Date: Sun, 29 Aug 2010 21:13:58 -0700
From: DJ <barebuttup@gmail.com>
Subject: Father and Son Byrne Ch 6

As they waited for the car, as they entered the hotel and walked through the
lobby to the reservation concierge, as they strolled past the lounge and
made their way upstairs to the suite he reserved, Brian felt a rush of
emotion. He puzzled it out and realized that pride was mingled with an
intense urge to shout to the world, "This gorgeous young man is my lover, my
son!" He wanted to hold Ciaran's hand, he wanted to kiss him passionately
for all to see. He wanted -- for them to be acknowledged as a couple. Brian
was utterly mystified by the desires he felt, but not so off his game that
his cock wasn't threatening to embarrass him mightily as they made their
way.

Ciaran, on the other hand, felt a bit shy. He was proud to walk with his
dad, but the fact that they consistently turned heads of every woman AND man
they passed unsettled Ciaran. As an athlete, he was familiar with being
recognized. This, though, this was weird. Just being gawked at and openly
lusted over was a new experience for the younger Byrne. He wanted to be just
focusing on his father, and to not feel as though they were in a fishbowl.

A kind but slightly intrusive bellman opened the door to the suite and
inquired as to what more he could do. Brian thanked and tipped him and let
him know that nothing more was needed. He hung the Do Not Disturb sign,
closed the door, leaned against it for a moment, took a deep breath to call
in his slightly fractured energy, looked at his son who stood looking out
the fifth floor window, and said, quietly, "Whew, son, don't know about you,
but I am appreciating the quiet at this moment. Hehe, and definitely the
view."

Ciaran turned to Brian and said, "No kidding. Since we've barely seen anyone
for the past month, I feel as though I lost my ability to be in the
world...or, maybe, dad, I just have no desire. Come here, I need my daddy. I
just felt like there were a thousand piranhas circling us. Did anybody
nibble on you? I think I felt teeth coming after me!"

"Get used to it, Ciaran. This sounds completely arrogant, but hell, son,
LOOK at us in the mirror," he pulled his son to a full-length antique mirror
that stood in its own frame beside the chest of drawers. They stood together
quietly for a moment. Ciaran blushed fiercely.

The reflection showed two tall men, chiseled features, high cheek bones,
broad foreheads, wide set eyes, strong jaws. The elder with gray in his
curly unruly dark hair, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, broad chest, nips
showing in his snug sweater. Trim waist, flat belly, slacks that hugged
snugly to show off a round ass, thick thighs. Powerful hands. The other, a
bit taller, leaner, lighter hair, still unruly, although cut shorter. Clean
shaven as the other, same intense, arrestingly colored eyes. Broader in the
chest, more of a pronounced V in his body, definition in his musculature,
not bulk, and the same round ass and thighs that promised power. Hands that,
like the father's spoke of power with thickish blunt fingers. And, as they
scrutinized one another and themselves, each noted with lust, the swell of
their family legacy, thick, throbbing, urgently needing release.

As Ciaran gazed at their reflection he wondered if his father had secretly
prepared for the time when they would begin the exploration of power
exchange together. He thought about his intense Internet search for someone
from whom to learn, about the gratitude he felt for finding someone whom he
trusted, and the information dump he'd received in the past couple of weeks.
He thought too, about the little surprises he had along with them for the
evening. With a wicked grin, still pondering their visage, Ciaran leaned in
to Brian's neck and bit him hard.

Brian gasped and grabbed Ciaran as his knees nearly buckled. Ciaran stood
and regarded his father with an evil grin, then casually observed, as though
nothing happened, "Gawd, dad, I guess you're right. I'd be lusting for us,
too if I saw us. Now I think I finally understand what you meant my whole
life when you drilled into me to be grateful for the gifts I've been given
and to always maintain my humility. What's different tonight is that, really
for the first time ever, daddy, I feel -- I feel like a man beside you, not a
kid."

As Brian tried to recover from the shock of the bite, and from the attendant
surge of adrenaline -- blood to his now absolutely hard dick, he slipped his
arm around Ciaran's waist, still staring at their reflection in the mirror.
"Fuck, son, and, I feel like a school boy with my first crush. All I wanted
to do was to shout to the world that we are lovers, that this gorgeous hunk
of manhood is my LOVER AND my son!"

Ciaran's look elicited a guffaw from his dad. "Okay, so maybe we're not
quite ready for a gay pride march. I know we have a lot of challenges ahead,
son, but SON, I'm excited. And, you are a damned gorgeous man."

