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Daddy's Little Man (FDM + Sparru)

F

Flaming Dead Man

Planetoid
Joined
Jun 29, 2011
Location
In a hole, deep beneath the earth's crust.
Andrew's life had, so far, been a bit of trouble for him. His mom and dad split, and his mom took his older sister with him. She said that it was 'better that way', but he didn't understand it; he didn't much care to find out just what she meant, either. He figured it was something cruel, and he had no interest in keeping the truth on his conscience. At least his dad had a decent job, so they got to keep the house. It was nothing too amazing, but comforting enough. He didn't want to have to move on top of everything.

It'd been two years since. The lack of arguments between his parents and his sister's overall bitchiness (which both she and their mother vehemently accredited to her hormones) allowed him to get his grades up, and even his depression was fading. Unfortunately, the last year had slapped him with puberty, and though he had manliness to look forward to, growing hair in weird places, his changing voice, and the random, fierce urges to hump things -- anything, living or not -- was really irritating. Somehow, in all that mess, he'd managed to snag his first girlfriend.

The relationship was a bit of a silly thing; he'd never kissed her and they were incredibly too shy to even hold hands in public. But he liked her. She was cute, with her oversized glasses and freckles. She got called a nerd a lot, but he didn't see it. He liked that she was smart and was even willing to help him with math, which he was terrible at. He was more concerned that his decent into manhood would scare her off. Already, he was growing a patchy beard and he wore deoderant and even showered every day (which, admittedly, he did more for an excuse to fap furiously before school).

He was nothing special, really. He liked to write poems and kept a journal. He drew, sometimes, and kept his art tacked and taped on his walls. His girlfriend, Jenny, complimented it sometimes, and it always turned his cheeks red hot with embarassment. He had dark hair and pale skin, his eyes a bright green with a dark brown streak in his right iris. He was short, even for his age, and scrawny, which often left him in the hands of bullies. He always stood up to them for Jenny, but he only ignored it when they picked on him.

He got off the school bus, Jenny following shyly behind. It was her first time visiting the Dryle house, and she was nervous, but so was Andrew. He hadn't asked his father, too shy to confront him, but it was okay since he wouldn't been home for a while, not until dinner time. He was sure of that. So he escorted her along and unlocked the door, closing it quietly behind him.

"Uhm. So. This is it..!" he spoke, gesturing to the room around him. She gave a small giggle in response and he blushed heavily.

"Do you want to do stuff in here?" she asked. The front room was the lounge, and she worried that the prospect of a television would be too distracting.

"... Well, we can go to my room..." he said, meaning it as a joke.

She shrugged. "Okay." The response was so innocent that Andrew felt a little guilty for apparently roping her into it. It certainly didnt help that his prick was suddenly trying to fight it's way out of his pants. He closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled and lead her on.

"It's his way." He walked behind her, guiding her with words as he attempted to berate his prick into submission; damned thing always seemed to choose the worst times...
 
RE: Daddy's Little Man

David had always tried to be a good father to both of his children. He had tried to be a good husband, as well; but that was hard when your wife went about fucking every man she felt like. His daughter wasn't even really his. But for her sake, they had tried to make things better. For a while, things had been hard, but he had come to forgive Janet, to love her again. But it didn't last.

Though he didn't find out about it for over a decade later, she had started to cheat again. He had suspected it, but he had shut his mind up with thoughts that he was just being paranoid. When he finally had ultimate proof, he simply couldn't take it anymore. He had promised not to tell either of the children, for their own sake, and had left her. Only the assurance that Andrew really was his son - something he could only believe once he had the test in front of him - had kept him from spiraling into a deep depression. He had been able to keep him, and his whole life, destroyed after his wife's betrayal, now revolved around his work, and of course his son.

In those two years, the only 'human' comfort he had been able to get, was his own hand, jerking off to more and more kinky things in an attempt to keep himself distracted. It wasn't for lack of trying, of course, but no woman seemed to be interested in him. Who could blame them? He obviously wasn't going to let them in, too hurt by the woman he still felt for to trust another. The fact that he still loved her only made it worse. Because of course, she had had no trouble moving on, falling into the beds of numerous boyfriends.

