Father Figure

by Kichuku Neko, TogaQ

  “You can’t?” I asked, running my hand along his chest. “Or you won’t?”

  I spread his knees open and moved up between them. The wild, panicked look came back onto his face again.

  “Just stop it!” he shouted, pulling at the collar so hard he was strangling himself. “You insane bastard! Don’t touch me!”

  His bouts of terror rose and receded in unpredictable cycles. Even with the punishment he’d endured only hours earlier, he still was defiant.

  “Father — “

  “Don’t call me that!” he shouted. “You’ve done nothing but torture me!”

  I clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him in that instant. “You don’t want to say anymore,” I suggested, pressing harder until his eyes grew larger with pain. “I really don’t like it when you try my patience, Father.”

  With my free hand, I unbuttoned his shirt. He tried to shake his head, his fingers gouging mine. I ignored him, although he was making bloody scratches on the back of my hands and arms.

  I licked a line from his belly up to his chest and from there to his chin. I took my hand off his mouth and he panted, taking in deep breaths.

  “You’re going to be good?” I asked him.

  He pursed his lips closed and turned away. His answer.

  “I think it’s time we got to know each other a little better,” I said, taking his wrists in one hand and pinning them overhead. “The atmosphere here’s turning rather somber.”

  ...... _

  He tried to pull his hands out of mine, but I had a firm grip and leverage. More blood stained the fresh bandage and a sweet, coppery scent wafted through the air.

  “Do you want me to tie you down, too?” I asked him.

  His eyes were wet again, rimmed with red as he called me a bastard.

  “Doing this to me just makes me hate you!” he said, as the first tears left his eyes and rolled down, disappearing into his hair. “You want me to love you? Then don’t do this!”

  I stared down at him, only aware of the darkening sensation blossoming inside me. His words weren’t making sense; I only knew he hated me and that he couldn’t understand what I was doing. At that point, I also came to the full realization that he would never understand it.

  I got up and off the bed to fetch his tie that I had pulled off the night before. He was screaming incoherently as I took his wrists again and tied them to the center slat of the headboard.

  “If you struggle anymore, you might lose that finger,” I told him as I undid my pants. “I won’t try to save it.”

  He calmed down, but barely. He squeezed his eyes shut when I stepped out of my pants. I was already half-hard; impatient to be inside him.

  “Perhaps you will never comprehend a fraction of the loneliness I feel,” I said, as I shrugged off my shirt and left it on top of my pants. I climbed onto the bed and over him. He wasn’t hard nor did I expect him to be. It felt good anyway, when I palmed his cock against mine — rubbing them together in a slow tempo. “And it doesn’t matter if you do. I’m a selfish shit, to want you and only you. Being with you in some way, in any way—whether you want me or not—makes the pain of the loneliness bearable.”

  I lay down on top of him without resting my entire weight on him. I held his chin by my thumb and index finger and kissed his mouth. He didn’t reciprocate, but neither did he try to pull away. He simply looked sad; the fury evidenced just moments earlier, gone.

  “That pain...no words can describe it. I didn’t know I was capable of it, until I knew you existed. I am beyond terrified of losing you now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way...,” he said. “It can’t be this way.”

  I inhaled deeply and shook my head. “This is the only way,” I said, after exhaling slowly, “if I let you out of here you’ll always belong to someone else and I’ll have to get rid of all those people...all the people you’ll want to make a new life with or go back to....”

  I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the sensation of tears rolling down my face and saw two drops fall onto his cheek.

  “If I have to kill you to make you my father...the father that will never abandon me....” I said. I couldn’t finish the sentence — I choked on the sob that had risen in my throat.

  “I would not have abandoned you if I’d known — ”

  I slapped him, cutting off his sentence. He looked stunned by my sudden rage. The place I had struck him with my open palm started to redden.

  “Don’t lie to me!” I said angrily. “Don’t tell me what you would have done when it doesn’t matter now!”

  I raised my hand, intending to hit him again and he braced himself, but I didn’t. Instead, I lowered it and wiped my eyes. “Sorry,” I said, another apology that came automatically but meant nothing. “I didn’t mean to lose my cool.”

  “Hurting me this way will make you feel whole?” He was calm when he said it.

  I ran my thumb along his lower lip and smiled. “I’ll try not to hurt you,” I said. I didn’t want to have a conversation with him anymore. “Although I know it’ll be painful.”

  I shifted myself down until I was eye-level with his cock. I took him into my mouth again, sucking and swallowing the length. He writhed, trying to dislodge himself.

  “Stop it...,” he hissed. I ignored him, savoring the masculine taste and scent of him. I sucked, but the wet length didn’t grow hard.

  “It’ll be easier on you if you get into it,” I said and wet an index finger.

