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It all starts with an overly nice waitress.
“You and your dad have a good day!” she chirps at Connor, and Hank’s eye twitches.
Connor simply offers a polite greeting in return, not bothering to correct her. It’s a common enough point of confusion to be met with when you’re a couple with an obvious – if somewhat more complicated due to the whole android aspect – age difference, and Connor doesn’t feel like he owes strangers any explanation about his personal life. Not now that he’s a deviant and has rights, which includes rights to his private information.
Hank does sometimes get quite uncomfortable about it, which Connor supposes makes sense, both in the context of the still somewhat murky legal waters of how exactly an android is considered an adult, and also Hank’s personal and tragic history.
It tends to pass quickly, however, usually helped along by the obvious and undeniable adult actions Connor likes to take – every night, if possible – and it does so this time as well. For Hank, at least.
This time, it lingers for Connor, but likely not in the same way it sometimes does for Hank.
“I’ve been doing some research,” Connor says, later on Hank’s couch, and his eyes twinkle with interest as he wipes his mouth after his meal.
“Oh yeah? That kinda night, huh?”
“What kind is that?” Connor asks, though he can probably guess.
Hank leans back into the couch cushions, tossing his napkin into the pile of detritus on the coffee table from his takeaway. “The kind where we’ve had a few days of regular, boring sex and you start looking up new freaky shit to try.” The way Hank says it carries no judgment, which is another thing Connor loves about him.
It had taken a little courage to bring something up the first time, because Hank seems to not care much about branching out in his sexual endeavors. He has a couple of times referred to himself as vanilla, but considering the enthusiasm he exhibits fairly often when Connor finds something new to try, he suspects that, more than anything else, it has been a question of circumstance that Hank never got into the kink scene. Because he sure seems to enjoy a lot of it.
But even when he doesn’t enjoy something, he always lets Connor try everything at least once, fond and patient as Connor learns what he likes. And sometimes also what Hank likes.
It’s been a very interesting relationship so far.
“This morning, that woman assumed you were my father.”
Hank winces. “Ah. Yeah, well,” he says, awkwardly scratching his neck. “People like to make assumptions sometimes. That’s their business, and whatever we do in our lives is ours,” he concludes, seemingly talking to himself as much as Connor.
“The thought makes you uncomfortable.”
“Well yeah, Connor,” he says on a sigh. “I was… back when... you know.”
Connor does know, and doesn’t pressure for anything more. It’s also not necessary for the point he’s trying to make.
“My research indicates that certain traumas can be alleviated by processing the emotions through sexual exploration,” he explains, and Hank gets the telltale frown that says that he probably understands what’s being said, but isn’t sure himself that he’s drawn the correct conclusions.
“Run that by me again?”
“Studies, as well as significant anecdotal evidence, suggest that certain types of trauma can be safely processed and even enjoyed if put in a sexual context. For example, many victims of rape enjoy roleplaying rape scenarios during sex, and while this isn’t necessarily related to healing of the trauma, there’s more than enough evidence to suggest that it can be beneficial for some people.”
Hank stares at him. “Look, whatever trauma I have about… that whole thing? I gotta say I’m not eager to bring that into bed with me, Connor. I might actually draw the line, here.”
Connor takes his hand, eager to offer comfort and assurance. To his relief, Hank accepts the offer, and laces their fingers together.
“I didn’t mean to imply I wanted to bring trauma therapy into our sex life,” Connor explains. “I merely wanted to explain the concept before I tell you what I’m interested in trying. Because it could be relevant, due to your personal history.”
“I appreciate that, but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather we just jump to the sexy part of the conversation.”
“Alright. I was hoping we could try daddy kink.”
Hank bursts out laughing, which frankly takes Connor by surprise. “What’s so funny?”
“Connor, sweetheart, daddy kink isn’t about trauma. I mean, maybe for some people it can be, I dunno. But like… as a kink? It’s just for fun.”
“Even so. I wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be… triggering for you.”
Hank sighs, this time in a far more relaxed and pleasant way, and pulls Connor close for a slow kiss. “I appreciate the hell outta that, baby, I really do. But lemme put it this way. Me calling a grown-ass man baby boy and playing pretend does not make me think of bad times. It makes me think of very good times with my kinky android boyfriend,” he murmurs and kisses Connor again, deeper this time, and Connor sinks into it with a quiet thrill in his mind.
