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James is used to strange noises waking him up in the middle of the night.
These noises could come from gunshots, from disturbing announcements made by nearby raider or mutant troops, from approaching deathclaws, yao guais, mole rats or other beasts, from brawls at the local bar or from neighbor rows escalating into life and death fights. One time he even started up from his well-deserved sleep, because somewhere some maniac had fired a mini-nuke and created a small atomic explosion, whose shockwave snatched James’ tent away and him almost with it.
Waking up to the sounds of his son masturbating next to him in bed is comparatively pleasant to that. Very pleasant, actually.
Tommy’s lips are slightly parted, the hand fisting his erection moving at a rapid pace. His naked skin shimmers in the moonlight and James’ heart skips a beat when the other’s aquamarine gaze meets his drowsy one.
Tommy cracks a self-complacent smile then.
James must admit – he is impressed.
They’ve been wandering all day, the pain in their sore muscles only finally easing after having found an abandoned house to rest in. There even was an instance where they had to fend off a swarm of bloatflies. And still, after all this, Tommy has the willingness and capability of conjuring dirty thoughts in his mind.
Adolescence is a true blessing, thinks James to himself. Oh, to be nineteen again…
It should not stun him though. His son’s libido is almost insatiable, that exhilarating piece of information James did get to find out first hand. And that Tommy would pleasure himself pretty much anywhere and anytime in the vault, whenever he felt like it and regardless of his surroundings, that his son told him about, too, when their relationship gained these new… additions. It’s also not the first time the other is masturbating next to him, just the first time James wasn’t awake from the beginning.
Their gazes remain locked to each other and a familiar cluster of warmth emerges in his stomach at the sight.
The feeling of being watch is pure fuel for Tommy’s excitement. His son lets out heavy pants, raising his hips to give his father a better view of the show. Then Tommy’s bites his lip as he climaxes, spilling semen into his firm clasp.
The younger man weakly sinks back into the mattress, giving himself a moment of recovery before shooting an archly glance accompanied by a wide grin at his father.
Tommy then leisurely collects some of his release with his other, up until that moment clean hand, before bringing it to his mouth to curiously suck at his own index and middle finger.
“It tastes differently” he assesses and there is no hint of seductiveness in his voice. Tommy, being the constant scientist, is merely enunciating a fact, probably only to himself even.
“What?” James yawns.
“My sperm. It tastes different from how it tasted while we were still living in the vault” says the boy in all sobriety.
“It does?”
“Do you think I’m joking?”
“I fear you’re not”
Unperturbed by his father’s snark, the younger man continues with his observation.
“It’s…” Tommy licks the tips of his fingers once more. “Muskier, thicker than usual – probably due to my drastic change of nutrition and lifestyle during these past weeks. But that was to expect when underdone mole rat steak becomes your staple diet”
James would very much like to drift back into dreamland now, but he not only inherited but also shares the same pronounced sense of curiosity with his offspring, so he presses on the subject.
“How can you know it diverges from the norm?”
“I should know my own body, James, should I not?”
“Yeah, but I’ve never met someone who knows their body like that”
“Well, if you don’t believe me, then why don’t you try negating my theory?” accepts the younger man the challenge James did not make.
James lets out a sigh but does not deny Tommy’s fingers when they are offered to him.
“I taste no difference” he says after having tried some.
Tommy raises an eyebrow and his facial expression exudes such offense, as if James just did something utterly crude.
“Did your taste buds suddenly dry out? How can’t you notice it’s changed, given how many times you swallowed it in the past?”
“I don’t take notes every time I––– okay, now that you mention it, it does taste differently. You were right and I was wrong” he panders to the other to finally get this over with. “Now go back to sleep. We got a long day ahead of us”
But he lost his son’s interest at ‘you were right’, and now the boy is lost in his pondering.
Fine, James resigns himself. He closes his eyes and decides to let Tommy be Tommy, so long as he remains quiet.
Not even five minutes later an apparently cleansed hand caresses his cheek.
“Hey, dad”
“Hmh?” mutters James his response.
“I wonder if yours has changed as well”
His eyes flutter open and god, Tommy’s inquisitive expression is just lovely, something the boy is very aware of. He inches up to James, so close his son’s warm breath against his ear sends an excited thrill down his spine.
“I want to taste you, James. Please let me taste you?”
“It’s way past midnight, Tommy”
“But you taste so good”
“And I’m tired”
“And you feel so good”
“So, so, so tired”
“It’s been so long since I last got to feel you”
“It’s been a day”
But James stands no chance against this expression, against this voice, against this warm and inviting body nestled up to him. His muscles ache and his eye lids are heavy with fatigue, and James has a good mind to just turn his back to the other and fall sleep again, but Tommy stirred a tinge of desire in him, a very much ambitious tinge.
“See if you can even get it up, then do as you please” he speaks, pulling down the blanket and his underpants enough to expose his as of yet indifferent endowment.
