Quillon's Covert (10 page)

His son’s head shook back and forth again. “No. I think I know what you’re doing, Dad, and even though I appreciate it—”

“Can I touch you?” Martin interrupted.

“Huh?”

“I’m asking if I can touch you, Marty.”

“Since when do you need to ask permission?”

Martin took a small step to close the gap between them and rested his hands on the outsides of Marty’s upper thighs, his fingers curving behind his son’s back and landing just above the swell of his ass.

“Since the way I planned on touching you is in a way I’ve never done before.”

Marty’s head shook again. “Dad,” he whispered, “you can’t. I don’t think you understand.
I love you
. And as much as I’d like to, I won’t let you do this to try to fix things. I promise, I’ll be okay. I just need some time. We just—
I
—just have to find a way of dealing with the passing of a dream.” Marty snorted. “Now if that doesn’t sound fucking dramatic, I don’t know what does.”

Martin ignored his son’s well-meaning comments and decided it was time to man up, to say what he’d been relentlessly turning over in his mind for months.

“Marty, I’m not gay.”

“Dad, I know—”

“No, please let me finish. I’m not gay, but…but I love you more than anyone. Probably more than I should, in fact. But that’s beside the point. The point is…” Martin’s confidence faltered for a moment, but he plowed ahead. “The point is, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to love you exactly the same way in return, the thought of being
that
close to you, of
sharing
something so…intimate with you, it’s very appealing. Very. And, honestly, I’d be honored. Beyond honored.”

The trembling in Marty’s body couldn’t be missed.

“D?”

“Yep, right here, Buddy”

“Cuh-cuh-can I touch you?”

“Um, so I’m guessing it’s not your fingers nudging my thigh, then?”

Marty smiled briefly before bringing his fingers up to run along Martin’s jaw. “Are you saying it’s okay for me…to love you? I mean, that you’re cool with that? And that we’re gonna…” Marty stopped and waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll never ask you not to love me, son. How could I, when I love you more than what’s probably appropriate? And as far as…the other,” he said with a goofy grin, “I think I’d enjoy trying. But I don’t know much about…gay dude sex.”

Marty laughed. “What’s to know? Tab A goes into Slot B.”

“Yeah, well so long as mine is Tab A, and yours is Slot B…” Martin said with a smile.

His son’s fingers slid down his neck and came to rest on his collarbone, and he stepped closer, their bodies lightly brushing one another’s thighs and groins and chests. “You’ll tell me if…if you’re uncomfortable, right?”

Martin looked into his son’s loving eyes. “I promise, if you’ll promise to do the same.”

God, Martin couldn’t believe he was standing here, touching his son in an incredibly intimate way—and enjoying it—and talking about sex. Talking about the two of them
having
sex. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to ask it, but he had to.

“Son, don’t you feel…like this is wrong? That it’s somehow…perverted?”

Marty shook his head. “I don’t, Dad. I’ve had years to think about this. I know what I want, and I’m sure of how I feel. But, I guess the more important question is does it feel wrong to you?”

Martin wanted to ask if Marty had also thought about his mother. He wanted to ask what he thought it’d do to Allie if they went ahead with this and she ever found out, what it’d do to their family. But Martin knew his son, knew the kind of person he was. Of course Marty had thought about those things, and Martin didn’t feel it was right to make those inquiries. No, if they moved forward with this—and it certainly seemed like that’s what was happening—then they’d each have to deal with Allie in their own individual way. Admittedly, Marty had had years to think about this, where Martin had only had twelve months. But, he’d thought of little else in his quiet, alone times, and he’d come to a decision, a decision he was at peace with. If Marty wanted to move forward, Martin felt he was as ready as he’d ever be, and he’d allow them both to deal with their respective decisions and consciences privately.

When he didn’t answer right away, Marty ran his hands over Martin’s furry chest. “You are the kindest person I know. There’s not a single thing I’d change about you. Not one. Make no mistake, I do love you, and I’ve thought of this moment since I was fourteen. If it ends up happening…there’s no one I’d rather share my first experience with than you.”