He still loves it when Hank refers to him as boyfriend. Even after months of being a couple, it never seems to lose its glory for Connor.
“You’re so sweet,” Hank whispers as he pulls away a fraction. “Such a sweet boy. You wanna try being a good boy… for Daddy?”
“Yes, please,” Connor says, delighted that Hank seems to be not only on board with trying it, but clearly already having an idea of how it works.
Sometimes he has no idea what Connor is even talking about when he suggests something new to try, and some explaining and even demonstrating is in order. But Hank has a long life behind him already, and what he might be lacking in personal experience he often makes up for with his varied internet search history. And clearly this is something he’s already looked into at some point.
It makes Connor shake from sheer excitement, and Hank strokes his back with soothing hands. “Shh, baby boy, it’s okay. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”
Playing into it feels like the easiest thing in the world, and Connor curls up to make himself seem smaller as he burrows into Hank’s chest with a sigh. “Yes, Daddy.”
Hank sighs again, a little shaky himself on the exhale, and a glimpse down reveals he’s already hardening in his sweatpants. Connor will definitely have to ask more about this later. Much later, when he’s not feeling like something’s about to overheat inside him from how much he wants this right now.
“Baby boy,” Hank mutters again, petting Connor’s hair and pulling him close. “You want Daddy to do bad, bad things to you, huh?”
“Yes, Daddy, please. I want that,” Connor says, nuzzling at Hank’s nipple through his t-shirt, making it a little clumsy, as if it’s not on purpose, hinting at innocence and inexperience.
Hank makes a low, growly hum, deep in his chest, that resonates through Connor’s head, and if he hadn’t already been worked up plenty, he sure would be now from how all his sexual protocols kick off simultaneously. “Such a good boy. How can I refuse you when you ask so sweetly?”
Connor lets out a little whimper in response, only partially on purpose, and Hank tilts his head up for another kiss with a gentle finger on his chin, while his other hand slides down Connor’s back to curl warm and sure around his ass.
“You need Daddy down here?” he asks, and Connor nods, wide-eyed and placid, unlike his usual habit of actively engaging as much as possible. He lets his hands lie flat on Hank’s chest as Hank gropes carefully, letting a finger slip further down and press against Connor’s hole through his soft pajama pants.
“In here?”
“Yes. Please, Daddy,” Connor whimpers and flutters his eyes shut, as if he hasn’t had Hank’s cock, fingers and tongue up there in a hundred different ways already. “I’ve never…” he trails off, and Hank sucks in a breath.
Clearly he appreciates that specific insinuation.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs hotly, lips hovering just out of reach of Connor’s own, teasing him. “You were saving that sweet hole just for me?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Connor whispers, seeking out Hank’s mouth in a clumsy kiss, and winds his arms around Hank’s neck in a lax, hesitant grip.
Hank makes another heated noise, and without warning hoists Connor over to straddle his lap. Connor lets out a deliberate squeak of delight and surprise, and wriggles as he settles, making sure Hank’s cock gets plenty of seemingly accidental stimulation.
“You sure you know what you’re asking for?” Hank asks, voice low, finding Connor’s face with both hands, cradling his cheeks so gently it gives Connor a sudden and unexpected desire to cry. He doesn’t, but he files the notion away for later when it might be fitting to the scenario.
“I’m… maybe? The other boys told me… stories.”
“Stories, huh? What kinda stories?” Hank asks, rubbing Connor’s arms gently, not taking his eyes off Connor’s face for a second.
“Dirty stuff,” he whispers, making a show of biting his lip and avoiding Hank’s gaze. “About how nice it feels when their daddies touch them… in the naughty places.”
Hank nods. “They’re right. It does feel nice. Real nice. Like how you touch yourself when no one’s looking, but better.”
“Daddyyy,” Connor whines, turning his head away. “I don’t do that. That’s… I’m a good boy.”
“Of course you are, baby, of course you are,” Hank soothes. “But Daddy was a boy once too, and it’s okay. It’s just what boys do. It’s perfectly natural, baby.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Hank says softly, reaching up to cup Connor’s cheek again. “Look at me. You’re a good boy. You’re Daddy’s good boy,” he says, and while they’re still definitely within the context of the roleplay, Connor once again feels the urge to weep.