The meeting he was supposed to attend today had been cancelled, and so he found himself driving home much earlier than he had expected. He was intending to have a drink, rather intent on denying that it was a problem. He didn't drink nearly as much as some of the men you see in movies and tv shows. He moved into the kitchen, pulling out a beer and cracking it open, heading into the lounge and half-collapsing on the couch. Today had been a bitch, and he was looking forward to the chance to relax for a while.
 
RE: Daddy's Little Man

Andrew had managed to guide his young girlfriend into the bedroom. They'd pulled out homework and books from their bags, and giggling ensued between the two of them. He was glad that he was allowed a book over his lap to hide his embarassing little problem. Thankfully, with time, his arousal passed enough not to be visible through his jeans, and that's all he could ask for. They spread their work over the floor beside his bed and she gladly assissted him with several math problems before an idea occured to him. He smiled and stood, clearly a slim path for him to step to the door.

"I'm gonna grab some chips and a soda. You want one?" He wasn't exactly keeping his tone down, though behind closed doors, it was still quite audible, if muffled. Andrew opened the door, just then, preparing to leave and head into the kitchen. He had no idea his father was home.

"Uhm... sure." Her voice was small and shy, but definitive against Andrew's slightly more masculine tone. He'd never mentioned to his father about his girlfriend's existence.

He smiled, closed the door, and turned back into the hallway, heading into the kitchen, right past the lounge without noticing his father's form in his blissful state.
 
David paid no heed when he heard his son talking. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but really, who wasn't guilty of the act of talking to oneself at some time or another? He figured that his son simply hadn't heard him coming in. What did raise suspicions, however, was hearing another voice answer him. It was even quieter, but as he hadn't yet turned on the tv - hand in fact holding the remote still in the air - he heard it. Most definitely female.

He saw his son passing through to the kitchen, a somewhat blissful expression on his face, not noticing his father in the slightest. It didn't take a genius to put things together. He felt a strange surge of emotion, one he quickly labelled as protectiveness, ignoring the thought that it might be anything else. He wasn't surprised, or particularly annoyed with the idea that Andrew had kept it from him, it was fairly typical behavior for a boy his age.

So he attempted to dismiss the bad feelings welling up in his chest, all to similar to the way he'd felt when he found out about Janet's betrayal. He simply told himself that it was a feeling all parents felt when their children started growing up and showing their own independence. He wasn't sure he could cope with his son leaving him. His work was the only other thing he had in his life, and he hated it. He wanted his son to be with him forever.

He drowned the thoughts in a deep swig of his beer before standing, trying to smile in a friendly manner, though his feelings twisted it slightly, as he followed his son into the kitchen, standing in the doorway and, though he didn't realize it on a conscious level, rather effectively trapping the boy in the room. "Who's your girlfriend?"
 
Andrew and grabbed chips, first, snatching the whole bag from the pantry; he didn't like to use bowls, feeling like it was a waste of dishes. As his father rounded the corner, he was just rising from behind the fridge door. The shock of his father's sudden voice and his figure in the doorway made him drop both the soda and chips, the cans thankfully not cracking when they hit the floor. It took a moment for the words to register, and he first began to stammer out senselesss syllabols, then cleared his throat. He didn't know what to say. Clearly, he'd been caught red handed, and there was no way out.

His eyes moved past his father, toward his bedroom. For a moment, he considered trying to slip past the man, escape to his bedroom and get Jenny out the window. God, would that seem suspicious... but he was certainly still tempted. When his gaze pulled back to the man in the doorway, he decided maybe telling the truth would be best.

"... I... Her name is Jenny..." He swallowed. "I'm sorry, dad..." Fuck, he was in so much trouble. He knew it. He was going to get the stick or something and be sent to his room, grounded for ages and unable to see his Jenny ever again. "She's helping me with homework... I just wanted to get her a snack..!"
 
