Date: Tue, 15 Jan 2019 15:29:28 -0500 From: RJ Subject: Closer than Ever Chapter 2 Closer than Ever by RJ This story is about the love been a father and his son and contains sexual activity between the two of them. If such themes 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. As always, please support Nifty in any way you can. ~ Chapter 2 (Dad's POV) ~ I feel a little groggy when I wake up, but that's normal. Maybe I'm just aging too fast. I'm forty, but considering my occupation, I feel like I'm pushing seventy when I wake up every morning. Muscles are sore, bones are achy. I should've been a massage therapist. Or a teacher. Would have been much easier on the body. I sit up with a grunt, running my hand over my face before letting my eyes adjust to the sunlight. I look to my right. Wasn't Jo in bed with me last night? I could have sworn he came into my room in the middle of the night. Something about a nightmare. I check my watch and see that it's relatively early. Only 8am. I suppose he could be up already. I pull myself out of bed and throw on some sweatpants and a loose shirt, both of which I find on the floor. Mental note: do you fucking laundry. I shuffle out of the room still in that half-asleep stupor. Coffee. I need coffee. I yawn a bit, running my fingers through my hair as I head down the hallway into the main area. Once the dining table comes into view, I notice that Jonah is seated, chewing on some toast while typing away on his phone. I smile. "Hey, buddy." His eyes flicker up at me before going back to his phone. "Hi, Dad." I walk right up to the coffee machine. "Nightmare last night?" I ask him. "Huh?" "You were in my bed, right?" I turn to him. "I vaguely remember." He blushes for some reason but nods. "Uh. Yeah. Nightmare. Paralysis. Whole nine yards." I frown slightly. Maybe he's just embarrassed about the fact that he still has nightmares. Because that's definitely his "I'm embarrassed" face. I know it well. "Sorry, bud," I say. Poor kid. He's been plagued with nightmares and sleep paralysis since he was little. They're infrequent enough to not cause too much concern -- especially since the dreams themselves are not necessarily an indicator of some underlying condition. But it's still hard to see. Me? I used to get intense, almost debilitating nightmares too. The only solution for me is a solid drink (or two) before bed. Sounds crazy, like the ramblings of an alcoholic, but it does the trick. Just a few to get me into that headspace, and bam! No dreams. But I can't very well suggest that to Jo. I always thought he'd sleep well with a pet -- maybe a cat, or a medium-sized dog. Something alive to keep him company. But of course, he's allergic. Plus, I don't mind when he sleeps with me. Lisa is absolutely, 100% correct when she says he's way too old to be sleeping with his parents, but I can't say no to him. "How'd your date go?" Jo asks me suddenly. "My date?" I think back on last night. We walked to the bar together. Shared a few drinks. Had some good conversation. And we ended up back here. Granted, I had completely forgotten that Jonah was sleeping over, but I brought Oscar into my bedroom, figuring we could be relatively quiet. Things went slow. We talked a little more. Then he started kissing me. Then I started kissing back. A touch here, a touch there. But, it didn't feel right. It wasn't nerves. Frankly, I wasn't nervous in the slightest. And I don't think it was because Jo was in the other room, either. Maybe I'm just a romantic. Even though Oscar is attractive, and we had a nice time, nothing really clicked for me last night. Something was missing between us. So I ended up sending him home before we got too far. "It was okay," I tell Jo, shrugging. He seems disappointed. "Just okay?" "Yeah," I say, busying myself with the coffee machine. "Just didn't feel right, y'know?" "Aw," I hear him say. "Sorry." "It's fine. I don't think I was really ready anyway," I say, mostly to myself. Is it a matter of being ready? I'm not sure. I think I'm just waiting for a specific type of person to come my way. There has to be that spark. Plus, if I'm now diving into relationships with men for the first time, it has to feel right from the get-go. I'm too old to be wasting even more time than I already have. "Hey, you hungry?" I ask, watching the coffee drip into the mug. When I don't get a response, I turn to Jonah, but he's just staring at me. My hip, maybe. Is something on my leg? I look down and cock my hip a bit to see, but there's nothing. "Yo. Earth to Jo." I snap my fingers. He blinks and looks up at me, and then starts blushing again. "Huh?" "Do you want an actual breakfast?" I ask, squinting slightly. Since when does he blush so often at nothing? And why is he acting weird? Something's off with him, that much is obvious. "Oh," he says. "Um. Not really." "Okay," I say skeptically. It's probably nothing. He's a teenager after all, and if I remember correctly, the teen years are trying times. Expect the unexpected or whatever. I fix myself a bowl of cereal, and once my coffee is done, I bring everything to the table and sit across from Jo. We make small talk, but he seems very attached to his phone, which strikes me as odd because he's never been the kid who's always on his phone. In fact, when we're together, I rarely even see it out. Maybe he's talking to someone? Is that what all the blushing is about? I smirk slightly. That's gotta be it. "You talking to anyone?" I ask after a bit of silence. He glances up. "Talking?" "Yeah, like... taaalking," I say, drawing out the word. "Texting. Seeing. Dating. Hooking up with. Whatever you kids call it now." He snorts a little. No redness in his cheeks now. "No," he says. I'm not buying it, though. "Oh, come on. You can tell me," I say. "Is it Amanda? I bet it's Amanda." Just last year both Lisa and I speculated whether or not he and his friend Amanda were "a thing." They hung out together an awful lot. She was constantly over the house. I didn't mind, though. She was a sweet girl. But he looks at me as if I'm crazy. "We're just friends, Dad." I shrug. "I always thought you'd be a good match," I say earnestly. Maybe just because I want my boy to be with someone nice like her. "What happened to her