Martin considered his son’s words. Did this moment feel wrong? He became a bit more daring and allowed his palms to trace the curve of his son’s ass, and had to admit, nothing felt wrong about that. Before he could contemplate any further, Marty’s last words sunk in; he’d be his first?

“You’re a virgin?” he asked in surprise. “What about the boys you’ve been dating?”

Marty mimicked his dad’s touch and ran his hands tentatively over Martin’s firm ass.

“Kissing. All I ever did was kiss the boys I dated. And not even all of them. I wuh-wuh-wanted to wait.”

Martin’s dick continued to swell and nudged against his son’s. “To wait for me?”

Marty’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “What’s wrong with waiting for the one you love?”

Marty / 18

“You’re kinda freaking out a bit, aren’t you?”

“About…?”

Marty pulled his leg out from under him on the couch and sat both feet on the floor from where his dad looked up at him. “About having sex with the child you sired?”

Martin dropped his eyes to the floor. Marty felt like he had to take some of the lead, or they might just sit here all night. He placed a soft palm on his dad’s shoulder, and spoke slowly. “Dad, we agreed, right? Whatever happens, no awkwardness.”

His dad’s shoulders lifted, and he blew out a quiet sigh through his nose. He looked up at Marty and smiled.

Although this was difficult for him, too, taking more of a lead like this, Marty had to acknowledge that he’d had years to think this through; his dad, on the other hand, hadn’t. Whatever Marty was going through, there was no doubt it had to be harder on Martin than it was on him.

“I…we…you didn’t…I wasn’t sure—”

Marty leaned forward and placed a single finger to his dad’s lips. The touch stilled Martin immediately. The role reversal initially shocked them both. However, it passed and was quickly replaced by one of shared solidarity and affection. Martin wrapped calloused, weather beaten fingers around Marty’s hand and gently landed a tender kiss to the tip of his finger.

When Martin finally spoke, Marty was impressed with both his clarity, as well as his honest sincerity. “Yeah, watching you beat off last year, while looking at me—staring at me—freaked me out a bit. I mean, I couldn’t help but imagine what you must have been thinking. But then we went back home, got back to our lives, and the more I thought about it, the more used to the idea I got.” Martin paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing on. “I’ve thought about that night a lot, Marty. A lot. Mulled it over in my mind, turned it over this way and that, studied it from every angle I could think to study it from. And then, after a while, I don’t know…it just started to seem less weird. I wanted to talk to you about it, but talking about it away from here seemed wrong. And then we had sorta stopped talking in general.” His dad’s shoulders lifted in another small shrug. “I guess you might be surprised, but loads of straight guys crush on their moms. So…”

Marty softly chuckled. “Okay, that last part was just random…and
eew
.”

Martin didn’t join in on the joke. “Point is, after thinking about it, I didn’t find it all that strange anymore. You’re gay, so it’s kind of the same thing, right?”

Marty furrowed his brows. “Wait. I don’t want this to be some sort of pity thing,” he said as honestly as he could. “You feeling sorry for the gay son crushing on you, or something, so you—”

Martin shook his head firmly. “No, that’s not what this is. Just let me talk, okay? Let me try to articulate this.”

Marty snapped his mouth shut and kept his eyes on his dad’s serious face.

Martin scratched his chin fiercely while staring off in the distance. “You’ve grown into a handsome man, there’s no doubt about that. When you walked past me on your way to baseball practice, or when you came back from swimming practice, I couldn’t help but appreciate the man you’d grown into. When you were in the bathroom at home, and you took longer than necessary in the shower, my mind drifted. It took me a while, Marty, but like I said out on the dock, I honestly want to share this with you. I really do, son. And, the fact that you saved yourself for this? For me? It blows my mind, and God help me, but it just makes it that much more meaningful.”

“D?”

Martin smiled up at him reassuringly. “Yep, right here, Buddy.”

“Will you kuh-kuh-kiss me?”

Martin started to rise to his haunches but Marty didn’t give him the chance to bridge the gap. Instead, he shot forward and pummeled his father to the floor. They landed awkwardly with him sprawled out on Martin’s beefy chest. Marty pushed up, and straddling Martin’s waist, he hovered his lips just above his father’s.

“I’ve never kissed a guy older than me,” Marty said softly.

