Chapter 10: Sharing is Caring
The silence curdled. Antoine flinched at Lamar’s words, his massive shoulders hunching further, face still pressed to the sweat-slick vinyl of the bench pad. Matthew? Here? The horror of it, the utter exposure, crashed over him like ice water. He couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear to see the disgust or, worse, the arousal he suspected might be in his son’s eyes. Lamar’s seed felt impossibly hot and thick inside him, a shameful brand.
"Get up," Lamar commanded, his voice devoid of exertion now, pure authority. His hand landed heavy on Antoine’s trembling flank. "Face him. We’re not done."
Antoine pushed himself up on shaking arms, the movement agonizing, his abused hole pulsing. He kept his eyes downcast, focused on a dark smudge on the concrete floor – his own cum, he realized dully. He couldn’t meet Matthew’s gaze. He heard the soft shuffle of footsteps on the stairs. Matthew emerged from the shadows, pale, eyes wide and dark, his hand still awkwardly stuffed into the front of his jeans. He looked young, terrified, and impossibly hard.
"Look at him, Antoine," Lamar ordered, stepping back slightly but remaining close, a looming presence. "Look at your boy. Saw everything, didn’t you, Matt? Saw your big, strong daddy bent over, taking it like a cheap bitch."
Antoine’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking violently. He forced his head up, his eyes reluctantly finding Matthew’s. The raw hurt and confusion there was a physical blow. "Matthew… I…" He had no words. Only shame, hot and suffocating.
"Save it," Lamar cut him off. He gestured towards Matthew with his chin. "See how hard he is? Fucking throbbing in his pants, watching Daddy get wrecked. He wants it. Wants to play." Lamar’s voice dropped, becoming intimate, dangerous. "But he needs an invitation, Antoine. He needs you to ask him."
Antoine’s stomach lurched. "No. Lamar, please. Not him. Not Matthew." His voice was a broken rasp.
Lamar’s hand shot out, gripping the back of Antoine’s neck, fingers digging into the corded muscle. "Not a request," he hissed, yanking Antoine’s head back so he was forced to stare directly at his son. "Beg him. Beg your pretty boy son to suck my fucking dick. So I can shove it back into your greedy hole."
The words hung in the thick air. Matthew flinched, his knuckles white where he gripped his cock through his jeans. His breath came in shallow gasps.Leo. Trent. Their faces flashed in his mind – Leo’s rigid disapproval, Trent’s potential fury. Family. Ruin. But the image of his father, those powerful muscles straining, taking Lamar’s cock, the raw sounds… the heat in his own groin was an undeniable furnace.
"Matthew," Antoine choked out, tears welling, blurring his son’s horrified face. "Son… please. Do it. Please… suck his dick. For me." The humiliation was acid. "I need it. I need him… inside me again. Please, Matthew." The plea tore from him, raw and desperate, a fundamental betrayal. "Let him… fuck me… please."
Matthew stared, frozen. His father’s raw need, the utter degradation in his voice, warred violently with his own burgeoning desire and the screaming warnings in his head. Lamar’s cock, thick and glistening, still slick with his father’s ass, hung heavy between powerful thighs. The air reeked of sex and salt.
Lamar watched Matthew, that predatory smile returning. "Well, Matt? Daddy’s begging. You gonna make him wait? Or you gonna get your sweet mouth on this?"
The "or" hung unspoken, heavy with threat. Matthew saw the way Lamar’s hand tightened on his father’s neck. Saw the tremor running through Antoine’s frame. He took a jerky step forward, then another. His knees felt weak. He stopped inches from Lamar’s naked hips, the heat radiating off the man’s body, the musky, pungent scent overwhelming. He couldn’t look at his father. He focused on the thick, ruddy cock, the vein pulsing along its length, the glistening tip where Lamar’s cum had mixed with the lube and Antoine’s slick.
Matthew’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with his jeans button and zipper, freeing his own aching erection. Then, hands shaking, he reached out, his fingertips barely brushing the hot, heavy weight of Lamar’s shaft. The contact sent a jolt through him. He hesitated, the mental image of Leo’s stern face flashing again.
"Do it," Lamar growled, low and final.