anyway? You used to bring her to the house all the time." Back when I lived at home, that is. "That was before I realized that all my female friends are in love with you." I nearly choke on my coffee. I clear my throat a bit. "Come again?" He laughs slightly. "Don't tell me you're interested." "Shut up," I say, and he laughs again. "Is that really the reason?" "I'm totally serious," Jo says. "Amanda specifically thinks you're the hottest thing since Pompeii or something. Always refers to you as 'Daddy Henderson' when she asks about you." I can't help but laugh. It's silly (and maybe a little inappropriate) to put stock into what a teenager thinks of me, but it still feels nice to know that I still got it. "Well once you tell Amanda your dad's gay, maybe she'll focus on you," I tease. He shakes his head. "She only likes older guys." Figures. "That's a dangerous game she's playing," I say, finally digging into my cereal. "It's the daddy thing," he says, rolling his eyes. "It's like a craze. Every girl I know is into it." I laugh. Calling someone "daddy" is hardly new. "Hate to break it to you, bud, but that's been around forever," I tell him. "Daddy issues are practically a rite of passage." "So I'm not a man until you fuck me up, then?" he asks. "More or less," I say, and he laughs, shaking his head as he scrolls through something on his phone. I smile at him. Sometimes I find myself staring at him in amazement. It's still strange to think "That's my son. I raised this kid." And what a fine boy he's grown up to be. Frankly, he's always been a good kid, but he still manages to find ways to impress me, whether it be via his creativity, compassion, intelligence, morals... I'm infinitely lucky. "Y'know," I start to say, setting my coffee down, "I'm glad we get along." Jo glances at me for a moment before setting his phone on the table. There we go. Now he's giving me his full attention. "Are you about to get cushy on me?" I laugh. "No." Although part of me wants to. I never was close to my dad. At all, really. So I guess I'm always nervous that Jo will wake up one day and realize he doesn't need me. After all, that's what happened to me. "I love you too, Dad," he says with a smile, which makes my heart swell. "Everything's okay with you, right?" He raises his eyebrows. "Uh. Yeah. Why?" "I don't know. You just seemed off this morning." There it is again. The blushing. It's not as intense as before but it's very apparent. "Sorry." "No, it's okay," I assure him. "I just want to make sure you're good." He bites his lip, clearly thinking hard about something. Then he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah. I mean, I kind of want to talk to you about something..." he says. My eyebrows raise, intrigued. "But not yet." "That's fine," I say, though I'm incredibly curious to know what it's about. He has said himself that he pretty much tells me everything. And I believe him, considering the personal nature of many of our conversations. Maybe whatever this is about is a smidge too personal. "Just want to work through it on my own first." "Again, totally fine," I tell him, smiling. I respect that. "Whenever you're ready." The next few times I see him, he seems back to his normal self. No blushing. No focusing on his phone. And because I don't bring it up, after a while, I forget about it. Things remain normal. We both make sure that we see each other at least a couple times a week, whether it's for a meal, or an evening, or him sleeping over my place. Lisa has even started inviting me over for dinner every so often. Things between us are still a bit awkward to say the least, but she's clearly trying her best to understand me, and that's all I can ask for her. And I'm thankful for it. It allows more time with my boy. Throughout the next month or so, I go out on a couple dates. One with another doctor (who turns out to be incredibly dull) and one with a boxer (who's aggressively, untastefully sexual). Going out with them made me remember everything I hate about dating: the lack of sureness, the small talk, the awkwardness when the connection just isn't there, the fact that I'm spending money on something that won't even get me laid... I hate dating. But then, one night, I go to a poetry café in town. It's absolutely not my scene; I only came out to support a buddy of mine. I've been pestering him for years to start sharing his material, and he's finally decided to. One of his New Year's Resolutions, I suppose. He texts me that he's running late but he promises he'll show up. Doubtful, I step into the small space. It's dimly lit. Only the stage has a bright spotlight. I'm happy that I'm not super exposed as I walk in, but I immediately feel like I don't belong. It seems the vast majority of the attendees are college kids. Not exactly my age group. "Don't look so out of place," someone says. I turn towards the voice. There's a man sitting on a high stool right near the entrance I'm so casually blocking. I smile slightly. He looks a little older. Maybe in his 30s. "This usually isn't my gig." "No?" "Not one for poetry, I'm afraid," I say. "And yet... you came to a poetry café?" He smirks slightly. "Interesting." I laugh. "I'm here to support a friend." "Well in that case, take a seat," he says, offering the chair next to him. I accept the offer, taking a seat next to him with a sigh before I offer my hand. "Thank you...?" He grins at me. "Max," he says, taking my hand. Max. He's quite handsome, now that I can see him up close. His glasses are a little nerdy, even for my taste, but he's good-looking. Dirty blond hair, light scruff, soft build. Even though he's sitting down, he looks tall. Probably my height. "Mark," I tell him, giving his hand a firm shake. I notice his eyes flicker to our hands together before they separate. "I take it you're a lover of poetry," I say, leaning against the table. When he notices that I'm continuing conversation, he turns more towards me. "Might even be a writer." "Oh ho," I say with a little laugh. "Am I gonna hear something of yours tonight, or...?" "Lucky for you, my name's on the list." "Lucky for you that I'm here then," I say with a slight grin. "You get an outsider's opinion." He laughs a little. "Don't judge me too harshly." We