That’s all the permission I need. I push him onto the bed and bend his legs until he’s in the perfect submissive pose. He rests his head on his folded arms with a contented sigh, eyes already hooded just from the idea of my mouth on him. I carefully push the jersey up to his mid-back so it’s perfectly bunched, still showing off my name across his shoulder blades.
I part his ass cheeks, proceeding to bury my face in the crease of his ass. God. The smell of him is intoxicating, clean, fresh, with just a little of Harper’s normal musk. My mouth instantly waters. I take that as a sign to dive in. Harper’s spine curves as I lick into him, using my tongue to fuck him until he softens against me. The moans that fall from his lips are divine, the sound an angel surely makes when they weep with joy.
I take mercy on him and lick my hand, pumping his painfully hard cock as I plunge my tongue inside him. His thighs tremble, and the pleasure-filled sounds from his mouth intensify.
“Jackson, oh my God.” Harper’s hand reaches back to hold my face tight against his ass.
I grin in success against him, roughly biting at a cheek until Harper squirms beneath me. The sound of my name on his lips is great, but I think Daddy would sound even better. I spearmy tongue into his now loose hole and pump his cock hard, smearing the gathering wetness around the swollen head.
Harper lets out a decidedly pained whimper, just before he softly cries, “Daddy.” A moment later he’s coming all over my hand, his hole clenching around my tongue. My cock is so hard that I could cry myself. Just when he’s about to collapse with relief, I grab his hips between my palms and flip him over onto his back.
Harper stares up at me in some sort of wonder, maybe also a little bit of worship. I hurriedly undo my pants with my clean hand and shove them off until I’m naked. Straddling his slim hips, I use his cum to furiously pump my cock as I lean over him. His eyes are a liquid forest. I could easily fall into their depths forever.
“Say you’re mine,” I pant out, hand working furiously over my cock.
“I’m yours,” Harper repeats, like the good boy he is.
“Forever.”
Harper swallows loudly, gaze dipping to my cock, then back up to my eyes. “Come on me. Paint me with your cum until everyone knows I’m yours. And then tomorrow you’ll fuck me again and plug me up so I can walk around with your cum inside me. No one will ever question who I belong to ever again.”
I come with the force of a car crash, painting the concave creamy skin on his stomach. Like some sort of fucking caveman, I smear my cum into his skin, then lean down to kiss his sweet mouth. I’m not stupid, I know what he said, and what he didn’t say. It might take months, years, or decades, but one day Harper will know who he belongs to, and it’s going to be me in the end.
My parents arethe best people in the world. I never wanted for anything growing up. Copious amounts of love, a safe home, whatever new toy I wanted they did their best to afford, and they both spent weekends shuttling me to basketball games. Just a few years ago, I surprised them by paying off my childhood home so that they could retire a few years ahead of schedule.
Although retired, I don’t think either of them has ever stopped working. My father was a principal in Atlanta for thirty years, and my mother was a kindergarten teacher for almost just as long. Now they spend their time helping at-risk youth in the city, instead of traveling as I’d hoped they would. But their love is plentiful and they want to share it, so I can’t fault them for that.
Harper grips my hand tight as we walk up the three stairs that lead to the doorway of my parents’ old brick three-bedroom house. One knock is all it takes before my mom opens the door with a flourish, a wide grin on her wrinkled face.
“Jackson!” Her warm arms envelop me before I can even blank. But I don’t let go of Harper’s hand, even when he tries to wiggle away.
Finished with me, she lets go of me to immediately take Harper in her arms. Harper stands straight as a stick, clearly stunned by my mother’s welcoming embrace.
“You can call me Mila.”
Harper swallows hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh my lord, he’s the cutest thing, Jackson. The absolute perfect shade of his hair. You’re beautiful!”
Harper’s skin goes roughly the shade of a tomato at my mother’s compliment.
“He’s the most gorgeous thing in the entire northern hemisphere,” I readily agree.
I can practically feel the rage rolling off of Harper. But he bites it back in my mother’s presence because, again, he’s the perfect boy. My childhood home smells like cinnamon, greens, and turkey when we walk through the door. A few years ago, I surprised my parents with a decent renovation. New wood floors, a new kitchen, and a new bathroom. My father had grumpily tried to refuse, but I’m great at convincing people to let me do nice things for them. Case in point, Harper.
My dad sits in the recliner at the end of the living room, glasses halfway down his nose, a tablet in his wrinkled hands. His face lights up at the sight of me. I’m so glad to be home.
“Hey, Dad.” I press a greeting kiss on his forehead. “This is my boyfriend, Harper.”
Harper waves shyly from where he stands beside my mother.
“Wow, you nabbed a stunner,” Dad teases out of the corner of his mouth, only loud enough for me to hear.
“I’m going to marry him,” I whisper back, a secret just between us.
Dad’s answering grin is incandescent. My heart goes into overtime when Harper joins my mother in the kitchen, falling easily into step beside her to finish preparing for Thanksgiving dinner.
“The Falcons are looking good this year. That young new quarterback might get us somewhere for once.”
