title:               dragon days

author:            Lady Charena

fandom:          Kung Fu – the legend continues

codes:            P/P, NC-17, past-Requiem


sum:               A visit to France.


Disclaimer: This story’s mine, but I do not intend to touch the rights of the owner of the characters from KF-TLC I’ve used. No moneymaking, no offence meant.




My castle became my dungeon, cause I'm longin' for you
Feelin' strong for you
Your my knight of shining armor
See your face in the silver moon
Over the lagoon

And it feels like dragon days
And the fire's hot
Like a desert needs water
I need you a lot
Dragon days, I need to be saved
I'm missin' you
                           (Alicia Keys)




Mere minutes meant for rest turn into hours, the day slowly demising into night and still I can’t bring myself to leave the vague sanctuary of the small, old-fashioned bar. A few scattered lamps create more shadows than light, making it a perfect hideaway.


Stay another couple of hours and it’s past proper time to make visits, my mind whispers seductively, tomorrow will be another day.


Turning around the glass in front of me with restless fingers, I think about it. A little delay – would it really matter? No one’s expecting me anyway. Almost unnoticed by myself I utter a little sneer.


Yeah, right, go on fooling yourself… he’ll know by now I’m here. Most likely he knows about it since the first time the thought crossed my mind. It’s been too long, more than a year… I miss him so much. I can’t stand it any longer, I’m so lost without him… can’t stand to face him… can’t stand the loneliness, the fear he’ll never come back… can’t meet him, he might be disappointed with me, running away from my duties…


I’m an open wound, slowly bleeding to death without him to heal me.


Maybe I’d start plucking pedals off a daisy to decide which one it is. With a sigh I push the untouched glass back. It just doesn’t feel right anymore to have alcohol, even if I’d prefer to drink myself into oblivion tonight. I’d wake with a headache and a bad stomach tomorrow, feeling sick enough to keep me another day from a visit that would do nothing but to rip open the barely healed wounds in my heart. Maybe then I’d be able to return home, pretending I’ve never left at all.


Lifting my head to look around I notice for the first time the lateness of the hour. The last rays of the evening sun flitter through a dusty window at my left and I close my eyes, imagining their warm touch caressing my skin like the hands of my… Someone standing next to me clears his throat and I snap out of the fantasy, startled.


“You want another drink?” the barkeeper asks in his heavily accented English.


I’ve been lucky to find someone talking my tongue in that little town, it’s been too long since I took French classes in school. And then I’ve maybe slept through most of it… Shaking my head in a definite no, I gulp down the meanwhile tepid liquid and suppress a shiver at the bitter aftertaste. No one’s here besides me, but still I feel reluctant to go. Good thing though, I’ve kept the room in the little inn four miles from town, where I hid those last two days, battling with myself to leave or stay.


Feeling suddenly very weary, I run my fingers through my hair. I wish I hadn’t let Kermit talk me into this. It started with a little “brotherly” talk about my sometimes “erratic behavior” (quote end Kermit) and ended with him almost dragging me to the airport like a reluctant kid, a free ticked for the flight to Paris in my pocket, coming from one of his mysterious sources and the promise to have a car standing ready in France.


“May I sit with you?”


I freeze, instantly recognizing the soft voice talking to me. Hell, if I hadn’t been all wrapped up in my thoughts I’ve felt him the moment he entered the bar. Gentle fingers massage my shoulder for a few precious seconds as he passes me by and I’m able to breath again, though my heart refuses to slow down. I dare not to move or to look at him. The touch leaves me and I feel cold invading me. The chair at the other side of the small table scrapes quietly across the floor as he pulls it out to sit down.


Silence settles between us, maybe he waits for me to explain why I’m here, but I can’t tell him. Not now, not… here, when he is sitting so calmly across me.


A finger taps slightly against my empty glass. “Ah, I believe the correct expression is: Can I buy you a drink?”