talk a little before the show starts, but not really about anything. All I know is that I like Max, right off the bat. He's giving me the right impression. I try to subtly hint at what I want to know (is he gay, and do I have a shot) but I can't quite figure out his deal. Once the host walks across the stage and starts announcing what's to come, I check my phone. Sure enough, my friend bailed. "Nerves," he says. I just roll my eyes. What a pussy. Immediately, I want to leave, but it's tempting to stay. Only because adorably handsome Max is here. Turns out, I still hate poetry. Everyone who goes up is either uncomfortably awkward or has an arrogant and pretentious air about them. There are far too many stuck-up wannabe artists here. But then, Max's name is called. "Better be good," I tease, nudging him with my wrist as he stands up. He laughs. "Now you're making me nervous." He pulls out his phone from his pocket, opening the camera. "Can you do me a favor and record it for me?" "Yeah, of course," I say, surprised he's trusting me with his phone. I take it and he smiles, quickly heading up to the stage. I center the camera and press record once he gets up to the mic. "This one," Max says, "is for a beautiful man I met twenty minutes ago." There are a number of whoops and wolf-whistles, followed by a few laughs. Twenty minutes ago? Who else could he be talking about besides me? Before I can think about it more, he starts speaking. I don't know if it's the fact that I have to record him that's making me focus so intensely, but I find myself drawn in by his words. They flow nicely with his calm voice, and he uses language simple enough for a commoner like me to pick up on while also adding almost revelatory metaphors into the mix. It's almost stirring. Sensual, even. I swear he gets the loudest clap thus far when he's finished, and I find myself smiling widely as he takes himself off stage and comes back to me. I hand him his phone once he sits, noticing his cheeks are a little red. Much like Jo's. "Well?" he asks. "Outsider's opinion: What'd you think?" I decide to be a little daring. After his little poem stunt, I feel like I know where his head's at. "That was a little sexy, not gonna lie," I say. He laughs hard, readjusting his glasses. "I'm glad you liked it." "Is it totally conceited of me to think it was about me?" I ask, arching my eyebrow. "Completely," he says with a serious nod. "But you're right." "Thought so," I say with a chuckle. "Once you said 'beautiful man', I knew," I tease. He seems to get a kick out that and keeps laughing. "It really was great, though," I tell him. "I was impressed. And surprised at how much I liked it." "It's all about delivery," he says. "And just being in the moment. Letting the words come to you." I squint slightly. The delivery part made sense, but 'letting the words come to you'? Then it clicks. "Don't tell me that was... freestyle or whatever," I say, pointing towards the stage. He smiles a little, looking amused. "Yup," he says, nodding. "Made it all up as I went along." I stare at him for a moment. "Well now I'm REALLY impressed." He chuckles shyly. "I have a feeling it doesn't take much to impress you," he says, trying to make light of his talent. I grin. "Quite the opposite, actually." The next thing I know, we're at his place making out like there's a time constraint. Or it's a race to get each other's clothes off. The sex is electric. Heated. Easy. Being inside him feels like exactly what I've been missing my whole life. It just feels right. Max seems to feel it too. We end up seeing more and more of each other as weeks go by, to the point where I feel like things are getting more serious between us. Turns out we're on the same page. After a particularly passionate round of sex, we lie in his bed until we catch our breath, both of us naked and on our backs. I hear him shift and turn on his side, facing me. "Hey." I turn my head towards him, smiling. He looks so different without his glasses on. "Hey." "I like you," he says, biting his lip the same way Jo does. "A lot. So much, in fact, that I'm entertaining the idea of introducing you to my family." I smile a little wider, showing teeth. "I like you too, Maxwell," I say, teasing him with his full name. He just hits me playfully, and I laugh, taking his hand. I stroke his knuckles with my thumb. "I'd love to meet your family." I bring his fist up to my lips and kiss it before I sigh. "But, there's something you should know about me before we... you know... keep this going." He seems all ears. "Okay." I clear my throat a bit, looking at anywhere but his eyes. "I, uh... I was married. Up until a few months ago." He raises his eyebrows. "Are you about to hit me with the 'I'm still healing' spiel or--" "No no no," I say with a laugh, shifting to my side to face him. "I just... I was married to a woman, for a long time, and... Well, we have a son. I have a son." I expect him to be fazed by this information, but he just smiles. "Really?" "Yeah. Does that bother you?" "Not at all," he says, sliding a little closer. "What's his name?" "Jonah," I say with a smile, feeling relieved. "He's sixteen." "That's a nice name," Max says, reaching out to stroke my jaw. "I bet you're a good dad." "I like to think so," I say, kissing his finger. "Are you guys close?" "Very," I say. "He's basically the love of my life." "Now you're just trying to make me jealous," he says with a grin, and we both laugh. "Can I meet him?" I grin. "Yeah, of course. He'd love that." I laugh slightly. Jo's gonna freak out when I tell him about Max. When Max gets up to use the bathroom, I take a moment to reach out to Jo. I haven't told him about any of my dates since the first one. I didn't want to put stock into something that might not even be real, but I've gotten to that point with Max. Time to break the news. I shoot Jo a quick text: "I have someone I want you to meet." Immediately, he hits me with three rapid-fire messages: "WHAT!!" "Who is he??" "Can I meet him??" I laugh, shaking my head. I like that he knew immediately what I'm talking about. "His name is Max. He wants to meet you too." "Awww M&M" he says and I roll my eyes. I hope that doesn't catch on. "When are you gonna introduce me?" "We still