"Hmm," Ciaran retorted, "one, I might add whom you have not kissed now for,"
glancing at his watch, "two and one half hours." With that, Ciaran pulled
Brian to him. "You liked that when I bit you, didn't you, daddy?" As Brian
began to answer, C's strong hands held his face fast as his tongue assaulted
Brian's mouth, lips, face. Brian's hands were everywhere on his son, on his
chest, down his sides, feeling his son's coiled snake, which strained in his
trousers.

Ciaran broke the kiss after several minutes and quietly said, "Dad, take off
all your clothes. Now."

Brian closed his eyes and exhaled softly then opened them and said, "Yes,
son, as you wish."

Ciaran lazily crossed his arms over his chest, and widened his stance a bit.
Brian slipped off his loafers and neatly deposited them near the dresser.
Next, slowly, he unfastened his belt. "Pull that out and give it to me,
please," was the soft request.

Brian complied, and Ciaran held the belt, feeling its soft leather, pulling
it through his hands, loving the texture. Next, Brian slipped off his
trousers folded them and hung them on the tallboy. "Lose the shirt and the
jock, daddy."

In a fluid slow movement, Brian slipped the sweater over his head, paused to
look at his son, flexing his pecs, staring into Ciaran's eyes. He folded the
sweater and put it on the tallboy. Next, Brian slid off the jock, wincing as
his turgid dick smacked him in the belly. He stood in front of Ciaran, very
close, hands clasped behind his back.

C reminded himself to breathe, to go slowly, to relax and to feel his
wisdom, let it guide him. He remembered the words of his new mentor: nothing
that happened would be a misstep, only experience. He asked himself what HE
wanted. He wanted to have Brian experience control and he wanted to flex
that control, to feel more adrenaline as he controlled the intensity of
their exchange.

And, he needed information from his dad, to learn more of Brian's feelings,
thoughts, and responses as they explored.

He slid the belt through his fingers again and lifted it and began draping
the belt around Brian's neck. He lightly rubbed the leather against Brian's
skin, dangled it over each nipple, toyed with Brian. He dangled the belt so
that it teased Brian's fully turgid cock. He slid it against Brian's back,
around his waist, arms. Ciaran's eyes were inwardly focused, learning
Brian's responses and feeling his own.

Brian's heart pounded, as he felt his son accruing information, testing
Brian, testing himself. His heart again swelled with pride at the way his
son was learning for both of them. When the leather touched Brian's manhood,
a deep moan broke the silence.

"Ah, daddy's hungry..." Ciaran whispered. Then Ciaran continued rubbing the
leather belt over Brian. Each wrist was strapped, wrapped, tightly, then
unwrapped. Ciaran made his way down Brian's legs and wrapped the belt
restraint-like around his father's powerful thighs, bulked calves, and
sturdy, chiseled ankles. Each time that Ciaran tightened the belt, Brian
experienced a wave of near-euphoria, as if beckoned to visit a place he'd
long dreamt to go.

The quality of the minutes as they ticked by...infused with more intimacy
than either the younger or the elder Byrne ever imagined. Each man stepped
out on the first steps of a new journey. Brian's vision was that of
beginning a long trek, backpack heavy on his back, the dew still full on
leaves, the morning birdsong breaking the silence, the mountain, huge,
exciting, a little daunting in front of him. In the vision, he saw himself
as he regarded the mountain. He felt his body's excitement coiled, he fought
with himself to not start the trek at a run. Breathing himself back, slowly,
into his body, into the awareness that in the present, he stood exposed,
naked, in front of his beloved Ciaran...who regarded his father, the object of
his passion, his profound admiration. And, yet, it was his father now who
awaited his command. Knowing that he need only step into the role of
dominant, just a small shift in his perception and he would be there, Ciaran
also took a deep breath, closed his eyes briefly, opened them, exhaled.

Holding the belt in his hands, he slid it around Brian's neck, slipping the
end into the buckle, pulling it snug around Brian's neck. Snug enough for
Brian to have the sense of a collar. Each understanding the significance of
the collar, Ciaran pulled Brian to him and kissed him, tenderly at first,
with profound awe, as though the first time either felt the other's face,
clean shaven with the feeling of man's cheek, just the other side of soft.
Each moaned as Ciaran asked, quietly, "Ready to serve me, father?" He
tightened the belt around Brian's neck slightly and peered into Brian's
clear light green eyes and waited for a response.

Brian met his son's gaze, feeling inside him a great yielding, a casting off
of weight from his soul. Tearing a bit, in a strong if husky voice, he
answered, "I have been ready, son, always. Yes."

