Chapter 10: Sexy Texty
Eddie's key fumbled in his apartment door, his skin still buzzing from the afternoon in Robert's study. The leather and tobacco scent clung to his clothes. He collapsed onto his couch, the emptiness of the place now a physical weight. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering before tapping out the message.
Thank you for today. For everything. I appreciate you so much, x.
He held his breath. The three dots appeared almost instantly. Then:
My boy, you are a delight and you are welcome. The only downside to this arrangement is the time between our meetings, x.
Seeing those words, starkly white on the dark screen, somehow made it even more real. The emotions welling up in Eddie surprised him. It wasn't just lust. It was a profound ache. Tears pricked at his eyes. He felt the warm glow of a developing love, but also the sharp, hollow emptiness of not being with Robert right now. He was in his apartment, alone, and Robert was in that big house, just a few miles away yet utterly separate.
I feel the same, Eddie replied, his fingers feeling thick and clumsy. Are we still on for our match tomorrow, before my date? He added a cheeky grinning emoji.
Robert sent back an eggplant emoji, then a love heart emoji.
Eddie grinned delightedly and responded with a heart emoji himself, clutching the phone to his chest for a long moment.
---
The next morning, Eddie woke in his lumpy bed. The grey dawn light did nothing to lift the sense of solitude. He reached for his phone on the nightstand to check the time, and his heart leaped into his throat. There was a message notification from Robert, sent just twenty minutes ago.
Good morning son, I hope you slept well. I woke this morning wishing you were next to me and wanted to let you know. I hope that's ok and I hope your day goes smoothly.
Tears pricked his eyes again, a warmth flooding his heart and his cock thickening almost painfully beneath the sheets. This was new. This was everything. He typed back, his vision blurry.
Waking up to your message is the best thing ever. I miss you too. So does he.
He angled the phone down, snapped a quick, close-up picture of his hard, leaking erection nestled in his pubic hair, and sent it.
The response was swift. A picture of Robert's own thick, veined cock protruding from the opening of a dark silk robe, the broad, hairy fist loosely encircling the base. He says hi back, the text read.
Then another text immediately after. Cum hard for me son, but save some for later, with a winking, kissing-with-a-heart face emoji.
Eddie took himself in hand. The grip felt different now, knowing Robert’s eyes were on this very image. He squeezed the shaft, thumbing the slick head. He let his mind go back, recalling the previous day with perfect clarity: the taste of Robert’s lips, the salty, musky smell of his armpit as Eddie nuzzled there, the incredible, surrendering pressure of Robert’s big cock sliding into his mouth as he sat at Robert's feet. He pictured Robert’s face, those intense eyes looking down at him with a mix of possession and genuine tenderness.
“Fuck, Daddy,” Eddie whispered into the quiet room, his hips bucking into his own grip. It was Robert’s name on his lips as the orgasm tore through him. Thick, white ropes shot up onto his stomach and chest. He gasped, shuddering.
He took a photo, the semen pooling in the valley of his abs. For you, Daddy xxx.
The reply came a minute later. A picture of Robert’s broad, weathered hand glistening with his own pearly spend. For you, Son x. Have a good day x.
You too, x, Eddie sent back. A large, stupidly happy smile plastered on his face, he headed to the shower. The hot water sluiced away the physical evidence, but the feeling remained—a glowing ember in his core.
---
That evening, Eddie stood on the familiar porch, an hour early for his date with Mary-Jane. He was nervous, but it was a clean nervousness. The door swung open and MJ stood there, beaming in a simple summer dress.
“Hey, stranger!” she said, stepping forward to kiss him.
He met her halfway, the kiss chaste but warm, and he was pleased, and frankly relieved, to find he was genuinely excited to see her. His body responded on its old, familiar track. She felt soft and smelled sweet. He wanted her as much as ever. He’d worried, deep down, that his time with Robert might dull that, might rewire him entirely. It hadn’t. It was just… more.
“You look amazing,” he said, and meant it.
“Thanks! I’ll ready at our agreed time, so you've got about an hour. Dad’s in his study. Unless you want to leave earlier?”