David felt a strange rising of amusement as he saw his son drop the chips and soda, it was kinda cute, seeing him so panicked. That, more than anything, made it even more obvious that the girl was indeed his girlfriend. The idea soured his smile slightly. He was tempted to do exactly what Andrew seemed to expect him to do, but mostly because he felt the need to separate him from the girl. She wasn't supposed to be a part of their life. It was supposed to be just him and his son.

He fought with feelings of possession and what he refused to accept was jealousy. He didn't want to let his son know what he was thinking, feeling, so he decided to play it safe, pushing his feelings away and pretending not to be bothered.

"Make sure you let those sit for a while, I'm not cleaning it up if you make a mess in there." His voice would sound a little strained, and after a moment, he looked away. "And make sure to keep the door open." He went over to the fridge, grabbing another beer before heading back into the lounge. He needed it to get rid of these strange and unwanted feelings. He drained his first quickly, turning on the tv before opening the other.
 
Andrew stared at his father, a little shocked. Was he really getting away with this? He'd snuck his girlfriend into the house when his father wasn't supposed to be home, hadn't even told the man about her, and he'd been caught red-handed and was being told to keep his door open? He straightened himself as the initial shock quickly wore off. He let his father through to get a beer, then exchanged his sodas for two new ones before he headed back to the bedroom. He wasn't so sure he wanted to keep her there, though. Helpful or not, it just felt... awkward.

"Here..." he offered the soda, shameful of the small contact in the kitchen. "My dad's home, so... Uhm."

She sat up, surprised. "You didn't get into trouble, did you?"

He gave a small, dry laugh, trying to keep his voice down; television running or not, he wasn't sure how good his dad's ears were. "No, and that's the weird thing..." he crouched and began to help clean up the paper and book mess they'd created. Jenny blushed, a little disheartened by this development. "I dunno, it's just weird, so I think maybe you should come back some other time. Dad knows, now, so it's not like it should be hard..."

She zipped up her bag and pulled it over her shoulders, then they stood together. "Sorry, Jenny." He gave his girl a sheepish smile, and the look made her giggle. It made him feel a hell of a lot better.

"It's okay. Just try to do well on your homework, 'kay?" She pulled him into a gentle, affectionate hug before heading for the door, Andrew following along behind.

They had to walk past Andrew's father to get to the front door, of couse, and all Andrew could do was hope that the man left them -- particularly Jenny -- alone. He didn't want to have her escape stalled, and certainly wasn't prepared for the awkwardness of first-time parent/girlfriend meeting. He attempted to quickly usher her out without interference, even rushing her a little more than he probably should've.
 
David managed to keep his mind off things for the small time it took for his son to get his girlfriend out of the room. He looked up, however, as they moved through the lounge. He successfully kept his true feelings out of his expression when he saw her. She was a shy little thing, obviously, but still pretty, in her own way. Seeing a female in his house, again, reminded him of his wife, and suddenly he wondered. Could he trust this girl not to be like Janet? Not to hurt his little boy? Even Lindsay was acting like her mother, uninterested in seeing the man that had raised her, blaming it all on him.

No. Women couldn't be trusted.

He looked away, lest his thoughts be clear upon his face, eyes returning to the television. He was glad she was leaving, maybe he could stop thinking about it for a while. Unfortunately, the beer was having the opposite effect on him, and soon his mind was too full of thoughts to pay much attention to the screen.

He wondered how long they had been seeing each other, behind his back. Wondered what it was his son saw in her. Wondered how long it would be before she either stole him away, or broke his heart. Perhaps she would do both. He felt a deep scowl settle over his expression, but didn't fight it, continuing to keep his eyes on the screen, unseeing, for quite a while if he was left to do so.
 
Andrew successfully saw his girlfriend out, then sighed with relief. As he closed and locked the door, however, he looked over to find his father scowling, and fear rose up from the bottom of his belly. He swallowed, then moved back across the room, praying that he'd be let go.

