Alexa Tomas

Subject: Lessons in Fatherhood – Ch. 5 Lessons in Fatherhood by RJ Meyers This fictional story is about the love between two fathers and their respective sons. If themes of incest and adult/youth pairings offend you, do not read. If you have any questions or comments about this piece, want to know about any of my other works, or just want to reach out, please don’t hesitate to email me. If you would like to be added to a mailing list for this story (or all stories) and receive emails about any updates, let me know. A list of my works, including links and descriptions, can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI Please also consider donating to Nifty if you fty/donate.html. Any amount helps. ~ Chapter 5 (Ricky’s POV) ~ I’ve barely been able to focus on work this week. Not even my crosswords can help me calm down from the stress mishaps bring. Every time orders are missing, or there’s yet another chemical spill, I anticipate texting Ethan because I know he’d at least get a kick out of my misery. But I can’t. It’s over between us. I broke things off with Ethan at the beginning of the week, and in some ways, I feel relieved — or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that I made the right decision. The truth is, though, it still hurts to not be a part of a unit I’ve been so used to. Six years, and this is what we got out of it? By the time Friday rolls around, I’m just happy that the work week is over. A few coworkers ask if I want to take advantage of happy hour, but I turn them down. I just want to go home, melt my brain with some silly television, and fall the fuck asleep. I don’t even care about dinner at this point. I just need to reset. So, with the radio up practically on full-blast blaring classic rock hits, I mindlessly take myself home. As soon as I walk in through the front door, I see Kyle poke his head out from behind the couch. “You’re home!” he says excitedly, and, as if his excitement is contagious, Lucky sprints from the living room to meet me at the door. I smile for what feels like the first time all day, squatting down to take Lucky’s face between my hands and scratch behind his ears. “Hey boys,” I say gently, laughing as I avoid the dog’s attempts to lick my face. Kyle joins us by the door, and only when I look up do I see he’s carrying something: a container of cash. I recognize it as the tin he and Niall wanted to use to collect money from their lemonade stand. I believe they set something up today after school — and it seems it was a pretty successful endeavor, considering how full it looks. “Good haul, I see!” I say, nodding towards his newfound riches. He smiles. “Yeah, pretty good. We made over sixty dollars.” “Damn, that’s impressive,” I tell him, grunting when Lucky practically pounces on my chest. “What are you gonna do with all that dough?” “Well…” He bites his plump bottom lip a bit, swaying on his feet before holding out the tin to me. “It’s for you.” I pause as I look at him curiously. “Me?” “Yeah,” he says, “so we can go on a date.” I stare at him, momentarily frozen. Even Lucky isn’t fazing me. “A… date?” I ask, wondering if I heard him correctly. I actually tilt my ear towards him. He just nods. “I’m confused,” I admit. He looks worried — probably because I’m not catching on to his intentions. “I wanted to do something special to cheer you up,” he murmurs. Kyle is a strangely perceptive kid. Even though I did my best to ensure that the breakup wasn’t affecting my son’s image of me, clearly I slipped up. Ever since I told him Ethan and I are no more, he’s asked me daily how I’m holding up, true concern in his voice. Maybe his intuition is just very strong. “So… this is why you did the lemonade stand?” I ask. “Mhm,” he says with a little nod. Kyle set up a whole lemonade stand with his friend… for me? “Buddy…” I could cry right now, tenderhearted as I am. “You didn’t have to do that.” “But I wanted to,” he says, looking concerned still. Now that my eyes are watering, I can understand why he’s expressing that emotion. “Did I do something wrong?” “No, son,” I say, laughing and sniffling. Pushing Lucky aside, I pull Kyle in for a deep hug, needing to make my affection for him apparent. He embraces me with just one arm since his other is occupied by the tin of cash, but the gesture is all I need. “You’re the sweetest little guy,” I murmur. “And I love you.” He puts his face in my neck, hugging me tighter and giving me a warm scattering of chills on top of the relief of saying “I love you” out loud. Finally, it’s in the open. Finally, he knows if he didn’t before. And the words came out of me so easily. “I love you too,” he chirps against my skin, and goddamn, if I haven’t felt this blessed in a long fucking time. I wrap my arms around his frame even more tightly, squeezing my eyes shut to try to prohibit tears from escaping. My beautiful boy, so soft-spoken and kind-hearted. I’ve missed out on so many years with him, so much time to bear witness to his special tenderness, but I need to center myself, realign my priorities. The quicker I get over this Ethan bullshit, the better. I have a son who needs me, who loves me. “Only thing is,” he adds, “I can’t drive, so you have to do that.” I burst out laughing, rubbing his back before pulling away. Suddenly, I find myself fussing with his shirt and his hair — though I think it’s just an excuse for my hands to do something. “Where we goin’, chief?” “We could go to Oriental Buffet,” he suggests, his love for Chinese food showing. “Or the Cheesecake Factory. They have the nice desserts.” I chuckle softly. “A nice slice of cheesecake sounds mighty fine,” I murmur before nodding decisively. “Wanna go there, then?” “You get to decide,” Kyle says, smiling bashfully and poking me in the chest. “Cheesecake it is,” I say, and I lean in to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. The date is nothing short of fantastic. We split the fried mac ‘n cheese appetizer before diving into our entrees: a hibachi steak for me and a chicken salad sandwich for Kyle, sipping on our waters and enjoying a steady stream of conversation. We hit all sorts of topics, such as how school and work are both going for us, a couple new friends he’s making, the weirdness of the weather lately, the McCarthys, how different things are up North than they are down South… The way we’re talking makes things feel like a true date — say, the third or fourth one, where we know each other enough to express familiarity, but there’s still so much to learn. I never realized that Kyle’s a pretty smart kid, a sponge when it comes to taking in new information. If he learns something about me, he never forgets it, even something as small as what deodorant I gravitate towards or the way I smooth out any cash I pull out from my wallet. Like I thought: he pays attention. Talking to Kyle in the context of a “date” does make me realize something: he’ll be a heartbreaker. Not one of the douchey, side-capped, overly cocky dudes that leave a trail of broken hearts in their wake. He’ll be the silent killer, the one who melts hearts without that even being his intention. It blows my mind that I’ll be here to witness that transformation every step of the way. I take quite a few moments throughout dinner just to admire him. His mannerisms, his etiquette, his politeness whenever the waitress stops by to ask if we need anything… He’s a fully realized boy, and it’s a little strange to think that I played no part in shaping him to be what he is so naturally gifted at: being good. It’s not lost on me that it’s probably a result of growing up in a home without much love and attention, maybe even fear of stepping out of line, but he’s here now, doing well, making me proud, and that’s what counts. After dinner, we decide to split a slice of the “Oreo