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Daddy's Little Man (FDM + Sparru)

The sound of his father's pleasure made Andrew go silent. He... he just couldn't understand. Andrew had done nothing, as far as he could tell, to lead his father on and get himself into this situation. So, why? Why was his father doing this? He shivered, holding himself with his back pressed against the door for a while, trying to find the reason. And as much as he hated himself for it, the noises roused him, his prick rising in betrayal as he unwillingly listened and his mind played back the kiss and the maul in the living room.

Damnit..!

It occured to him, then, that his father had started this when he found out about Jenny. Was that what this was about? Was he trying to break them up or something? He shuddered, trying his best to ignore that damn throb in his loins. He was beginning to realize that if this were true, his father would never let him go. Whether he liked it or not, the man was going to continue to force himself on the poor boy, and probably rape him many times over.

His sobbing started up, again, but he was much quieter. He wondered if maybe he should just give in and forget about Jenny. Maybe let his father use him as he liked and just lose himself. It was better than fighting it and getting hurt, better than having to look that man in the face and seriously believe the man was still his father.

He bit his lip and his hand cautiously traveled into his pants. As he touched at himself, he squirmed. It felt unnatural, but also incredible. As if the fact that it was taboo made it more exciting and sensitive. He gave a quiet sigh and covered his mouth with his free hand, closing his eyes as he let himself remember the couch incident. It was hard as hell to concentrate, to actually more his hand over his unbelievably sensitive prick; it was awkward and the image made him want to stop, but he had to like it. Or at least tolerate it. It was the only way he could get through this without trying to kill himself or run away. He clasped his hand over his mouth tighter, moving it to cover his nose, as well, to muffle the soft, uncomfortable moans. He was quivering and his hand was slow, and before he could bring himself to climax, he had to stop.

He couldn't do it. It was too weird.

Panting, sobbing quietly, he moved over to his bed and crawled beneath the blankets. He was positive things were only going to get worse. He blocked his dad's sounds off in his mind and focused instead on Jenny. The way she smelled, the color of her eyes and the shape of her lips. He fapped quickly, grabbing a tissue from his bedside drawer to cum in. When his prick was finally soft, he tossed the tissue to join the mound in his bin, then flopped back to cover his head with his pillow. He hoped his father would be done soon so he could go to sleep.
 
Luckily for Andrew, there was only so long - no matter how horny - a man his age could last. He ended up collapsed against the bed, panting heavily. He was lucky he was fit or this sort of treatment would probably have given him a heart attack by now.

He passed out into an easy sleep, dreams happy. When he woke in the morning, he happily made his way to the kitchen, humming lightly under his breath. He would make something simple, some part of his mind recognizing that it might be futile to try and get Andrew to eat, just yet. He didn't knock on his door, either, just ate his food in a content silence.
 
Andrew fell asleep a while after his father did, waking when he head David's kitchen noises. He didn't recall having fallen asleep, surprised that his clock beamed AM. He stared at it for a good while, then sighed heavily when he realized he had morning wood. He quickly tried to wank, but he had far too much on his mind, even so early. Frustrated, he rolled out of bed. He changed into his usual sleep attire for comfort, ignoring the fact that his prick was obvious in his pants. He thought, bitterly, that it didn't really matter at this point.

He went out and moved to sit in his usual spot at the table. He wasn't sure how to go about it, but he knew he had to try. With a deep breath, he began. "Dad... You don't want me to have a girlfriend, do you?" He could've been accusing and cold toward the man, but all they really had was each other, and though he didn't like what his father was doing, he still loved him. Thus, he chose his words as carefully as he could, trying to level with the man and understand his reasons.
 
David looked up in pleased surprise when Andrew came in. His eyes flicked down to the boy's erection, and he squirmed anxiously. He smiled at the other as he sat down, though remained silent. He would see Andrew wanted to get something out.

