"Morning dad" Andrew said, glancing up from his bowl of cereal as Jim entered the kitchen in his officer's uniform. A day rotation today, then.
"Uh... mornin' son. What's going on today?" Jim said, looking everywhere but at Andrew. He was hulking, enormous in the uniform. He made his way hesitantly to the counter and began filling his thermos with coffee.
Andrew was thinking about the muscles that lay beneath the Kevlar. God, he missed that body, that cock.
In the days following that fateful encounter, things had been a bit awkward. Andrew knew they were both wondering: What next? And out of that ambiguity had come the current normal: Andrew watching and waiting for the submissive slutty side of his father to win out, Jim consciously avoiding him at every turn. Jim didn't initiate, never sought him out.
But something had fundamentally shifted. Now that Andrew's father knew he was being dominated by his own son, now that it was out in the open, it was nearly impossible for Andrew to control his urges. Every day, he had to prevent himself from acting out. Well, he had mostly succeeded in restraining himself so far. There had only been a couple of slip-ups, a couple of times that he had sat in his bed at night, silently willing his father to come in and remove his clothing. He never did. It was infuriating, it made his cock ache. He thought he might die of blue balls soon if his father didn't get the memo and get on his knees already.
Lost in his train of thought, Andrew stood up, morning wood tenting his boxers for the world to see, and padded barefoot to where his father stood. Leaning in, he whispered in his ear: "Hey dad"
"Jesus" Jim jumped, swearing as he splashed coffee on the counter and the floor. The thermos skidded off the counter as well, its sound metallic and loud as it bounced onto the floor. Jim turned around, nervous at the proximity. His face was turning red alarmingly quickly, his jaw tight as he looked down.
"Fuck, man. I just wanted to get some coffee." Andrew furiously rubbed the top of his foot that had been burned by the coffee. It wasn't terrible, but it was already turning red. The hot flash of pain sent a tight burst of anger down his spine. Clearly, it showed on his face because Jim's eyes got very wide.
"Shit, s-sorry...here let me-" Jim grabbed a dish towel from the counter and knelt down, wiping at the top of Andrew's already dry foot. "Y-you surprised me, that's all. I-"
"Oh shut up" Andrew said without thinking, still pissed off at the burn on his foot.
To his surprise, Jim's mouth snapped shut immediately. Something stirred in Andrew's mind at this. A half-formed thought.
"My foot is fine. No need to worry."
"Are you sure? Maybe we can-"
"If I say its fine, its fine"
"Shit, you're right. Sorry da-" Again, Jim's mouth snapped shut. Andrew's pulse quickened, his half-formed thought finally coming together.
Andrew had hesitated to shift into a full time dominant relationship with him. Andrew was just so used to his father running my life, being bossy and intimidating all of the men he brought in the house.
Face now beet red, Jim made as if to stand from his current kneeling position.
"Stay" Andrew said firmly.
Jim froze where he was before settling back on his knees. He glanced upward, locking eyes with his son as a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek.
For some reason, it had finally dawned on Andrew: Jim's shifty glances, awkward pauses in conversation and avoiding Andrew in the house, they weren't because his dad was disgusted by what we had done, or that he didn't want to see him anymore. In fact, he was anxiously on the lookout for Andrews dominant side, for his daddy, to resurface.
"You know what? Actually, my foot does kind of hurt...Rub it" Andrew said, driving him his last phrase as a command while looking in his father's eyes.
Jim's eyes widened, pupils dilating and eyes becoming more blank. Looking down again, he resumed his ministrations on Andrew's feet. Now though, his movements were slower, deliberate, meant to please. It was thrilling, and Andrew's cock twitched in his boxers.
Jim saw it too. He was tall enough to be eye level with his son's cock, and he was mesmerized by the sight before him. His lips parted, as if to ask a question. Andrew thought he might know which question his father was going to ask:
Can I suck your cock, Daddy?
"Kiss it and make it better." Andrew said roughly. He placed his hand on his fathers head and pushed downward. Jim went easily, stretching himself out on his own kitchen floor. On hands and knees, he began kissing his son's feet.
"I'm sorry about your foot....D-daddy" Jim whispered. So hesitant, testing the waters before wading in fully.
"It will be alright as long as you make it better, slut" Andrew stepped forward, pinning his father back against the counter. "I think you got some on my legs too."
It was a blatant lie, but neither of them cared. Andrew trembled slightly as Jim began kissing upward, swiping his lips and tongue first on his calf and then thigh, climbing higher with every pass.
Jim seemed to especially savor his inner thighs. Pretense gone, he licked the skin he found there harshly, sucking it into his mouth and leaving hickey's in his wake. He stopped at the edge of Andrew's boxers.
Andrew's cock had been hard to start with, but now it was positively screaming at him. What he wouldn't give to push his cock through the slit in his underwear and bury himself in his father's throat.
But that wasn't how he wanted this to go the first time. So instead of his cock, Andrew reached down and tipped Jim's head back with his finger. His lips were cherry red and puffy. Andrew slid his finger along Jim's swollen lips, and Jim parted easily, happily, to suck his finger inside.
How strange it would have looked to anyone else, a father on his knees, sucking on his son's finger like the happiest man in the world. They would have seen father and son were both rock hard and tenting their respective pants. Aching to continue.
Inspired, Andrew turned his finger within his dad's mouth. Hooking it in his cheek, he did the same with his index finger on the other hand. Staring into his father's eyes, he stretched his dad's mouth open wide. His mouth looked so wet and inviting, he could feel pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, wetting the fabric of his boxers.
