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Subject: Rising Sap – Ch. 5 This story is about a man who’s in love with his best friend’s son. If you do not like age-gap romances or themes of adult/youth, do not read this story. You know the drill: if you cannot legally view this material, do not read this story. All of my writings are pure fantasy. I own all legal rights to my fictional works. A full list of my work on Nifty can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI We all love and appreciate this site, so please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: fty/donate.html ~ Chapter 5 ~ It’s hard to really understand what I’m feeling. The first word that comes to mind is “good,” but I’m also cognizant of how vague that sounds. I’m still basically asleep, after all. Soon, though, other words start coming to mind: “warm,” “heavy,” and “rocking.” Then, the more I wake up, the more I realize where the sensations are centralized: my groin. There’s a weight there, a heated, moist weight, one that’s moving, gyrating, stimulating me. As if something clicks, I suddenly realize that Scotty is riding my cock in my sleep. I’m still groggy as I come to, but I groan, my hands automatically going to Scotty’s hips. “Jesus Christ,” I murmur, blinking a few times to look up at him in the dim lighting. He’s grinning. “You’re a heavy sleeper,” he says, moving his hips in slow circles to get a good grind going. “What are you doing?” I ask, running a hand over my face. Did he really just start using me in my sleep? And am I really *this* turned on by that notion? I can feel my cock throb inside of him so hard that it almost hurts. “I’m all nervous for school,” he says, as if that’s a justification. Granted, he has been nervous for weeks now. Summer came and went, and as college drew nearer, so did Scotty’s anxieties. In the morning, he’ll be attending his first class. He’d been fussing over outfits and supplies and preparations all day. It took me forever to convince him to let me sleep tonight — and turns out I still am not getting my wish. “So you’re riding me?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. “It puts me at ease,” he says, moving his hands to my chest and then pushing down on my cock extra deep. Both of us moan simultaneously. Ever since I took Scotty’s cherry, he’s been absolutely insatiable. I figured he’d like it, but I hadn’t anticipated that he’d enjoy it as much as he did. It has become such a regular part of our routine that I’ve been fucking him nearly every night. In fact, he still has a load of mine in him right now. It’s gotten to the point where enough spit is often sufficient. I guess I’ll go along with it. Biting my lip, I hold onto his sides and start pumping my hips up lazily to meet his movements. He in turn moves his hands to his hard-on, closing his eyes and stroking quickly. The slick sounds of his fist make it obvious that he’s been leaking profusely — but I didn’t think he’d cum so soon. I raise my eyebrows when I hear him moan and then see his cock start to spurt out thick ropes of cum on my torso. Granted, I have no idea how long he’s been at it, but damn. Scotty pants, pausing his movements altogether and catching his breath. “God, I feel so much better,” he says, a light smile on his face. “Thanks.” Then, he wiggles his butt against my lap playfully. “What about me?” I ask him. He looks down at me and grins. “What *about* you?” I just thrust upwards lightly, making him bounce a bit. “C’mon, kiddo,” I murmur. “You woke me up. You should finish the job.” He scoops up a little of his load on his index finger, guides it to my lips, and has me suck on it. “Ask nicely, Daddy,” he says. I grunt around his finger, licking off his flavor before saying, “Please, baby.” “Please what?” “Make me cum.” He starts rocking his hips ever so slightly. “You wanna cum inside me?” “Fuck yes,” I groan. Scotty hits me with a mischievous smirk before he lifts himself out of my lap and then starts pulling off. “What are you–?” I start to ask, but before I can finish my sentence, Scotty grabs hold of my cock, lifts it up, and wraps his lips around it. “Oh fuck,” I groan, watching Scotty sink down on my length. “You filthy little boy.” He giggles a bit on my cock before starting to pick up the pace, his tongue running wild and his hand fondling my balls. I lie back and close my eyes to just enjoy the sensations. I even bring my hand to the back of his head, lightly petting him gratefully rather than applying pressure. Part of me wants to laugh. I mean, I’m not surprised by Scotty’s high sex drive. That’s normal for his age. What surprises me are his interests. Between calling me “Daddy,” being cum-hungry, and having a penchant for rough sex, I continue to underestimate his lack of innocence. Gingerly, Scotty pulls off, lapping up and down the length of my manhood before he starts kissing lower. At first, I think he just wants to suck on my balls a bit, so I spread my legs a little wider for him. But he doesn’t stop there. He actually lifts my balls with his index finger, holding them up as he kisses down my taint — and when I realize what he’s going for, I grunt and lift my legs a little more. I hold the back of one of my thighs enough to present my hole to him, and without hesitation, Scotty dives in tongue-first. The sensation is shocking at first because