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

Marty forced another stroke. As if it were something physical, he had to overpower the completely insane desire to thrust into his son’s grip. “…this sorta thing isn’t only about what one person wants. And I know I don’t have to explain that concept to you.” Regaining a bit of his composure, he continued. “For another, I’m…your dad. I’m also firmly in the heterosexual camp. Then there’s the fact that you’re still a minor, and—”
    “I’m only a minor in some states,” Marty said firmly.
    “Marty, I will not argue about why you need to take your hand off my cock.”
    His son’s hand slid down Martin’s shaft again, and within seconds Martin had flipped them both. He held Marty’s hands above his head and pinned the younger man down with his much heavier body. Instantly he realized his mistake as he caught his son’s moonlit eyes and recognized the unmistakable desire that filled them. The look took him aback; no one—not even Allie, his wife and soul mate—had ever looked at him that way.
    Marty jutted his hips up, rubbing their hard cocks against one another, and whimpered. “Puh-puh-please. I…want this, Dad. I want you .”
    The desperate, earnest plea—combined with over a year devoid of Marty’s touch—shot foreign feelings, confusing feelings, strange feelings through Martin’s entire being.
    “Stop,” he said firmly as his head swam. He wasn’t unkind, but he knew he had to put an end to this before it got out of hand, before things were said or done that neither of them could undo or unsay.
    Marty wrapped his legs around Martin’s waist, locked his ankles at the small of his back, and pulled their pelvises together. He stilled, but his heated gaze didn’t waver. “Be hon-nuh-nest with muh-muh-me? You wuh-wuh-ant this tuh-tuh-too, right? I cuh-cuh-can feel you a-a-against me.”
    Should he lie? If the man beneath him were anyone other than his son, would he be putting a stop to it? He may have never thought of another man in a sexual way—hadn’t looked at his son that way, until this very moment—yet here he was, more than a little aroused by the male body he held pinned down and the hard cock rubbing alongside his. And this was Marty. His Marty.
    Marty rolled his hips and Martin innately ground his cock into his son’s.
    “Daaad,” Marty hissed.
    Right there, that single hissed word was the absolute killer—Marty was his son . And Martin was married. And, perhaps most importantly, at least at this very moment, Marty was only seventeen.
    He made a decision he hoped would stop whatever was happening, and also one he hoped he wouldn’t regret.
    “Listen to me very carefully, okay?” He paused, waiting for a response. He had to know Marty was hearing his words.
    When his son nodded, he continued. “No, you’re not…entirely wrong…” When Marty opened his mouth to speak, Martin hurried on. “But this will not happen, Martin Junior. It will not. Not…now. If you feel the same way next year, we’ll… We might talk about it.”
    He started to release his hold on Marty’s wrists, started to lift his body from his son’s, but the sight of Marty’s parted lips stilled him. The pause seemed all the encouragement Marty needed. In a heartbeat, Marty strained forward and brushed his lips against Martin’s. When Martin didn’t immediately break the contact, Marty pressed their lips more firmly together. Martin allowed the kiss to linger for a few moments before finally pulling away.
    He left Marty lying lengthwise on the mattress, while he pushed his back up against the wall crosswise. What the fuck just happened ‽ He bent his knees, rested his elbows on them, and then took a deep breath trying to calm his shaking hands.
    The cabin had cooled off and the air conditioner’s chilly breeze blew across both of them. Goose bumps formed on Marty’s torso as deep breaths were drawn in by each of them. Marty’s—filled with excitement—contrasting against