Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter was getting off the train, his luggage in hand. Despite being away for almost two weeks, he had only taken one suitcase with him. Taking a breath of fresh air, he could immediately tell - he was home. The train station was small as the town was quite rural. Yet this helped with the air quality - there was no smog, no smoke, nothing but fresh air. The rustic and in some spots derelict station was right beside the forest, which was verdant at this time of the year. Lost in thought, Peter walked towards the station exit at a leisurely pace, enjoying the slow feel his home brought with it. That is when he felt a warm body firmly attach to his.

It was so fast, he couldn't even react. Two bulking arms wrapped around his chest, as a man's pecs pressed against his back. A rough jungle of facial hair was planted firmly onto the right side of his neck and he could feel hot breath waft past his ear. All of this became familiar in a split second - he knew exactly who this was. And the scent of an expensive cologne - a mix of sandalwood, oak and saffron - only helped jog his memory.

"Welcome home, sonny," Henry said, pressing his torso closer against his son's back, "I've missed ya."

"I've only been away for barely two weeks, pa," Peter said with a smile growing on his lips. Despite what he said, he was happy to see his dad welcome him in such a manner.

"Sonny, please, ya know how I get when yer away for even a day. Two weeks is a nightmare," he said, releasing his son from his steel embrace and his hand reached for the suitcase instead, "I'mma take this, thanks."

"Pa, c'mon now, I can carry that perfectly fine on my own," Despite the content of the sentence, the annoyance seemed to only be in the words, as his voice carried no other feeling than joy.

"Well, then I'll be able to carry it perfectly fine as well," Henry said yanking the case out of his son's hands, "Thank ya again, now come on."

Before Peter could get another word in, his dad was already briskly strutting away towards the exit. Only now could Peter see his entire get-up. A fancy dress shirt with trousers that fit the aesthetic. Along with it was the cologne his dad described to be "only for special occasions" and hair styled to be sleek compared to its usual messy state. One would think Henry was getting ready for a wedding or other formal occasion... were it not for the shoes. The shoes weren't dirty or broken or anything, but they were very clearly suited for the outdoors. Peter wasn't sure his dad even owned formal footwear. Ignoring that, he knew his dad was planning something. He wasn't sure if he would like the surprise that was coming his way, but he'd certainly try for his father's sake.

Catching up quickly with his dad, they walked alongside each other. Despite the excitement both of them were feeling, no words were exchanged, as they basked in simply being with one another again. Occasionally they could feel their hands brush against each other as they walked - something that made them grin a bit. The time they spent apart wasn't too big, but they certainly perceived it as torturous.

Both of them, without any sign to the other, had slowly sped up their walking pace into what was almost a run. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the luggage was safely stowed away in the trunk of the car and both men were comfortably seated on the worn, but homely covers. Henry turned his face towards his returning son, pure joy written all over it.

"I'd like to get home as soon as possible, if ya don't have any other plans that'd get in the way, 'f course," Henry said, with a certain pushiness mixed with a tinge of anxiety coating his words.

"Nah pa, I wouldn't've scheduled something for the day I return back. Y'know how tired I get from travelling," Peter said while stretching his body out, as if to emphasize his point.

Henry's eyes couldn't help but instantly roam over the stretched body. Clothes so disheveled they left a few spots of skin visible to the pervy eye. And oh boy were his eyes pervy. He didn't have to watch the road until the car was turned on, so he made sure to use every second until then to inspect his returning lover. Yes, they may not have been apart for too long, but with how close the two of them were, can anyone really blame them for taking it this seriously?

"Honeybuns, ya need to start the car if we're to get home today," Peter said with a smirk on his lips.

Henry flushed slightly at the remark, as he had been busted for staring, but it was quite clear Peter did not mind. There was little Henry could do at this point that would have made Peter creeped out, to be honest - after all, they've been an item for quite some time. With reddish cheeks and a warm smile on his lips, he turned the key to start the engine. Its purr only got him more excited.

The drive to their shared home wasn't too long, but it certainly felt like ages to Henry. The reason? Peter was inspecting him very closely. Now, he couldn't exactly stare back, as he had to keep his eyes on the road, but from his peripheral he saw the intense way his son was scrutinizing him. And unbeknownst to Henry, Peter had a lot to look at. Not only did he enjoy to see his dad in the flesh again, but slight concern brewed in him as he peered at him closely. He had a toothpaste blot on his shirt; the bags under his eyes were colossal, especially when compared to the tired tiny slits his eyes seemed to have become over Peter's two week absence; his beard had some leftover bread crumbs in it from what Peter assumed was breakfast; and so on.

Henry found his son's staring quite disrupting and decided to speak up.

"While I appreciate yar staring, could it please wait 'till we get home? I don't think I can keep my eyes on the road if ya keep looking at me like that, and I'd rather not cause a crash, especially with ya involved, thank ya very much."

Peter snapped out of his semi-trance before nodding, looking at his surroundings instead. But what he had seen still bothered him, and he sure as hell wasn't about to let it go.

The ride itself proceeded without a hitch. Soon Henry was parking their car into their garage, which was situated as a separate building next to their house. It was a small place, but very comfortable and homey - not to mention the giant yard that came with it. And Peter loved seeing it again after he had been away. Arguably not for long, but still too long for him. Henry was just as excited, as was evident on the speed with which he exited the car and opened the trunk, grabbing the baggage before slamming the trunk close again.

"C'mon, move that ass of yars. I wanna lock the car."

There was no actual haste in Henry's voice, but Peter really appreciated hearing his dad again like this. Not just through the phone, for a couple of minutes each day, but live, booming, with that specific twang only Henry seemed to be able to muster. It really did feel good to be home.

As he exited the car, Henry was already prepared, holding the keys in his hand, pressing the "Lock" button as soon as the door was closed. With a spring in his step, he trotted off to the front door, replacing the car keys with the house keys which he laboriously fished out of his pocket. His son was always only a few steps away - matching his pace and walking straight behind him.

The front door opened to the hallway both men knew too well, and the suitcase was promptly set onto the wooden flooring. Peter closed the oaken door behind the two of them. As soon as it clicked shut, he was swept up into another powerful bear hug. This time, a lot closer and a lot tighter.

"It feels good to have ya back, sonny."

"Pa, once again, it's been like two weeks. I missed ya too, but it really ain't that terrible."

Peter chuckled slightly as he turned around with great effort, wiggling while constricted by two giant hairy arms. He put his own arms around his father's body as well, pulling the two of them even closer. His head was on his dad's shoulder and vice versa. He could smell sweat over the cologne now - how he had missed it.

Neither of them seemed to be in any rush to break the embrace, but the younger of them eventually (after a good minute or two of silence) did pull away a bit, at which point Henry let his arms fall too. They proceeded to stare into each other's eyes now.

Seeing Henry's eyes up close like this made them seem even more exhausted. The pupils were quite dilated, the lids creeping into the eyes, as if struggling not to shut them.

"Pa, ya alright? I don't mean to be rude, cross my heart, but ya look like shit."

The only response he got was a slight smile with closed eyes. That was before his dad grabbed his head by the hair and gently pulled his son's face towards his own. Henry's lips hovered above Peter's, he was hesitant to close the gap, leaving the decision up to his lover whether he wanted to reciprocate or not. Oh, and how he did. Peter only left the unspoken question linger for a second or two before bridging the gap speedily and powerfully - slamming his own lips against his dad's. Yet the proceeding kiss was quite gentle. They slowly enjoyed the warmth of each others breaths, letting their tongues lazily mingle with one another, neither pushing too deep or too forcefully. Their beards scraped against each other in a satisfying scratchy feeling as their hands found the way into their hair, gently tugging and pulling at it, while also pushing their heads even closer together. Only once every thirty seconds or so did they briefly pull apart to catch air before diving into each other's lips again.

This went on for a few minutes, before they seemingly telepathically agreed that it was enough. They pulled away slowly, longingly, before standing face to face with each other again. This time, Henry spoke up.

"I missed ya, hun. My kisser missed ya too."

"Don'tcha worry, I ain't going away again anytime soon, honeybuns. But why don't we get back to my question, hm? Why do ya look like shit? Are ya sick?"

Peter was speaking with a relatively lax tone, his voice chipper and boomy, yet Henry knew that ultimately, there was concern behind these words, and he felt bad for making his son worry.

"Nah, I just can't sleep without ya, but ya already knew that. I toss and turn in bed each night, struggling to fall asleep, and I wake early, patting at yar side of the bed, but ya ain't there. No worries, though, I do still get some shut-eye. Just not as much as I'd like."

Henry's brows lowered, his eyes sheepish, the crease between them looking pronounced. His lips turned upwards in a half-hearted attempt at an apologetic smile, but what he said was not new information to Peter. More like a frustrating quirk of Henry's. The reaction was of the same vein - a short sigh, followed by a mimicry of Henry's facial expression.

"What am I to do with ya, old man," Peter said calmly, followed by him grabbing his dad's hand, "So how about we get some shut-eye now then, hm? It may be early in the evening, but I could use some sleep too, truth be told."

Henry, however, in a quick and fluid motion started walking towards the dining room, pulling Peter with him by their joined hands.

"While that sounds lovely, I actually have one more thing I need to do. And I need ya to do it with me, hun."

Peter's eyes opened wide as his eyebrows rose in surprise, yet said nothing and followed his dad without resistance. As the door to the dining room (which also doubled as a kitchen) opened, he saw quite a romantic sight - the table had been set with two plates, both accompanied with matching cutlery, a single white candle standing tall and proud in the middle, placed in an ornamental brass candle stand - all of this sat upon red table cloth which was draped over the wood in an orderly fashion. For the second time in a minute Peter's face took on the expression of surprise.

Henry only chuckled at his son's lack of response, "Surprise! Yar old man may be old school, but that doesn't make me try any less, I assure ya. Now siddown."

Peter stood at the door for a while, before finally deciding to move and seating his behind on the chair which Henry had gallantly pulled out for him. As soon as he was sat, Henry went over to the kitchen area and pulled out a casserole from the oven. It smelt of a variety of things, but primarily of a delicious and home-made meal. As soon as he put it onto the table, he grabbed a match box from a nearby counter and carefully lit the candle, before throwing the match into the sink, gently tossing the matchbox at the nearest counter and seating himself across of Peter.

"Feel free to serve yaself as much as ya'd like, hun. I made extra just in case ya come home hungry like a bear," Henry said with a happy boom, putting some of the casserole onto his own plate as well.

Peter did go trough the motions of putting food on his plate and slowly starting to shovel it into his stomach, but his mind was elsewhere. He felt both abashed at such an unexpected romantic gesture, yet also melting at how sweet this all was. The entirety of the dinner itself happened in complete silence if not for the clacking of utensils on their plates. Henry promptly got up as they finished eating and took both of their plates and cutlery before unceremoniously dumping it into the sink. While he was at it, he stored the rest of the uneaten casserole dish into the fridge. At that point, Peter had also stood up and blown out the candle. The two of them just sort of stood there, unsure of what to do next.

"So... wanna go to sleep now? Or did ya have something else planned?" Peter asked.

"Nah, we can go. I'll admit, I nearly dozed off a few times while eating," Henry said, laughing, "What can I say, having you here again is making me wanna make up on all that missed sleep."

While moving out of the dining room and walking up the stairs into the bathroom, they had started undressing as well - unbuttoning their shirts, loosening their belts, unzipping their pants. By the time they entered the room, they were ready to take it all off in one fell swoop. Only their underwear and undershirt remained. They put them into the clothes hamper before looking at the shower.

"Say, would ya mind if I shower in the morning? I feel like I'mma keel over if hot water hits me at this point," Henry said followed by a yawn.

"Nah, I'm fine with just brushing and then hitting the hay. The train tired me out 's well."

"So ya won't mind sleeping next to a stinking heap?" Henry teased.

"Will I mind? Oh, I'll enjoy it. It's been a whole two weeks since I last saw ya, pops, ain't anything I mind about ya right now, trust me."

The only response was a short laugh, before the two grabbed their respective toothbrushes. Sure, brushing one's teeth is quite a normal part of a person's routine, but the two of them relished in being able to do mundane things with one another again. But Peter wasn't just brushing, he was also thinking. Quite deeply, at that, considering he was running his brush over one tooth for a good minute now. The confused look from his lover snapped him out of it temporarily and he quickly finished up.

As Henry walked in front of Peter on the way to their bedroom, the latter decided to finally speak up.

"So, pops, tell me, what's with ya today?"

"Whatd'ya mean?"

"Y'know, the suit... the dinner... all of that."

"I just wanted to surprise ya. Treat ya to something nice. We can't really go out on a date as a couple, can we now, so I guess I just wanted to make ya feel special for a bit."

Henry followed his response with a slight shrug, keeping his hand on the bedroom door handle this entire conversation. But Peter still wasn't convinced completely.

"While I know yer a sweetheart, honeybuns, loads of my chums only treat their ladies to s'methin' like this if they wanna apologize or if they wanna smash. Ya sure ya ain't wanna do neither?"

Flustered by this response and a bit offended too, Henry could only reply: "Peter! I'd hope we're close enough at this point to not need a suit and dinner to 'fess up if we'd wanna apologize. And I wouldn't use them for making ya do the deed with me, either. Who do ya think I am?"

"Aww, pops, ya know I ain't mean to insult ya. But we ain't done something like this before, so I got quite curious. Sorry if I got ya mad, I didn't mean to, honeybuns."

Henry immediately smiled, alleviating any worry from Peter's mind: "Don't worry, hun. I ain't mad. But it still hurt me a bit that ya'd think I'd be that ungentlemanly."

"Then want me to make it up to ya?"

Silence. The other man was not sure how to respond to that. He was pretty tired, and so was his other half after travelling - but if he was up to it, maybe it was okay? Though what if he had overheard Peter and misunderstood him? Henry was pretty sure he knew where Peter was going with this, but just to be safe, he asked.

"What do ya mean by that?"

"Well, I don't wanna seem ungrateful. So I thought I could give ya a blowie, hm? Whatd'ya say? Both as a 'thank ya' and as a 'I'm home again' gesture."

"Ya know I don't mind, but... aren't ya tired? Ya sure yer up for this? And I'm not sure I'mma be able to return the favor today, hun."

Peter quickly crossed the distance towards Henry and tugged at the waistband of his dad's boxers, his eyes, resisting the urge to gaze downwards, remained glued to the other pair.

"Ya think I mind?"

Not another move was made. The younger man was waiting for a response, any form of affirmation from his partner. The waistband remained strained by a finger, letting the skin underneath breathe, the cool air rousing the sensitive areas. Henry chewed on his lip, before slowly nodding, cheeks slightly reddened at the situation. This may not be a new scenario, but he never managed to get quite used to it.

Yet that small gesture was expressive enough for Peter. With no hesitation, he pulled the underwear he had been holding down in one swift motion. Henry had to awkwardly shuffle his legs to get to the bed - to which Peter was pushing him quite eagerly. He had nearly tripped over his underwear a few times, but eventually made it there unharmed. Suddenly - a push. The older man found himself tumbling backwards before landing on the bed with his back. Everything but for one arm and leg were comfortably resting on the mattress, as his son wasted no time kneeling on the wooden flooring as he wormed his head in-between the hairy thighs so deliciously presented to him. Henry's entire body was covered in wiry, thick and dense black body hair. His pits, ass and crotch were the densest jungle. Yet Peter loved them so much - they carried Harry's aroma and taste in rich amounts, allowing for a true feast for the senses.

He started by kissing the fur-covered flesh presented to him, the thick layers of muscle and fat pulsating as Henry's body reacted to the soft lips plucking at his skin. His nose was filled with an earthy, masculine scent - sweaty and strong. The kissing slowly turned into licking, before his hands, which had deftly slipped under the undershirt, travelled over Henry's bulging belly, groping at the supple beef. Yet his digits travelled further, eventually massaging the two round man tits protruding from Henry's torso. Fingers slowly started circling the pinkish nipples hidden in the black hair forest.

All that could be heard in the Lovegood house was Henry's subtle moans and groans mixed with the sounds of licking and slurping from between his legs. Peter's beard scratched Henry's legs as he moved his head upwards, his nose residing in the crease between a massive scrotum and a now-erect member. He first sucked a bit on the sensitive wrinkly nutsack so lasciviously presented to him - the fat testicles were brimming with potent seed, which he liked drinking so much, especially since he was sure Henry did not jerk off even once since he went away.

The moans became louder and breathier, but this was not where Peter would end. Slowly switching from one half to the other, both nuts got equal attention, sometimes being completely enveloped by the younger one's wet mouth. Releasing the skin from his mouth with a loud plop, he moved upwards to the main course. Henry was not the most well endowed in the length department, measuring about 5 and a half inches, but his girth was quite phenomenal - even after years of practice Peter still had trouble taking it into his mouth properly and his jaw gets very sore afterwards.

But today, he was driven by a strong force - two weeks of not sleeping with his lover. He slowly licked the shaft from the base to the tip, relishing in the taste and the groan he received as payment. Without hesitation, as he got to the slit, he opened his jaw as wide as he could before descending down onto the dick. Yet it would seem he overestimated his capabilities a bit, as he only got it halfway in before having to retract with a gag.

"Ya okay?" Henry asked, his voice still drunk with arousal, but slightly sobered from concern.

"Yah, just... ain't done this in a while. Gimme a sec."

Only replying with a curt nod, Henry let his head rest again, reclining it on the pillow. Peter - meanwhile - tried again, this time a bit more slowly, but still with the same vigor as before. He slowly enveloped the head, letting himself breathe thought his nose, feeling the nice stretch of his mouth. It tasted just as delicious as the rest of the cock. Going at it slowly proved a lot more effective, but still just as pleasant - for both of them.

The descent over the shaft may have been at a snail's pace, but nevertheless was it immensely pleasurable. Were Peter not as preoccupied with the thickness in his mouth, it is quite possible he would've heard the multitude of moans Henry let out - first quiet, then louder, before going very breathy. Two weeks of abstinence made the older one quite desperate. But his son was just as eager to finally be doing this again.

Thankfully, the average length of Henry's made it easy to take to the base once a proper pace was established. Peter's nose was buried deep in the forest of pubes growing on his dad's groin - a fact which he capitalized on fully by taking a breath deeper than any he had taken today. He could feel his own hardness standing proudly, asking for attention. Yet he could wait - his pleasure could wait. He'd be damned if he didn't give this blowjob his all. Having breathed in enough musk and body odor, his head started slowly lifting. A rhythmic bobbing of his head was established as he started moving his lips to the head, before slamming back into Henry's crotch. This simple movement started off at a comfortable pace, but soon got more and more rapid, more and more sloppy. Peter's hands gripped at the hairy hips in front of him, boring into the untanned skin only recently covered by underwear.

Henry wanted to say something, give any kind of feedback, yet the action happening between his legs was too much for his brain to be able to form a coherent thought. So instead, more breathy moans fell from his mouth, eventually becoming a soft whimper. His toes curled as he moved his legs around chaotically, unsure of what to do with all the pleasure he was experiencing. His hands were gripping the sheets for dear life, attempting to ground him at least a little bit. Not that he could see any of what he was doing, considering most of the time his eyes were either closed or rolled so far back, he was looking at the wall behind the bed. On occasion, his torso rose in a particular throe of bliss.