Scotty has never done this before, but God, it feels divine. My eyes roll back as he drags his tongue across my hole, and I wrap my hand around my cock and start stroking in tempo. Jesus, how long has it been since I’ve gotten this kind of treatment? I can feel my vocal chords straining from my moans but I can’t help it. It feels too fucking good. As Scotty kisses and runs his tongue in circles, techniques that show he’s been paying attention when I rim him, I feel my orgasm quickly approaching. “I’m close, Scotty,” I groan, stroking faster. He pulls away and licks his lips before smiling up at me. “Still wanna cum in me?” he asks. I just nod. I don’t care where I cum at this point. I’m just desperate for relief. Scotty grins wider before sitting up on his knees. He uses his cum as lube, scooping it up and stroking me gently with a sure fist. Then, he turns his back to me and straddles my lap. I hold myself up for him as he sinks down. Even in the dim lighting, I can see the way his hole stretches around my girth — and what a fucking sight that is. It’s so lewd, so fucking hot, that I nearly cum right then and there. I move my hands to his ass, gripping each cheek and prying them apart as he starts to sink down, even deepening the arch in his back to give me a little show. Biting my lip, I watch him move hypnotically as he milks my cock practiced movements. For a while, I let Scotty grind and bounce gently on me before I realize I need a little more to send me over the edge. I slide my hands up and around him, pulling his back down to my chest. Then, with a quick maneuver, I roll us over so that I’m on top of him, buried deep and completely enveloping him. Scotty gasps as I start to thrust my hips. I go hard enough to electrify his senses, enough to fulfill that masculine urge to breed. I start to pant and groan, working into him a little faster, skin slapping skin until finally, my orgasm overtakes me. I bury my face in his shoulder as I cum in him for the second time tonight, grinding deep until the wave passes and the tension starts to leave my body. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “What?” I ask, lifting my head tiredly. “I’ve never felt you so deep. I thought I was gonna die,” he says with a little laugh. Instinctively, I start to panic a little. “Why didn’t you say something?” I ask, not wanting to hurt him. “Because it was thrilling,” he says, turning his head towards me with a smile. I stare back at him for a moment before laughing. “As long as you’re okay,” I murmur, gently rolling off of him and collapsing on the bed. “I would’ve said something,” he says. “Don’t worry.” Then, he curls up beside me, resting his head on my chest. Automatically, I put my arm around him to keep him close — but I do check the clock on my nightstand. “You know it’s 6am, right?” I ask. He groans. “Is it?” “Just past,” I murmur. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school now?” He has class at 8am for some godforsaken reason. “Are you kidding?” he asks. “I’m ready to hibernate.” I laugh a little before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “C’mon, monkey. No snoozing.” It takes a bit of back-and-forth, but eventually I get Scotty to roll out of bed and get his morning started. While Scotty showers and gets dressed, I head into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I might as well stay up at this point. At the very least, I’d like to see him off to school and wish him good luck. Once my coffee is made, I spend some time by the kitchen sink looking out the large window into my yard. The sun is just barely rising, so there’s a hazy, foggy sort of glow amongst the surrounding trees. Part of me can’t believe I actually bought a house in full with my ideal sort of property. It’s like I’m living the life I’ve always wanted: a getaway house with the boy of my dreams. Eventually, I hear footsteps behind me, and I turn to see him giving me puppy dog eyes. “What do you want?” I ask blandly. I know that look. He wants something. “Can you drive me to school?” I laugh. “Seriously?” “I’m nervous,” he says — and he actually looks it. I just set my mug down and place my hands on each of his shoulders. “You’ll be absolutely fine,” I assure him. “What are you so afraid of?” “Looking stupid,” he says, “or no one liking me.” “Two impossible things,” I tell him. “You’re smart, and you’re loveable. I know doing something new seems scary, but know that I’ll be here, cheering you on from afar.” He smiles. “Thanks, Uncle Ant.” “Just don’t fuck the teachers,” I warn — and Scotty laughs before giving me a hug and then heading out the door. I watch him climb into his car, and when he finally drives off, I sigh. My little monkey, chasing his artistic dreams. I look forward to hearing about how his first batch of classes go, but in the meantime, I stay home, doing some art myself. I’ve been getting back into it this summer because of Scotty. Painting was never my strong suit, but I find it extremely therapeutic, especially if I use my fingers instead of a brush. Something about it feels more intimate. I end up getting quite lost in it, spending my entire morning painting before taking a minor break for lunch and a short walk around the yard for some fresh air. It’s strange thinking how different my life feels, how at ease I am, how casually I address my day. I don’t have to