Merry Fucking Christmas
Hmm, first finished story in a loooong time. Hopefully more will come more frequently. If you like the story, or more importantly if you don't, please comment :) I get far too much pleasure out of it and makes me want to write more. This story contains mushy romance, ample foot fetish stuff, a lot of spooge, a respectable level of bukkake, male impregnation, lewd ball-scratching at the dinner table, and of course incest... you know, a lot of the good stuff. Have fun reading! I had fun writing.
Sin is what holds the world together. Not sins themselves, but, the idea of it can be said to. Rules were enforced by people not wanting to be sinners, or not wanting to collect too many sins for a favourable afterlife, for those who believed in such things. Crucial to being able to live with one's self was the idea that sins could be, perhaps, forgiven, either from a God or people one's wronged. In Verne's case, the young, averagely-built but small lion wanted it from his dad. Verne hadn't even managed to hold himself together during the funeral, he'd lacked the control, and left for some of it. He regretted that. He also regretted the countless nights he spent locked away from his parents instead of being with them.
"North Point? That's an hour from here."
Verne tenderly unwrapped his fine woolen scarf from his golden-furred neck, letting the clothe hang down the flaps of his long, ankle-length black coat. After putting on his seatbelt he leaned back and rested his head on the backseat of the taxi. "Yeah, and I'll pay you double, plus gas, if you need," the lion said. He gently closed his eyes and brought his paw up, running it through his bangs tiredly. He'd just gone through a long flight, a longer bus ride, and had managed to get a ride up to a town with about 2,000 people. To get to North Point - 300 souls, the beaming metropolis that it was - he had to take a taxi. A very, very expensive taxi. It would take him just about the rest of his savings to get there.
"Mighty expensive..." murmured the driver, still hesitant about starting up the car.
Verne pulled out a credit card and tossed it into the front. "Pre-charge it or something then," he said. "It's only a one-way trip." Perhaps the rest of his credit, not the rest of his savings, if he had to be exact. His parents - that was, his father and some woman he married when Verne was 12 - hadn't left him with very much, and the biological parent he had left barely had enough to keep his mortgage down, from what Verne had been told.
After the driver swiped and charged some in advance, the taxi started. "You sure you're only going one-way?" the stallion asked. "No motel or hotel."
"I'll be staying with my dad for a few months," Verne said.
"Gettin' away from your mom for a while?" the driver asked, laughing lightly in an attempt to make some conversation.
Verne couldn't help but laugh a little, at first seeming to reciprocate. "She died with my other dad. I'm not eighteen just yet, so I've gotta spend a few months with the biological father before I can be on my own. Then I can rejoin the rest of civilization," he said. 'And Mark...' he added in his head. He had no idea how Canadians or shady Canadians like this taxi driver took to fags like him, though, so Verne had kept that name to himself. Of course, to leave North Point he'd have to get some sort of job and get enough money for the Taxi Fare, the Bus, the Plane, and a few months rent and bills ready to get a place in San Drakkis again.
"Your parents got divorced?"
The lion sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. The trip was going to be an hour long, why didn't the driver just put on some music or something? "No. One night stand," he said, "parents both happened to be in North Point for something. My dad lives there, other one was there for research," he said, hoping the matter would get dropped.
"Your mom was a scientist?"
Verne grit his teeth. Normally he would lie about it... but they were dead. No harm in bringing them shame now. It would be worse to lie about them in death, he supposed. "No, my dad was."
The driver's look of confusion came loud and clear through the rear-view mirror. "But you-"
"Yeah, I know. Long story," he said, one that involved his dad once getting mixed up in some mob business when he was a kid. He'd gotten some Eskachoff blood swap as a kid, though the particular strain of spell had been spreading quite rapidly, making male pregnancy go from virtually impossible to only rare.
"Ah! I've heard about tailraisers like 'em then," the driver said, "I've never actually met an Male-Sp- Oh, sorry. Guess you don't like the name I guess. You must hear it a lot."
'Male-Spawn', thought Verne, his mind only stinging a little at hearing the start of it. He'd kept it relatively hidden growing up, so he hadn't been teased with it too much from other kids. Whenever two males produced a child there were some differences. For one, the child also had the effect of the original spell, which started however many centuries ago. Verne could get pregnant if he wasn't careful. Second, 90% of them were gay, as the typical ratio from straight offspring was virtually flipped. Verne was in the 90%, though he quite liked that part. Men were so, so delicious... he wouldn't want to be straight even if he could. "It's fine," Verne said.
"You ever meet him before?"
"Once, I guess. Came to visit us in the new house, when I was, like, five or six. I remember him a little. Mostly because his clothes were kind of worn down, and I remember he smelled. Not badly, just, smelled a lot," the lion said, staring out the window of the cab. He didn't know why he was saying so much. He hadn't talked to much of anybody, he supposed, in many months. His friends had all gotten quiet around him, as if afraid anything they said would be insensitive or wrong somehow. Snow had begun to fall, though he supposed the father north he went the worse that would get.
He remembered a bit more than he told the driver. He remembered sitting in the smelly, muscular lion's lap and smiling widely up at the man, who smiled even more brightly back down at him. He smiled more earnestly than his other dad or mom ever did, and it had made him trust the large lion completely. He'd believed 'Uncle Bruno' when the kingly lion promised he'd come back the next summer to take Verne on a trip to Canada, since young Verne would've done anything to see a real, live moose. The last time Verne ever saw Bruno, he was waving goodbye from a seat at the airport. Verne could see - in hindsight - his father's attraction to Bruno, the reasoning behind the one night stand. The lion had a belly, to be sure, but that was part of the general pull. His mane was unkempt, he was muscular, he wore flannel... it was like he was more bear than most bears, at least back then. He remembered, too, those red eyes that were so much like his own, the red eyes the young Verne had that didn't match his mom or his dad's. Even in the memory of Bruno's eyes he could still feel the gravity pulling at him. And, of course, Alex hated him. From what Verne had pieced together, Bruno had freaked out when Alex told him he was pregnant, seeing as Alex was - before the pregnancy - unaware that he was affected by it. If dad were watching him, what would he say about Verne going to live with Bruno for months?
The cab driver changed the subject, and Verne happily went along with him while staring out the frosted window to watch the green pine trees and other naked trunks fly by. He half considered dragging out his sketchbook, drawing inspiration from the beautifully alien snow and treeline, but then decided against it. Drawing in the car always made him sick, and he'd have plenty of time to sketch when he was in the town with absolutely nothing else to do.
The house, noted Verne, was nothing at all like he thought it'd be. Alex - the name of the father that birthed Verne - had told his son that his car had broken down, so he went to the richest looking house, figuring that one would have the phone. He went inside, called for the tow truck, and while waiting had gotten rowdy with the house's owner, who was male. Alex blamed it on the alcohol Bruno had given him, since he'd never done stuff with a guy before and swore he never did again. The house with the address given to him was about two miles down a dirt road, and out of the four houses within sight, Bruno's was the smallest and most run-down. The house's barn was larger than it! "Fifty dollar mortgage was too expensive, I guess..." the lion joked to himself with an undertone, waving away the taxi. Shivering from the cold due to his woeful lack of preparation for moving up north, the lion ran forward through the falling snow in his spring jacket to reach the front porch, which was covered in snow as well. Verne pressed the doorbell and bit his tongue lightly. What was he going to say to Bruno? 'Hey, remember me?', 'Where's that moose you promised me?', and 'Hi, I'm your illegitimate crime-against-nature son!' were just some of the fun introductory possibilities he concocted to stave off fears of his toes falling off from the cold. Running shoes, too, were a part of the woeful lack of preparation.
Then again, a gaping maw of horror would work just as well as an introduction. The heavy, inside door of the house swung open, and for a brief second the large male was obscured by the door's shadow - but, that shadow ended when the door swung inside. It was Bruno, alright, Verne could tell by the stomach. He hadn't even made his way up to the eyes yet. Bruno had answered the door in a robe that lacked its belt, giving his son more intimate a picture of his estranged dad than he had wanted at that moment. "H-hi..." Verne finally stammered, forcing his eyes to meet up with Bruno's. Verne had been expecting the man to have a disinterested or angry expression. After all, this kid he hadn't cared to so much as send a card to in twelve years suddenly needed to live with him for ten months. What he saw, though, was completely unexpected. The look made Verne feel like he was five again. The big, hearty, sincere smile on the oversized, muscular lion king was just as glorious as before, and it made Verne eagerly rip open the outer door. Verne was a little shorter than 5'7" or so, but his dad was easily over 6'9" or 6'10", from what Verne guessed, and so much bigger around on account of the mass of muscle and girthy belly.