Quite possibly, in his concern for Hank’s trauma, he may have neglected to consider his own feelings.
Huh.
“Now,” Hank says, sitting back a little, and Connor feels saddened by the loss of his closeness. “Tell me what you’d like Daddy to do to you.”
Connor squirms on Hank’s cock, and his hands find Connor’s hips to steady them, so he has no choice but to just sit there under Hank’s burning gaze.
“I… I don’t know. I just want you to make me feel good, Daddy. And… I want to make you feel good too. Will you show me how?” He meets Hank’s gaze directly, eyes open and pleading, and Hank’s hands tighten on his hips.
“Oh, baby. My sweet boy. There’s nothing in this whole world I’d rather do right now.”
Connor isn’t the most lightweight model in the world, having quite a few weighty components added to his frame. But Hank still gets up without bothering to move Connor from his lap, though he does let out a grunt of exertion as he hitches Connor up to wrap his legs around Hank’s waist.
“There we go, baby,” he says on a heavy exhale, and Connor clings to him, as if worried Hank will drop him. He likely won’t. Hank is still a strong and steady man, holding Connor up not quite like a child, but definitely with a sureness that’s very appealing and fitting to the scenario.
Hank kicks the bedroom door closed behind them to avoid Sumo inserting his curious nose into the situation at an awkward moment, and lays Connor down on the bed gently, like he’s a priceless treasure.
“Here we are,” Hank says, only a little out of breath, and laying down next to him, braced on an elbow to stay higher, maintaining the illusion that Connor is a lot smaller than he really is. “Why don’t you get comfortable, hm? You’re gonna get hot, so you should probably take your clothes off.”
Connor fidgets, making a show of looking unsure, and Hank seems to enjoy that, reaching up to gently cup his face again, and stroke his cheekbone with a thumb. “It’s okay. I’ll do it too. See?” he says, and then sits up to pull his t-shirt off.
The sight of Hank shirtless never gets old for Connor, and he takes a moment to just appreciate the wide planes of skin revealed to him. The faded tattoos, the curled chest hair, the soft belly and pale shoulders. It makes him let out a pleasant sigh, and while that wasn’t intentional, it does appear to please Hank.
“See? Much better. Want me to help you?”
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
Hank’s hands are endlessly gentle as he eases Connor out of his soft hoodie and pajama pants. As usual he doesn’t bother with underwear, since he has no natural secretions to worry about, and Hank’s used to it at this point. But this is a different context, and Hank lets out a small sound of surprise.
“I guess my little boy’s been planning this, huh? Did you think about Daddy as you put your nightclothes on?” he asks, hands slinking up Connor’s thighs, near and yet not at all near enough to where he’s already hard. “Did you think of all the dirty, nasty things Daddy could do to you when you picked what to wear?”
Connor squirms, hands twitching like he wants to cover himself but instead just clenches his hands at his sides. “Yes.”
“What things did you think of?” Hank asks, crawling up along Connor’s legs until he’s close enough that Connor can feel his hot, humid breath on the underside of his cock, and it’s a delicious tease.
“Daddy…”
“Tell me, baby.”
“I thought of… you touching me. There.”
“Where? Where, baby boy? Right here?” he asks, this time with a deliberate breath across his cock, and he whimpers. “You wanted me to touch your little boy cock, huh?” he whispers, and Connor arches his back to get his cock closer to those lips.
“Yes, yes, Daddy, please, oh please.”
“You gotta ask me, sweetheart. Gotta be polite, like a good boy.”
“Please, Daddy, touch my little cock. Give it kisses, please.”
Hank rumbles a delighted hum, and lets his nose drag briefly across Connor’s cock head. “Kisses, huh? Oh, baby, you fucking bet I wanna give this pretty little cock some kisses,” he says hotly, and then closes his lips around Connor.
As usual he’s excellent at it, lavishing attention and affection on Connor’s cock. But he also manages to keep it in the scene, closing his mouth around all of Connor’s length seemingly without effort, though he knows for a fact that the genital component he was built with is precisely average, and that Hank usually is perfectly happy with the size of it. But the pretend notion that Connor’s cock is considered tiny makes him feel hot in a way that borders on humiliation, but it also just feels so incredibly good that all Connor can do is let his mouth fall open and moan as Hank goes to town on him.