worry about a job, or my finances, or (as much as it stings sometimes to think) an ailing mother. I just Giresun Escort go wherever my mind wants to be stimulated. Truly, my biggest stress right now is Scotty — and I’m so invested in his life that it can hardly be called stress at times. If I don’t think too intently about my feelings and the oddness of our dynamic, I can follow his lead better and just have fun. Closer to the evening, I hear the door unlock while I’m touching up my painting from this morning. Then, it bursts open, and in comes Scotty, bubbling with energy. “Hey!” he says, looking rather chipper. I smile. “Good day?” “Very,” he says, dropping his bag and practically skipping over to me. He kneels down beside me at the coffee table, taking care not to knock anything over. “Guess what?” “What?” I ask, amused. “I got a job on campus!” he says excitedly. “Now I can help with the bills.” I just smile patiently. He’s been rather fussy about that ever since he moved in. No matter how many times I tell him I’m perfectly capable of covering the bills, he all of a sudden doesn’t like taking money from me anymore. It’s part of his “I wanna be a real adult” thing. As different as he is from his father, they’re at least similar in that respect. “Doing what?” I ask. “Working the Information Desk,” he says with a big grin. “Turns out I’m quite personable.” I roll my eyes, which just makes him laugh before continuing. “Alsooo,” he says dramatically, giving me a smirk. “What?” “I got asked out on a date!” He looks like he’s been dying to tell me that, because he’s positively bursting with excitement. Me? I’m not sure what to think. I just kneel there, paint dripping off my fingers onto the canvas. “Someone asked you out already?” “I know,” he says, almost in disbelief, and he tells me about how he hit it off with a boy in one of his art classes. This boy, who immediately took a liking to him, boldly asked Scotty out before class was out of session — and the date is this evening. I blink. “Are you gonna go?” He shrugs. “I might as well, right?” he says, even though his eyes are emphatically saying yes. “You gave me all this confidence,” he adds. “Can’t let it go to waste.” I can’t really pinpoint the primary emotion I’m feeling. There’s excitement and pride and sadness and surprise and confusion, all wrapped up in a very disorganized package. I think the realization finally hits me: this is what I signed up for, isn’t it? To watch from the sidelines as Scotty makes an impression on other people’s lives? I want him to go on dates. I want him to figure out what he likes. I just didn’t anticipate it would happen so quickly. As excited as he is about being asked on his first real date, he’s stressed about how he should present himself. For nearly a half hour, he cycles between outfits, asking for my opinion on each one, and although I rate each ensemble positively, he keeps changing. I can see the anxiety growing around him like a cloud with every swap. It’s understandable. He’s only messed around with one other guy besides me, and both of us are more along the lines of “friends with benefits” than a stranger on a date. This is his first step towards a romantic encounter, and he’s feeling the pressure. Eventually, I make the executive decision on his outfit: a clean pair of jeans and a button-up shirt that’s both casual and a little flouncy without being too flashy. To me, it perfectly captures his personality and makes him look good without trying too hard. But it’s not just the outfit. I need to give him a pep talk. I take his hands in my face before he starts to derail. “Breathe,” I say calmly, and he looks up at me as he inhales deeply. “Don’t stress. The problem isn’t going to be you.” He eyes me curiously. “Meaning?” “He’s gonna adore you. No questions asked,” I say, and he smiles bashfully. “The problem is gonna be whether or not *you* like him. You have the power here.” He exhales as if relieved. “You always know what to say to calm me down,” he murmurs. I laugh and pat his cheek. “I just speak the truth, kid.” He grins up at me in a pondering sort of way before asking me a question. “Why don’t you date?” I snort. “It’s over for me,” I tell him. He frowns. “Don’t say that,” he says. “You told me you wouldn’t give up.” “Did I agree to that?” He scowls a bit and then hits my arm, making me laugh. “Both of us should have boyfriends by the end of the year,” he says. I smirk. “I’m not shaking on that.” “Come on,” he says. “It’ll be fun, and you need to get back out there.” If only he knew… “I’m fine,” I tell him, and when he gives me a skeptical look, I add, “Really.” “Mkay,” he says in an unconvinced tone, but he lets it slide. “Well, cross your fingers that *I* get a boyfriend by the end of the year.” I force a smile. “You got it.” As quickly as he came, he’s gone, heading back towards campus to meet up with his date. Over the next hour or so, I feel strangely lonely, in a way I didn’t feel when he was going to classes. Getting his education is one thing. Meeting what could be the love of his life is another. I’ll be happy for him, but what will that mean for our relationship? Will he forget about me? We all know how it goes: kids leave the nest and rarely ever look back — and can I really blame him? Just as I’m pondering all this, my phone starts ringing, and I’m surprised to see that it’s