It only took a few minutes before Henry was grasping for Peter's hair. He may not have been able to use words, but he still wanted to communicate somehow. Communicate to tell the cocksucker between his thighs he was getting close - and alarmingly fast at that. Of course, the sucker in question knew this even without Henry saying anything - he could feel the hips beneath his head buck as they were trying to follow the rhythm - although in what could only be described as a sloppy, feeble attempt.

And then the loud moan came - and with it came Henry. His mouth hung agape with sounds coming out of it at random: moans, whimpers, grunt, word slivers. Peter had buried his face as deep into the base as he could, feeling the meat in his throat slowly shoot ropes of white baby batter all across his esophagus. His knuckles turned white from the vice grip he had on the supple hips around his head, while his cock also had little beads of precum adorning its head. The semen started pouring in smaller loads and more spaced out twitches, eventually abating completely. The hardness was gone, leaving a softening dick on his tongue. Unexpectedly, a mighty tug came from two meaty paws grasping at his shoulders, pulling him up. He did not resist.

Henry slammed his mouth into Peter's, his heavy breathing making him interrupt the connection quite a few times, but nevertheless always returning to a passionate and sloppy make-out.

"Boy, that was quite the suckin'. I know ya missed me for 2 weeks, but damn," Henry said, panting loudly as he gazed into his son's eyes.

"Pops, ya normally last longer than this. So I think we both mighty missed each other, hm?" Peter retorted teasingly.

No verbal response came, but the older Lovegood made a prison out of his arms, tightly embracing the man in-between them. Not that the captive was protesting, the warm and hairy hug being more than welcome anytime, really. He nestled into the chest he was being smooshed into, enjoying the warm and safe feeling. It felt like home... it felt like love.

The undershirt below him started to rise and fall as a characteristic snore resounded in his ears. His dad was snoring... It made Peter wonder just how awfully his father had slept for the last weeks, but he could ask that another time. His erection was still throbbing and raring to go, but he wasn't about to wake his poor old man. Slowly wiggling out of the vice grip he was locked in, he removed himself from the bed as he grabbed the blanket and threw it over the sleeping man. He quickly ran off into the bathroom to go through his pre-sleep hygiene, before eventually returning to the bedroom, crawling into bed and under the covers, until he finally nestled himself against his dad.

Henry did not rouse even a bit, simply continuing to snore away. But some instinct of his must had gotten activated, considering he stretched one of his arms out, pulling the body of his son closer. Peter might not have cum, but he didn't really mind, his hardness was softening already. Blue balls would be a morning problem, the current him was too tired to care. In that position, the two of them enjoyed a dreamless, but fulfilling sleep as they snored away until the late morning.

Chapter Text

The morning sun shone through the semi-open window, entering the sanctuary of the father and son duo together with a fresh gust of early autumn air. Peter was the only one who noticed, as his eyes shut even tighter, trying to block out the unwelcome light. But he knew he didn't have a choice. Being the busybody that he was, he already had a ton of appointments for today. People booked him weeks in advance for plumbing work - crazy what being the best freelance plumber in a town does to a person. Well, he only had one other person as competition, but still.

He stretched on the bed slightly as he noticed a heavy weight on him - blocking his movement. While he was lying on his back, his dad was laying on the side. A big, furry arm was draped over Peter's belly, while the other was resting prone on the cushion above his head. It was so natural to him, he had to consciously notice that Henry was pressed in close, the heat radiating from his body - loud snores trying to coax him back to sleep.

A smile formed on Peter's lips. He thanked his lucky star that he could wake up to this sight nearly every morning. Dad looked so peaceful. Finally resting. Even the pesky dark circles under his eyes had mostly faded. He was so handsome... Peter wished he could have stayed home longer and just admire nature's most impressive handiwork, but duty called. With slow, gentle movements, he extracted himself from his dad's comfortable embrace.

Throughout the bedroom - a single roaring snore resounded from Henry. His eyebrows furrowed with slight discontent. Luckily, he remained asleep. Peter stood up from the bed - the creak of bed springs had gone unnoticed by the sleeping man. Finally, he was able to stretch to his full height, listening to the satisfying pops in his joints. Looking behind him, he gave his father's frame one last, longing gaze - a soft, warm smile forming on his lips.

Tearing his eyes off with great dismay, he moved to the closet, walking carefully on the precarious wooden flooring as to not make too much noise - a song-and-dance he was very much used to at this point. As was dad. The act of letting each other sleep in was more common than they would have liked to admit. Opening the closet doors presented him with a varied array of clothes - his and his dad's mixed together with no rhyme or reason. But he had no problem identifying which ones belonged to who. If not from the countless years of knowing dad's style, then from the intoxicating smell that no amount of detergent could fully wash away.

His hands reached out and slithered their way around the various articles, picking out a nice outfit for a productive day. Some boxer-briefs, socks and an undershirt - the basics. Then on top of that, an old and worn t-shirt and some bleached jeans. Closing the closet just as silently as he opened it, he started carrying the pile of clothes with him to the bathroom. As he was about to leave the room, he couldn't help himself but give dad's body one final, sad look. The hulking figure on the bed didn't even have to do anything to be extremely seductive. So big and manly and hairy and strong and... safe. So soft and kind... A sigh escaped his lips. This was the actual final longing gaze of the morning.

Crossing the hallway, aiming for the bathroom, he let the door behind him close with a soft click. It wasn't too far of a walk. His bare feet made contact with the cold tiles. He immediately reached out and turned on the light. Depositing his clothes onto the top of the toilet, he started going about his usual morning routine. Brushing his teeth, taking a much-needed leak and then showering.

Hot water hit his naked skin in a relaxing cascade as he felt his muscles relax. All of the hair on his body slicked to his wet form, creating a flow of downward lines all over. He missed this. Just being at home and doing what he did everyday. Especially being around the people he knew and cherished. His thoughts wandered as his limbs went on auto-pilot, foaming up with his usual products and spreading the lather all over his body. He desired a thorough, but quick shower. There was no time to lose.

But as his hand started cleaning his crotch, he lost his train of thought, a moan escaping his lips involuntarily. Fuck, he was so pent-up. The memories from yesterday came back. The kissing, the touching, the sucking. He could still smell his dad - feel the wiry pubes fill his nose and envelop him in a familiar embrace. The heat of the shower was nothing compared to being in-between his dad's thighs. And the taste of the spongy flesh of dad's dick... Fuck, he was so hard.

He gave his dick a few cursory strokes, but he knew he didn't want to jack off. Not when dad had made it two weeks without touching himself, waiting for Peter's return. It just didn't seem fair to him. But the touches he was giving himself were not helping. At this point, he was just edging, which would make the rest of the day a lot more irritating. As he was now, he couldn't wait to be back from work and jumping dad's bones the moment he saw him.

That was for later, though. Currently, he needed to power through. His facial features hardened as he scrubbed his genitals clean - both the dense bush and the sensitive skin - ignoring his raging boner, and moved on with the shower. Soon enough, he was out of the shower booth and stepping into his new set of clothes. Sure, putting on underwear was another torturous task with his hard-on still very stubbornly parading itself around, but he made it through. He was fully clad for a full day spent plumbing.

Walking downstairs, he gazed at the door to their shared bedroom, resisting the urge to get back into bed only with the help of his tough-as-nails work ethic. Not having time for a proper meal, he went straight into the kitchen and pocketed a few light snacks. It would have to do. Before he left the room, he made sure to check the fridge if there would be enough leftovers for dad to eat today.

Sneakers soon adorned his socked feet as he grabbed his keys and went out to the garage. Locking the door behind him, he quickly consulted the daily agenda with his phone. A packed schedule, but he was used to those. And when he would be done? He'd get back and see dad again. He'd bury his nose in that sweet, homely fur and just go boneless... Fucking hell, he was hard again. One glance down and he saw the outline of his boner through his pants. Oh well, he'd survive. It's not like his clients had never seen a dick before.

---

As the sun shone brightly on the zenith, so did Henry's eyes slowly gain light. With tired, slow blinks the crust fell from his eyelids, shapes materializing in his vision. But he knew something was wrong before his sight returned fully. He was cold. Yes, both of them had fallen asleep on the blanket rather than under it, but that isn't what he meant. Rather, there was no body heat on him. No skin to caress with his hands. No hair to nuzzle into and enjoy.

Of course, this wasn't the only time this had happened. Usually, it was Henry who had to leave early - his job as a forester requiring quite an early start to the day. But sometimes, Peter was the early bird between the two. Those days filled him with great irritation and disappointment - aimed at himself, that is. He was supposed to be Peter's dad, yet he couldn't even make sure to wake up before his son? Not only that, but he was supposed to be the experienced lover between the two of them as well. And yet he opted to laze around in bed like a bum instead of taking care of his beloved? His hands clenched into fists.

Hauling himself from the bed, he left the sheets crumpled and slightly stained from where they had slept. Walking downstairs, he checked every nook of the house, but it was clear Peter was out. His keys and shoes were not where they should be, so he was most likely at work.

A self-ruing smile was formed by Henry's slightly cracked lips. He was so proud of his boy's diligence and work ethic. Inherited straight from his old man. Every parent wished for a son like that. But that didn't change the fact he was worried for poor little Pete. He was more prone to neglecting himself than he'd ever admit. All because Henry hadn't been able to step up as a father the way he should have. Because he hadn't balanced the time spent providing and the time spent caring. His body at times simply refusing to work anymore.

Yes, people had pitied him for becoming a single parent when his precious boy was only four, but that didn't change the fact Peter had it way too hard as a kid. Poor thing - had to grow up quickly and be responsible. If only Caroline could have lived longer...

But there was no changing the past anymore and he was not about to get lost in ruminations. He would tackle the day head-on just like any other, despite the dissatisfactory start. Stomping up the stairs, the calloused soles on his bare feet left sweaty imprints on the wooden floor together with his toes.

Opening the bathroom caused a wave of leftover warmth and smell to hit him. The scent of Peter's shampoo... he could recognize it anywhere. He was thankful for the aroma, as it calmed him down a bit, a relaxed sigh escaping from his lips. Unlike the pleasant smell of the shower, his sigh assaulted his nostrils with his own morning breath. His nose wrinkled and he turned away a bit. It was definitely time to get ready for the day.

His routine was simple: teeth, toilet, shower. Efficient. Soon, he too was all cleaned up and prepared. He just had to decide what to do. It would be a long time until Peter got home - he knew his boy's ways. Oh well, he could decide later. First, he had to get changed.

Stray droplets of water, leftovers from poor drying via towel, hung from his body hair, adorning his pecs, belly and back like little gems. He stepped out of the bathroom naked, the cooler air of the hallway wafting over his fresh skin. With his typical heavy style of walking, he made his way over to the bedroom closet, properly covering himself up. Some loose boxers and socks for a start, then an undershirt. As per usual, on top of that was a plaid flannel shirt, paired with chunky cargo pants. A few shakes to properly get situated in the clothes and he was good to go.

He walked back to the ground floor again, aiming for the kitchen. There were still leftovers left from his romantic dinner. Honestly, they'd probably be enough to fully cover today's dishes. At least Peter wouldn't need to volunteer to cook again.

But eating the reheated food made him realize something: had Peter even eaten today? Henry sighed again, kicking himself for not waking up sooner and making the boy get some grub into him. If Peter insisted on neglecting his needs, then Henry had to step up and take care of them... which caused the old man to kick himself again. This wasn't the only need of Peter's left unfulfilled. Like an absolute ass he had blue-balled his lover last night.

His mood soured and so did the taste of the food on his tongue. He shoveled the rest of it down his chute and deposited the plate into the sink. He needed some fresh air. He had to get out for a bit.

Putting on a pair of sturdy boots, he grabbed his keys, pocketing them after locking the door behind him. The early autumn ambiance was just what he had required. A chilly wind, clouds in the sky and the quiet that came with living on the edge of town. Simply beautiful.

He started walking and could hear the sticks and leaves crack beneath his soles, alongside an occasional crunch of gravel. Soon, the pavement was replaced with a dirt road, but even that didn't last long, giving way to the grassy forest ground. With practiced ease he maneuvered his way through the wayward roots and hidden pits. He was used to this forest. Whether it be for work or leisure; alone or with company - he would go here nearly every day.

A single look up and he saw the intricate intermingling of yellowing deciduous leaves and healthy evergreens. The light filtered through them, creating little shiny specks on the ground. Despite having the day off because of a contractor fuck-up, he had still decided to go to the same forest he worked in. He laughed to himself at the realization.

There was no real aim to his walk - just simple meandering. But that didn't last forever. He did want to get somewhere specific. Namely to his best friend and brother-in-everything-but-blood. The only person who knew about his and Peter's nontraditional relationship. Soon enough, his steps became focused and driven - a direct march to a specific point. He didn't need a map or GPS to be able to navigate where he had to, knowing the route by heart just as he did the entire area.

And eventually, there it was - a little wooden hut built on a nice clearing. Deep in the heart of the forest, isolated from civilization. In front of it, next to a stone furnace, was the guy he was looking for - sitting on a wooden log, carving something in his hands.

"Ivan!" Henry exclaimed from a distance, approaching the humble shack.

"Henry." Ivan acknowledged with no surprise, looking his way.

Ivan was a giant of a man - even bigger than Henry, and that was saying something. The short blonde hair on his head shone in the afternoon sun, almost as brightly as his deep blue eyes. The tight line of his mouth was framed by a horseshoe mustache, reaching all the way to the lower edge of his jaw. The corners of his mouth slowly quirked upwards - ever so slightly.

"C'mere, big fella." Henry said, throwing his arms open.

Ivan didn't need much more to stand up and leave his carving behind. Without a word he closed the remaining distance and pulled the black-haired man into a tight embrace. His chin rested on Henry's head, while his arms enveloped the father completely.

While Henry's build was stocky and wide, Ivan was very much muscular and somewhat defined. Being pressed into the giant's neck, the smaller man had a perfect view of just which part of Ivan's was usually clothed - a brownish tan bordering on a pale expanse. Like spring snow. Layers of sweat glistened on his entirely hairless skin, drawing attention to the open collar of his plaid jacket - not unlike Henry's. Well, except for being a lot older and quite damaged.

"What do I thank for the visit?" Ivan asked, his Ukrainian accent even thicker up close.

"What? Can't I wanna see my best man? Well, second best. Right after my boy, 'f course." Henry beamed, creating a bit of a distance between them.

"Of course you can, Henry. And you do almost every day. But you do not seem like yourself today, Henry."

Henry frowned a bit. Was he that easy to read? To Ivan - probably. The blonde looked down at his friend, letting his arms fall to his sides. Then he turned on his heel, going inside. Henry followed, not needing an invitation after decades of friendship.

Taking a seat on a log next to a makeshift iron table, he was facing Ivan who had taken his place on the opposite end. The room was just as he had remembered from the day before. Sparse, but mostly functional. Holes for windows, with a wooden plank for closing. A wooden frame on which a simple, frayed blanket had been laid out. Some cans filled with long-lasting food. Even some cabinets and boxes - mostly for storing clothes, tools or memorabilia. Everything screamed Ivan - mostly because everything had been built by or carried in by Ivan. The sound of the nearby river coming from outside added the finishing touch to the atmosphere.

"I love yar home, Ivan. So nice and quiet around these parts."

Ivan snorted almost imperceptibly.

"You have been here yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. You know what my home is like, Henry. So stop avoiding the question and out with it. You are here for a reason, yes?" Ivan said, his elbow on the table - hand propping up his chin.

"I can't hide nothin' from ya, huh? Smart sunuf a bitch." Henry laughed, his voice a bit strained.

"No, you cannot. So talk." Ivan insistent patiently, his eyes never leaving Henry's.

"Uh, well... it's 'bout my boy... Don'tcha think someone oughtta be better for Pete rather than his wrinkly old man?" Henry asked with his gaze averted.

"I do not know, Henry. I do not see him as often as you do. Do you think so?"

"Well, yea... Pete's a young'un, y'know? Spry like a spring chicken. Got a head so clever it makes me spin sometime... And his body is strong and sturdy like a mountain. But... how long will I keep up with that, hm? He oughtta have someone more fittin' for him, y'know? Someone more like him, keepin' pace. A nice gal or maybe a good lad."

Let alone the fact that with another person, he could be public about his relationship and not have to hide it like the dirtiest secret imaginable. But Henry didn't say that, choosing to keep it to himself.

"Peter will never be with a woman, and we both know that. And why do you think you are not enough? I will not lie: I do not know what you two have or how it works. Never have. But he seemed very happy with you when I saw him last, no? Did something change?" Ivan inquired.

"Well, he ain't complainin', nah. But this is my boy we're talking 'bout. He'd rather die than hurt his pops, y'know? So I worry that he's with me just 'cause he thinks he can't leave, y'know? But I know I can't keep up. These bones ain't what they used to be." Henry sighed.

"So? I think Peter knew what he was getting into. Keep in mind, you two have been this way for years now. If he could not handle it anymore, he would tell you. But yes, your boy is as stubborn as a mule. Has it from his father." Ivan flashed him a brief grin, the gap in his teeth a welcoming sight.

"Oh, shuddup ya old bastard. I only want the best for Pete. Yer aware of that, I know ya are." Henry smiled sadly.

"I know you do. And I think Peter will tell you if he needs something else from you. Or someone else." Ivan concluded with a shrug.

Henry looked down at the mud-caked floor. Yes, Peter was an honest man and would not shy away from a painful truth... if he let himself admit that truth in the first place. Henry couldn't stop thinking that he had put his own son in a very tough situation when their relationship had evolved into something more.

"I said all I had to say, Henry. But now, do you want to talk about something else, 'pops'? Something a bit happier?" Ivan suggested.

Henry stayed silent for a bit, but nodded, thankful for the distraction.

The two talked about a lot of topics, ranging from something as mundane as the weather to fond memories like their time in high school together. Well, somewhat fond memories. Their conversation was interrupted by loud rustling coming from outside.

"Not again." Ivan said with an annoyed frown.

"What is it, big guy?" Henry asked, standing up.

"I have been having some visitors lately. Every now and then, they come over here. Usually at night. But I have never caught them in the act. I cannot even figure out what animal it is." Ivan said, also moving to leave the hut.

"Well, why not set up a few traps? That oughtta help ya at least a bit, no?" Henry suggested.

"Maybe... but it seems that whatever it is - or they are - it is a very shy animal. Very persistent, though." Ivan mumbled, mostly to himself.

"If it ever do start causin' ya trouble, lemme know. I'll help ya in a jiffy. Can't have ya sleepin' poorly. Ya need that beauty sleep." Henry laughed as he punched Ivan's shoulder.

With another grin Ivan reciprocated the punch before moving to his previous spot at the furnace and retrieving the carving from before.

"Here, take this. Give it to Peter for me, yes?" Ivan requested, presenting it to Henry.

It looked like some sort of man with robotic features. Definitely nothing Henry had seen before. He ran his fingers over the ridges when he took it.

"What's this?" he asked, holding the figure in his hands.

"I do not know. But I saw it on a poster at the cinema. Peter likes movies, no? I thought he would know. Maybe he likes it. It seemed very much for him." Ivan shrugged.

"I'm sure he'll like it. He likes anythin' from 'Uncle Ivan'." Henry smiled softly.