"Then, tell me, father, so I may do my duty to you well, is there anything I
need to know, any reservations you hold? Anything you wish me to not do?"

With a grin lifting the right side of his mouth, Brian replied, breathing in
Ciaran's man musk, feeling so near to exploding just from the feel of the
leather around his neck, "I ask that you push me, Ciaran, push us both. To
whatever extent you are comfortable." Reddening slightly, Brian added, "I
need you to hurt me, son. I don't know why...just, please..."

"Understood," Ciaran said as he pushed his father's shoulders down. With the
grace of an athlete half his age, Brian sank to his knees as Ciaran held
fast the belt around his neck. "And, for your part, will you accept my
control, father? Will you promise to do your utmost to serve as I ask?"

Brian held both of his son's hands and looked into Ciaran's eyes, then
lowered his. He kissed each of C's palms and replied, "It is my honor, son.
Yes."

Silence in the room save only for the sound of a zipper slowly unzipping.
Ciaran fisted his cock out of his jock. "Suck me!" he hissed and pulled
Brian's head to his dick. Brian gasped and opened his mouth, willing himself
to take the hunk of meat shoved into him. He moaned loudly as he felt
Ciarans' thick round corona opening the tight sphincter in his throat.

Ciaran grabbed Brian's head and once more impaled his father on his staff,
no preamble, forcing Brian to swallow the thickly veined eight-inch rod.
When Brian's lips touched Ciaran's belly, C flexed his pelvis rhythmically.
He felt Brian's struggle, knew that he couldn't breathe, and kept track of
the time passing before he let his father off for breath. "That's the way,
father, breathe now," he encouraged Brian, noting the tears streaming
already, the snot. He held Brian's head, his fingers locked in the curly
hair, tilting Brian's head to look at him. Brian gasped and Ciaran smiled,
swept up in feeling of control. Brian's moan fueled his son's heat. Ciaran
said, "Good father, now, AGAIN! And keep your hands behind your back,
father. I don't want my slacks to get soiled with your spit and snot!"

Brian opened his mouth as his son's hands shoved him back onto the phallus,
purple, flared, hungry for his service. Brian closed his eyes and envisioned
himself as a grateful receptacle for his son's gift. He wanted to hold
Ciaran's legs to steady himself, and fought the desire to do so. He worked
C's cock, taking it all the way down until Ciaran pulled back and buried
Brian's face in his ball sac. Brian licked his son's low full nuts with long
broad strokes, then began sucking one, nursing it, trying to get both in his
mouth at one, but failing. He sucked and licked the other.

Ciaran stepped away leaving Brian panting and nearly tumbling forward. "Good
little whore boy, father. An admirable job," Ciaran sneered. "Stand now, and
undress me."

Brian stood and Ciaran said, "Wait." Brian stood with his arms crossed
behind him and waited. Ciaran stepped into the bathroom and came out a few
seconds later with a damp face cloth. He wiped Brian's face and said,
softer, "Better. Good work, father. Thank you. Now, continue, please."

Brian smiled and said a soft thank you. He knelt to take off his son's
shoes. "Kiss my feet." Brian bent to kiss and lick the tops of Ciaran's
strong, highly arched feet. Then he reached up to unbuckle the belt, rose
and slipped the skin tight t-shirt over his boy's head, folded the shirt and
added it to the pile on the tallboy. "My chest," came the next directive.

Brian licked the chisled pecs, sucked each good-sized nipple, then traced
his tongue down to the top of the washboard. He began to lick further and
Ciaran pulled his head off and kissed him again.

"Pants."

Brian's eyes were unfocused as he slid C's trousers off, folded and put them
away. Brian awaited further instruction. Ciaran made no move, nor did his
father. They stood looking in to one another's eyes. The gaze continued,
unblinking.

"Finish."

Still holding Ciaran's gaze, Brian slipped his hands down Ciaran's sides and
slid the jock over his son's hips before kneeling to have Ciaran step out.
Brian stayed on his knees with his face at Ciaran's uncoiled thick snake.
Brian crossed his arms behind him, the proper supplicant, and laid his face
into his son's throbbing endowment, breathing him in.

"Good boy, father," Ciaran said as he wrapped his hands again

Brian opened himself to understanding, willing himself to know what his son
wanted of him. With a sudden sense of sureness, he picked up the belt from
the floor, handed it to his son, then went to the overnight bag he brought
in, extracted lube, laid the lube on the bed, and knelt on the covered bench
that was at the end of the bed, laying himself out with his ass in the air.
Brian thought to himself, "Whoever made this bench must have had just this
activity in mind. It's the perfect height for fucking and all manner of
other activities."