The two embraced in a hug, one which Bruno tightened with enthusiasm. Verne's arms couldn't quite wrap around, so, he gripped into the big lion's back for greeting. Verne's tail flicked nervously when his dad's naked crotch pressed against his lower belly, but he was so much more taken in by the warmth, the smell, the pure re-living of one of his most peaceful moments as a child. 'False sincerity,' his mind warned him. Verne immediately broke off the hug. He'd been fooled by the man before, and he was intent on keeping himself neutral and ready to be disappointed again. He wasn't going to spend weeks moping and crying in his room when Uncle Bruno didn't come take him; or, rather, when Father Bruno inevitably told him to move out quicker.
Verne coughed as he pulled back. Air rushed in from the closing door, blowing a good deal of the taller lion's musk into his son's face. Verne grinned, the smell had only grown stronger as the years went on, he noted. It was almost overpowering, but still not unpleasant at all. If anything, it was-
"Verne!" his father exclaimed, breaking the brief silence, "I'm so happy you're finally here. Spent all day cleaning up," he murmured, turning to look at the small place.
The son found it lightly amusing that Bruno had spent 'all day' cleaning up, but hadn't put on some clothes to meet him, or take one of the many dirty clothing items off of the floor. Was that a thong? No - scratch that - was that a camo thong? "Wow, thank you," the seventeen-year-old said, stepping out of his practically frozen running shoes. He looked further inside to get a layout of the house, from what he could see. He soon realized that his immediate vision was to be the extent of things. There was a raised landing from the door which lowered into a den. The den had an open door with a bathroom on the other side, another door led to a kitchen, and finally there was a walk-in closet with the door torn off. 'Classy,' Verne thought at that. He craned his neck to peer inside the closet. There were half a dozen pairs of slacks - two stained, he could spot - and about a dozen collared shirts. After that there were three worn-down robes, only one of which still retaining its belt. What did the man wear on his time off? His eyes then found one more curiosity, a trap on the floor. There was a basement, at least! Though, it appeared to be sealed off... where did he sleep? More pressingly, where was Verne going to sleep? He was still waiting for sensation to return to his tail, there was no way in hell he was going camping outside.
"My god..."
"Hmm?" murmured Verne, hanging his coat up on the wobbly coat-stand. He turned to see his father completely. Deeper inside, the greater light allowed them both to size each other up. Verne was struck by a lot of things. Again, he was struck by his father's distractingly large balls hanging in plain sight, which were no longer as... unwelcomed, as they were when the door first opened. The next thing was the sheer volume of the large bear's stomach, muscles along his chest, and the thick mane that ran up to the back of his neck and over his head. It was beautiful, thick and red, unlike his own which was a light, almost feminine mane of a muted, browned tan colour. Then there was his face. It was less rounded than before, the chin was sharper and more pronounced... dear, yes, he understood Alex's attraction all too well. And even that was to speak nothing of the eyes, which were gorgeous and a force all their own, if it wasn't too narcissistic for Verne to think with his own so alike. It was, perhaps, the strongest feature he'd gotten from Bruno's genes.
"You look every bit as gorgeous as your father did," Bruno said, "If not more so..." The kind lion's fingertips gently brushed up along his son's cheek. He grinned lightly, "The eyes are certainly an improvement... Praise the Lord I got to improve this world somehow," he said, "Fathered a positive beautifier of it."
Verne blushed and ducked away from the gentle stroke against his cheek with a laugh, "Is that the calibre of suave you got my dad into bed with?" he teased, looking at the walls. The walls of the den were completely empty except for the wall of the front door. Verne turned around to get a look at the array, which quickly caused him to stop and let his maw gape open for the second time that night, if not the last. One was a framed photo of Bruno and Alex together on Bruno's couch, another was of them in a car together, another was of them lip-locked while laying in a pile of bright red, orange and yellow leaves. This was not a six hour affair, it was six months, at minimum.
Bruno looked up to meet where his son was looking. "My favourite's the one on the end," he said.
Verne blinked at what he saw in the final, largest framed photograph. Alex, the father who raised him, was gorgeously laid out across the kitchen table. One hand supported his head, the other touched his hip and provocatively ran some fingers over the edge of his nice, soft posterior. If the eyes of the man staring lovingly into the camera were had been red, Verne could've easily believed it was him striking the pose, the resemblance was so astonishingly close. "It's beautiful," Verne commented.
"Thanks. I'm a photographer," said Bruno, "or, the closest thing this town's got to one. I run the drug store," he said, "and the only photolab is in there. So, ready for dinner?" he asked, stepping towards the kitchen.
Verne grinned, if only because his father hadn't taken the time to change his robe or do anything to close it. Did his dad really have that much disdain for decency? "Yeah, I'm starving," Verne said, putting a bounce in his step as he followed closely behind his dad, whose tail was wagging behind him. The smell being wagged into Verne's face made him cough again. It smelt like his paw did after a few hours of jerking off, when the sweat from his pubic fur, balls and thighs got all over his paw. In fact, Verne remembering that led him to realize that he was also smelling a little cum in the now-pleasant odour. Why wasn't he bothered by it? "So, you're a photographer?" asked Verne, "I guess that's where my drawing comes from, I suppose."
Bruno dragged his spoon along the bottom of his large bowl, scooping up the bits of pasta, ground beef and thick cheese sauce to the bottom half of his bowl. He always had a certain level of hunger, no matter how much he ate, so to be done when Verne was he'd eaten extra quickly and strategically. He didn't want to seem like a porker in the first meal shared with his son in over a decade, after all, and Verne seemed to be eating just as quickly as he. Bruno was almost disappointed by that. They hadn't seen each other in a decade, and their dinner conversation was restricted to 'Pass the Salt?' Bruno gulped and scrapped his spoon over the rim of his bowl. Perhaps there was something wrong in the way Bruno was acting. Was there some special way you had to act for a son to talk to his dad? Bruno couldn't remember from his Verne's grandfather. Out of that particular relationship, Bruno didn't expect Verne would very much appreciate getting hit for 'driving away pussy'. Bruno certainly hadn't. When his bowl emptied, Bruno leaned back and dropped his spoon on the napkin. What to say? "So..."
"Why didn't you come?"
Bruno winced. And there it was! The Gods obviously hadn't listened to his prayers for that subject to have been neatly and conveniently forgotten.
"Or at least call me? Or send cards or something?" Verne asked.
Bruno smirked a little, "I liked it when your questions revolved around moose..." he said. He took the questions seriously, of course, but he needed the stall time to figure out exactly how to respond to it. He supposed he had the last eleven years to figure out how, but, in all honesty he'd done his best to forget that he had a kid a few thousand miles away. His heart would've been broken so many more times if he hadn't.
"I'm serious. I don't mean to be clingy," the young lion said, "or needy, or angry or anything. You don't owe me anything, you didn't ask to knock up my dad. I get that. I also get that you're doing me a huge favour by taking me in," he said. "It's just... I was a kid, you know? You didn't have to say you were coming back, or anything. Why didn't you do anything after you said you would? Was I not what you were expecting?"
Bruno laughed and shook his head. "No. You were not what I was expecting, no, but that wasn't it. Listen, I... when I said those things, when I said I'd be more of a dad to you, I meant it. I really did. There were just things that got in the way. Your dad stopped me from seeing you, and at the time I guess I kind of agreed to it. I understood his position."
Verne blinked. "Dad never said anything about that. He said he didn't know why you didn't call me or anything," he said. "What got in the way?"
"Your dad just wanted to protect you. He didn't have to, but, like I said, I understood. Listen, I, uh... a few months after we hung out," Bruno said, picking up his spoon to drag it along the rim of the empty bowl again, "I did some time. In jail. Your dad just didn't want you knowing that I was a convict, and some other stuff, but yeah. That's the main reason."
Verne blinked. "Jail?" he asked. He supposed he should've felt some spike of fear, but he didn't. He couldn't fathom this father intentionally hurting anything higher than a fruit fly.