Eric. “Hello?” I ask when I pick up the call. “Antoni!” he says excitedly. “Have you talked to Scotty?” “About…?” “His first day!” he says as if it’s obvious. “I tried calling him twice but he’s not picking up.” “Since when are you so involved?” I tease, grinning. “Fuck off,” he says, making me laugh. “Not having him at home anymore feels weird. I actually miss him.” “Don’t say that like it’s a surprise,” I say. “You know what I mean,” he mutters. “Well… he’s on a date, if you must know,” I tell him, bracing myself for his response. There’s a pause before Eric speaks up. “A date?” “Mhm. With a college boy,” I add, wondering how he’ll take this information. Before his daughter came out as gay, he was terrified about her dating, and the relief he felt when she confessed that she’s only into girls was comical. However, with Scotty being out and proud, Eric has transferred some of his worries about his daughter to his son. “It’s only been one day!” Eric says, almost outraged. “I said the same thing,” I mutter. Eric just sighs. “Jesus. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?” “What do you think I’ve been doing?” “I just mean with this whole dating thing,” he says. “I can’t be there to… to vet his boyfriends. You gotta handle that.” “He’s not as soft as you think he is,” I remind Eric. “He can handle himself.” “He’s my little boy,” Eric says defensively. “You know how I feel about him dating men. We’re the worst.” “Speak for yourself,” I say, grinning. “I’m pretty tame.” Eric scoffs. “Pffft. You’re just as much of a bastard as I am.” Then, he switches gears. “Are *you* dating?” “Me? Yeah right,” I say. “C’mon, man. You can’t do this whole sad lone wolf thing forever.” I narrow my eyes. “First Scotty grills me and now you?” “We’re just looking out for you,” Eric says confidently. Little does he know the only person I want is his son. No one else would feel right, and unless someone pretty mind-blowingly spectacular comes along and demands my attention, I doubt that that will ever change. Autumn flies by, and Scotty and I both have late-year birthdays just around the corner. Scotty’s up first. During his first semester at college, he hasn’t had much opportunity to visit his parents yet. They wanted to hold off, anyway, granting him the space to enjoy his first taste of college without his parents breathing down his neck. They are incredibly excited to see him, though — and that feeling is reciprocated. He wanted something simple for his birthday: dinner at one of his favorite restaurants with me, his parents, and his sister, Eliza, who I haven’t seen much of the past half a year or so due to her being off at college. She made time to visit for her little brother’s birthday, so it’ll be good to catch up with her. But, as we’re making the drive towards his family, Scotty mentions something about his sister. “Just FYI,” he says, “I told Eliza about us.” My body jolts so hard I nearly turn the steering wheel abruptly. “You *what*?” I demand, glancing over at him. “She’s not gonna tell anybody,” he says. “And focus on the road.” “What the hell did you tell her?!” “Just, you know, that I lost my virginity to you,” he says with a slight smile, “and that you have been, uh… making sure that virginity remains lost.” I sigh heavily through my nose, my heart pounding. All the excitement I felt about seeing Eliza has evaporated, replaced with dread. “Jesus Christ,” I whisper, gripping the steering wheel tightly and shifting uncomfortably in my seat. What does she think? He answers my question as if reading my mind. “To be honest, she was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner,” he teases. “I hate you right now,” I mutter, and Scotty just laughs, placing a hand on my arm. “Consider it revenge for telling my dad that I’m dating,” he says, “which I’m still mad about, by the way.” Ever since I let that spill, Eric’s been on Scotty’s case about boys. “Was I supposed to lie and say you *aren’t* whoring around?” Scotty’s head whips around and he gives me a pointed look. “I’m *kidding*.” “You’re so mean to me,” he says. “I am not,” I say defensively, and when I see he’s just smiling, I reach over and grab his thigh to tickle him. He scream-laughs, swatting my hand away. “Exhibit A,” he says, catching his breath. “Just promise me you won’t talk about dating tonight.” “Why not?” “Because it’s embarrassing,” he says, grimacing. “Well, *Dad’s* embarrassing.” “That’s fair,” I say with a laugh. Eric is a typical dad in a lot of ways. “What if you really like someone?” “Debatable,” he murmurs. “I think you ruined guys for me.” I blink. “What? Why?” “None of the guys I’ve been with are as big as you, so it just… doesn’t feel right,” he says. He even pouts a little, which makes me want to both laugh and flush with pride. “I didn’t think it really worked like that but it drives me nuts.” I smirk to myself, making a point to not look at him. So… I’m the big man, huh? “Should I… apologize?” I ask. “Fuck off,” he says, and we both laugh. “Eliza seems to agree at least.” “You told Eliza *that*?!” I ask, bewildered. Confiding in her about our sex life is one thing, but my dick size? “Of course,” he says. “She’s my best friend.” He just smiles when he sees I’m getting all nervous about seeing her again. “Relax,” he says, placing a hand on my Giresun Escort Bayan arm. “It’ll be fine.” But even when we get