Shoto/Endeavor – older shoto; incest; reverse daddy kink; bara appreciation – Shoto has forgiven his father but he still needs his submission.
Shoto has grown a lot, body filling out something nice, yet still nowhere near as tall or broad as his old man.
Nevertheless, he has a certain, undeniable… presence. One that makes Enji feel like he is looking up at him, even when he’s sitting astride his youngest son’s hips, bouncing on his cock like a cheap whore.
Playing his pleasured grunts up for Shoto because he’s *ordered* him to with a calm voice and self-deprecating smirk… and there’s no way Enji could just not obey.
It’s a feeling like free falling; looking down at Shoto’s face, still so young looking even well into his twenties; the burn scar slick and dark in the flickering light of Enji’s flames. Shoto is looking so calm, so centered; staring up at his father, big hands on his wide, sturdy hips, guiding him into gentle rocking motions to minimally fuck himself on his son’s cock.
It makes Enji feel like squirming. He has to glance away, and Shoto clicks his tongue in reprimand, body convulsing, easily – way too easily – flipping their positions until Enji is on his back, legs spread around his son’s hips like a common whore’s.
“I want you to look at me,” Shoto mutters. He braces himself with one arm next to Enji’s head so he can resume a slow, even fucking while his other hand grabs at his father’s thick tree trunk thighs, squeezing, then sliding up up *up*…
The flames licking in a wide triangle pattern across Enji’s chest delicately move out of the way of Shoto’s fingers, sure not to burn him as he feels up his father’s tits, and curls the digits into the thick chest hair beneath that dwindles down into a line bisecting Enji’s belly.
“There’s a good boy.”
Shoto has not always been so infuriatingly calm. Enji can still remember the moment he had changed from a crying, weak brat to this stoic man ranging above him, now.
It is Enji’s fault. Shoto has long since forgiven him. Enji hasn’t. He stares up into his son’s heterochromatic eyes, his belly feeling like it is twisting around itself all the while his insides are molten and hot; his fire stoked by Enji’s cock driving in deep and languid.
Fucking him unhurried.
Making love to him.
Enji reaches up, hesitates, watches Shoto’s calm eyes bore into him, then lets his big hands cup Shoto’s face. Shoto smirks, turns his head, presses a kiss into Enji’s palm; then he leans down, ranging above his father, touching their foreheads together until Enji’s hips are curled up into Shoto, his knees in the air, legs bracketing his son’s sides.
Helpless and at his mercy.
“D… Daddy…”
Enji’s deep voice sounds ridiculous muttering the word and he immediately flushes a hot, humiliated red.
Shoto’s eyes, so very close now, thin in amusement or pleasure. He looks like a cat with a large red spot around his left eye.
“Yeah?” he whispers back, his hand moving again, sliding along Enji’s massive bicep; tickling him beneath his arm where a thick tuft of hair is, then sliding farther own to palm his hard pec again. “You need a daddy?”
Enji grits his teeth so hard he is sure Shoto has to hear them grinding. He glances to the side, hands curling into fists above his head where he’s put them.
He’s not always allowed to touch Shoto, which is fair, he thinks. After everything that has happened.
Shoto stops his slow fucking and Enji groans, digs his head into the pillow beneath him. His cock – big and fat and sturdy like the rest of his body – flexes between them. He’s making a mess out of himself.
“Tell me,” Shoto insists, a sudden bite to his voice that hadn’t been there before. He squeezes Enji’s pec again, thumb dragging across one small, pebbled nipple. “Do you need a daddy to take care of you? You’ve been a little boy looking desperately for someone bigger and better than you to make the decisions, haven’t you?”
Enji sobs, and it startles him even more than Shoto. He had not thought he could make a sound like that. He bites his lip, hands gripping his own hair and pulling hard; the familiarity of pain giving him something to ground himself-
but then Shoto starts moving again, fucking slow, *loving*, fingers dragging across his nipple and plucking at it in light feathery touches.
“Tell me,” Shoto whispers against his trembling mouth. “Tell me. Be a good boy.”
Enji sobs again, a mighty dry gasp for air as he keeps his eyes squeezed shut, massive body trembling beneath his son; so confused as to what to feel as his body is alight with pleasure and embarrassment and sorrow.
“Y-Yes…” he finally croaks. He can feel Shoto leaning down farther, cheek pressing against Enji’s cheek, breath puffing against his ear as he murmurs: “Then say it.”
Enji takes in a deep breath, wide chest expanding until it brushes against Shoto’s, thighs trembling against his ribs.
“Daddy…Otousan…”
Shoto’s hips buck, fucking in deep and hard once before he has himself back under control, his voice deeper and rougher now as he groans into his father’s ear.
“There you go… fuck… *fuck*” He leans back up, bracing himself next to Enji’s head, staring down at him imperiously as his hips pick up speed, fucking him faster. Drilling into him.
Making Enji hiccup out pathetic little moans.
How easy it can be to just let go for once.
Cyberrat Writes 