The first blow caught Brian absolutely by surprise, and he yelped in pain.
Ciaran gave him no recovery time and set up a blistering pace of lashes,
switching sides, staying on the meaty areas of Brian's ass and thighs. Brian
held his head, pulled his hair, screamed into the bed, taking in the burning
pain of his backside, pulling the pain into his psyche, a meeting of
something longed for yet never received. Until now. Now as he felt Ciaran's
strength channeled through the leather, felt his lust and command and steely
determination. And then, Brian felt...apart...no longer pain, no longer time, no
longer Earth...

Some other ... Place? Time? Endorphin-fueled difference. He still felt the
blows, but pain disappeared, and there was only something new, a
non-chemical wild euphoria, desire sated, need met, soaring wild power.
Seconds? Minutes? Years? No conception of time, only wild freedom.

How long he existed in that Otherness he couldn't say. As he flew, his son
continued the lashes, steady, even, grateful for the practice he'd done on
the pillows at home, grateful also for Skype and the Master's eyes and
lessons. Ciaran had been instructed to watch for a disconnect, a lack of
responses from his father. When he noted them, he listened to Brian's
breathing, felt his skin, determined that Brian was still apparently fine.
He hoped that he had managed to get his father off to that place he longed
to go.

At some point, Brian felt coolness, felt himself coming back into his body
again. He moaned, and, hearing his own voice, came back fully to the
present. Ciaran dripped cold water on his backside, then blew on the wet,
causing gooseflesh.

"Father, are you with me now?" the quiet query. "Please climb up on the bed
and lie on your belly for me." His son's soft voice with a hint of concern.
Brian did as instructed and Ciaran lay next to him, touching his face,
moving to hold him, pulling him on top of him, not wanting Brian's backside
to yet hit the bedspread.

"You went away, father. Ten minutes in, you left the building. I trust the
place to which you went was a good place?"

Still struggling to anchor himself back in the present, Brian said, "Kiss
me, please, son, I need to feel you."

Ciaran kissed his father's face, eyes, ran his now stubbly cheek all over
his dad's face before kissing his mouth gently at first, tasting blood where
Brian had bitten his lip. Brian reached inside Ciaran hungrily and C
responded then, kissing Brian with abandon. Each man felt the other's
response as cocks grew thick and stiff, balls aching for release.

"Father, I need to be inside of you. So damned badly. Are you ready to take
me?"

Brian nodded his head and smiled. "Good. I'd like for you to just sit up and
sit on my cock to start, father. I don't want you on your back yet and I
need to watch your face now. When you're ready, just sit up and sit on my
dick. But, first, drink."

Ciaran handed Brian a bottle of water. Brian drank, realizing he was truly
parched. He shared the last of the bottle with his son, as Ciaran slid his
hands down Brian's chest and began playing with his nipples. "I seem to
recall that this makes daddy feel very good," Ciaran teased as Brian began
to moan.

"Fuck, yea, son, very damned good. More..." As he replied, Brian sat up and
reached behind him to feel his son's rod, dripping with precum. Brian
flipped open the lube and shoved some into his ass crack and more on the
manmeat he would soon ride. He lifted himself up and positioned Ciaran's
cock at his hole, then let himself drop, in one fast motion. "AAAAAH!" he
yelled.

"Jesus, father!" Ciaran's eyes flew wide open. "Fuck, dad, are you TRYING to
hurt yourself?"

"Uh huh," was the answer as Brian began riding Ciaran's rod with
determination.

Ciaran let Brian ride, watching the ripples of Brian's belly as he gripped
Ciaran with inner muscles that felt to Brian's cock like hundreds of tiny
fingers pressing, holding him, all along the length of his shaft.

Brian's thighs flexed along with his belly, his jaw clenched, veins in his
forehead and neck protruding. "Damnit, you are sexy, dad. Ride my cock,
daddy, fuck yourself with that damned rod!"

Ciaran began stroking Brian as his father continued to ride him. "Keep doing
what you're doing. Ride me, pinch your nips!"

Brian complied as Ciaran tortured his phallus, playing with the
hypersensitive tip, using the precum to keep it lubed, tightening then
loosening his grip, bringing Brian to the edge.

"C! I'm gonna blow if you don't slow down!"

"NO! DO NOT CUM!" Ciaran YELLED at Brian. "I will TELL you when to cum. You
OBEY me!"