on for tomorrow?" I ask in response. The plan was for him to sleep over. Once he confirms that he's good for tomorrow, I tell him I'll have Max come over as well. I smile at the thought. This will be strange, introducing my son to my... what, my boyfriend? Guess that's where we are now. Even the boyfriend thing is odd to me. But this is good. I'm at a good place in my life. Since Jonah has a ride, Max and I get dinner before we go back to my place. Max gets a little nervous as we finish up dinner, waiting for the check. "Should I be nervous?" he asks. "Not at all," I tell him. "He's easy-going. And he likes poetry and shit so you two can bond over that," I add with a grin. Max hits me with a playful glare but he understands. I'm not worried at all. Both of these guys don't have personalities that would be at odds with each other. It'll be fine. We're not too far from my apartment, so we enjoy the walk back, arms linked. We head upstairs and I let us both in before I lock up behind me. "Jo?" I call out. I hear footsteps coming towards us, and when he rounds the corner, he smiles at the sight of us. "Hey," I say, smiling back. "Hey, Pop," he says with a laugh, wiping his hands on his pants. He must have just washed them or something. "Jo, this is Max," I say, putting my hand on Max's back. "He's a poet," I add, thinking that'll break the ice. Jo immediately looks confused. "Since when are you into poetry?" I falter a bit. "Jo!" "Sorry, sorry," he says, holding his hands up. "I didn't mean it like that, I just... Anyway. Hi." He laughs and shakes Max's hand. Max doesn't seem bothered by the comment. "To be fair, he still kinda hates poetry," Max assures Jo, which makes Jo laugh. "Well at least we'll get along," Jo says with a smile. I'm amazed at how quickly they hit it off. As we retire to the living room, it's good to see all Max's nerves disappear once he realizes how down-to-earth and relaxed my son is. Plus, he seems to enjoy all the stories Jo has about me. Jo relishes in telling some of the embarrassing ones (i.e., when I was outside, naked, sleepwalking in the driveway in the middle of the night long enough for the police to be contacted) but he balances it out with plenty of good things: how hard I work at my job, how I always do the little things like go to all of his music recitals, how I'm "moderately funny." Soon Jo's phone starts ringing. He leans over to snatch it off of the coffee table and glances at the screen. "Huh. It's Brett." He looks at me. "He never calls me." "Go ahead and take it," I tell him, and he nods, heading into the kitchen to answer the call. When he's out of earshot, Max looks at me. "Brett his boyfriend?" he asks me. "What?" I laugh. "No. No, Jo is straight," I say. "I think." Max chuckles, putting his hand on my thigh. "You think?" I just shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I guess I just assumed." And it's a fair assumption. He has only ever talked about girls. "Is that bad of me?" "Only slightly," Max jokes with a smile, leaning in to kiss me quickly. "He seems like a good kid. Kind, like his father. Smart, like his father. And handsome, like his father," he adds, giving my thigh a little squeeze. I just laugh. Jo has his mother's softer features, full lips, and slightly rounder face. Our eyes are the same Irish-green though. And the toothy, almost off-center smile? Dead-on. And I'm happy I passed down my hair to him. He keeps good care of that short, brunette silk on his head. He got his perfect skin from his mother, that's for sure. What else did he get from me? Maybe his dick? I wonder. ...What the fuck? Why am I thinking about Jonah's dick? "He's got you pegged, too," Max says, thankfully breaking my train of thought. I smile. "Well, he arguably knows me better than anyone." "I think it's sweet." "So you're not still jealous?" I ask playfully. "Well, I mean, there are some things he doesn't know," he says with a leer, his hand sliding right up to my crotch. I grunt slightly, biting my lip before I laugh a bit, feeling him gently massage my groin. "Do you mind?" I ask. "No," he says, smiling still. He's clearly trying to make me hard. And he's succeeding. I have to grab his wrist and pull his hand away just as Jo comes back into the room. I shift in my seat uncomfortably as Jo sits back on the loveseat adjacent to the couch, trying to ignore the fact that I'm now horny. Thanks, Max. We don't talk for too much longer. The three of us end up putting on a random movie from Netflix and lounging out. I'm not particularly interested in the film, and Jo doesn't seem to be either because halfway through, he's asleep. I check to make sure before turning my head towards Max. "You into this film?" I ask. He shrugs. "It's not bad," he says with a laugh. "Wanna come to bed with me instead?" He doesn't look that interested until he sees the grin on my face. He knows exactly what that means. He smiles. "Y-yeah." I let him go ahead of me while I take care of Jo. He was sitting alone on the loveseat, and I don't want him to be uncomfortable when he wakes up, so I scoop my arms under him and lift him up. Damn, this kid is fucking heavy now. Thank God I still work out. I move him onto the couch and lay him down as gently as possible. He doesn't wake up as I throw a blanket over him, tuck him in a bit, and kiss his cheek. I smile slightly. He's always looked so peaceful when he sleeps. I comb my fingers through his hair gently, hoping he has good dreams tonight. Now, Max. I smirk and make my way down the hallway towards my bedroom. I rub my hands together, licking my lips. "You ready for m-- Well, hello," I say with a slight laugh, stopping in the doorway. Max is already naked and sprawled out on my bed, waiting for me. He turns his face towards me, smiling. "Figured you'd wanna get to it." "You figured correctly," I say with a chuckle, shutting my door and then taking my shirt off quickly. I remove my pants, socks, and underwear before coming over to the bed, crawling over Max, and kissing him. He wraps his arms around me and hums against my lips, pulling my body into his. We share our warmth as I wrap my arms around him as well, kissing deeply. I notice his legs spreading a bit to let me get in between, but then he