He remained silent for a few long moments after the question was asked. He had to think about it. He didn't mind the idea of Andrew being with someone, he was a fourteen year old boy, after all, he was entitled to his fair share of girlfriends, but... "I don't want you to leave." There was fear in his voice, at the idea. "And I don't want you to get hurt..." Like he had. He knew how much it hurt when someone was unfaithful.

He was terrified of Andrew getting involved with her any more than he already was. If they loved each other, they might try to stop it, and Andrew might only have room in his heart for one... Still, Andrew deserved to have a friend, at least, didn't he?

There was obvious conflict on his face, he thoughts contradicting each other and just confusing him again. But eventually he shook his head. No, he didn't want Andrew to have anyone else, and even in the depths of his cracked mind, he felt selfish for it.
 
Andrew blushed a little as his father spoke, and tensed slightly when he shook his head. The boy had to look away and think for a few moments. Then he sighed.

"I don't..." He wasn't sure how to go about it, again. He had to be careful. "I love you, dad. I don't wanna leave or anything..." He shifted, his gaze still averted and his blush only getting heavier. With his prick so aroused, he was beginning to feel like his groin was seperate from him, that there was a part of him that wanted to feel immensely good, but he just couldn't quite connect it to the rest of him. "If..." he shifted a little in his seat, "... I wanna make you happy, dad, but... This is really weird..."

He swallowed and tensed a bit as he imagined what his uncle had done to him. His urge to 'please' his father grew stronger, if only to avoid other means of keepinghis 'little boy' around. He was incredibly awkward, and figuring it would help, he got up and headed to the fridge, finding the pizza he'd hardly touched so he could eat; he was starving from the long period without food. He brought the entire box and a couple sodas right to the table, trying to act like everything was utterly normal.
 
David stared at him as he spoke, silent, remaining so as he brought out the pizza from the fridge. Eventually he would shift a little, smiling at him strangely. It would show in this how far his mind had already gone. But the worst part would probably be that the man was still in there, somewhere. He really did love his son. He just couldn't see that what he was doing was wrong anymore.

"I know it'll be a little strange, at first..." He shifted a little. "But I can go slow, and I promise I'll make it feel good..." He was determined, that much was clear. He shifted a little, his gaze getting a little excited. "I haven't been this bad since I was your age.." His hand would be moving a little underneath the table, not fully jerking himself off, just rubbing himself.
 
Andrew chewed slowly as his father went on. It made him more uncomfortable, especially since his prick seemed to think it was a great idea. He gave a trembling sigh in between bites and distracted himself from the moving hand by opening his soda. He drank a few slow gulps, brow furrowing as he thought. He couldn't find words, not sure what to say to the man, anymore. His father wanted to do this, and he couldn't find it in himself to outright say 'no'.

Still, he continued to eat like nothing was wrong, even despite the fact that his pajamas now had a nice little wet spot where his prick came to an end. It was clear that he was rock hard, as well, thanks to the obvious -- if small -- head defined by the wet cloth, poking from it's uncut sheath. It was, at most, four inches in length, hardly the girth of two fingers put together, and it was betraying Andrew in that it was practically begging to be fondled and sucked at.
 
It wasn't long before David's eyes were drawn down to Andrew's crotch. He gave a soft moan at the sight, it was absolutely beautiful to him. Slowly, he reached forward, forgetting his own breakfast entirely. He touched it lightly and shivered, biting his lip.

His eyes moved up to Andrew's face for a moment as he slowly fondled the tip through the cloth. He moved in slowly, leaning in and pressing his lips sensually against the soft skin of his son's neck, moaning and letting his tongue slip out.

"Nnnh... Just relax, Andrew...." He smiled, slipping his hand into Andrew's pants and pulling them down just enough to free Andrew's straining cock. He moaned softly, taking it into his hand and starting to stroke.

He kept this up for a while before moving away, slipping off the chair and onto the floor in front of Andrew. He gave a soft sigh, letting the breath flow across the sensitive skin. He continued to stroke as he let his mouth close over the head, sucking lightly, his tongue toying with the leaking slit.
 
