"Nolan, can I ask you something? About your past?"
He shifted back a little so we could look at each other more easily, and smiled. "Of course. You can ask me anything."
I nodded, but it still took me a moment to find the words, to find the courage.
"Will you tell me about my mom?"
Nolan blinked, then nodded. "Of course. Whatever you want to know."
"Just... what was she like? What kind of person was she?"
Nolan smiled, then pulled me closer. I pressed my cheek into his chest, soaking in the heat of his skin as I waited for him to speak.
"Your mother... she was a lot like you, actually. Even if you hadn't told me who she was to you, I think I would've realized."
"Really?" The thought made me feel warm. My mother had died before I could make any memories, and to know that I was still like her... it healed something in me.
"Tell me a story. Tell me something she did, something good," I urged, and Nolan squeezed me closer.
"Of course."
Nolan
I told Zamir about his mom, about the way her brown eyes would sparkle any time she came across a cat, how she couldn't resist petting them and begging until I let her bring them home. At one point, we'd had fifteen cats, and only then I'd been able to put my foot down and say no.
She'd had the same curly hair and dark eyes as Zamir, and she'd made full use of those baby browns to get me to do whatever she wanted. She'd been like a daughter to me, and while she was one of the few people I'd let go of on my own terms—she'd grown up, and she'd needed to find her own way—I still missed her terribly.
"So... if she was your daughter, what does that make me?" Zamir joked, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and I groaned.
"Please don't say it."
"Grandpa?" he teased, and I covered my face with a hand, pushing him away with the other as he laughed. "Pops? Papi?"
"Shut up," I growled, my cheeks hot under my palm, and he laughed.
"Aww, what's the matter, Grandpa?"
I moved before he could realize what I was doing, and pinned him to the mattress. Covering his body with mine, I slammed my lips to his before he could say anything else that made me want to dig a hole and bury myself in it.
Zamir laughed into the kiss, but obediently kissed me back. He wrapped his legs around me, and I rocked into him, our cocks hard once more. His silky length pressed against mine, and I rocked into him as I slid my tongue into his mouth.
Without pulling away from the kiss, I grabbed his cock and sank down on it, my hole still wet and open from earlier since I'd only given myself a cursory wipe.
Zamir gasped into the kiss, and this time, I let him thrust into me, and I matched his rhythm. We kissed as we moved against each other, and it wasn't long before Zamir was filling me up again. This time, we came together, and I clung to him as I spilled between us, then slumped over him, feeling completely drained.
We were quiet for a long, long moment. Then Zamir chuckled. "Maybe I should call you grandpa more often," he joked, and I groaned. Damn it. I'd kissed him to shut him up, but instead I'd ended up encouraging him.
Leaning up, I glared at him. Since we were pressed close, his cock was still inside me, and I squeezed around his soft length, making him gasp. "If youeverwant me inside you, you'll never say that word to me again."
Zamir's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."
"I'm thousands of years old, Zamir. I'm very patient."
Zamir swallowed hard, then sighed. "Fine, fine. I won't call you... that. I promise."
I humphed, then pressed a kiss on his lips before sitting up. "I'll get a cloth."
"Nah, let's take a shower."