"Thank you. Take care, then. Go home and take care of your boy." Ivan ended their conversation, already moving out to check the nearby shrubs.

Henry gave one last curt nod and went on his way home. Maybe he'd be in luck and Peter was already back. Honestly, he couldn't wait anymore.

---

Henry admired Ivan's handiwork as he was nearly home, rotating it in his hand and inspecting it from every angle. It was a really beautiful gift. A smile had been playing on his lips ever since he had left his friend's forest hut. As he slowly got onto the leaf-covered pavement again, he saw that someone was indeed there. But not Peter.

Instead, it was two of his... acquaintances from childhood. Good old Ryan and Lucas White. Twins. For the longest time, they had made sure to wear the same clothes, get the same haircut and sometimes even speak at the same time. They had even become raging alcoholics at the end of high school together. Truly a twin bond for better or for worse. They had only stopped with the copying once they had found out that dating the same girl did not work out well.

"Eyyyyy, if that ain't my man Henry. Henryyyyy. What's u-" Ryan started talking, but quickly lost his balance and fell.

Henry didn't have to be near them to know just what level of intoxication he was dealing with.

"G'day Ry. Lu. What brings ya two 'ere?" Henry asked.

"Not much, just... y'know. Wanted to see ya... I think." Lucas said, getting slightly confused.

Ryan slowly started collecting himself from the ground. His legs were wobbly, but somehow he had managed to stand up somewhat straight before Henry got to the door.

"Don't listen to that arse. We're here because Pete forgot his wrench at my place." Ryan hiccuped.

"Oh yeeeeah. Now I remember. Wait, I think Pete was at my house too. Don't think he forgot anythin' there though." Lucas laughed.

"Shaddup, ya twat. How could he've been at yars when he was at mine. Use yar brain, stupid." Ryan argued, tapping on his head.

"Gents, gents. Calm down. Gimme that wrench. I'mma give it to him later." Henry said, grabbing the tool and sticking it partially into his pocket.

"Aye, aye, sir Lovegood." Ryan laughed this time around.

"Where is little Pete anyways? It's dark already. Don't he have a curfew?" Lucas asked with genuine curiosity.

"Peter's an adult. A full-grown lad. And it's still evenin', not even night. But I think yar curfews are gettin' closer. Best hurry home, boys." Henry gave a nod down the street.

"I don't have a curfew, but I'm not sure 'bout Ryan here. He strikes me like the lad who would. Henpecked." Lucas laughs, but starts walking first.

"I ain't the one sleepin' on the couch for two weeks straight, am I, ya dimwit?" Ryan said, giving Lucas a push.

Yet neither of the two drunks could keep his balance, so they both just ended up on the street, sprawled out and groaning. Honestly, Henry could only feel pity at the sight. They had been so talented back when they were young. Had had a knack for various crafts and trades, a witty mind and sharp looks. But then they had found the bottle. The fact that they had kids with the first women who had come their way did not help. After they had married, both of them had started frequenting pubs even more. A tragedy.

Henry took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, setting both the wrench and carving on the top of the shoe rack. Still no sight of Peter. Figures.

Oh well, he didn't have much of an option except keeping himself entertained until his son came home. He prepared leftovers for both of them - he'd only need to reheat them once they were together later. Until then, he opted to kick his feet up onto the coffee table and watch some old movies. A nice classic western sounded fun. Sure, he had seen this specific flick about a dozen times, but he could never grow tired of it.

And so time passed - the clock on the wall ticking away happily. Five minutes before eight and the front door finally clicked open again. Henry, almost having fallen asleep in front of the TV, bolted up from the living room couch, making his way to the door with a pop in his knees.

"Pete! Welcome back, hun." Henry said, getting a proper look at his son.

Tall and strong as always. But he could see the slight slouch, most likely from exhaustion. That boy really took bites that nobody could chew and chewed them anyway. But at what cost?

"Thanks, honeybuns. Missed ya lots..." Peter said, discarding his shoes.

With a pained groan, the younger one bent down to properly place his footwear into the rack, noticing his tool and the mysterious art piece on it.

"I've been lookin' for that everywhere! Where'd ya get it? And what's Iron Man doin' here?" Peter said with poorly disguised wonder.

"Oh, ya left it at Ryan's. And the wood is from Ivan. He sends his regards." Henry said, getting closer.

"Nice! Thanks, pops. Thank Ryan for me next time ya see him. And Uncle Ivan too, 'f course. I need to go visit soon." Peter said, taking the figure into his hands and running his fingers over the intricate work.

"I'mma do that, yea. Now tell me one thing, sonny. Did ya remember to eat before ya went out and worked that handsome arse off?" Henry said with a smile, but he was being dead serious.

"Yea. I packed some snacks before I went out." Peter said, not tearing his eyes away from the gift.

"Like what? A cookie and chocolate bar? C'mon, Pete. Ya know that ain't proper food." Henry frowned.

"I was late, okay? I'mma eat somethin' now." Peter finally put Iron Man down.

"Ya bet yar arse ya are." Henry said, overtaking him on the way to the kitchen.

The older man took the prepared meals and quickly put them into the microwave, one after the other. He set the first plate in front of Peter, of course. He himself could wait for his turn.

"Yum. I loved this yesterday. I bet it's just as good reheated." Peter said, digging in like a starving animal.

"That's it. Eat up, hun. Ya ain't gonna starve on my clock." Henry said, finally sitting down with his own portion.

Peter didn't respond, just huffing a bit with his mouth stuffed. In this moment, Henry couldn't have felt more happy. It never failed to bring a smile to his lips when he saw his boy like this. All nice and taken care of. He slowly suppressed his doubts and pretended he didn't have any. At least for today...

In the blink of an eye, Peter's plate was empty as he brought it up to his face and licked any remaining food on there. He then placed it into the sink. With a nice and satisfied burp, he turned to dad.

"Pops, ya make amazin' food." he said, walking over to Henry's chair and putting his arms around dad's neck.

"I know I do. Who cooked for ya all of those years? Just because ya usually cook now don't mean I unlearned it somehow." Henry puffed out his chest a bit.

But Peter had other plans for their touch rather than a simple hug.

Slowly, his arms draped over his dad's shoulders, connecting on Henry's chest, his fingers dipping into the softer flesh of the supple pecs through the clothes. The older man could only smile at his son's antics, reeling his shoulders back a bit so his chest would stick out more.

"Feelin' touchy, sonny?" Henry asked in a low growl.

"Yea..." Peter said all breathy.

Strong fingers gripped into the flannel, moving into the center and slowly starting to pop open the collar. Dark hair got exposed underneath - inch by inch, until it ended under the undershirt. Henry chuckled a bit as he grabbed his son's wrists gently.

"Let's get somewhere more comfortable, okay? Can't have my boy end at just gropin'." dad said, standing up.

The solitary plate was left on the table as Peter's father stood up to his full height, only an inch or two taller. His own sausage fingers reached out and brushed the hair on the side of Peter's head. He slowly scratched the skin underneath, watching as his son leaned into the touch with his head.

"Pops... I really can't wait anymore. I need it so bad." the younger one whined.

"What do ya need, sonny? Tell me." Henry cooed a bit to tease.

"Don't... I really need it." another whine came.

There was no doubt left in Henry as he could see the thick outline of his son's cock bulge against his pants. He smiled, wrapping his arm around Peter's waist and pulling at him. He aimed straight for the living room, his son obediently following behind him. The movie still played on as they reached the couch. Henry sat down onto the cushion and pulled Peter into his lap.

Being 27 years old, his son was not a light-weight anymore, especially since he seemed to have inherited a very similar body structure to Henry's own. But that didn't matter. He could take it. With gentle, but insistent movements of his hands, he moved Peter so that he was leaning into Henry's body properly. The soft, prominent belly easily stomached all of the weight pressing into it. When the two of them were positioned, Henry's hand started slithering its way down Peter's body, feeling every contour of his muscles and fat. It ended its journey on the most important part of this moment - a very prominent bundle nestled in-between two deliciously thick thighs.

Peter moaned again, this time louder. His head was fully pressed into Henry's shoulder, his back slouched as he held onto the back of the couch, bucking his hips slightly. Henry could feel the need his son was going through, a light pang of guilt coursing through him again. His poor boy was having a hard time resisting. And he shouldn't have had to. Deciding to speed up the process a bit, his sausage-like fingers quickly unbuttoned the jeans and pulled them down slightly, freeing the straining underwear. The boxer-shorts also didn't stay on for very long, as they were pulled aside too.

The more-than-familiar cock jutted out of the thick bush of pubic hair, aiming straight forward, already leaking at the tip. Henry didn't waste any more time before putting his hand around it, enveloping it fully and giving it a few slow, but firm strokes.

"Pops!" Peter moaned out loudly.

"Shhh, it's alright. It'll be alright. Pa's gotcha now. Yer all good. Just relax for your pops." Henry shushed gently.

It wasn't often that Peter allowed himself to be needy and demanding. Usually it was either stubborn and firm, or coquettish and sassy. But his dad was more than happy to entertain these moods. After all, it gave him a chance to indulge in feeling needed again. And as selfish as he was, he relished in this.

"Pa, I'm gonna blow!" Peter warned, but too late.

Even the slow strokes managed to fully milk out a great lot of cum out Peter's balls, landing all over Henry's clothes. Thick spurts came in four waves - rope after rope of hot, white liquid.

"That's it, sonny. There ya go. Let it all out for pops. Must've been mighty pent up, huh? But it's all good now, I gotcha." Henry said.

One last squeeze on Peter's dick, and most of the cum was out, slowly making the cock soften to its flaccid state. Peter himself also seemed to go flaccid. His body went boneless against Henry, who adjusted the hold he had on him, one hand under the full ass on his lap.

"Thank ya, pa. I needed that so bad." Peter breathed out the words.

"I know, I know. Ya don't have to thank me. If anythin', that's kinda my fault, y'know? I didn't take care of ya yesterday." Henry apologized, pulling Peter into him a bit more.

"Nah, it ain't yar fault. Ya warned me, remember? What's one more day waitin'." Peter nuzzled into Henry's beard from below.

A low chuckle rumbled out of the older man's throat, his hand on his son's ass cupping the cheek gently, kneading it a bit through the jeans. A soft kiss was pressed into the top of the hair slick with work-sweat. Only now did he notice the dampness of Peter's shirt and the slight smell coming from his pits. He could only smile.

"Ya worked hard today, son. I'm proud of ya. The best boy anyone could ask for." Henry whispered.

"Thanks. I try. How was yar day, honeybuns?" Peter responded, closing his eyes.

"Thanks to ya lettin' me sleep in, I had a nice rest. Finally, after two weeks I got some good shut-eye." Henry laughed.

Then an unexpected pressure clamped down on his own groin. His back straightened a bit as he looked down. A grin appeared on his face as he saw Peter's hand insistently grabbing around there, trying to open the cargo pants up.

"Cheeky little bugger, aren't ya?" Henry chuckled, settling back against the back of the couch.

Peter didn't even respond, simply freed the cock he had sucked on the night before and started giving it a good tug or two, his hand already a bit sloppy in its movements.

"Here, let me help ya, aight?" Henry said with a few jumps of his waist.

With a deftness belying his stature, Henry positioned Peter directly into the center of the mighty legs below, the spent penis slowly hardening against his dad's. Sure, it had only been a little while since he came, but he could go again soon. Probably for the last time today, as his legs were already wobbly and tired. Two weeks of work followed by another packed day after he had come back really took a toll on him. But he wanted to get at least one more lap out of himself. For dad.

"It's aight, sonny. I'll do the work. Ya just enjoy. I'll take care of it." Henry dropped his voice to a whisper again.

"Yea." Peter said, voice slightly needy.

"That's it. That's my boy." Henry said, angling his body forwards.

He captured Peter's lips in a very gentle kiss, not even pushing his tongue in. Just a simple press of flesh against flesh, utterly tender and grounding. Peter somehow lost even more of his composure, nearly falling to the ground if not for Henry's insistent grip on his ass, arm around his body.

No more words were said as their tools down below pressed together as well. Henry made sure to grind and rub them softly against one another, neither staying on top too long before the other took its place. A harmonious duet of groans and moans echoed off the living room walls, Henry mostly trying to echo Peter's. The movie was long forgotten. Their foreskins moved up and down as the slits on their heads seemed to kiss each other too, spilling and sharing precum. Henry's brownish glans and Peter's pinkish one mingled together, lost in a sticky dance.

Neither of the men would last very long, still pent up from a - from what they were used to - long period of sex drought. But surprisingly enough, it was Peter who started shooting first again, despite having emptied his tank only a short while ago.

"There ya are. Such a good boy. Yer so hot, hun." Henry grunted out.

He picked up the pace, not wanting to lag behind too much, chasing his pleasure with a dead-set focus. Suffice to say, rubbing against his son's slowly softening cock all slick with the sticky essence of his beloved's scrotum was more than enough to get him to come in a matter of second.

Silence stretched out as Henry merely opened his mouth, breath hitched. His balls - twitching underneath the confines of his pants and underwear - pumped out a hefty load. The finishing glazing of the night. As his testicles relaxed, so did his back, pulling Peter with him. Henry rested his son's head fully against his chest, cradling it with his cum-stained hand. He couldn't have cared less and neither could have Peter. They were both too full of bliss to give two shits about cleanliness.

Henry could merely chuckle as soft snores started resounding against his torso. He managed to lull his boy into a, hopefully, restful sleep. Balls empty, belly full. The sight was more beautiful than any painting to dad's eyes - his son, exhausted but satisfied, peacefully laying against his body, so vulnerable and trusting. He couldn't resist but press another kiss into the sweaty hair. A bit of the cum made its way into his mouth, but if anything, that was a bonus.

With a light thud, he shifted them both so that they laid down on the couch. Pulling the hulking body in his arms impossibly close, he put his chin onto the crown of the sleeping head, focusing back on the TV. The movie was still on, and Henry could watch for a few more minutes. Afterwards, he'd carry his son back into bed. Just as he deserved.

Chapter Text

Peter groaned as he felt something heavy on him, pushing him into the soft mattress below. His face was deep in the pillow, so he couldn't exactly look around, but something else gave him a good idea of what the mysterious pressure could be. He felt a warm waft of air blow into his ear, and judging by the rather unpleasant smell of morning breath, he could tell what - or rather, who - it was.

Without making much noise, he tried to peel the arm and leg off himself, just as he did yesterday. But his dad wasn't asleep.

"G'morning, hun." Henry bellowed.

Instead of letting him go, dad opted to pull Peter even closer, ensnaring him into his embrace, chest to back. Henry's chest hair scratched against his son's back in a most pleasant way - causing the young man to shudder, his breath hitching for a bit.

"Pa... Ya could've told me ya were awake." Peter protested a bit, but ultimately settled against him.

"When? When ya were fast asleep? I ain't gonna wake my boy." Henry chuckled and placed a kiss onto Peter's messy hair.

"Fair... G'morning to ya too, pa. Sorry for goin' out like a light yesterday."

Peter proceeded to turn around in his dad's hug, the hairy coils around him loosening slightly to allow this. Now, he was directly in his father's jungle of a chest, nose stuck in-between the two big, slightly flabby pectorals.

"No need for apologies, hun. Ya were tired. Just like me before. Hope ya had a good rest." Henry said, rubbing his son's back.

"'F course I did. Ya tuckered me out mighty, pops. I forget how hot ya are sometimes." Peter laughed, pressing a kiss to the expanse in front of him.

Something sticky and slightly crumbly hit his tongue. It smelled familiar - tasted too... Oh, it was their cum from before.

"Damn, ya didn't even wash up?" Peter said more in disbelief than as an accusation.

"Sorry, hun. Guess I wasn't exactly chipper too. Especially after carryin' ya up the stairs. Yer a chunky lad, boy. That's good. Means my son's getting all the grub he needs to grow big and strong."

"Pops, I fear I'm past that stage. Long past it, actually. The only growin' thing on me now is my gut... and my cock." Peter drowned out the last words by slapping his belly.

Henry bellowed out a laugh before hitting his own bulging mountain, pressing it into Peter's.

"I fear ya still got ways to go in that regard. At least until ya catch up to me, hun."

"Just ya wait. I'll get ya one day, pops." Peter laughed back.

They didn't speak much after that, opting to just laze around in bed for a while. There was no rush to do anything, so they had the luxury to do this, and oh boy did they use it. But it couldn't last forever, so Peter decided to slowly disentangle himself again.

"Well, honeybuns, we oughta get ready for the day. C'mon, get up and at 'em." Peter said, hefting himself off the cozy comforter - aiming straight for the bathroom.

Henry was quick to follow, hauling his legs out of bed and onto the floor in one fluid motion. Their clothes from yesterday were in the hamper - the one thing Henry did before crashing onto the mattress himself.

All in all, it was turning out to be a typical morning - daily routine and all. They stood in their full naked glories in front of the sink mirror as they brushed their teeth. When it came to the shower, Peter looked at dad with a conspiratorial grin.

"So, pops, wanna save some water and get in together? Then again, if we do that, we're gonna be in that shower for a long time, so it might even out." Peter winked.

Henry blushed a bit and his son couldn't help but chuckle. It was cute seeing dad all worked up and shy despite it being years since they had started this. Truly, that only made him feel more lucky for being able to witness it first hand.

"I'm not gonna get outta that shower until I bust, am I?" Henry asked, staring off into a random corner.

"Nope. What kinda lover would I be if I didn't empty yar balls properly?" Peter winked.

The older man sighed, but walked towards the shower nonetheless. And his length - now jutting out proudly out of his dense bush - was a testament on its own. Peter only smiled as he got in right after, turning on the hot water.

Not a single second wasted and the son's knees were already on the tiled floor of the booth. Sure, his legs might have been scraped a bit afterwards, but who gave a fuck. He was not going to let his dad's dick go soft.

Promptly, his lips parted and half of the shaft got engulfed by his warm mouth, tongue already starting to swirl all over the rod. Henry nearly doubled over as his dick got gulped at hungrily. He had trouble finding his voice and Peter left nothing up to chance and started going to town on the cock that made him.

"Fuck... slow down, boy. Or I'mma bust before ya even get to the ro- oooooh." Henry's words turned into a moan.

Peter was prepared for his dad's girth, unlike last time. He felt it hit the back of his throat as he gobbled it up completely. His dad's pubes filled his nose up again with the scent of yesterday's escapades - the dried cum still not washed away.

Groans of various pitches came from above, as Henry's hands came into the hair of the man deepthroating his dick. His mind hazed over, his fingers tightening as he could feel his son's tongue stick out of that overstuffed mouth, grazing his hairy, low-hanging balls.

Water washed over their bodies, the plan of showering indefinitely delayed. Henry's moans became louder and louder. He wanted so badly to resist and regain his composure, but there was something about... about his son's entire demeanor. He felt so wanted and so desirable. Sure, he received plenty of praise and flattery from the older women in the area, but this felt special. It was more than just the appreciation though. It was the utter knowledge his boy had of him. Knew exactly how he ticked and what he liked.

The old man couldn't help but buck his hips a bit, his heavy sack hitting the younger man's chin. His nuts were churning as they prepared to explode in a white, creamy deluge. Peter could tell just by his dad's shaking frame how close his father was. And he was about to make it even harder to resist.