Disbelief finally prompts me to look at him and I nervously lick my lips. “Sure,” I manage to croak around the lump in my throat, riveting my eyes once more onto the worn surface of the wooden table. I hear him talking to the barkeeper in fluid French. Didn’t know he was that good in it, when we were here for the Chalice he’d let Bennett do all the talking. What else do I still not know about him? Hell, why bother at all; I’ll never be able to understand him… With this little insight comes a certain measure of calm that takes me completely by surprise.


Two glasses filled with deep red wine are placed in front of us. I’m not particularly fond of wine but I decide to go along with it. If he wants to drink wine, we’ll drink wine. Maybe it’s kind of ceremonious. I keep my eyes on my fingers, gripping the thin stem too hard as we clink glasses.


I feel close to a brink – I just don’t know what waits beyond. And I don’t take chances as lightly as I might have a year ago.


“What brings you to this town?”


My glass almost drops from my suddenly dull fingers. I expected that kind of question right from the start – but not in the way he asked it. Casual, as if he didn’t really care for my answer, just bringing up something for a little small talk. I’ve done the same in the past, preparing to pick up someone in a bar for an uncommitted night of sex, drowning my loneliness in mindless pleasure.


I clear my throat. “I’m… I’m gonna to visit my… grandfather.”


He nods, calmly folding his hands in front of him. “I am confident he will be very pleased.” There is something strange in his voice… I’ve never heard him sounding so… so husky. Almost sensual. Must be my imagination.


“I… I also want to visit my… father. He’s staying with my grandfather.”


I cannot bring myself to meet the gentle gaze I feel directed to me. “I couldn’t wait any longer for him to come back.” The words are out of my mouth before I know it.


“Your father must consider himself indeed a very fortunate man to be missed that much.”


I almost choke at my wine. What kind of game is he playing, anyway? A brief touch of knowing fingers, tipping back my chin, spreading across my throat and I can breathe again. “Thanks.”


No answer, but a fleeting caress of fingertips brushing across the overheated skin of my face. I try to lean into his touch but he withdraws his hand. Putting my glass back to the table I lick my dry lips. I can taste the wine on them, sweet and fruity, unless any other I’ve ever tasted. “I hope he does.”


“So tell me, why did he leave you?”


I shift in my chair. “He said he’s gonna to find out if my mother... if it’s possible that she… is… alive.”


“He said?” he repeats bemused. “Do you think your father… lied… about his reasons to leave you?”


“Yes… no… I… I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Hidden beneath the table I feel my hands form into fists, nails cutting deep into the soft inner flesh of my palms to keep me from crying. “He left before, giving some sorry excuse, but refused to tell me the true reason.”


“Ah.” A soft sign. “And as a result you started to believe you are the reason he left.”


I can’t stifle a bubble of bitter laughter, bursting out of me. “Why not? I must disappoint him. I’m a mess, I can’t be what he wishes for a… son.”


He leans over and pulls my hands up, gently prying my clenched fingers apart. Holding my hand in his, he starts to massage the irritated skin at my palms with his thumbs. “Perhaps you are over-exaggerating. Certainly he did never do something to convey…”


“He didn’t have to do or say anything,” I interrupt him, trying to pull back my hands, but his grip tightens and I give in to the touch. “I could read it in his eyes!”


“Perhaps all you could see were your own fears, reflected back to you.”




“Then perhaps he feared to disappoint you in not being the father you needed. That you came to much to depend on him, so you would not grow on your own. Perhaps he feared… his own dependency on you.”


“No!” I jerk my hands free and this time he’ll let me go away with it. “He’s everything. He’s… my life, but he doesn’t need me.” I bite down onto my lower lip to keep it from trembling. “Not the way I need him.” For the first time I dare to meet his eyes, but I can’t read them.


“Tell me.” Two words, a gentle command.


I pretend I didn’t hear it. If not for my wobbly knees I would get up and leave. Instead I reach for my glass and down the rest of the wine.




“How lovely, you remember my name.” I rub the back of my hand across my mouth. He snatches it before I can withdraw again. Trapping my fingers between his hands; he brings them to his lips. It’s almost more than I can take.