Bruno laughed again. "Alright. Well, here comes the scary part I guess. Yes. Convicted. The old police Captain stationed here was an ass, finally called up your Uncle Vic and me," he said. "My brother and I were quite... fond of one another, if you know what I mean. We were shacked up here together, we fucked a lot. Most of the town knew it, too, didn't care. Then we kind of got caught... under a park bench. Middle of the night, nobody around. Except a cop apparently. Vic got off, and that was good, but I got nailed," Bruno explained. He then laughed a little, "Not that it's your fault, but it was mostly because I had a kid. Jury was terrified I'd take the incest show down south, you know? Maybe hurt you. Again, I guess I understand their fears too, I'd perhaps do the same thing in their position."
Alex was stunned. Incest? His father had gone to jail for incest? "Dad thought you'd try and hurt me?" he finally asked. 'Would you have?' he wanted to ask, but his maw wouldn't voluntarily form the words. He was fairly scared at the idea, terrified even, but he still didn't want to accuse the male of that kind of impulse. The incest was a separate thing, after all... hell, even Verne realized that the pleasant smell about his dad was affecting him in improper ways.
"Yeah. He... my eye for my brother was one of those things I never told Alex about. Probably the only thing. It scared him, Verne, a lot, and he kind of freaked out. He was scared for you. He cut me off from you," he said, "and you shouldn't blame him. He was just trying to protect you. If I ever thought some man might hurt you I'd rip their fucking throat out," he said with a shocking level of sincerity. "I know I didn't raise you, but you're still me son. You were also a kid. In all honesty, complete and total, promise, I don't like kids like that. Even if I did, I'd never have hurt you like that, or any kid. Again, I'd rip the throat out of anyone who'd try and do that to you," he said, smiling. "You wouldn't have had to worry about me. No eye for you then."
Verne smiled. Well, that was good enough for him, he figured. He smiled, though, picturing the big male in front of him in bed with his own brother... the thought was a little frightening, but he couldn't say with honesty that he hadn't enjoyed quite a bit of incest-styled porn in his days. And fuck, Bruno was hot. He didn't blame Vic one bit. "Eye for me now?" Verne then asked, leaning back.
Bruno smirked. He let his spoon down on the table again and leaned back himself, eying up the young lion's buttoned shirt and neatly trimmed mane fur, then into his stunning eyes... dear god, yes. "You look very, very much like your father," he decided to answer with, which brought a broad smile to both of their faces. "But you don't have to worry about me. Just don't freak out if you hear me moaning your name in the night while I hump the sheets, eh?" he teased, winking.
Verne laughed, "I won't."
"On the subject of deals," Bruno said, standing up to pick up his bowl and spoon. As he rose, his junk lifted to hover just over the table, and even rested on the place-mat when the brute leaned forward to pick up his glass. He looked carefully at Verne's eyes, and again grinned at seeing those young eyes focused right on his package yet again. Was it mere curiosity, disgust, arousal? "I'm used to being the way I want around the house. Had a boyfriend stay here for a few weeks before we broke up, lived with my brother, lived with your dad for a bit here... never lived with, uh, non-sexual housemate, you know?" he asked. "I'm used to my way of things, but I'll bend, I guess, if it helps you. Do you need me to go shopping for some clothes around the house, or do you think you won't be scarred for life if I just keep doing my thing?" he asked. Verne opened his mouth to speak, but the coldness of the table made Bruno's balls shift, and the very tip of his cock pocked out of his sheathe. It was sufficiently distracting, Bruno could see, which again made him smile. How to jolt him? Bruno brought his paw down and lewdly scratched at his naked sac, dragging his clawtips over the orbs, then finished with a light scratch over the lips of his sheath. The father was aware of how horribly rude it was to do that while they hovered over the edge of the dinner table, but, he needed to shock Verne's attention back up to his face and, well, gauge just how much he could get away with.
"-N-no, that's fine," Verne said, eyes wide with shock as he finally broke eye contact with the genitalia to smile up into the owner's eyes.
Bruno smirked, "Fantastic. I think we'll get along famously."
The next few hours were surprisingly comfortable to Verne. There were no strange Canadian rituals he wasn't aware of, they didn't go after-dinner moose-hunting or anything of the like. They watched television, and that was more than alright by Verne. Unfortunately, Bruno was a fan of hockey, which was... less than ideal, but Verne survived by pulling out his sketchbook. He figured it was high time to draw those tree-lines he saw in the taxi ride up to North Point. In the first hour of the hockey match he was somewhat alarmed with how quickly his dad drank, afraid that he'd end up in the horrible cliché of having a wonderful sober dad who turned Hyde at the sip of Vodka. Instead, much to Verne's pleasant surprise, the shrinking level of vodka in his dad's bottle only made the lion a bit quieter on average and a bit louder when he cheered or booed the television set. Did his dad put slacks on to watch television, or fold his robe over his lap? No. That was impractical, Verne realized, considering how absurdly often the big, muscular lion scratched himself. For an entire period in the game, even, Bruno's paw seemed to be stuck in between the thigh and the sac, just lightly scratching the whole time.
How did his son know this? He'd been drawing the whole time, to be sure. He sat off in the only chair, giving him a good view of both the television on the couch, where his dad had happily sat and let his son be to his drawing. And while drawing that forest scene, Verne had drawn in the house, given how much he'd come to think of it as a cozy little place. The next sketch was of the inside... he drew the couch, he drew his dad, but had kept it decent with some liberal shading. Verne's eyes kept gravitating to the big male's body, though. It struck him how wonderfully muscular Bruno's arms, legs and chest were. He was obviously active... and yet the belly was there, but even that was growing on the young lion at an alarming rate. Then there was that package. It also finally struck Verne how massive the orbs were, just hanging out to be scratched and idly fondled while he watched the game. Before he knew it, two sketches of his dad had been finished. The first had some detail in the crotch, the second had it in all of his glory and had his footpaws in nice, detailed focus. The third? Verne was sheepishly staring in between those legs. His landscape-oriented sketch was only half-done, but he was already fighting the urge to purr as he drew in further, imagined detail, enthusiastically and feverishly drawing the lines and brushing in the fur of those beautiful orbs.
"Did 'ou do this with yer other dad?" Bruno asked, voice lightly slurred from the alcohol.
Verne shot up from his sketchbook with a look of pure guilt, as if afraid that Bruno had somehow seen what his son was so sinfully drawing. What did he mean? "Huh?" he asked, before figuring it out. Alex watching TV while Verne drew? "Yeah, sometimes, though it's hard to draw sometimes with people around... not with you, though," he said, smiling. "Sometimes he likes it when we d- Whoa, I'm sorry," Verne said, suddenly setting his sketchbook aside. For a brief moment he imagined that his home was actually still there, that him being with Bruno was just a nice vacation from home. "I meant he liked it when I, uh, rubbed his feet for him, so sometimes I'd just watch TV," Verne corrected himself in a much, much lower tone.
Bruno set down his drink. "You don't need to be sorry with me," he said. "Don't get me wrong, I loved your father. A lot. But he's hated me for quite some time now. I dealt with losing him a long time ago, you're still going through it."
Verne hollowly laughed, "It was months ago, I'm fine."
Bruno knew that wasn't precisely the truth, but he wasn't going to press for anything. He just laid back and made himself grin. The alcohol helped in letting his mood shift quicker, to which he was thankful. "You know, he probably picked the habit up from me. I generally made him rub my feet whenever I sat down to drink and watch some television," he said, wiggling his toes. His feet were resting comfortably on the coffee table.
Verne's uneasy smile strengthened. "Really? Made him? You guys weren't, like... S&M, were you?"
"Not really. I mean, maybe," Bruno replied, laughing. "Lesson number one about me, I'm a kinky fucking bastard. We really weren't much into heavy SM or anything, but I was the one that wore the pants, so to speak. My house, my rules... one of the most followed ones being 'Never Say No'. Vic and Alex were both special like that, they liked following my little rules, never said no to things. Was nice. Got me footrubs, a lot more," he said, winking. "I guess... they acted like pets. Mind you, rule worked both ways. They never said no to me, I never said no to them. We had sex when either of us wanted it, no questions asked. If you think you have the perfect relationship someday, Verne, drop your pants when you're taking a night-time stroll through the park with your guy and say you need a rimming. He does it? That's special. That's commitment and then some. Unless there really is a boundary. I mean, I've never been penetrated. Never quite worked up the nerve to let your dad in there," he said, the information pouring out of him as quickly as the vodka had gone in. Bruno looked the young lion up and down and frowned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk about your dad like that."
