Page 39 of His Dad Will Do
I’m beyond ready for him to leave, so I don’t make any cracks about who will be taking care of whom if I stay with his dad like he suggested. “See you around, Lance.”
I step out of his way so he can leave. He doesn’t say goodbye to his dad, which, under the circumstances, I get.
Logan has left us to our own devices and I know he’s gotta be wondering what the hell went down, but I take a minute to flop face-first down on Lance’s bed.
What the fuck am I gonna do now?
Twenty-One
Logan
It’s killing me to leave the boys alone. To leave Silas with the man who hurt him so much. To not storm into Lance’s room and demand to know what the fuck he’s doing here. To rail at him that I’d raised him better than to cheat on someone and betray their trust like he’d done to Silas.
But it’s Silas’s hurt and not mine, and if he’s going to find any closure with Lance, he’s not going to find it with me hovering over them like a…well, like a dad.
This is something I can’t fix for them. So, I stay in my bedroom while Silas pads barefoot and half-naked to confront my son downstairs and I resist the temptation to hover in the stairwell in the hopes of eavesdropping on their conversation.
Instead, I go to my bathroom and clean up. I dispose of the condom. I swipe a wet washcloth over my cock. My erection has long gone down, obviously, and I try very hard not to think about how close I was to unloading in Silas’s tight, sweet ass before my inconsiderate, self-centered son appeared in my bedroom doorway.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. Jesus Christ. My son just caught me balls-deep in his ex-boyfriend, a boy young enough to be another of my sons. And I didn’t stop fucking him when I saw him. I didn’t try to cover up or hide what we were doing. I didn’t even immediately tell him to get out of my private space.
No, instead, I put Silas on display in front of his ex-boyfriend and I made my son watch while I made his ex come. I whispered five words into Silas’s ear that I knew would make him come and I kept him impaled on my cock while he did so.
I wanted Lance to see us. I wanted him to see what this beautiful boy looks like when he comes for a man who truly appreciates him. Who loves everything about him.
And that’s the thought that makes me stare at myself in the mirror. I love Lance, despite my disappointment in his recent behavior, the way a father loves a son. And I thought I’d come to love Silas as Lance’s boyfriend, as a father-in-law would love his son’s partner.
But I love Silas the way a lover would. The way a Daddy loves his boy. And it’s not about our age difference. I can see Silas growing older, gaining confidence, growing into the lean, coltish body he has. Getting laugh lines around those pretty eyes and that pouting, fuckable mouth. Going silver at his temples or losing his hair or putting on a few pounds around his middle. Even when all these things happen, he’ll still be my boy. Even when he finds his place in the world, in the career he chooses, and makes a name for himself the way I know he will, I’ll still be his Daddy.
I have every respect for the man he is now and the man he’ll become. I don’t think of him as less than my equal because he’s twenty-five years my junior. I want to take care of him at home—and in bed—so he can go out and take care of everything else in his life.
But I don’t know if he wants that. He shouldn’t, probably. He shouldn’t tie himself to a man so much older than him. He should be out there, clubbing or whatever it is kids his age do these days. Meeting new people, testing out what he wants with men his own age. Even if the thought of Silas looking up at another man and calling him Daddy makes me so jealous I can’t see straight.
I don’t know how to tell him how I feel about him. I can’t tell him how I feel about him. Not yet, anyway. Not until he’s had some time to get over Lance.
I leave the bathroom and pull my lounge pants and T-shirt back on. I change the sheets and make the bed. I’m still waiting for the boys to finish their conversation.
There’s a burst of laughter from Lance’s room and I am dying to know what the hell is going on between them. I suppose laughter is better than shouting? I hope so.
Finally, I hear footsteps in the downstairs hall and the front door opening and closing. Lance doesn’t come to talk to me and I don’t call out to him. I hardly know what to say to him and I think we can both wait a bit before we talk. My current priority is Silas.
I give him exactly five minutes to come to me, watching the second hand ticking around the face of my watch, and when he doesn’t, I go to him.
He’s lying facedown on Lance’s bed and I can’t tell whether he’s crying or not. Hell, he could be sleeping—an adrenaline crash after the sex we’ve been having and an emotional confrontation would not be out of the realm of possibility.
I rap my knuckles on the doorframe. “Silas?”
He turns over immediately and sits up. His eyes are dry, but his hair is sticking up on one side of his head and a few strands are clinging to his other cheek.
“He’s gone.”
“I figured. Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Silas casts his eyes around Lance’s room as if looking at it for the last time, trying to fix it in his memory. “I don’t know,” he says slowly. “I got the revenge I wanted. Don’t think Lance really cared that much, though. He hasn’t wanted me for a while now.” He says it with a bitter twist to his mouth, then sighs. “Guess I’ll move my shit out of his place next week.”
“Where?” I start to ask, and Silas huffs a silent laugh, his narrow shoulders hunching forward.
“He says he came up to ask you if I could stay for a while.” He gestures at the bed he’s sitting on, the dresser that’s been in Lance’s room since he was in high school, and the shelf of sports trophies of the same vintage. “Here, I guess. I don’t think he meant in your room.” He giggles softly. “He was really surprised to find us fucking. Not even Lance could fake that expression.”
