It was another slow night at The Rusty Nail, the bar that had been Cal's second home for years now. The Rusty Nail was your typical small town dive bar, big on cheap beer, not so much on ambiance. With the owner living out his semi-retirement dreams in the panhandle of Florida, the regular staff were largely left to fend for themselves, with the expected results. It was a good thing that Cal was around to keep some semblance of order, otherwise the place would have gone to hell in a handbasket long ago.
At the moment Cal was working the counter, his hands moving on autopilot as he poured drinks and chatted with the few customers who dragged themselves in for an afterwork pick-me-up. The events of the previous night were still a messy blur, like a half-remembered dream that slipped away as he tried to grasp it, but the more Cal thought about it, the more an unsettling seed of heat and doubt formed in his mind.
As he wiped down the sticky counter lost in thought, a familiar face caught his eye. Cal’s eyes widened when he saw the bulky man take a stool directly in front of him. It was Sam Harrison, an old friend from his younger days. Sam had always been a bit of a wild card, someone who thrived on the chaos and excitement of a misbegotten youth. He had taken off on his prized motorcycle not too long after he and Cal had graduated high school, and only made rare appearances back in their sleepy hometown. Seeing him now, Cal couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the carefree days of his teenage years.
"Hey, Sam," he called out, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Long time no see. What brings you back out to my neck of the woods?"
Sam leaned over the bar, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Cal," he chuckled. The two clasped hands, the familiar feeling of Sam’s palm over his own sent an unexpected shiver down Cal’s back. Sam seemed not to notice.
Cal looked Sam over, reacquainting himself with Sam’s form after so much time. Sam was dressed in some faded jeans, a t-shirt, and his old leather jacket. The man was older, grayer, and wider than he had been when they were rebellious teenagers, but otherwise he looked the same as he always had. There was something comforting in knowing that no matter what was happening in the world, Sam Harrison would always be Sam Harrison.
Sam leaned forward, pulling a joint and his trusty lighter from his pocket. As he lit up, he offered Cal a hit, who shook his head wordlessly. Holding the joint between finger and thumb, he said between tokes, "I heard from a little birdy that you've been going through some tough times lately, so I thought I'd stop by and see how my old buddy was holding up."
Cal frowned. He didn’t like being the source of gossip, especially when it was true. Cal looked at Sam for a moment, before retrieving a glass and bottle from behind him. Cal nodded, pouring Sam a drink and sliding it across the counter. He resisted the urge to pour himself a matching glass, and settled for a bottle of water instead.
“Something like that," he admitted. "Things have been...complicated, to say the least."
Sam took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving Cal's face. Cal could feel himself beginning to blush. He never could stare Sam in the eyes for too long before without feeling like his old friend was peeling layers of him open. “Complicated, huh? Sounds like a story I'd like to hear. Why don't you spill it, Whitehurst and I'll set you straight?"
Cal hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to share. But there was something about Sam that made him feel like he could trust him, like he could open up without fear of judgment. They had always been like this, Cal straight and stubborn, Sam wild and wiser than his devil may care attitude would lead one to believe. He had no reason to think time had changed that either.
"It's my kid, Billy," he finally said, his voice softer than usual. "He's been acting strange lately, and I can't figure out why. I'm worried about him, but I don't know how to help him."
Sam nodded, his face turning serious. "That's rough, man.” He took another sip, smacking his lips as he did so. “He’s your youngest, right? High School age?” He watched as Cal nodded again. “ Kids that age can be a handful, especially when they’re trying to figure out their next move.” He leaned back and gave Cal a knowing look. “Remember how I used to be?”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Used to be?” he teased. “Harrison you were born a bum and I bet you are going to die that way too.” He refilled Sam’s glass. “Besides, Billy…he’s not like you and me. Lisa raised him better than that.” Sam raised his eyebrows in a faux insulted look before cracking into a grin.
Setting his glass down, Sam got back to business. “Boys that age are full of surprises, Cal. What makes you think he's acting strange, though? Just curious."
Cal's mind flashed to the events of the previous night, the hazy images of his son's face and the intense pleasure they had shared. He shook his head, trying to dispel the memories, if that’s what they were. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's just a feeling I've got. Like something's not quite right, but I can't put my finger on what it is."
Sam leaned in closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You know, Cal, sometimes kids act out because they're trying to get attention. Maybe Billy just needs some quality time with his old man. Why don't you take him out for a beer or something, give him a chance to open up to you?"
Cal considered this, his brow furrowing in thought. There was no way in hell he was taking Billy to a bar, or handing him a beer. But… Sam’s basic idea made sense. It couldn't hurt to try, and maybe he'd get a better idea of what was going on with his son. "You might be onto something there, Sam," he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I'll give it a shot and see if it helps."
Sam clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. "Attaboy, Cal. You're a good man, and I know you'll figure it out. Talk to Billy, and you'll get to the bottom of this in no time." He pinched the tip of his joint off, and pocketed the remainder for later. “Now that we got that out of the way, let’s talk about something that really matters.” A lecherous twinkle gleaned in Sam’s eyes as he recounted the tales of his latest conquests, and Cal nodded from time to time, discreetly adjusting his package once a twice, with a mixture of bemusement and something else, something undefinable, coursing through his body.