Without releasing me he stands in a fluid movement, taking me up with him. One hand grips my upper arm, steering me towards the exit. I struggle halfheartedly. “I have to pay for…”


“No. Your grandfather treats his youngest daughter with a special blend of herbs to ease her breathing, she suffers from asthma. As I told him you are Matthew Caine’s grandson he insisted that you would not have to pay.”


I let him steer me out of the bar like a kid, listening to his words more because I need to hear his voice then paying attention to his words. More than anything else, his fingers digging into my arm; convince me that this is not a dream.


The cold air outside hits me like a slap. “Wait,” I hastily say and free myself from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”


He turns to look at me. “I thought you would prefer to talk with me in private rather than in a bar.”


“Yeah, but…” I stop, hugging myself. “I don’t think… it’s the… right time to talk. We didn’t start out great…”


“Peter. We waited already too long.”


I wearily close my lids, let the tender words wash across me like soft summer rain. Gentle hands cup my cheeks in a gesture so familiar, so much missed, that tears fill my eyes. Leaning forward in my father’s embrace I bury my face against his neck, deeply breathing in his unique mixture of scents.


“I, too, missed you so very much, my Peter.”


I hear him murmur, his lips ever so slightly grazing my cheek, near to my ear. It sends a shiver through my body and I inch closer, slipping my arms around his waist. One of his hands creeps into my hair and delicious heat spreads from his touch, warming me from the inside.


“Why did you leave me?” I whisper, trying in vain to keep the tremble out of my voice. “I need you so much, even more so since I took the brands. So much happened to me I couldn’t understand, so many changes I couldn’t handle alone. I tried… I tried so hard, father. I only wanted you to be proud…”


A gentle hand lifts my face from his neck but I refuse to look at him. Lips brush tenderly across my closed lips and I jerk back my head in surprise. He wouldn’t… My father caresses my face, his gaze unreadable, eyes shadowed by the rim of his hat.


“You have a room,” he says quietly.


I feel rooted to the very ground, unable to do more than nod and lick my dry lips. He’s comforting me, nothing more, I tell myself. He wouldn’t understand… hell, *I* don’t understand what I feel, why I feel that way. It’s all mixed up… love and pain, fear and… need. A yearning caged deep inside me like a beast with razor-sharp claws, hollowing me out from within until there remains only an empty shell. My life has been a mass of insecurities with only one constant truth – I need my father to be whole. More than anything in the world I must have him at my side, need the strength, faith and love of Kwai Chang Caine.


And still I dare to yearn for more… I want something I’m not allowed to have, but I couldn’t care less. My love for my father has always trespassed every limit and at some point desire became part of the package.


He let go and a sharp pang of rejection races through my entire body. Fingertips beneath my chin tip my face up and for seconds incredible soft lips cover mine. Then they are a gone and I stare breathless at the departing back of my father as he moves towards the rented car. My thoughts a sluggish whirlwind, I set up to run after him.


* * *


During the ride the silence is even heavier than in the bar. I keep my eyes riveted to the street, to bring us save to my room. A strange feeling settles around me, as if we are crossing a far wider distance than the few miles to the inn.


I lead him to my room. It is small, tastefully but sparsely furnished, with white walls and huge French doors, leading to a little private balcony. I light the lamp at the bedside table, ‘cause it’s soft glow reminds me of the candles in my father’s home. Then I turn to watch him.


He stands at the French doors, gazing out into the darkness – a picture so familiar that my chest tightens painfully. His hat, satchel and jacket lie at the small table next to the door and I notice his hair has grown out, it’s as long as the time we meet again. Besides this I find nothing changed, at least not at the outside.


Gathering my courage, I cross the little space between us to stand next to him. I can’t meet his eyes so I pretend to look outside also.


“I must ask your forgiveness, Peter.”


His voice drifts through the room like an immaterial being. Again a lump forms in my throat. “Why?” I finally manage to whisper.


Fingertips travel down my spine, searing my skin even through the shirt.


“I sensed your need but I choose to run away from you. You cannot know how powerful your love is, Peter. You returned my soul to me, when I found you alive and still I… feared to allow myself to love you again.”


The touch stops where my back begins to curve into buttocks and travels up again, leaving little trails of fire in its wake.


