Chapter 6 - part 1
Late afternoon, humidity rising. Exercised enough, Sike lay on his bed, idly thumbing through one of his bike mags, enjoying the familiar bitter-sweet escapism. He was speeding in his mind, eyes fixed on the road ahead. One day he'd be out there riding again. One day. He could just picture taking the lad out for a spin somewhere in the hills. Wild desolate country, just the two of em, no-one else for miles around. Yeahhh. Good times. He grinned, something almost resembling happiness flickering into his head. One day... He paused for a moment, stock still but for a few deep slow breaths, then quickly turned the page and glared at the words with forced concentration. Don't start gettin fuckin sentimental. Won't do you any fuckin good in here.
The lad was late back. Very late. Strange. He downed a half empty glass of water and shoved the magazine away with the rest. Lay flat in the dull heat of the cell.
About twenty minutes later, there came the sound of the door. His boy slouched in, looking paler than usual, shoulders hunched. None of the normal post-match nonchalance.
'Where the fuck have you been?' The man glared, angry at everything and everyone, but most of all himself for caring more than he should.
'Don't wanna talk about it.' Jack sullenly sat on his bed and kicked off his trainers, deliberately not looking over. He brought his legs up on to the bed and hugged his knees, back to the wall, staring into space.
Sike considered the refusal, tapping at his unshaven chin with a meaty finger. He wouldn't shout at him. Yet. Something had happened and he needed to know who was responsible. He stood up and went over, sat on the lad's bed, voice low and quietly insistent. He noted the red marks on the lad's wrists. Knew what that meant.
'That's not good enough, son... You know it isn't.' Still the blank fixed stare to the opposite wall. 'You gotta tell me stuff, yeah? That's the deal. I'm gonna look after yer, remember?'
A long pause. Jack eventually nodded in weary acknowledgement.
'So tell me.'
All the long trudge back to the cell, Jack had been determined to remain emotionless, even though his head was still spinning. He'd persuaded Harry to give him a few minutes time out to clean up along the way (free of those fuckin cuffs finally) and staring into the small scratched mirror near the sinks he'd found himself wondering just who it was staring back at him. Cold water had helped his resolve, but walking back in to face his dad he realised he just didn't have the strength to fake it. Now he was close to tears, but no way was he gonna fuckin cry in front of the big guy. Be strong, Jack. Be a fuckin man. He angrily wiped his face with the back of his hand. Best not tell him everything, Jack. He'll go mental.
'One of the screws don't fuckin like me much. Decided to give me a grillin after the footie. Down in the basement somewhere.'
'Who?' The man suspected immediately though... Have I gotta teach yer another fuckin lesson, mate? Wasn't the first warning enough?
'Ummm... Think his name's Phil. Right chunky geezer. Looks like a bouncer. Acts like one... Arrogant cunt.'
Sike gave a derisive snort.
'Yeah, I know him. Fuckin bender. Not as tough as he likes to make out. Anyone else there?' There ought to have been, thought the man, otherwise he wasn't doin it by the book.
'Some younger bloke. Don't remember his name. Didn't do or say much, just wrote shit down. It's Phil who's the fuckin problem.'
'Kept askin questions about you, but I wasn't tellin him anythin he wanted to hear. He hit me round the 'ead quite a bit. Had me hands cuffed behind so not much I could do bout it. Pushed me off the fuckin chair in the end. Fuckin arm still hurts.' Another determined wipe of his eyes, remembering the fear and humiliation. 'I int no fuckin pushover, dad. Fuckin int.' Jack finally turned his head to stare at the man, his cute features set in stone, the grey-blue eyes two pools of hurt. 'I haven't let you down, have I?'
Sike was breathing deeply, sparks of revenge filling in his head. He had a sudden fierce urge to hug the lad. He pushed himself more fully on to the bed so that he was sat right next to him. Threw a lazy muscled arm round the young man's shoulders.
'You're fine kiddo. You're fine.' He rubbed the lad's short hair affectionately. 'Listen. I'll deal with him. Might take me a little while to sort it, cause of who he is, but I promise yer, I will.'