Dream Extreme” cheesecake. I find it a little too sugary for my taste buds, but Kyle’s all about it, wolfing it down. I end up giving him the bulk of the slice, smiling tenderly. “Hey,” I say as he’s in the middle of chewing a particularly large bite. He looks up at me with his bug eyes, lips pursed around the fork. “Hm?” “Thanks for taking me out tonight. I really appreciate it.” He smiles before chewing and swallowing. “Are you sad?” he asks me. I laugh a little. Didn’t Niall ask me that same question? I just shake my head. “Because of you, no,” I say — and Kyle beams at me. “You’re an impressive young man, you know that?” He probably blushes because I referred to him as a “man” in some form or other, but he smiles nonetheless. “I’m only ten, Dad.” “All the more impressive, then,” I say with a grin. “You’re smart, intuitive, kind without being asked to be, able to take care of yourself without much help…” I cross my arms over my chest. “You know Niall’s dad doesn’t trust him to stay home by himself?” Because Niall’s a bit of a wild child at times, Kieran only feels comfortable if there’s another adult in the house. Kyle nods a little bit. “I trust you, though.” I don’t say it to compare the two relationships, because they’re incomparable. I say it simply because I want Kyle to know how I feel — and the way he’s trying to hide that smile of his makes me think my sentiment is appreciated. We finish up with dinner and dessert and pay the entire bill with Kyle’s lemonade stand revenue. After leaving a handsome tip, we realize we still have a little extra money — and, per Kyle’s request, we decide to go bowling on the way home. It turns out to be the perfect way to end the night. I haven’t been bowling in over a decade, and it’s apparently been something on Kyle’s bucket list for a little while now, so it’s nice to do something “new” together. Kyle’s a bright light in that alley. He has a smile plastered on his face from the moment he throws his first ball, and it widens when he realizes he’s a bit of a natural. Once he gets the technique down after the first game, he ends up giving me a run for my money. But we’re not playing for scores. We’re playing for strikes, both determined to land at least one each. When Kyle finally knocks down all ten pins in one go, we both cheer so loudly that we draw disapproving looks from our neighbors, acting far more animated and sillier than I think either of us ever have before. I don’t give a fuck, though. We laugh, and smile, and high-five until our wrists get sore, relishing in all those good feelings of a fabulous father-son date. Going home seems unideal, but we’re both satisfied with how our night unfolded. Dinner and bowling with a cute, sweet boy? It’s like I’m in high school again, trying out dating for the first time. When we get home, I feel reinvigorated — and, because I’m unable to resist, I end our night with a quick kiss on Kyle’s lips and another “Thank you” before wishing him well-deserved sweet dreams. He carries that shy little smile all the way to his bedroom, murmurs “Love you, Dad,” and shuts his door, leaving me on cloud nine. As I wake up, I realize I feel… good. There’s no particular reason for it, but I’m excited about today. Sure, Kyle and I are visiting the McCarthys later, and that’s always guaranteed to be a fun time, but it’s more than that. I just feel… lighter, I suppose. Frankly, it’s the first day since the break-up that I haven’t woken up all up in arms about Ethan, contemplating my decisions, trying to remind myself that I’m better off without him. Now, I actually believe it. After a bit of stretching, I throw on some clothes. I’ve taken to sleeping in the nude lately, so I pull on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before exiting my bedroom. First stop: coffee. I head into the kitchen and get the machine running, and while my coffee’s brewing, I let Lucky out. I smile as I watch him sprint around the backyard before sniffing the grass decisively. He looks cuter today for some reason. Maybe I’m just in a really good mood. Once Lucky’s done his business and I’ve procured my mug of coffee, I lean back against the counter and sigh blissfully. Such a simple pleasure, coffee. Tastes extra *right* today. It warms me up, and I lick my lips, watching Lucky lap at his water bowl loudly and eagerly. Something strikes me as odd though: Kyle’s not downstairs. He’s usually up before I am, either messing around on his DS in the living room or making and/or eating breakfast in the kitchen. And he never sleeps past nine, but it’s thirty past. Curious to see if he’s still asleep, I head upstairs, mug in hand, to check on him. My mistake was barging in without knocking — because when I enter his room, Kyle gasps and hastily tries to pull the blankets back over him. But it’s futile, of course. I already got a full view of my ten-year-old son stroking himself to high heaven. I feel tense and awkward. This is so different from catching him with his friend, where both of them remained unaware that I saw anything. Now he knows I’ve seen something, is painfully aware of it. There’s no hiding it. In a panic, I break eye contact with him and quickly shut the door, a bit stunned — both by what I saw and by the stirring in my groin. Immediately, I retreat downstairs, nearly spilling my coffee on myself. Mindless TV. That’s what I need: some mindless TV to distract me from my thoughts. I head straight for the couch, grabbing the remote and switching the channel over to some random early-morning sitcom I’ve never heard of before. It’s fine. I just need to ignore the hard-on attempting to form in my underwear. I need to push back the thoughts of how stunning he looked, how pleased he seemed in that split-second of vulnerability I witnessed. Hell, even the blush in his cheeks when he realized he got caught was so cute that I– No. Stop it, Ricky. Stop. I busy myself with my coffee and the program, repeatedly telling myself to quit thinking about my son like that. I try to at least steer the context towards last night and all those sweet moments we shared, but still, the image of his cock in his young fist is temporarily burned into my mind’s eye. Then, Kyle comes downstairs. We glance at each other briefly, but he looks incredibly embarrassed. I can’t blame him, either. Lord knows how traumatized I felt when my father caught me enjoying a little solo play. Still, I have an opportunity to approach this differently from how my own dad did, so before Kyle moseys off into the kitchen to hide in shame, I turn the volume down on the TV and say, “Hey, Ky. C’mere for a sec.” He shyly shuffles into the room, pausing in front of the couch before I pat the spot next to me. Reluctantly, he sits down, looking at his lap. “Hey,” I say. He responds with a small voice. “Hi.” I clear my throat, making half-assed attempts to catch his eye. “I didn’t mean to scare you earlier.” “It’s okay,” he says, picking at his pajama pants. Ugh, now I have to push the image of those very same pants bunched around his ankles out of my head. I shouldn’t have run off the way I did, but I suppose it’s better that I’m at least addressing it now. “You know it’s okay, right? What you were doing in there?” He just shrugs, still avoiding my gaze. So I try something else, something that’ll surely get his attention: “I do it too,” I tell him. That makes him perk up, embarrassment giving way to curiosity as he finally looks up. “You do?” “Yeah, sometimes,” I say with a smile. “It’s totally natural to want to do it. That’s the thing about being a boy.” “I do it a lot,” he says bashfully. I chuckle slightly. I’m sure he does. “Feels good, right?” He nods, smiling back at me. “Like I said, totally normal.” “So you’re not mad?” he asks, twiddling his thumbs as he looks darıca escort at me. “Not at all, buddy,” I say, giving him a little pat on the thigh. “Keep it up, even. It’s good for you.” He giggles. “It is?” “Well… I mean, just don’t do it *too* much,” I say with a laugh. “And don’t make a mess.” He looks confused. “A mess?” I forgot. He probably can’t even cum yet — a thought that makes me feel like something is momentarily lodged in my throat. “You’ll see,” I say simply before deciding to ask a question that’s been in the back of my head ever since I caught him and the McCarthy boy together. “Where’d you learn all that anyway?” “From Niall,” he says cheerfully, more comfortable now that we’re discussing this openly. I gulp. “Yeah? He show you?” “Mhm. He does it a lot too.” They should consider themselves lucky little bastards to have friends who are willing to explore with them. “You guys have gotten pretty close, huh?” I ask. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Y’know, when Ethan and I were really close… we shared a lot of things, too.” He just looks at me as if waiting for me to finish my thought. “A lot of… you know… fun stuff with our bodies.” It seems to click because his eyebrows briefly shift up. “Like sex?” I blink. “You know about sex?” “Oh yeah,” he says. “Niall told me.” Jesus, where the hell did *Niall* learn all that? Probably his father. He’s a progressive kind of parent. “Well, okay, smarty-pants,” I tease, and Kyle giggles slightly. “Yeah, sex. And Ethan and I… Well, you know how I’m gay?” I ask, turning a bit to face him. “Because you like boys?” “Men,” I quickly correct him, my face flushing. “But yes. It means I like being romantic with men, which, you know, can include sexy stuff.” He nods in understanding. “Do you think you’re the same way?” Kyle processes my question, looking away to think about it. “Um… Am I gay?” he asks for clarification. “Yeah.” He takes another few moments before murmuring, “I don’t know,” shrugging sincerely. “You don’t have to know right now,” I assure him. “There are lots of things you can be besides gay. I was just curious, you know, about you and Niall.” I lick my lips slightly. “Do you like him?” He looks confused. “Yeah. He’s my best friend.” I’m hesitant to use the “l” word in this context because I feel Kyle is too young to understand what I mean. Then again, maybe I’m underestimating him. He’s already far more knowledgeable than I was at his age, and probably ten times wiser. Still, it’s probably easier to keep things simple. “What about a crush?” I ask. “Do you have a crush on him?” He scrunches up his face in a way that instantly makes me laugh. Seeing my reaction makes him smile a bit, and he looks down at his lap, thinking. “Maybe a little.” “Just a little, huh?” I say, stroking his thigh before leaning in as if sharing a secret. “I don’t blame you. He’s pretty cute.” Kyle laughs gently, his face red before he nods in agreement. “Listen,” I say, chuckling. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I just want you to know that I support you, and that I’m here for you, okay? Like you’ve been there for me.” Kyle looks at me appreciatively with his expressive eyes, a look of total appreciation on his face. Then, he leans in and hugs me. “Thanks, Daddy.” As soon as we arrive, Kieran notices I’m in high spirits. It’s actually the first thing he says when we show up at his doorstep. Somehow, he’s attuned to that shift in energy, and he smiles brightly as a result. Catching Kyle was just a minor bump in the road, one that ultimately served us well, so I’m able to pull myself out of the Ethan-induced funk and just enjoy our day together. It’s pumpkin carving season. With Halloween just a few weeks away, we all wanted to do something fun in preparation for it. The four of us swing by a market just out of town to grab two pumpkins each, half of which will be carved and the other half painted. Unsurprisingly, as soon as we get back to Kieran’s house, the boys start to retreat to Niall’s room with their pumpkins and painting supplies. “Where are you going?” Kieran asks, surprised by how quickly they’ve made it halfway up the stairs. They pause, and Niall just pouts at his father. “Can’t we do it in my room?” “Well, what about us?” Kieran asks, gesturing between him and me. “Pleeease?” he whines. I smirk as Kyle just stands quietly, not offering any input. Just like his father, he wants to stay out of any potential confrontation. Kieran sighs through his nose. “Fine. But don’t make a mess,” he warns, but Niall barely hears that latter demand because he sprints up the stairs excitedly with my son tailing behind him. When they disappear, Kieran shakes his head. “So much for this being a family event,” he jokes, chuckling as he kicks his shoes off. “Still wanna carve a few?” I laugh too, shrugging. “Might as well.” We head into the kitchen to set up, grabbing a few serrated knives and a couple spoons. I’ve never carved pumpkins before. Pretty sure I have to scoop out its insides, but I wait for Kieran to make the first move so that I can follow in his footsteps. He takes the knife and starts cutting the crown off, so I do the same, laughing at how uneven my cut is. “So… what’s got you all happy, huh?” I glance over at Kieran, who’s smirking at me. Only then do I realize that I’ve been smiling this whole time. Hell, my cheeks actually hurt a bit. “Just feelin’ good,” I say. “I see that,” he says, eyeing me. “Care to elaborate?” So… I elaborate. As we slowly start scooping out the seeds and inner fibers, I talk about the break up, how I was feeling so conflicted and dejected all week because of it (something Kieran noticed without me even having to tell him), how I woke up this morning refreshed, revitalized, and ready to just… move forward. I end up explaining this in a painfully convoluted way, though, spewing my emotions out onto him with no real end in sight. I don’t realize how long I’ve been droning on until I finally look up at him and see the amused look on his face. “Shit. Sorry,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I’m just blabbing.” “It’s all good, man,” he assures me, looking pleased. “You know I talk your ear off all the time. I’m happy to return the favor. Plus, it’s good to see you all… better.” God, I hate the way he smiles at me. It’s so genuine and bright and focused, and he’s so fucking hot. The offer he made a handful of weeks ago hasn’t left the back of my head. I was so shocked when I felt his bulge against my back while I was sitting in the very chair I’m in now — shocked, and incredibly turned on. I couldn’t tell if he was coming on to me in a serious way or not, but I think it’s just that “buddy-sexual” culture, “bros helping bros out” and all that. It’d certainly fit Kieran’s MO — or, at least, what I’ve imagined it to be. We’ve hung out plenty of times since that night, and not once has he mentioned it. It’s like it never happened. In a way, I appreciate that his offer was presented only once, because I never felt continually pressured. Then again, would I care now? I mean, the only thing that was really holding me back from hooking up with this ginger hunk was my boyfriend, and now that he’s out of the picture… would I be stupid not to take advantage of his willingness? “Kyle seemed extra pleased, too,” Kieran mentions. “Take it the date went well?” I laugh shortly. “You knew?” “Well, sure,” he says, smiling. “Kyle asked Niall for some help, Niall asked me, so I helped them plan it all out and set everything up. All his idea, though.” Then he chuckles. “I thought it was adorable.” “It was,” I admit, sighing happily to myself. “It went… really well.” I feel my chest warming up the more I think about my son. “I’m a lucky guy.” “And don’t you ever forget it,” Kieran playfully warns before his smile softens. “Glad it went well, though. You needed that.” I’m not sure if he means