  “I don’t want — “His sentence cut off, replaced with a cry when I pressed my damp fingertip against his asshole. The pucker contracted wildly when the first joint of my finger slipped in, trying to push it back out. With a stronger push, the second joint went in — the mouth of his entrance was tight. He gasped, then screamed for me to take my finger out.

  “If I don’t loosen you up, my cock will split you open,” I said. Another push and my entire finger was inside him. His entire body went rigid. “Calm down.”

  He didn’t. His body clamped down so hard that it was difficult to even move my finger. “Force yourself to relax,” I told him. “Or my finger alone will cut you.”

  “Take it out!”

  I laughed. “You’re so tight that I can’t even move my finger.”

  Rivulets of tears began flowing from his eyes, most likely a mixture of pain and humiliation. I didn’t feel bad, although I thought I should, probably because of the way he’d angered me earlier.

  “You deserve this,” I wanted to tell him, but held back, seeing the fright in him already. He would probably start struggling again if I spoke anything but soothing encouragements to him.

  “You’ll be fine,” I assured him, slowly pulling my finger out mid-way and pushing it back in. “Your body’s just not used to this sensation...but it will be soon.”

  I pulled my finger out completely and spread the tight bud with my thumbs. The pale little hole tried to close as I pulled it apart. I spat on it — my saliva coating the rim and dripping inwards.

  “This would have been so much easier if you were a woman, huh?” I said with a snicker. I drilled back into him with my thicker, longer middle finger. It was only a slight change, but his body felt it. He screamed and tightened up again.

  “Please...,” he begged, the first time he had used that word. The pain must be quite alarming. “Please...take it out....”

  “Quiet down,” I told him, pulling my finger out only to add in the index finger. “You are doing just fine....”

  I pushed them in up to my knuckles. The warmth and tightness inside him were exquisite — the way the columns of his anal muscles contracted around my fingers. I grew hard, almost feeling that same sensation wrapped around my own cock. I wanted to shove into him.

  “Please... I’ll suck you... I’ll do anything... please stop... ” he said, barely choking down the whimpers that continued to rise from his throat. His offer made me stop and pull my finger out.

  “You mean it?” I
asked him. He nodded, his face wet with tears and sweat.

  I sat him up, his back against the headboard. He was panting, trying to keep himself calm as I knelt over him — my knees pinned against either side of his hips. My cock was inches from his mouth — hard, jutting forward. The tip was damp with pre-cum.

  “I hope I don’t have to remind you what would happen if you try to bite me,” I said softly. I raked the locks of his hair from his face so I could look at him.

  “I...don’t know...,” he started to say, his lower lip trembling, as if he were afraid to say the rest.

  I gave him a smile. “I know you don’t know how,” I said, lowering my voice in a gentle tone. “I’ll teach you. But you should know how you would like to be pleasured in this way, right?”

  A blush colored his cheeks.

  “Just lick the tip for now,” I told him, pressing myself closer until I almost touched him. “Gently with your tongue.”

  His entire jaw was still trembling. His lips parted, but not wide. The tongue that slipped between them was hesitant; even as the tip of it licked up the droplet of clear fluid that had gathered at the slit. Then another lick — very small and tentative, and then another. His first time tasting a man and it was his own son. The thought of it was dizzying. I wanted to feel more.

  “Whenever you take any part of my cock inside your mouth, fold your lips over your teeth understand? If I feel them – even slightly — I’ll fuck you so hard that you’ll be crawling for days.”

  His head barely moved, giving me a nod.

  “I am going to slide my cock into your mouth now,” I told him, pressing the tip of my cock against his lips. He parted his lips slightly, his mouth opening as I pushed my hardened length through. He took instructions well; I didn’t feel his teeth.

  “Very good,” I told him, feeding him the thickened erection a little at a time. He was already choking, even before half of my cock went in. His tongue was slack, pinned underneath my shaft as I fucked his mouth with slow strokes. I didn’t expect him to be spectacular — the fact that his mouth was wrapped around my cock was all I cared about then. He would learn to be better with practice.

  “Open your throat up,” I said. It was the only warning I gave him as I shoved in further. The tip touched the back of his throat and triggered his gag reflex. It felt good, his trembling attempts to dislodge me only worked to stimulate me. He made retching sounds again and again, but I stayed in place until his spasm passed. His eyes were watery, the corners of his mouth dripped saliva that he couldn’t swallow. He looked absolutely wonderful — better than how I’d imagined he’d look that day when he lay unconscious and vulnerable in bed and all I could do was kiss him.

  “It’s not so bad...,” I said, combing damp locks of his hair from his forehead. “Just breathe and keep your throat open.”

  I watched the length of my cock disappear into his mouth; go in as far as it could, then slide out. He’d shut his eyes and tears still slid from their corners. His face was flushed and he was having problems breathing through his nose as his mouth was being fucked. I couldn’t help but smile. Our first real connection.