Just get to your room. Just get to your room.

As he crossed the television, adrenaline shot through his system, his stomach flipped, and he closed his eyes, even if just for the step or two it took to escape the direct line of the machine and his father's gaze. He knew that even if he did make it back to his room unscathed and unscolded, it wouldn't stop his mind from toiling around the prospect of punishment. His father was angry with him, he was certain, and the man was just building up to the point where he'd snap and Andrew would find himself bent over the couch with a paddle smacking fervently against his ass.

The thought made him shudder.

His paranoia stemmed not from his father's actions, but rather those of his uncle. The man was a heavy drinker and had four kids of his own, all boys. They were all built and tough, hardened by their father's fist and switch. Lindsay had it easy when they visited; since she was a girl, she was treated with a disturbing amount of kindness and generosity. For Andrew, however, things were a lot stricter. He dropped a bit of food from his plate, once, when he was little. The dog ate it and he was accused of feeding the canine intentionally. He was taken outside, told to strip nude, and was switched across his entire backside until some places welted and spilled blood. His parents never knew, and it wasn't the only time such a thing had happened when he and his sister were left in his uncle's care.
 
David's eyes narrowed into sudden focus as he saw the boy scurry across his vision. His eyes moved up to follow along behind him. He could see the fear in the boy's eyes, he was obviously terrified that David would do something to him. He was, somewhere in his mind, a little confused. He had never done anything to the boy that would make him this paranoid, and was sure his mother hadn't, either.

But perhaps it was just the glare that had surfaced onto his expression. He felt it fall away, and he watched after the boy. He seemed so scared, but he didn't want the boy to think he was that angry with him. Part of the anger was, in fact, directed at himself, for the confusing whirl of emotions raging through his head.

He finished the beer, standing. He was still new enough at this whole drinking thing for a couple of drinks to start effecting him, but he managed to avoid any wobbling. He moved to the room, opening the door if it had been closed.

"Andrew...." His voice still sounded strange, but the anger was gone from his expression. His mind would be even more confused as he saw the boy's expression properly. The fear made him want to go comfort him, to hold him. He didn't even know why the feeling was confusing him, shouldn't it be natural that he want to comfort his son?

This was doing his head in.
 
Andrew relaxed slightly as he made it through the lounge's archway and started down the hall, glad that he'd avoided confrontation; perhaps all would go overlooked, after all. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this, though, feeling a little like punishment would make him calm, at this point. He shut his door behind him, deciding to focus on his homework. Maybe getting his mind working on something as complicated as math was would help take the edge off of his confusion.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and swung his legs over to stretch out, pulling a book into his lap. Then the door flung open and he nearly threw his book through the ceiling.

Shit, here it comes, he thought, fully expecting his father to do any number of unholy, painful things to him. Fear was more than obvious, even making him shake a little. He bit back the urge to plead, knowing all to well what punishment begging brought. He shut his eyes and braced himself, tensing. Please get it over with, please get it over with!
 
David stood there for a few moments, just staring at the boy. He looked like he was ready to piss himself with fear. Eventually, the sight compelled him to move, sitting beside his son on the bed. Drunk, and confused as he was, concern still won through in the end. "Hey..." He frowned a little, looking away. Emotions weren't his strong point, but he needed to at least try and reassure the boy.

"I'm not angry with you." That much was true. There was some annoyance, that he had been lied to, and perhaps if the boy didn't look so scared, he might have considered punishing him. Maybe grounding him for a week, something like that. Generic dad punishments.

"She seems nice." Technically the truth, once again. She seemed nice. His mother seemed nice as well. David's confused, but irritatingly vocal feelings were shouting against allowing this, practically encouraging it, even. He wanted to say that he couldn't see her again, some wild part of his mind even considered leaving the house, leaving the town, to make sure he'd never see her again.