The lad looked at him, jaw ground tight. He really wanted to believe it, and yet... What could his dad do about a fuckin screw? A sudden replay of the harsh degradation he was keeping secret made him shudder inside. A bitter pill with worse to come.
Sike felt his fury for the bent officer welling up from deep within. How dare he? How the fuck dare he? He should have known what was good for him and stayed well clear: the lad was his, and no-one else was gonna fuckin mess with him if Sike had anything to say about it. If Phil tried any of his queer shit on the lad he'd be a dead man walking... But still, dealing with a screw was always much harder than dealing with a fellow con. Gonna need some careful plannin. Might even need another favour from the guvnor. Tricky. Didn't want to overplay his hand there. He squeezed the lad's shoulder reassuringly; Jack grimaced and made a painful noise as the bruise was caught.
'Take yer top off, let's have a look at that.' Jack stood up and did as he was told, feeling a dull pain as he lifted his right arm. Sike got to his feet to inspect the damage. The area just below the shoulder was colouring up, the bruise spreading. He pressed carefully around it, feeling into the shoulder, working his way around the affected area. The lad grit his teeth.
'Any shootin pain in the bone?' A shake of the head. 'That's good. You tell me if you feel any. We'll go easy on yer upper body trainin for a few days, do some other stuff.' The man went over to his bed and rummaged around underneath, coming back with a small bottle of painkillers. 'Here. Take some of these now, and more later.' He rubbed the lad's head again momentarily and stared down hard at him. 'You'll be OK.'
'Thanks.' Jack felt a whole lot better already. After what had happened that morning, he really hadn't expected the scary fucker to give him any care and attention at all. He got himself a cup of water and dosed himself up, eyeing the tall muscleman reclining back on his bed again.
Sike nodded at the lad's bed. 'Rest.' It wasn't a suggestion.
Jack was feeling mentally exhausted and gladly did as he was told, lying carefully on his uninjured side, body facing the grey wall, eyes closed, mind racing. Events and emotions of the rollercoaster day sped past in no logical order: Squaring up to his tough-nut dad in numb terror, cursing his stupidity... Being shoved off the chair on to the cold floor, head spinning, the roar of his ugly captor... The bull mounting the young matador... Scoring a goal under the darkening sky, the approval of his team echoing around the courtyard... The fit young officer's wedding ring there on his steady hand as it gripped the long cut prick, Jack watching it take aim in disbelief... Resistance gone... The insidious threat of gangrape, no knowing when... Evil piss flooding over his tongue... Sitting at his dad's feet where he belonged, tonguing the juicy meat which had fed him so many times already, gazing up in relief and awe at the tower of muscle above... You like yer dad's big straight dick, don'tcha son?... Fuckin hell, yeah... And doin' what yer fuckin told... 'll be a good boy, dad, promise, just let me show yer... The strong arm around his shoulders, pulling him close... Serious action to come tonight... Instructions to be obeyed... The two of em locked up n horned up... Again, his dark twisted wank fantasy, reflected in the porn mag, the impossible becoming real... His dad boning that sexy bird on the double bed, iron shaft rhythmically working her hot, tight pussy, her moans of delight... So fuckin horny... Imagining what it's like... You want some o this son?... Yeahhh dad...
His rock hard dick throbbed painfully in his jeans, desire and guilt duelling for supremacy in his puzzled mind. He saw again the facefucked straight lad in the scratched mirror, familiar and yet unrecognisable; seriously screwed up now, intcha Jack? Where the fuck is your life goin? It's OK. I've got me dad back at last. Fuckin sweet. He's lookin after me, me him. Nothin queer bout it... Why didn't you tell him everything that happened today? Scared to... What if he finds out? He won't... You sure? What if he does?... He won't. His uncertain thoughts ever so slowly scattered into a fitful doze.
Sike sat up on his bed, watching his son from across the cell, working his fists into each other and feeling spiders of tension running through his arms. God he needed that fuck later... His violent frame of mind had not subsided, if anything, it had intensified; the aggressive mood he'd felt upon waking had been a mere forewarning. He felt like seriously beating someone to a pulp. One thing was certain: Phil was gonna learn the meaning of regret. But all in good time.
