His little complication 18+ ddlb

Chapter 15

LUKE

As I marveled at the sight of a gorgeous man sprawled on the bed, wearing nothing but a diaper, sucking on his thumb smiling and looking at me with much anticipation of affectionate moments ahead, I couldn't help but think about how much I missed this.

I missed him being a baby.

I missed me being a daddy.

His daddy. One who was responsible for him. One who was tasked to fulfill his needs. One who was entrusted to protect him. One who had the power to instill discipline upon his every act.

I knew this wouldn't last.

I knew that after tonight, I wouldn't be able to see him again.

But tomorrow...

Tomorrow can wait...

I wanted to have this evening... to indulge myself in the love that we could share... even though I knew that it would have to abruptly end.

“Play?” he gleefully invited while pumping his legs in the air.

With a smile, I nodded. I lied beside him and grabbed his hand, pulling his thumb away from his mouth. He tried to resist, jerking his arm away in an attempt to bring his finger back to his lips. I tightened my grip, letting him know that I wouldn't tolerate any opposition.

“But I wanna suck,” he complained with a frown.

“You don't suck on your thumb,” I informed him. “You're too old for that.”

“No, I'm not!” he countered.

“You're not?” I played along. “Why? You're still a baby?”

“No!” he refuted. “I'm a little kid!”

“Little kids don't suck on their thumbs.”

“Na-ah! They do! They do!” He was being adamant.

“Little kids know what's right and wrong,” I said. “And sucking on your thumb isn't hygienic. It's wrong. And if you don't know that, then you're still a baby.”

He scrunched his nose as his brows wrinkled. “Hai-gee-nek? Wus' that?” he asked rather innocently. It was adorable.

“It means clean.”

“But I'm clean!”

“Are you now? When was the last time you washed your hands?”

He paused as he thought about an answer. “Uhm... uhm...” He couldn't give me an immediate reply. “Yesterday?” he finally said, unsure of his response.

“Then you were clean yesterday,” I told him. “But you're not clean today. So no thumb sucking for you.”

“Hmph!” he grunted. “You're mean!”

“Well, that's what daddies are supposed to be, I guess,” I remarked. “We're supposed to be mean so that our little boys won't do things that'll make them sick.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he dismissed the subject. “Let's play!”

“What do you want to play with?” I asked.

“Uhm... uhm...” Again, he took some time to think about his answer. “H'bout tag?”

I looked around his apartment. It was a small, studio-type room, about fifty square meters in size, with no walls dividing its sectors. It was just a little bit bigger than the motel room that we shared a few nights ago. It wasn't a conducive place for the game he had in mind. “I don't think we can play tag here,” I told him.

That made him sad.

“But I know something else we can play,” I tried to cheer him up.

His eyes widened with excitement. “What? What?” he excitedly asked.

“It's called... uhm...” I didn't really have a name for it so I tried to invent an appropriate title for the same. “It's called Pearl Harbor,” I eventually blurted, initially proud at what I've come up with. Later, of course, I'd realize how politically incorrect that label really was.

“Wus' that?” he wondered.

“It's simple, really,” I said as I raised my closed hand with only the index finger protruding from my fist. “This right here? It's an airplane.”

“An... airplane?”

“Yep. And it's flying,” I continued as my finger swayed from side to side like a jet traversing the air. “And it's looking for a target. Oops. It's found one! And it's coming in for a dive!”

Quickly, my finger descended towards the side of his neck. That caught him by surprise. He tried to squeeze it by trapping my hand between his cheek and his shoulder but it was too late. My digit was deep in his personal space, burrowing into his skin, tickling him like there was no tomorrow. He laughed uncontrollably, wiggling his body away from me. But I continued to lunge towards him, burying my finger even further.

“No!” he screamed as he continued to cackle.

“No?” I questioned as my finger proceeded to tunnel.

“Dad! Stop!” he begged.

I didn't listen.

“No more airplanes!” he pleaded.

“Okay,” I agreed, making a sound that resembled the engine of the jet. I retracted my hand from his neck, swinging it above his head. He followed its motion with his eyes, fearing that it would once again make a descent.

And it did.

This time, straight to the side of his ribs.

And again he laughed, curling his body into a ball in another futile attempt to escape my attack.

I dug and dug and dug.

And he roared in delighted agony.

We played that game for a while, until our bodies became weary. Chortling and huffing and puffing, we lied in bed, side by side, relishing the fun we just shared.

Then his hand crawled towards my hand, his fingers slithering into the crevice between my fingers.

He didn't have to say a word... not as an adult nor as the young boy he was at that time.

He knew. I knew. It was a special moment... one of satisfying peace and absolute happiness... something that he and I have never experienced before.

Slowly, his body turned towards me, and mine turned towards him. We were looking straight into each other's eyes, so intently like we were trying to reach the deepest recesses of our souls.

Then we kissed, a continuation of that which we shared earlier.

We kissed and kissed, unmindful of the world, our hands scavenging for every inch of each other's bodies that we could find, our tongues violently entangling as if they're desperate to be joined as one.

Our hands explored each other's flesh, eventually settling on the parts that made us men. He stroked mine as I stroked his with a singular pace that didn't take time to find a singular rhythm... gentle and slow, escalating to rough and ardent.

As I held his long, hard c**k in my hand, I wondered about what would happen next. This experience was new to me. It was something that I never even thought about before. I didn't know, exactly, how to proceed. Should I suck his d**k? Should he suck mine? Should I enter his anus? Should I offer mine to him?

These questions made me anxious.

In the end, however, I realized that my anxiety only made the moment even more amazing.

He led my body, guiding me to what I didn't even know I actually wanted... and needed...

He turned around, positioning his bare ass in front of my c**k, spreading his legs vertically to provide the opening that was necessary.

He gave me a quick look as he caressed my cheek. He didn't say a word, but I knew what he wanted to convey: that I was the daddy, that I should take control.

And that's what I did.

I grabbed his hips and entered him.

He moaned upon the initial penetration. I paused as I thought about asking him if he was alright, but he squeezed my arm as if he was pleading for me to continue...

As if he was pleading for me to give him more...

Harder...

Faster...

And I did.

As I f****d him from behind, his moans escalated into wails. As I began to get lost in the ecstasy, he started to scream to signify that he, too, was experiencing just as much pleasure. He held my hand and placed it on his c**k, beckoning for me to rub it. I did and he moaned even louder.

I was moaning as well.

A cornucopia of blissful screams...

Two bodies entwined and moving as one...

Two c***s drowning in rapture, heading straight towards an explosive climax...

And we came...

Not simultaneously as what would've been ideal...

I succumbed first and he followed suit a few seconds later...

I hugged him as our bodies slowed down to an exhausted but gratified stop. His hand reached backwards to rub my hair.

“Beer?” he asked, weakly.

“Nah, I'm good,” I answered.

“Wanna light up a cig?”

“I'd rather keep this position,” I said as I tightened my embrace.

He sniggered. “I ain't big on post-coital pillow talks, but for you, I can make an exception.”

“We don't have to talk,” I assured him. “I just... want to hold you... like this... for as long as I can.”

“Geez, Luke. You sound like this is the last night on earth,” he remarked in jest. “What? Will the world end tomorrow?”

For the rest of humanity, it won't.

But for me... it probably will.

And if this would be the last time I could ever spend with him, I wanted it to last as long as I could. I wanted to remember everything. The feel of his skin, the scent of his sweat, the shape of his body, the softness of his lips...

Everything...

For I knew...

I knew that in the years that would follow, memories of Jack would be the only thoughts that would make me want to go on.