Free Quillon's Covert by Joseph Lance Tonlet, Louis Stevens Page A

conversation and ran a sleepy hand down Marty’s back. “Um, yeah, that part was kinda hard to miss. And you have the nerve to complain about Tony being into really weird stuff . And we’re so not talking about this. Shut-up, Bobcat. Go to sleep.”
    Marty’s fingers softly skimmed through the hair on Martin’s chest, and he felt his son’s growing erection thickening next to his thigh.
    “And don’t be grinding against me all night either, Horndog,” Martin warned with a snort.
    Marty laughed and the warm breath across Martin’s chest relaxed him even further. “It’s not my fault that you’re so damn hunky just lying next to you gives me a bone.”
    Martin ran a hand through his son’s still shower-damp curls. “If that were the only time you popped wood, I might believe you. I’ll be so damn glad when your hormones even out. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep this whole trip. But, at this point, I’m beginning to think that may not happen until your early thirties.”
    Marty’s lack of response and easy breathing led him to think his son had fallen asleep. Several long moments passed when Marty quietly asked, “Dad? Do you think we’ll still cuddle like this when I’m in my thirties?”
    Martin pushed his nose into his son’s hair. “I sure hope so. Now, Go. To. Sleep.”
     

     
    Martin woke, yet again, to his son’s incessant grinding. It was the third time since they’d lain down that he’d been jarred out of sleep by the jabbing of a hard cock into his thigh.
    Leaning in, Martin kissed the top of Marty’s head and tried to extricate himself from the boy’s firm hold. Grinning, he thought if Marty were still a boy , he’d have no reason to try to move him, nor would he be struggling to pry the man’s entrapping arm from his body.
    Realizing defeat, he shook his sleeping son’s shoulder. “Marty? Marty, wake up.”
    “Uuuhhh?”
    Marty’s sleepy response was no more out of his mouth before the soft snoring and grinding resumed.
    Martin chuckled at the absurdity of it. “Marty,” he said more firmly. “You’re grinding again.”
    “Dad,” Marty husked in sleepy irritation. Not lifting his head from Martin’s chest, his grip cemented even further around Martin’s torso. “Goddammit…suh-suh-stop…waking me…up. Gooo to sleeeep…”
    Quite obviously Marty was still asleep, otherwise he would’ve never spoke to his dad that way. Beyond anything he could control, Martin barked out a laugh.
    Marty, only slightly more awake, brought a hand up to rub his eye, then curled it around Martin’s stomach, and laid his head back down. “Dad? What’s going on?”
    Martin smiled up at the ceiling. “Your cock is hurting me, that’s what. And I have to pee.”
    “Oh. Go back to sl….”
    And, just like that, Marty was nearly out again. Yet the grinding resumed, and before Martin realized exactly what the movement of his son’s hand meant, Marty had clasped Martin’s dick, stroked it fully and seemed to fall completely back to sleep while holding it.
    Both Martin’s mind and heart raced. He lay there, stock-still. When Marty’s fingers tightened slightly, Martin’s cock bobbed and twitched involuntarily. What the fuck? Why hadn’t he tossed Marty’s ass onto the floor yet? Or, at the very least, woken his son up? Why was he still lying there with his son’s hand wrapped around his dick and doing nothing about it?
    His throat popped loudly as he swallowed, trying to get some moisture into it, when Marty’s hand tentatively slid up his shaft and back down again. On the second down stroke, Martin covered his son’s hand with his own and stilled them both.
    There was no question Marty was awake.
    “Son. This can’t happen,” Martin whispered firmly.
    Marty gently forced his hand down and back up his dad’s length. “Buh-buh-but what if I wuh-wuh-want it to?” he asked just as quietly.
    “Okay, for one thing…” Martin started, but then had to swallow again as