He hollowed out his cheeks and increased the tempo significantly - slamming into his dad's crotch like a madman, bumping into the throbbing pouch below with his jaw. With every bob of his head, his dad only moaned louder and louder, tightening his grip.

"I'mma blow. I'mma blow, son! Slow down, boy. Oh fuuuu-" Henry cut off, gasping for air.

And then Peter felt it. His dad's cockhead exploded in his mouth, releasing a flood of baby batter all into his willing throat. It washed over the back of his tongue as he could feel the slightly bitter jizz pool. He swallowed deeply, making sure to drink up all the swimmers in big gulps, all of them ending up in his stomach. Henry slowly regained his breath as his cock gave off its last few throbs, pushing out all the remaining cum out of his spent groin. For a man who had gotten drained two days in a row, he still had a lot to give.

A few drops of spunk dripped out of the corner of the sucker's mouth as he released the slowly softening spongy flesh. Wanting to tease his dad a bit more, he decided to open his mouth wide, the shower water hitting his face directly as he angled it upwards. Henry could see the remnants of semen coat the reddish-pink insides - covering the flesh from the pearly teeth to the gaping, recently-fucked throat at the end. If he could have gotten hard again, he would have.

"Pete... Pete, ya gotta go easy on yar old man. I'm not a young stud like yaself anymore." Henry panted out.

Peter only grinned like a cheeky little brat, getting up onto his feet and slamming his cum-stained mouth against Henry's. Dad did not protest as his arms enveloped his son's body. One of his hands found the two mounds down below and squeezed them gently, causing their owner to yelp a bit. The sound was muffled by the tongue-heavy kiss.

"Pops, if ya wanna have a go, ya can. Just lemme get some lube." Peter said, breaking the kiss and arching his back a bit to stick out his buns.

"Nah, hun. I'm already spent for the nearest future and besides - I gotta return the favor. But first I'mma turn this goddamn shower off. Wastin' good water." Henry grumbled as Peter laughed.

With popping knees, the older man got onto his somewhat shaky knees and placed his meaty hands onto the hips before him. Looking up in an almost pleading manner, he started to slowly kiss the groin before him. But instead of the dick, he aimed for the balls below, letting the erect cock rest on his face.

A smile formed on Peter's lips. He knew his dad had some particular tastes when it came to sex, even if the stubborn old man hated to admit them sometimes. But the young bear had his ways of coaxing them out.

"C'mon, pops. Get that good stank. Bet my nuts still reek after yesterday, yea? C'mon, give 'em a good smell." he goaded.

Henry's eyebrows slanted back a bit as he pushed forward, driving his nose into the pliable flesh. His eyes rolled backwards slightly as even Peter could hear the deep inhale he just took.

"That's it, pops. Get yar kick. Bet they're nice and sweaty. Maybe they still got that jizz on 'em too. Can ya smell it, honeybuns?" Peter continued to tease, reaching out with one hand to comb through his dad's soaked hair.

His father didn't respond - simply started to lick at the ballsack so tantalizingly presented to him. He extended his tongue and tasted the underside of the scrotum, causing Peter to moan a bit, chuckling right after.

"There ya go, pops. Get 'em nice and shiny for me. They're just for yar pleasure. Go ahead." he coaxed again.

As much as Henry had hated this way of talking at first, he had grown quite fond of it. It felt... exhilarating to truly show his perverted desires - and to his own son no less. He couldn't put it into words, but it caused shivers to run down his entire body as he arched his back a bit.

"Enjoyin' it? Good, pa. Ya deserve it, y'know? Always so strong and good to me. Takin' care of yar baby boy, right? Even carryin' me to bed with 'em strong muscles of yars." Peter patted the head in-between his legs.

Henry knew this shouldn't have aroused him as much as he did, but his slowly reawakening length hadn't gotten that memo. Wanting to please even more, he brought his arms up and flexed them a bit, his biceps bulging - muscle overpowering any layers of fat above. His tongue started lapping at both balls in front of him - alternating between them before popping them both into his mouth fully.

"Yea... That's my pa. Look at ya, so strong. Ya could carry this whole house if ya wanted to. Yea... So good for me. Takin' such good care of me. Enjoy it. Ya deserve it." Peter said as he bucked his hips very slowly, smearing his precum all over dad's hair.

The kneeling man only moaned through his filled mouth, moving his face as if to nuzzle into the dick on it. Cute. But Peter felt a bit desperate, so he pulled slightly at the hair in his grasp and caused his dad to release the two overfilled nuts with a pop.

"Pops, c'mon. I'mma blow soon and I don't wanna go on the floor." Peter pleaded.

He placed his cockhead at dad's bottom lip, pushing only ever so slightly, not wanting to force his way in. Though both of the men knew he wouldn't have to as Henry readily opened up his mouth.

Peter gently slid it in, thrusting his dick shallowly over his dad's tongue. Henry was a lot better with his ass than he was with his mouth, so his son didn't want to cause any unsexy accidents. It was alright though - the hot velvety insides of dad's were heaven no matter how deep or from which end.

"Yea... that's it, pops. Fuuuuck... I'mma blow soon. Get ready, m'kay? Oh fuck, here it go- awwww fuck." Peter moaned out.

Henry patiently waited in his kneeling position, letting the cum fill his mouth until his tongue was fully coated in it. His son's cockhead let out the last of its semen reserves and pulled out soon after. The cocksucker tried to swallow, but he just couldn't. Instead, he opted to spit it out onto the shower drain.

"Sorry, son. I just don't have it in me to get it down. I don't understand how ya do it." Henry said, slowly standing up again.

With a gentle smile, Peter gave his dad's hair a few pats. The reawakened dick in-between Henry's thighs had softened again.

"It's an acquired taste, pops. I don't blame ya. And hey, seein' all of my spunk come out of yar kisser is just as hot, honeybuns." Peter reassured him.

The two of them kissed again, this time a lot gentler and slower, their drained cocks hanging loosely down below, occasionally bumping against each other. Just as their heads above separated with a string of saliva, so did their heads below have a thick strand of leftover cum in-between them.

"I don't get how ya don't hate me after I do this for ya. Don't ya lose respect for me? For being so needy and desperate. It's humiliatin' and embarrassin'. Besides, it makes me look like a... like a slut." Henry said the last part with a whisper.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a slut, pops. And besides, I say it's tougher to admit to what you like. When ya suck my nuts I think yer really brave and manly for gettin' what ya want. Besides, it gets me shootin' like a volcano faster than the wind." Peter caressed his dad's cheek.

"If ya say so... but if ya ever get cheeky with me over this, I'll whoop yar arse so ya can see who still wears the pants in this house." Henry said with mock authority.

Peter could not recount a single instance of having been hit by his dad, which made it even funnier to him. He simply smiled and bent over a bit.

"If whoopin' my arse includes gettin' that lovely cock of yars up there, then I might just need to get cheeky with you, pops."

"Aight, that's enough, Mister. We're takin' this shower now, or I'mma die of shame." Henry quickly turned on the water again, his skin reddening under the heat to match his cheeks.

"Aye aye, sir. Here, lemme wash yar back." Peter said and grabbed the shower gel and sponge.

---

Not too shortly after finishing up in the steamy shower, they changed into presentable clothing and went about the next item on the daily agenda. Food.

Peter was the usual cook in the household, so he decided to man the stove once more. He was also fired on by his dad cooking before - he couldn't just let that slide. While the sauce bubbled in its pot, Henry decided to clean all the dirty dishes left in the sink from the days before.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait long before they both had a plate ready. A hearty orange sauce coupled with thick chunks of beef. As a finishing touch, Peter had opted for rice adorned with some herbs on top. And voila. Lunch was ready.

Sure, the cook might've thought that the sauce was a bit too sour, but judging by the way Henry voraciously shoveled the food into his mouth, that didn't matter much to his partner. Finishing just a little quicker than his son, Henry let out a barely concealed belch, patting his belly.

"Ya always know how to feed yar old man." Henry said contently.

"'F course, pops. A real shame if I couldn't. Though there's still some room for tweakin'." Peter said, eating up as well.

"Nonsense, boy. Few people could rival yar cookin', Pete." Henry nodded along.

"Ma could." Peter said and immediately wanted to kick himself for it.

While he had long accepted his mother's absence - barely remembering her face was tragic, but helped in its own way - for dad it was still a sensitive topic. And would remain one forever, most likely.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean that. Ya know me, I just say what I think, even if it's bullcrap." Peter apologized.

"Nah... besides, ya got me. Yar mums could indeed whip up food that tasted like heaven. But let's not talk about her, aight? The dishes ain't gonna clean 'emselves." Henry stood up with a sad smile.

Well, fuck. That was certainly a blunder. But it happened every now and then. As sad as it was, dad would get over it eventually. He always had.

Moving over to the living room couch, the smell hit them first. There was no airflow touching this space for a good half a day, so the smell of yesterday's escapades was still very strong. Peter smirked as Henry blushed a bit, neither saying a word, just opening up the windows properly.

"Here, pa. Ya pick the show today." the younger man said, plopping onto the couch.

Henry didn't protest in the slightest, enjoying his remote privileges. Sure, he did think himself a bit childish for it, but he had a strong connection to switching the channels himself. It just made him feel like the man of the house. Something he didn't feel often.

Sadly for him, his television time didn't last long as a knock came from the front door. Sharp, but rather restrained. Peter knew immediately who it was while Henry had his suspicions.

"Hello? Pete? We'd need your help for a bit." came from behind the closed doors.

Following the woman's voice, Peter's socks shuffled on the wood, until he pulled open the entrance with a big embrace ready.

"Mary! Nice to see ya, ya little minx. How can I be of service, ma'am?" he gave a mock curtsy.

"Piss off, would you?" she said, chuckling, as she pushed him into the shoulder.

"G'day, Mary. Everythin' aight? Ya got a leaky pipe?" Henry asked after arriving at the scene at his own pace.

"Actually, yes. That's why we need Pete here. The kitchen sink is spraying water all over, so we had to turn the main vent off. Think you can take a look?" Mary gave her best pleading eyes.

"Sure! Be there in a jiffy. I reckon it's only happened today?" Peter asked, grabbing his spare tools from the hallway closet.

"Yup. Pretty much just now, actually. Mums wanted to call, but I convinced her not to. Wasted phone time on a neighbor." Mary shrugged.

"Oh, I see. So I'm good enough to fix y'all's pipes, but not good enough to call? Good to know. And ya call yaself a friend?" Peter said with a fake sob.

Henry smiled at the exchange. He had always been happy over the blossoming friendship the two youngsters had. Certainly one of his son's more normal and responsible contacts. Wanting to give them space, he slowly started retreating back to the living room.

"Aight, ya two. Have fun and good luck!" Henry shouted from behind his shoulder.

"Oh, but you can come too, Mr. Lovegood. Ma even said to invite you along for a visit." Mary chimed in cheerily.

"Yea, c'mon, pa. Why rot in front of the tele. I'm sure Elizabeth will be more than happy to see ya." Peter came up to Henry and grabbed him by his sleeve - pulling.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, but he nodded nonetheless. A mistake. The moment he stepped through the threshold of the neighboring house, a tidal wave of old cigarette smoke hit him. The ceiling and walls yellowing from the repeatedly burning death sticks. And the culprit was sitting on a chair in the kitchen next to an aisle, surrounded by wet rags soaking up the leak from the floor.

"G'day, Petey. To ya too, 'f course, Henry. Make yaselves at home." the old lady said.

Elizabeth managed to burn through four entire packs a day, and her voice reflected that. Honestly, Henry wondered whether there was any soot-free spot left on her lungs. Yet he smiled nonetheless - the perfect practiced grin for a friendly neighbor.

His son, wasting no time, was already on his knees in front of the sink, tools in hand and tinkering. Henry's smile turned genuine at Peter's diligence, pride filling his heart.

"Sorry for that, Petey. If ya need anythin' - water, food, towels or somethin' - just let me or Mary know." Elizabeth said.

"Eh, let ma know. I'll be outside for a bit." Mary said and immediately left.

"'F course, Mrs. Mayweather! Though I have all I need right with me, no worries there." Peter laughed.

"Such a good boy ya have, Henry. I mean, Harold would've fixed it... were he... y'know." she started crying.

"I know, I know. My condolences. It can't be easy for ya." Henry said, patting her back reservedly.

"It ain't... it ain't, Henry. I'm sure ya know it best. But it's... we have almost no money with our breadwinner gone. And I just wish someone understood, y'know? But it's like everyone forgot about us." she hiccuped.

Henry wanted to roll his eyes so bad, but he stopped himself. Honestly, hearing her fake grief felt like the gravest insult she could give, especially compared to how real he felt his own wife's loss. Yeah, Henry was definitely sure that Elizabeth's unemployed husband had brought a lot to the table. Maybe the vodka bottles he had loved so much. Had kissed them more than his wife and daughter combined.

And Henry would've felt pity at all this, were it not for the fact he had overheard the 'poor widow' celebrating when her good-for-nothing mate keeled over. Fucking celebrating! Hearing her moan and whine grated his gears like nothing else, but he wasn't one to cause problems. So he put on his most polite sympathetic face - as he was used to.

"I'm so sorry. That must be so hard for ya." he said.

Granted, this was better than the other conversations which usually took place around his middle-aged peers. Especially around women.

"I know my loss is still very recent. But ya know... ya had a lot of time to process yours. Ya sure ya don't wanna give Petey a step-ma? Might do ya some good too."

And here were the other conversations. Miraculously, Elizabeth wasn't crying anymore. Sadness? As if it had never existed. Having this scenario memorized to the smallest detail, he prepared his rehearsed answers.

"Nah. Me and Petey are fine. Don't really need anyone else." he shrugged.

"But ya have to have someone to cook and clean, no? Two men living together never ends good. Must look like a trash heap over at yars."

Henry suppressed a frown with all of his might.

"We manage, thank ya. If we ever don't - I'll let ya know."

"C'mon, don't be so cold. Y'know, if ya think ya can't nab anyone - yer wrong. I know so many ladies yar age who would pounce on ya if ya let 'em."

"Flatterin'. But still a no." he shook his head.

How long was she going to go on and on? He knew the answer to that - too long. WAY too long. That woman was a chatterbox and a half. He couldn't comprehend how Mary endured her mother on the daily. Desperately looking for something to distract his mind with, he noticed his own son's ass cleavage.

An ordinary case of plumber butt, but fuck if it wasn't hot. His mind went on autopilot answering the widow's questions as he pressed into the aisle he was standing at - urgently trying to hide any sign of a boner forming.

Then again, on second look, maybe it wasn't ordinary plumber butt. Peter was lurching forward with each movement of his wrench, for some reason. Henry knew his son and his plumbing. This wasn't how he usually did things. That brat...

The pants were slowly nudging lower and lower, exposing more and more of the ass cleft. Hairy mounds appeared from beneath the denim expanse, bouncing a bit as the momentum got to them. The jeans were pressing into the flesh insistently, pushing it out even more. The pressure applied from below only made the ass jiggle more with each movement. It couldn't have been comfortable, but it sure was hot... Fucking hell. That boy would be the end of him.

With great willpower, Henry looked back at Elizabeth, trying his best to ignore the pale skin of his son's ass - it didn't help that it stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark tiles of the kitchen.

She was still droning on and on about how much of a pity his widowerhood was. Yet somehow, this was more pleasant than potentially having to explain getting hard at his own son. Did the little provocateur even know what he was doing and what the consequences could be? Honestly, he probably did. And most likely found the possibility exciting. Henry exhaled drearily. Mary had the right idea when she had escaped into the garden right after the work started.

"Aight! All done, Mrs. Mayweather. Should be all good as new! Feel free to try it out! I'mma be outside with Mary for a bit." Peter said, not waiting for an answer as he packed his tools, pulled up his pants and headed outside.

What a handful that man could be.

"Y'know, yar Pete is ripe for marriage too, I reckon. Don't he have a girl?" Elizabeth changed the topic.

"Nah. At least I don't think so... Can't tell ya what he do when he's out in the world for work, but at home? Never had anyone over." Henry shrugged.

"I wouldn't be so sure. The young'uns have different manners these days. Livin' together like a pair of heathens, raisin' children out of wedlock. I'm tellin' ya, that's where all those fake problems come from. Back in our days, we had none of those 'Ey Dee Aitch Dee' things or that 'Global Warming' or whatever. All just their new humbug caused by 'em books and phones. Hopefully Pete ain't so. The city might've gotten to him." she looked at Henry with genuine worry.

The old man didn't know whether to laugh at her or just shake his head in utter disbelief. And this was despite the fact he had heard this out of her mouth so many times. So, with all the seriousness he could muster, he replied in a measured tone.

"Nah, he's fine. A proper man as oughtta be." he placated.

While he thought she was off the rocker, it was sadly the prevalent way of thinking in the quaint little town of theirs. The crushing majority had opinions adjacent to hers; old and young. This fact did not ease Henry's worries - if his relationship with Peter got revealed, they would have a really bad time on multiple fronts. Skipping town might not be enough after that.

"Oh, I'm sure. He's a proper fella, big as a mountain after his pops. Got manners and skills too, the lad. My Mary is similar, but her head is so far away these days. All 'independent' and 'educated'. I reckon she just needs to finally tie the knot. After all, my pops used to say: 'A good tumble in the sheets is enough to tame a lass.' Worked for me." she nodded to herself.

"I'm sure both of 'em will tie the knot once they find their special one. No tumbles or anythin' needed."

"Maybe. Maybe the two of 'em would make a cute couple, 'eh? C'mon, look at 'em! They get along since kindergarten the two. I bet their babies would be real pretty and smart. I would certainly support their union, that's for sure!" she ended the topic with a slap to the aisle.

Henry just stared out of the kitchen window just above the now-repaired sink. He could see Mary and Peter chuckle and talk about who-knows-what. He looked so happy. The way his chest bounced a bit as he laughed - his eyes squinting from joy. Oh, if only Henry could make sure his son was like this forever. No secrets or taboos.

"Yea... I would too."

---

"And then? And then?" Mary asked all curious.

"Then we made out. Let me tell ya, he might be older, but his kisser's so soft... Fuck, wanna smooch him just from thinkin' 'bout it." Peter smirked.

"You horny bastard. And I've seen your pa's lips, no way they're soft!" she protested jokingly.

"What would ya know? Ya old spinster!" he pushed her gently.

"Oh yeah? Want me to try and lose that spinsterhood of mine? How about I do it with your old man?" she smirked this time.

"Yea right. Like he'd go for a stuck-up priss like ya! And don't call him old! Lately, he gets weird about being in his fifties. Dunno what's gotten into him." he looked away.

As much as he had jested, this did genuinely worry him. Both the possibility that dad might want to get with someone else and the overall sensitivity Henry was displaying the past few months. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what...

"Alright, alright, sorry!" she put her hands up defensively.

"Nah, yer good. He do worry me though. I just can't see inside of that thick skull of his..." he shrugged.

"I reckon it'll be just fine. You've been together for what? Seven or eight years? That doesn't just break off easily. But if you want, I can send you one of my articles I wrote on dating." she suggested.

"Oh yea? Do ya have an article on datin' yar pops?" he looked at her with slanted eyebrows.

