Wyatt looked at him then. His eyes were glinting with anger, his jaw thrust forward. “Don’t lie. I heard you on the phone with your wife talking about your kid.”
Linc tried to think back to the numerous calls he’d had but couldn’t pinpoint one that would have given Wyatt the idea that Linc was married… to a woman… and had a kid?
He should let him believe it. It would be easier if Wyatt thought Linc was a liar and a cheater. Maybe he’d hate Linc enough to dismiss him from his mind entirely and never look back. But Linc just couldn’t have him thinking that way. He hated dishonesty. “I’m not married, and I definitely don’t have a kid.”
Wyatt searched Linc’s face like the truth was written on his forehead. “You told her you were doing everything you could, and you said your kid would try to dress himself. I’m guessing he’s pretty young. You don’t have to lie… this isn’t a thing, remember?”
Understanding dawned and Linc dropped his face into the crook of Wyatt’s shoulder, placing a kiss there before he lifted his head to meet Wyatt’s accusatory gaze. “I was talking to my sister, Ellie, about my father.”
Wyatt frowned, his expression leery. “Your dad was trying to dress himself? That’s not even a good lie.”
Linc shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this—not with Wyatt, not with anybody—but he needed Wyatt to understand why this couldn’t keep happening, no matter how much Linc wanted it. Wyatt needed to know what was at stake.
“My father has a disease called Korsakoff Syndrome which has caused severe and permanent dementia. He lives with Ellie in Orlando, but he’s getting so bad she’s having a hard time on her own and we need to put him in a home where people can care for him.”
Wyatt’s mouth formed a perfect O, his hands splaying over Linc’s t-shirt. “There’s nothing anybody can do for him? No treatment?”
Linc’s chest suddenly felt tight, a lump forming in his throat. He locked it down. He didn’t have time to get emotional. It solved nothing. He was a Marine. Marines sucked it the fuck up and did what needed to be done. “No. By the time my sister found him, he was too far gone,” he forced himself to say.
“Found him?” Wyatt asked.
“Yeah. It’s a long story. My father has a lot of problems; alcohol was the biggest and now it will ultimately be what kills him.”
The silence stretched between them like a rope pulled taut until finally, Wyatt said, “You don’t really want to talk about this, do you?”
Pressure exploded behind Linc’s ribs, the sorrow he’d kept at bay threatening to overwhelm him. He gave a stilted shake of his head, fighting to find his control once more. Wyatt’s hands slid lower, fingering the hem of Linc’s t-shirt, silently asking permission. “Go ahead.”
Wyatt peeled Linc’s shirt off and tossed it aside, splaying his hands over Linc’s now bare skin, his look filled with wonder. He leaned forward, dragging his lips along Linc’s collarbone. His dick took notice, and Wyatt was hard again too. Linc closed his eyes, cupping Wyatt’s ass and yanking him flush against him until they both groaned.
Wyatt rocked against him as he dipped his head to tongue at the hard peak of Linc’s nipple, biting down until Linc hissed. Wyatt’s thumbs teased over Linc’s hip bones as he turned his attention to Linc’s other nipple. Linc squeezed the globes of Wyatt’s ass, grinding their cocks together through the thin layers of fabric.
Wyatt lifted his head, eyes molten as he brushed his lips across Linc’s cheek to his ear. “I want more, Daddy.”
Fuck. The boy was perfect, so perfect. His perfect boy. “You’re relentless,” he growled, teeth grazing Wyatt’s shoulder. “What do you want?”
Wyatt made a half-bitten-off sound, cheeks flushing. “I want to make you come. Please.”
“I don’t know. Do you think you deserve that?”
Once again, Wyatt hit him with the full force of those puppy eyes. “Please, Daddy. I’ll make it so good for you.”
Linc’s dick throbbed. Jesus, this fucking kid. “I don’t know. You didn’t finish your granola bar. You’ve been kind of a brat.”
Wyatt dropped his head, then looked up at him through his lashes, tone almost a whine. “Please? I won’t even come, I promise. Let me make you feel good.”
Well, that was an offer Linc hadn’t seen coming. He had already spanked him for disobeying him about his breakfast. “Take my cock out.”
Wyatt hurried to do as he was told, sliding out of Linc’s lap and kneeling between his splayed knees before hooking his fingers in Linc’s pants. He lifted his hips just enough for Wyatt to push them out of the way and free his already leaking erection.
Wyatt didn’t put his mouth on Linc’s cock, instead pressing his face against his groin and inhaling, like the scent of Linc alone was enough to get him off. Fuck. Wyatt trailed his tongue along the seam where Linc’s thigh and pelvis met, fingers digging into the grooves of Linc’s hip bones. It occurred to Linc then—Wyatt was waiting for permission.
Linc glanced at the clock sitting on the bedside table. It was one in the afternoon. They shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the day. They shouldn’t be fucking doing this at all. Somehow that made it easier for him to say, “Do it. Suck me. Make me come.”
Wyatt didn’t hesitate. He fisted the base of Linc’s cock and sucked him into the back of his throat like a goddamn porn star. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered, his abs flexing, body curling inward against his will.
There was no finesse, but what he lacked in technique he made up for with enthusiasm and a nonexistent gag reflex. Wyatt pulled off, eyes wet and lips cherry red as he trailed his mouth along the underside of Linc’s straining cock, giving him fuck-me eyes as he dipped his tongue into the slit before sucking him down once more.
Linc couldn’t help but arch his hips, couldn’t help the way he fisted his hands in Wyatt’s curls, fucking up into the hot suction of the boy’s perfect mouth, driving his cock into his throat and holding him there until tears trailed down his face. “Good boy.”