Andrew stiffened when his father reached over to touch him. His whole body ceased function, even forgetting to breathe. The little prick twitched with excitement as attention was given to it. He gave a soft, uncomfortable noise when his father leaned over, pressing his lips to his neck. He shut his eyes tight, quivering a little. He had to fidget, his balls already aching for release. It was so weird. He didn't want it, but he couldn't stop it.

He dropped his food as his father began to stroke him, leaning over the table as he gripped at the surface. He moaned, the sound strained; the man's rough hands were more pleasing than anything he'd ever felt before, and though the idea of doing anything like with his own father was disturbing, he had to admit he was enjoying it. Before he realized what his father was doing, he felt the man's mouth enclose over his cock.

"Ahhn!" It took but one lick to have him cumming into his dad's mouth, hips jerking and body reacting enough to make the table bounce. He groaned after, the feeling of his father's warm mouth absolutely amazing. Before he could stop himself, and before his father could move away, he found his hands moving to cling to his father's head. He attempted, then, to hump the man's face, not caring that he was going flaccid. He let his head fall back, eyes rolling as he moaned and gasped in pleasure.
 
David moaned happily as he felt Andrew cum into his mouth, he smiled, starting to pull back, swallowing the cum. But a moment later he felt Andrew's hand at the back of his head, keeping him in place.

Of course, he could have pulled away if he wanted to. But why the hell would he want that?

At first, he gagged a little, before remembering his 'practice' and everything he'd read. It was still touch and go, and often he failed to manage to take it into his throat, but occasionally he managed. He stared up at his son's face, moaning, his spare hand starting to jerk himself off fully.
 
As Andrew's body relaxed, things became weird, again. He realized he'd been directly encouraging his father to suck him off, and it made him bright red. He attempted to hurriedly push him off, the sight of his father's face in such a sensitive place just a bit too much for him. "Da-dad!" he pled, desperate to be freed from the man's mouth.
 
David would allow himself to be pushed away as Andrew seemed to come back to himself. He gave a low moan, eyes still locked on the shrunken appendage, jerking his own hips lightly as he came.

He gave a low sigh, slowly moving to sit back on his chair, flopping against it somewhat and panting heavily. He smiled happily, wanting to snuggle, but not pushing his luck. Andrew needed a little space.

He remembered his food and, with renewed appetite, dug in once more. His cock was still hanging out a little, but he acted as if nothing too special had happened. The only indication, in fact, seemed to be the large smile on his face.
 
Andrew was flushed deep red; he couldn’t even look at his father as he quickly pulled his pants up over his groin and squirmed from the chair to put some distance between them. He attempted to force the notion of what had just happened as far from his mind as possible, but his still-damp prick was a hard reminder. He couldn’t eat, anymore, even if he was still a bit hungry. He squirmed, distracting himself with the task of cleaning up. He wasn’t sure what to say to his father, after that, very shaken by the experience.

He still couldn’t believe his first blow-job was lost to his father, just like his first kiss.

He shuddered slightly, hardly noticeable unless he was being closely watched (which he half expected), as he stuffed the pizza box back into the fridge, as well as the extra soda. When he reluctantly returned to the table for the last, opened soda, he grabbed it, fondling the tab a the top as he shyly spoke.

“I’m… gonna go play games.” He still kept his embarrassed gaze away from his father’s form, and quickly shuffled out of the room afterward.

He was incredibly relieved to be in a separate room for a while, quickly setting up Halo before he took his usual seat. He managed to play a bit, but he was nowhere near his usual ability. He died repeatedly and hardly noticed, his mind far, far too distracted by the recent event.

Most of all, he hated the fact that he wanted more. It was embarrassing as fuck, weird as fuck, and… good as fuck.

He shivered as his mind locked up, momentarily, staring a the screen as he was killed yet again.