"No, no. It's nice. Side of him I never knew about, I guess," Verne said, neatly closing his sketchbook. He suddenly felt guilty about its contents. Not necessarily for being so focused on his own dad's crotch, but because a part of him suddenly felt like it belonged to Alex, not him. Verne couldn't imagine a scenario in which Alex wouldn't be furious to see his dear son idolizing his ex-boyfriend's balls. Verne tossed the closed sketchbook onto the floor and leaned forward. "I like hearing about him," he said again. "I really do miss him. A lot. Kind of hate myself for all of the nights I went to my room to draw, instead of being with him, y'know? Wasted time."
Bruno nodded, "Yeah. I understand," he said, before groaning and forcing his body forward off of the couch. "I'm gonna go get me 'nother beer," he explained, planting his large feet on the ground. He looked to his son again, then grinned. "You always rubbed his feet?" he asked, "You miss it? I missed his paws and such on mine," he said, moving out to the kitchen. He returned with a couple of coolers in his paw, which he set down on the coffee table before planting his feet up right beside them.
Verne was grinning widely. An invitation? He certainly hoped it was. He looked to the large feet, then at Bruno, as if asking permission.
Bruno gave it with a nod.
Verne moved onto his knees and shuffled to bring himself in front of the couch, partially blocking the television.
"Keep low, though," he said, picking up his remote, "I wanna see the screen."
Verne lowered his body and brought his paws up to those feet. He was used to ones much smaller than Bruno's, since Alex was about Verne's size in most things. The son's smile of excitement only grew as he brought his palms up to the base of his father's warm feet; and when Bruno reacted with a slight, drunken groan of excitement, Verne had to fight himself not to giggle. The moans became more frequent the harder Verne rubbed and caressed over the tender, sweaty flesh, rubbing his thumbs into the depressions to make each foot tense and relax to Verne's intimate command. Since his head was kept low to keep the television free for viewing, all the lion had to stare at was the base of those feet and the thick, muscular lower legs they were attached to, and he found himself staring at them with the same intensity he had used on the crotch for his drawings. He hadn't even noticed that the sounds of the hockey game were gone, instead replaced with four-seconds-a-channel surfing.
Bruno groaned and spread his toes far apart, and shifted his bodyweight down so Verne had more access... and just happened to give him more view of his legs, including some of his lower thighs.
"Where am I going to sleep?" Verne asked.
Bruno chuckled, "With me. Couch folds out into a bed," he said.
"With you? Ah..." he said.
"Problem?"
His son smiled and shook his head, "No, not at all. Do you, uh... wear anything? In bed?" he asked, shyly.
"No. Wearing clothes in bed is wrong. Supposed to be for rejuvenation, natural, you know?" he asked. "So no, I don't wear clothes. I don't expect you to, either," Bruno groaned.
"Sure, dad," he said. Verne followed the tacit command and probed in between his father's toes with his fingers. A sound of the next channel behind him made him paused for a moment, but he continued, even though the sound continued past four seconds. It was moaning, and a squeaking. Was dad watching porn? Verne turned his head to see, and surely enough, a moose was pounding the ass of a large lion tied up to a bed.
"Eyes on me," Bruno ordered in a quiet slur, wiggling his feet.
Verne did so with the obedience of a good son, and raised his head for a brief moment, just to see his dad's crotch. He wasn't jerking off - yet - but Verne was finally seeing much more than just the tip of the male's cock.
"Mmm, good boy," the lion purred. "Just as good at rubbin' as your dad."
"Just as good at this as he was?" asked Verne, laughing lightly as he brought his head back down. He lowered his paws and rubbed along the sides of his ankles.
"Well, rubbin'. Haven't done the other stuff yet."
"Other stuff?"
Bruno let out a drunken laugh and put down the cooler in his paw. "Grooming," he said.
Verne blinked and made his rubbing harder. Grooming? Dear, his father had never made him do that, though he'd once walked in on his dad grooming his mother's feet. Bruno's feet smelled musky, every bit as his crotch did, and they were certainly slick with sweat. How would it taste? Verne, after a few moments of contemplation, decided that he'd already crossed far too many boundaries in one day. What was one more? The young lion leaned up and experimentally kissed the base of his dad's left foot. The taste on his lips was salty, strong, but not at all unpleasant. The best thing about it? It made Bruno's foot twitch, and it made the male moan. That was good enough for Verne. The son opened up his lips and extended his tongue, connecting it with his father's heel before dragging it up at an agonizingly slow pace. His rough tongue both tickled and stimulated Bruno, which made his leg tense up and for him to let out his loudest moan yet. By the time his head and tongue had raised and dragged high enough to lick over the toes, sweat had collected in his maw, enough to make his tongue pleasantly sting with the salty substance. Verne retracted his tongue and closed his lips, and swallowed the sweat dutifully for his dad.
When his eyes settled on the male again, though, he was shocked to see that his dad's paw was wrapped around his cock, beating it slowly, in rhythm to the fucking on screen. Verne felt weirded out, of course, but also sort of... pleased? Was his licking making his dad feel good? A wiggle of the toes reminded Verne to get back on task, and he complied. He opened his maw and took his dad's large toe inside, and gently swirled his tongue around it, licking, completely cleaning the salty appendage of sweat before his tongue drove in between it and the next toe, licking up everything he could from the fur. He was met with more moans from the couch and faster beating, which just made Verne's pink ears blush red and fold back into his headfur. With his eyes set on his father's potbelly and the enormous, stroked cock in front of it, he opened his maw as much as he could and went down, taking as much as he could fit into his maw. He managed to get four toes in, and his tongue seemingly expertly went around each one and between them, shovelling the salty sweat into his maw, which he used to swallow and suck at the foot. His father's eyes weren't on the television anymore, Verne saw, they were on his worshipped foot. Verne also realized that he was in pain; the tightness in his pants was excruciating.
Bruno stroked his cock faster and leaned back into the couch. "Rub the other one..." he said.
Verne raised his paw and started rubbing at the side of Bruno's free foot, rubbing and caressing as strongly as he could, which was met further moans and grunts from the foot's large owner. Verne opened his eyes and focused directly on that shaft, eying the streams of precum flowing down over the shaft, his father's fingers, the pool in the crevice of the spot where the skin of his ballsac dipped, between the two orbs and the base of the cock. He fully exhaled through his nose, then sucked on the toes as hard as he could. The foot in his maw and in his paw jerked, the Verne watched as the male's entire body spasmed. Suddenly that cock turned into a geyser, spewing thick ropes of white seed first all over his chest and stomach, but spurts shot out that landed on his thighs, his sac, the floor and coffee table, his arms... he was getting covered in seed, and a couple of shots even made it to his forehead and neck.
Verne opened up his maw and pulled away from his father's feet. First he was in shock. He'd never seen so much cum from a person in all his life, especially from a guy who was actually in front of him. He expected his dad to get up, or do something, but the male just leaned his head back and let his arm drop in the ocean of cum over his belly. The spooge was running down the stomach, flooding into and over his pubic fur to cover and dampen his thighs and still-enormous sac. "Jesus..." Verne whispered.
Bruno laid his head back and yawned. "Mmmm... sleep now..." he murmured.
Verne blinked. "Not without cleaning you up first," he said, getting to his feet. He picked up the remote and turned off the television, though noted that cum had splattered over the top of the device, too. He looked over his father's sleeping, drenched body. Part of him wanted to reach out and hold that still-hard dick, amazed that it had shot so much! But he wanted to clean him up first. Verne went to the kitchen, found a roll of paper towel, and walked back out to the den. "Alright, let's get you spotless," he said, ripping off a few feet of paper to start.
By the time Verne was done, he had bundles of wet, sopping paper towel in his hands, and he was quickly carrying them to the bathroom before they dripped too much on the floor. He kicked open the door under the sink and flung all but one into the trash. One was nicely squished in between his fingers, and had settled into his fur comfortably. He grabbed it and pulled the sopping lump of paper free, and held it in his paw for a few moments. Verne turned back to the den, just to make sure his dad wasn't looking, then brought it up to his nose and took in a deep, deep breath. He could smell it ever since his dad came, of course, but the smell was so utterly intoxicating, he needed it closer. After a few moments of dragging the scent into his nose he tossed it, and closed the door again. "Alright..." he said, moving to the taps to wash his utterly soaked paws clean of his father's seed. "Done," he said, feeling rather accomplished. The seventeen-year-old looked down to the one last remaining problem... the enormous bulge in his crotch. To fix, or not to fix? There was no privacy, and Verne had serious issues with masturbating in a bathroom. Again, class was something one always had to keep in mind. 'I'll just go to bed,' he told himself, and padded back to the den.