“No, no, we've got some catching up to do. Workout stuff,” Eddie said, feigning nonchalance.
“Okay. I’ll be down in a while!” she said, skipping back up the stairs.
Eddie waited until he heard her bedroom door click shut. Then he walked down the hall. The study door was open a crack, a sliver of warm, lamp-lit room visible. He pushed it open.
Robert was in his armchair, a book open but forgotten on his lap. He’d been waiting.
Robert saw him, closed the book, and rose. It wasn't the slow, deliberate movement of the older man, but a quick, powerful unfolding. He crossed the distance in three long strides. Eddie pushed the door closed behind him, the soft click of the latch like a starting pistol.
They collided. Robert’s arms, thick and strong, wrapped around Eddie’s back, crushing him. Eddie’s face buried into Robert’s neck, inhaling the deeply familiar scent of skin and faint cologne and man. Then Robert’s mouth was on his, hot and demanding. It wasn't a greeting kiss; it was a claiming.
Eddie moaned into it, his hands scrabbling at Robert’s broad shoulders, then tunneling into his thick hair. Their tongues dueled, wet and desperate. Eddie could feel the hard ridge of Robert’s erection already pressing against his hip through his trousers.
“My boy,” Robert muttered, tearing his mouth away to suck a bruise onto Eddie’s throat.
“My Daddy,” Eddie gasped back, arching into the mouth on his skin. His own cock was straining, painfully hard. He ground himself against Robert’s thigh. Robert’s hands, soft yet powerful, grasped Eddie’s ass, pulling him even tighter into the hard line of his body. Eddie could feel the warmth of Robert’s chest, the frantic rhythm of his heart. Everything seemed sharp and bright, a frenetic humming beneath his skin. He wanted it all, right now. He wanted everything, on the couch, the desk, the floor.
Robert pulled back just a fraction, his breath hot on Eddie’s wet lips. One large hand rose to cradle Eddie’s face, a thumb stroking his cheekbone. Robert’s gaze was a deep, searching lake.
“Hey,” Robert said, his voice softer now. “You okay? You seem… distressed, son. Wound up.”
The question sliced through the red haze. Eddie’s jaw worked. Words swarmed and dissolved before they could form.
“I… I just…” he started, his voice a tight rasp. His eyes darted away, ashamed of the sudden surge of emotion, the confusing cocktail of lust and vulnerability and aching want. He felt exposed, and this feeling, even with Robert, was terrifying.
“Hey. Look at me.” Robert’s voice was firm, grounding.
He guided Eddie’s face back, forcing that eye contact. Robert waited, his own gaze steady, patient, holding a space for whatever needed to spill out. Eddie’s lip trembled.
“Tell me,” Robert said.
Eddie swallowed hard. A tear finally broke free, tracking a hot path down his cheek.
“I… fuck,” he stammered, squeezing his eyes shut then forcing them open again. “I need you.”
Robert didn't move for a second. His breathing hitched. Forcing himself to focus, Eddie saw a shimmer in Robert’s eyes too, a welling of moisture that magnified the deep brown.
“Not as much as I need you,” Robert whispered, the words thick with a truth that seemed to bruise them both.
He leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, their breath mingling, their bodies pressed from knee to chest in a shuddering equilibrium.
“Okay,” Robert murmured after a long moment. His hands moved to Eddie’s belt. “Pants off. Right now.” He began unfastening his own with practised, urgent movements.
Eddie fumbled with his button and zip, pushing his jeans and boxers down in one clumsy motion, kicking them off his ankles. Robert had already done the same, his own heavy erection springing free, thick and damp-tipped. Taking Eddie’s hand, Robert pulled him down onto the thick wool rug before the dark expanse of the desk.
The air was cool on their heated skin, the rough fibres grounding against Eddie’s back. Robert positioned them head-to-toe, a mirror image.
“No thinking now,” Robert’s voice came from below, a low rumble near Eddie’s hip. “Don’t try. Just do. Let what happens happen.”