He was so very tempted to go as his dad — his dad — to do it again. Or something like that, anyway. He wanted to be licked and fondled and kissed. His hands trembled and his breath quivered, his little prick rising again so quickly. For the moment, he was absent to the world, caught in his own, perverse day dreams. If his father chose to walk in, right then, he wouldn’t realize it, even if he passed in front of the television. He’d have a nice little view of his son’s dazed, lust-filled expression, and a near perfect sight of the boy’s pitched tent, hardly hidden behind the Xbox’s controller.
 
David licked his lips lightly once more, watching his son closely as he moved away. he saw the shudder, but it quickly slipped his mind. He simply smiled as Andrew spoke, letting him go.

It wasn't long before he felt the need to follow after him, and when he saw the sight, he was glad he did. Andrew seemed lost to the world, and David could easily see the lump in the fabric covering his genitals.

He smiled, heading over to sit next to him on the couch. He gave a soft hum, moving in close, staring at him. He couldn't help another rising of his own loins at the sight, slowly moving his hand to cup at the lump, giving a soft little moan. He began to fondle at it, leaning in and kissing gently at Andrew's cheek.
 
Andrew didn’t snap out of his thoughts until he felt the couch move beside him, at which point he jumped and blushed a bit heavier. He stared at the man, eyes wide, forgetting for a few brief moments that he was, more or less, exposed. He was reminded as his father moved closer, however, suddenly shocked back into the memory of his father grinding against him. He found himself tensing, but he wasn’t quick enough to escape or defend himself, especially since he honestly… wanted it. His father’s hand came to rest over him so suddenly, it seemed; at first, he spread his legs, then he attempted to close them, but the fondling quickly left him melting in his seat. He was already moaning and panting, hands trembling so much that the controller dropped from his grip, and his digits instead pulled back to clutch at the cushion.

“D-dad…” the word shook, his voice breathy and desperate. Fuck, he was such a twisted pervert.

He turned his dazed gaze toward the man, mostly leaning back against the couch. He didn’t want to accept this, didn’t want to let himself fall into such a sinful place… but dear god did he desire it. ‘Just don’t think about it,’ he thought to himself, ‘Just focus on how good it feels, and it’ll be okay. There’s nothing to worry about…’ He moaned and lifted a shaking hand to rest over his father’s, lightly pressing agains it to encourage the man. He was already so close, and all he could suddenly think about was cumming over and over. He wanted to let his father do things he’d never even considered possible. If it felt good…

His free, trembling hand moved to pull away the elastic of his pants, to make his small cock spring free under his father’s hand; he suddenly wanted the man to be rough with it. His cheeks were terribly thick with red, but he was slowly coming to enjoy the embarrassment. His moans became hitched and his faces ultra-erotic, uninhibited. He pushed his father’s hand into his groin and he ground against the rough skin, inadvertently releasing a few cusses that he didn’t even catch in such a state. With the same hand resting over his father’s the other firmly gripped his arm, willing his hand to remain where it was. It didn’t take him long to spurt, but when he did, he only held the man’s hand firmer.

“D-d-don’t…” he pleaded, before releasing another hitched moan, “Nnh, p-please don’t…” His body was pleading to be ravaged, though he couldn’t put such urges into words. He attempted to kick off his pants and continue his humping at the same time. I was a bit jerky and erratic, but he was very much starting to not care.
 
David gave a soft, shaky moan as he watched him, so very happy to see that he was welcoming the touches, not trying to push him away. He gave a soft, excited moan as Andrew called out to him. He leaned in a little closer, moaning again as he felt the boy's hand pressing against his, encouraging him.

"Nnh... Andrew...."

He groaned at the sight of his son's exposed cock, his fingers moving to toy with it eagerly. He shifted to kneel on the floor, between Andrew's legs. His free hand then moved to his own crotch, pulling away his pants and starting to stroke himself eagerly. It was amazing, just how attractive all of this was. He'd always thought of himself as straight, and before the idea of having a cock in his mouth might have made him gag.