I needed a relaxing evening out or some time with my son, but either way, he’s right. “Question,” I say, scratching my neck. “Did you ever talk to your son about… masturbation and sex and stuff?” Kieran pauses, looking wary for a moment. “What’s this about?” “You’ll never guess what happened this morning,” I say. Then again, maybe he will. Now he looks more so intrigued. “What?” I busy myself with my pumpkin as I speak, grabbing the sharpie and starting to sketch out a face to carve. “Caught Kyle… you know…” I make a jerk-off motion with my fist so that Kieran gets the message. He immediately starts laughing. “No shit!” he says, grinning like a teenager at the mention of something sexual. “First you catch ’em in the act, and now this?” I blush. “It wasn’t on purpose,” I murmur. Kieran just shrugs before saying, “I wouldn’t have blamed you if it was.” I blink, glancing at him. He’s so casual with his words. Does he realize what he’s saying? “What?” he asks when he sees my odd expression. “If anything, it’s sorta funny, no?” I swallow, looking down at my pumpkin. “I guess.” We’re both silent for a few moments, and when I look up, Kieran’s staring at me as if in the midst of deciding something. In the end, he shrugs it off. “So, I’m guessing that conversation went well or something?” he asks, grinning. “You two still seemed okay.” “It was awkward at first, because I panicked and ran off, but… we had a good conversation after,” I say, reflecting on it. “That’s good,” Kieran comments. He’s really scooping out his pumpkin as thoroughly as possible, which makes me think I need to go in for another round. “Guessing you gave him the whole ‘It’s totally natural’ spiel?” I laugh, nodding. “The very one.” Then I smirk slightly in his direction. “Told me a certain McCarthy taught him some things.” Kieran catches my gaze before grinning. “Surely you’re not suggesting I had something to do with this.” “Niall had to learn it from somewhere,” I say, holding my hands up. Kieran stands up straighter, puffing out his chest. “Masturbation is totally natural, Ricky Fischer,” he says in a mock snotty voice. I burst out laughing, nodding to myself. “Fine, fine. I’m just saying, there’s some influence there.” “I’m not gonna apologize for indirectly granting your boy knowledge about his own body,” Kieran “You don’t have to,” I say with a smile. Frankly, I suppose I should be thanking him. Because of his parenting style, of his openness with his own son, Kyle and I are having these conversations and becoming a little closer as a result. All in all, I’m happy. “You know, I think Kyle has a little crush on your boy,” I mention. “Yeah?” Kieran chuckles. “I think that crush is mutual, bud.” “Really?” I perk up slightly, wondering what Niall has said. “He told you?” “Not necessarily in words, no,” Kieran says, “but I have a feeling. Call it a father’s intuition.” If anyone were to have that, it’d be Kieran. “I’m not there yet, but… Kyle pretty much told me straight-up.” “Lookit us,” he says, smiling brightly, “raising two lil lovebirds.” “They certainly seem pretty happy.” “We’re a happy bunch, huh?” “Well, mostly,” I say, biting my lip. “Any updates on Mary?” Kieran recently separated from his wife and they filed for divorce (and I still haven’t been able to deduce *who* actually did the filing). He thought it’d be a mutual thing, but she’s contesting some of the terms: namely, how much money she’s getting out of it. “She’s threatening to try and take Niall if I don’t give her… well, *more*,” he mumbles, stabbing his knife into the pumpkin. I wince. That’s low, even for her. Kieran told me that when he first brought up the issue of custody, she didn’t even fight him on it. “Just take him,” she said in reference to their son. It pissed him off to hear, but in the end, he was glad that this wouldn’t be a battle they’d have to fight — or so he thought, I suppose. “How much is she asking for?” “The house.” “Jesus,” I whisper. Can she do that? I don’t know much on the subject, but I thought that, since Kieran owns the house *and* is essentially Niall’s primary caregiver, he’d be guaranteed the marital home. “What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know,” he says, sighing. “Settle? I don’t want to take this to court — to *any* court.” “But surely you’ll win custody if it comes to that,” I say. I’ve met Mary only a handful of times, and she’s not a pleasant woman — the antithesis of Kieran’s warmth. He just smiles sadly. “You don’t know Mary. She’s an excellent actress. Devious, too.” He just sighs, rubbing his forehead. “And I can’t risk losing Niall, so…” Shit. I feel bad. He’ll be a single father, making the rocky transition into a new field by taking classes and making little money because of it. What is he supposed to do, struggle his way to relative comfort? No. So, I do what I feel is right: I try to help. And since I can’t offer him advice on legal matters, I offer something else. “Look, Kieran,” I say, clearing my throat and talking slowly as if confirming to myself that this is what I want to do, “if you and Niall end up needing a place to stay…” Kieran peers at me, squinting slightly. “You don’t have to do that, man.” “‘Course I do,” I tell him. “Kyle and I have plenty of extra room.” Plus, I know how the two of them live. They’re clean, orderly, conscientious. It won’t be quiet, that’s for sure, but they’re not annoying people. I love being around them, as does Kyle. “But I have all these classes to take, and who knows when we’ll–” “Don’t worry about it, Kieran,” I tell him. I know where he’s going with his excuses, because I was just mulling them over in my own head. “We can make it work.” Kieran stares at me with his calming green eyes before laughing slightly. “Man, you are something, Ricky.” “Just give it some thought,” I say with a smile, deflecting his subtle compliment. “I really fucking appreciate that, bud. More than I can express right now.” He honestly does look incredibly relieved, and part of me hopes it’s as easy as just housing them while they find a new place to live. I just want to do my part. That’s what being a good friend is about, right? “You’ve been there for me and my kid,” I remind him. “Haven’t really done anything to compare to housing my ginger ass, though, have I?” he says with a grin, trying to minimize my reasoning. “Friendship is important,” I say, smiling. He nods. “That it is, big guy. And I’m damn glad we’re friends.” “I am too, man,” I say earnestly. Fuck, living with the McCarthys would be interesting. I get sudden flashing images of Kieran in his full glory, wandering throughout the house in nothing but a towel after a shower, getting glimpses of him in full nudity when he’s feeling particularly carefree. Walking sex, this man is. “I do have some ground rules, though, if and when you decide.” Kieran smirks at my semi-unserious tone, giving me his full attention. “Hit me.” “One, we all split responsibilities: dishes, sweeping, taking care of Lucky, et cetera.” That one’s the serious request. “Easy,” he says, urging me to continue. “Two, you have to bake a batch of those delicious fucking chocolate-chip-n-oatmeal cookies once a week,” I say. It’s mostly a joke, and Kieran gets a kick out of it. “Deal,” he says as he regains composure. I wouldn’t put it past him to actually follow through with that, though. He knows how much I love his recipe. “Three, no bringing women in the house. I’ve nothing against women,” I clarify, “but in your case, if you need it, all booty calls are outcalls.” He snickers, finding me amusing. “Wouldn’t have to bring women to the house if you’d accept my offer,” he says with a wink. kocaeli eve gelen escort I freeze for a moment, unable to tell if he’s joking or not. Kieran’s just a playful sort of dude, maybe even borderline flirtatious, but I’ve