Chapter Text
Grady Lincoln spent the day snoozing on and off in his favorite recliner in the living room. It was the weekend, and that meant a break from the small family’s normal routine: Amara going to work in the business district early in the morning, Grady taking Brodie to kindergarten for half the day, getting as much work done as possible while he had the time, then taking care of the sweet five-year-old boy for the rest of the day. It was a simple life, but Grady loved it.
He also loved that he got to hunker down in his favorite pair of sweats, shirtless since he wouldn’t be taking any work calls, and opening his eyes only wide enough to check the score on the TV, sound low.
Amara spent as much of the weekend with Brodie as she could, and sometimes Grady joined them. Sometimes, he worked on projects around the house or went out with his buddies. And sometimes, he napped.
It was a beautiful life he lived.
The next time Grady came to full consciousness, he was greeted with the warmth and weight of forty pounds of little boy sprawled across his chest, body rising and lowering with his father’s slow, deep breaths. Grady smiled, watching his boy sleep, looking so pure and at peace that Grady wished he could take a photo while simultaneously wanting to keep Brodie sequestered in their own little world, safe and sound.
Grady’s wide palms and long, strong fingers were already spread over the boy’s golden-tan skin, a few shades lighter than his mother’s, holding him in his sleep. Brodie was wearing only teeny tiny, Adventure Time themed boxer-briefs. ‘I live with two nudists,’ Amara would sometimes complain, feigning exasperation when the first thing her husband and son did when they got home was kick off their shoes and strip off half of their clothing.
This was his favorite way to wake up, Grady decided. His other favorite way to wake up usually happened in the bedroom with his wife on her knees between his legs.
Grady’s cock twitched, semi-erect. He wasn’t particularly perturbed by the occurrence. One thing parents got used to quickly was being in uncomfortable situations, and at twenty six years old, Grady found himself still sporting wood at inopportune times. There would be no hope for him if he freaked out every time his cock plumped up in his five-year-old son’s presence.
Grady began dragging his calloused fingers over the boy’s back in soothing circles that made his son practically purr like a cat, starting at his narrow shoulder blades and ending at the waistband of his underwear. Eventually, Brodie let out a cute little whining noise from his nose and nuzzled into his daddy’s clavicle.
“Where’s mom?” whispered Grady, not wanting to disturb his boy more than necessary if he wasn’t ready to wake up.
Brodie didn’t respond, just let out a grumpy little grunt at his nap being interrupted. Grady fought the urge to chuckle lest he disturb the sleeping angel.
Once Grady was sick of sports highlights, he started flipping channels. He hesitated on an episode of Law & Order: SVU–the irony would become apparent later–but when his semi went to full mast at the scene of a woman screaming and crying as she was raped by a masked man on screen, he decided to try Netflix instead. Grady’s cock had always behaved inappropriately to SVU, which was how he’d fallen down a rabbit hole of rough sex and rape fantasy pornography as a kid.
On record, Grady had never raped someone, nor had he ever had sexual relations with a minor–at least, not while he was not a minor himself. He didn’t have a desire to hurt women and children. But fuck if his cock didn’t get hard thinking about it sometimes.
And there were times where he had to take a good, hard look at himself and say, ‘What the absolute fuck do you think you’re doing right now?’
For example, right before he clicked off of SVU, he noticed that his free hand had snuck under the waistband of his son’s small boxer-briefs and was rubbing circles against the soft flesh there, one of the few areas on his body with excess padding.
Now, as he was about to play Adventure Time for his son to wake up to, he was afraid to remove his hand from where it was gently kneading his son’s asscheek because he was still tenting his sweats and couldn’t help but feel that he was about to lose the battle of wills between himself and his cock if he had a hand free.
Brodie squirmed against Grady’s chest, and his heart warmed, even as the boy slid down the final inch or two of space remaining between his virgin ass and his daddy’s thick, eight inch cock.
Grady had thought he'd had some idea of the love parents felt for their kids, but nothing compared to the feeling of primal need to love and protect and nurture. It was a burden he was happy to bear, a responsibility he prioritized above all else. He tried to be a good man, a good dad. He would never hurt his son.
He would never hurt his son.
He wouldn’t.
But…there were different types of hurt. And he sometimes felt he was close to crossing that line between the classic ‘good touch vs. bad.’
As his son sighed happily in his sleep, Grady thought, ‘This is a neutral touch.’ He would let himself have this moment, as they were few and far between.
Gradually, Brodie began to stir, and Grady was about to retract his hand from where he was now sliding his finger gently over his son’s tiny taint. He paused, however, when he realized that the five-year-old wasn’t squirming from discomfort–he was mouthing at his daddy’s chest, trying to find a nipple to latch onto; despite his boy not being breastfed for three years, Grady knew the signs. He and his wife had laughed when Brodie tried to nurse from him when he was little, sometimes just letting him do his thing, his wife not judging when he got a semi, just lifting her brows in amusement because she knew her husband had sensitive nipples.