Pain. So much pain. But... fur. Flesh. Bruno opened his eyes despite the throbbing pain behind them, and twitched his paw... it was grabbing at flesh. Whose? He blinked and cleared the blurriness from his still half-drunken, half-hung-over eyes. His son! Verne, laying beside him in the bed, snored lightly in sleep. Bruno found his arm around him, it had been gripping at his son's chest and nipple. It was far, far more innocent than his still hard, still leaking cock raging against the back of the poor, young male's thighs. His cocktip had even wedged in between those sleeping legs, and precum was leaking out over the front of one of his son's thighs. They'd both need a shower in the morning. "Mmm... fuck," he groaned. All he wanted to do was pin the teenager down and fuck his brains out 'til the little male came from it, but he doubted it would be entirely consensual. After all, Bruno hadn't exactly asked permission to jerk off while Verne sucked on his toes, had he? "Sorry..." he mumbled, half to himself and half to his slumbering offspring. He groaned and pulled himself out of the bed.
Normally he slept on the right side of the mattress, so instead of reaching the door to the kitchen he stumbled into the room's chair. "Fuck..." he murmured. Where was the light switch? He needed a goddamned clap-on-clap-off system, he noted. He took a step towards the kitchen and almost slipped when he stepped on a book laying on the floor. What the fuck was that? Bruno didn't even own a book. "Fucking words... paper..." he drunkenly mumbled. He reached down and picked the thing up, and carried it with him to the kitchen. He threw it onto the counter beside the sink and dipped his big head into it, then turned on the cold tap. Like a feral he sipped and lapped at the stream, hoping to drink enough water to stave off some of the impending head implosion all of the vodka left for him to feel by morning.
While drinking from the tap he curiously opened the book, which was just barely visible by the moonlight coming in through the window. The first picture was nice... trees, his house. His son really was a wonderful artist, thought the father. Talent in the tongue and the eye. The next picture made him smile as he drank. "Me!" he exclaimed, before apologetically pressing his lips tightly together when he heard Verne snore louder. He didn't want to wake Verne up. He looked over the drawing, pleased that his son didn't put clothing on him. He turned to the next one... and smiled more. More of him. He turned to the third... even more! And he turned to the fourth, unfinished page in the sketchbook, and stopped drinking from the tap completely. Two fucking boulders right there, furry and wonderful. His. The cold water just ran over his lips. "My balls are really fucking huge..." he muttered through his haze, his voice muffled by the water running over his words. He patted his balls with his free paw, then patted the drawing of his balls. He took the sketchbook into his paw, opened the cabinet drawer, and stuff the drawings inside. He had run out of porn at work, he'd borrow his son's book for tomorrow, just to get him through his break times.
Having turned off the tap, Bruno staggered into the den and looked at his son. He'd turned in the bed without his dad there. He was splayed out on his back, arms stretched out, showing off his beautiful body right down until the sheet covered over half of his sheath and ballsac. Bruno stopped and smiled. Why had his son kept on sucking on his toes when he found out his father was jerking off? Why had he spent so long drawing his father's crotch in such wonderfully pornographic detail? Perhaps his dream had come true. The big lion crawled up onto the cheap, old bed, and continued on all fours over his son. He shuffled up, and up, until he was straddling over the boy's shoulders, his crotch hanging just above and in front of his son's sleeping face. "Wake up," he purred. He was going to operate on that lovely theory.
No response.
Bruno smirked and pulled his hips back a little, grabbed his cock, and lowered it to his son's face. He slapped the sleeping boy's cheek lightly, then gently slapped the other one. The male positively giggled at the action and brought his firm cockhead to the boy's nose, where he pressed it forward, completely covering the boy's nostrils with a sudden gush of precum.
And it worked! Verne coughed, and his eyes shot open, completely overwhelmed by the rush of smell injected into his brain.
Bruno loved the look of shock and pulled his cock up, only to spring it back down to playfully slap at the boy's forehead, leaving splatters of precum on his fur and in his headfur. "Mmm... hi, son..." he purred again. "I know a secret."
He could see Verne's wide, shocked eyes. He knew that his son couldn't believe what was actually going on, how his dad had actually slapped him in the face with his cock. But he also saw the arousal, the interest, the complete and utter lust that the two shared. "Wh-what secret?"
Bruno drunkenly grinned, "I know you like my balls. You do, don't you? You loooooooove them," he teased, as if a nine year old was teasing another about a crush. "You wanna touch 'em, don't you? Verne and daddy's balls, mmm..." he teased further. Before his son could get a word out, Bruno pushed his hips forward and down, until his sweaty balls dragged across Verne's lips, nose, eyes and forward, covering them in his own father's musk.
Verne let out a muffled word, something Bruno couldn't make out.
"Kiss kiss," his dad said... and when he actually felt those lips kiss the underside of his sac, it was electric. His entire body shuddered, and he pulled back, dragging his balls downwards so they rested against his son's throat instead. He looked down to what he could see of his son's face. It was somewhat hard to make out, given that his shaft was laying across more than half of it.
"I h-have somebody... b-back in-"
"Mark, I know... he called before you got here. Meant to tell you. Nice boy. I won't tell if you don't," Bruno whispered. Fuck, he wasn't going to let some meaningless relationship get in the way of bonding with his son. Verne was the sexiest thing he'd laid eyes on since Alex, or perhaps even of all time, superior to his old love. Maybe. He wanted to fuck his child so badly that he could almost taste Verne's nipples between his teeth. "You guys fuck? Does he fuck you, Verne?" Bruno asked, bringing his legs closer together to squeeze Verne's smaller body between them. He didn't want Verne trying to squirm, he wanted his son to feel safe, secure, loved... he wanted his son to know just how fuckable he was.
Verne couldn't help but smile and nod, "Yeah... he tops..."
"You bottom," Bruno finished, licking his lips. "Sounds good to me... doesn't it sound goooood, Verne?" he asked, laughing again. He pulled his hips back and leaned down, holding his lips to hover just over his son's. "Do you want your daddy inside?"
Verne gasped and writhed against his dad's unbreakable hold. He looked deeply into those fiery red eyes... dammit, he did. He tried to say it, but the moment he opened his maw, he found himself lifting his head to lock those lips with his father's. His tongue surged forward to combat with the older male's, he coughed at the still-strong taste of alcohol that Verne could swear was going to make him intoxicated just by the smell. The picture of Alex came rushing into his head, though, and he broke the kiss. "D-dad," he said.
"Yeah?"
"No. I m-mean, Alex. H-he wouldn't want this. D-doesn't want it," he said. "I don't think he's too happy, looking down on this."
Bruno licked his lips and lowered his head again, grazing his lips gently against Verne's. "He wouldn't want you hurt," he whispered, before bringing those lips up to his son's soft, tender ears. "Not unless you liked it. He'd want you with... somebody... good... somebody who would take care of you... who knows what'll like more than any fag named 'Mark'..." he teased, taking his son's earcup into his maw completely. He licked inside of it, causing Verne to moan, then he gave the gentlest of bites to make the young lion jerk beneath him.
Verne was sold. "Y-Yes!" he finally stammered. When his dad's cock pressed against his thighs, though, he was shocked into more realization. "W-wait!" he exclaimed. "I'm j-just like dad, you can't, please," he said. "I'll get knocked up if you do, wait, just... d-do you have a condom? Please?" he asked.
Bruno raised his head and stared down at the boy thoughtfully. Just like his father in so many delicious ways, indeed. "Yeah," he murmured, "put it on me. Condoms in my pillow. Always carry 'em," he said, "gotta keep safe with guys you don't trust," he explained. He watched as Verne reached into his father's pillow and picked out a string of 12, which made his eyes go wide. Bruno just grinned, "I have a lot of one-night stands," he explained. He moved his hips up along his son's body and lifted, letting his cock stand out proudly above his son's face. He raised his arms and pinned reached up to hold the back of his neck. "You've put a condom on a guy before, right?" he asked.