Some hours later, the long threatened storm finally approached for real, warning rumbles invading the prison building. Jack had struggled to play pool properly with his mate Rob because of his injury and was feeling a bit despondent about it. He'd not seen the nasty officer at the meal, thankfully, but Harry had been down there chatting to some other screw. He'd caught Jack's eye briefly and nodded once, unsmilingly. Jack hadn't responded and had looked away immediately as a vivid flashback filled his mind with unwanted images... The madness of him welcoming the violation he'd instigated... Feed me yer fuckin load mate... The tight grip of the married man's firm hands as he shot a torrent of tasty nutjuice straight down his defenceless victim's throat... Shiiiiiiiiit.
Wrong place, wrong time. Nothing more. Vacant stare into space, the clatter and chatter of the assembled crowd seemingly distant, until his mate nudged him.
'Oi. Dreamer. You eatin that?'
'Nah. Not hungry.'
'Right, don't mind if I do then...'
Another furtive glance in the officer's direction. Harry didn't see it.
Back in the cell, it got no better. His dad was being ultra gruff and uncommunicative as they played cards once again on the small table, tops off, the air stuffy, ominous intrusions from the dark sky outside. Jack racked his brains to think if he'd done something else wrong, but his mind drew a blank. They were once more on the hard stuff (not that the he'd been asked: an oversize measure had simply been thrust on the table in front of him) and fuckin hell did he need it today of all days. Some welcome escape from the oppressive fear slicing into his bones.
He forced a grin every now and again across the table when either of them won, trying to encourage some of the warmth he'd been shown earlier, or at least the undercurrent of sexy banter that often ensued other nights, but the big guy was being oblivious and distant. His mighty muscular frame seemed more menacing than usual in the heavy punctuated silence; hunched shoulders, furrowed brow, glint of something truly frightening in his dark eyes.
Flashes of lightning from the small window pierced the room with associated cracks of thunder, increasingly aligned as the storm approached. The light flickered. Jack felt the buzz of alcohol making his head swim more than usual; he hadn't had enough to eat to soak it up. Why the fuck was the big guy ignoring him all of a sudden? It was all too fuckin weird. He finally found the courage to say something, putting his cards face down on the table.
'Son.' Sike looked up from his cards, seeing again the bruise on his son's upper arm and mentally strangling the perpetrator.
Sike's glowering look spelled trouble, and he sounded irritated at the interruption, but Jack couldn't back down now.
'You've hardly said a fuckin word tonight. What have I fuckin done?'
Sike regarded his boy, the picture of youth on the edge of manhood. Old enough to fuck n fight; young enough to still be feeling things for the first time. Hurt, cute face staring at him imploringly... Needs his dad, don't he? You promised to look after him, dintcha? Sike's mind was a haze of vodka, pent-up aggression and suppressed emotion: the first two were familiar enough, the latter was fucking with his head bigtime. He hadn't felt anything about anyone for a long time. Not like this. And for the first time in a long time, there was a sliver of fear. Fear of things being out of his control.
' 'm thinkin.'
Jack paused. 'Thinkin what?' It was an innocent enough question.
The man continued to glare at him fiercely, swigged down his drink and slamming the cup down on the table. When he finally spoke, it sounded slow and deliberate, as if he was making a great effort to hold himself back. 'Thinkin you shouldn't ask fuckin questions when I can't give you any fuckin answers.'
The lad stared back, mute and fearful. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He had no idea how to respond. An extra brilliant flash appeared at the high barred window. He glanced up, on edge. A couple of seconds at most, then a sharp crack of thunder. Rain suddenly began to hammer down outside, a barrage of noise.
He returned his worried gaze to his dad, only to find the man grinning mockingly at him all of a sudden, like someone had flicked a switch.
Jack eyed him suspiciously. 'Course I int.'
The moment hung suspended as the cacophony of rain moved up a level. The two stared each other out, one wearing an almost malicious grin, one an adolescent scowl. Another bright flash and almost instantaneous whipcrack of thunder, the light flickering once more. Jack jumped slightly, glancing up again at the window, cursing himself for being unnerved. His dad was gonna rip the piss outta him. Sike laughed.
'I'll hold yer hand if it helps.'