But Andrew was special. He could barely take his eyes off Andrew's erotic expressions, and the cussing was music to his ears, the entire scene something so unlike Andrew, seeing a side of him he'd never seen. A side, he believed, no one had seen. This part of Andrew belonged to his father, now, and the idea made him groan loudly.

Andrew came, and for a moment, he almost pulled away. But the boy only wanted more, he was pleading for it. He shuddered deeply, feeling an orgasm rock through his own body, staining the floor with his cum. He leaned in, replacing his hand entirely with his mouth, licking and suckling as he took Andrew by the hips, pulling him forward, then tugging away his pants. He pulled back to take in the sight, and froze completely.

Scars. Scars all over his son's body. Horror drained his face of blood, and rage quickly fought for control. Bright blotches of color appeared on his otherwise colorless face. He couldn't think for a good few moments, his erection quickly fading. Someone had hurt his son, hurt him badly, and he never even knew. The idea that his ex-wife could have done this struck him as ridiculous, but then, who? "...Who...?" He echoed his thoughts, only dimly aware that he'd even spoken.
 
Andrew was still incredibly excited as his father climbed down between his legs. He was so glad that his father was taking so much initiative or he would never have— … That thought was embarrassing and he quickly strayed from it. At least his father had his prick in his mouth a moment later, completely distracting him from his perverse notions. Fuck did it feel so good, though. He found himself humping the man’s face a bit, wanting only more. But then, suddenly, it was gone. He was cold — especially his wet cock — and it took him a few moments to realize why. His pants were off. Huh.

… His pants were off.

He sat up, suddenly, prick going limp almost as quick as his father’s had. He scooted back onto the couch, swallowing and looking utterly ashamed. He couldn’t tell his father what happened. Not only was it too horrible, but it made him feel like he was betraying the man who so mercilessly beat him. The switch that had met his body over and over when he was younger had produced thick, long, bleeding welts wherever it landed, and he had been punished nearly every time — several times — he would visit his cousins. The scars greatly resembled their former state, though they no longer held the rich purple color that they once did.

He glanced down to his father’s cock by accident, noting it’s flaccid state, and it made him all too self conscious. He reached for his pants and quickly attempted to pull them back on. He felt incredibly unattractive and worthless; and, since it was his father, he felt the pains of being a terrible kid. He wanted to run off to his room and hide. The notion brought hope from both sides: he hoped the man would follow him and try to comfort him, but he also hoped that his father would leave him be, to confirm his self-loathing suspicions. He would, indeed, run off, if his father didn’t stop him.
 
David remained still, shocked, until Andrew began to try and get away. It seemed to snap him back into himself, and he lurched forward, gripping Andrew's arms firmly, but still with a sort of timidness that would allow the grip to be easily broken. He was suddenly terrified of hurting the boy, and even more terrified by the look on Andrew's face.

"Ooh.. God, Andrew..." He pulled him close, hoping he could make up for his lack of grip in speed, pulling him in before he could pull away. He held the boy close to his chest. "Who did this to you...?" Whether answered or not, it would be the last time for a while that the question would pass his lips. It wasn't the important thing. The important thing was that it had happened, and Andrew had suffered in silence. Alone.

David wrapped his arms gently around Andrew, holding him close. He was afraid to look at him again, afraid to see that it was even worse than what he'd already seen. He felt utterly responsible for every one of those scars, and so guilty. The guilt almost cleared away the fog surrounding what he had just been doing to his son, and he gave an injured whimper as his mind considered the possibility that it was just as bad. But Andrew's own reactions stopped that from happening, and it faded as quickly as it had come, replaced only by concern and guilt for the scars along his son's body.
 