Verne nodded, "Yeah."
Bruno laughed, "Good. We wouldn't want any accidents, would we?" he asked. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened, the rubber was already getting spread over his cockhead by his son. "Remind me to send a kind letter to your sex-ed teacher..." he teased, watching as the extra-large condom rolled onto his shaft. It was a tad too short, of course, but usually they stayed snug enough for a quick fuck. It would serve the father's purposes, in any case. Bruno pulled back and got off of his lithe, teenage boy, and started stroking his wrapped cock. "Lift your legs when you're ready. I wanna see your face when we fuck," he said.
Verne immediately complied, lifting his legs and throwing them behind his shoulders, quite expertly. His son was already adept at sex! That was fine by him.
Bruno could tell that Verne was nervous. His son's tail was flipping from one side to the other, his body was trembling... the large male climbed up and, without hesitation, pressed his cockhead and the tip of the lubricated condom right up against his son's nice, clean, exposed tailhole. He saw the trembling grow worse, and worst of all, he saw the hesitation in Verne's eyes. Bruno took gentle hold of both of the boy's wrists and tenderly pinned them above his head. "I... love you very, very much," said Bruno, pleased to see that his words already had a calming effect. The tail stopped. "And I think you're the most gorgeous male I've ever laid eyes on... the sexiest... the smartest..." he purred, speaking softly to his lover as he gently applied more pressure. His son's tailhole slowly opened and spread, and his cock began going in. "Oh god... the warmest..." he moaned, feeling the warmth grip his cock. "Fuck... you feel... oh god... just like your father... God..." he continued as more of his shaft pushed in. "Our first time? Right on this bed, Verne... same bed... same sheets... oh god, the same," he moaned. His cock pulsed and jumped, roping out pre-cum.
Verne was gasping and writhing against his dad, focusing all of his mental energies on keeping his tailhole relaxed, so that his father could penetrate without any pain. The images of him getting fucked just like his dad were... exciting, certainly.
"We were in this position when you were conceived," Bruno added. "Everything is the same... except the eyes," Bruno said, smiling as his son reconnected their eye contact. "Your eyes are so, so much prettier than his... and God, the male behind them," he moaned, leaning down to kiss his son.
Verne, taken in by the romance, happily kissed his father back and stopped nervously fighting against his dad. His movements became those of playful resistance, fighting against something only to keep all of their muscles working, to keep their sweat on the rise.
In the fierce, consuming kiss, Bruno drove home and pressed the rest of his enormous cock in with a measured, but quick, speed. "So... w-warm!" he groaned, feeling his shaft twitch and jet out even more precum. He could already feel weight in the front of the condom, it was already half-full of pre-cum alone! With his lips kept locked, Bruno started fucking the boy, strongly and quickly thrusting his cock in while his tongue dominated Verne's entire maw, sucking in all of the cries of pleasure coming from him. Of course, Bruno was still drunk, but he had some logical faculties working. What he wanted more than anything was to be with Verne, to watch his spooge drip out from his son's tailhole, for both of them to feel how completely Verne belonged to his father. He was determined to get what he wanted. Bruno purred into the kiss as his thrusting became erratic. He slammed himself in and out, in and out until he finally climaxed the act and slammed his hips forward, driving his crotch balls deep into his son.
Breaking the kiss, he gently licked at his son's lips and pulled out. The condom, still half on the shaft, had a full load inside of it. Bruno leaned up, grabbed the condom's opening and slid it off his dick, then held the massive, heavy, full condom over his son's face. "Mmm... was it good for you?" he asked, swaying the condom back and forth, as if threatening to drop it onto Verne's face.
Verne, still hard, stared at the condom in amazement. How could his dad cum so much after jerking so much of it out of him? It was staggering. "It was amazing," he said, rubbing over his stomach. He had an empty feeling inside, a physical one... he eyed the naked, still-hard cock of his dad and licked his lips. He wished to God he wasn't so different, or he'd pounce on it again, even without the condom.
"Good. For me, too," the father said. He brought the condom down and slid the warm, rubber balloon over his son's chest, up his neck, then rubbed it over his nice, soft lips. "Do you want what's inside, son?" he asked.
Verne grinned devilishly and nodded.
"Open wide," Bruno said, bringing the opening in the condom down to Verne's lips, "and don't swallow. Hold as much as you can in your maw, alright?" he asked. After getting a nod, Bruno released the opening, and watched a flood of the clear-white seed spill out into his son's maw, where it pooled up. "Keep your lips wide open..." he said. As Verne opened his maw even wider, he could watch the tongue disappearing into the new sea of cum in his son's maw. "There... keep it like that, alright?" he asked, idly poking his cock back around the younger male's tailhole. "You like that?" he asked.
Verne nodded and moaned in response.
Bruno grinned again, "Yeah... you do, don't you?" he asked. "You like Daddy's precum?"
Verne's eyes widened in confusion. Precum? Wasn't it just cum? 'Oh, fuck, no!'
Before Verne could bring his legs back down or clench, Bruno laughed and shoved his cock forward again. "Fuck!!" he hollered at the top of his lungs, spearing his huge, naked dick into his son. He was fully inside again. He looked down, loving the look of guilt and horror on his son's face... yes, he'd have fun with this. He saw his son gulp, and the level of cum in his maw dropped. "Don't swallow," he said, "Or I'll get rid of all your clothes... all you'll have is my robes to go about town in," he threatened, "or maybe my thong." It was an idle threat, of course, but it worked! His son moaned in shame and stopped swallowing, instead keeping the pool of precum around his swimming tongue, with a maw still open for his dad to see. "Good boy..." Bruno teased, giving a few light thrusts into his son. "I... just... love... bareback," he explained, "Feels so much better... and you can't do it too often! Nobody to trust... but oh god, son, I love you..." he said, "I want to own you, I want you to be mine completely... I can't do that if a rubber won't let me plant my seed, can I?" he asked, giving more thrusts.
Verne began to moan and squirm from the fucking again; but, Bruno just held his wrists again and kept him down.
"How can somebody really be yours if your cum doesn't drip from every hole?" he asked, fucking faster. Tension had been built up so much in his loins. If it hadn't been for squeezing some out earlier, he would've blown his load after rubbing his balls across Verne's face. However, staring down at his son's face, an expression so taken with both resistance and lust at the same time, and the pool of white inside of that dark, wet, warm maw was too much for the lion to bear for very long. "Swallow!" he yelled.
Verne closed his maw and obeyed, gulping down the pre-cum as the shaft inside slowed and pressed to stay deep, deep inside of him. Suddenly he felt it, the rushing of warm, hot cum inside of him. With a normal guy he would've perhaps not felt it... but not with his dad. As if cumming as much as the last time, Verne felt ropes and ropes of hot semen rush into him, filling up his insides until he felt a pressure build. "Oh god... p-pull out, daddy..." he stammered, groaning at the discomfort of the build-up.
"I want it all inside..." Bruno said in his fevered voice.
Verne let out a loud moan and laid his head back as it got worse. He looked back down, only see his lower abdomen start to push out. It was the only place for all of that semen to go, his dad was keeping most of it trapped inside by pressing his cock as hard as he could into Verne's tailhole. Of course, some was getting loose. The pressure was causing the cum to jet out, effectively covering his taint, his balls, his thighs, and the balls and thighs of his father. He could feel the thick, warm spooge sliding down his legs, completely owning his body. When he again looked into his father's eyes, he found what owned more than that. "Dad..." he whispered as the stream stopped, allowing him to start to adjust to the mass build-up in his body.
In true Bruno-fashion, the father quickly pulled out and laid himself back in bed with closed, rested, completely satisfied eyes. A sudden rush of escaping cum had splashed over his crotch, but Verne wasn't worried about that. Verne gasped and clenched his tailhole as tight as he could to prevent the cum from leaking out all over the bed, which would effectively ruin the mattress. "Oh god..." he moaned, rubbing his paws over the massive bulge of cum below his stomach. He looked up between the bathroom and the kitchen, trying to make quick calculations. He made a dash for the kitchen, remembering that there was at least one more roll of paper towel, and it was at least a meter closer.