'Fuck right off, I ain't fuckin afraid of a storm.'
'Yeah, right...' Sike was still grinning evilly, provoking Jack into defending himself. The lad finally relented, breaking out into a demented grin of his own. Alcohol and adrenaline pushed his inhibitions aside.
'I'll fuckin show you who's got the fear.'
He bounded up from the chair and shoved the man hard in the chest. Sike laughed again. Jack shoved again, harder still, so much so that Sike fell backward on the bed, but this only made the man laugh more.
'Come on then, you wanna have a fight about it? Yeah?' Jack bounced lightly on his feet like a boxer, ready for action, drunkenly aware that this was the almost exact reverse of what had happened this morning. Kinda funny. The alcohol blunted his senses, making him feel braver than normal. Sike was up on his elbows now, his angry mood temporarily vanquished. The kid wanted to play. Sweet.
Jack gestured at his dad to get up and face him. 'Come on, big guy, show us what you're made of.'
Sike, mightily amused, realised the parallel with the morning's events too. I'll show you what I'm fuckin made of, son. Just you wait. He got up slowly, placing his cards down as he did, and stood before Jack, casually rubbing his bristly chin with a meaty hand. 'Really?'
Another flash, another whipcrack and boom, the sound echoing through the building.
'Yeah, come on dad. Give it to me.' The lad's mood had jack-knifed from despondency to exhilaration. He'd got the reaction he'd been craving. Sike laughed again. Oh, I'll be fuckin givin it to yer alright. Don't you worry.
'Right then. You fuckin asked for it.' In one swift movement he lunged and grabbed the surprised boy at the waist, hoisting him high into the air and over his shoulder, the bulging muscled right arm holding the smooth body firmly in position. That'll teach yer.
'Oi. That's fuckin cheatin that is.' Pain partially anesthetized in the heat of the moment, the lad thumped hard at the top of his dad's tree-trunk legs with his good arm and tried to knee him at the same time, to no avail. The man's grip had him well secured.
'Sez who?' Sike was enjoying himself now, suppressed anger morphing seamlessly into horseplay. He paced around the cell a bit as Jack struggled in vain. 'S'not cheatin. I'm just bigger n stronger. Fact.'
'Fuckin put me down.'
A little taunting never did no harm, thought Sike. 'What's the magic word?'
Cheeky fucker. He whacked the lad's rear hard with his free hand. Flash. Boom.
Jack yelped in hurt surprise. 'Aghhh. What the fuck was that for?'
'You bein a mouthy cunt.'
'You will be.' Sike was still grinning broadly, not that Jack could see of course.
'Please? Please dad.'
Sike paused. 'OK' He carefully dropped the human load from shoulder to bed, the boy landing flat on his back with a fair thump.
'Ow.' Jack, face red from the blood rush, grimaced briefly at the inevitable pain in his arm, then laughed, adrenaline high. He could see his dad standing above him, tattooed arms folded, clearly in better spirits now. Result. 'Alright, you win.'
'Now there's a fuckin surprise.'
'Hey, you two, keep the noise down'. An unfamiliar voice at the door grill, to Jack at least.
Sike knew exactly who it was: one of his main men. No problem. He addressed the unseen officer. 'Kid's takin liberties... 'm just puttin im in his place. Not exactly quiet tonight tho, eh?' On cue, another flash and slightly delayed rumble, the rain continuing to bucket down outside. A vertical flood.
'Yeah, well, it's lights out in ten all the same.'
Sike looked back at the lad, lolling out on his dad's bed like he owned it, eyeing him cockily, good arm stretched back behind his head, a smooth skin line from elbow to hip, broken only by a small burst of dark armpit hair. You after somethin, son? Wanna sleep there, do yer?
'Come on, let's finish this fuckin game off shall we?' He gestured at the table, sat himself down in the chair and swapped the hands around on the table.
'Sure thing, dad.'
Jack sat up on his dad's bed, knocked back the rest of his cup. Sweet intoxication. Thunder reverberated in the heavy night air. It wasn't very long before Sike won once more, the run of luck firmly on his side for the night. The victor shoved the table to one side and reclined, hands behind head, legs spread wide, displaying his confident manliness for the lad to admire. Two can fuckin play that game, son.