to the restaurant and meet his family, I don’t feel “fine.” I feel on edge. Eric and Yasmine are their normal selves, hugging each of us excitedly, blissfully unaware of the intimacies of my relationship with their son. But Eliza? She gives me a very specific grin before she hugs me — the kind that says “I know what you’ve been up to.” I swear her eyes even flicker down when we separate from the hug, and I’m immediately flustered. I try to focus on things besides Eliza, so when Yasmine starts belaboring the changes the restaurant has made to its decor since we’ve last been here, I eagerly listen and agree with her. Frankly, this restaurant has always fallen short of stylish, but what it lacks in taste it makes up for in flavor. The food, mostly Asian fusion, is always superb, and it’s become a bit of a tradition among Eric’s family to have celebratory dinners here. When we take a seat in a booth, Scotty settles between me and his sister. It feels weird sitting beside him with one person who knows I’ve been inside of him regularly but can’t address it because the parents are (and should remain) oblivious. “Guess we’ve got all the gays on this side,” Eliza remarks, and all of us laugh. “Or single folks on that side, and happy couples on this side,” Eric suggests, putting his arm around Yasmine. Yasmine looks amused. “`Happy’?” she teases, and when both her kids snort with laughter, Eric gives her narrowed eyes. “You know I make you happy,” he says. She just pats his cheek patiently. “I know, babe,” she says, giving him a quick lips. “But Antoni’s looking rather handsome lately.” Again, Scotty and Eliza laugh. That’s been a running joke between the five of us: Yasmine and I running off together — particularly because it gets Eric all hot and bothered at the prospect of losing Yasmine. He knows he can’t do better than her. “You guys aren’t funny,” he grumbles. “We’re just teasing,” Scotty says. But Eliza likes to take things further. “Do you think Mom would have left you for Uncle Ant if he were straight?” “Oh, absolutely,” Eric says with total conviction, and all of us besides him laugh. “She would have left me years ago. I’d be worried if he were straight, so…” He gives me a pointed look. “Don’t be straight.” “Can’t say I have any plans,” I say with a laugh. Then, Scotty makes a comment. “Do you worry about me `n him?” Eric looks confused by the question. “Why?” “Because we’re both gay,” he says. Still, Eric isn’t quite catching on, and he looks between us a few times before asking, “I don’t get it. What am I supposed to worry about?” “Jesus Christ,” Eliza murmurs, trying not to laugh, and Yasmine just puts a hand on Eric’s upper arm. “Let’s just… change the subject,” I chime in, feeling hot. “But what–?” Eric starts to say. “How’s your semester going, sweetheart?” Yasmine interjects. “We’ve been dying to hear more.” Scotty has really embraced college life, participating in everything he can. It leaves little time to catch up with his family, but it was expected. After all, they want him to flourish and explore and make new friends. Scotty’s first semester has flown by. On his journey towards his art major, he’s been taking several core classes along with some supplementary electives outside his major. Turns out he has a thing for psychology, and already he’s thinking about a career in art therapy, becoming more and more excited about the future. “It’s been going great,” he says happily. “Keeping those grades up?” Yasmine asks, taking a sip of her water. Scotty nods. “Of course.” “Uh huh,” Eric says, unconvinced. “All those boys you’ve been floundering around with, and I would have thought differently.” Scotty looks at me irritably, and I just give him an apologetic smile. All along the way, he’s been dating around — and even though he’s exploring with other boys, we still have sex every once in a while. It’s a double-edged sword, really. I don’t have it in me to refuse him. I want him to explore, truly, but I also want him for myself, and I don’t know how to justify that. I just keep at least doing what I think is the right thing: supporting him in all his endeavors. However, the speed at which he goes through different guys terrifies me. It’s not that I think he’s a slut or anything. It’s that he’s so desirable, and not just to me. It’s almost like guys are lining up for a shot at Scotty, and although this is his opportunity to explore as much as possible, it completely limits my chances — if I even had any to begin with. I felt I had an obligation to keep Eric updated on Scotty’s dating habits, partially because he’s my best friend and partially because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep track of the ever-changing lie Scotty wanted me to concoct. It’s just easier if everything is all on the table. Of course, Eric does have concerns, and he has had no problem expressing them. “I’m just saying–” “Don’t,” Scotty murmurs. Eric presses on. “I’m just saying, be careful.” “You never tell Eliza to be careful,” he remarks. Eric just shrugs. “I’m not worried about Eliza,” he says. “She can take care of herself.” “And I can’t?” Scotty asks defiantly. I put a hand on Scotty’s thigh under the table. “I think by `take care of herself’ he means `doesn’t like men.'” Eliza and Yasmine both giggle, and Eric just shrugs. “So what if that’s what I mean?” Scotty sighs, slouching in his