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It’s 12 AM and Miles has yet to sleep. He lays on his stomach, arms propping him up with his 3DS clutched tightly in both hands. The faint sounds of Mario Kart 7 can be heard amidst the background buzz of Brooklyn. The screen casts a dim glow across his face.
“Come on, come on!” he grumbles, quietly. For the past ten minutes he’s been getting his ass beat by Princess Peach. But now, finally, he’s in first place. He gives a quick glance to the bottom screen, and realizes there was one last turn before he can gun it for the finish line. His heart begins to pound. He carefully positions his finger to hover over the R button, preparing to drift at the perfect moment. An alarm sounds on his speaker.
Oh no.
Oh no.
“No, no, no, no, no!” A spiked blue shell circles around his car. He watches helplessly as the shell crashes into Yoshi, squandering all the progress Miles had made. He slams his hands against the bed.
“FUCK!” The word comes out of Miles’s mouth louder than what he had intended. He freezes. His finger flicks the volume slider all the way down. He holds his breath and strains to hear any sign of his parents waking up. His heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest, angry at the lack of oxygen, but Miles doesn’t dare breathe. Not yet. He waits a few more moments.
Silence.
He lets out the breath he’d been holding. Thank god, no one woke-
The floorboards down the hall creak. Miles snaps the 3DS shut and shoves it under his pillow. Hurriedly, he grabs his blanket and throws it over himself, tucking into a fetal position facing the wall. He shuts his eyes and wills himself to take deep, slow breaths. The footsteps get closer. It’s a heavy shuffling of bare feet against wood that tells Miles his father is awake. The 3DS sized lump under his pillow feels larger than it is. Distantly, he remembers vague threats about taking the game system away if it disrupted his sleep. Miles prays that his accidental shout didn’t wake up his dad. The footsteps stop outside of Miles’ room. There’s a soft click as the door opens, then shuts. Jeff says nothing. Miles feels the weight of his father’s eyes, boring holes on his back. He wills himself to take another slow, deep breath.
It’s an eternity before his dad moves again. The cautious shuffling sounds impossibly loud, drowning out any and all other sounds. Anxiety shoots through Miles’ veins. What if his act wasn’t convincing enough? What if dad takes his 3DS? His chest feels heavy at the thought of having to wait months before he can play games again. He just got it for his birthday too! He thinks about all the begging and pleading he did, all the trouble his uncle went through to finally, finally convince his father to let Miles get one for his birthday. He takes another breath. He absolutely cannot afford to get caught right now.
His father finally reaches the bed, his large figure looming over Miles. Under Jeff's watchful gaze, Miles becomes acutely aware of every muscle in his body. There’s an unnatural rigidness that starts to set in; a sort of instinct to completely still his body in hopes that he won’t be seen. His heart hammers wildly against his ribs. For a moment, he thinks it might beat out of his chest. Breathe, he reminds himself. He inhales, holds the air in his lungs for a few moments, then exhales with an audible sigh. He continues to focus on his breathing, waiting for his father to either call his bluff or leave. It’s an agonizing moment. Miles is half ready to “wake up” when he feels a soft touch on his face.
Huh.
That’s…not what he was expecting. Maybe from his mom, sure, but not his dad. It’s nice, though. A rhythmic brush of knuckles against his cheek. The motion is relaxing enough to actually start putting him to sleep. He's just on the brink when it stops. There's a slight creak as the bed dips under his father's weight. A warm hand feels its way over the blanket to touch the back of Miles's thigh.
Ah, that's more familiar.
Miles feels relieved that he didn’t wake Jeff up. In fact, now he feels almost giddy with excitement. Since he had turned 11 last month, Jeff had been sneaking into his room to touch him, something Miles dubbed the “late night visits”. Usually, Miles would wake up after his dad got started, but he never made it known. He’s positive Jeff would never come back if he knew Miles was awake.
The hand on his thigh moves up towards his ass, palming at the soft flesh. Miles’s heart is pounding for a different reason now. A heat starts to form in the pit of his stomach as Jeff fondles him. Wanting to speed the process along, he rolls on to his back, pushing the covers off the top half of his body, right hand repositioned under the front of his shirt. He purposefully catches the hem in the space between his thumb and index then slides the hand just above his belly button. His left arm rests on the pillow above his head. There’s a sharp intake of breath and Miles wishes he could open his eyes to see the look on his dad’s face.