'Not your lucky day is it.'
'I dunno... S'not over yet.'
Jack stared back at the topless tough guy, daring him into action, his eyes tracing out the menacing curve of the tattooed biceps. His reckless heart was pounding; butterflies shivering in his gut. Dark eyes glinted and locked on his, obvious sexual superiority trampling over his natural instincts. No escapin it, Jack. You know what's comin.
The man coolly assessed the lad's anticipation, sexy brutal thoughts playing tug of war with his self-control. The downpour hammered away at the roof outside. 'You remember what I said this morning?'
Only too well, thought the teenager. Fuck yeah. It was gonna happen all over again, just like he'd been promised. He wet his lips. Unable to fight the urge, his eyes dropped down the solid fuzzy tank of a torso to the man's scruffy jeans where the beast lay in wait for him. Your dad's a real fuckin hard-nut, Jack. You do what he says... The headfuck of the early morning came rushing back unbidden: the highwire between dream and nightmare, bull-dick domination, lust into violence into surrender. He swallowed nervously, before looking back up again. He nodded eagerly, more bravado than conviction.
Sike nodded back slowly and wordlessly, the sight of a straight lad eyeing his dad's crotch with trepidation giving him a nasty buzz. He loved being in such complete control. Perhaps a bit more mindfucking was in order... Yeahhh. He narrowed his eyes and felt the electricity of enforced lust crackle in the air between them even as the sky outside once more split with light and the thunderous soundwave followed. His meat twitched. Restless.
'You wanna feel yer daddy's big straight dick slidin up there again, don'tcha?' A dry swallow and a heartstopped nod from his son. 'Get fucked like some sexy bitch... Gonna make yer old man happy? Hmm?' Jack savoured the seductive effect of his dad's dirty talk, his young mind tormented by what he did and didn't want. Prison rules... Power rules... Gotta tell him how much you want it, Jack, remember? That was what you agreed to do. He said what he knew he must.
'Yeahhhh. Been waitin for it all fuckin week, dad...'
Sike nodded again, his predator gaze pinning the teenager firmly in place. 'I know.' His deep voice spoke the truth: he knew what Jack really needed.
'Five minutes, lights out.' Barked orders battled the din of the storm. Darkness approached.
The man stood up. 'Like last time. 15 minutes, yeah?'
Jack nodded up at him. 'Gotcha.'
He watched the man quickly sort the room out, enthralled by the assured muscularity of him, the animal vitality. All too fuckin real. He removed his trainers, socks and jeans, becoming aware that his dad was now sat across the cell, observing him. Jack had on some plain black briefs he'd changed into that afternoon after his nap; he'd felt dirty after taking the officers' abuse and these were all he had left that were clean. Preferred boxers as a rule, but laundry wasn't til early next week.
'Leave em on.'
Sike liked the dark sleekness of them, set against the lad's pale skin. They seemed to accentuate his youthfulness somehow. Jack nodded, watching the man hunker down to undo his chunky boots. He waited for instruction.
The shaven-headed hulk looked up at him again, expression deadly serious. The uncharacteristic burst of horseplay a short while back had given him a glimpse of something he couldn't totally deal with yet, and his mind had instinctively gone on the counter-attack, as with any threat. Easy, familiar aggression coursed through his veins, feeding his will to dominate. He jabbed a finger.
The young man, excited but fearful, did as he was told. He wanted to see his dad fully naked, but realised he was being made to wait for some reason. Don't ask questions, Jack. Do as yer told. He could feel the thud in his chest and the haze in his bloodstream as he stared at the blank grey ceiling. Thunder rumbled again, becoming more distant now; the torrential rain subsiding slightly to a less insistent roar.
In the sudden darkness that ensued, Jack pictured the scene as if stood observing from one side: the fierce imposing figure in the red light, chunky hands gripping his son's tense shoulders, hard shaft sliding in where it belonged, showing his lad how it was done, teaching him the nature of endurance. Twisted perfection. Young meat pulsed expectantly. He lightly stroked it through the fabric. A more distant flash lit everything for an instant. He could smell his dad's presence in the cage.