Matthew closed his eyes. He lowered his head. His tongue flickered out, tentative, tasting the salty-slick mess coating the swollen head – the tang of Lamar, the faint bitter musk of his father’s ass. It was filthy. Degrading. His stomach clenched. But the taste… and the groan it ripped from Lamar… ignited something feral.
He opened his mouth wider, taking the thick head inside. The taste intensified – sweat, sex, dominance. He swirled his tongue, lapping at the slit, gathering the potent mixture. Lamar hissed, his hips giving a tiny thrust forward, pushing deeper. "Fuck yeah, that’s it. Taste where I’ve been, boy. Taste your daddy’s hole."
Antoine watched, a choked sob escaping him, tears tracking through the sweat on his cheeks. Seeing his son’s lips stretched around Lamar’s cock, taking in the very essence of his own violation… it was a new circle of hell. Yet, his own spent cock twitched feebly.
Matthew gagged slightly as Lamar pushed deeper, the thick shaft hitting the back of his throat. He pulled back, gasping, saliva stringing from his lips to the glistening cock. He glanced up, his eyes meeting his father’s for a fleeting, agonized second. The raw pain there… and something else. A terrible, mirrored hunger.
"Your turn, old man," Lamar commanded, releasing Antoine’s neck and nudging him forward roughly. "Show your boy how a real cocksucker does it. Clean this mess off."
Antoine moved forward on trembling legs, driven by ingrained obedience and a perverse, desperate need for proximity to the source of his own undoing. He knelt beside Matthew, the concrete cold and unforgiving against his bare knees. He stared at Lamar’s cock, slick with Matthew’s saliva now, mingling with the remnants of himself.
He leaned in, his movements stiff. His tongue, broad and strong, swept up the underside of Lamar’s shaft in a long, deliberate stroke, gathering the combined fluids. The taste exploded on his tongue – his son’s spit, Lamar’s musk, his own shame. He moaned around the taste, the vibration making Lamar grunt. Antoine took the head into his mouth, his experienced lips sealing tight, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked fiercely, cleaning his son’s saliva and his own residue from the crown.
Matthew watched, mesmerized and horrified. His father’s mouth, usually set in a stern, stoic line, was stretched obscenely, working Lamar’s cock with desperate focus. He saw the tears still leaking from his father’s closed eyes, saw the powerful muscles in his jaw working. The sight was devastating. Intoxicating. Without conscious thought, Matthew leaned closer, his own mouth seeking the base of Lamar’s shaft where Antoine’s lips ended.
Their heads bumped. Antoine flinched, his eyes snapping open, meeting Matthew’s just inches away over Lamar’s groin. Lamar’s cock pulsed between them. The air crackled. Matthew saw the raw vulnerability, the broken pride, the undeniable arousal in his father’s tear-filled eyes. Something primal overrode every shred of reason, every societal taboo.
Matthew surged forward, not towards the cock, but towards his father’s mouth. His lips crashed against Antoine’s, hard, messy, tasting the salt of tears and the potent, bitter tang of Lamar on his father’s tongue. Antoine froze for a split second, a muffled sound of shock vibrating in his throat. Then, with a desperate groan that was half-sob, half-need, he kissed him back.
It was frantic. Deep. Tongues clashed and slid, sharing the taste of Lamar, sharing their shared degradation and secret, forbidden hunger. Antoine’s large, rough hand came up, tangling in Matthew’s hair, pulling him closer. Matthew moaned into the kiss, his own hands finding his father’s sweat-slicked shoulders, feeling the immense power contained there, power that Lamar had utterly conquered. They kissed with a bruising intensity, lost in the vortex of shame and desire Lamar had orchestrated, their tongues exploring with a hunger that went beyond rational thought.
Above them, Lamar watched, his hand resting possessively on Antoine’s head, the other gripping Matthew’s shoulder. His smile was triumphant, darkly satisfied. He looked down at the father and son locked in a passionate, desperate kiss while servicing him, their shared submission complete, their boundaries obliterated. He gave his cock a slow, deliberate stroke between their fevered faces.
"Good boys," he purred, the sound rich with dark amusement. "Now… let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes." His hips pushed forward, his thick head nudging insistently against the tangle of their lips.