But she wasn't the real problem, was she? All it would cause would be to hurt Andrew, and when he finally got over her, found someone else, he would keep this next one even more secret. It would push him away. It was better to let him see her again, allow it right in front of him, so that he could at least keep an eye on him, try to keep their relationship strong. It might be longer before he left, then.
 
Andrew gave a whimpered noise as he felt his father sit beside him, fingers curling into his bedding. He waited for his father's fist to meet his gut, or his hands to wrap around his throat; his imagination was ruthlessly endless with possibilities. When the man spoke, again, he flinched, but wouldn't open his eyes until he mentioned Jenny. He bit his lip, peeking at him through narrowed, wary eyes. So easy to embarass, the boy's cheeks reddened as he thought of her. He looked away from his father, instead concentrating on his own knees.

"... Yeah," he managed after clearing his throat twice. He still hadn't managed to relax. It was hard to believe someone wouldn't hurt him when he'd gone behind the man's back and he smelled so heavily of beer. Memory after memory of his uncle's abuse washed over him and sank in like acid.

At least Andrew had been lucky enough to escape being raped or he might've been far more scarred. The beatings had been bad enough at such an early age, and recent enough that the sting of the switch on his naked skin and the burn of hot iron against his bare flesh still felt fresh and painful as ever. He had countless scars across his body, each of them an agonizing reminder of what he'd managed to escape.
 
David stared at him for a few more moments. Andrew was still afraid, that much was obvious. He remained, simply looking at him for a good while before he moved to wrap his arms around his son.

His feelings flared as he got that close, and only served to confuse him more. He pressed his lips, reassuringly, against Andrew's head, then found himself moving. In his drunken state, he didn't recognize what he was doing until he'd already done it. Andrew's lips were soft, amazingly so.

He pulled back after a moment, but that moment was enough. He stared, with shock, at the boy, before stumbling back from the bed. What he had done, that could perhaps be explained away by his drunken state. What could not, however, was the feelings that came with it.

He stumbled out of the room, into his own, slamming the door behind him. He collapsed on the bed, giving a slight, strangled noise as he felt his crotch had reacted to the small moment. The thoughts made a lot more sense, now, but it didn't make anything better.
 
Andrew tensed with fear as his father's arms encompassed him. The sensation of being held was hardly comforting, all too foreign for him to find familiarity in. Even if he'd been held in the past, it was ages ago, back before his uncle's beatings had taught him that comfort was for pussies and that all he had to look forward to was pain for puishment. The press of the man's lips to his head only served to draw a dismayed noise from his throat. The press to his lips was outright shocking.

The motion seemed to last forever, and he couldn't move. His eyes were wide as he recognized what it was, and the fact that he'd just lost his first kiss to his father. A mixture of utter fear and depression rose in him, and he began to protectively curl up. He was certain that what would follow it would be a thousand times worse; he didn't want to be touched, and the linger arms of the man made him panic.

But then he moved away.

Andrew watched him, heart pounding, kneels held tightly to his chest with his arms firmly wrapped around them to keep them stationary. He was shocked that his father was leaving, though the moment he stepped though that door, Andrew shot up and slammed it, locking it swiftly before he scurried to slide under his bed. It wasn't until he felt safe, crushed between the bed box and the floor, that he began to cry.

He was horrified. What the hell came over his father? Would he do it again? ... Would he do worse? He really hoped not; he hoped it was all just a credit to the man's beer, that they'd never speak of this again, and Andrew could try to forget about it.
 
He couldn't stop thinking about how soft those lips were, they were practically intoxicating. He could even remember the boy's scent. When he was younger, he had experimented with other males, but never felt anything like this. He wasn't even sure he'd felt something like this with his wife. Some part of him told him that it was obsession, a very unhealthy obsession that would hurt him and his son.

But another, louder part of him told him much more alluring things. It would be a way to keep his son a part of his life forever. He might even let him have girlfriends, because secretly, Andrew would belong to him. The idea that Andrew might tell someone, that he might leave because of this was too horrible for his mind to comprehend. It skipped over it much like the fact that his son was only fourteen.