Andrew was surprised enough by the sudden movement of his father’s arms drawing him in that it threw him off balance and he was easily pulled into the man’s lap. It took him a moment to register his sudden new location, but then looked up to his father’s face, trying to find answers in the man’s expression. The second time the question was asked, he looked away, brow furrowing as the corners of his mouth turned downward. Again, he didn’t want to tell his father who did it, but he’d never told anyone. He never had the opportunity to. He bit his lip. Here, he was finally asked, after so many years, and yet he still felt a desire to hide it. Why was he hiding it, anyway? The man would never know, and it wasn’t like he went over there, anymore…

He squirmed and swallowed thickly, trembling slightly. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to say it. He wanted to talk about it, wanted to tell his father what had happened, whom it was that gave him the scars. But how? How does one speak of horrors they’d attempted to repress?

He turned to press his face into his father’s chest, burying what shame he still held. Now, he just wanted to be comforted. The ache of the once-bloodied wounds was returning as a dull sting, but the memory was enough. He could feel the fear and the agony swelling inside him, and he desperately wanted to be protected, even if he knew the man wouldn’t hurt him, anymore. He sniffled and sobs began to build. He curled up in his father’s lap, making himself a tight ball. He didn’t want to be looked at, right then, but part of him wanted the reassurance that he wasn’t ugly, either. The way his dad’s cock wilted like that…

He gave a particularly big sob, sniffled, then attempted to speak.

“Uh-Uh-Uncle Hah-Hah-Howard…” he hoped his father understood, hoped he wouldn’t have to spill the name a second time. The rest of the details felt much easier to speak, but the name felt even more impossible, now that it escaped him. His sobs picked up and he had to try to reign himself back in; it was no easy task. The harder he tried, the more difficult it became.
 
David made a small noise as he heard, and felt, his son begin to cry. He just wished he could have said something earlier, he'd tried to be there for him, but he wouldn't blame him for it. He'd never been abused, and he couldn't imagine what sort of feelings it would bring up in a boy of Andrew's age. Perhaps the person that had done it had threatened him with worse, should he tell.

The name was hard to hear amid his sobs, but David heard it. Janet's brother. He had never liked the man, and now that dislike grew to a burning hatred so fierce that he was sure, if the man had been there when he found out, he may have killed him.

But the sound of Andrew's renewed sobs caused him to break away from those thoughts. Uncle Howard was in the past, and if Andrew wanted it, he would stay that way forever. His son, however, was now, and his hurt needed attending to.

He pulled him in a little closer, wrapping his arms tenderly around him. He gave a soft, gentle noise of reassurance. "It... It's alright now, Andrew. He can't hurt you anymore." There had been no need to see that side of the family since the divorce, and he was sure he could keep him away from his son. If there was any time they needed to go near him, he wouldn't let Andrew leave his sight.

He continued with his soothing noises. The most important thing now was for Andrew to know that his father loved him either way. To know that he cared.
 
Andrew knew he was safe — he’d been under his father’s care for so long and hadn’t seen his abuser in ages — but it was still good to hear. With his father’s loving arms around him and his careful words, Andrew calmed quickly enough. Guilt still flooded him and his self-confidence was still nearly zilch, but at least his sobbing had been reduced to light sniffles and quivering breaths. He’d had too little reassurance for his appearance, and was quickly sinking into a depression beyond sadness.

He attempted to stand after a while, wanting to stretch and — eventually — move back into his room. He didn’t feel the need to cry, anymore, but something in him convinced him that being alone would help his shattered esteem. He wiggled free of his father’s arms, fixed his clothing, and stretched himself out a bit, then squirmed uncomfortably.

“I-I, uhm…” He swallowed dryly, keeping himself turned away from his father as he spoke; he couldn’t look him in the eyes, not when his own would easily divulge his thoughts. “… I’m gonna go take a nap. I’m really tired…” It was only partially a lie, but a lie nonetheless.
 
David gave a small noise when Andrew started to move, not wanting the boy to leave his arms, but unwilling to hold him if he didn't want to be held. For the moment, at least, he couldn't bear the idea of forcing the boy to do anything. Despite that thought, he still didn't want to let Andrew go, at least not alone. With the initial shock gone, his body was starting to react again. He felt badly for it, sure that Andrew wouldn't be interested in such things at the moment, but that feeling still couldn't help the fact that his cock was beginning to stiffen again.

