gripping the back of Jeremy's red henley so hard that he must be stretching and winkling the fabric quite a bit.

  When Pete eventually calms down, he leaves the safety of Daddy's neck and wrinkles his nose when he sees the state in which he left his shirt. The collar is soaked with snot and tears. Great. What a good impression to make.

  "Sorry…" Pete says quietly, sniffling.

  "It's okay, baby. It's just a shirt, and I have a washer for a reason," Jeremy says, his muscular arms still around the boy's body. "Can you tell me what's wrong now?"