Work Text:
11 years old
He told himself that this was sex education. If he didn't talk to his son about what he was seeing in porn—which aspects of it were fake, unrealistic, misogynistic, harmful—he would develop a skewed idea of what real and healthy sex was actually like. And in order to talk about the problematic parts of porn, he needed to show him examples. Which of course made the poor kid hard. And who can focus on learning something when they're hard? So he told his son to take care of it, because there was nothing shameful about masturbating, and then they could keep talking afterwards about what they had seen and any issues with it.
But watching his son jacking off with porn playing made him hard too, and if he wanted to make the point that masturbating isn't shameful, shouldn't he just do it as well?
He got out his cock and started stroking, right beside his preteen son doing the same thing. The boy came looking at it.
13 years old
He told himself that he wanted to be sure his son had a positive experience his first time. The first time he himself had sucked a cock, well over two decades ago, the much older boy had held his head down on his cock until he couldn't breathe, and then he'd fucked his face so hard it hurt. And since it was his first time, he had thought maybe that's just how a blowjob is supposed to be, and didn't feel like he could speak up for himself. It was scary and humiliating.
He wouldn't let that happen to his son. So he offered to teach him the polite way to suck and be sucked, and how to communicate his wants and limits.
He sucked his son first, going slow to not overwhelm him. He kept his eyes fixed on his son's as he slowly slid his lips down his small dick, watching his reactions. It was wonderful to see the pleasure overspreading his beautiful young face, to know he was bringing him this pleasure. And he'd never felt so connected to him as he did with their eyes locked together and part of his body inside of him.
Then his son sucked him, and that was wonderful too, his beautiful watery eyes gazing up at him for his approval. He stroked his hair and cooed praises at him: "You're doing so well. Yes, just like that, that feels fantastic. You're so good. I love you, Son."
15 years old
He told himself his son needed it for comfort. The poor kid had just gotten dumped for the first time, and he was crying in his dad's arms. Because he felt unwanted, ugly, defective—his ex-boyfriend had never fucked him, even though he'd given him the opportunity to, so he must be repulsive, or his dick was too small, or something else was wrong with him.
So he took his son to his bed to comfort him and show him how wanted he was. He wrapped their naked bodies up in each other and kissed him and kissed him—soft, tender, cherishing. His hands caressed his young body, showing him that he was beautiful through the worshipful way he touched him. He was in no rush as he stretched him gently, first with his tongue, then his fingers—he would take as long as needed to make sure his son felt no pain when he took his virginity. And right as he sunk into him, he stared into his eyes and said, "I will always love you."
He kept saying it the entire time they made love. He held his son's face as he slowly brought their bodies together again and again, gentle but deep, delving as far inside him as he could. He was in awe that he'd created this beautiful body out of his own, from the very cock that was joined with him now. "You're perfect, son," he told him.
"I love you, Dad," he moaned in reply, and it was such an unusual statement to hear a teenager offer up to his parent without prompting that it made him tear up. He wrapped his arms around him, bringing their faces and bodies close together as their hips rolled as one. He could see his son's love for him shining in his eyes, and fed all the love he could into his own eyes as he smiled down at him.
"Do you want me to come inside you, Son?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yes, Dad, please fill me."
He buried himself deep inside the tight embrace of the boy's hole and let go, flooding his son with the same seed that had made him.
17 years old
He told himself he wasn't jealous of his son's boyfriend. He was happy that his son was happy. The boyfriend seemed like a good kid, and they obviously had fun together—the sound of their fucking filtering out of the boy's bedroom was unmistakable. It was good for his son to mess around with other kids his age and learn how to navigate a romantic relationship.
But he was lonely. He missed spending time with his son. He missed fucking his son. He missed their unique connection.
He couldn't take it anymore. He snuck into his son's room, got behind him in bed, slid into his ass while he was asleep. It was still loose and lubed from the pounding his boyfriend had given him before bed. He didn't care that the boyfriend was sleeping right there too, he just needed his boy. But as he started pumping his cock in and out of his heat, he woke up, cried out—and that woke up the boyfriend too.
He didn't give the kid any time to think through what was happening in front of him, just said, "Take his mouth." The boyfriend's eyes went wide, but he did it, feeding his cock between the son's lips. And just like that, they were spit-roasting his son, and it was rough but it was intimate somehow, both of his lovers showing him how important he was to them by filling his holes with their cocks, claiming him for both of them.
After they both came inside him, he left the two teenagers alone, went and slept alone in his bed. But the next morning, he was half-woken by the feeling of someone crawling in beside him, lifting his arm to put it around him, snuggling close. He smiled against his boy's hair.
19 years old
He told himself he wasn't in love with his son. He loved him, but he wasn't in love with him. That wouldn't be fatherly.
He knew everything sexual he'd done with his son wasn't fatherly, despite what he'd told himself at the time to justify it. He'd always known. But having a sexual relationship was one thing, and having a romantic relationship was another. Out of everything he'd done, that was a line too far. It wasn't healthy. His son deserved to leave this part of his life behind him now that he was an adult, to have a proper relationship with some other man or woman, maybe have kids of his own someday. And he needed to move on too, find someone middle-aged like himself to partner with.
But when his son rode him, looking down at him with stars in his eyes, like he thought his dad hung the moon, it was hard to think of anything except how vast his love was for him. How could he ever have a deeper love or closer connection to some other person? There would never be anyone else who he cared for as much as his son.
He was the love of his life.
21 years old
He told himself this was best for both of them. They couldn't live without each other, but they couldn't live as a couple either, not here, where so many people knew they were father and son. They had to move, had to get new jobs, get new identities. It was worth it, to be together—in every way.
The moment he heard the officiant say "I now pronounce you husband and husband" was the happiest of his life, except perhaps for the moment he'd heard the doctor say "It's a boy!" He kissed his son-husband so hard their teeth clacked together, making them both laugh.
He couldn't afford a honeymoon after all the expense of moving and acquiring new identities, but his son insisted he didn't mind, he was just happy to be married. However, he did splurge on a nice hotel room for their wedding night, and as soon as they were inside, the suits were shed and the bed was broken in.
He'd fucked his son's ass countless times by then, but the moment he first entered him as his husband took his breath away. "Yes, Dad, fuck your husband," his son encouraged him, and he did, he fucked his husband, his son, his soulmate.
"I love being inside you, Son," he murmured as he rolled his hips and got his hand around his son's cock to stroke it in the same sensual rhythm.
"I'm yours, Dad. Yours forever."
Yes, he was. He might still share his son's body with other men and women from time to time, but that was just pleasure. This, this was love.
This was right.
This couldn't be wrong.
That's what he told himself.