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The first time, Peter thinks it’s an accident. Daddy steps up behind him while he’s doing the dishes, pressing up against Peter’s back as he reaches to put the oven mitt up on its hanger, but then he lingers. The warmth of him soaks through Peter’s shirt before Daddy lays a kiss on the top of his head and steps away.
The second time, Daddy’s hands go to rest at his hips as he leans over and Peter finds an odd sort of excited anticipation curling in his belly. He doesn’t know for what, but it gets worse as Daddy rests his head against Peter’s shoulder and quietly asks him about his homeschool work, his breath brushing against Peter’s ear with every word. It sends tiny shivers down his spine and he hopes Daddy doesn’t notice. This can’t be normal, the way he’s reacting, and he doesn’t even understand it himself.
The third time, there’s no mistaking it at all.
Daddy presses more firmly this time, enough that Peter can feel his hips solidly against his own, and when Daddy’s hands slide forward from his hips, Peter doesn’t stop him. Not even when one of those questing hands slips under the edge of his shirt and starts inching up his belly. His muscles flutter and his heart kicks up a beat, only to go faster when Daddy’s lip press to the edge of his jaw.
“How was your reading?” Daddy asks, lips brushing against Peter’s skin before kissing further right below his ear. His nose bumps the rim of his ear and Peter shivers hard. He’s seen Daddy do this with Mommy before but never him.
“Good,” Peter manages to get out and his voice sounds thready and weak. Daddy leans further forward until Peter is solidly caught between him and the sink on top of his stool. With a shock, Peter realizes he’s half hard and the firm pressure against his nethers is doing nothing to fix that. He tries to tell Daddy that he needs to go so he won’t find out, but the words get stuck in his throat. The stool rocks under his feet as Daddy’s hips roll against his own.
“Did you finish the math portion already?” Daddy’s hand moved further up until his thumb brushes one of Peter’s nipples. It’s enough to shock a soft huff of surprise out of him and Daddy takes it as ample reason to pinch and roll the hardening nub between his fingers. Peter had never imagined he’d feel little flashes of pleasure with a touch like this, nor that it would go straight between his legs.
It isn’t the only thing to. Daddy’s other hand had been petting lightly over his belly but now it dips down under his waistband. Peter had just gotten out of the shower before dinner and didn’t bother pulling underwear on before his sweats. He’d wanted to get some food into him as soon as possible! Now, though, it means that Daddy’s soft fingers slide against bare flesh and quickly curl around Peter’s hardening tool. He groans and then bites his bottom lip hard to keep the sound inside.
“Don’t,” Daddy says in a lower voice, teeth scraping over the lobe of Peter’s ear. “I want to hear you sing for me.”
The first stroke is firm and slow, and Peter moans out as he rocks into it as well as he can with Daddy still pressed tight to him. A hardening shape starts poking against his bottom and Peter rubs back to it, gratified when that wins him a shudder in Daddy’s breathing. When Daddy drags himself out and shoves Peter’s pants down his hips, the hot shape of him is obvious.
“Why?” Peter asks even as Daddy rocks into him, starting a solid rhythm that matches the hand on Peter’s willy. His thick tool slides between Peter’s plentiful cheeks again and again, spreading sticky heat across his bared skin every time the wet head brushes against it.
“Because I want you, son,” Daddy says, kissing along his neck down to his shoulder. “I love you this much.”
Whether he should be allowing this or not Peter doesn’t know, but right now he doesn’t care. He finds himself rocking into Daddy’s big hand as Daddy ruts against his backside, wanting more but unsure of what that would even entail. A flick of Daddy’s wrist, a brush just right over the weeping end of his willy, and Peter comes harder than he’d imagined. Daddy strokes him until he’s almost sobbing from overstimulation, the slick slide of his own cum making it so much better than ever before, and then Daddy’s hands go tight on Peter’s hips as his rutting becomes faster, harder, a charged thing of desperation. Peter tries to rub into him as much as possible but Daddy’s strength overwhelms him.
The end is abrupt, Daddy’s hands clenching tight as he shoves Peter so hard into the sink that he almost wonders if he’ll fall right through it. A damp warmth streaks up Peter’s back and he knows what just happened. The sheer thrill of it makes his willy twitch with interest. It feels like a mark, like a brand. Like Daddy proving just who Peter belongs to.
“Next time,” Daddy says like a promise, turning Peter’s head so that he can press the gentlest of kisses to his bite reddened lips, “I’ll unload it inside you.”
Peter isn’t sure exactly what he means but he can’t wait.