Quillon's Covert (19 page)

Martin felt the point of no return speed by with nerve-tingling urgency. He pulled out of his son’s slick warmth, laid his cock alongside of Marty’s, and grabbed both in his large hand.

“Dad,” Marty gasped through gritted teeth and tightly clenched eyes, “so close.”

Marty’s hard cock slid along his. “Open your eyes…look at our dicks.”

Martin held them firmly together, working his slippery palm along both. Every time he pulled back, the head of his cock peeked through his foreskin. Marty’s, with its crazy long skin, never even got close to being unsheathed. He never dreamed there’d be a day when such a sight would turn him on as much as it did.

“Yeah, Dad…so close!”

He gripped them tighter, knowing his son liked it as firm as he did, and stroked while Marty watched his hand work them both.

“God,” Marty panted, and his fingers tightened around the tree swing’s seat. “It really does look fucking hot, doesn’t it? You close? ’Cause I’m…”

Martin stiffened when thick ropes of cum shot from Marty’s dick. Seeing his son in such enormous pleasure, his fit, masculine body jerking in release was more than he could take. He nearly howled and followed right behind.

As always, he kept stroking Marty’s cock until his son’s lips pulled up in a smile.

“Okay, Dad,” he panted.

Martin kept going, gently rubbing his thumb across the skin that covered his son’s sensitive glans.

“Daaad,” Marty complained and swatted at his hand halfheartedly.

The swing swayed back and forth, and Martin released them both while dropping to his knees on the soft grass. He slid the foreskin back and stuck the head of Marty’s cock in his mouth. It was another thing he never foresaw enjoying so much; either sucking cock, or the taste of his son’s cum.

Marty tried to pull his pelvis back, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. He barked out a laugh, corded his fingers into Martin’s hair, and pulled him off. “You fucker!”

Suddenly Marty’s weight pushed Martin off balance, and before he knew it, he’d landed on his back with a thud. His son’s wet chest pressed into his and Marty grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head.

His chest couldn’t help but expand at his son’s toothy grin and exuberant eyes. He allowed Marty to keep his arms held down; he knew—they both knew—despite Martin being twenty years his senior, he could easily break his son’s firm grasp.

Marty’s expression slowly sobered as Martin held his gaze. “Love you so much, Dad,” he breathed softly.

Straining forward, Martin brought their lips together and, in doing so, was struck by both the similarity of the situation and the reversal of ten years ago. Then, it had been him atop Marty, pinning his son down, and telling him that no matter how much Marty may want an intimate relationship, it wasn’t going to happen.

His son’s eyes, so incredibly expressive, obviously hadn’t closed upon Martin’s kiss. Martin, with little effort, pulled a hand free and ran his thumb across Martin’s cheek. “And I love you, Muggles.”

He watched as Marty’s eyes glassed over. Marty wasn’t one for emotional displays, and the moment struck Martin hard. Freeing his other hand, he wrapped one arm around Marty’s back, and the other around his neck, he pulled his son in for a solid embrace.

“You know,” Marty said into his ear, “there was a time when I just hoped you’d be able to give me something physical. I thought,
‘Even if all he can do…’
.”

Martin heard the emotion in his son’s voice, followed by a noisy swallow, before he continued.

“I mean, I thought,
‘If I could just have that much of him, I’ll be happy. I’ll be satisfied. It’ll be enough’
.”

Martin eased the embrace. Marty didn’t pull back, but instead laid his body’s full weight atop him.

When he spoke again, his chin rested just above Martin’s collarbone. “Then, a few years ago, when I realized you might actually feel a small part of what I felt for you in return… My world has never been the same since.”

Marty’s lips brushed across Martin’s neck, and he slid off onto his back, next to him on the grass.

“I love you, Dad, more than anything, or anyone, and I feel so incredibly blessed to feel that love now returned by you.

“Many times over the years, you’ve said you weren’t sure if you could love me the same way I loved you. I’ve thought long and hard about how to describe the love I feel for you; how’d I actually put it into words. What I came up with was a few questions: Do I care about him more than anyone else? Is his happiness more important than my own? When we’re apart, do I constantly think about him? Am I stupidly happy to be with him? And, lastly, does even the slightest thought of him make me crazy horny? Of course the answer to all of those, for me, has always been
yes
. But, a few years ago, I realized they were likely a
yes
for you as well.”

Without raising his head, Martin searched the grass between them, found Marty’s hand, and twined their fingers together. “The answer
is
yes for me too.”

“M and I will be heading home tomorrow, and it’s the first time I’ve been completely at peace with leaving you, at peace with where our relationship stands, and at peace with the long months that suspends this part of our lives.” Marty turned his head toward Martin, and when he mirrored his son’s movement, Marty untwined their fingers and brushed the tear off Martin’s cheek.