Brodie latched on, and Grady’s hips bucked of their own volition, his son lifting with him, highlighting how damn small he was, while Grady briefly saw stars in his eyes. Goddamn, he loved having his tits sucked. He held his son in place with the hand cupping his rear, grinding his hard meat against his little boy butt, only to realize that his son’s tiny cock was erect and poking into his groin. They hadn’t had the birds and the bees talk, and his son was likely acting on instinct.
Grady’s eyes squeezed shut, almost losing his nut at the thought that his little boy was trying to use his body to get off, the same as his daddy.
He needed to stop–
“Daddy?”
Grady froze, eyes widening before he schooled his features and looked down at his boy. “Yeah, baby?” His words came out gravelly and deep, and he cleared his throat.
“What are you doing?” asked Brodie, blinking his unusual silver eyes up at his daddy.
Grady’s brain short-circuited for a moment. He usually had an explanation prepared for when he got overzealous during cuddles–not that it happened much, he swore–but he’d never gotten this carried away, and he suddenly couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone a plausible explanation for why he was humping his son like he had his pillows when he was just a boy himself.
“Feels good,” Brodie added, grinning. Then he giggled. “I sucked your nipple.”
“You did,” responded Grady, a smile creeping onto his face. Then, he leaned down and took his son’s microscopic boy nipple into his mouth and sucked gently on the delicate skin, simultaneously using his fingers to tickle the boy’s ribs. Brodie squealed and squirmed on his lap, causing him to grind against his crotch, and Grady bit back an almost pained groan. “Does that feel good?” he asked when he pulled back to look at his giggling little boy.
“Yeah,” Brodie said, panting a bit. Then he looked down. “My weewee is sticking up. Is yours, too? Is that what’s poking my butt?” He sat back down on Grady’s dick, and the father tried to remain focused.
Ah, shit. It was game time.
“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” Grady said, embracing that they were having round one of the birds and bees talk a few years earlier than he had deemed necessary. “Boys–well, people with penises–” They could have that talk later, since as far as he knew, there weren’t any trans or nonbinary kids in his class. “Get erections. Most boys call it a ‘hard on’ or ‘getting hard,’ but that’s slang. Remember what slang is?”
Brodie nodded, silver eyes wide with fascination as he soaked up the impromptu sex education. “An erection happens when a weewee gets…hard?” He tilted his head questioningly. It was adorable.
Grady knew his son was brilliant, but it never ceased to amaze him how articulate and eloquent he could be, incongruous with his small stature and favorite teddy bear that he slept with every night, or the fact that he loved to get into bed with his parents for a snuggle. It was difficult, sometimes, to know where the limit was, how to keep things age appropriate when he asked questions as he observed the world around him–Grady and Amara had to stop watching the news around their son the day he said, ‘So a terrorist is someone who attacks civilians?’
Yeah, it was tricky. Especially when it came to teaching him right from wrong, boundaries, and how to express his needs.
Fuck.
“How do we fix it?”
Fuck it. If Grady didn’t tell him, he would figure it out for himself anyway, so he might as well teach him to do it safely.
“Well, we can do it a few ways,” began Grady, developing a strategy as he spoke. “One, we can ignore it until it goes away.” Brodie wrinkled his nose, displeased with that option, and Grady chuckled and kissed his son on the forehead, lips lingering for a moment before pulling back. “Two, we can take it out and touch it.”
Brodie beamed and sat up so he could push down his shorts enough that he could free his tiny erection. Grady inhaled slowly and calmly through his nose when he saw it, fighting the urge to reach out and play with it. It was beautiful and looked so fucking soft, just like the rest of his boy, the same pretty golden hue as the rest of his skin.
Brodie poked at his dicklet for a moment, then tried brushing his fingers over it. Watching his son’s tiny hand work his tiny erection was so erotic that his cock, which had gone from ‘ready to blow’ to ‘needs attention,’ began to stiffen back up to critical. Brodie seemed to feel it, because he asked, “Aren’t you going to take out your hardon?”
Thank fuck. “Sure, buddy, if you want.” When Brodie nodded, Grady lifted his hips, dislodging his son and making him giggle and grab onto his daddy’s bare shoulders, and pushed down his sweats until his cock and balls were out.
“Wow,” Brodie said, eyes wide with wonder, as he looked at his dad’s throbbing, red hued member. “What’s that?” he asked when he saw the wetness at the tip, though not knowing what it was didn’t stop him from using a little finger to swipe through the mess. Grady’s cock flexed and drooled more precum. He needed to get off–badly–but he refused to ruin his son’s first sexual experience…even if it was one that he would be explaining to a therapist in ten years.
“It’s pre-ejaculate,” Grady asked, forcing his voice to remain even as his son closed a small fist around his cock, hand not quite able to close around its circumference. “It’s what happens before I ejaculate, or orgasm. It’s often called ‘cum’ or ‘cumming.’ It carries the stuff that makes babies–sperm.”
“Ohhhh,” Brodie said, brownish-pink lips in a perfect circle that would look lovely wrapped around his daddy’s dick. “It looks cool. Is my dick gonna get this big one day?” His little fist squeezed.