"I'm afraid not... But again, I'm sure it'll be fine! You have always been like two peas in a pod." she smiled softly.

Peter smiled back, grateful for having someone to talk to about this. As far as he knew (and hoped), she was the only one aware of his and his dad's nonstandard father-and-son relationship. She had taken it surprisingly in stride back when she had found out about it.

Despite growing up in the same town as him, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Thinking-wise, that is. Visually? She fit right in. Her frizzled hair formed a brown halo and her freckles spread all over her cheeks and arms. Green eyes adorned her pale, soft face. The thick-rims of her glasses and the cross on her gold necklace were also very much in accordance with local 'fashion'.

"Thanks... Well, I reckon I'll get pa and we'll get outta yar hair. The sink should be fixed and all. If not, come fetch me again. Always happy to see yar ugly mug." he joked.

"Right. Let me go grab my wallet and pay you." she nodded.

"Nah, no need. What are friends for, no? If I ever need someone to write an article for me, I know I could count on ya just the same." he smiled at her.

"Yeah, like people have articles written all the time. Come on, Pete. Ma will give me an earful if she finds out I let you go without money." she insisted.

"So? Tell her I don't want money. Or even better, tell her ya gave me money and pocket it for yaself. I ain't gonna tell." he laughed a bit and shrugged.

"You're insufferable sometimes... Last chance to accept the money." she said with a small grin.

"Nope! See ya!" he waved at her as he made his way back inside.

Elizabeth proudly showed him the working sink, thanking him profusely. He simply shrugged it off, saying it was nothing and claiming he had already been recompensed. Dad was more than eager to go back home, so the Mayweather house got left behind as they walked back.

But it seemed it was not yet time to stop being social, as a certain figure was standing at their front door, trying to peer inside through the window.

"Paul! Whatcha doin' there, chum?" Peter shouted as soon as he could see the face clear as day.

The man at their entrance turned around, waving with one hand. A messy nest of black hair fluttered with the motion as the slim and veiny figure faced Peter. Paul was certainly looking just as well as ever - so slightly disheveled and deodorantless.

"There ya are! I figured ya weren't home when you didn't hear my knockin', so I wanted to check. Where ya been?" Paul asked.

"Oh, just at Mary's. Fixed their sink." Peter shrugged as he and his dad approached.

"Ah, figures they'd call ya instead of me. But leave some clients left for the rest of us, aight?" Paul said with no real bite in his voice.

"'F course, chum. Wouldn't wanna make ya go outta business."

Peter and Paul met with a side-hug, pressing their hips together. Henry simply walked past them, unlocking the door.

"I'll leave ya two to it. Yer welcome to come in, Paul. Make yaself at home." Henry said before entering the house.

"I'm only here for a bit, so I ain't goin' in. Just wanted to see ya after ya came back from yar trip." Paul nudged Peter's shoulder.

"Mhm, I don't believe ya. We called a few times while I was away and ya never came to visit before when I returned home. What's up?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Shit, chum. Seein' right through my bluff, huh? Can't fool that nose of yars, ya bastard." Paul chuckled.

"That's right! Now stop circlin' round the truth and spill. C'mon, Paul." Peter was the one nudging shoulders now.

"Yea, yea... so like... uuuuh... how do I put it? Is Mary still... y'know... do she have a boo?" Paul asked with reddish cheeks.

"Whoa there, hold yar horses. Yer gunnin' for Mary? Mary Mayweather?" Peter said with disbelief.

"Nah, Mary Titfuck. 'F course I mean Mary Mayweather, ya bastard. What other Mary do we both know?" Paul said, irritated.

"Relax, chum. I'm just surprised is all... Why now, though? Ya've been friends with her and me for a long time. Shouldn't ya know?"

"Well, as far as I know she's still on the market. But I don't talk to her as much as ya. Don't help that there's word all over town that she's actually in a relationship, but keepin' it a secret. People whisper it's ya who she's seein'." Paul looked Peter dead in the eye, awaiting the response with bated breath.

Peter barked out into a loud, prolonged laugh. A few tears sprung from his eyes at the thought.

"Aw, fuck. Me and Mary? Yea, no. That ain't gonna happen and never has happened, I fear. And unless she's keepin' it a secret from me too, she is free like a wild horse."

"Dang. Coulda sworn you woulda tapped her by now." Paul mumbled.

A single punch connected with Paul's shoulder. A rough one at that.

"OW! The fuck was that for, ya bastard?" Paul said, stepping away and rubbing the area of impact.

"For even makin' me think 'bout that shit! I don't wanna imagine fuckin' a friend. Maybe this is why all yar previous girls left ya. All five of 'em." Peter scoffed.

"Aw, don't be such a prude. We all know guys want to get into any pussy they see. It's no secret." Paul shrugged, offended.

"Yea? Be careful I don't turn yar arse into a pussy then, ya perv." Peter just shook his head.

"Gross, dude. What are ya, a fairy?" Paul scowled.

Peter shook his head once more, not wanting to dignify that with a response. Both of the men just stood there, watching the evening sky, their breaths slowly becoming visible in the cooling air. Paul spoke up after a bit.

"Sorry. I just... I'm really excited about Mary still bein' single, ya know?... Ya think I have a chance?" Paul played with the hem on his t-shirt.

"I dunno. Ask her and see how it goes. Just don't talk to her about tappin' or pussies and shit, and ya'll be fine. Ya've been friends forever too, so what's the worst that could happen?" Peter shrugged.

"Yea! I guess yer right. What's the worst that could happen..." Paul smiled slightly.

"'F course I am! Maybe. I dunno, don't take advice from me, I ain't a love master... Honestly, I can't even tell what's wrong with the lady I'm seein'." Peter shrugged sadly, veiling the truth a bit.

"Dude, ya have a chick and ya didn't tell me? Chum... ya wound me. But I think ya'll be fine. If not, ya can always find another pipe to play plumber with." Paul winked.

"Nah. I ain't a hole hopper. It's just that... she gets real fussy 'bout stuff, y'know? Like she apologizes so much. I don't even know what for half the time."

"That's normal. She's prolly worried 'bout bein' with a stud like yaself. Wants to do ya right... Or, well... She could always be cheatin' on ya and tryin' to compensate that way." Paul thought out loud.

"Ya think? I dunno... I'd really hope not. Why even say it?" Peter frowned.

"I'm just sayin' the possibilities. Don't shoot the messenger or somethin'." Paul put his hands up.

"Yeah, yeah. How 'bout ya go shoot yar shot with Mary, hm?"

"I mean, I could. Tomorrow or somethin'. Maybe later... I dunno, dude."

"Nah, yer gonna do it soon, understood? Now yer gonna go home and prepare. Ya got this. Ya can be charmin' if ya want to be. And remember, it ain't gonna be that bad no matter what."

"I guess... I'll just see how it goes, yea... Thanks, chum. Will tell ya more after the deed is done. Have a good one." Paul nodded, giving Peter another side-hug.

"Ya too, chum." Peter hugged back, before crossing the threshold and going inside.

But Paul wasn't done speaking, having spotted something that caught his interest.

"Holy shit, dude. Is that fuckin' Ironman?" Paul pointed to the carving still on the shoe rack.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and looked back. Paul was peering into the house from the open door, his face brightened by the indoor lamps. Guess it wasn't goodbye after all.

"Oh, yea. Forgot to bring it up. It's cool, ain't it?" Peter said as he proudly presented the beautiful figure.

"Man, this looks like quality work. Where'd ya get it? Must cost a fortune." Paul said as he leaned into the house through the door.

"Oh, I got it from a family friend. He's a fuckin' master at handlin' wood, let me tell ya." Peter boasted.

That caused Paul's face to fall, his mutton chops dipping alongside the corners of his mouth. His black eyebrows furrowed as the prominent veins on his arms pulsated a bit.

"Dude, ya don't mean fuckin' Weirdo Ivan, do ya?" Paul said with a hushed tone.

"'F course I mean Ivan. And he ain't a weirdo. He's just a loner." Peter retorted.

"Dude, I've told ya 'bout him! Ya shouldn't meet up with him anymore. Neither should yar pa." Paul hissed.

"Oh, fuck off. Not more rumors. Ya know those ain't true! Like the one 'bout me and Mary." Peter rolled his eyes.

"Listen to me, bastard! He's dangerous that lad. People in town don't trust him where they can throw him. Why do ya think he be livin' all alone in the woods somewhere?"

"Probably to not deal with the gossip that you keep hearin' everywhere!"

"Peter, I know ya don't care what people have to say 'bout others. Ya make that very clear. But I do and I have to warn ya."

It was true that Peter nipped any rumor talk straight in the bud. Most people had learned that very quickly and stopped even trying to go down that route with him. But Paul was the opposite in that regard. Honestly, that was probably why some locals still preferred him for plumbing jobs.

"Paul, again, I don't trust yar hearsay."

"No, but listen! How do ya think he makes money? Ya think sellin' wood makes him enough to survive? Nah. Apparently, he waits for tourists to come close to his territory. And then he strikes! Like a fuckin' snake. He takes all their stuff - especially their wallets. Since they're far away, nobody will know they were here and won't come lookin' for 'em. But that ain't even the worst of it. How do ya think he copes with bein' alone? Well, I'll tell ya how! After he takes everythin' his victims have, he starts to drag 'em back to his secret cave, hidden deep in the woods. To make it even more disgustin', he only targets fellas! Can ya believe it? I can feel my skin crawl just thinkin' 'bout it! And when he has 'em, he starts undressin' 'em and-" Paul's passionate rumormongering gets interrupted.

"Yea, that's enough of that. I ain't listenin' to yar fairy tales no more." Peter interjected with a tired sigh.

"This ain't tales! It's true!" Paul insisted.

"Paul, go home. Get some shut-eye. Maybe ya'll see how ridiculous ya are sometimes."

Paul got slightly red in the face again - this time he trembled and his brows got all bushy and furrowed. But he exhaled - slowly and loudly - before turning on his heel.

"I just hope ya don't pay for yar stupidity. Everyone in town knows but ya! One day, ya'll see just how big of a menace Weirdo Ivan really is." Paul huffed and then stomped off into the darkness.

Peter only watched as the short black mop of hair got smaller and smaller, until it was fully lost in the dimming daylight.

What a pain that man could be at times. But it'd be alright. People would get new rumors to talk about and it would all blow over. And Paul would get the stick out of his ass by then as well... hopefully.

Closing the door properly, the wooden boards creaked under Peter's socked soles - his shoes and the wooden carving both left at the rack - as he moved towards the kitchen. Dad was being particularly loud for some reason. Dishes clattered and so did silverware. A soft microwave buzz permeated any would-be silent moment.

Peeking into the room, he saw Henry preparing dinner, already reheating the leftovers from lunch.

"Oh? Ya done?" dad asked, but did not pause what he was doing.

"Yea. He was bein' a bit of a prick. But he'll get over it. Got his panties in a twist, give it a day. Maybe two." Peter said, more for himself.

"Mhm. Happens. Sit. We're gonna eat soon." Henry commanded softly.

Shortly after Peter took his seat, so did his dad. The food steamed in the plates in front of them, their stomachs growling. While the taste was a lot blander than when it was freshly cooked, they nevertheless shoveled it down in minutes. Peter volunteered for dish duty, as Henry begrudgingly obliged and walked off into the living room.

After everything was cleaned and put away, Peter did not hesitate before pivoting to a different plan of action. He shimmied his jeans and underwear impossibly low - covering only about half of his posterior - and grabbed a root beer for dad.

Swerving into the living room, he purposefully positioned himself in front of Henry and bent down really low to place it onto the table - so low, his hand had to come up to put the bottle down. He looked back, trying to gauge his dad's reaction.

His target was looking away, hypnotized by a stain on the wall. Oh, come on! And Peter was trying to be so obvious too. Well, then he'd have to be extremely upfront about it.

Simply walking back, he let himself fall onto his dad's lap, grinding into Henry's crotch. He made sure to be very rough with it - impossible to ignore.

"C'mon, pops. I know ya was lookin' at my arse before. Why hide it?" Peter taunted.

"I had to hide it 'cause of that old hag, ya prick!" Henry shouted loudly, voice laced with frustration.

Peter's confusion was palpable as he stilled his movements. He didn't mean that, but now he was curious what dad was talking about. A little hint of guilt and worry added themselves to the mix too.

"Whad'ya mean?"

"I mean yar stunt from before! How did ya expect me to explain that I was lookin' deep into my own boy's crack?"

"Why would ya have to explain? Everyone looks at a plumber's arse when it shows up durin' work. It's normal."

"Not when yar pecker wants to escape yar pants it ain't! Ya had me sweatin' bullets, son."

"Nobody can see yar mast through 'em baggy pants of yars, pops. C'mon now."

"They coulda! Ya never know!"

Peter didn't respond, just sighed. He looked at his dad for a long time before finally deciding to turn around. His legs framed Henry's body, but his ass remained firmly planted on his pa's thighs.

"Sorry, pops. I just wanted ya to relax a bit. Old hag was pesterin' ya again." Peter said, nuzzling his face into his dad's beard.

Henry wanted to stay serious and annoyed, but he couldn't. A wide smile slowly blossomed on his face. His beard was his sensitive spot - whether for kissing, combing, grasping, anything. Smart brat.

"So will ya rail me now?" Peter got back on track as he started to grind again.

"Ya have a one-track mind, Pete."

"Nah, I don't. I just don't want ya to forget what ya have home." Peter kissed the tip of Henry's nose and reached backwards, under the table, aiming for their living room stash.

The bottle of lube - already half empty despite having been placed there only a month or so prior - popped open. Peter applied a generous coating of it on his fingers as he started working himself open with his digits.

"Oh, I'm real tight after two weeks of no action. Three, technically, since ya refused to let me bottom before a work trip." Peter rolled his eyes.

Then, a twist. A surprised grunt came from the younger man's throat as Henry pulled him onto the couch fully. Dad's body was now fully hovering over Peter. Imitating what his son had done before, Henry lathered his fingers with a generous amount of lube and pressed them in. Two at once.

The bottom's eyes closed tightly for a second, trying to accommodate dad's thick sausage fingers in his hole, but the familiarity of the feeling and his own experience made that process very short. Soon enough, he was openly sighing, sometimes even moaning softly.

"Pete? Can I be honest with ya?" Henry asked, not stopping his movements.

Peter opened his eyes, but only nodded, finding it hard to phrase words, let alone sentences right now.

"It do make my hair gray faster, but still... I appreciate how forward ya are. I envy it, even. Only a few people can go and get what they want. So I'm proud of ya for bein' all open 'bout it." Henry smiled.

The lust-filled fog cleared for a bit in Peter's mind as he processed his dad's words. But shortly after, he started smiling too. It truly warmed his heart more than anything to see his dad so happy. Because of him...

"Thanks, pa. I try. Now, to be forward, can I tell ya how much I missed yar pecker in my pucker? C'mon, pops, skip the fingers and press it in!" Peter spread his legs further than they already were.

"C'mon, Pete, I don't wanna hurt ya. But that reminds me - did ya even clean out today?" Henry frowned.

"Oh! Well... uh... nah? Just some shallow cleanin' in the shower. That a problem?" Peter chuckled awkwardly.

"Well... I guess we'll just have to prepare for surprises, if anythin'. It's aight." Henry shrugged.

While dad tried to be responsible and considerate, Peter could see his dad's urges very clearly. Even he was just a human. And he really had been right - the outline of his erect head, faint as it may have been, was nevertheless visible through his cargo pants.

Henry started scissoring his son's ass with his fingers, spreading the hole out slowly, but surely. Thankfully, it was already stretchy enough from the years of play it had experienced. His other hand played with his zipper, getting stuck. Dad was clearly in a hurry.

But eventually, he managed to undo it. His thick cock, already leaking copiously, was freed from its confines and right away lubed up generously. It glistened in the flickering light from the TV as Henry placed his dick at the entrance.

"May I?" he asked, barely restraining himself.

"Push it in, pops!" Peter egged him on.

That was all the permission needed. With one, fluid motion Henry sheathed himself fully. Peter's insides fit him like a glove. It was so tight and warm and moist and... familiar. The walls clenched as if trying to pull him in even deeper. His legs were already shaking and his breathing grew erratic as he tried to calm himself.

"That's it, pops!" Peter said, trying to catch his breath too.

He had been just as affected, his eyes having rolled back for a bit as the push came. And now the stretchy feeling, pushing against his insides. Fuck, it felt good to have a cock up his ass again. Well, not just any cock. Dad's cock.

"Ya feel real good, hun. Here. I'll start movin', yea?" dad asked, already bucking his hips a bit.

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to do this for long. His balls were already churning. It's as if they had recognized they were in his beloved's ass - right where they wanted to be. They knew they were home.

"Son... I ain't gonna last. Sorry." Henry apologized preemptively, barely catching his breath.

"Ya think I am!?" Peter exclaimed, panting as well.

Henry grunted, grabbing his son's pants and underwear and yanking them upwards. A dripping mast was revealed as it stood proudly, leaking all over Peter's shirt. Then the old man wrapped his calloused hand around it and began stroking - in the rhythm of his motions.

"Oh... Oh f-... I can't anymore... I'm sorry..." Henry sighed out.

Their bodies were meeting up at breakneck speed, both of them unaware how they had even escalated this quickly. But with the same alacrity, gushing hot cum shot into Peter's bowels as Henry nearly toppled over on the couch, his hips cramping up.

Peter wasn't too far behind as both the insistent stroking and the spreading warmth inside coaxed his own release out of him. It shot over his clothes, some of it landing on the couch as well, covering them with white stains.

They touched as Henry's body finally gave in, result in him falling onto Peter. His son eagerly embraced him into his arms, keeping him close as they tried - and failed - to come down from their euphoric high. It was quick, sure, but it was long overdue for the both of them. They hadn't even thought about uncoupling, enjoying the feeling of being connected.

The couch would definitely need a cleaning again after today and yesterday, but it was a worthy price to pay. Sweat pooled between their bodies from their short exertion, cooling them both down and mixing with Peter's release. All sticky, their skin clung together firmly - like glue. But they weren't bothered by their current state - quite the opposite. In that moment, they would readily choose to stick to each other like this forever.

Their eyes were locked in a mutual stare, neither of them wanting to tear away. The uncomfortable, clammy feeling caused them to press together more, as if trying to claim the heat of the other body, combating the cooling moisture. Lips met once more, tongues finding their way around each other, swirling and trailing lines. Wet squelches came whenever the two mouths split apart, only to crash back together in a few seconds of breathing time.

An impromptu make-out session had not been planned by Peter, but he considered it more than welcome. Especially since dad seemed to be equally into it. But this bliss was interrupted as Henry's cock got so soft it plopped out of his boy's hole with a loud, wet sound. The semen slowly started dribbling out of the winking anus, only serving to dirty the couch more. This, to Henry, was the sign to stop.

With both of his arms, he quickly hoisted Peter and himself up into a sitting position, rotating his son onto his lap so that he was facing the TV too.

"All good, Pete? No pain or anythin', hun?" Henry asked, gently caressing the hairy cheeks pressing into him.

"Yea. More than good. Fantastic." Peter laughed as he leaned back for another short kiss.