Martin spoke against Marty’s mouth. “I’ve never kissed a guy before…period. Well, except for last year, but that really wasn’t—”

Marty leaned forward and sealed a kiss he’d dreamt of for years. He’d heard people being asked what their first kiss was like. It seemed they tried to come up with an apt story that lived up to other first-kiss stories. Fireworks. Explosions. Violins. But, in Marty’s experience, the reality of highly anticipated events rarely lived up to the expectation. Yet some people were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of perfection, to live the cliché, and Marty felt certain that’s exactly the way he’d look back on this moment.

Their evening beards scratched against one another as he pressed his lips against his dad’s. Thank God he’d had plenty of practice and was confident he wouldn’t come across as a novice. At the first opportunity, he sucked Martin into his mouth, tasted his father, and got lost in the feeling of their tongues sliding along each other. Martin sucked harder, dominating Marty’s tongue, leaving little doubt as to who was in charge.

As Marty reveled in the dichotomy of Martin’s tender kneading of his ass, and the urgent tongue exploring his mouth, he was nearly overwhelmed at the millions of sensations coursing through his body and mind, sensations he’d never forget. Here was the man who’d known him from the day he was born, who’d helped him through the measles, and popped his zits, and bought him his first car, and was helping him fill out college applications. Now he and that same guy, that same amazing man, were making love.

He was incredibly lucky and he knew it. He had the love of a wonderful father and a beautiful man, but this coupling would bring them full circle. Some people lived and died without ever knowing either, and Marty understood that no matter what might happen in the future, he and his father would now truly know one another. They’d always have this amazing moment.

Eventually the kiss broke with a gasp for air. Martin opened his eyes, and for a moment Marty wondered if the same lust was reflected in his eyes that burned in his dad’s. It was so intense that it very nearly robbed Marty from the little breath he’d been able to recover.

“What are you thinking?” Martin asked through quieting huffs.

“I’m thinking if that’s the way you look at Mom…”

Martin sat forward, caught Marty’s back with strong hands, and then rested him against the couch. After another intense kiss, he broke away and rested their foreheads together.

Martin closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Marty watched his father’s expression grow serious, almost pensive. “Mom is the last thing I wanna think about right now. Okay?”

Marty nodded in understanding and brought his lips back to Martin’s. “Got it.”

His father’s woodsy, musky smell stole his attention, and it wasn’t something he could resist. He began working his way over Martin’s rough chin, and finally down along his stubbled neck.

When Martin lay back down, giving Marty room to move, Marty followed him, landing nipping kisses on his father’s collarbones. Those collarbones had been the constant bane of Marty’s life, and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d imagined running his tongue over them. How many times, he wondered as he moved farther down, had he also dreamed of tasting his dad’s perfect nipples? His tongue swirled around one, and he closed his lips around the soft brown flesh, sucking until it stood hard. When he pulled back and blew on the wet nub, his dad’s back arched.

“Not funny,” Martin said through clenched teeth. Marty couldn’t help but smile. It must be a Quillon trait, having incredibly sensitive nipples; Marty had barely been able to touch his own since puberty without getting hard. He’d even experimented with shirts made of different materials in an effort to keep his nipples from torturing his every waking moment. By the looks of it, Martin was the same way, and he planned on exploiting everything that gave his dad pleasure.

He moved down the flat, furry ridges of his dad’s stomach and took in the rich muskiness of Martin’s center. The involuntary tightness in his throat suddenly stopped Marty’s descent just short of the prize that had filled his dreams.

“What’s wrong?” Martin immediately asked.

“Nothing,” Marty continued downwards, kissing the ridges of his dad’s abs, while not being able to control his own shaking.

“Marty?”

When Marty didn’t respond, but continued his way down, Martin slid a finger under his chin. “Hey, Sport, hold up. What’s wrong? Why the shaking?”

“Nuh-nuh-not shaking.”

Martin ran a hand through his hair, and Marty knew the mood was now truly fucked.

“Uh-huh,” Martin said slowly and tried to catch Marty’s eye. “If you’ve changed your mind, or—”

“No,” Marty reassured quickly. “Fuck, no. I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.”

Martin hunched his shoulders. “Okay. Then...?”