Page 24 of Don’t Call Me Son

I reach over and grab Colt’s pillow from his side of the bed. “This one?”

Colt grins and nods, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Right,” I say, clutching the pillow to my chest like a shield. I walk out of their room quickly, waiting for him in the hallway. “I’m not crossing that line.” I gesture between us. “This line is already way too much.”

Colt just grins wider, closing the master bedroom door behind him. Then, before I can protest again, he lunges forward, scoops me up with one arm around my waist and the other under my thighs, pillow still clutched between us.

He starts carrying me downstairs.

“Colt!” I laugh, half-panicked, half-delighted, kicking my legs uselessly. “This is ridiculous…”

He just chuckles and keeps walking, taking me down the stairs and into the living room like I’m his personal toy.

Colt

I drop him onto the couch; pillow still clutched in his arms. He barely has time to react before I’m on him; flipping him onto his stomach, yanking his hips up so his chest is pressed into the cushions and that perfect ass is presented to me.

“Hold the pillow tight, baby,” I growl, deep and so fucking turned on. “You’re gonna make a mess on it for me.”

I don’t give him time to answer. I spread his cheeks with both hands and spit directly onto his already-slick hole, watching it twitch. Then I line my cock up and push in… one long, relentless thrust until I’m buried to the hilt inside his tight ass.

Archie moans loudly into the pillow, back arching.

“Fuck, yes,” I groan, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. “That’s it. Take every inch of Daddy’s cock.”

I start fucking him hard and deep, hips snapping forward with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of my cock slamming into his hole fills the room. I reach forward and grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back so I can hear him better.

“Louder, Archie. Let me hear how much you love getting fucked on the couch like a little slut.”

He moans louder, broken and desperate, pushing back onto my cock like he can’t get enough. I fuck him harder, the slap of skin on skin loud and filthy.

I lean over him, biting the back of his neck as I pound into him. “Gonna fill this hole up so deep you’ll be dripping my come for hours. Then I’m gonna make you sit on that soaked pillow while we watch TV later, so you remember who owns this ass.”

Archie whimpers, trembling underneath me.

I reach under him and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking him fast and rough in time with my thrusts. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my pillow like a good boy.”

It only takes a few more brutal thrusts before he cries out and comes hard, shooting thick ropes all over the pillow just like I wanted. The sight and sound of it pushes me over the edge.

I bury myself deep and growl as I come, flooding his insides with pulse after pulse of hot come. I keep grinding into him through it, making sure every drop stays inside him.

When I finally pull out, I watch with dark satisfaction as it leaks from his wrecked hole, dripping down his thighs.

I grab the pillow, now covered in his load, and push it under his face.

“Smell it, baby,” I murmur, voice hoarse. “That’s what happens when you fall apart for Daddy.”

The adrenaline fades fast. Archie’s whimpering softly, curled forward on the couch, trying so hard not to be a bother even while his body trembles. When he tries to straighten up, a single tear slips down his cheek.

My chest tightens; he did so fucking well for only his second time ever having sex. I pushed him hard, maybe too hard, but he took everything I gave him like he was made for it.

I sit down and pull him gently into my lap, cradling him against my chest. “Hey, baby… I’m sorry,” I say, as I press soft kisses to his temple and wipe the tear from his cheek with my thumb. “You did so good for me. So fucking good. I got carried away. You took everything I gave you so beautifully, but I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard on your second time.”

Archie just whimpers quietly and tucks his face into my neck.

“I’ve got you now,” I whisper, rubbing slow circles on his back. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? No more pushing. Just me looking after my boy.”

I stand up, lifting him easily in my arms. I leave the ruined pillow on the couch and carry him upstairs; his head resting heavily on my shoulder. “I’m gonna run you a nice warm bath,” I tell him softly as I walk down the hallway. “Gonna soak those sore muscles and take care of every inch of you. Sound good, baby?”