  “I am not going to hold back,” I told him. I wanted to, so I could savor the wonderful sensations coursing through me then, but he probably couldn’t last any longer. I wanted to cum down his throat before he passed out. “Swallow everything.”

  I slid my cock out enough so the tip rested on his tongue. I wanted him to taste it, not just swallow it. His eyes were half-open, his eyelashes wet. The way he looked at me then, almost pleadingly, set off the welled-up swelling in my crotch. I let out a yell as I felt the torrent inside me let loose. I came hard in several spurts. I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he struggled to swallow as quickly as he could. A trickle came out from the corner of his mouth.

  “Not done yet. Get the rest of it out,” I told him between breaths. With the energy gone from my limbs, I had to brace myself against the headboard to let him continue to work on my still-hard cock. He kept on licking and sucking until I was soft.

  I complimented him and untied his wrists. His body slumped onto the mattress. He curled on his side, trying to make himself smaller. I slipped into bed with him and gathered him to me. My front pressed against his backside. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss on his shoulder.

  “I love you,” I told him. I didn’t expect him to answer and he didn’t. It didn’t matter to me anyway. His warmth was worth more to me than muttered words that I probably wouldn’t believe anyway.

  CHAPTER 4

  I scarcely tracked the days. Time passed in the form of light that spilled from small panes in the bathroom. Without the lamps, the cabin was often dim and on some nights, absolutely dark. I had a watch with the date, which was the only connection I had to the world outside. Days still passed by and lives did continue, even if it was just us two existing in our little world.

  Somewhere outside this little vacuum, I knew there would be people looking for him — perhaps that woman. And when I returned to my job, I might even see a missing person report bearing his name. Sometimes I would fantasize what that day would be like for me, walking through his abandoned apartment, making a pretense of an investigation. Perhaps I would make a point to ask his son — my half-brother — for an interview. It would be an interesting challenge, for me to look sympathetic as the man spoke of his father. My father.

  I passed time thinking those thoughts — almost absurd. I would think about them as the night crept by and I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t certain if he slept, but I held him. I would usually lower the heat at night, making the cabin colder so he would allow me to warm him.

  It had been three days since I had tried to make love to him. Since then, he had been obedient, as if he had decided that I would fuck him as a punishment if he angered me. He was quiet most of the time, saying nothing when I spoke. He answered me with nods or shakes of his head when I asked questions.

  “Have you thought about the papers?” I asked him one morning as we ate breakfast after a shared bath. Because he had behaved, I allowed him to have his pants. It was the first time since the night I brought him to the cabin that he had worn them. He seemed to be subtly happy to have them.

  As if to acknowledge my meaning, he looked to the side where the birth certificate and the DNA result papers still lay scattered on the floor, not too far from the bed. He looked back at me. “Besides that you regret your mistake,” I said.

  “I don’t think you’re a mistake,” he said. “What you’re doing, is.”

  “Would you be able to promise that you’d stay with me forever?” I asked, pushing the scrambled eggs on my plate back and forth with the plastic fork. I was looking at them, not at him. “The kind of promise you made with your dead wife and believed?”

  “You wouldn’t force that kind of promise on someone if you loved them.” I laid the fork down and looked at him. He met my eyes, unwavering.

  “You mean, if given a choice, that you couldn’t make that kind of promise with me.”

  He was still unflinching when he spoke. “I wouldn’t lie. Not even to you. I couldn’t...not after what you’ve done to me.”

  Somehow I had braced myself for that and didn’t feel angry. He seemed to be mildly surprised that I didn’t lash out at him. He was being honest, I told myself. I might have been more upset in the long run if he had plied me with lies and more lies to win my favor...and perhaps tried to secure a chance to get out. He hadn’t. I was sad but not angry.

  “Finish your breakfast,” I told him as I left my seat, taking my unfinished food with me.

  He ate, but not much more as I cleaned up the cooking area. Half an hour went by quietly — the only sounds in the cabin were mine. He only watched until I unlatched the chain that tethered him to the table. I left him sitting on the stool while I went to the bed. I sat on the edge of it.

  “Come,” I said.

  It was the usual word that signaled his “chore”. He di
splayed a look of contempt but he came. Sliding off the stool and walking to me hesitantly, he knelt between my knees and pried at the button and zipper of my pants carefully, almost afraid to touch me.

  He had sucked me more than just a few times, using his mouth to pleasure me, drain me. He didn’t look at me as he pulled my half-hard cock from my opened zipper. Slow licks at first to wet the crown, before sliding his tongue over the rest of the shaft — over and over again, a predicable and careful pattern. He wouldn’t take the shaft into his mouth until my cock was hard.