pauses. "Wait," he says, licking his lips. "What?" "We should record it this time..." I roll my eyes. "Not this again," I say, laughing. He's brought it up once before, and I turned down the idea. "C'mon. It'd be hot," he says, running his fingers between my pecs. "Would it?" I say skeptically. We're not pornstars. Who knows what we look like when we're going at it. "I don't wanna post it anywhere," he clarifies, even though that's not a worry of mine. "You can keep the video if you want. I just wanna watch it once." He can tell by my expression that I'm still not super into the idea. "I'll buy you dinner at Le Gavroche." Free expensive (but authentic) French food? Now I'm listening. "What about wine?" "A full bottle." "Appetizers?" "As many as you want." "Dessert?" He laughs. "You can have one," he says, holding up a single finger. I smile slightly before sighing through my nose. "Fine," I say, pushing myself off of him and heading towards my desk. "Better be damn good food," I add as I pull up the webcam. "Or at least worth the embarrassment this is going to cause." "I don't think you understand how sexy you are, Mark," I hear Max say. "Yeah yeah," I say with a slight grin, angling the camera towards the bed to get a full view of it. Then, I press record. "Alright," I say, standing up and rubbing my hands together. "Let the sex tape commence." Max just laughs as I crawl back into bed before I start kissing him. I straddle him, my hands on either side of his head as we kiss deeply and purposefully. I feel his hands sliding over my sides as me hums lightly against my lips. That's one of my favorite things about Max. He's a moaner. I sit up on top of him and he licks his lips, sliding his hands over my thighs. He runs his palms up and down the inside of my thighs a few times before his fingers find my cock and wrap around it. I bite my lip when he grips me and jerks me off slowly, bringing me gradually to hardness. With his other hand, he fondles my balls, his eyes totally focused on my groin. I feel his grip tighten as his thumb brushes just under the slit, and I moan softly as he squeezes a drop of precum out. It slides onto his thumb and he brings it to his mouth, looking up at me as he sucks it off. Then he hits me with that adorable smile of his, as if he's innocent. I shimmy forward so that I'm straddling his chest and my cock is close to his face. He still has his hand wrapped around me, so he slaps it against his face a few times before sliding it across his lips, parting them, and then guiding it right into his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact. I groan softly as I enjoy the moist warmth of his mouth. He sucks softly on the head, teasing the very tip with his tongue as I rest one hand against the headboard behind him. With my other hand, I cup the back of his head. I hold him up slightly so that I can slide deeper into his mouth, and he takes me eagerly. He closes his eyes as my cock hits the back of his throat, focusing. He gags and coughs a little, but I say "Shhh" soothingly, rubbing the back of his head as I sink even further. I start working back and forth, giving him time to breathe but also making sure his throat gets plenty of cock. I slowly pull my dick away from his lips, and he moans and gasps for a little bit of air before gripping my member again. This time, he lifts it up and kisses his way down to my balls. I let out another louder moan, feeling his tongue lap eagerly at my full nuts. His tongue darts behind my sack and even slides across my taint, which gives me chills and makes me slide forward even more. It must have been his intention because when I slide forward, he slides down a bit more to get under me. His hands wrap behind my thighs and pull me down onto his face, and I let out a laugh-filled moan as he starts to rim me. This is still such a new feeling to me. I only let him do this for the first time a few days ago, and I've been hooked ever since. It's this strange tickling sensation mixed with this resolute pleasure that sends warmth throughout my whole body. I won't admit it to him, but I almost like it more than a blowjob. I grind against him a bit, reaching down and stroking my cock. When I look down, all I can see are his eyebrows and his forehead and his glasses askew. I smirk a bit. I reach lower and run my fingers through his hair, coaxing him to work his tongue a little faster. He does so with vigor, and I watch as my cock drips precum onto his forehead. Soon he needs a proper breather, so I pull off of him and slide down his body. I lift his chin up with my knuckles and kiss him tongue-first, and we share a lewd, intimate kiss as I readjust my body on top of his. He spreads his legs a bit and lets me get in between them before wrapping his limbs around my hips. And then, he starts rutting into me. It's subtle at first, but he becomes more insistent after a minute, and I smile hard against his lips. "Are you trying to tell me something?" I ask, breaking the kiss. He laughs, his face red. "Subconsciously." He runs his hands over my shoulders and chest before speaking again. "Get the lube and the condoms." I raise an eyebrow. "You don't want me to...?" Instead of saying it, I wiggle my tongue around suggestively, making us both laugh. "I mean, I do," he says, pulling me down for a quick kiss. "But I need you to fuck the hell out of me." I grin against his lips. "Duly noted." I peck his lips again before pulling away from him. I have to slide off of him a bit to reach into the nightstand and grab the lube and condoms, but once I do, I get back between his legs and sit on my heels. I set the lube down, tearing open a condom packet. Impatient as ever, Max grabs the lube himself, pouring some onto his fingers and reaching between his legs to rub his hole. I watch him push a finger into himself as I slide the clear condom around my dick, biting my lip. I jerk myself off slowly as I watch him finger himself. Now I'm eager. He pours a little more lube onto his fingers and I assume he's applying more to himself, but he reaches forward and grips my cock. I grunt a bit, watching him slowly stroke me to evenly coat the lube before gripping me more tightly and pulling me closer. I grab the back of his legs and push back