Eddie looked down the length of his own body to see Robert’s face, his intense eyes now level with Eddie’s cock. The silent instruction was clear, and immediate. His own mouth watered as he turned his head and saw, within kissing distance, the musky, substantial weight of Robert’s cock. Without another thought, he opened his mouth and leaned forward, his tongue flattening against the base of the shaft, as he simultaneously felt the wet, hot seal of Robert’s lips engulf his own weeping head.
The sound Eddie made was a choked sob of pure, electrifying sensation. For a suspended second, it was impossible to distinguish between the feeling of his cock being pulled into the tight, sucking heat of Robert’s mouth and the taste, the reality, of Robert’s cock in his own. It was a perfect, impossible circuit. He licked, a broad, hungry stroke up the prominent vein on the underside, and was rewarded by a deep vibration of a groan that travelled from Robert’s throat directly onto his own straining flesh.
He took more, his lips stretching around the girth, his spit slicking the way. He suckled the heavy, furred balls, and Robert’s own mouth abandoned his shaft to lap and suck fiercely at Eddie’s, drawing a long, guttural cry from his gut. They were not two acts, but one continuous, flowing river of sensation. Eddie fucked up into the wet heat of Robert’s mouth, his hips rising off the rug, as he himself took as much of Robert as he could with a frantic, gagging hunger. Pre-cum and saliva dripped down their chins, glistening in the lamplight.
It was not tidy. Their legs were all angles, their bodies squirmed for better positions, their rhythm falling apart into something chaotic and perfect. Eddie’s world narrowed to the smell of clean male skin and sex, the salt-bitter taste flooding his tongue, the obscene, wet sounds of their mutual consumption, and the tidal pull of pleasure radiating from his cock into the very core of him. He worshiped that cock, that body, with a devotion that felt religious, mindless.
His jaw ached. His throat was raw. The initial desperate fury began to shift, banked by the profound intimacy of the act itself. Now he languished, taking long, slow pulls, swirling his tongue around the fat head, savouring the weight on his tongue. He felt Robert doing the same, the movements gentler now, a tender mapping. They were adrift together. The need was no less urgent, but it was deeper, a vast ocean of connection they were only just beginning to explore. They stayed like that, for minutes, for an eternity, suspended in the circuit they had created, wanting nothing more than the feel of each other, the giving and the taking, the simple truth of it to last.
Robert pulled away first, his breathing ragged, but a low, rueful chuckle escaped him. "Fucking hell, boy." His voice was shredded. "My hip is killing me."
Eddie released him with a wet pop, panting, his own body humming like a live wire."Sorry. Sorry, Daddy."
"Don’t be," Robert grunted, rolling onto his back beside him on the rug. He stared at the coffered ceiling, his broad chest heaving. "Worth every damn creak."
For a moment, they just existed, side by side in a puddle of shared breath. Then Robert pushed himself up onto an elbow."Come here." He shifted, groaning a little as his joints protested. He scooted back until his spine was against the solid oak front of the massive desk. He stretched his thick legs out straight on the rug, the grey hair dusting his muscular thighs glistening faintly with sweat.
He patted his lap. "Straddle me."
Eddie moved without thought, the command settling into his muscles. He crawled over, his own cock bobbing, slick and impossibly hard. He swung a leg over Robert’s legs, lowering himself to settle his weight onto the older man’s solid thighs. Their erections, wet from mouths and pre-cum, bumped together, a hot, slippery contact that made Eddie gasp.
Robert’s big hands enveloped them both. He didn’t stroke, not yet. He just held them, squeezed them together into a single, throbbing column of heat, his fists a firm, tight channel. His other hand came up to cup the back of Eddie’s neck, guiding him down.
Eddie leaned in, needing no further invitation. He initiated the kiss, plunging his tongue into Robert’s waiting mouth. It was deep, consuming, wet. Their tongues slid and tangled, a thick, desperate dance. Robert yielded control of the kiss completely, letting Eddie explore and dominate his mouth, while his own focus remained below, his hand beginning a slow, twisting slide up and down their trapped shafts.
The sensation was unbelievable. Eddie moaned into Robert’s mouth. The combined friction, the feeling of Robert’s larger cock alongside his own, the slickness, the possessive grip—it coiled a spring in his gut tighter and tighter. He fucked up into Robert’s fist, his hips stuttering.