"Can I come with you?" He flushed awkwardly, glancing down at himself, "I... I'll just lay with you, if you like..." He could keep himself from touching Andrew, if he needed the rest, but he didn't want him to go. He would worry, and at the same time be far too horny to think about anything but his son. Awkwardly, he began to stuff himself back into his pants, but the bulge would still be obvious. He fought the urge to apologize, both for his lingering 'excitement' and for the fact that he had never known, never done anything about it. But it was over, and by the looks of it, Andrew didn't want to think about it anymore, so he kept quiet, just looking up at him with concerned, loving eyes.
 
Andrew looked over his shoulder at his father, just in time to see the man’s hardening cock before he stuffed it away. It made him pause to think. Was his father really still attracted to him after that? He caught himself staring at the man’s cock and quickly looked away, blushing deeply. He had to decide, then; it was hard when he still felt like he should be alone, but he also so desperately wanted to have that cock inside him. It was a truly embarrassing thought, but strong nonetheless. He bit his lip, took a calming, shaking breath, and forced his hand into the front of his own pants.

Andrew kept his back toward his father as his free hand started to pull away his pants. The worst of the scars were revealed this way, but at least he could be sure of his father’s attraction if he saw them, right? With his pants held just below his exposed ass, he moved back to the couch and knelt before it. He flopped his torso onto the cushion and looked back toward his father, his eyes filled with lust, shame, and anxiety, his cheeks red. He wondered if his father would bite or if it’d be a complete turn off.
 
David flushed a little as he saw Andrew's hands moving to his pants, biting his lip as he watched him pull them down. The scars caused unpleasant feelings in his chest, but this time there was no shrinkage in his pants. The earlier reaction had been pure shock and rage. Andrew's skin was marred, yes, but it didn't change his attraction to him. His loins definitely saw past the scars, eyes focusing instead on the sinfully delicious sight of the boy's entrance. He groaned softly, unable to help but move closer, biting his lip and reaching to touch. The scars created a strange, but not entirely unpleasant texture on Andrew's skin.

His hand continued to fondle the small, young ass as his other moved to his pants, quickly freeing his cock once more. His eyes moved to Andrews face, and he gave a soft noise. Some part of him suddenly understood, though he didn't want to believe that Andrew could have thought he didn't want him anymore. He moved in closer, leaning over him so that he could press their lips together again, his cock grinding between the boy's cheeks. He kept the kiss for a few good moments before pulling back, looking at him with loving, and extremely lusting eyes. "Come on, it'll be more comfortable in my bed." He would have offered to go to Andrew's, but the lubrication was tucked safely under his bed, and he certainly wasn't going to make Andrew's first time dry, no matter how eager he was. He wanted it to be as good for Andrew as it would be for him. He stood slowly, taking Andrew's hand and beginning to lead him to the bedroom.
 
Andrew flushed deeper as he was touched, breathing a moan as he turned his deeply embarrassed face slightly away from his father’s view. He could feel the way his father’s fingers pressed against each of his raised scars, and the fact that his father didn’t seem in the least disgusted by them was profoundly reassuring. As he saw movement and felt his father move closer to his head, he looked toward him, cheeks desperately red with both excitement and lingering shame. A jolt of arousal pulsed through his body to his groin as their lips touched. He was slightly dazed by the action, and thus his father’s words took a moment to settle.

…To his room..?

He wasn’t entirely sure how, but the idea managed to make him anxious. Perhaps it was because things seemed more… official, this way. Fuck, this was weird…

He swallowed as he stood, his free hand moving to pull up his pants as they walked. He kept his gaze low, though also avoided letting it rest on his own groin; his prick was far more than ready, and his eager heart needed the rest of wandering thoughts. He was growing scared, again, the idea of doing such naughty things with his father weighing heavily on his small body.
 
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