Instead, he is rewarded with the feeling of fingertips lightly gliding along his stomach. He struggles against the urge to shrink away, instead forcing his body to stay relaxed. All seems to be going well until Jeff’s fingers lift away. For a few terrifying seconds, Miles wonders if his father figured out he was awake. His mind quiets when the fingers return. They start at his left hip, traces the line of skin along the waistband of his boxers to meet his right hip, then drags back to the left. Back and forth, back and forth. The movement makes the heat in his gut grow larger and larger until it’s spilling towards his groin. He wants to push Jeff’s hand in his boxers so badly, but all he can do is lay there and wait.
Finally, Miles feels his father’s hand slip under the elastic and gently cups him. His breath hitches. The feeling of Jeff’s hand, impossibly large and hot, makes his cock twitch. Jeff reacts accordingly. He rubs his palm against the underside until Miles is fully hard. Miles moans.
The hand between his legs stops. It's obvious now that Jeff is checking to see if he's awake. Miles knows this part though, has woken up to the fondling enough times to know how to just enough to him to start again. He brings his breathing back to an even pace and waits. It doesn’t take long for his father’s hands to return. This time, they pull at his boxers, moving them just enough to expose his cock. He’s cold for a moment, then feels something warm and wet. It isn’t until he feels lips pressed against his pelvis that he realizes it’s Jeff’s mouth. When Jeff started to suck, Miles’ hips twitched. Electricity was shooting up his spine. It was overwhelming, bordering on painful. Too much, yet not enough.
Over the intense feeling, he notices his father shifting once again. There’s an aggravated huff, then his dick is out in the cold. He hears the rustling of clothing before the bed dips again. He feels the heat of hands near his head and legs near his hips. Something fuzzy touches the tip of his cock and he’s swallowed into wet heat again. He can’t stop eyes from popping open. Jeff hovers above him, balanced on all fours, mouth open, and eyes closed. He moves his gaze down, staring at where he and his father were connected. Miles had vague memories of what his dad looked like when he was very little, but none of those compared to what he’s seeing now. Poking out from the folds and dark hair, there was a nub. Dad’s cock. An impulse to stroke Jeff runs through him, but he quickly dismisses it.
Jeff moves. He rocks his hips gently, yet firmly. Miles watches the way Jeff’s cock pulses when it rubs just the right way against his pelvis. There’s panting in his ear. His father goes a bit faster, a bit harder. A quiet whimper rushes past Miles’ lips when he feels Jeff’s pussy clamp down tighter. His hands fly up to clutch at his dad’s hips, nails biting into the skin.
Jeff’s eyes snap open. He looks shocked, then horrified.
“M-Miles? Your-” His statement is cut off with a low moan when Miles takes his cock between lithe fingers and strokes.
“Please-Please don’t stop.” Miles presses his hips harder against Jeff, trying to physically convey how much he wanted this. There’s still a conflict going on behind his father’s eyes, but his hips don’t stop moving.
They rut together. It’s erratic at first, Miles still learning the tempo, but when he gets it, he feels that heat in his belly burning with a vengeance. Every movement kindles the flames hotter and hotter. He can’t catch his breath and every muscle in his body winds up tighter and tighter.
It feels like he’s dying. His vision goes dark and he swears his heart stops beating. All he can feel is the flames bursting into a pleasant tingling buzz that washes over him. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Miles doesn’t know how long he lays there, drunk off a new bliss, but when he comes to he’s greeted by the sight of Jeff vigorously rubbing himself. His eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed in concentration. His breath comes out in ragged pants, punching their way out of his lungs. Miles watches with rapt attention, cataloging every expression, every sound. When his dad finally cums, he wishes he was able to capture it in his sketchbook. It’s beautiful, the way Jeff’s mouth hangs open, the way he shivers and shakes with each wave of pleasure that rolls through him. Miles does everything he can to burn every detail of this moment into his memory.
His dad eventually flops to the side, nearly squashing Miles on the too small twin bed. It’s quiet between the two of them. Miles is starting to nod about when Jeff speaks.
“We’ll have to talk about this.”
“I know.” Miles grumbles, unhappy at the prospect of having such a loaded conversation right now.
“Not tonight….but soon.”
“Okay,” Miles agrees sleepily, “Soon.”
His father smiles at him. He wraps Miles in his arms, cradling his head against his chest
“Sleep,” Jeff says, planting a kiss on his forhead. Miles nods and drifts to sleep in the comfort of his father’s arms.