The man lay in the dark, thinking, angry with himself for feeling things he shouldn't. Get a fuckin grip, man... Nothin fuckin complicated bout it, is there? You're toughenin him up. Makin him like you. What he needs. What you need. Course you're gonna care about him, and so you fuckin should. What'd be the fuckin point if you didn't? You're not goin soft. No-one's as tough a fucker as you, everyone knows that. Phil's gonna fuckin regret messin with you again.
He thought about the porn, how he'd come to rely on it banged up in this place. Thought about how many years it had been since he'd last fucked a woman, the one who'd betrayed his trust... As always happened when he strayed anywhere near the topic, his mind saw red. They were all the same, deep down: lying, scheming bitches, always demanding stuff you couldn't give. No one was gonna tell him what he should and shouldn't do. Ever. The lad knew the score: knew how to do what he was told, knew how to let his strong dad dominate him good n proper, knew the way things oughta be... Knew how to work his old man's thick meat... The man grinned into the near darkness. Yeahhhh. Fucked up, for sure, but then so was life, full stop. Fuck what anyone else thinks. Make the best o what yer got, eh? He waited.
Time crawled, summer incarnate. Brief chaotic illuminations lit the cell, becoming less intense. Finally, Jack heard the quiet but definite command to get up. His eyes flicked open to see the expected red glow from across the cell gently filling the room. Just like before, the man had covered the small lamp on the table with something. He swung himself onto his feet in an instant. Reporting for duty, sir. He marched over.
Sike stood before his lad, fearsome arms folded, all muscle and shadow, eyes dark, hefty jaw set, bristled face inscrutable, down below his substantial tackle ready to be awakened. He eyed the youth with severe approval: the dark buzz cut hair, well-proportioned face, slightly cocky expression, eyes betraying his nerves, pure smooth skin down his torso, lean young muscles developing well, the narrow waist halved by a trail of dark hair leading down from his bellybutton, those dark tight briefs. Mmmmm. I'm gonna make a fuckin man of you, kiddo, but you're always gonna answer to ME...
Almost imperceptibly, he made a terse nod of his head and glance downward, an indication to Jack to get to the floor. The lad lowered himself down in a daze. Every time like the first time. The hunger to submit to his thug of a dad overpowering his natural inclinations, making what should be wrong into something impossibly right. He sat on the cell floor, one leg bent double underneath, the other bent in front of him, his forearm resting on it. Snaking meat dangled teasingly before him, heavy nutsack lurking behind, framed by dark fuzz and solid hairy legs. Fuck. This is what you need, Jack. What you need is what you want...
The man gazed down at his son, proud ego soaking up the lad's admiration. 'You wanted to know what I was thinkin earlier, dintcha?' The lad numbly nodded in reply, still transfixed by his fate. 'Right. Well, I was thinkin about how to get Phil off yer back without necessarily breaking every fuckin bone in his body. But... I was also thinkin about how you and me need to take this to the next level: this is a fuckin journey we're on, son. Think you deserve a dad like me? Hmmm?'
Racing heart. A shiver up the spine. 'I... Yeah... I think so.'
The thrum of rain.
'You do, do yer? OK. So what are you thinkin then? Right now. Answer me.'
Jack cast his eyes up over the aggressively intimidating figure. Another distant flash illuminated them both for a second. He felt small and vulnerable, the sheer size of the man seeming more deadly than usual in the unreal half-light, the cold stare drilling holes in him... The next level? What did that mean? What the fuck did he want to hear? Could he just tell the truth? Would that be enough? He could feel the accelerated thud from within. Thunder, everywhere. Unable to bear the pressure, he let his eyeline drop back down. The fat juicy snake was right there in front of him. So close.
'What am I thinkin?...' Find the fuckin words, Jack. Just tell it how it is. 'I'm thinkin... I shouldn't want this. I really shouldn't. But... Yer know what? I fuckin do.' He gave a sudden sharp exhale of breath and a half-smile of disbelief that he'd actually stated it so boldly. Say it again, Jack. 'I fuckin do. Even though I'm fuckin straight, I still fuckin do. You know I ain't no fuckin homo, dad...'