Brian groaned and closed his eyes, seeking refuge and balance inside
himself. "OPEN THOSE EYES! LOOK AT ME! YOU LOOK TO ME NOW!" Ciaran grabbed
Brian and smacked his face with his open palm.

Brian's eyes flew open to note the challenge and ire present in his gaze.
"Did you think that submission was all just easy, father?"

Brian sat still for a moment, looking into his son's fiercely firey eyes.
Ciaran held Brian's forearms in a death grip. Brian felt his son's steel and
heat and perhaps for the first time, really started to FEEL the power of
giving over. The skin on his face burned. His ass held Ciaran's phallus,
thick and throbbing in his insides. He felt himself as a human receptacle at
that moment. Each time Ciaran physically hurt him, he felt a wave of heat,
need, desire -- to be hurt more, more deeply.

Feeling tears rising up, his voice ragged, he croaked, "Please, son, hurt
me. More. I need -- PLEASE."

Ciaran kept bringing himself almost to the edge and then backing off. He
fucked his father, imagining the purchases that would soon be delivered to
their home, small devices and large built to enhance Brian's pleasure and
his own...with a particular eye toward intense sensation. Finally, Ciaran
said, "Roll off and get on your knees, little slut."

Brian did as his son asked, on his knees, ass up on the bed. He felt the
heat emanating from his welted ass and thighs.

Ciaran opened a different tube of lube and said, "Pursuant to your desire
for additional pain, father..." Brian felt the drip, drip, drip of the lube
running down his cheeks and right inside his anus. Ciaran rubbed his cock
knowing that soon, they both would feel the intense bite of the
cinnamon-spiked lube, hoping he'd managed to get the right mix of zing. He
wanted Brian just on the other side of tolerance, and was excited to feel
the burn himself.

He slid inside Brian and felt a little heat. He began long-stroking, eager
to push his father over many edges.

Brian first felt filled. Deeply filled. Then...soon, his insides were hot, on
fire, BURNING. Ciaran's cock hit Brian's prostate with every stroke, and the
cinnamon oil did its number. Ciaran lubed his hands and slapped Brian's ass
as he fucked. Was it pain? The fire that could not be quenched? Brian began
yelling, gargling, monosyllabic grunts, pleas. He lay flat and Ciaran bred
his father, increasing the friction as he moved Brian's legs together and
buried himself inside Brian's firey hole. With every muscle put to the task
of fucking his father as hard as he possibly could, Ciaran felt engulfed by
flames as well.

C's balls, his thighs, everything the lube touched, were heated, which
maddened his lust-filled mind and body to a degree he'd never experienced.
Brian's orgasm came in a rush, ripping its way out of his body. As he
clenched his muscles in reaction, Ciaran ground down and jackhammered his
cum into his father. "HOLY FUCK!" Ciaran cried as his cock spewed jizz into
the lava bed that was Brian's anus.

Aftershocks ripped through each of the Byrne men's bodies as Ciaran lay atop
of Brian. The burn continued and Ciaran wanted to ride it out, right where
he was. Brian mumbled, "Oh fuck, oh Jesus, oh son, Ciaran, so good, fuck, so
FUCKING GOOD, it hurts, so good, I can't believe it..."

Slowly, the burn lessened. Heartbeats slowed. The need to look into his
father's eyes had Ciaran slide off to engulf Brian in a bear hug. Hands came
to faces, each man looking for reassurance, loathe to admit his need to seek
it.

"Good for you, dad, truly?"

Brian gave a lopsided smile and said, "You just lit me on fire and gave me
the best fuck and most incredible pain I could imagine, son. I've longed all
my life for such things. And, to have them delivered by YOU? *Good *is a
perfidious understatement. Mind blowing, life changing, FUCKING OUTRAGEOUSLY
FABULOUS, now you're in the ballpark."

"I am glad," Ciaran replied simply.

It was then that Brian realized Ciaran was growing to the role of dominant,
that his son was on a path that seemed to be genuinely a fit for him.

"I am grateful, son, and I would be remiss to not note this. The
role-definition is real, isn't it? I mean, it's not just hypothetical now. I
can feel it, feel a difference. I need for us to be able to have an exit if
we need to do so, okay?"

Ciaran smiled softly at his father and nodded. "We will know if it doesn't
work, I suspect. Agreed. I love you, dad, and I really loved topping you. I
have some plans...but right now, I could really stand a shower and some sack
time with my daddy. Sound good, stud?"

Brian stretched and felt the burn inside and out. "Yea, a shower and maybe
some aloe and the sack with my amazing son, I could handle that. I love you,
too."