Verne opened his eyes. At first his mind was empty, innocent... but the events of the previous night came rushing back to him in one quick, horribly X-Rated flashback. The flashback served a few purposes. The first, it made the naked lion spring yet another boner. The second, it made him turn around to try and find his father on the bed, but he was gone. The third? Verne rubbed over his stomach. What the fuck was his dad thinking? 'He was drunk,' he reminded himself. Not in control of himself, really. But still... fuck, what if that meant his dad didn't even want to have sex with him in the first place? What if he did end up pregnant and unwanted? He'd be cast out onto the street with nowhere to go, that's what would happen, Verne said. He had absolutely no money, where would he go?
Verne then shivered. Where the fuck was his blanket? He got up onto his knees and looked underneath, but found nothing. Only a puddle... fuck, was that cum? He twisted his body around and trailed a paw up along the back of his thigh, tracing a trail of semen to his red, sore tailhole. "Eugh..." he murmured to himself. He looked to the coffee table and picked up the few sheets left from the roll he'd used to clean his dad up from his masturbation session, then finished cleaning himself up. He rolled the wet paper towel up into a neat little ball and nakedly strolled into the kitchen, where he found his dad sitting at the table, reading a paper with a mug of coffee in hand.
Bruno looked up from the news and smiled. "Morning, sunshine," he said.
Verne blinked. The scene before him was eerily normal. Hell, his father was even dressed and ready to go to work, from the looks of it. Black slacks, a nice purple shirt that made the brute look rather clean and handsome. "So, uh, where do you work?" Verne asked, throwing the paper towel away. What a dumb thing to ask, he thought to himself. Bruno had beaten himself off while his son sucked his toes, then fucked him bareback while his son kept his tongue swimming in a pool of his father's precum? That was not normal. 'Where do you work' was a normal question. 'Say, do you know where I can get a pregnancy test?' was an irregular question, the one he should've asked.
"The drug store," he said, "I own it. Hard, though, no employees to help out," he said. "But I love it. I get to run the photolab. That's honestly my only reason for sticking with that damned store for so long," he said.
Verne blinked. Apparently he could get one at his dad's work... fuck. How was he going to get his hands on a test of his dad was the only one who worked the drug store? He'd have to steal it. Well, it wasn't really stealing if it's from family, Verne reasoned. And besides, it was Bruno who fucked him into his current predicament.
"So, Verne... I want you to relax up here, but I was wondering if, maybe, you could make dinner for us, if you know how? I should be home by seven," he said. "I don't know. I guess it'd be nice to maybe have a family di-"
"Sorry, dad," said Verne, smiling back. "I'll be out all day, I think. I need to try and find a job."
Bruno blinked, "Why? I make more than enough money for this place," he said.
"I know, but I've got a taxi ride to pay for, plus train, airplane, and I gotta make enough for a few months rent and stuff for when I move back. If I'm gonna have enough by the time I'm eighteen I'm going to need at least part-time. Like, thirty hours a week," Verne explained, "for how much I want to have."
Bruno set his coffee down and cleared his throat suddenly.
"You alright?" Verne asked. His dad suddenly looked... ill, like he swallowed something down the wrong way.
Bruno just shrugged. "Sorry. No, woke up hung over. I guess I had a few too many last night," he said, picking his paper up again, dropping all eye contact.
"Yeah, I'd say so," Verne said, laughing.
"I wouldn't know. Don't really remember much after the Senators scored," he said, shrugging his shoulders as he resumed his coffee drinking.
Verne blinked again. "Huh?" he asked. Oh, fuck, did his father not remember anything? Was he too drunk? "I... what do you remember?" he asked. He had to remember waking up in the middle of the night, right?"
"Staggering to the coffee maker," Bruno said, lifting his mug and giving his son a smile which was not quite as sincere as all of the other many, many smiles he'd shone to his son. "Sorry, but I'm gonna be late. If I don't open on time again Ms. Laherty's going to skin my balls. Bye," he said, standing up. "Good luck on the job hunt. Hope you find something," he said.
And then he was gone. Verne looked to the half-empty cup of coffee just sitting on the table. What the fuck was that? A night of nothing but pure sin, and then all of a sudden he's a mildly affectionate father who needs to get to work on time? When Verne heard the door shut, the teenager lifted himself onto the counter to sit. "Have a good day, dad," he said, resting his hands across his stomach.
Bruno set his large camera down on the floor of the passenger seat of his car, having snatched it up from the chair on his quick, unplanned exit from the house. He sat in the car, his paws in the 10-2 position, just waiting for something to motivate him to leave. He had another hour to make his fifteen minute car ride, what was he going to do until then? Nothing was open. Bruno laid back against the driver's seat and sighed. How could he have screwed up so badly? He let himself fall for somebody like Alex all over again, just for them to say "I'm leaving" again. The large lion closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep himself warm from the cold air around him. Best sex of his entire life, and the next morning the kid wants to make money for rent somewhere else?
Everybody left him. Alex ran after Bruno was less than happy with the shocking news that his boyfriend was magically pregnant, Vic bolted at the first sign of a federal charge. And then there were the others. Tim stopped seeing him because of the nudity, Alex (another one, not the same) bolted when Bruno had harmlessly suggested throwing watersports in the mix. Chris told him that he couldn't keep on living with somebody with no ambition. How could he say that? Bruno had ambition. He wanted his toes sucked while he watched television. He wanted to keep working the same job. He wanted to have sex six times a day. He wanted a family. He wanted to be rimmed each morning. Simple, honest, down-to-Earth things. And above all of those things, he wanted it to be with his own son. What was so wrong with him that he couldn't make anything work? Well, at least with Verne he'd set a record. "Hi!" to "I'm leaving" in ten fucking hours. Well, only one of them was actual fucking. The other nine were dreaming about it.
He looked back down to his camera. Developing would make him feel better. It always did.
Verne opened his eyes. At first his mind was empty, but then details flooded into him. Flashbacks. He didn't like them. He turned in his bed, trying to see his nude father, as if to defy his memories... but unfortunately, there was none to be found. His dad was laying there, alright, sound asleep with his back most certainly to his son. The sleeping man was dressed in slacks and a shirt. He ate clothed, watched TV clothed, slept clothed, all since that fucking morning. Verne hadn't even been able to sneak one look at his father's naked body, his last one was his dad's cock and balls completely covered in his own cum, drenched from fucking Verne. He liked that memory, it made him happy... the cold conversations, the lack of eye contact, even Bruno's outright refusal to let Verne rub his feet all made the son feel like curling up into a ball. It had been a month of this, and Verne was sick of it. He wished he'd never come to North Point. He'd gotten the best fucking night of his entire life, sure, but it came at a price. The awesome dad who'd just teasingly eyed his son before was gone. What the fuck had that been all about?
Verne grumbled and pulled himself out of bed. He looked to the bathroom, and contemplated the stolen pregnancy test hidden underneath the sink. He'd been too afraid to use to it in the previous weeks. He could feel something changing in him, an uneasiness, but he could chalk that up to his nerves over his complete and utter inability to get even a job interview in the fucking town. "I need some water," he muttered, moving instead to the kitchen. He'd deal with the pregnancy test another day. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if he had to tell his distant father that - hurray! - he would be a grandfather and father again, all in one child. He moved into the kitchen and checked through some of the cabinet drawers, trying to find some straws. He'd grown to hate drinking without them.
He found no straws, but he did come across a folder. He pulled it ou and laid it on the counter. "Hmm... he murmured, bringing it over to the sink. No straws, but there was no sense in dirtying up a glass anyway. He turned the tap on and dipped his head inside, and started drinking right from the stream. He opened the folder and picked up the first sheet. It was a photograph, and a damned good one! It was of the house. He went to the next one, which was of the inside of the drugstore taken from a worm's perspective. "Nice angle..." he murmured into the stream. The next photograph made him sputter, which launched droplets of water out to land on the shocking photo. He pulled his head from the sink, grabbed a sheet of paper towel, and quickly cleaned the thing off. It was him. He gazed over every inch of the beautifully shot photo... there he - Verne - was, laying on the bed with his knees spread, sleeping with a trail of cum leaking out and onto his thighs and the bed. He looked to the folder and picked up the fourth picture. It was a close-up of his tailhole, in and brightly lit so his reddened ring was fully visible. The fifth photograph had a thick, burly finger buried in the slick hole up to its knuckle.