'Yeah, I know that son. Carry on.' Sike unfolded his crushing arms and let them hang by his sides, eyeing his lad with intrusive curiosity, arousal starting to unfold.
'What you gotta understand is... I ain't had no dad in my life for years. Not since I was small.' Jack had never admitted this to the man before. 'Always hoped he'd come back. Do stuff with me. Show me the ropes.' He stared in awe at his long-lost father's prick as it began to stir and grow. Yeah. Oh yeahhhh... Just look at that, Jack. Dad's gettin it ready for yer.
Sike felt a bullet of pure emotion pierce him as the lad's words sunk in. You fuckin what? He blinked and absent-mindedly clenched a fist. Blood surged. Fuckin unbelievable. That was too fuckin perfect for words. He breathed heavily in and out, nostrils flaring, suddenly moved to rub the lad's short dark hair in genuine surprise and affection.
'Is that right? Well... He's here now. Yer dad's here.'
Jack relaxed a little at the man's rough reassuring touch, and gently nodded, with another half-smile of sheer amazement. Yeah, he's here. That was the simple truth, right there. He stared in dreamy submission at his dad's manhood as it came to life in the red gloom, the dark shiny head emerging, the thick veiny shaft lifting toward him, inexorably swelling and lengthening to its glorious prime. Sexy threat and promise merged into one: straight motherfuckin bull-dick, under the tough guy's total command, inches away... He licked his lips, the intimidating close-up of rising male arousal sending a fearful thrill of taboo pleasure sliding up his spine. Gonna do yer duty, intcha Jack? Gonna do what he tells yer...
'Yeahhhh, fuckin get an eyeful o that. That's the real fuckin deal.' Jack hardly realised he'd spoken his thoughts aloud
The deep voice confirmed it for him. 'Yeah. It's the real fuckin deal, alright: it's yer dad's motherfuckin meat, son. Yer mouth was fuckin made for it.' An eager nod from below. 'Imagine how fuckin good it's gonna feel later... Gonna do yer like a real sexy bitch. You're gonna fuckin love it.'
'Yeahhh...' Jack's vivid imagination needed no prompting. The early morning vision of torture had him by the nuts again, the victorious bull ready to inflict it's size and power. Resistance futile. Penetration imminent.
'Bet you been thinkin bout it every day this week, huh? When's the old man gonna fuckin bone me again...' Sike was taking immense delight in his horny build-up and the sweet, dazed look of surrender on the young man's face.
Jack, inspired by his dad's proud display of strength and graphic promises, felt the emotional rollercoaster of the day coming to a weirdly beautiful high, soothing his troubled mind. He wanted to admit all his dark horny thoughts to his dad now.
'Fuck yeahhhh. Can't wait. Made for fuckin action, innit?' (Ain't that the fuckin truth, Jack...) 'Way I see it, dad, straight blokes with big dicks deserve to get em seen to, don't they?' He looked up briefly for agreement and Sike grunted deeply, seriously turned on now by the undeniable logic of everything his lad was saying and what they were doing. 'Only right n proper, yeah? And if there ain't no pussy around. Well... Any lad with a hard fuckin dad like you should know the score. Don't matter if he's fuckin straight. So fuckin what? Should just be fuckin grateful... Like I am.'
Sike nodded his slo-mo approval. Jack paused. Being made to articulate the raging conflict in his mind was strangely liberating, but at the same time he knew that once these words were out, they couldn't be unsaid. Reckless speeding into unknown territory. He looked up once more to the man's fierce features, the thick scarred neck, the hefty bristled jawline, the shaved head, the dark watchful eyes: his violent unpredictable dad... He could wipe you out in a fuckin instant, Jack.
'And I'm gonna keep doin it for yer, dad. Every day, just like you said. That's a fuckin promise.'
Again, the man roughly rubbed the lad's short hair as the teenager's passionate gaze locked with his; a wild animal tamed. Their pact was now stronger than ever, Sike felt sure. Look at him... Smooth cute face silently urging his father to show him some true authority, to pack his gob full. Yeahhhhhhh... That was what this was all about. Sexy, aggressive control. We're hittin the road to pure fuckin heaven, lad. I'm gonna make you want it so bad...