“Such a pretty little cock,” Hank says as he pulls off, holding Connor’s cock with only two fingers as if that’s all there’s room for, and Connor fidgets again at the scrutiny.
“Daddy, please.”
“Shh, baby, let Daddy look at you. Your little boy cock is growing nicely. And you know what? Daddy’s gonna help it along. You’re gonna have a big ol’ cock some day.”
“Really?” Connor breathes, casting a glance down at where Hank is holding him and jerking him in tiny pulls with his fingers.
“Yeah, baby. But right now you’re still Daddy’s little boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Want some more kisses, baby?”
Connor has to force himself to not just reach for Hank, his hot breath still teasing so very close to his cock. “Yes, oh, Daddy, yes please.”
“Then lie back. Let Daddy take care of you,” Hank says, and Connor is confused for a second, because he is lying down already. But then Hank bends his legs up, and Connor has to throw his head back, because obviously the kissing is going elsewhere now, and this is Connor’s favorite thing.
“Daddyyyy,” he moans, and Hank shushes him again.
“Patience, baby. Patience,” he whispers, swiping his thumb gently across Connor’s dry hole. The thing is, it was not strictly speaking meant to be used for sex. More as a conveniently human-like extra access port. But that also means that when Hank touches him there, or, better yet, penetrates him, there’s nothing more than a thin sheet of silicone compound between Hank’s blood-warm fingers or cock and Connor’s delicate internal components.
There are no sensors on the inside, so if Connor wasn’t aroused it likely wouldn’t feel like much at all. But the knowledge that Hank could so very easily hurt him there, should he choose to, is such a heady thought that it never fails to drive Connor wild. The mere suggestion of Hank’s fingers inching towards his ass makes him shiver on any given day, and with this added layer of pretend superimposed over it, it’s almost unbearable to feel Hank touch him like he’s made of spun glass.
“Please… please, Daddy, please,” Connor begs, and Hank finally take pity on him, and ducks in for a slow, thorough lick, following it up with a sweet peck of a kiss.
“Here you go, baby boy. All the kisses you want,” he whispers, and dives in again, getting his strong tongue as deep as he can while Connor has to battle himself to not thrash around, because it’s so good.
Connor doesn’t need to breathe, but he was made to simulate it, and continues to do so in deviancy. The only difference now is that his emotions will often interfere with the pacing of his breaths, so he pauses and hitches and gasps in a way that’s annoyingly inhuman sometimes. But Hank seems to find it endearing, if not downright arousing, and for every uneven heave of Connor’s chest, Hank presses in harder, finally easing in one of his long fingers in a slow push.
“Daddy!” Connor wails, clutching at the sheets.
“You’re so tight, baby,” Hank murmurs, which isn’t untrue as such, but it’s all the heavier in this context. “Such a tiny hole, baby. We gotta make sure you’re ready for Daddy’s cock.”
Shuddering, not quite deliberately, Connor gets up on his elbows to catch Hank’s gaze.
“You’re really going to put it inside me, Daddy?”
Hank pauses his gentle fingering, and crawls up to kiss Connor’s lips ever so gently. “Sure am, baby boy. If that’s still what you want?”
“Oh yes, please, please Daddy, I want you. I want your big daddy cock inside me.”
“That’s my boy,” Hank growls, and the kiss turns wet and hard for a moment before Hank pulls away again. “But then you gotta be patient. I don’t wanna hurt my precious boy.”
Connor blows out a slow breath he doesn’t need, forcing himself to calm down, even though all he wants to do right now is roll them over and sink down on Hank’s hard cock and ride it until they both scream. The waiting is unexpectedly intense, but it’s what he wanted, it’s what he imagined and pre-constructed while he was bored waiting for a warrant earlier in the day, and Hank is delivering to an extent he couldn’t have imagined.
“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear.”
“I know you will, baby boy, I know,” Hank sighs, and then goes back down. Connor has to clutch his own hair to keep from just jerking off his now neglected cock, aching with all the intercourse protocols going off.
But Hank promised he’d take care of it. Daddy will take care of it.