“In my arrogance I believed to understand how abandoned and lonely you must have felt during our separation… but I deceived myself. These last months I stayed with your grandfather thought me much, I… re-learned… to be a son again. And during this process I finally began to understand your fear and the pain I inflicted on you every time I left.”


I let myself be turned towards him, close my eyes as he strokes my face over and over. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up…




No one ever said my name with so much love; it’s almost like a caress. I feel a shiver course through me and this time it’s pure desire. It would be so easy to give in. But I can’t allow this to happen.


“Please look at me, my love. Can you forgive me?”


My head spins and I force my eyes open. “Don’t do this.” I back down, free myself from his grip. Pain flashes in his face but I harden my heart against it. “You don’t understand, father. I can’t stand it anymore. I run and run and try to catch up with you, but before I’m gonna reach you, you vanish into thin air. Maybe if I’m lucky I see you far away, again far ahead of me.” I move backwards till my legs brush against the edge of the bed. I heavily fall down and bury my face in my hands. “I started to ask myself if it’s worth the effort… trying to get your love, I mean. Everything I do isn’t… is never enough. But I can’t live without you. Why did you ever teach me to love… only to take your love away from me over and over?”


Gentle hands pry mine apart and away from my face, but I resist looking at him. I can’t even guess his reaction – if it’s anger or disappointment I just don’t wanna see it.




There’s a plea in his voice that threatens to shatter my heart. Or at least what’s still left of it. My pulse beating a wild staccato in my chest, I lift my head to look at my father… He’s on his knees in front of me. It’s a shock to see his tears. I can’t remember ever seeing him cry that openly, not even after my mother died. Sometimes I would see them in his eyes, but I’d always thought him to be too controlled to really cry. I don’t know what’s harder to see – his tears or the look of guilt and pain in his features – and I fervently wish I could take back my words.


He stares at my trembling fingers in his, before he hesitantly let go and withdraws his hands, dropping them loosely to his sides. “I… beg… forgiveness,” he whispers, his voice flat, almost lifeless. “Having failed you so deeply I have… no longer the right to… touch you.” He sits back on his heels, blinking, as if trying to wake from a nightmare.


An ugly little part of me glees about his agony, but I stifle it. He’s the last person on earth deserving to suffer and… certainly not from me. I slip from the bed to kneel next to him, my knee brushing his thigh and despite all the pain and confusion, heat shoots through my body.


“No.” Trying my best to ignore it I bent forward and take my father’s face between my hands, the way he so often holds me. “Can’t you see? You’re leaving me again. You’re running away from me. Please… don’t leave me. I need you…”


Hesitantly he reaches for my hands, closing his fingers gently around my wrists. So many emotions are reflected in his eyes. Pain and guilt foremost… but… wonder, too. I’ve never seen him so insecure, not even in the first shaky time after we found each other and it scares me senseless. I need him to be my strength; I’ve got nothing else left to rely on.


Slowly he pulls my hands from his face to lay a tender kiss in each palm. “You still love me, I have not lost you,” he whispers with awe in his voice. “It is not yet too late for us.”


Tired I lean forward to press my forehead against his. “Can’t you see we can’t loose each other? It wouldn’t hurt so much…”


“…if we did not love each other so much…” he finishes. He seems unsure how to continue and I pull back. Grasping his shoulders for support I stagger to my feet. I can’t take more, not tonight.




I shake my head. “Please… I can’t…” Strong arms come around my waist and I let myself being pushed back till I’m all stretched out on the bed.


“I understand. I will leave you, so you may rest.”


More sensing then seeing I know he’s ready to go… but I won’t let him run away. Never again. I grasp his hands before he can withdraw and pull him down to me. “Stay.”


He hesitates – then nods. The bed isn’t nearly big enough for two, but I slide over to the wall, making space for him to lie down besides me. Turning to my side I pad the mattress. For a moment his face is very still, then a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and he complies. There’s still the tiny chance he might decide to sneak out as soon as I’m asleep, so I quickly roll over, covering his body with mine. Pushing his legs apart so I can insert one of mine, I pillow my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Anxiety creeps through my body as he shows no reaction, neither encouraging me, nor pushing me away.