seat. “Well, I wouldn’t go through so many boys if Uncle Ant didn’t scare them all away,” Scotty says. I narrow my eyes as I look over at Scotty. “I don’t scare them away,” I say. “You *hated* the last guy,” he says, wagging his finger at me. “I could tell.” He’s right, but I never really like who he brings home. It’s not like it’s ever a fair assessment, either. It’s hard to be objective when I’m irritated by every boy who tries to get with Scotty. I hate their stupid voices, or stupid haircuts, or stupid hands touching Scotty’s precious arm. Anything they do, I automatically see through a territorial lens. Maybe I’m a lot like Eric in this respect. If Scotty’s going to date, I want him to date the cream of the crop and nothing less. But that’s just my own desire. I don’t ever tell him what to do, and I never give my opinion unless asked. “Yeah, but I told you not to break up with him just because of me,” I remind him. “And I told you your opinion is important to me,” Scotty retorts. Eric just grins in an approving way. “Good,” he says, nodding, clearly happy that I’m doing my part to vet the boys. “Can we talk about something else?” Scotty murmurs, getting annoyed. Now, Eliza jumps in. “What I wanna know,” Eliza says, glancing at me and Scotty, “is how you two have gotten along as roommates.” When I catch her eye, I see that she’s grinning a little mischievously. Her and her brother are the same in that regard: seemingly innocent until you get too close to them. “We’re great, actually,” Scotty says, leaning against me a bit as if for emphasis. “He still gets touchy about me paying the bills, though.” “You get touchy about *not* paying the bills,” I remind him. “I just wanna do my part,” he says. “Growing up so fast,” Yasmine says, and when Scotty narrows his eyes, she laughs. “I have money,” I tell him. “You don’t.” Now, Eric chimes in. “Let the man take care of you,” he says to his son, pointing his finger a bit. “Focus on your studies.” I almost laugh because I know he’s mostly saying “Enough with the boys,” but I don’t say anything. Scotty has a rebuttal, though. “Would *you* take money from Uncle Ant?” he asks. Eric blinks. “Well, no, but that’s not the point here.” Now, Eric and Scotty go back and forth, arguing about principles that neither of them really have. Eric is the classic “man’s man” in that he believes it’s his job to provide for his family. He puts the bread on the table. However, those rules are more or less tossed to the side when it comes to Scotty. Eric will deny it, but I think it’s because Scotty is gay and not exactly manly in a lot of ways. Eric doesn’t expect Scotty to fend for himself. Scotty knows that’s what his father thinks, and I think he’s trying his best to just prove his father wrong by getting a job and doing his fair share. Of course, after I mentioned this in passing, Scotty stubbornly denied it — just like his father. Part of me wants to believe him, but I’ve known Scotty his entire life. I know him. Eventually, the waiter comes back to take our food orders, putting a halt on their little argument. It seems that’s all that was needed, because the rest of dinner goes by swimmingly. We eat, laugh, share stories of Scotty as a little kid, and when the time comes, we sing “Happy Birthday” while the kitchen staff brings out a free dessert. At the same time, Eric, Yasmine, and Eliza hand over the gifts they got for Scotty. He made it very clear that he didn’t want anything serious, but the gifts were still thoughtful. Scotty’s parents got him a snazzy collection of art supplies, and Eliza got him a few books that have been on his wishlist for quite some time. Excited, Scotty thanked them all. Eliza of course asked me what *I* got Scotty, but Scotty informed everyone that he specifically forbade me from getting a gift. That didn’t stop me, though. Truthfully, my gift feels a bit silly: I drew a nude of Scotty. More and more, he’s been expressing interest in the provocative arts, and I figured this would be a touching way of capturing his essence — but as soon as I woke up today, I felt like this gesture was corny, and I’ve been avoiding giving it to him. Luckily, no one presses me further. Just as Scotty starts to dive into his brownie sundae, Eric turns to me. “What about your birthday?” “What about it?” I ask. “It’s right around the corner,” he says. “We doing anything?” They all know I hate when I’m the center of attention, so anything more than a nice dinner is off the table. “We really don’t have to do anything,” I say. “I’m getting him a massage,” Scotty chimes in, mouth full of brownie, and when I look at him with surprise, he just swallows and smiles. “You need it. You’re a big ball of tension.” “I’m not that tense anymore,” I say honestly. Ever since I bought my own house and started moving forward, I feel like I’ve been a lot better. “You never really recovered,” he says before looking at his parents as he touches my upper arm. “You should feel his muscles.” I get that his comment is rather innocent, but I immediately feel hot from how suggestive his words sound coupled with that touch — especially since Eliza knows Scotty has been Escort Giresun feeling my muscles in all types of ways. “A massage could be good,” Yasmine says, nodding. “It’ll work wonders.” “Didn’t you get a massage recently, Dad?” Eliza asks, trying to steal some of her brother’s