And he does, oh, how he does. Hank slurps at Connor’s hole, making it wet and warm and soft, easing in another finger a lot more slowly than Connor would like, but that’s part of the game.
“You okay, baby?” Hank asks, and Connor wants to scream at him to get a move on.
“Yes, I think so,” he says instead. He’s supposed to be a young, inexperienced boy here. But he was never a boy, and it’s becoming more of a struggle than he imagined to play the part, and he can feel himself getting vaguely upset about it. Not enough to curb his lust, but enough that he has to wave off more prompts to cry, and it’s getting a little frustrating.
“You think so?” Hank asks, and there’s just enough sincerity in his voice that Connor has to stop the illusion for a second.
“I’m fine, Hank. I’m just experiencing some… unexpected emotions.”
Hank finds his hand and interlaces their fingers. “Bad ones?”
“No. Just unexpected. Would… would tears be a turn off for you?” Connor asks on a whim, and Hank blinks.
“Uhh. Not really? As long as you promise me you’ll let me know if shit gets too intense for you.”
“I promise, Hank,” he says decisively, and then lets his eyes fall halfway closed. “I promise to be good for you, Daddy.”
Hank huffs out a soft laugh. “Alright. Let’s get back to it, then.” Unperturbed, he goes back down, but at least has a shred of mercy, and plunges three fingers inside without further teasing. Connor welcomes it, and moves his hips to meet the gentle thrusts.
“Easy, baby boy, easy,” Hank says, placing a calming hand on Connor’s stomach, forcing him to stop moving as Hank’s fingers delve deep into him.
“Please. Daddy, please,” Connor begs, more than ready to move on from this now. He’s reveling in this tender treatment, but, at the same time, the vague humiliation of being considered something akin to a child burns through him, and he has to toss his head and dismiss error messages left and right as his programming tries to make sense of his conflicting emotions.
“Alright, baby, alright, I got ya,” Hank mutters, kissing Connor’s taut stomach before reaching into the nightstand for the lube. Connor almost wishes he wouldn’t, but that would be painful for Hank and increase the risk of damage to Connor. So that’s for another time, perhaps.
That said, it’s wonderful watching Hank stand up to finally get out of his sweats and boxers, taking himself in hand with a generous amount of lube, and spreading it over his sizable cock while Connor stares at it. He usually does, but he makes sure this time to appear slightly scared, though frankly there’s nothing in the world he wants more right now than to get all of that inside him.
“Do you… do you really think it’ll fit?” he asks, and watches as Hank has to squeeze himself tightly for a moment.
“Well. I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we baby? You’re gonna have to be brave for Daddy,” he says as he crawls back on the bed. Connor finally allows himself to reach for Hank, and pulls him into the cradle of his open legs, almost desperate now to feel Hank in him.
“I will, Daddy, I swear, I’ll be brave, oh please,” he begs, and Hank curses softly as he spreads more lube around Connor’s tight rim.
“You ready, boy? You ready for Daddy’s cock?”
“Yes,” Connor moans, and it comes out almost as a sob, and when Hank finally, goddammit finally, presses the tip of his cock against Connor’s hole, he lets the urge to cry take him over, and tears run silently down his cheeks as Hank slowly pushes inside.
“Shit, baby, breathe for me, that’s my boy, I know it hurts. Almost there, baby, fuck you’re so tight,” Hank babbles, deep in the fantasy, and Connor is right there with him. He wants so badly to be good, to deserve this treatment, to be as small and fragile and new as they’re pretending he is, and he clings to Hank, shaking and weeping as Hank finally bottoms out.
“Shit. Fuck,” Hank hisses, and Connor digs his fingers into Hank’s back.
“Daddy,” he whimpers. “Daddy, it hurts.”
It doesn’t. Not even close, but Hank’s hips jerk seemingly involuntarily before he forces himself to still. “I know, baby,” he gasps. “I know, sweetheart. It’ll pass, I promise. We just… gotta wait a second. Fuck.”
“Does it… does it feel good for you, Daddy?”
“Oh, baby,” Hank moans, finding Connor’s lips in an open, filthy kiss. “Oh, you have no idea how good it feels for Daddy. You’re so tight, jesus.”