"Close," Eddie gasped, tearing his mouth away, resting his forehead against Robert’s. "I’m so close, Daddy."
Robert nodded, his own breathing a harsh rasp. His strokes became quicker, more urgent. "Me too, son."
Then Robert tilted his head, his lips brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear. His whisper was hot, filthy, and precise."Imagine it. Imagine us both fucking her. That pretty, puffy, wet little pussy of hers." His hand worked faster, a blur of motion. "One cock underneath, one on top. Stretching her wide open. Filling her up together."
He bit Eddie’s earlobe. "Imagine flooding her with our cum at the same time. Pumping it so deep inside her she’d feel it for days."
Eddie’s mind short-circuited. The image, Robert’s crude, vivid words, the frantic friction on his cock—it all detonated at once.
"Fuck!" he screamed, a raw, shattered sound.
His orgasm wasn't a release; it was an explosion. Thick white jets erupted, splattering over Robert's chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt, painting streaks across his neck. At the same moment, Robert grunted, a deep, guttural sound, and Eddie felt the hot, wet pulses against his own shaft as Robert’s cum joined the mess, adding to the slick chaos trapped in his fist.
They shuddered violently against each other, their bodies locked in a final, trembling clasp until the last aftershocks faded.
Eddie slumped forward, breathless, his face buried in Robert’s damp shoulder. Slowly, Robert brought his cum-smeared hands up between them. He offered one, palm up. Then Robert raised his other hand and each brought one to their mouth, licking their collective spend from Robert's fingers. They fell into a final, deep kiss, tasting themselves, each other, salt and bitterness and completion fully mingled.
Their desires calmed, replaced by a heavy, sated warmth. Eddie sat back, his face relaxed, an easy smile on his lips. He noticed the same expression on Robert, a softness in his features that was rarely seen.
"That…" Eddie panted slightly. "That’ll do it."
"You’re phenomenal," Robert said, his voice gruff with unabashed emotion.
"Only because I’m learning from a phenomenal man," Eddie retorted, the love in his voice unmistakable.
"Thank you, son."
Robert gave him a final, gentle pat on the thigh. Eddie, his limbs loose, moved himself off Robert’s legs and stood, offering a hand. He hauled the bigger man up with a grunt of effort. Robert went to the bookshelf and pulled the spine of a specific book and it swung inward, revealing the small, tiled wet room.
He returned a moment later with two steaming white washcloths. He handed one to Eddie. In a comfortable, familiar silence, they cleaned each other. Robert tenderly wiped Eddie’s softened cock, his heavy balls, checking carefully. He then inspected Eddie’s shirt, turning him slightly by the shoulder.
"Good. No stains. You can keep it on for your date."
They dressed in silence, the earlier frenzy now a quiet hum. Robert sank into his worn leather armchair with a satisfied sigh. Eddie moved towards the opposite chair.
"Here," Robert said, patting his lap.
Eddie didn't hesitate. He crossed the small space and climbed into Robert’s embrace, settling sideways, his head on Robert’s broad shoulder. Robert’s arms encircled him, solid and safe.
They sat for a long while, listening to the quiet house, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the tick of a clock. Robert finally broke the silence, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
"What are we going to do about this, young man?" he asked, his fingers tracing idle circles on Eddie’s arm. "Being without you is practically unacceptable."
"I know," Eddie murmured into his shirt. "It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It’s not that I’m in love with you in the flirty, dating, you’re-super-neat way." He paused, gathering the truth. "It’s like you’re everything to me. Father, teacher, mentor, lover, master. It’s bigger than anything."
He felt Robert’s breath catch, his hold tightening just a fraction.
"You said it perfectly, son," Robert whispered, his lips against Eddie’s hair. "You’re like the son I never had, the student I always hoped for, the lover I have craved. But, like you say, it is huge. And that’s overwhelming. The question is, how much do we give to it, given what the rest of our lives hold for us?"
The weight of it settled between them, not unpleasant, but vast and complex.
"And," Eddie added, shifting slightly. "This isn’t an exclusion of MJ. When I saw her, I still wanted her. But…"
"But?"Robert encouraged gently.