"Good. Glad to hear it. Ya were fantastic too, hun. Wanna stay with me for a bit and watch the tele? We can go shower a bit later, hm?" Henry said as he reached for the graciously placed root beer.

"Sure, honeybuns. What's on?" Peter asked, adjusting himself to get comfortable.

"I forgot, honestly. We can watch somethin' ya'd like, hm? My brain is still too damn fogged up to really pay attention." Henry chuckled, taking a swig.

The bottle entered Peter's field of vision, tilting slightly, Henry's hand aiming for his son's lips. The younger man didn't hesitate before taking a mighty amount of the delicious liquid into his mouth, expanding his cheeks. Turning around, he pressed into his dad's face again. Their tongues met as the liquid got passed from Peter to Henry, the old man gulping it down readily. After they separated, an adoring look appeared on dad's face.

"Yer really gonna be the end of me, son."

Chapter Text

A little less than 8 years ago...

November was here, the trees nearly completely naked, save for the stubborn conifers. The Lovegood house was still a bit messy from Peter's birthday party. Only one more year and he could officially drink alcohol! Not that he really cared about that - one bad experience with the devil's brew was enough.

His new plumbing business was booming, but he had already fixed most problems in town, which meant a quiet day was on the horizon. Nothing he could complain about as a noise woke him up - his eyes were still bleary from the little sleep he managed to get. He nevertheless sat up on his bed, the old springs creaking. Dad had wanted to buy him something newer, maybe splurge on one of those premium mattresses, but he had refused. They needed to save money for more important things.

It's not as if they were particularly poor, but Henry had struggled for years to bring them the comfort they were able to have now. Peter would not start getting all wasteful just because he had a source of income too. Even if it had already been 2 years since his first venture into the working world.

With a limp hand, he reached for his alarm clock, squinting through his blurry vision. Oh fuck, he had overslept. Dad would already be leaving. With newfound life, he got onto his feet at the speed of light, rushing out of his room and down the stairs. He had noticed dad's room was already opened and empty. Shit.

Thankfully, the wanted man was only just about to leave. The soft thuds of socks on wood accelerated as Peter grabbed his dad's hand at the exact moment when the handle got gripped.

"Pa... Did ya... did ya eat? Need me to make ya somethin'?" Peter asked, trying to catch his breath.

Henry smiled gently as the skin around his eyes crinkled. He brought a hand up and squeezed his son's shoulder with it.

"I ate, don'tcha worry. And why aren't ya sleepin'? Ya went to bed way late last night! Not even - ya went to bed today! Go back and get some rest, sonny." Henry chastised ever so softly.

"Ya went to bed later than me! Besides, I'm already up, might as well stay up. Ya coulda woken me up! Coulda cooked ya somethin' proper..." Peter's face dropped.

"Humbug, son. My birthday boy oughtta get his rest! Yar old man can take care of himself, don'tcha worry! Now, I'm off to work. Go and sleep, aight?" Henry concluded the discussion.

He didn't give Peter a chance to reply as he simply ruffled his son's bedhead and closed the door firmly behind him after stepping out. The silence of the house descended upon the remaining man.

Yeah, right. Peter wasn't about to laze around in bed like some bum while dad worked his ass off! He quickly scanned the entrance hall. Squeaky clean. Of course. Dad must have remained up, tidying up after the party when Peter had already fallen asleep. Wait, but he had helped clean too. And then he had wanted to rest his eyes on the couch a bit... and then darkness. The next memory was that of this morning. Fuck, had dad carried him up to bed too?

A frustrated huff escaped his mouth as he combed through his messy hair. His shoulders slumped. But he wasn't about to give up - he started looking through the rest of the house. Kitchen? Clean. Living Room? Clean. Yard? Clean. Everything was clean! Annoying, but expected. How long had dad even stayed up, that madman?

Dropping onto the couch with a dissatisfied grumble, he huffed and looked around, his mind wandering. Was there anything left to do around the house? The fridge was fully stocked, despite the party - Dad's foresight in action. Nothing was broken. Then his eyes happened upon the potted plant sitting silently on the windowsill. He walked over and put his finger into the soil. Dry. Dry! Yes, dad must've forgotten to water the plants!

Not wasting a single second, Peter ran off into the kitchen and filled an old bottle with tap water. Hauling it around with him, he wandered through the entire house, properly taking care of every single speck of vegetation he could. But that wasn't enough. It barely took half an hour!

He started brainstorming again. This time, it was easier. Tons of little chores came into his mind, giving him an agenda to fill the rest of his day with. Making his bed; changing their sheets; fluffing dad's pillows; mowing the still-short grass on their yard; preparing ingredients for lunch and more.

Truly, he got into the groove of things and was more than happy to be able to keep busy. By the time he got onto the couch again, he was all sticky and a bit exhausted. The lack of proper sleep did not help. But he'd keep going. Dad was still not home. And Henry had it a lot harder than him - since winter was coming, dad would be working in his office a lot more. Pa hated working indoors. And yet he kept doing it.

Every time Henry returned home, a smile was plastered on his lips, all cheery and sunny. Even when his legs were shaking from exertion or when his stomach growled like a chainsaw, he would always first ask about Peter. Annoying. All of that was so annoying. But also so utterly warm and kind. Peter couldn't help but smile at the memories.

Yet that was one more reason to get up and work some more. Laundry was still waiting for him. Not as much as it would usually take for them to fire up the washing machine, but still sizable. He went upstairs and brought the dirty rags from the bathroom into the laundry. First would be sorting them all into neat piles based on color. Though he also liked to take his time with each item and properly inspect it. Reminisce.

Most of the clothes were his, so nothing too special. Run-of-the-mill shirts and jeans, some dirtier than the others. But then he came to dad's articles. First was a wide, yet somehow still stretched-out plaid flannel shirt. It was damp all over, probably from a day working in the rain. The colors were already all bleached out, but dad insisted on wearing this one until it crumbled to dust - saying a new shirt would just be a waste of money. With a sigh and gentle smile, he set it aside to its appropriate pile.

Then came an undershirt. A small speck of blood adorned the top of it. Peter could precisely remember where it came from, considering it had happened only two days ago. Dad had been shaving - well, more like trimming his beard to appear more classy - and had nipped his skin a bit. Peter absentmindedly rubbed his own stubble. He was so glad he sprouted some facial hair - finally. He had always been so dejected at not being able to grow a beard, to the point where he had almost jumped to the ceiling when he had seen the first follicles push out. He could finally be just like dad. The undershirts was set down with a wide grin on his face.

Next, a pair of cargo pants. The pockets were a nightmare to check, but Peter was a thorough person, so he would not rest until he explored each nook and cranny. And he was in luck - while most of the search yielded nothing, one pocket had some chestnuts in it... These were from Peter. He had given them to dad around the start of October, mainly because they looked really pretty and round. He hadn't known dad still had them. Gently setting them aside, he sorted the pants as well.

Finally came a pair of khaki boxers. They were quite clean, mostly just a bit damp where they had rested in dad's crevices, especially around the stretched out fabric on the backside. How was even here the waistband stretched out? He knew his dad was a big man, but this huge? Honestly, pa put most men in the cities Peter visited to shame.

Not that it was a particularly hard feat to do. From the two years that Peter had traveled to various cities, he found out people over there are a lot more open to 'experimentation'. And while he had had some nice fucks, his hookups were all terrible matches. Visually some came close to dad, but personality-wise? No chance. They were all either greedy or stuck-up or cowardly or selfish or... the list went on and on. Dad was none of those. Sure, he had his issues, but he was a stand-up and virtuous man! The same sadly couldn't be said about Peter himself.

As was tradition with laundry when dad wasn't home, instead of setting the boxers down, he pocketed them. He would simply add them into the hamper next time or just wash them individually. One of the piles started its cycle as he left the remaining clothes on the floor, walking back to his room and slowly starting to pick out the piece of worn underwear again.

Did he feel guilty? Maybe. But he couldn't help himself. The bed springs groaned another time on that day as he inspected the cloth in his hands. It was clearly very worn-out, but for dirty laundry, it was still quite clean. At least to the eye, there was only dampness to be seen. Peter's nose told him another story, though.

The smell of sweat wafted from the fabric - nothing but a testament of dad's hard work. That man never stopped moving. Be it at home or at his job, everyone relied on him. And as much as Peter hated to admit it, even he himself relied on dad so much. He was still finding his bearings as a freelancer, be it with the law or business practices. Dad had always supported him, be it through knowledge or just by providing a safety net.

And that is exactly what Henry's sweat smelt like to him. A reminder of his dad's kindness and diligence. He blushed a bit as he imagined his father. So handsome. Broad, strong shoulders. Tall like a mountain - second tallest person he had seen in his life. Covered in a forest of hair, an epitome of manliness. Soft contours around his chest and belly. Thick, robust thighs that could probably crush melons if they wanted to. Calloused, but somehow gentle hands. Wide feet with similar callouses, which were usually covered because dad was a bit ashamed of how they looked.

All of that and more was Henry... his most beloved dad. How could anyone even compare to him? Every time Peter had fucked or gotten fucked, his partner would inevitably get judged based on Henry. And how could they not? Near perfection was hard to forget.

Peter brought the underwear to his nose slowly. He inhaled. Heaven. Dad's musk was extremely unique in its smell. Tangy, slightly sour, but so warm and overpowering. Faint traces of soap and other products were also in the mix. In his current state, Peter simply reached down with his free hand and pulled his dick out, which was already erect.

The cinema in his mind started playing. He imagined Henry on the couch on a particularly hot summer day, only clad in his boxers. They were all soaked from sweat and left nothing up to interpretation. Granted, he had never seen dad's dick, but it must have been big. Maybe a ten-inch monster, thick like a beer can? Fuck, dad probably would pack something like that down there. Sadly, Peter had never managed to catch a glimpse, not once! The tragedy. Oh well, his fantasy would have to do.

Dad would be manspreading in the living room, giving Peter access to see whatever his eye could reach. And he would - in this daydream, he'd actually have the balls and would kneel down in front of dad. He'd press his face firmly into the pouch so tantalizingly presented to him.

And dad would smile. He'd simply smile and push his boxers away, letting his cock - now erect and comically proportioned - slap against Peter's forehead. Fuck, it'd be so leaky and wet and hard and... so fucking delicious. Peter stroked himself harder, his fist reaching the base of his penis as his precum resounded with wet squelches.

When he would be kneeling there, dad's leaking behemoth on his face, maybe Henry would smile. What if he had a cocky smile? Maybe he'd know just what a cocksucking slut Peter really wanted to be for him. Sadly, dad was too nice to actually act like this in reality, but a man could dream.

He wouldn't even ask - Henry would just position his leaking dick lower and push it past Peter's lips, not waiting for permission. And the youngster would take it - he'd open his throat as wide as he could just for dad to skullfuck him from his comfy couch. Henry wouldn't even look at him, just keep watching TV. Peter's breathing would cut off at times from how dad's thick anaconda fully filled out his esophagus. His insides would be working, gulping around the rod, desperately trying to swallow as dad would pummel away. Dad probably had a fat nutsack as well.  Maybe it would slap against his chin as he took as much of the battering ram into his throat as he could.

Fuck, Peter couldn't hold it anymore. His hips started bucking on his bed and his dick was leaking copious amounts of liquid. His hand was shaky as was his breath. Then, the climax approached as his toes curled, his ass instinctively clenching and his back arching into the air.

In his fantasy, he had to conclude it, he had to. He was so fucking close. And all it took was for Henry's eyes to soften and one sentence to escape from his lips.

"Come for me, son."

That was it. That was the key to Peter's orgasm. His eyes glazed over and his mouth went agape. Breathing was suddenly impossible as rope after rope of his own searing cum painted his clothes.

His lungs relaxed after a bit, causing him to inhale sharply and deeply - directly filling his insides with the smell of dad's underwear. This only helped prolong his orgasm as in his newfound climax, he couldn't help but shout.

"I'm comin', pops! I'm comin' for ya! Pa!" he screamed into the emptiness of the room.

"Pete!?" fantasy Henry exclaimed.

Wait... that wasn't fantasy Henry. That was coming from his actual room, which apparently wasn't as empty as he had thought. Panicked, he looked down, removing the underwear from his face.

Sure enough, dad was there in the door, his eyes wide and mouth just as open as Peter's was earlier. His throat worked and multiple times he had inhaled, only for no words to come out. Peter was similarly speechless, more so from fear. Fuck, what now? Dad should have never known. This wasn't part of the fantasy.

But there was no hint of anger on Henry's features, just surprise and confusion. Slowly, Peter could see his dad's face morph. Guilt and pity seemed to join the mixture as a gentle voice drifted from the room's entrance.

"Ah, uh... I... Sorry, I shoulda knocked. I came home to fetch somethin' and just heard yar bed creakin' and stuff... thought ya was in trouble. Uh... I'll leave ya to it." Henry's smile didn't reach his eyes as he nearly closed the door.

"Wait up! I mean... Is that it? Don't ya... Don't ya have anythin' more to say?" Peter sat up on his bed, unsure of what was even happening.

"I mean... I figured ya were... battin' for that team. Didn't think I'd confirm it like this... I sure as hell didn't. But it's aight. I won't tell, don't worry." dad gave him an unconvincing wink.

"No, I mean..." Peter stammered.

Dad was ignoring the elephant in the room. This was his underwear. He had to have known this. Peter wore boxer-shorts, not boxers and this was clearly something that belonged to Henry. But what even was the question that Peter wanted to ask? Thankfully, he didn't have to formulate it.

"I... I know... Don't worry, I know it's just... there must not be a lot of strappin' lads in the area, I know. Ya probably had to resort to... to my... y'know. It's okay, I understand. We all need our fix." Henry shrugged.

But they both knew that this cleared up nothing. Peter did not believe Henry and even Henry did not believe Henry. A heavy sight came from the door as it closed even more, leaving behind a single crack.

"Listen, it's fine. I ain't mad or anythin'... let's just not speak of it again. I ain't known for speakin' well - ya know that already. That was more yar ma. So I'll just... we'll just pretend this didn't happen, aight? I'll know to knock in the future. Sorry. Again." Henry rambled off and finally shut the door fully.

Quick footsteps echoed through the house as dad rushed down the stairs - entrance door slamming behind him. And that was it. Peter had been caught red-handed. But he couldn't just ignore this. Who could? They had to have some sort of talk about what had just occurred, no matter how much he hated the idea.

---

How was Henry even supposed to go inside? He had been standing in front of the entrance door for a good five minutes now, swaying from leg to leg. Many times he had reached for the handle, and many times he had let his hand fall. What was there even left to say? Was he supposed to act in any special way? Maybe just pretend it hadn't happened? Truly, no amount of parental advice from his peers had prepared him for this. Maybe Caroline would have known what to do in a situation like this... She had always been good at defusing any pickle she had found herself in.

But now was not the time to grieve. Peter must have been in a troubled state as well. He had been spotted with his father's underwear by said father. Henry couldn't even begin to imagine how his son must have felt in that moment.

Yet the most troubling part of all of this was Henry's own reaction. Why the fuck had he gotten aroused by the sight? What more than fifteen years without an outlet did to a man... He had barely managed to cover his bulge with the door. Fuck... hopefully Peter hadn't seen it. It would have made this entire situation even more awkward to wade through.

Henry inhaled. He would be alright. Exhale. He could do this. If not him, then who? Nobody. He slapped his cheeks a bit, giving them a rose tint, as he steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation.

The door opened. Peter was marching around in the hallway. His eyes locked directly onto Henry's frame, as a determined look radiated from them. Oh fuck, this was happening a lot faster than the ill-prepared father had anticipated.

"Where have ya been, pa? It's been half an hour since ya were supposed to get home." Peter questioned with a fiery gaze.

"I got delayed a bit on the way... a bit of an inconvenience." Henry said, not wanting to outright lie.

"I could see ya come home, y'know? Ya were standin' there, at the door, for a good half an hour, pops." Peter said, crossing his arms.

Had it really been for that long? Henry could've sworn it was a lot shorter.

"Well, uh..." the old man was stumped.

"Yer avoidin' me, aren't ya? 'Cause of what ya saw."

Fucking hell, Peter really had to go for the jugular like that, huh? Oh well, as uncomfortable as this was, at least they'd get it over with soon. Henry closed the door behind him and fully turned to face his son.

"Well... kinda? A bit? Look, sonny, I'm just a bit afraid of what I'm gonna say, that's all."

"Don't be. We're gonna say what we're gonna say. It's best this happens now, yea?" Peter fixed him with a steadfast glare.

"Right... So... I know ya like fellas. Not sure if ya like gals too, but ya definitely like the lads. I gathered that much." Henry starts, speaking slowly.

"Yea. Sorry for not telling ya earlier. Just never felt like it was a good time for talkin' 'bout it, y'know?" Peter shrugged, looking away for the first time.

"That's aight, son. I've had a fella or two in my young'un years as well, no worries."

Henry smiled reassuringly at Peter. Maybe this would turn out to be easier than he had thought.

"Damn. I didn't know that. But... the fella I want to have is ya, pops."

Fuck.

"Listen, I'm sure ya mean it well and I appreciate the compliment, but ya oughtta find a proper lad for yaself. Yer confused 'cause ya probably don't have any lads in the area who ya like. But it's okay, give it time to make the right choice. And no, yar old man is definitely not the correct choice." Henry frowned.

"No, pops, ya don't understand. I've been with plenty of guys in the city. But none are like ya. Not even in the same league, pops." Peter shook his head.

"Pete. Do ya hear yaself? Yer pinin' for yar old man here. Most likely, yer just thankful and are confusin' it. Don't worry, it'll pass. Ya'll see." Henry gave his best reassuring smile and closed the distance between them to place his steady hand onto Peter's shoulder.

Peter took it a step further and embraced his dad in a tight hug. Henry was a tad startled, but bounced back quickly, embracing his son in a similar manner.

"It's not just me bein' thankful. Don't get me wrong, I am. But I just think yer... yer really handsome, pops. People would've gone to war for ya back in the day. And yer really friggin' strong too. I know ya don't think I notice, but I know ya've been tryin' to cut down on sweets and pastries. I saw the look ya give yaself in the mirror. It shows, and ya do look great now, but ya looked just as great before too, pops." Peter confessed.

A hint of red covered Henry's cheeks as he struggled with a response. It had been a while since someone had complimented him - earnestly complimented him, not just because he was up for marriage and some woman was lonely. It felt nice to be recognized... to have his efforts appreciated. But he had to push back somehow, this was not just innocent flattery.

"Sonny, I know ya mean well. And yer handsome too. But ya'll find an even better boy, I know ya will." Henry whispered.

"No! I won't! I ain't leavin' ya behind! Besides, there's no one better than ya, pops! And it's unfair that ya don't have anyone to remind ya. Have ya seen Harold? He can barely lift his arse from the couch without pissin' himself from the amount of alcohol in his veins, yet he still has a wife and daughter that stay by his side. So why don't ya, hm? Ya deserve someone. Someone to be with ya through thick or thin." Peter's shouts abated into a quiet ministration as he was talking.

"Pete... Ya know nobody could replace yar ma. None of 'em gals out there come near her in any way. And besides, yer already my partner, no? Ya cook for me and ya clean for me. Don't think I didn't see the house all tidy. Ya are the only one who I need. And when yer ready to leave the nest, I'll be there too, ready to let ya go. And if ya ever need yar pops, I'll be here. And I'll be fine on my own."