Connor lets out a little sob, and more tears flow down his cheeks as he nuzzles into Hank’s shoulder. “It still hurts a little, Daddy. But I need… I think I need…”
“You need this?” Hank asks and makes the tiniest thrust inside the tightly stretched sheath that protects Connor’s insides. It makes metaphorical sparks fly, and Connor whines at the sensation.
“Yes, Daddy! Please do that more, please!”
Hank kisses him again, tongue reaching in deep, and Connor opens up to it, head head falling back as he invites Hank in as blatantly as he can.
“Okay, baby, okay. You ready? You ready to get fucked?” Connor doesn’t answer, just nods and lets his legs fall wide open in invitation, and when Hank starts thrusting, there’s no force on Earth that could stop Connor’s cries.
“DADDY!” he wails, and Hank grunts low and deep in his gut with every thrust, slamming in with no regard for all the supposed caution they just played with. He’s clearly at his limit, and so is Connor, shouts being punched out of him every time Hank bottoms out. The sounds they’re making are simply obscene, with the wet slaps of Hank’s thrusts, Connor’s unrestrained screaming, and Hank’s only slightly more restrained moans and groans.
“Oh fuck, baby,” Hank gasps. “You ready? You ready for Daddy to come in your little ass?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Connor sobs on every thrust, his own cock completely forgotten, right up until the moment that Hank’s hand closes around it, and Connor comes in only a couple of strokes, bucking and crying under Hank as he keeps thrusting mercilessly.
“Almost… fuck, almost… here it comes, baby boy. Here it comes.” The words sound almost wrenched out of Hank’s throat, and he stutters out a broken moan as he finally slams in deep and stays for a long, breathless moment, and then pumps again, and again, and one last time.
Connor clings to him as he’s filled, and the tears just will not stop flowing, but it’s good, it’s right. It’s how it’s supposed to be. He assumes this is what human mean when they call crying cathartic.
He feels lightened, almost floaty, although that could be partly because of how well he was just fucked. He’s still fritzing on the edges of his display from the force of his orgasm, and there’s a pretty noticeable glitch across his vision when Hank finally pulls out, and a gush of his come follows.
“Jesus, Connor,” Hank wheezes, taking a moment to just stay on all fours, shaking and breathing before looking up at Connor’s tear-streaked face. “Shit, you sure you’re okay?”
“More than okay,” Connor assures him, pulling him up for a slow and satisfied kiss. “And you?”
“Holy fuck, Connor, that was fucking fantastic.” He drops down heavy next to Connor, and immediately spoons up behind him. He may sometimes claim to want to just sleep after sex, but even in sleep he will always cuddle up to Connor after they fuck, and Connor would be a liar as well as a deviant if he tried to claim he doesn’t love it as well.
“We should do that again.”
“Christ,” Hank huffs, but a laugh follows it. “Yeah, I mean, I’m sure as hell not gonna argue. But maybe give it a day or two, or I’ll have a fucking heart attack.”
“Of course.” He waits a moment until all his errors are finally gone from his vision, and then figures he should come clean before Hank falls asleep. “In the interest of full disclosure, however… I may have certain emotions I need to figure out beforehand.”
Hank’s hands clench on Connor’s chest. “Please don’t tell me the crying was real.”
“Oh, no, Hank I was perfectly fine, nothing hurt, it was wonderful. But the tears were not… entirely deliberate. I may have some unresolved issues in regards to…” he trails off, because in regards to what exactly? “I’m not quite sure yet.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Hank says, sounding steady and comforting like always does, and instantly makes Connor feel better. “As long as you don’t do anything you don’t like.”
“I liked this very much. Very much indeed, Hank.”
Hank laughs again, his chest bouncing slightly behind Connor, and it’s wonderful in its familiarity. “Good. That’s all I need to know. You kinky little bastard.”
“Pot and kettle Hank. You seemed to have an awfully firm grasp of what this particular kink entailed.”
“Hm. No comment,” Hank grumbles, and it’s Connor’s turn to laugh.
“I’m not complaining.”
Pulling him close, Hank noses at his nape. “That’s what I love about you. Never complain about anything.”
“Why does that sound disingenuous?”
“Because it is. Goodnight, Connor.”
Connor reaches out to turn off the bedside lamp, and smiles into the darkness. “Goodnight, Daddy.”
“Goddammit.”
End.