Without a doubt, the thing that finally cemented all of this in his mind was as he reached down, hand slipping into his pants. He grunted lightly as he gripped himself, and thoughts of those soft lips, that small, young body brought him to orgasm almost as quickly as if he were just out of puberty himself.

He lay on the bed for a long while, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually he cleaned himself up, heading out into the kitchen. The confusion was gone from his face, now. He cooked dinner, serving himself a plate before going back to Andrews room. He knocked, and his voice held no trace of what had happened earlier, as if it was completely gone from his mind. "Dinner's ready."

He then moved into the lounge, settling himself comfortably in front of the tv and starting to watch as he ate.
 
The sound of his father's door opening out in the hall made him want to vomit. Even though the sound was distant, it felt much closer to him than the bed above him. He held his breath for a few moments, waiting for his father to attempt coming through his door, to invade his room for hell knows what else. He didn't want to think about it, but it was hard when no amount of wiping at his lips would remove that shameful feeling. The smell of the beer on his father's breath lingered, as well, and he couldn't get that horrid image out of his head.

He'd managed to cry himself out while his father made dinner, lying still and quite beneath his bed; the only sound, only movement, was that of his lungs expanding and collapsing, sending gentle waves of warm air over the arm he'd let his head rest against. He could feel that his face was raw from crying and his eyes were swollen. His nose was largely stuffed, thus he had to breathe through his mouth.

When his father knocked on the door, he tensed, but remained silent. The man acted like nothing had happened, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He knew he hadn't imagined that; his father had put too much into that kiss for it to be a mere family affection. He shuddered at the sudden vividity of the memory, curling up just slightly more before he fell still, again. His father hadn't tried to open the door and he could hear the television going in the living room. He sighed heavily, and though his stomach protested, he thought it better to skip this meal.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He wanted to sleep, hoping that he could manage to pass the rest of the night away without having to face his father, again. He would've much preferred a beating to... that. He drifted off much quicker than he'd expected, and slept peacefully, despite everything.

The door remained locked, he remained under the bed, and not a sound would come from the boy's bedroom for the rest of the night, unless his father decided to make otherwise.
 
David was a little worried when Andrew didn't come out for dinner, but he didn't push the matter. The boy needed time to adjust, to get used to how things were going to be. That was the only thought keeping him from barging in there and just claiming the boy then and there, though the thought definitely roused reaction in his loins. It had been a long while since he could get this horny again so quickly.

By the time he finished eating, he figured his son wasn't coming out. So he put the plate aside and grinned to himself as he pulled out his already hard shaft. A few soft noises escaped his lips as he jerked himself off for the second time, but they were easily covered by the noise of the television. He almost hoped that Andrew would come out and see this, maybe even come over to help. He was aware it was a largely deluded thought, but it was still an amazingly attractive one.

He imagined those soft lips around his cock, and blew his load, giving a soft groan of pleasure. He shuddered as he milked the cum from his shaft, biting his lip a little. Already, he wanted to cross the line from thinking about it to doing it, but he forced himself to be patient. He would have to ease Andrew into this.

He looked down at the mess he'd made, and an idea came to him. He grinned widely, collecting most of it on a tissue and cleaning up the rest. He went into the kitchen again, and went over to the leftovers, still in the pot. He used only a little of his cum, making sure it wouldn't effect the taste too much, before tossing the rest in the bin. He stirred it in vigorously, then placed the leftovers in a container, putting it all in the fridge. Tomorrow morning, perhaps, Andrew would decide to have left-overs for breakfast, or maybe for lunch. Either way, if he did, he would end up consuming a small amount of his own father's cum.

The idea almost made David want to masturbate again, but he needed a little time to recover. He went back to sit in front of the tv once more, staying there until he went to bed. He had to masturbate one last time before he could slip into a happy sleep.

He'd be out of the house early in the morning, the prospect of work not quite as bad now that he had something to look forward to.
 
