![]() ![]() Marty smiled briefly before bringing his fingers up to run along Martin’s jaw. “Um, so I’m guessing it’s not your fingers nudging my thigh, then?” The trembling in Marty’s body couldn’t be missed. “The point is, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to love you exactly the same way in return, the thought of being that close to you, of sharing something so…intimate with you, it’s very appealing. The point is…” Martin’s confidence faltered for a moment, but he plowed ahead. I’m not gay, but…but I love you more than anyone. Martin ignored his son’s well-meaning comments and decided it was time to man up, to say what he’d been relentlessly turning over in his mind for months. “Now if that doesn’t sound fucking dramatic, I don’t know what does.” We just- I -just have to find a way of dealing with the passing of a dream.” Marty snorted. And as much as I’d like to, I won’t let you do this to try to fix things. “Since the way I planned on touching you is in a way I’ve never done before.” Martin took a small step to close the gap between them and rested his hands on the outsides of Marty’s upper thighs, his fingers curving behind his son’s back and landing just above the swell of his ass. “Since when do you need to ask permission?” ![]() ![]() I think I know what you’re doing, Dad, and even though I appreciate it-” His son’s head shook back and forth again. ![]()
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