on them to lift his ass up as he pulls me towards him. He rubs the head of my cock against his hole a few times before signaling for me to continue. I help him out, adding a little force of my own and pushing forward until we connect. I glance up at his face as I enter him. His eyes roll back and he starts moaning out like he usually does when I'm inside him. It's a more distinct moan than the noises he makes during foreplay. I grin, starting to pump my hips right from the get-go. Thankfully I reinforced this bed so that it doesn't shake and slam against the wall like Max's does at his apartment. So we can go hard without disruption. Max's face gets flushed when I fuck him, and tonight is no exception. His eyebrows are raised high and his mouth is shaped into the slightest, blissful smile as I thrust over and over. I keep a sure grip on his legs to keep them open, mostly so I can watch him properly. I like seeing the pleasure on his face, and the way his body moves, and the hand between his legs that's almost vigorously jerking himself off. Even the way his toes curl is hot to me. It all tells me how much he loves this. I close my eyes for a bit, just to focus on myself and the sensations I'm feeling. It's so strange how different Max feels from Lisa. Plus Max is just inherently more sexual than she ever was. It's like he's unlocked this reserve of libido in me. Now, in the grand scheme of things, I'm hornier than ever. And with good reason. This velvety grip on my cock is incredible. It makes me throb and ache even as I'm pounding him into the mattress. I pick up the speed a bit, huffing slightly. Every hard thrust I give him makes him bounce back into me, making our skin slap against each other's a little loudly. Max lets out a heavier, breathier moan that makes my eyes open. I look down just in time to hear the words "I'm gonna cum" get caught in his throat and come out in a broken whisper. I lick my lips and look down at his cock just as it spurts out that first rope of cream. I moan a bit, feeling him tighten around me as he empties his load onto his body. I slow up my speed but I increase my stride and keep the same amount of power. He likes it when I keep "using" him throughout his orgasm. It heightens his sensations. But I can't hold out for much longer. Making him cum always puts me right to the edge. I'm close too, now. "I'm gonna cum, too," I tell him, slowing down my speed a hair. At those words, he seems to get a burst of energy. He has me let go of his legs, and he slides off of my cock, quickly sitting up in front of me. In one smooth motion, he slides the condom off with one hand and grips me with the other. His ass is replaced with his mouth in a flash, and I groan deeply at the sudden shift in sensation. I hold the top of his head as I get closer and closer until finally, his tongue is rewarded. I tense, clenching my teeth and grunting as I start to pump his mouth full of my load. I feel my cock twitching as he sucks me off gently, swallowing my seed down eagerly and looking up at me with those boyish eyes of his. Fucking hell. I feel him lapping tenderly at the head, which just makes my entire groin surge a bit. I'm sure he's getting every last drop I can possibly give him. Then finally, he pulls away, lying back on his elbow but still holding onto my cock with a grin on his face. I smirk at him before I start laughing. "Damn," I say, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. Not too sweaty. But I'm tired. "You're an animal," he says with a little laugh, his fingers sliding down to give my balls a light squeeze. "You make good prey," I tease, and I smile and lean over to kiss him. He pulls me down onto the bed with him and we lie side by side, sharing a few more kisses before we realize how tired we both are. But that's what happens with us after some good sex. We chat a bit, but we become lazy. There's no intention for either of us to shower, or even think about doing our nightly routine. We just stay close and close our eyes, talking softly until one of us just stops responding, being pulled further and further into sleep. Soon, we're both out like a light. I wake up confused. The lights are still on, and I'm naked in bed with Max by my side. It takes me a moment to remember that we just collapsed after sex. But something woke me up. Did I have a nightmare? I rub my forehead slightly. I suppose it's possible since I didn't drink tonight, but not drinking doesn't necessarily guarantee I'll have bad dreams. I feel like I heard something. Then my ears tune in a bit more. I hear yelling. It's clear enough to sound like it's nearby. Coming from the adjacent apartment? No... The next room. I swear under my breath, sitting up as fast as I can. I quickly scan the floor and find my jeans before I can find my underwear. Whatever. I quickly pull them on, leaving them undone as I rush out of my bedroom and into the living room. Jo's having a night terror. I can tell as soon as I get to the couch, because his eyes are still closed as he cries and yells and squirms. I lift him up slightly for me to sit down before I hug him to me, whispering "Shhh, I'm here" as I stroke his hair. I sigh through my nose. There's not much else I can do besides hold him and ensure he stays safe. Night terrors are harder to deal with than nightmares. He's still fast asleep, trapped in some dream, and there's no way to really wake him up. He hasn't had one of these in a long time, from what I remember. At least he's not prone to hurting himself during them. Plus, he won't remember this when he wakes up. That's at least some solace. But it's still distressing as a parent to witness such a thing. I rub his torso lightly and give him as much affection and soothing touches as I can and just wait it out. That's all I can do. After several minutes, he finally starts to drift back to normal sleep. The squirming and the yelling stops, and he sighs softly before his breathing becomes regular. I let out a heavy sigh. Christ. This poor kid is really going through it. I feel like I've dealt with his nightmares every time he's stayed over... Basically since my separation with Lisa. Maybe that was a trigger. After all, he was pretty upset when it first happened. I make a mental