always considered that to be in a very “bro” type of way. This is the first time either of us have brought up that day. I’m not a super forward guy, not like Kieran is, so it takes me a few moments to muster up enough courage to ask. “Well… if we’re on the subject… can I ask you a personal question?” He raises one eyebrow before nodding. “Shoot.” “You’re straight, right?” His grin slowly widens, and after a moment, he starts laughing. “Don’t know where you got that idea.” I blink. “But you’re married–” “You know bisexual people exist, right?” He’s teasing me, of course, but I blush. Why the fuck didn’t that thought even cross my mind? This whole time, I just assumed Kieran was as straight as an arrow. Maybe I just liked that straight-guy fantasy. “So you’re bi.” “So I’m bi,” he repeats, still amused. “Hence the… offer,” I say. He just nods. “Hence the offer.” I swallow thickly, sitting up in my chair a bit, reevaluating. Kieran’s bi. Kieran didn’t just want to have us “help each other out” out of the need for pure, sexual release. He’s attracted to me. Right? I suppose him just being bisexual doesn’t necessarily mean he’s into me in any capacity, but there’s at least a chance there — a good chance we could take this friendship to a physical place. “Another question, then,” I say finally, trying not to squirm in my seat. God, I’m fucking horny already. He just looks up at me and urges me to ask with a look. “Is the offer still on the table?” Now it’s his turn to pause. He stands up straighter, half-grinning as he eyes me up and down. “Offer’s still on the table, yeah,” he says, his voice low. “Or this counter. Or the bedroom.” I stare at him, sucking in my bottom lip. He’s really offering. Kieran’s really down to mess around with me. Who would have thought that after nearly two months of fantasizing about this muscle stud he’d actually be bisexual — not only that, but he’s interested in my average ass. His wife is a bombshell, so here I envisioned him only fucking with the cream of the crop: models, gym rats, slim yoga girls, dudes with six packs… No point questioning it now. If he wants it, he can have it, because I fucking need it. I need that physicality. I needed it months ago, from my ex, so Kieran better buckle up. “I’ll take the bedroom,” I murmur. He smirks slightly, putting his knife down. “You’re serious?” “I’m serious.” He licks his lips, still staring me down as if sizing me up, or gauging my sincerity. In the end, he runs his fingers smoothly through his hair before laughing and then nodding. “C’mon.” A simple request, but my heart is racing as I slide out of my seat and follow Kieran upstairs. As we climb, I can’t resist staring at the round, full ass Kieran’s jeans are carrying. God, it looks so fucking juicy. I wonder if Kieran’s into getting rimmed… The closer we get to the top, the louder our sons’ muffled voices. They’re just on the other side of the staircase, chatting and giggling, probably cracking jokes and horsing around — totally unaware that their fathers are about to veer off to the left, down the hall, and into the master bedroom. When we enter, I realize that I’ve never seen Kieran’s room until now. At first, I’m surprised by how bare it looks: it just consists of a bed, a desk with nothing but a laptop and some framed photos on it, a dresser that would survive a bombing, and naked walls. It seems when Mary left, she took a lot of any potential flair out — unless Kieran just got rid of it all. Now that I think about it, the latter makes more sense. Then, the door shuts behind me, and I spin around to see Kieran smirking before he removes his shirt with one effortlessly fluid motion. Like magnets, my eyes are automatically drawn to his body: pale, defined muscles from his neck to his waist, from his shoulders to his wrists, all coated in a dusting of reddish hair. Already, I feel my cock swelling. “You gonna stare all day or you gonna take your shirt off?” Kieran asks. My eyes (reluctantly) flicker back up to his face and meet his gaze. Here goes, I guess. I slowly pull my shirt off, struggling a little more than Kieran did — and once it’s off and on the floor, I feel almost silly and inadequate. That feeling only lasts a few moments though, because Kieran lets out a noise of approval as he looks me over. “Fuckin’ stud,” he murmurs before stepping closer, bridging the gap between us. Before I know it, his hand is on the back of my head and his face is moving closer. The split second of his hot breath on my lips gives me a minor tingling sensation, and when our lips connect, chills erupt throughout my whole body. God, yes. This is what I need: a deep, passionate make-out session with another bearded, uber-masculine man. I snake my arms around his sturdy frame, and he reciprocates, securing us together. Now, kissing is one of the most important things to me when it comes to the bedroom. It has to be a reliable foundation. Otherwise, the entire vibe of the room is thrown out of balance, and intimacy has to be supplemented elsewhere. But if the lip-locking is right, everything else falls into place — and boy, is it right with Kieran. Perfect pressure, perfect amount of tongue, perfect hand placement… Either I’ve just been desperate for some half-decent sexual contact, or this man knows what he’s doing. He’s got a flavor: raspberry, I think. Suddenly, I can’t remember if he drank anything while we were downstairs, but just as quickly as that thought comes to mind, I realize it doesn’t matter. He just tastes *good*. As we kiss a little deeper and hold on a little tighter, I get daring enough to slide a hand down and grab his ass. To my pleasant surprise, he responds with increased depth, pushing his hips towards mine and simultaneously pulling me in so that our groins make as much contact as possible. We’re both hard. I can feel it — and I want it. Slowly, without breaking our lips from each other, I start moving us towards his bed. I feel him smile slightly during the kiss, humming before leaning in to snag my bottom lip gently between his teeth. As he tugs playfully, I grip his belt, spin him around, and, as soon as he lets go, I push him onto the bed. I don’t give him much time to get comfortable. I just climb right on top, eager, horny, ready to devour him. First, I go for the belt, straddling his thick, muscled thighs as I undo the obstacle in my path. As the buckle gives way, I wonder how true-to-fantasy Kieran’s cock will be. I’ve imagined he’s endowed in all types of ways: long and slim, average but thick, a happy medium between the two, hung like a horse, girthy enough to make a beer can envious… Which one, big guy? Once his jeans are open, I hook my fingers into the waistband and start tugging them off. Underneath, Kieran’s sporting a pair of Calvins with a generous bulge snaking up towards the left hip. I lick my lips at the sight of it — but before I can dive in, large hands reach forward to do the same to my pants. Within a flash, my jeans are pooled at my ankles, and I’m in nothing but my boxers, rocking a major tent in the front. Kieran pulls me back onto the bed, but by grabbing my hard-on through my fabric — and goddamn, that feels good. I let out a soft moan of pleasure, my cock so fucking thankful to be touched again, even if it’s though one last layer of clothing. I climb on top of Kieran and straddle his lap once more before he pulls me back down for another round of kissing. Slowly, I grind my bulge against his as the wet noises and soft grunts of our make out become the soundtrack to our play. I keep my pace insistent, working my hips as he holds onto my sides, rutting his own brief-clad bulge back against mine. Quickly, we find a rhythm that we both like. When he slides his hand into my boxers and wraps his fingers around my cock, I groan like I just sunk