dessert. “Oh yeah,” Eric says, automatically fixing his posture. “It was a godsend, lemme tell ya.” Then, he looks at me and grins. “You’re gonna love it.” “That’s if I go,” I say. “Just be grateful,” Scotty says, resting his hand on my thigh under the table — and then, before I know it, his hand slides even closer to my groin. I grunt when I feel his fingertips nudge my cock. As discreetly as possible, I nudge his hand away with mine, but the damage is done; as soon as I felt his fingers on my goods, I started getting hard. I shift uncomfortably for the remainder of dinner, waiting for my cock to go down. Scotty doesn’t even give me a chance, though. Every now and then, he’ll reach back over as if sensing that I’m starting to go soft again, touching the deepest part of my inner thigh without actually touching my cock. At one point, Scotty even takes my hand to touch *him*. Eric eventually asks if I’m okay, and I get so flustered that I stutter through a fake explanation and blame my weirdness on an iffy stomach. Eric’s never been the type to pry, so he just accepts it at face value, shrugging and turning his attention back to his family. Scotty, of course, just smiles to himself. Eventually, once dinner is over and we’ve had all the conversations we could have, we all say our goodbyes. Scotty’s family members give him extra long hugs, eager to have him home for the holidays. “You’re such a brat,” I say as soon as we’re out of earshot, pushing him. For a moment, he looks genuinely confused. “Why?” “All that touching under the table,” I murmur, glancing back at Eric and the girls to make sure they haven’t followed us for some reason. Now, Scotty laughs. “It’s so fun getting you riled up,” he says, nudging me with my hip. He grins when he sees that I’m clearly trying (and failing) to be mad at him. “Did you get hard?” “Obviously,” I murmur. Somehow, giving a guy a boner is the biggest compliment for Scotty, and he looks rather pleased with himself as we get into the car. Then, just as I get my seatbelt on, Scotty speaks up. “I wanna make you cum for my birthday.” I pause before I can even turn the ignition. “What?” “You heard me,” he says slyly. “Why do you want that?” I ask. “You know how much I like sucking dick,” he says as if it’s obvious. Then, he bites his lip and reaches over to my lap. I quickly slap his hand. “What are you doing?” “C’mon,” he asks. “It’ll be fun.” “Right here?” I ask, glancing around. It isn’t exactly a busy parking lot, but it certainly isn’t private. “I’m feeling adventurous,” he says. Then, before I know it, Scotty’s hand is pressing into my bulge — and I moan. As soon as his hand is on me, my voice of reason is diminished to a barely audible whisper. I’m a man. What can I say, especially after all that teasing during dinner? As I stiffen up, Scotty undoes the button of my jeans and unzips my fly before letting his hand slide in to grab me through my boxers. I unbuckle my seatbelt and slouch in my seat, sighing as he fishes my manhood out. I swallow thickly, checking all my mirrors and windows. It doesn’t seem like anyone is around. Maybe if we make this quick… As always, I find it difficult to focus when Scotty’s lips first wrap around my cock. No matter how many times he does it, it still shocks me, still makes my head spin a bit. I place a hand on the back of his head, groaning softly but reminding myself to keep a look out. Nervously, I peer out all the windows and check all the mirrors repeatedly, worried someone (or people in particular) will show up and see what this beautiful boy is doing to me. But God, it feels so good. I glance down to watch Scotty move up and down, the faintest smile on his lips. He once told me that sucking dick is his “happy place,” and although I laughed at him for saying so, it’s evident in the way he moves. Something about it soothes him. I comb my fingers through his hair, keeping loose strands away from his face, and when I do, he looks up at me and smiles with his eyes, those baby blues twinkling up at me. I can’t help but smile back slightly as he nurses on the head. “Don’t take too long,” I warn. “I’m not trying to get in trouble.” He pulls off with a hum. “That depends on you,” he teases, sticking out his tongue and lapping at my cock like an ice cream cone. “Shut up and work,” I murmur, pulling him back down on me, and he giggles as he resumes the blowjob. Thankfully, he picks up the pace a bit, stroking me in time with his movements, humming as he goes. I tighten my grip on his hair, letting my head hang back against the headrest and indulging myself a minute of enjoyment. I just focus solely on Scotty: on his soft lips, on his eager tongue, on his adorable moans, on his knowing grip. I focus on the fact that all he wants to do for his birthday is suck me off. I focus on the fact that he’s so hungry that he wanted to do it in public. It’s starting to get humid in the car. I slouch deeper into my seat, my heart racing a little more as I get warmer and warmer. Then, to take things up a notch, he moves his lips to my balls. Still stroking me, he takes one ball into his mouth, sucking tenderly. “Oh fuck,” I grunt, spreading my legs as widely as I can. Scotty now guides both into his mouth simultaneously, tugging with his lips and rolling them with his tongue, making my eyes flutter. His steady stroke on my cock would have kept me at