Eddie swallowed. "It’s really fucking greedy and crazy, but I want all of it. What you said… about us both cumming inside her. I fucking want that." He lifted his head to meet Robert’s gaze, his brown eyes earnest and hungry. "Did you mean it?"
Robert held his look, his expression utterly serious, devoid of any joke. "Every single word."
The statement hung in the still, book-scented air, final and immense. It shimmered between them with the magnitude of a vow. Eddie let out a long, shuddering breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. A path had just been laid, not across a map, but through the tangled undergrowth of their desires.
Eddie held Robert’s gaze then, the world narrowing to the older man’s deep-set eyes. The honesty there was magnetic, yet his mind gnawed at the edges of this sprawling reality. He knew they needed to talk more. It wasn’t suspicion, exactly, but a dawning comprehension of the unspoken architecture holding everything up. How did a man construct this? Where were the load-bearing walls? He’d only known Robert a short time, and MJ only slightly longer. Robert had entered her life as an adult, her stepfather. She seemed luminous, genuinely happy. From his limited view, she was well-adjusted. But maybe it was darker than he knew. Beneath that bright energy, maybe there were shadows, a coercion he couldn’t see. The point, he realised with a cold clarity, was that he simply didn’t know.
He searched Robert’s face, but Robert was the one who looked away first, a hot flush creeping up his neck and into his beard-rough cheeks. The vulnerability of it was startling. This solid man, shrinking.
Gently, Eddie put a hand on Robert’s jaw and guided his face back. His thumb stroked the flushed skin. “It’s okay,” Eddie said, his voice low. “I know we need to talk about this. I need to understand.” He chose his next words with care, aiming for the absurd to defuse the tension without dismissing the gravity. “But unless you’re drugging her into being your sex slave or using hypnosis or some shit, I’m good with it. Really.”
Robert’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded, just once, his eyes glistening. “It… it is complicated,” he rasped. “And I do want to talk to you about it. I’ve wanted to since you walked in here. I was just… I worried it would drive you away.” A tear escaped, tracking a slow path through his stubble.
Eddie’s heart clenched. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m not going anywhere.” The conviction in his own voice surprised him. “Fuck, Robert, I’d move in if you’d let me.”
There was a flash of something on Robert’s face—a wild, naked hope that was instantly shuttered, covered by a soft smile. He pulled Eddie in, not for a passionate claim, but for a gentle, lingering kiss. It tasted of salt and relief. “Thank you,” Robert said, the words earnest, stripped bare. “If you have time after your date, I’d like to tell you. All of it.”
“The shop’s closed tomorrow,” Eddie said, a flutter of anticipation in his gut. “I don’t have to be anywhere.”
“Wonderful.” Robert gave Eddie’s thigh a firm pat, the signal to stand. As Eddie rose, Robert tapped a quick message on his phone screen, his expression shifting into something more pragmatic, though his eyes were still damp. “I honestly feel,” he began, looking up, “that I shouldn’t be dictating your relationship with Mary-Jane anymore.” He held up a hand before Eddie could respond. “However. I know we agreed you would take things slowly. Over the sweater for this date, under the sweater for the next one. Agreed?”
“Absolutely agreed,” Eddie said, nodding. A genuine smile touched his lips. “I’m excited to move on with her, for sure. But you’ve helped me see that rushing into things doesn’t necessarily make it better.” He paused, the next admission surfacing from a newly examined place. “Especially with my… background with women. I don’t think I treated them very well, to be honest.”
Robert stood, placing his broad hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “You did the best you could with what you knew at the time,” he said, the phrase sounding practiced, a favourite quote offered as a balm.
Eddie thought about it, the simple truth of it settling something uneasy within him. “Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
A moment later, the study door burst open. Mary-Jane flowed in, a current of bright, soft energy in a cream-colored sweater and jeans. “Alright, you lumberjack gatekeeper,” she announced, hands on her hips, a playful smirk on her face. “Stop keeping my man for yourself. Our date is officially starting.”