Then I feel his arm move and the lamp at the bedside table is turned off. Seconds later I’m safe in his embrace. I let the strong, steady beat of my father’s heart carry me into sleep.


* * *


I don’t know how long I slept, but it’s dark outside when I wake. I’m still cradled in familiar arms and in a gesture, I remember since earliest childhood, fingers slide through my hair. Not daring to move or to speak, I wait for him to acknowledge I’m awake.


Slowly, still in utter silence, the hand cupping the back of my head, moves and I feel myself being drawn closer and closer to the lips I’ve tasted till now only in fantasies. His mouth brushes mine with the gentlest touch, so soft I hope it’s not a dream, before he withdraws again.


It’s too early, too much left unsaid between us… but I can’t stop myself. I’ve wanted this for so long… Our faces are close enough for me to take in his breath and I sign as he gently strokes my cheek, my skin heating up beneath his fingers.


I feel his lips move, wordlessly calling my name and can’t resists such a tender appeal. I lean in to let his mouth reclaim mine. The tip of his tongue darts out to trace my lips and I part them, luring him in. Every bit of air leaves me as I start to drown in a whirlwind of sensations rushing through me like a fever. But still I fear I might dream and so I stay passive, let him explore the recess of my mouth, nip my lips until I can’t stand any more.


I break free from the kiss to look down at my father. But there’s too little light in the room for me to read the expression in his face. The pent-up yearning inside of me scares me and I wonder what he thinks. We trespassed so many borders together… but what we’re about to do, is more… we’re about to make love. It seems I’ve made my decision a long time ago and the surge of arousal that rushed through me as we kissed, is all too familiar. But what’s about him? He’s my father… my teacher… he can’t think it’s right to… make love with… The worries and fears that had been coiled inside me for years surfacing again.


Then I feel his hands threading through my hair, one cupping my head and the other sliding down my spine – and I can’t think anymore.


My hands come up and I grip his shirt like a lifeline, I inhale his scent like an exotic drug before we kiss again. This time there is less tenderness in his touch and a thrill flows my body. Can he really want me that much…?


Seconds or hours drift by and the kiss ends, our lips still clinging to one another even as we pull apart. Breathless I try to move, to push myself up to my elbows, but his hand presses me down, against the hard body beneath mine. A fingertip outlines my ravished mouth and I understand that he waits for me; that it’s up to me to decide whether way we go. Tonight there will be no more boundaries between us... if I want it.


Still I can't bring myself to speak and I will him to read my mind... And I think, he does… as his fingers start to caress my face again… as his lips, hot and firm close over mine with a demanding hunger, not tentatively, but a branding kiss that leaves no doubts.


I feel his fingers, warm and steadier than mine would be, pushing and pulling open my shirt to explore my bare chest. It’s unlike every other time he touched me in the past, to soothe sore muscles after an especially strenuous workout or to heal injuries. I moan and gasp for air as his fingers brush my nipples, rubbing across them till they peak to hard nubs, sending tendrils of fire to my groin.


Lips curve beneath mine into the smallest of smiles as I start to finger his shirt, clawing into the unyielding material, unable to open the buttons with my trembling hands. He pushes my hands away and opens his shirt for me, raising his body just enough to push it over his shoulders and down his arms, slipping out of it without ever letting go of me.


I press my palms flat against his chest; feel the wild beating hearth beneath hot skin and crisp curls of hair. My thumbs brush against his nipples and as I hesitantly rub across them I hear him moan.


His mouth leaves mine, to trail down the length of my neck to where it joins my shoulder. He hesitates for a second across the pulse point in my throat and the pulls away. The loss is shattering, but I then his arms come around my waist, pulling me up until I’m sitting across his lap. His back propped up against the head end of the bed, my father watches me for a moment. Then my shirt is discarded and I’m propelled forwards into his embrace, our chests brushing against each other.


The contact sends shivers of pain-pleasure rippling through me as my mouth seeks his again.