into his hole or something. Nothing like a sure hand after months of no external contact. Kieran chuckles a bit, moving his lips to my neck. “How long has it been?” he asks tenderly. “I don’t know, six months?” I murmur, clenching my teeth as my cock throbs in his hand. “Fuck,” he whispers, clearly disapproving. “Want me to help you cum, stud?” I nod. Kieran could do whatever to me right now and I’d be fine with it. Hell, I’m a top, and I’d let him fuck me if that’s what it’d take for him to make me unload. We roll over and shift towards the middle of the bed so that I’m on my back, body bared to him. He shifts off of me slowly, stripping me of my boxers as he moves. Once the waistband slides past my cock, my hard-on slaps hard against my stomach, rigid and pulsing, apparently impressive enough for Kieran to whistle. “Thick all over,” he says with a grin, licking his lips as he pulls my boxers off of my ankles and tosses them to the side of the bed. Then, gingerly, he lifts my cock up with his fingers, eyeing it. “Never seen an uncut dude up close before,” he murmurs, looking fascinated. That must mean he’s circumcised. Guess I can scratch that question off my list. “Sorry if you’re put off,” I say. “Quite the contrary, buddy,” he says, giving my cock some slow strokes and watching the way my foreskin moves. “Kyle uncut too?” I blink, glancing at him. “Um… Yeah,” I say, images of Kyle’s boyhood suddenly flooding my brain: it in its flaccid state at the McCarthys’ pool and in its erect state this morning. His will be just like mine, I bet: a sturdy seven or so inches, thicker than most and comfortably hairy. “Like father, like son,” Kieran says. “And he’ll be just as fuckin’ handsome as his daddy.” Before I can even think to respond, he asks another question while gripping my cock and gently shifting the skin up and down. “Any particular way you like to get head?” I’m surprised he’s asking. No one else has ever asked me something like that before — at least, not at the cusp of the moment. “Uh… Just kinda go easy on the stroking,” I comment. My foreskin’s fairly loose, but the last thing I need is for him to go ham on his stroke and pull my skin back too hard. “A little nibbling won’t hurt, either.” “Comin’ right up,” he says with a wink. He starts off slow and curious, feeling his way through it, and I can’t help but think of the first time I sucked a cock (which happened to be uncut) because Kieran’s doing similar things. My first was when I was thirteen with a boy a handful of years older than me. He was equipped with a sturdy piece and a passive disposition. He just let me do whatever I wanted, so I simply kept doing what made him moan the most: pressed my tongue insistently against his frenulum and then drew the skin up on the upstroke to work my tongue inside like I was French kissing it. Kieran’s doing the same thing here, and I smile through my moans. Kieran pulls off after a minute, shaking his head. “Fuck, that’s wild, man,” he says, fascinated. Honestly, I wonder if me being uncut was part of the reason Ethan slowly stopped sleeping with me. He never took to it well. Kieran, however, seems all about it. “How’s your sensitivity?” he asks before he realizes I can’t possibly make that comparison. “Never mind. You’ve never been cut.” “Rumor has it uncut dudes are more sensitive,” I comment. “You certainly seem so,” he says with a grin up at me before eyeing my cock again and sighing. “Man, I kinda wish I had kept my boy intact. If I had known, I would have.” Kieran leans in again, gently nibbling on my foreskin before he holds the skin down, runs his tongue around the head, and then fellates me faster, with gusto. The change of pace sends little electric shocks throughout my body, and I moan through his incredibly wet movements. He keeps it loud and sloppy, the wet noises clicking off the walls of his bedroom, my grunts deep and choked. He’s just letting himself drool on me, heightening the sensations for me for several minutes until he has to pull off for a breather. “Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ thick, buddy,” he says, stretching out his jaw. “Sorry,” I murmur, smiling. He laughs. “Don’t ever apologize for that,” he says, massaging either side of his jaw with his thumb and two fingers. “It’s just been a while since I had a decent-sized dick.” He toys with my cock with his other hand, watching the skin glide as he casually strokes me. “Sorry if I’m being weird, but I’m really fascinated.” “All good,” I say with a pleased chuckle. “It’s better than you being… I don’t know….” “Grossed out?” he offers. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Dudes usually like… cower in fear.” “They don’t deserve shit from you, then,” he says, winking subtly at me. “I think it’s fuckin’ cool that you’re all natural. Hell, must be easy to jerk off with this thing.” I don’t know why *that* makes me blush, but I feel my face get warm. “Yeah, I don’t need lube or anything.” “Heh, very cool, man,” he says, bundling the skin above the tip. “I don’t either, but that’s just because I spit pre like a motherfucker.” That makes me salivate almost instantaneously. I wonder if his briefs are a little soaked right now, and I’m eager to get my lips on him. “Let’s see, then,” I say, cocking my chin towards his groin. Kieran just laughs. “You’ll get your turn, big guy,” he says cheekily, “but I’m not done playing yet.” And with that, Kieran leans back in, slides the skin down, holds his fist in place, and sucks me off hard. My eyes practically roll back as he gives my exposed head more sloppy, wet, and fast-paced attention. My legs tense and my toes curl, watching him work like a man on a mission. Then, he tries something new: he takes me into his throat. I gasp at the sudden shift in tightness, closing my eyes for a moment and feeling him try to take me further and further. He nearly makes it all the way with less than an inch to spare, but he quickly pulls off, panting, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Goddamn, you smell fucking sexy, Rick,” he murmurs before burying his face into my crotch. He takes a long whiff, filling his lungs with my musk before lapping up to the head and swallowing my cock again. This man doesn’t waste any time — or maybe he’s cock-hungrier than I thought he’d be. I bite my lip, watching him blow me hands-free so that his hands can go other places, like roaming my body or groping himself. I was hesitant at first, but as I feel my orgasm building, I decide to grab the back of Kieran’s head, gently taking hold of his soft hair. “Gonna cum,” I mumble, inhaling deeply through my nose. He doesn’t slow up one bit, with his mission still underway: to get my load. My pubes are soaked with his spit, and I watch my buddy work me over with his eyes closed and humming gently on my cock. Well, if he wants it… I tense up, gripping his hair a little more as I start to cum, even bucking my hips up involuntarily. My body has a mind of its own now, desperate to get my fix as intensely as possible. I don’t resist crying out in bliss, in relief, my cock feeling like it gets even thicker before finally dumping its seed into a willing mouth — some of it even straight down his throat. “Fuck,” he mumbles, mouth full of cum, chuckling slightly as he struggles to swallow it all. He keeps one hand on my cock and the other right in front of his mouth as he gulps down my load. Shit, it must have been huge for him to pant like he just downed a bottle of water. As he catches his breath, gebze escort bayan he starts laughing a little louder. “Do you always cum like that?” “It’s just been a while,” I say, chuckling softly. “Goddamn. Well, regardless, impressive,” he says, running his tongue along his bottom lip before wiping it with a single finger. “Just wait ’til you see my