More cock snot oozed out, and Grady grunted.
Brodie released his cock quickly, which was just as well because he was probably seconds from blowing. “Did I hurt you, daddy?” His silver eyes were etched with worry, and Grady’s heart–though not his cock–softened yet more with adoration.
“No, baby boy, it felt good.” Then, because apparently he was done pretending to himself that he wasn’t molesting his son, he asked, “Do you want me to show you what it feels like?”
They both looked down at Brodie’s baby dick, still sticking out proudly from his soft, hairless groin. “Yes, please, daddy!” He reached for his daddy's cock a second time.
“What do you want me to do?” Grady asked with exaggerated confusion.
Brodie giggled, hand tensing on his shaft. “Touch my weewee, daddy!” Without prompting, he added a dutiful and heartfelt “please?”
“Since you asked so nicely, baby boy,” Grady said, kissing the corner of his boy’s lips, lingering longer than he normally would while he was awake. Brodie didn’t pull away until his daddy put his hand on his cocklet, and only then it was so he could gasp and look down. Brodie’s little boy dick was so small that he only needed his forefinger and thumb to stroke it, little foreskin moving up and down. “It’s good–” He cleared his throat. “It’s good for you to play with your foreskin–” he tapped the skin for emphasis. “Especially once your dick starts growing. I’ll get you some special lotion for it.”
“Dick? You mean my weewee?”
“Yeah, baby. Your little weewee.” He closed his hand over Brodie’s on his dick, showing the boy how to stroke him up and down. “This is how you make daddy feel good, son. You jerk him off, using your hands to stroke him up and down.” Grady hadn’t spoken about himself in the third person with his son since he was graduating from toddlerhood, but he found himself slipping back into the role easily.
Brodie’s light eyes were glazed over, his breath coming in shallow puffs as his daddy jerked him off. He stared down at their dicks, side by side. The size difference would be comical if it weren’t so fucking hot.
“When I cum–orgasm–” Grady was panting now, too. “My dick is going to shoot cum. It’s going to spray white stuff that has all of daddy’s sperm in it. That’s how me and your mommy made you.”
“Daddy! I–” Brodie gasped, unconsciously riding Grady’s thigh now. “I have to pee.”
“That’s okay,” Grady soothed. “You can pee on daddy. It feels good, I promise. Just let yourself pee.”
Brodie’s body began to shake as he had his first dry orgasm. He whimpered, his hand spasming in Grady’s, and Grady shot off like a rocket, a noise something like a pained groan and a growl escaping his throat, face contorting into a feral expression more appropriate for a beast.
“Daddy!” Brodie cried, the five-year-old’s eyes locked onto his daddy’s penis. “It’s cum.”
“Yeah, baby,” Grady confirmed. Their hands, their cocks, and his pubes were covered in the opaque cream. Grady lifted his hand to his mouth, licking the jizz off of the back of his hand, letting out an exaggerated “mmm.” He wasn’t a cum eater, didn’t care for the stuff, but damn, he wanted his son to eat his baby batter, the same stuff that made him.
I’m going to hell, he thought, watching as his son eagerly tried his spurt. To his surprise, he didn’t make a disgusted face, but he did wrinkle his nose in confusion. “That’s weird.” Just as Grady was about to tell him it was okay not to like it, his son surprised him by licking his hand again, and again. “Why don’t I make it?”
“You’re too young. It’ll be a few more years before your body goes through puberty. I didn’t start making it until I was twelve.”
Brodie nodded thoughtfully. “Until I can make my own, can I have yours? We can share!”
A smile curved Grady’s lips, and he leaned in for another slow kiss with his son, even slower than the one they shared before. “Of course we can, baby.”
Brodie matched his smile and smooched him again. “I love you, daddy.”
“I love you, too, baby,” Grady said. Then, he smeared some of the cum on his lips and leaned in to his son, just to see what he’d do, and Brodie didn’t disappoint, leaning in and giggling as he kissed and licked the cum off his daddy’s lips.
“You’re silly, daddy,” Brodie informed him.
To prove him right, Grady leaned forward and snorted obnoxiously as he pretended to take little bites out of his son, covering his teeth with his lips so he wouldn’t hurt him accidentally. The peels of joyous laughter were a beautiful sound, and Grady crushed his little boy to his chest in a big bear hug, careful not to crush him.
Brodie’s arms and legs wrapped around his daddy and he squeezed back with all his strength. “Thank you for showing me how to jerk off, daddy.”
The words ‘don’t tell mommy’ were on the tip of his tongue, but Grady fought them down. For one, he didn’t want to lie to the mother of his child. Secondly, he didn’t want to set a precedent that Grady condoned lying, or that what they were doing was wrong–well, more specifically that masturbation was wrong–or that sex was a shameful secret.
Grady might be traumatizing his kid–though he sure as fuck hoped he wasn’t–but there was no need to pile on in the process.
“Of course, baby,” he said. “Anytime.”