idle, but Scotty doesn’t often go for the jewels, so this is a surprise treat. It gets me so fired up that I’m close within seconds. “Shit!” I grunt. “Scotty!” Before we know it, my cock surges and spurts out the first thick rope of cum, and I don’t have time to pull my shirt up. Luckily, Scotty saves further mess by quickly transferring his mouth to the head of my cock, taking down the remainder of my load. I groan with satisfaction, applying some pressure to the back of his head when I feel him swallowing. Fuck, I needed that. All of tonight’s tension just went right down Scotty’s throat. Once I finish, Scotty slowly pulls up. He doesn’t pull off immediately. He spends a minute just suckling and making sure he got every drop before he finally pulls off, smiling, clearly happy. “Thanks,” he says. I snort. “I should be thanking *you*,” I mutter. However, I groan when I look at my shirt. There’s a thick rope of cum on it. “Damn it.” “Here,” Scotty says, taking the hem of my shirt, leaning down, and swiping it up with his tongue. I arch my brow as I watch him in a fascinated way. Scotty really does never miss a drop. He laps at it a few times to make sure he got it all, checking in between licks before sitting up and nodding. “There. All clean.” I just stare at him, partly amused. “You’re somethin’, you know that?” I say. Scotty just laughs. The whole way home, we sit in relative silence. The radio plays softly while Scotty, who claimed swallowing my load made him sleepy (“like when you eat a large meal”), rests his eyes. I don’t mind it. It gives me a little bit of time to think about tonight, about us. Part of me wishes I had pulled Eliza aside and asked her for advice about Scotty, but I quickly nip that regret in the bud. Her brother is her best friend. I can’t expect to say anything to her in confidence. God, I wish I had someone to talk to about this, someone rational like Eric but empathetic like Yasmine, someone who can ease me towards the voice of reason — whatever that voice has to say. When we get home, Scotty wants to treat himself to a bubble bath, so I let him head to the bathroom while I meander into my bedroom. I take my time changing into night clothes and doing a few stretches. Eventually, something catches my eye. On my nightstand is the drawing I made of and for Scotty. I pick it up and stare at it for a while, analyzing the tender strokes of my pencil, the attention to detail, the soft encapsulation of his personality. Honestly? It’s some of my best work. I’m thankful for having such an excellent muse. As I trace Scotty’s lines with my thumb, I go back and forth between giving him his gift and keeping it to myself. Will he see it too much as a romantic gesture? Is that even my intention? What if he just plain old hates it? One thing I love about Scotty is that he’s an honest critic. He never gives any of my art a positive comment unless he truly means it. But this is his birthday gift. Do I want to risk it? Screw it. I’ll give it to him. Taking a breath, I bring the small drawing to the bathroom and knock on the slightly ajar door. “Scotty?” “Yeah?” his voice says, water lightly splashing around. “Can I come in?” “Sure!” I push the door open to reveal Scotty lounging in what looks like a cloud of bubbles. I laugh lightly, seeing he went a little overboard with the suds, but it’s his birthday. Might as well go all out. “Comfortable?” “Very,” he says with a happy smile. “What’s up?” “I, uh…” I clear my throat before offering the drawing. “Happy birthday.” Scotty blinks. “You got me something?” “Sort of,” I murmur. “I told you not to!” he says, but he’s smiling and sitting up. “Too bad,” I say, and once he wipes his hands dry with a nearby towel, I hand over the drawing. He takes it carefully before his eyes scan the piece. I watch as his eyes transform from enjoyment to surprise. “Is this… me?” he asks upon recognition. “Yeah,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my head. “Wow,” he whispers, doing the same motion with his thumb as I did. A soft smile forms on his face as his eyes rake in the details before he finally looks up at me. “I love it,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice instantly calms me. “That’s a relief,” I say with a laugh. “Let’s go out tomorrow and get a frame for it. I wanna put it by my bed,” he says warmly. “Thanks, Uncle Ant.” “You’re welcome, kiddo,” I say. Feeling victorious, I get ready to leave him to his bath. However, just as I’m about to turn away, he stops me. “Join me!” I glance at him with amusement. “Seriously?” “Yeah,” he says, grinning. He carefully sets the photo away from the tub. “C’mon, big guy.” “There’s no way we’ll both fit in there,” I inform him, but he just shrugs. “I’ll sit in your lap,” he says before gesturing. “Come on!” I sigh but relent, figuring a cuddle in a warm bath sounds pretty damn relaxing. Trying not to grin, I strip down and slowly slip into the bath. He leaves room for me to squeeze in, but as soon as I’m comfortable, he slides back between my legs. I grunt as he lies against my chest, letting him get situated between my legs. It’s a tight fit, but we’re making it work. I wrap an arm around him to keep him close. The way our bodies fit together never ceases to amaze me, and I relax with my boy in my arms, satiated and at peace.
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