Robert chuckled, a rich, warm sound that restored the room’s equilibrium. MJ slid into the space on the other side of Eddie. He found himself standing with Robert’s heavy hand on his left hip and MJ’s slender one on his right. He was bracketed by them, a point of connection. Heat from both palms seeped through his shirt. He felt a dizzying, profound sense of belonging. He couldn’t imagine a better place to be.
“Right,” Eddie said, grinning at MJ. “Let’s get going. That mini-golf isn’t going to get crazy by itself!”
Two and a half hours later, Eddie’s car idled softly a street away from her house, as per MJ's instruction. The neon glow of the mini-golf course was a memory, replaced by the quiet darkness of the suburban street, punctuated by pools of orange from the streetlights. The air in the car was warm, thick with the sugar-scent of shared soda and the quiet tension of the unspoken next step.
They removed their seatbelts with a synchronized rustle. The mechanisms clicked back into their housings, the sound final. They shifted towards each other across the worn fabric of the bench seat. MJ turned, tucking one leg beneath her, an eager, knowing smile playing on her lips. It was an open, inviting expression, free of the games he’d come to expect from past encounters.
Eddie felt the weight of the boundary Robert had set, but also the freedom within it. He wasn’t following a script of his own frantic making. He could be present. He reached out, not for her body, but for her face. His fingertips, calloused from wrenches, traced the delicate line of her jaw. They brushed over the softness of her cheek, finally coming to rest on her lower lip. He stroked the fullness of it, feeling her warm breath against his skin.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He ghosted his lips over hers, once, twice, a faint flutter of contact. He felt her sigh, a gentle exhalation that parted her lips slightly. He let her come to him. She closed the last millimetre, pressing her mouth to his in a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. It was she who initiated the deepening, her tongue darting out to taste his lips.
Then, he pushed in further himself. The kiss opened, becoming warmer, wetter. It was exploratory, not hungry. His hand left her face and drifted down, settling on the curve of her waist through her soft sweater. He could feel the heat of her, the gentle flare of her hip. He let his palm rest there, a steady weight, as their tongues learned the terrain of each other’s mouths.
His first real step forward in this quest—now infinitely more complicated and profound than when he’d begun it—was the slow migration of that hand. It travelled up her side, over the ribbed knit of her sweater, with deliberate slowness. He felt the firm line of her ribs, then the softening swell beneath. He cupped her breast fully, his large mechanic’s hand encompassing it through the fabric. He didn’t squeeze or knead. He held. He absorbed the feel of its weight, the faint, hard bead of her nipple pressing into the centre of his palm.
A soft moan vibrated from her throat into his mouth. He remembered Robert’s teaching, the lesson of attention over action. He broke the kiss, his lips travelling to her jawline, then down the column of her throat. He nuzzled the hollow there, inhaling her clean, floral scent. His thumb, meanwhile, began a slow, rhythmic circles over her nipple through the sweater. Not fast. Not hard. A persistent, maddening tease.
“Eddie…” she whispered, her head tilting back against the headrest.
He switched to his other hand, keeping the same steady, circular pressure. He kissed his way back to her mouth, capturing her gasp. His free hand went to her other breast, mirroring the motion. He could feel the fabric growing damp under his thumbs from the heat of her skin and the tightening peaks. He varied the pressure, sometimes light as a breath, sometimes firm enough to make her arch subtly towards him.
He used the knowledge Robert had gifted him—the knowledge of how to build a wave instead of sparking a firecracker. He paid attention to her breathing, to the tiny jerks of her hips, to the way her fingers clutched at his shoulders. He wasn’t trying to get somewhere. He was trying to keep her right here, hovering on a trembling edge of pure sensation. His own arousal was a deep, throbbing baseline, but it was compartmentalized, fuel for his focus on her.
His hands moved again, one sliding around to the small of her back, pulling her closer so their bodies aligned from chest to thigh. The other hand remained on her breast, his touch now more possessive, his fingers gently kneading the soft flesh. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her little whimpers. She squirmed against him, not in protest, but in a helpless, pleasurable agitation. Every shift of her body, every hitched breath, was a silent testament to the raw power of simple, deliberate attention. He held her there, in that delicious friction, until the windows were fogged and her nails were pressing half-moons into the leather of his jacket.