"No, ya won't! And again - I'm not leavin', no sir! If I hadn't been here, who woulda bandaged your hands when yar callouses were all bloody? Yar palms were red from all the work ya'd done, pops! I've never heard of that happen before. Who's gonna make sure ya make it home? Who's gonna have warm food ready for ya? I'm not leavin' ya!" Peter stomped his foot into the ground for effect.

"Sonny..." was all Henry could muster.

"Pops. Pa. Ya deserve someone to take care of ya. To pamper and spoil ya. Besides, yer a grown man. A man has his needs. Ya have 'em too, no? And yet I've never heard ya jerk it! Not once! Not any suspicious tissues or socks or rags or anythin'! Never even a moan or a gasp! Ya can't just go 'round bein' pent-up like this!" Peter protested.

Henry stayed silent. Peter was wrong - dad did indeed masturbate. But it was mostly mechanical. Just another chore. Rubbing one out, cleaning up and going about his day. But it would be a lie if he said he didn't desire sex... It had been so fucking long since he last felt the intimate warmth of another. And as much as he hated to admit it... his son was a fine looking stud. A proper man in his youthful prime. But this was wrong! He shouldn't have had thoughts like this! Before his internal self-admonishment could continue, Peter somehow pressed himself even closer - a knee in-between Henry's thighs.

"Pa... I can't force ya to do anythin' or want anythin'. But I ain't gonna lie - I do like ya. And I love ya. And... I wanna sleep with ya. What ya do with that information is up to ya... But tell me, does it really bother ya that much that I'm into ya?"

"I..." Henry started, but never finished.

He didn't want to lie. Not to Peter. Never to Peter. But he couldn't just say the truth and admit that... he liked it. That it made him feel desired and wanted and... aroused. Fucking hell, he had to stop!

"Pops. I'm gonna go to bed. And I ain't gonna stop pinin' for ya. G'night."

Peter disentangled himself from his dad and proceeded to brashly walk up the stairs. The door to his room slammed shut.

Henry remained standing on the spot. His hands clenched into tight fists as he processed what all had happened. He had to digest his own feelings too. Peter ought to have let it go - be a bit ashamed maybe, yet let it go. But no, the bugger was more stubborn than anyone he knew.

This discussion wasn't over. It couldn't be. Henry ran up the steps himself, yanking open the door to Peter's room. The son turned around from his bed, slightly startled. They looked at each other for a bit, both unsure of what was to happen.

"Pete... Do ya enjoy tormentin' yar old man?" Henry asked, frowning.

The very same frown soon appeared on the other man's face too as Henry moved over to Peter's bed, sitting on it. Being face to face with his only son, the unresolved conversation swirling around in the air weighed them down.

"Pops, there ain't anythin' to talk about. We've both said our piece. I won't stop lovin' ya. I'm sorry ya had to see it this way, but I'm not ashamed of havin' the hots for my pa. Not when my pa is ya."

"Sonny... is there really no way for ya to reconsider? Nothin' that I can do to finally get through that stubborn head of yars? Tell me, boy. I really wanna help ya through this."

"Help me through this, huh? Well, pops, I honestly don't think there's anythin' to be done. I can't think of a single thin' that would help."

"Then we oughtta think harder, boy. I ain't just gonna leave this be." Henry shook his head.

"'F course ya won't... But... I guess... ya know, I have heard a couple of times that it's the thrill of the forbidden that makes some lads pine. And after they get what they want, they ain't interested no more. It's not my case, I don't think. But it certainly is the only thing I can think of right now." Peter shrugged.

Get what they want? As in... as in Henry was just supposed to go along with this? Wouldn't that make things worse?

But... maybe it was worth a shot.

"Aight." Henry nodded solemnly.

"Aight? Wait, ya mean it?" Peter asked, perplexed.

"Yea... I mean, it's worth a shot. If that gets me outta yar head, then I'll do it."

Henry had further questions, but those stayed lodged in his throat ever since Peter got onto his knees immediately, positioning his head in-between dad's thick thighs. With deft movements, he started undoing the fly on the cargo pants.

"Whoa, uh... yer fast with it, Pete." Henry stammered out.

"Well, yea. If I take my time, ya could change yar mind. I ain't gonna let this chance pass me by."

Saying that, Peter took out his dad's cock from its underwear hideaway, through the fly, out into the air. It was already somewhat stiff, slowly gaining in mass. The young man stopped, his eyes full of wonder and honest admiration as he took in the sight. So much smaller than his fantasies, yet somehow even more alluring. Henry really wished to see just what his son was seeing while he was nearly dying of shame at the gesture. He was getting hard... for his son. His own flesh and blood. If anyone found out, that'd be the end of them. They'd have to move away immediately. He looked out of the window, paranoia kicking in as he tried to spot any wayward pair of eyes somehow looking onto the intimate scene.

His focus was shattered immediately the moment he felt a pair of practiced lips roll over his shaft, his long-neglected head now enveloped in Peter's velvety cushion of a mouth. He nearly doubled over at the sensation. How he had forgotten just how good it felt to fuck...

Peter released the prick from his mouth with a pop, licking the precum dribbles coming out of the slit. His hand was already in his pants, rummaging around and playing with himself - squeezing, fondling and stroking. He looked like he was in utter bliss. No worries to be seen.

"I always imagined what ya'd taste like, pops. And ya did not disappoint. Ya never do. This is better than any daydream or hookup."

With a smack of his lips, Peter delved in again, surrounding the growing length once more in his orifice. His tongue pressed into and danced all around the flesh, tasting all the years of jerking off and the sweat of the current day. Henry finally understood just how much his son got around these days. One did not develop this skill overnight.

Soft moans escaped from his throat as he could feel his balls already filling, ready to shoot. He had missed this so much. He hated how much he was enjoying it, but it felt too good to stop now. A low groan followed by a hidden twitch of his hefty sack. He shifted his legs open as much as he could, trying to give his nuts some breathing room inside of his suddenly-small pants.

Meanwhile, Peter was going at it the best he could. While he hated that he couldn't get the entire length in fully - or rather, the girth - he tried to make sure and use everything he had learned during his escapades. Saliva coated the skin on the old man's fuck stick, some of it even leaking out of his mouth as Peter bobbed his head back and forth.

Henry's hands slowly found their way into his son's hair. It was an involuntary reaction - one that made him feel even worse about the whole ordeal. But he felt the need to connect with his son... his cocksucking son. He tried pushing the head in his crotch away.

"Pete... Pete... I ain't gonna last. Yar old man's gonna blow soon. Let go." Henry whispered with a shuddering exhale.

Peter's response was not verbal, yet somehow louder than any words could be. His free hand gripped at dad's thighs, pulling himself forward ever more, taking as much as he could. He felt a gag come up, and suppressed it deftly. Picking up his pace, the wet squelches echoed through his room.

"Pete! Let go or I'm gonna-" Henry warned, but it was too late.

With what sounded like a pained groan, his legs pressed together - Peter's head trapped in his warm crotch - and his balls finally emptied. For the first time in over a decade, he felt fully aroused, blowing his entire load. It took a long time until all the creamy ropes landed in Peter's willing mouth, the young man greedily swallowing up all of his father's swimmers.

They remained locked in the same position for a good minute until Henry's nutsack twitched and pulsed on an empty tank. Every ounce was pushed out in that moment and he felt truly... satisfied. In a way that his hand had never fulfilled him. That no one had ever fulfilled him... not even his late wife.

As the last movements abated, Peter pulled away with one final gulp, opening his mouth to catch his breath properly, a few pubic hairs stuck to his face from the sweat they had worked up. His hand was still moving, chasing his own release with a newfound vigor after feeling his dad's nut slide down into his stomach.

But Henry's satisfaction soon turned to horror as the full weight of what he had done settled in. He could only look at Peter - listen to his soft moans and whimpers as he pleasured himself. This was never about getting over anything. This was never going to help. Peter had known that very well... and Henry had too. As much as he hated to admit it, he had known damn well this would not help the situation. And yet he still went along with it anyway. He had used his son's affections for his own gain. Like a sick and twisted pervert, he took advantage of his most treasured person's feelings for him. This and other rueful thoughts sprouted in his mind like weeds, growing rampantly. He had to turn away. He couldn't even look at Peter after what they had done - after what he had willingly agreed to.

"I... I..." Henry faced his son again as he searched for something - anything to say.

His words were cut short by Peter's own climax. His boy hadn't even bothered pulling his dick out. Didn't need to. A wet stain appeared on the front of his pants and started expanding rapidly. But his expression was somehow even more gleeful than before. Enraptured and reverent as his eyes were locked onto Henry's face. Fuck, this was really serious, wasn't it? Henry was in way over his head. The old man could only look on and witness as his own son removed his hand from his pants, sticky with a glistening white substance. The droplets started trailing down his fingers as he simply brought it to his mouth and licked it off. That image alone was enough to make Henry's crotch tingle again. He felt his cock jerk a bit, waking up for round two.

No! Enough! Too much! He stood up rapidly, hoisting his pants up and closing his fly. He rushed out of the room.

"G'night, Pete." he said over his shoulder as he ran over to his bedroom.

The door shut behind him with a similar slam as Peter's had before. He was alone. All alone except for his thoughts. And many a picture of Caroline gazing upon him. Lovingly. Fucking hell, he couldn't look at even one of them. Not after what he had done to her son - their son. Not after today. What had he been thinking? How could he have let this happen? But it was too late. He had crossed a line from which there was no retreat. No respite.

He collapsed onto his bed and buried his face into his pillow. He didn't bother changing as he simply crawled under the covers in his current attire. Hopefully Peter would be alright. Hopefully he'd forgive him. Hopefully they'd get over this together one day... But Henry knew that would not happen any time soon. Especially since... since he liked what had happened. He had enjoyed the act fully and desired more. Craved more of Peter's touch - of his expertise.

Back in his days, a suck or, dare-he-say, a little buttfuck were considered the peak of sodomy - the ultimate depravity one could indulge in. But Peter had opened his eyes to skills that he had no idea existed. With his tongue alone that is. Henry wasn't supposed to explore sex at this old an age... He was supposed to be all settled down and happy in the monotony and routine of life. Not fucking his son.

With what sounded suspiciously like a sob, he pressed his head further into the pillow. This evening, he had tasted a forbidden fruit so sweet, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. Everything in his body was telling him to continue. He longed to return to Peter's room and finish what they had started - explore everything there was to experience. His morals? The unflinching attitude he had entered the discussion with? Gone. Replaced by a new, alien desire. It all gave away so easily... he hadn't even noticed when he had become lost in the feeling - craved more. And that scared him more than anything else.

Chapter Text

With a groan, Peter got up before his eyes even managed to blink away all the sleep. He got his bearings, his body somewhat exhausted, yet oddly relaxed at the same time. Immediately, his head turned to the side and checked if dad was still in bed. He was. And awake too.

"G'mornin', sonny." Henry said with a sleep-laced voice.

"Hey, pops." Peter replied, yawning.

"Ya sleep well?"

"I think so? I can barely remember gettin' to bed, to be honest with ya." Peter scratched his head.

"Oh, I remember well enough for the both of us, I reckon." Henry chuckled, patting Peter's bottom a bit.

Oh. That's right. Now Peter could remember. A faint smile appeared on his face as he reminisced on the day before. After so long, his backdoor finally had seen use again. He had missed it so much.

"Yea? Then how 'bout ya remind me a bit?" Peter raised an eyebrow, moving swiftly to straddle his dad's lap.

"Whoa there, slow down! Yer old man's not properly awake yet!" Henry laughed as he gripped Peter's hips, forcing him to a standstill.

"Awww... not even a little bit?" Peter pronounced his bottom lip as he gave his best puppy eyes.

"Nope! This ain't gonna work on me now, son. I fear my tank's still empty from the days before. I'm sure we can do it sometime later though. If yer still up for it then, that is."

"Fine. But yer lettin' me cook ya breakfast for this." Peter declared as he dismounted his dad's groin.

"I reckon it's a bit too late for breakfast. We've been lazin' around in bed for a long while there, Pete." Henry looked out of the window.

Peter's gaze followed his dad's. The sun was indeed already on its way down. A part of him was happy that they managed to get some quality sleep, but another part was rather frustrated at the precious free time spent in bed, unconscious.

"Guess I'll make lunch then. Ya can feel free to stay in bed. I'll call ya when food's ready." Peter swung his legs out of bed.

He stood up onto his feet; they touched the chilly floor below. Without waiting for a response, he already started walking for the bathroom, picking up a few clothes from the wardrobe on the way. A few times he looked behind himself, only to find Henry appreciatively watching him. A soft, warm smile playing on his lips. So gorgeous.

If he didn't hurry, that look would soon starve to death, though. So he mentally kicked himself in the ass and got moving. A quick wash and he was ready for the kitchen. As he wanted to spend as much time with his dad as possible that day, he decided for some simpler dishes. Fried rice and an omelet. Not the most filling, but sufficient.

While he was getting the food ready, two strong hands crossed over his chest as thick arms snaked their way through the gap between his own arms and body. It felt like Deja Vu.

"Pops! Don't scare a man like that!" Peter protested jokingly.

"Hey, I just wanted my boy to have some moral support. Everythin' okay, hun? Need help with anythin'?"

"Nah. And besides, I thought ya'd be in bed! I said I'd call ya." Peter grumbled a bit, but continued focusing on the food.

"Yea, yea, I know, I know. But I can't relax properly knowin' my son is bustin' his arse tryin' to make me lunch." Henry shrugged as he disentangled himself from Peter.

The younger man gathered up a pair of plates and slowly started piling the cooking up onto them.

"I ain't bustin' nothin'. Ya give me too much credit, pops. But even if I were, if it's for ya, it's all worth it.' Peter said as he brought the food over to the table.

Henry was already sitting on his designated chair, shooting a soft look his son's way. He shifted a bit - sitting up straight.

"I know ya think it's worth it to put me first. But I wouldn't want that. I need my son to be big and strong and ready to face the world." Henry chuckled.

"I already am all of those! And more!" Peter puffed out his chest with mock pride.

"But not too strong to not get help from his pops. After all, what else am I for?"

Peter's face softened. He walked over to dad's chair and put his arms around Henry's neck, pressing a chaste kiss against father's hair.

"I'll never be too old for my pops. Whether for gettin' help or for lovin'." the younger man said as he nuzzled into the black strands.

"Yup, both of those are my job. Even if ya forget the first part a bit too often." Henry chuckled.

"And ya forget both! Ain't much better on that front, are ya pops?"

"Hey, I'm the pa, not the sonny."

"True. If I were yar pa, ya would be spoiled rotten." Peter said.

"Nah, I think ya'd be a great pa, Pete. One day, maybe." Henry shot him a sad smile.

"Maybe..." Peter dismissed the idea with a shrug.

They stood there for a bit, Peter above his dad, in an embrace. Henry broke the silence.

"Go eat, son. Ya need to be strong for the day." Henry said with a tap to Peter's hand.

Peter obeyed almost instantly, getting the food for himself and plopping his generous behind on the chair right across his father.

"Ya want to do anythin' today, pops?" Peter asked before he took his first bite.

"Like what?"

"Like a walk, maybe? Or a movie? I know ya like those old-fashioned ones." Peter smiled, 

"A walk sounds nice. Never been too keen on passin' on those, ya know me. I take it ya'll be goin' too?"

"Well, yea. Ya expect me to not make sure yer all well? It's good to have a mate with ya."

"Oh, we can mate, aight." Peter smiled.

"Yea yea, get yar head outta the gutter, aight?" Henry shook his head.

"Only if ya get yar head in my gutter instead." Peter chuckled.

"That's it. Go eat yar food, would ya? Or we ain't ever gonna leave the house." Henry sighed.

"I hear ya, I hear ya. The sooner we get out, the sooner we can come back and go back the bed, right? Not for sleepin' 'f course." Peter blew his dad a kiss and started digging in properly.

Henry didn't deign this statement with an answer of his own, opting instead to eat in a pleasant silence, savoring his son's cooking. But silence never lasted long in their household.

"Do ya like it?" Peter asked after finishing half his plate.

"Ya have to ask that? Don'tcha see that there ain't anythin' left on the plate, boy? Yar cookin' is great as usual, don't worry." Henry said, scraping together the last bits of food left on the plate.

"I put in a bit too much pepper this time. I need to watch myself with the spices." Peter shrugged.

"Nah, yer good. Can't taste anythin' off 'bout it."

"Thanks." Peter smiled.

The pace at which he ate quickened as he tried to match his dad. Soon enough, the silverware clattered on the empty plate as he moved to take both his and his dad's dishes, dumping them into the sink for now.

"Aight, wanna go then?" the younger one said with a short burp as he started to move to the front door.

"Yup, right behind ya." Henry responded with a belch of his own.

They laughed a bit at their own apparent lack of manners before reaching the shoe rack and starting to get ready for the great outdoors.

---

The autumn leaves crunched under their boots as the two hulking men walked through the forest. Many paths which they had taken were not mapped anywhere but in their minds, recorded from the many times they had explored every nook and cranny of these woods. The air was chilly as their body hair bristled - goosebumps forming on their skin, causing them to shiver excitedly.

Their breaths formed little clouds of barely visible steam. And those clouds were many. They talked and talked, like they used to every day, about things both important and trivial. They laughed, they shouted, they sighed. It was as if all the world's burdens disappeared when they were around each other. Peter looked in his dad's direction, only to be met with an identical gaze his way. Their brown eyes, both pairs like molten honey in the sun, reflected each other. The corners of Henry's mouth crinkled as he put his arm around Peter, pulling him into a side-hug as they walked.

Peter was not one to object when it came to being close to dad. Quite the opposite. He pressed himself into dad's side as they walked literally joined at the hips. Their conversation stilled, yet the quiet, peaceful atmosphere remained. Without a single goal, they simply wandered between the warm colors of autumnal nature, breathing in the cold air of their surroundings.

This idyllic mood was broken up as Henry spoke up again.

"Hold on a sec, I gotta take a leak." he declared as he detached himself from his son.

"Way to ruin the rizz, pops." Peter rolled his eyes, yet smiled.

"The what?" Henry shot him a confused glance.

"The rizz! Y'know... the charm? The charisma" Peter gesticulated with his hands in the air wildly.

"I... Is that one of 'em words ya young'uns have these days?" Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Yea. But don'tcha worry. I'll teach ya all 'bout 'em someday." Peter laughed.

"I'm not sure I want to know 'em."

With that, Henry turned around properly and walked to a nearby tree, looking around himself a few times just to check if the coast was clear. Then, with a decisive tug, he pulled his pants down, letting them pool around his ankles alongside his underwear. Peter had never really understood why dad insisted on pulling them down completely for just a piss, but there would be things that he'd simply never understand about his father. But oh boy if he wasn't thankful for the view.

Just as Henry positioned himself to do the deed, his ass flexed a bit as the two hairy mounds tensed together, before relaxing ever so slightly. It was an enticing sight, and one that Peter never could pass up on. But he felt a particularly mischievous mood creep up on him that day.