“Nothing could be easier” retorts the younger man smugly.
Tommy then turns his full attention to James’ lower parts, giving his flaccid member some first gentle squeezes before starting to stroke it to firmness, his other hand massaging his testicles in a way that has James wide wake within a matter of seconds.
When his son notches up his performance by leisurely licking the underside of his cock, James groans out the other’s name soundly, his fingers curling into the sheets to keep them from burying themselves in Tommy’s hair.
He feels a first drop of pre-come oozing out of his slit.
“See” reaches Tommy’s self-satisfied murmuring through to him.
That his body succumbs so easily is gratifying and disappointing at the same time. Which one of them outweighs the other, James has no mind figuring out right now.
He decides to relish, not to think.
He shivers when his son presses a wet kiss to his glans, then can’t control himself and groan a low ‘fuck’ the moment that Tommy takes him into his mouth.
Or rather, the moment that Tommy almost takes him into his mouth.
His lips are there, ever so slightly stretched around James’ tip that, if only he wanted, his son could start giving him pleasure right and here right now. But Tommy is not that generous. He has his wicked ways of brining James to the verge of despair with his touch, so that, when he’s finally granted it, release from his cravings is more than just intense.
On a different day, at a different time, James might’ve tried to turn the tables, but he’s exhausted and dazed on lust. All he wants is to play his part in this game correctly so that he may be rewarded with a good night’s sleep.
What little is visible of the younger man in the inky darkness of the room, James finds most alluring. The almost fluorescent blue of Tommy’s gaze bores right through him, and it’s sweet, blissful torture to have his son so close and yet so far away from him. His warmth against James’ skin in the coldness of the night, but unmoving and frozen as if Tommy were merely the effigy of a lover. Words have no need to be said, at least not by one of them, to make clear what is demanded.
“Please” he murmurs, caressing the soft waves of the other’s hair to charm him into indulgence. “Please, Tommy, son, have mercy on me”
That word. Son. Saying it out loud has become painful for James, but it has a certain, downright perverse effect on the boy.
Then, on the spur of the moment and due to a sudden, repulsing instinct, he lets a quiet ‘don’t you want to make your father happy?’ slip out.
As if struck by a thunderbolt, the other unpetrifies at the words and the still of the night is broken by a variety of filthy, lustrous sounds.
First with slow, then keen motions the son grants his father’s wish, only ever letting go of him for benefactions such as tracing the veins on his shaft with his tongue or rubbing the flat of his thumb deftly over his perineum.
As if that wasn’t enough, James’ enjoyment intensifies even more when Tommy surprises him by lightly scratching the sensitive skin of his scrotum, drawing out an unexpected gasp from James as he gives it a pinch.
The pain has him even more aroused. And before he can even comprehend or ask himself where on earth his son learnt these new tricks, and how he can be so good at them, he’s already finding himself back in the younger man’s warm, wonderful mouth.
“To–– mmy” is all the warning he can stutter. But his lover understands, lets go, and then, finally, James comes in the firm grasp of Tommy’s hand.
He can’t see him but knows the other is already licking his stained palm, tasting James, just like he intended.
James can’t even be sour on Tommy getting his will again, not when he feels so relaxed and at ease, as though he just downed a whole bottle of tranquilizer.
“You’re saltier too… but not as much. And the consistency is pretty much the same”
“Thank god, I can’t imagine how the world could’ve kept on turning, had you not made this sensational discovery tonight”
“Oh, how right you are about this, James” either Tommy didn’t detect the sarcasm or it doesn’t matter to him.
“Try” and once more James tastes the sticky fluid on the younger man’s digits, with the difference that this time, it’s his own.
“Hmm… it’s a bit different” he replies even though it’s not.
Tommy wipes his hand clean on the sheets again before lying down next to James, urging his father to put his hand on his waist.
He wants to sleep but something preys on his mind, demanding to be asked.
“You did some things this time you don’t usually do… things which I don’t usually do either, some not at all” he swallows hard, fighting the jealous tugging at his insides. “Did somebody… teach you them?”
“Huh? Why in god’s name would I ever want to have sex with someone besides you?” Tommy turns around and gives him an I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that-look. “I’ve been trying out some new stuff in self-experimentation, like tonight, for example. If you would’ve woken up sooner, you might’ve caught me attempting them”
They’re face to face, their noses touching. So peaceful.
“I just wanted to get reeeaaally good at it before I’d try them out on you. I wanted to surprise you, and as you can see, I quite did”
“Doctor Thomas Nilo Tacy – a researcher with heart and soul” James snickers.
“What can I say? Sexology is an intriguing field of study” comes the reply, followed by the well-known smirk.
“Hmm… we should form a research group, you and me”
“A terrific idea” says his son, his voice dizzy and weary, the smirk subsiding to a gentle, happy smile.
And that’s the last sound of the night for the two of them.