note to reach out to Lisa, but then I notice my phone is in my pocket. I gently raise myself up since Jonah's head is in my lap and I fish for my phone. When I pull it out, I check the time. Just after 1am. I decide to send her a quick message: "Hey. Call me tomorrow. About Jo." I start to gently slide out from underneath my son, not wanting to wake him. I'm sure he'd have a tough time falling back asleep if I did. Once I manage to stand up, I spend a little time tucking him in but am interrupted by my phone buzzing. When the screen lights up, I'm surprised to see Lisa's name pop up. The hell is she doing up at this hour? I grab my phone and head into the kitchen to answer it. "Lisa?" "Hey," she says sleepily. "I just saw your text. Is he okay?" "Yeah, sorry," I say. "It's just a night terror. I'm surprised you're awake," I add. "Me too," she says with a slight laugh, leaving it at that. "Anyway, what's this about a night terror?" "Well, I just wanted to ask... Has Jo's been having night terrors at home?" "Like when he'd scream and everything, right?" she asks. "Yeah." "No. Nothing like that," she says. "And you know I'm a light sleeper." "Huh." It makes me think. How long has it been? And is something going on? Or is it nothing? "What?" "It's just that... Well. I don't know what it is. Every time he sleeps over he has a nightmare. And tonight it's worse." Ironically enough, after he met my boyfriend. Is it actually connected, or am I just hoping to find the answer to an answerless question? "I don't know what it is." "Do you think he's just not used to your apartment?" she asks. "Why wouldn't he be?" "I don't know. Remember how bad his nightmares were when we first moved?" I bite my lip, nodding to myself. She's right. Maybe it's an environmental thing. He had nightmares every night for weeks when we first moved, and a handful of night terrors. Maybe they're triggered by change. "Maybe that's it," I say. There's a pause on the line before she speaks up. "Should we take him to see someone?" "Like a sleep specialist?" "Or a therapist," she says. I almost want to come to Jo's defense, but it could be a possibility. The thing about dreams is that there's little science behind them. Maybe it is a mental thing that he could talk his way out of. Who knows. "I suppose." "Might be worth discussing. I can ask around. I know Isaac from church has sleep apnea or something. Which is not the same thing, but he had to do strange therapy for it." It's not at all the same thing, but maybe therapy catered to Jonah would be a good idea. "Yeah. We can discuss it," I tell her, glancing towards the couch. "Get some sleep. Sorry to trouble you." "Not your fault," she says with a yawn. "Are you coming by tomorrow?" "Just to drop him off. I can come in if you want." "Up to you." I sigh. She rarely makes it seem like she actually wants to see me, so I never know what to do. I don't exactly want to make her uncomfortable. "How about we meet up after you talk to Isaac?" "Sure." After we hang up, I check on Jo quickly before heading back to the kitchen. I run my fingers through my hair, feeling both exhausted and wired. This calls for a drink. I pour myself a solid glass of whiskey before heading to the bedroom, sipping as I go. When I get back into the room, I flick the lights off. That's when I notice that we left the webcam on. The computer screen is still on, softly illuminating the room. I head over to my desk and take a seat, stopping the recording and rolling my eyes at the fact that it recorded a couple hours of us just sleeping. But then I wonder how long we had sex for... I scroll through the video until it gets to the part right after Max sucked the cum out of me. I smirk slightly before checking the time. Just under a half an hour. The length of an episode of all those dumb sitcoms, usually. I guess it wouldn't be horrible watching ourselves go at it. I glance at the screen with the video paused. My body looks damn good, at least. But what about in motion? I bite my lip a bit and decide to check out our little sex tape a bit. I rewind to when we started fucking and then press play, keeping the volume very low. I can feel my eyebrows raising high and my forehead getting tight. I'm surprised at how good we look. I always figured it'd look awkward, so I'm shocked that we don't. Plus, to be fair, I should give myself some credit -- I'm doing the work, and I look like I'm good at my job. I guess Max was right. It is kind of sexy. On one hand, it's hot knowing that I can make sex look sexy. On the other hand, it's hot seeing Max from a different angle. I watch his hand move up and down on his cock and grin a bit. He always jerks off so fast. Then my eyes flicker to movement in the background. The door. I squint a bit. Did it just open? I rewind a bit to check, and sure enough, the door was fully closed at the beginning. I go back to the spot to check the exact moment when it slowly shifted open, and then my eyes focus on something else: the hand on the outside door knob. Someone deliberately opened the door, and only slightly. The hand disappears out of view, but I keep my eyes focused on the opening in case I see anything. I wait, my heart racing. And after half a minute, I see Jo's face peering through the opening. It's barely half of his face, and it's so grainy that it's completely indistinct, but it's obviously him. Who else would it be? I pause the video and lean back in my chair. Why was Jonah watching me and Max? ...And for how long? I press play again and slowly fast-forward through the video. Christ. He watched us all the way to the end. I can see his pale face peeking out of the darkness of the hallway before it disappears right after I cum. Fuck. That was at least ten minutes. He stood and watched me fucking Max for ten fucking minutes. I stare at the screen in confusion, unsure what to do. Unsure what to feel. I can't tell if I feel dirty, or exposed, or what. A minute, I'd understand. He's a kid witnessing sex. But ten? I wonder if he was... y'know... I shake my head to clear my thoughts. No. Forget it. I just shut my laptop without a second glance and sigh. Bed. I need to sleep. I take off my jeans and look around for my boxers in the dark. Once I put them on, I climb