Andrew woke late into the night, the position he'd fallen asleep in made him incredibly sore and stiff. On top of that, his stomach was aching with the need to be filled. Carefully, he pulled himself from the confines beneath his bed, stretching and cracking once he was standing. His arms tingled as blood flowed back into his extremities. With a heavy sigh, he looked at his clock. It was well after midnight and the house was silent; he was positive his dad was asleep.

Thank god.

He tiptoed to the door. He was hungry and tired, but knew going back to bed on an empty stomach was a bad idea. He unlocked it as quietly as he could, then lifted it to decrease the chance of it's hinges squeaking and revealing his attempt. He shuddered and paused when he had it just far enough to step through. Adrenaline coursed through him as he did his best not to wake his father, unsure of what the consequences might entail.

Carefully, he went on to the kitchen, avoiding squeaky floorboards and sticking to the wall. When he passed the threshold of the kitchen, he released a heavy breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He ran a hand through his mop and opened the fridge.

He was surprised to find there was so little of dinner left over, though it was enough. Despite the situation, dad's food was always better than junk, even if it was from a box or can. He grabbed it, and spoon, along with a soda, before he snuck into the lounge.

It was dark as sin in there, but he didn't mind. He wouldn't dare turn on a light or the television, for fear of his dad waking and realizing he was up while the man made his way to the bathroom. He popped the soda quickly, trying to muffle it the best he could, then held his breath until he was assured his father hadn't heard. When he tasted the first of his father's meal, he was suspicious of it's taste, just slightly saltier than usual. It was so faint, however, and he didn't make a habit of eating hot meals cold, either. He ultimately decided it was just the fridge's fault and finished his food, hardly even able to see the bowl he ate from.
 
David was woken at some point during his sleep by a need to relieve his bladder. He got out of the bed quietly, not feeling the need to turn on any lights. His eyes were mostly used to the dark, and he'd lived in the house long enough to be able to safely navigate most of it with his eyes closed. He moved quietly, general courtesy, not wanting to wake his son with his night-time venture.

He made it to the bathroom without noticing anything, too distracted by the need to take a piss to really pay any attention. He gave a soft sigh of relief as his bladder emptied, then went on his way back to his room. He felt along the wall on the way, and almost fell through the open door of Andrew's room, still expecting it to be securely closed. He stood there for a few moments before peeking in. It didn't seem that Andrew was there.

For a heart-stopping moment he thought Andrew had run away, but as the adrenaline cleared the fog from his mind, sharpening his senses, he heard a slight rustle in the lounge. He relaxed as his mind put things together, almost forgetting entirely what he'd done with the food Andrew was most likely eating.

He grinned widely, slowly, as silently as he could, moving closer to the lounge. He stopped in the hallway, being sure not to let Andrew see if he looked towards the door. He rubbed at himself through his pants, listening to the small, almost imperceptible noises as Andrew ate. God, he wanted to go in there, but again he resisted.

Eventually he forced himself to move away, moving as quietly as he could back into his room, pulling out his cock and jerking almost fiercely. He almost couldn't believe Andrew had really done it, and now that he thought he could get away with it, he intended to do it again. When he came, he lifted his hand to his own mouth, tasting. He needed to know the taste if he was going to have any hope of hiding it.
 
The sound of Alex's father getting up to piss made his adrenaline spike, again. He tried to keep himself from shaking as he waited it out; the sound of his heart in his ears made it impossible to tell if the man had gone to bed or not. He couldn't see a shadow, either, so all he could do was wait and pray. When he was finally sure his father had gone back to his room, he finished his soda and the very last of his meal before he quietly took care of dishes and snuck back into his bedroom. He closed the door slowly and as quietly as possible, locking it before crawling under his sheets and moving as close to the wall as possible.

He woke to his alarm and nearly cried when he realized he'd have to see his father before school. He clambered out of bed and quickly got his things together before he headed into the bathroom for his routine shower; as terribly as he wanted to leave and get to school, he couldn't go face his girlfriend unclean. He locked the door behind him, bathed quickly, prepped himself, and then grabbed his things, slipping from the house as soon as he could. He had time and intended to spend what little money he had on some breakfast, rather than eat it around his dad.