skills,” I say as he fondles my cock, giving it a few squeezes just to milk out the last few drops. “Hope you like Irish bananas,” he teases. I roll my eyes and laugh, appreciating that Kieran’s casual enough to make jokes even when we’re fooling around. He finally lets go of my cock and sits back on his heels, legs spread and body made available. I find myself staring, admiring, noticing the dark spot near the upper left face of his briefs, right where the head of his cock is — but apparently I eyefuck him for a little too long. “Well?” Kieran asks. “Sorry,” I mutter, licking my lips, and sitting up cross-legged in front of him. He sits up fully on his knees for me so that it’s as easy as peeling down his briefs — but not yet. I want to relish this moment. I lean in and drag my tongue along his length through his underwear. Just as he told me: he precums like a motherfucker, having made a can-sized spot for me to suck on. He grunts softly, bringing his hands to my head and resting them there while I tease myself, one layer away from blowing what is sure to be a hell of a cock. Once I’ve sucked the essence from his Calvins, I hook my fingers into his waistband and pull back quickly, no longer able to wait another moment. Kieran’s cock swings free and I audibly groan in response to how handsome it is: stiff, thick meat with the slightest upwards curve, even-toned, jutting out from a neatly trimmed, fire-red bush and pendulous balls hanging lowly underneath. He wasn’t kidding when he said “Irish banana.” When I test it out by wrapping my fingers around the shaft, I notice he looks like he’s a little longer than me in length — which is fine. This is the kind of cock I can *really* take care of. Holding him tenderly in my grip, I press my lips to the head and let his girth part them. God, he tastes phenomenal. All that precum makes my tongue do dances around his glans, seeking out every last molecule as I guide him deeper into my mouth. I hear Kieran let out a long, pleased sigh as he strokes my hair. Delicious. Fucking delicious. I have a severe oral fixation, so Kieran’s in for a treat. “Goddamn, that’s good,” I hear Kieran whisper. It’s been a while, but sucking dick is like riding a bike: some things you just never forget. I guide him effortlessly into my throat but only take the head in, both as a tease and to make sure I don’t hurt him considering the small degree of curvature. While I bob my head back and forth, I use this opportunity to feel him out, sliding my hands up the honed ridges of his abs and coming to rest on those solid pectorals. It’s a chest built for the gods, capped with hairy nipples that are begging to be manipulated. I pinch them lightly, and nearly smile around his cock when I notice how his hips simultaneously push forward. Duly noted. Then, I slowly pull off, but only to switch positions. I’m desperate to take him deeper, so I roll onto my back with my head between his thighs, reaching up to give his cock a few strokes. Graciously, he shifts down a bit so that I don’t have to strain my neck giving his balls some much-deserved attention. He moans out as I lap and suck, getting the bulk of his manscent right here: musky, a little sweet, a lotta sexual. It’s making me dizzy with lust. I grab his cock and guide it down to my lips, taking him eagerly back into my mouth. Just as I had hoped, Kieran leans over a bit and starts moving his hips, slowly feeding me more inches of his cock. I grunt when the head of his cock hits my throat, but I lean up to take more. “Aw, fuck, buddy,” Kieran murmurs as I hold onto his hips and guide him deeper. C’mon, stud. Lemme swallow that cock. Kieran starts feeding me generous strides of his cock, moving slow and sinking in deep. Each time he pushes forward, his balls come to rest on my nose, his pubes tickling my bottom lip and meshing with my beard. I make sure to breathe every time he pulls back, feeling lightheaded but in the best fucking way. “Fuck yeah, Ricky,” Kieran groans, starting to fuck my mouth with a little more gusto. “You hot motherfucker.” As his balls start to lightly slap my nose with each thrust, I slide my hands up to his ass and let myself grope. Jesus Christ, it’s fatter than I thought: two large, smooth cheeks with ample real estate for me to grab and squeeze and pry — and Kieran seems into it. He grunts, flexing his jock-made bubble butt for me before driving his cock in deep and holding. I groan around his cock, tensing my throat as if trying to swallow him whole. Just when I start to get worried about air supply, he pulls out sharply, thick, viscous saliva dripping off his cock and onto my face. I lick my lips and pant as I look up at him. “You’ve got a great fuckin’ dick, man,” I compliment. He hums lowly, working that spit into his cock. “Only as good as the receiver, right?” “Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s perfect on its own.” And I mean it. I could suck that thing for hours, if he’d let me — but I also have something else on my list. “You ever have your ass eaten, big guy?” He grins down at me. “You offering, stud?” I just nod as we maintain intense eye contact for a moment. Then, after his smirk widens, my view of his face is obscured by his lower body. Fuck yeah. I lie in place as he moves his ass right over my face: beautifully thick cheeks with a deliciously hidden center. Time to be smothered. I lean up and nibble on one mound before spreading his glutes apart. Nestled in the humid valley is his pink pucker with, I’m more pleased to see, a bit of darker red hair around the hole. That’s the kind of sight that makes a guy’s mouth water. Even though I just came no more than ten minutes ago, I feel my cock surging back to life as I lean in tongue first. The touch of my tongue has two simultaneous effects: one, Kieran moans out; and two, his hole throbs. Eager to feast, I line his ring with saliva before moving my hands to his front. I grip his thighs to pull him onto me deeper, letting him know that it’s okay to fucking bury me between these heavy cheeks of his. I want that. “Fuuuck yeah, Ricky,” Kieran murmurs, reaching behind him to grab a fistful of my hair. “Get in there.” Yes sir. I lick, prod, and munch on his hole, making Kieran start to gyrate his hips. Goddamn, he has such a sweet ass: perfect to make out with, to French kiss with, to get sloppy with. I’m practically sucking on his ring, making the lewdest wet noises around and not caring that I’m drooling. I’m sure my beard, now soaked with my spit, is simply adding an extra dimension to his pleasure, so I use it to my advantage and rub my face all over his hole. It makes Kieran swear a little louder and tug on my hair even more tightly, but I don’t mind. In fact, it’s turning me on. “Goddamn, I’m gonna fuckin’ bust, Ricky,” he grunts after a while — and that’s when I notice the additional wet noises. He’s vigorously stroking off. “Ugh, you hungry fucker. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” Shit. What do I want? Do I want to ride him through his orgasm and let him spill his load all over me, or do I want to swallow it straight from the tap? I hesitate to choose — and I end up taking too long to pick, because, just as my tongue wiggles its way into him, Kieran groans out. I feel hot cum start to splatter in ropes on my chest. Slowing my assault, I hum deeply and just let his hole clench on my tongue, very lightly fucking him with subtle movements. When he comes down from his orgasm, Kieran lets out a laughing sigh. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters before playfully grinding against my face for a few seconds. I can’t help but laugh, giving his perfect ass a calculated slap as he slides off. “That mouth of yours is dangerous, Richard Fischer,” Kieran says, hopping off the bed and stretching before he tosses a nearby towel my way and grins at me. I just smile, eyeing him as I clean my chest off, partially awed by the energy he radiates. After cumming, after getting that sexual release I so desperately craved, I had a worry creep up in the back of my head. What if it gets weird? What if this fucks up our dynamic? However, seeing that particular, classic smile from Kieran somehow puts my worries at ease for good. Fresh from a full oral experience and he’s as chipper as ever, his normal friendly self, and I half expect him to ask if I want to shoot hoops or something. How is he so easygoing about everything? He’s even in the middle of a divorce with a woman practically threatening to somehow take his kid away from him, which is far more stressful than my break up was with Ethan. Clearly I react more strongly to my woes. Maybe he just internalizes everything — but he outputs such a light that I can’t help but wonder, how? What’s his secret? How can I be more like him? “You look deep in thought,” Kieran comments, holding his hand out. I glance up at his face before smiling. “Sorry,” I mutter, passing him the used towel. He just laughs, tossing it in the hamper in the corner of the room before rejoining me on the bed. “What’s on your mind, bud?” I hesitate to speak at first. “I don’t want to be that guy.” He just lies next to me on his side, resting on one elbow so that he can look down at me still. “Be that guy.” I clear my throat before bringing my hands together and resting them on the middle of my torso. “How are you so perfect?” Kieran bursts out laughing, probably having expected me to say something else. “I’m not perfect, big guy,” he claims. “Well, you make it easy for a guy like me to be envious of you,” I admit. He raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “You’re jealous of me?” “Duh. Fucking look at you,” I say, gesturing to his body. He just chuckles. “And you always seem so carefree, and laidback, and adventurous, and… I’m not like that.” “Well, listen, boss,” he says. “I’m not perfect, I promise. I’m easygoing around you because you’re easy to be easygoing around, you know? But I’ve got flaws like everybody else.” I scoff. “That’s like asking a rich person how wealthy they are and them saying saying, ‘I’m comfortable’,” I mutter, which gets another laugh out of him. “You’re just hellbent on being out of sorts,” he says, nudging my side with his fist. “Maybe I am,” I say before sighing, shaking my head. That’s my comfort zone, oddly enough. “I’m sorry, man. It’s just easier for me to think ‘What am I doing wrong?’ when I see, you know, how you look, and how you approach life, and your relationship with your son…” I trail off, figuring it all speaks for itself. But he wants clarification on that latter point. “What about us?” I shrug. “Well, you guys are obviously super close. Again, you make it look so easy.” “‘It’ being fatherhood?” he asks. “Sure, yeah,” I say with another shrug. I don’t even know what I’m specifically referring to anymore. “I think you’re thinking about it a little too hard, buddy.” “Well, overthinking *is* one of my many skills,” I say with a bitter smile. “Along with giving head and eating ass, yeah, I noticed,” he says with a grin before getting a little more serious. “Don’t listen to you, then. Trust *me*: from one father to another, you’re doing great with your boy.” I smile slightly. Somehow, I just inherently trust Kieran, and after all the time we’ve willingly put into our friendship, I can’t argue that he’s a solid voice of reason. “I told him that I love him,” I suddenly mention. The way Kieran lights up, you would have thought he had just won the lottery — or found out he was having another boy. “Hey!” he says, slapping my chest with a laugh. “That’s fucking great, man! I know what a big deal that is for you, and I’m happy you did it.” He leans in ever so slightly, beaming. “Bet he said it back, huh?” I try to resist smiling like a goon, but I can’t help it. “Sure did.” “Knew it,” he murmurs, chuckling lowly. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Then: “Well…” I arch my eyebrows. “‘Well’?” “Niall might give you a run for your money,” he says with a grin. I laugh, relieved that he’s talking about the crush and not me. “Some stiff competition, that’s for sure.” “‘Stiff’ is right,” Kieran mutters, and both of us burst into a quiet fit of laughter like we’re two schoolboys making dick jokes. That’s another kind of energy Kieran gives off: boyish. Maybe that’s what keeps him and Niall so close. He’s able to straddle that line between relatable and paternal, always talking to Niall like he’s just “one of the boys” without taking things too seriously, never treating his son like he’s some silly kid who’s too young and na�ve to understand the way the world works. After all, kids don’t want to be babied. They just want to be included. They want to be recognized for their worth. Just as I’m pondering this, Kieran leans in a bit and asks me what I think they’re doing right now. I laugh gently through my nose, remembering the hasty way they ran up to Niall’s room. Painting pumpkins? Yeah right. “Probably up to no good,” I murmur. Kieran chuckles a little, and only then do I realize how close he is to my ear. “Kinda like we are?” I gulp at that realization, my body suddenly feeling… strange. “Maybe,” I mumble. I feel a warm hand resting on my inner thigh, casually sliding up until his knuckles nudge my balls. The simple touch gets the blood rushing back to my member. “Messing around down the hall, probably,” he says in a low voice, nearly a whisper. “Yeah,” I say a little more breathily, a little more nervously. “Probably.” He lets out a soft laugh, but it’s barely distinguishable from a small rush of air. “Like fathers, like sons,” he says again as he wraps his fingers around my growing cock. I groan, raising my hips. There’s that motto again, but this context is a little different. “Fuck,” I pant. Kieran slides closer and leans in to kiss my neck and whisper almost directly in my ear. “How good do you think he’s feeling right now?” I know he’s talking about Kyle. He’s talking about my son, and it’s making me rock fucking hard. There’s no denying that. Kieran seems to know exactly how to push my buttons — buttons that I’ve only recently acquired. I can’t even fully think about the implications of this scenario, or the guilt that will surely come. All I’m thinking about is his question: How good do I think his son is making my son feel right now? I hold back a moan, but I can’t hold back my answer. “Good,” I say simply, sighing deeply as Kieran strokes me up and down. His warm, sure hand is working me spectacularly. In a way, I feel like a teenage boy again: so quick to cum. “Real good.” “I think so, too,” Kieran murmurs, his voice low and filling my chest as he speaks. “I think we’re all making each other feel real good.” I think of what’s occurring in this room being reflected in Niall’s room. I think of Ky resting on his back, stripped bare, eyes closed and lips parted as his best friend and little lover takes good care of him. Slow strokes on his young but impressive uncut cock, just like Niall’s daddy is doing to me. Careful touches, soft panting breaths on the ear, delicious whimpers — until he scrunches up his face, emits a boyish cry of pleasure, and lets his body be rocked with another orgasm. My cum shoots through my cock so hard it almost stings, and I hiss as my member throbs in Kieran’s unrelenting grip. Looking down, I watch my thick cream shoot and then ooze out of the slit, my friend’s hand gradually reducing his pace as if time is suddenly in slow-motion. I pant, bewildered, dazed, and I let the shame wash over me: hot, profound, orgasm-inducing shame. – End of Chapter 5 –

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