"Don't remember, my ass..." he muttered, rubbing over his butt. Somehow the thought of his dad fingering him without remembering it at all was... part of him thought it was fantastic, to be sure, but most of him was just sad. Why? Why lie about it? Why make your son feel forgettable, or make him feel like you didn't even want him there? Verne couldn't understand it, but it made him angry. All this time, his fathered remembered what happened between them. Celebrated it, even, with photographic evidence. 'Well, you know what you did, then,' thought Verne, smiling lightly. 'You don't have a right to be mad if it turns out positive, then.'
Verne tucked the photos away in their spot and left the kitchen for the bathroom. It was time to find out. He stopped when he saw his father's face, though, sound asleep. He was calm, but had a slight frown, even in sleep. Something really was wrong, and Verne was the one who fucked things up, obviously. 'I'm sorry, dad,' he thought, looking to the ceiling to the father he meant to speak to. 'I'll get my life back together, after I get back. I promise.'
Bruno had put a lot of work into things. Lately he'd been feeling guilty over being so detached from Verne, he could see how much it was hurting the kid, little by little. Perhaps he wasn't meant to be a father after all. He didn't know how to deal with these things. How were you supposed to be a normal dad to someone who, one night, had your cum dripping from every hole? Tonight he was going to try, though. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he'd try and be a good, normal dad again, for his son's sake. He owed Verne that much.
The couch had been moved to a corner of the room, and the kitchen table was moved into the den. Candles adorned it, a chicken breast meal, red wine, flowers, and the entire room was decorated with reefs and Christmas lights and the like. No Christmas tree - Bruno hadn't had the time - but the motif was there. Bruno checked the clock; his son was supposed to be home from job hunting any minute now. It was perhaps a little early for Christmas Dinner, December 23, but he couldn't wait any longer. No simple apology would do for Bruno. The lion king always worked in grand gestures, grand thrusts. That was the way to live life.
"Hi," Verne said, closing the door behind him. The young lion - rather catty the past few days especially - kicked off his boots and turned to go sit on the chair like he regularly did. He stopped short when he saw the candlelit table in front of him, his father dressed with an actual, real-to-life dinner jacket, and a meal on it no less. It made the son laugh. His dad went through all of this trouble? Dear god, he wasn't going to be happy when he found out the news. All of this Christmas stuff would go to waste.
"Hi, sweetheart," Bruno said, pulling out a chair for Verne. "Sit? I thought we could have some dinner together. We haven't had much opportunity to talk," he said.
Verne sat down, but he wasn't happy about it. "Of course we have. You've just chosen not to," the teenager said. "I've sat there every fucking night and you don't say a word to me. Should I put on some music?" he asked.
Bruno winced. Alright, he deserved that. He sat down on the other side of the table and pulled his chair in. "Listen, I, uh, wanted to make a confession," he said. "I didn't forget that night. There's no way I would ever be able to," he explained, "It was... quite something. I remember it, Verne, and I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to drive you away."
Verne laughed again. "Sorry? Fuck," he said. "Well, then, I'm got an early present for you, dad. I'm glad you remember it. Remember that whole thing about dad? About Alex? I'm pregnant. Just like him, you screwed a cub into me. Merry Fucking Christmas, dad," he said, raising the wine glass in a mocking toast. He wouldn't drink it, of course, given his condition. "I can't really afford a Quarter Pounder right now, so if you'd be so kind to drive me to the nearest city before dumping me like you did my dad I'm sure I can find some way to get by," he said, lowering his glass to dig his fork into the chicken breast. He looked back up to Bruno, expecting to see some look of shock or horror, but all he found was a smile. Verne blinked curiously.
"You're pregnant?" Bruno asked, his grin impossibly wide.
"Yeah. In case you don't remember, you fucked me bareback. You have the photos to prove it, too," Verne said.
Bruno laughed and raised his glass, then downed the wine all at once. "That's great!" he exclaimed.
Verne blinked again. Why wasn't Bruno freaking out? This is what had gone wrong the last time. "Wait... why is it great?"
Bruno set his glass down. "Why? You're pregnant. You're having my cub... I'm going to be a father! I mean, a real father this time, I can have a family" he said, before his smile suddenly faded. "I... I mean, if you want me to be," he said. "You're young, I can raise it myself if you still want to leave, or I can follow you anywhere," he said.
Verne was taken aback. "You... you want this? But Alex said-"
"I was scared, Verne. For all I knew Alex's ass had turned into a vagina or something, I don't know. He could've been shitting me. I don't know. I just freaked out at first, but I never didn't want a cub of my own, or a family. It was just... how it happened, the first time, surprised me. This time I'm not. You're not the first guy I've impregnated!" he exclaimed, happily, "and that's fine with me. I'm sorry for how I've acted. I just wanted to give you space," he said, "I know you weren't happy with the idea of us being a family, so I-"
"Whoa!" the male exclaimed, "What? No, of course I wanted to stay. I mean, I've got a life out there... I wanted to go to school, you know, get a job of my own. I was planning on doing that, I guess, or keeping the option open. We fucked, I didn't know what it would be in the morning. You acted like nothing was different, so I figured nothing was," Verne said. "But... I mean, I'm having a kid. I want to raise him. So I'll stay here, we'll have the family, alright?" he asked.
Bruno just kept on smiling. "Alright. But eat up," he said, turning down to his own food. He touched his chicken with his fork, contemplating eating some of it, but he looked back up excitedly. "Do you have any names in mind?" he asked.
Verne laughed and started cutting into the breast, "Eat, dad."
Verne had never quite felt so loved in all of his life. He was in bed, naked, under the covers with the other naked lion. Their arms and legs were intertwined, wrapped around the other's body, their muzzles were connected at the lips and their tongues were fighting to switch owners. They'd been like that, kissing, grinding, feeling each other for almost two hours, and neither could get the taste of the other out of his head. It was electric, but it had to find a grounding, and it came in the form of a yawn.
Verne did it first, and then Bruno let one out. Comfortably, but still in each other's arms, they released their lips and laid on the pillow together, gently breathing with closed eyes, waiting for sleep to take them. Their bed was still in the corner of the room, the Christmas dinner table was still set up, and they wouldn't deal with any of it until the morning. That was fine by Verne.
"Mmm..." murmured Bruno.
"Hmm?"
"In the morning, wake me up..." he said.
Verne smirked, "Alright. I'll get you up."
"... no, I mean," Bruno said, forcing his eyes to open again, "I... want you to wake me up in a special way. I want you to rim me... or maybe blow me... or you can sit on my face, get me to rim you. I want to wake up to that, alright?" he asked. "Each morning."
Verne grinned and nodded, "Alright, I can do that, dad. Did you mean what you said about 'Never Say No' going both ways, though?"
"Of course I did. Well, I don't think I could take anything up the ass yet, but if you needed me to try-"
"No, no. I just... want to make up for lost time. Here, lay back," Verne said, motioning his father onto his back, giving full access to his crotch. "I want to sleep like this," he said, laying on his stomach across Bruno's. He leaned his head into his dad's crotch, lifted his ballsac with his paws, and shoved his head in there before releasing it. His faced was suddenly pinned between the heavy, sweaty balls and the hard, sweaty thigh, completely enveloping Verne in warmth and musk. His paw rested on his father's hard cock, and his paw lightly played with the damp tip.
"Oh god..." moaned Bruno, "You really are my son."
"Can I sleep like this?" he asked.
"Only if you promise you'll do it again and again," Bruno said, "and if you spread your knees out..."
Verne did so, spreading his asscheeks apart a little, which rested off the side of his father's body. Suddenly Verne felt a wet fingertip against his hole. Verne moaned and licked the thigh as the finger surged inside of him, buried right up to the knuckle. "Oh... fuck..." he panted. He didn't get a response, other than a snore from his dad.
'Life of sin,' thought the son as he clenched on the sleeping finger. He was going to like this relationship. In the briefest moment he felt some guilt, thinking about his dad... did Alex sleep in this position with Bruno once before? What if Bruno didn't really love him, but just missed Alex so much that a copy-lion would do? Verne snuggled his muzzle deeper, pressing his nosepad right into his sleeping father's taint. He breathed in deeply and tried to relax himself, to clear his mind. What he really hoped was that his dad wouldn't have hated him for what he was doing, that if he were alive, he would forgive the sin.
And, of course, his father wasn't angry with either of them. There were no sins to forgive; all I ever wanted was for my son to be happy.