Paying heed to not make too much of a sound, he unzipped the front of his pants, freeing his own, semi-erect length from the confines of his clothes. Slowly shuffling forward, he got as close as he could without being noticed. Henry was whistling an off-tune melody as he marked the tree, oblivious to his son.

Without any warning, Peter pressed himself to his dad's body, pushing his dick between the thighs so lasciviously presented to him. With one swift motion his member was pressed in-between the hairy globes of flesh, brushing along the perineum, poking out ever so slightly from the thick walls.

"What are ya doin'!?" Henry shouted as he jumped from shock.

"Relax, pops. Ya ain't the only one who needs to take a leak." Peter laughed as he grabbed his dad by the shoulders.

With a groan of relief, he too released himself - hitting the same tree.

"Are ya outta yar mind? We're out in the open! What if someone sees us?" Henry whispered harshly.

"Like who? Nobody comes 'round these parts, so why worry? Plus, do ya think they'd ask two grown arse mountains of men like us what we're doin'? I don't think so. We could be fuckin' out in the open like this everyday and no one would be any the wiser." Peter chuckled as he nipped at his dad's neck.

"Ya don't know that! And stop cussin' like a sailor." Henry shook his head.

"C'mon now, pops. Lighten up a bit. I'll keep ya safe." Peter nearly purred into his dad's ear.

"Honestly, I don't understand what's goin' on in that smart head of yars sometimes." Henry sighed.

"Well, it's usually filled with ya. Sometimes literally." Peter laughed and bit a bit harder.

Henry yelped once more and pushed at the would-be vampire away from his neck. Their streams had long since petered out.

"Pete. This ain't funny anymore. Yer gonna get me bricked up. I don't wanna walk 'round with a stiff prick." Henry exhaled.

"Then don't. I'll help ya with it, how 'bout it?" Peter laughed as he let his hands snake up to Henry's chest.

"Pete... Pete, we're in the middle of the woods..." Henry half-moaned out.

"Yea, I know. Like we've been many times before when we did this, no? C'mon, pops, I gotcha. Ya ain't got anythin' to worry 'bout." Peter said as he pinched his dad's nipples a bit.

"Pete..." the rest of the sentence got caught in Henry's throat.

"How 'bout it, pops? Just tell me the way ya want it. Hm?" Peter's voice dropped to a near plea.

"Pete... Some days ya really push me to my limits, ya know that?" Henry grumbled.

"Yea, I know. But ya still love me."

Henry didn't even respond to that, simply grimaced as Peter's hands pinched his chest a bit too hard. But the hardened pole attached to his groin didn't lie. After a while, his resistance crumbled as he gave into his desires. He removed Peter's rather greedy fingers from his nipples and afterwards braced himself on the tree, bending forward slightly. His ass stuck out, cheeks slightly parting.

While Peter did incite this, he himself hadn't expected such a sight. Whenever he forgot about his dad's charms, his old man made sure to remind him. The little wrinkles of the pucker presented to him - delicious. Despite being left alone for weeks, it was already asking for attention.

"C'mon, son. The quicker we have it over with, the less chance someone finds us." Henry whispered, the tips of his ears reddening.

That seemed to break Peter out of his temporary stupor.

"Yea... are ya clean?" he asked as he spat into his hand.

Henry's cheeks reddened for a change as he nodded his head ever so slightly. Peter smiled at that, rubbing the spittle into his penis, coating it until it glistened in the outdoor light.

"It might be a bit difficult, m'kay? Relax for me, pops, just like ya always do. I promise I ain't gonna make it hurt." Peter whispered as he gave the two jiggling cheeks in front of him a few gentle slaps.

"Mhm." Henry mumbled.

With another glob of saliva, Peter coated his fingers and then proceeded to slowly insert them into his father. Two digits easily passed the barrier - even two weeks of inactivity didn't make it forget the feeling of being stretched. Henry hissed slightly as his ring of muscle yielded to the pressure.

"There there. I'll make sure ya'll be fine." Peter cooed.

The taut anus muscles quickly got used to the sensation, allowing Peter to add another digit in. Three fingers was a tight fit, especially when it came to the width of Peter's extremities, but soon enough, even they managed to move back and forth without too big of a difficulty.

Peter's cock was already glistening with precum, dribbling onto the forest ground. Henry wasn't in a much better state, his legs trembling ever so slightly as a similar puddle gathered beneath him, seeping into the soil.

"Would ya get on with it!?" Henry rasped out as his hips started pushing back.

A singular chuckle escaped Peter's throat as he removed his fingers, causing his dad to groan out and the enticing opening wink at him, desiring to be filled again.

"Don'tcha worry, here I go." Peter said as he positioned himself.

With little resistance, his member plunged into the velvety guts of Henry's, immediately enveloped by a warm, pulsating embrace. Peter moaned, yet Henry moaned louder as his nails dug into the bark he was holding onto.

"Pops... pops, I forgot how good ya feel." Peter gasped out as he nearly doubled over.

"Ya tell me, son... I remembered how good ya feel yesterday." Henry responded in kind.

A few thrusts was all it took for Peter to go fully red in the face, sweat beading on his forehead. No matter how many times they had done this, it still felt way too good - way too special. His hips couldn't help but slam forward at every opportunity, chasing not only the pleasure, but also the strong grip of the insides he was fucking into. Loud, wet slaps echoed through the space they were in, getting lost in the trees alongside their moans.

"Pops... I ain't gonna last long." Peter managed to struggle out of himself.

"Don't worry. I know. Pa knows. Just let it out. Let it all out for papa." Henry drawled.

Oh, that fox. He knew exactly what talk like this did to Peter. And as expected, the pace of the younger man's thrusts intensified. Jackhammering away, Peter's nails dug into his dad's flesh, leaving a few reddish marks on the hairy skin. Then, with little ceremony, his movements stilled as he grabbed the very same tree as his dad.

With quick, visible pulses, his balls emptied out as they were pressed closely to his body. His shaft pumped out rope after rope of hot jizz right into his dad's ass, so much so that some of it immediately started dripping out onto the fallen leaves.

"Good boy. Ya make yar pops really proud, sonny." Henry cooed with a shaky voice.

Peter groaned out at the teasing. Dad knew exactly how to push his buttons. But he wouldn't let himself be so easily beaten. He didn't pull out, but instead pulled his dad back. With a surprised gasp his father started falling into him as Peter used his own body to cushion both of their falls as he sat on the ground.

"Whoa there! Ya okay, son?" Henry asked, slightly concerned, but his voice was still laced with pleasure.

But his son was a bit too preoccupied with pleasuring his beloved daddy. Peter's hands slowly caressed their way all over Henry's body, squeezing and rubbing at every erogenous place imaginable. A pinch of the nipple here, then a light slap on the belly - all of these movements caused Henry's voice to ring out so sweetly.

Gently, he started rocking his softening cock inside of his dad, churning his own load. And it seemed like his plan worked as Henry's hand didn't resist for too long before diving into the bush on his crotch, rubbing feverishly at the pulsating rod so achingly poking out.

His mouth was left open as his hand moved up and down so fast, his palm went red. But judging by the slurred throes occasionally rumbling from his throat, he was definitely not complaining.

"Yea... Yea... C'mon, give it to yar pops! Yar pops really needed this, yea. Oh... Oh! Pete! Pete, it's comin'! Don't ya dare stop no- OH!" Henry rambled out of himself.

As the last exclamation left his mouth, he clenched his legs together and bounced his hips a few times on his son's lap as he felt his release shoot out straight onto the ground in front of him. Rope after rope of thick, manly cum painted the ground as his balls twitched in sync with the waves of pleasure washing over him. Peter simply held onto Henry, watching his dad lose himself in the moment.

"That's it, pops..." Peter encouraged, letting more of dad's weight fall onto him.

Henry seemed like he wanted to reply, but his words came out all scrambled and incoherent. Instead, his body spoke for him, squeezing the soft flesh left inside his guts, trying to milk it dry even if it was already spent. His hips twitched despite nothing more coming out of his low-hanging sack. After a few seconds, all the tension left his shoulder as he slumped backwards, causing Peter to lean back even more.

Not much happened for a good while, as the two heavyset men caught their breath and simply basked in each other's presence. The peaceful natural ambiance helped calm them down faster, as they turned their heads to face each other. Their looks softened and lips parted slightly as they dove in and kissed. Tongues met somewhere in the middle, their hands scratching at each other's skin and clothes.

Their make out session was rather uneventful and monotone, but they would have had it no other way. After a string of saliva was all that was left of their union, they reluctantly started getting their shit together.

Well, all that had to be done was really pull up their clothes properly. Peter's cum had mostly completely seeped out of his dad's hole, while Henry's spunk had almost fully absorbed into the soil.

They stood up - for the most part passable looking. Sure, the disheveled hair was a bit of a tell, but they were still a bit too out of it to care. The place of their affair was left as is as they walked away.

Both of them were silent afterwards, no words really needed, yet while Peter's face was adorned with a blissful smile, Henry's had long since fallen into a rather pensive state.

"Ya know, Pete, I've been thinkin'..." Henry broke the silence first.

"'Bout how awesome today was? Yea... same... Thanks, pops. I mean it. Not every pa would let their sonny stretch their hole out." Peter smiled cheekily, yet no falsehoods spilled from his lips.

"I... yea, I guess..." Henry responded, visibly deflating.

Peter wasn't really sure what was going on with his old man, but it was obviously getting the poor lad. It pained him to see dad like this, but he didn't really want to open a can of worms right here in the open. It could wait until they got home.

To both of their surprise, though, their trip home would be slightly delayed. Two giant arms curled around both of their necks as each of their heads pressed against a hardened biceps. Panic set over them both, before their assailant had spoken.

"Henry. Peter. It is good to see you both." a heavily accented voice spoke, its owner casting a shadow over Peter.

A gleeful smile appeared on the son's face as he turned around and nearly tackled the newcomer.

"Uncle Ivan!" he exclaimed, jumping into the Ukrainian's arms.

The bulky blonde huffed a bit and tumbled as a giant man's weight landed on him, but after letting go of Henry, he easily regained his balance with Peter held securely.

"Hello, Peter. Welcome back home." Ivan rasped out quietly.

Peter's legs were slung around Ivan's waist as his head was tucked straight under the horseshoe mustache he had always adored.

"Yer a sneaky one as always, ya old dog." Henry bellowed as he punched his friend gently into the shoulder.

Ivan smiled gently at Henry, before his eyes dropped down on the overgrown koala attached to his body. With careful motions, he slowly pushed his quasi-nephew away a bit, signaling it was time to get onto the ground again. Peter obliged, but remained attached to his chest. It smelled so nice. Sure, his dad smelt better, but Ivan's scent was unique in its own way. The unfiltered aroma of pine, mixed with an honest man's sweat. It felt like home in its own way.

"Did you get your present? Do you like it?" Ivan asked.

"Yea! It's amazin'! Thank ya so much, unc!" Peter giggled.

Henry's eyes crinkled a bit as he saw the exchange happen in front of him. His teeth revealed themselves in a thin line as he grinned ever-so-subtly.

"Ya should've seen his face when he saw it for the first time! Lit up like a whole damn Christmas tree." Henry laughed.

The smile on Ivan's face widened at that - his hand coming up to ruffle Peter's hair.

"I am glad you liked it. I will make you more of those if you want, yes?"

"Oh, that's mighty kind of ya, unc, but that ain't necessary. Ya always try to give me somethin' or make me somethin'. Ya've done enough." Peter said as he finally took a step back from the hulking blonde.

"No. Your father helps me a lot, as you know, yes? He brings me food and materials. I often do not have the money to pay him back. So this is the least I can do for you two." Ivan shook his head.

"Aww, c'mon now, unc! Ya know pops hates it when ya speak like that. And so do I! Pops lends a hand 'cause yer worth it! We ain't no damn loan sharks." Peter huffed.

"Yea, what Pete said. I've told ya time and time again - I ain't interested in no repayment." Henry puffed out his chest a bit.

"I know." Ivan flashed him a smile, yet it did not reach his eyes.

"Then there ain't no problem!" Peter cut him off before he could say anything more.

Ivan's smile reappeared, still as unconvincing. Then, his lips straightened out into their typical position, a stone mask as per usual. His spine did a similar movement as it popped a few times.

"Well, I see I am not convincing you two otherwise, yes? But that is okay. I have to go now anyways. I am sorry. There is always something to do around my home." Ivan concluded as he pulled them both into a hug, this time around individually.

"Yup. Know that feelin', don'tcha worry." Henry said as their embrace ended.

"Feel free to come over for a visit, no? I am always happy to see you two. Together or alone!" he said, but didn't wait for a response.

With large steps his frame got smaller and smaller, until it disappeared between the autumnal landscape. The remaining father and son pair remained standing, as they watched him walk away. Both of them smiling, yet there was an undeniable air of melancholy left behind.

"C'mon, Pete. Let's head home." Henry said, pressing a heavy palm onto Peter's shoulder.

A nod was the only response as they too walked, but in the opposite direction.

They remained silent for the remainder of the way back, simply using each other's presence not only for joy, but also comfort.

---

The two men got back to their home sooner than they realized. Henry was a bit sad, wanting to have stayed in nature's embrace for a while longer, yet there was nothing to be done. This time around, there was no one waiting to ambush them at the front door, leaving an easy way in.

Indoors, the mixture of their smells awaited them - comfortable and homely. At least it was supposed to be. Yet today, it wasn't. Mainly because the escapade in the woods had made Henry think. A lot. About what the fuck he was actually doing - or rather had been doing for years now.

He was an old man - nearly ready for retirement - fucking someone eons younger than him. And his own son to boot! With every day, the internal scream got louder and louder - demanding he end this absolute farce of a 'relationship'.

Pete was able to press every one of his buttons, knew every trick in the book to make him yield to the most devious of advances. And Henry let him. His resistance was a joke. Hell, what was worse, he participated in the infatuated teasing. He craved it just like he craved his boy's warmth - whether from a gentle embrace or passionate union.

Yet the problem was - he wouldn't be able to keep up. He had already been lagging behind. If Peter hadn't given him ample time to recover today, he most likely wouldn't have been able to stand up. His legs had been numb, his mind a complete foggy mess. But worst off was his respiration - he had trouble properly breathing after they finished an escapade. Like no matter how much he wanted to inhale, it was never enough - his lungs forcing him to let air out before he could get them to expand properly.

Somehow, he had managed to force himself and go back to normal before Peter could realize, but he'd be lying if he said he could do this all the time. Eventually, he'd hit a limit and he'd simply fall behind - if not worse. That isn't something Peter deserved to have to deal with.

Such energy, so much lust and drive. Peter was a wonderful lover, as Henry had had years to find out. As older as Henry was, Peter was leaps ahead of him when it came to sex. Always had been, really, ever since that first 'accident' of theirs. Which is why Henry could not possibly restrain his son's desires. It was clear how much Peter loved to have sex - whenever, wherever, however, he was down. And it would be a waste to limit all of that just because Henry was incapable of appreciating it anymore. So he'd have to do whatever possible to make Peter see the light. Even if he, regrettably, had to do things he was not comfortable with to do so.

"Pops, ya good?" Peter said, already halfway done with taking off his clothes.

"Yea. I'll go shower after ya, so take yar time." Henry said, torn from his rumination.

"Aww, ya ain't comin' with? I was hopin' for a round 2." Peter jutted out his lower lip pleadingly.

This was the exact energy he was afraid of. The unrelenting energy of youth. Sure, Peter was nearly thirty, but that was still a significant different compared to Henry.

"Yea, I'll do some housework while yer in. Just don't feel up for it, sorry." Henry smiled apologetically.

"Well, that's aight. I'll help ya out after, m'kay? Leave some work for me." Peter winked.

Henry's son bent over to remove his pants and then his underwear, fully showcasing the inviting mounds of flesh, as well as his hefty bulge - both rod and sack aired out in their full naked, hairy glory. Fuck, doing the right thing would be so much harder than the old man hoped for.

He knew he had to tear his eyes away, because seeing Peter ascend the stairs would most likely make his entire resolve crumble. Fuck, he just knew how it'd dangle, while his son's ass jiggled with each step... No! This was exactly what he wanted to avoid!

Praying to somehow suppress all of his carnal desires, he retreated to the kitchen hastily, finding a random chore to keep himself busy with. Yet the uneasiness never left. How could it when the actual crux of the problem was only about to happen? But it would arrive sooner rather than later.

The water from upstairs got turned off. Quite quick for Peter's showers. Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs, which caused Henry to turn around and face the entrance to the room he was waiting in. Peter did indeed appear - hastily dried and still very much naked. Fuck.

"Ya can go now, pops. I'll handle the rest!" Peter bellowed, not even knowing what there was left to do.

"Uh... yea... 'bout that... Let's have a chat, m'kay, son?" Herny said, looking at a stain on the wall.

"Sure. What's up?" Peter raised an eyebrow as he sat down.

"Well, ya see... Listen, have ya thought 'bout marriage?" Henry started, sitting down as well.

"Oh? Oh! Well, uh, y'know... I didn't expect ya to be the first one to pop the question. But if ya want to, we can pretend, sure, honeybuns. Or, uh, hubby." Peter beamed.

"Huh? What?" Henry looked all confused.

"What's wrong? Ain't that what ya wanted? Y'know... pretend we're married and all that?" Peter visibly deflated.

"No - that's not at all what I want here. I was thinkin' of ya gettin' married for real." Henry clarified, but seemingly to no avail.

"So like... we'd run away? Bold, and I'm not sure I like leavin' this town behind. But if ya want to, I'll run away with ya to marry somewhere else!" 

"No, no... Pete... I mean like settlin' down. A woman and ya. Or a man, if ya insist." Henry said solemnly.

"Oh... nah. If yer jealous or somethin', ya don't have to be. There ain't no secret fiance I'm keepin' from ya!" Peter chuckled.

"Thanks... but I mean... what if ya found someone? Ya know, to settle down with? Who isn't me, I mean."

"Huh... why would I do that?" Peter looked at him incredulously.

Fuck. Henry couldn't tell him the truth. If he knew of Henry's concerns, he'd just double down. That's the kind of person Peter was... so Henry would have to play dumb for a while or two. As much as he hated to... Yet he would not lie. He refused to. Not to Peter. Never to Peter.

"I just think it'd be good for ya to have a backup plan. Ya know, just in case." Henry shrugged.

"Nah. This is ya tryin' somethin' again. And I ain't buyin' it. Ya've asked me similar questions before and yer doin' it again!" Peter grumbled.

"Well, yea, in case ya've changed yer mind!" Henry protested.

"Nah, don't come at me with that. Ya know exactly what my answer will be."

"Okay, but how 'bout marryin' the Mary broad? Ain't she nice? Ya two get alon' well, no?"

"Wha- Mary? Are ya outta yar mind? My prick shrivels at even imaginin' seein' her naked. How could I possibly marry her? Like... she's a good chum, but nothin' more. No romance, no lust. Unlike for ya, honeybuns." Peter said with steadfast conviction.

"Ya really won't budge? No matter what?" Henry added in quietly.

"No matter what, yea. Now, if ya'll excuse me - I have to go and get dressed." Peter stood up just as rapidly as he had come in.

Henry was left alone in the kitchen, hearing footsteps ascend and disappear on the upper floor. His head fell into his hands as he exhaled deeply.

That boy could be so incredibly stubborn.