back into bed with Max and sigh. I have to adjust my cock a few times before I can get comfortable enough to fall asleep. I keep an eye on Jonah in the morning. Specifically, I'm more aware of how he looks at me and Max. He stares a little more, bordering on ogling, and if he notices me looking at him, he looks away quickly as if he knew he got caught. Does he know that I know he was watching me and Max last night? Probably not. I doubt he knew that we were recording ourselves. I spend the entire morning trying to think of how to approach this properly. I could let it slide and just forget about it. But I have to be the parent at some point. I have to address it. Plus, I can't really allow it to happen again in good conscience. After Max leaves, I drive Jo home. We talk a little bit in the car, but not about what I want to. I'm semi-planning that conversation out in my head the whole ride back to Lisa's, but I realize there's no real way to properly plan this talk. I have no idea how he'll respond. He could deny it. He could lie his way out of it. He could be completely embarrassed, or totally silent. It could go a lot of ways. It's just a matter of finding out which way it'll end up going. I pull into Lisa's driveway with my heart racing a bit, as it does whenever I have to confront my boy about something. As soon as I hit the brakes, Jo is eager to leave. "Bye, Dad," he says, pulling his seatbelt off and grabbing his bag. "Thanks for the ride." "Hold up," I say, cutting the engine and looking at him. He stops and looks at me with a confused expression. "I actually want to talk to you before you go." He slumps back in his seat, looking concerned. About what, though? "Okay..." It's probably best this way. Bringing it up here. That way, we can go our separate ways. If I had brought it up at my apartment, we'd have to suffer a whole car ride in awkward silence. "Did you...?" I smile slightly to myself, looking at my lap before I glance back at Jo. This is crazy. "Did you watch me and Max last night?" Specifically, were you jerking off watching us last night? He maintains his confused expression, but his face slowly starts to turn red. Gotcha. "W-what?" he asks, trying to let out a laugh, but it comes out nervous-sounding. "Did you watch me and Max have sex last night?" I ask bluntly. It's probably best to be forward right now. One of us has to be. "I..." He swallows thickly, not looking at my eyes. God, he looks so embarrassed. And ill. I feel so bad. "I'm not mad," I tell him. Honestly, I'm not. "I just want to know." He glances at me. He seems to relax seeing that I'm relatively calm about this, but his face is still beet fucking red. He just nods. "Sorry," he says in a quiet voice, looking at his lap. "It's okay," I say automatically, and then I close my eyes. "Well, no, it's not okay," I say with a sigh. "It's just... Well..." Jesus, why am I so bad at this sometimes? I clear my throat. "Listen. I understand the curiosity," I say, and he looks at me. "Trust me. But... You can't be a peeping Tom. It's an invasion of privacy." "I know," he says softly before sitting up straighter as if trying to make himself more comfortable. "I'm sorry. I was just..." But he trails off and doesn't finish his sentence. I bite my lip as I look at him for a long pause. What was he going to say? I decide to prod him a little bit. "Are you... curious?" I ask, hoping he understands what I mean. He doesn't look at me. "I don't know." He plays with his fingers a bit. "Maybe." Then, "Yeah." It'd be dishonest of me to say that, under normal circumstances, I would not be surprised by this information. I get it now, considering I caught him on camera looking at what was going on in my bedroom. But if he had told me yesterday, before we went to bed, I definitely would have been caught off-guard. Which is silly. For one, I'm gay. Plus, the teen years are chock full of self-questioning and exploration. This is totally normal. I wait for him to keep talking about it, but instead, he turns his head, looks at me, and asks a question. "You're really not mad?" I smile slightly. "No, buddy, I'm not mad," I say. I'm making him uncomfortable, I know that. It's a little surprising since we're both pretty open with each other, even when it comes to topics of sex and sexuality. Maybe he's just uncomfortable because of all people he could of seen, it was me. So I decide to let him go. Maybe he'll come to me when he's ready. "On another note," I say after a long silence, "your mom and I are thinking of taking you to a sleep specialist." He blinks, probably in surprise at the sudden shift in topic. "Really?" "Yeah. With all the nightmares lately, I'm thinking it's time to try something." I shrug. "If it helps, it helps." He nods a little, seemingly distracted. Understandable. He probably doesn't know what to think. Or say. It stays quiet between us. Damn it, Mark, let the boy be embarrassed on his own. "Well, I'll let you go," I say. He glances at me again before nodding a bit and then reaching for the door handle. He seems to hesitate before gripping it and swinging it open. He grabs his stuff and then nods at me without another word, pushing the door closed and then heading up towards the house. I close my eyes and sigh. I guess that didn't go horribly. It could have gone better, but I was of course hoping for more of a conversation. He seemed more concerned about me being upset with him than anything else. Although I did get some insight: he's at that curious stage of his life. I was hoping he'd be more open about it to me, of all people, considering my own newfound sexuality. But this is his life. And he knows he can come to me if he needs me. I open my eyes when I hear a knock on the door. I'm surprised to see Jonah looking at me through the driver's side window, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, he opens my door. He steps forward and reaches inside to hug me, pressing his face against my chest. I'm surprised, but my arms automatically swing around him and hug him tight. I smile softly, looking down and kissing the top of his head as I give him a little squeeze, which only makes him wrap his arms around me more tightly. We don't say anything, but that hug tells me all I need to know.