As Sam finished his drink and headed out. Cal felt a renewed sense of purpose. He knew that things with Billy were still complicated, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Maybe a night out with his son was just what they needed to clear the air and figure things out.
-----
Cal walked through the front door of his house, his mind still replaying his conversation with Sam. He was determined to talk to Billy and get to the bottom of his son's strange behavior. As he stepped inside, he was surprised to find the house quiet and dark, save for a dim light coming from the living room.
He made his way down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the silence. As he approached the living room, he saw a figure sprawled out on the couch. Instantly, he recognized Billy's messy hair and lean, muscular frame. His heart sank, realizing that his son had been waiting up for him all this time.
But those thoughts were quickly dispelled when he noticed his son’s state of undress. Billy was nude, save for a jockstrap that covered his groin. His smooth skin shown in the pale light of the room’s lamps. Billy’s left hand lazily drew lines across his stomach, inching closer and closer to the straps of his jock. Feeling the heat rising to his face, Cal knew he had to say something before he got a bigger eyeful.
"Hey, Billy," he called out softly, not wanting to startle him. "You still up?"
Billy's eyes fluttered open, and he sat up slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Dad," he drawled, his voice husky and low. "Welcome home."
Cal felt his body tense, the memories of the previous night flooding back in a rush. He tried to push them aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. He needed to talk to Billy, to figure out what was going on between them and how to fix it.
"Billy, we need to talk," he said firmly, taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch. "What's going on with you? You've been acting strange lately, and I don't understand why."
Billy's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. "Strange? What do you mean, Dad?" he asked, his voice dripping with false innocence.
Cal felt a wave of frustration wash over him, but he refused to let it show. He had to stay calm, had to get to the bottom of this. "You know exactly what I mean, Billy. Don't play games with me. I want to know what's going on between us, and why you're behaving this way."
Billy leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he fixed his father with an intense stare. "Alright, Dad, if you really want to know, I'll tell you.” Billy fixed Cal with an intense stare and beckoned Cal closer. As Cal approached his youngest son, Billy spread his legs wide, inviting Cal to come between them. “I’ve always been a good kid, dad. At least I tried to be. I never did anything that I thought would make you or Mom disappointed in me.” He reached between his legs, and cupped the bulge that was forming in his jockstrap.
“But that all changed for me, dad. I met a friend, a friend who told me I didn’t have to hide myself from anyone if I didn’t want to. Not ever.” Cal watched, frozen, as Billy’s hand slid from his jock, inching further down between his legs. “He gave me this new drug. Something he said was called Libinum. He said it would release all of my inhibitions and let me be my true self. And he was right, Dad.”
Billy’s fingers drifted down into the dark crevice of his ass. “He showed me sides of myself I didn’t know existed. Like how I wanted you. It makes me want you, makes me crave your touch and your attention.” Billy’s breath hitched as a finger probed. “Even now it’s working. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now."
Cal felt the blood drain from his face, his body going cold with shock. He had known something was wrong, but he never could have imagined that it was this. With a sinking clarity, Cal began to understand the confusion he had been gripped with since yesterday. “Billy,” he said, softly, so quiet he barely heard himself speak. “Did…did you drug me last night?” For a moment, Cal thought he saw a flash of guilt pass on his son’s face, but it quickly dissipated, replaced with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Yeah, Dad. I did.” Billy openly admitted. “I kinda screwed up the dosage though. That’s why you are having problems remembering what happened.” Cal’s heart sank like a stone. His son was using drugs to make him want him, to manipulate him into submission. The idea was so shocking that he nearly convinced himself that this was another lie. But, deep down, Cal knew Billy was telling the truth, sick and twisted as it may have been.
"Billy, that's not right," he said, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his composure. "You can't use drugs to control me, to make me feel things I don't want to feel. It's not healthy, and it's not okay." The words slipped from his lips with numbness he had never felt with his son before.
Billy's expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, stalking towards his father. "It's not about control, Dad. It's about love, about finding a connection that we've never had before. Don't you see? This is our chance to be together, to experience something that neither of us has ever had before."
Cal's heart raced, his mind reeling with the implications of Billy's words. He knew that what his son was suggesting was wrong, that it went against everything he believed in. But a part of him, a part he didn't want to admit existed, was tempted by the idea.
"Billy, we can't..." he began, his voice weak and uncertain.
But Billy's lips were already on his, his hands roaming over Cal's body with a desperate hunger. Cal's resolve crumbled, and he found himself responding to his son's touch, his body betraying him even as his mind screamed in protest. He felt his son's lips on his, felt Billy’s hands exploring his body, and a surge of desire coursed through him. It was wrong, he knew that, but it also felt so good, so right.
As Billy's hands moved lower, Cal's breath hitched, his hips bucking involuntarily. Billy's fingers deftly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Cal's cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, and Billy wasted no time in wrapping his hand around it.
"Fuck, Dad," Billy groaned, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good."