The school day was far too short. He had no afterschool activities and Jenny had been out sick. It made his stomach churn to think that his father could've had a hand in it. He was quiet on the bus, ignoring bullies as usual, and headed home in defeat. He had nowhere else to go, so he had no choice but to go up to his front door, hoping that he at least had a few hours to himself before his father got home.
 
The sound of his son in the shower provoked thoughts, but he kept them to himself. He let Andrew go without talking to him, still giving him time to adjust. He jerked off in the shower, and got himself to work. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, David stayed late at the office. He did this so that he could be sure he'd have the whole weekend off to stay at home with his son.

By the time he got home, it was about dinner time. He got home, changed, then went to find Andrew. "Wanna get take-out and see a movie?" He still didn't mention what happened last night. For all the world it just seemed like he felt like treating his son to a good night. It almost seemed like he might have forgotten.

Of course, he hadn't. He was just trying to get his son in a good mood, trying to make sure he liked him. They had a big weekend ahead of them, after all, and he could wait another night, especially if he got to spend it with his son.
 
Alex was more than relieved to find his father was still at work. He wasn't sure how long he had, but he wanted to use the time he had to attempt escaping seeing the man for another night. He made a quick sandwich, grabbed chips, and soda, then quickly made it to his room. He locked the door and sat on his bed, staring at the wall as his mind contemplated his circumstances. By the time he snapped out of it enough to eat and finish his food, it was nearly dinner time and his father had returned. His heart about jumped into his stomach and rocketed out on a sea of puke when his father knocked at the door and asked him out.

"... N-no, I already ate..." He couldn't stand the idea of going anywhere with him, at the time. Especially something like dinner and a movie. It felt too much like something his father could see as a date, and the thought horrified him. "I'm not feeling good," he lied. "I'm gonna go to bed, soon..."

The prospect of a full weekend subjected to his father's will made him all the more nauseous. It wasn't such a lie, after all. He sighed heavily, setting his dish and trash aside before he crawled beneath his blankets. He wasn't tired in the least, however, and the inactivity was already clawing at his mind. He willed his father to leave him alone, so very thankful for the lock on his door.
 
He hadn't expected this. He stood at the door, staring at it almost dumbly for a few moments. "Oh..." The disappointment was all too clear in his voice. He'd been looking forward to it all day. He had expected Andrew to be a little disturbed, but the idea that it was bothering him this much... That he would be too afraid to go out with his own father... Some part of his mind pushed these thoughts away, not letting him think them. Part of him knew his feelings were too unstable for that. He would get angry, go into the room by any means possible and just take what he wanted, if there was never a possibility of it being offered.

No, it was better to just believe his son. Maybe he had picked something up at school, or eating the food cold had given him food poisoning. He wasn't worried that something in his sperm could have made Andrew sick. After finding out his wife had been cheating on him, yet again, he had gotten himself tested. He was completely clean. Either his wife was smart enough to use condoms this time, or she'd just gotten lucky with her partners.

"Just get some rest, then" His mind had convinced himself that it was, and only could be that Andrew had gotten sick at school. Anything else was just... too much. He sounded a lot more cheerful, when he spoke. "I'm ordering pizza, you want me to get you any for later?"
 
Andrew felt his stomach do another flip. He wondered if he was being too harsh. The idea that his father had just been too drunk to realize came to mind, again, and he actually considered it, this time. He thought about the second offer a little longer than he had the first, his mind quickly running off in a tangent.

"... Dad?" his voice cracked, thanks to his throat muscles changing. "... I... Can we just stay in, today?" At least that way, if something happened, he could just run back into his room, right? He wanted to give his father the benefit of the doubt, at least this once. Just to be sure. "... I might get sick, though," he spoke, his voice more wary than showing any form of illness, "... Just so you know..."
 
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