The sun dappled through the tree’s leaves overhead and cast shadows across Marty’s face. The contrast between the ever-shifting light and dark shapes struck Martin. For years he himself had felt like those vulnerable, shifting outlines. For nearly a decade, his unimagined feelings for Marty seemed to be in a constant state of flux, reshaping themselves in completely unexpected ways. And Marty was right; the last several years had seen a peaceful sort of resolve and calm settle on him.

“And you call me a fucker?” Martin snorted. “I haven’t cried since the morning you were born.”

Marty propped himself up on an elbow, and his eyes settled to the grass just on the other side of Martin’s relaxed torso. “Oh, and I’m really glad we’ve finally gotten around to breaking the getaway into two one-week trips, Old Man. Six months seems much less daunting than twelve.” Marty winked, reached across him, snagged the fallen ball cap, and set it atop Martin’s chest. “And that whole
look at our two cocks together thing
, damn! I think you’ve got this whole gay thing down.”

Martin ran a big hand across his face, wiping away a few more tears, and grinned. “I’m only gay for you, Son.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay another day? I can call Andrew, it’d be no problem.”

M was strapped into his car seat and Martin knew, just as Marty had done for so many years, the toddler would be out within seconds of them being on the road.

“Nah, it’s all good. I just wanna get a few more coats of sealer on the dock before heading back.”

Marty blushed.

“Ha!” Martin laughed and pulled Marty in close. “There’s something I haven’t seen in awhile, you’re actually turning red!”

His son’s hands rested on Martin’s bare hips, matching his loose, but intimate embrace of Marty’s clothed ones.

“Well, if you could keep it in your pants for more than a few hours, we’d have gotten that sealer on days ago.”

Their closeness, combined with Marty’s sudden coloring, left little doubt his son would gladly let the dock rot and fall into the water before giving up a second of their precious, stolen adult time.

He reached up, clasped Marty’s cheeks, and touched their lips together. “I love you Martin Junior. And this time we’ll be back here in just six short months.”

Marty nodded contentedly. “Only six months.”

M thumped his sock monkey on the passenger window, its button eyes tapping out an odd
dot a dot dot
Morris code against the glass, indicating his grandson’s growing impatience.

“
Vroom vroom vroom!
D?”

Martin chuckled. “Well at least he has the car sound down.”

Marty leaned in, allowing them one final kiss that would have to last six months. “Okay, I’ll see you at the office Tuesday morning.”

“Yep,” Martin said, following his son to the driver’s door, and then closing it as Marty buckled himself in. “Drive safe. And text me when you get back, okay?”

“I’ve got precious cargo, wouldn’t think of doing anything else. Really glad you’ve finally figured out the whole texting thing too.” Marty winked, then looked in the rearview mirror. “You ready, Buddy?”

Martin watched them back down the drive with a smile. After a final wave, just as they pulled out of sight, he headed into the cabin and dug his phone out of his backpack, where Marty insisted it stay for the trip. At the sound of crunching tires on gravel, he peered out the window at the SUV pulling up. Even lost, dumbass possible buyers of the Hanson place didn’t dampen his mood.

With a shake of his head, he grinned as his thumbs awkwardly typed out the text.

Only 6 mths. Luv U, Squirrel. U R gonna be a dad x2! Dinner Tues nite? Andrew announcement?

He tossed the phone back into his backpack and went to meet his maybe neighbors in the buff. Life was good.

Final Thoughts / About the Authors

T
HANK YOU for purchasing Quillon’s Covert. If you enjoyed your time with the story, we would really appreciate if you took a few minutes to leave a review on Smashwords, ARe, Goodreads, or your favorite platform. It is especially important for us as self-publishing authors, who don’t have the backing of an established press. It makes the book more appealing to potential readers and helps others make an informed decision when considering a purchase. Not to mention we simply love hearing from readers!

J
OSEPH LANCE TONLET is a born and raised Southern Californian—with a twenty-year stint of living in the Midwest. He loves the laid-back lifestyle of San Diego and considers himself lucky to live where people dream of vacationing.

A lifelong reader of m/m fiction, he began his writing career one night sitting at his MacBook and has never looked back. He writes to bring the characters he dreams about to life.

If you’re interested in upcoming releases, exclusive deals, extra content, freebies and the like, checkout his website at
http://www.josephlancetonlet.com
.

L
OUIS STEVENS is a gay romance author born and raised in South Africa. He was a shy outcast who had few friends in school; generally feeling excluded and on the fringe of society. However, when he discovered gay romance and erotica in 2007, at the age of seventeen, his mind and world opened up.

He wrote his first story, A Better Life, longhand in a 197-page spiral notebook, on his bed every night with a pillow curled under his chin. Although the book wouldn’t be published until 2011, with the now defunct Silver Publishing, he found the experience entirely liberating. He’s considered himself a writer ever since.

If you’re interested in upcoming releases, exclusive deals, extra content, freebies and the like, checkout his website at
http://www.louisstevensauthor.com
.