Cal bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan as Billy's hand worked his shaft. He felt the same burning desire coursing through his veins, amplifying every sensation, making it impossible to resist. His hands reached out, grasping Billy's hips and pulling him closer.
"This is crazy," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "We can't...we shouldn't..."
But even as he spoke, he knew it was a lost cause. His body was betraying him, his desire for his son overwhelming any sense of reason or morality. Billy's hand continued to stroke his cock, and Cal's hips moved in time with the movement, his own hands sliding down to cup his son's ass.
"You want this, Dad," Billy whispered, his lips brushing against Cal's ear. "I can feel it. You're just as desperate for it as I am."
Cal's eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Billy's words washed over him. He couldn't deny it anymore, couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to give in to his son's desires. His hands gripped Billy’s ass hard enough to leave an imprint.
"Yes," he breathed, the word escaping his lips as if it had a life of its own. "I want this. I want you."
With those words, Cal's resistance faltered. His hands gripped Billy's hips tightly, pulling him even closer, and he thrust his hips up to meet his son's touch. Billy looked up at Cal, and whispered, “It felt so good having you inside me last night, Dad.” He pulled back from Cal and climbed onto the couch. “I can’t wait anymore. I need it again.”
Cal's mind was reeling, his body torn between his sense of moral decency and the overwhelming desire coursing through his veins. As Billy bent over, presenting himself to Cal for breeding, the older man felt a war raging within him, a battle between his head and his heart.
He had always wanted to be a good father and to set a strong example of manhood for his sons. But now, faced with the temptation of his own flesh and blood, he found himself wavering. His body screamed at him to give in to the primal urge to mate.
“Billy," he managed to choke out, his voice strained with the effort of resisting. "We can't do this. It's not right. I'm your father, for God's sake.” Billy looked back at him over his shoulder, his eyes dark with lust and desperation. "I don't care anymore, Dad," he panted, his voice thick with need. "All I know is that I want you inside me, filling me up with your seed. I need it, and I won't take no for an answer."
With a groan of defeat, Cal stepped forward, positioning himself behind Billy's upturned ass. He reached down, spreading his son's cheeks apart and exposing his tight, pink hole. The sight was almost too much to bear, and he felt a surge of heat rush through his body as he pressed the head of his cock against that forbidden entrance.
"Fuck, Billy," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "You're driving me crazy. Promise you'll tell me to stop if it gets to be too much, alright? I don't want to hurt you."
Billy nodded frantically, his whole body trembling with anticipation. "I promise, Dad. I want this so bad. Please, just give it to me. Make me yours."
With that, Cal thrust forward, his cock sinking deep into the tight heat of his son's ass. The sensation was overwhelming, the squeeze on his cock almost painful. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back as he started to move, his hips pumping in and out of Billy's willing body. Soon his thrust quickened, his large cock gliding in and out of the damp tunnel of Billy’s ass with a surprising ease. He watched as his cock stretched Billy’s hole wide, the obscene view only fanning the flames of his libido.
The room filled with the sounds of their coupling, the slap of flesh on flesh and the guttural moans of two men lost in the throes of passion. Cal knew that he was crossing a line, that he was betraying everything he held dear. But in that moment, lost in the haze of lust and desire, none of it seemed to matter.
All that mattered was the feeling of his son's tight ass gripping his cock, the knowledge that he was claiming Billy as in the most primal way possible. He moved faster, harder, driven by a desperate need to mark his territory, to leave his seed deep inside his son's body. And the harder he fucked, the more his son responded.
“Yes, Daddy," Billy encouraged him, his voice strained with pleasure. "Fuck me harder. Make me scream. I want everyone to know that I belong to you now."
Cal's only response was a feral growl as he drove himself deeper, his hips slamming against Billy's ass with a force that left them both gasping for breath. He could feel his orgasm building, his balls tightening as he neared his climax.
Seeing this raw, animalistic side of Cal seemed to trigger something in Billy. The younger man’s cries grew in volume and intensity, only to reach a crescendo. “AHHH!!!!l Billy screamed in pleasure as he orgasmed. Billy’s ass, deep in the throes of anal pleasure, convulsed and spasmed around Cal’s continued thrusts.
“Fuck, Billy," Cal panted, his voice ragged with exertion. The sight of his boy coming undone. The feel of his near hairless body shaking in pleasure. The smell of his young seed staining the sofa cushions. It was too much for Cal’s fragile mind to handle. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna come! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
With a final, desperate thrust, Cal buried himself deep inside Billy's ass, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he released his seed. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of hot, thick cum flooding Billy's insides. All the while, Billy’s young hole grasped and squeezed on Cal, drawing every drop of cum it could from the older man’s body.
When it was finally over, Cal collapsed against Billy's back, his chest heaving with exertion. He knew that he should feel guilty, should regret what he had done. But all he felt was a bone-deep satisfaction, a primal satisfaction in having claimed taken pleasure from his son’s body. Billy, face buried in the cushion below him, smiled. He grasped his father’s hand, bringing them together as one.
“You're mine now, Dad," he rasped, his lips brushing against his father’s hand. "And I'm never letting you go."