We separate for a moment, breathlessly staring at each other, though I can’t read his face. I wonder if he is as confused as I… and still I don’t want to stop.


Neither wants he, for his hands comes down my spine to cup and squeeze my buttocks. With a helpless moan I fall forwards to kiss his cheek and neck before returning to his mouth. I can't seem to get enough of him, each kiss, every touch, only driving me for more.


I feel his hands travel around to stroke over my thighs, before he cups the front of my bulging pants. My eyes close, my head tilts back, and I cry out as his fingers travel along the clearly visible erection, causing me to get even harder. Leaning my forehead against his shoulder, holding onto both of his upper arms to prevent myself from collapsing onto him, I let him open my pants, pushing away the fabric to free my straining cock. Somehow, with a minimum of help from me, he managed to get the pants down my legs – and suddenly I’m naked in his arms. My head swims.


He gently pulls away from me and for a moment I fear he changed his mind… but then I’m pushed down to the mattress and as he joins me, mere seconds later, what remained of his clothes is gone. We both turn to our sides on the narrow bed, facing each other.


Slowly his hand travels over my ribs and down to my hipbone. And I’m not sure if I actually heard or only imagined him to whisper: “Beautiful.”


My eyes are locked onto his hands, and I watch as they stroke over my chest, brush across my ribs, traveling over my abdomen and lower in a touch that's almost too light to feel. Fingers spread wide, running up and down my legs in a languid motion. They move up my inner thighs, and my legs fall apart.


I let my eyes sift shut, unable to watch any longer and bite down onto my lower lip to stop myself from crying out loud, as my father’s lips following his hands, not missing an inch of skin. I feel his mouth around my nipple, teeth grazing, his tongue swirling around it. Only releasing it to take the other into his mouth, too.


My hands thread through his hair and I miss the long silver strands. I hope he’s gonna to let them grow out – and he’ll still be with me… my thoughts shatter and I jackknife, as I feel his breath brush over my heated, straining length. My eyes fly open and I actually see his head bow down and the tip of his tongue dart out. I'm not able to stifle a cry as he touches me. The palms of his hand hold me still as he continues to caress me, his tongue runs up and down my cock, whirling underneath and around several times.


I whimper and move restlessly under him, getting lost in the heat and sensations that are short-circuiting what is left of my mind as he takes me in his mouth…


The very moment I think I’m gonna break in a myriad of pieces, he stops and sets me free, only to slide the full length of his body along mine. We're touching at all points, no distance between us. Our erections rub against each other, I'm helpless, lost in the sensations. I clutch at his back, digging my fingers into the curved cheeks of his buttocks, to get him closer to me, still closer… never close enough.


I hear him whisper against my cheek but can’t understand the words; my brain’s out and I desperately search for his mouth.


He stops, holds himself motionless against me. My whole body is trembling as his hands lovingly stroke over me, a touch both arousing and calming. His lips leave mine and I try to force much-needed air in my lungs, a futile attempt to clear my mind a bit. Finally I register that he moves away from me, that he’s reading himself to leave the bed.


My fingers clamp down around his wrist. Looking up to him, our eyes meet and what I read in his gaze makes me shiver. I lick my dry lips and nod once. He gently loosens my grip and picks up his satchel. When he returns, he brings a small bottle with him. Unable to meet his eyes for a second time I roll over onto my stomach.


Is he really going to…? And do I really want him to…?


A pillow is placed under me and heat rises in me, warring with a shiver of anticipation. Slowly, lovingly, his hands run over my back, fingers spread my cheeks apart. My legs come up on their own will… I gasp for air as he touches me, the pad of his thumb rubbing across my most intimate place. Like two spinning stars, fear and nee meet and collide. I want him so bad, I can feel it in every fiber of my body, but the fear is there, too. 


He must sense it because suddenly his finger stills. His hands leave me and I lie trembling, breathless. Waiting for… I don’t know… the ultimate rejection maybe…


Seconds later his touch returns and I start to live again. His palms, now slick with sweet smelling oil, start to massage my shoulders, gentle strokes over my back and buttocks, more soothing than arousing. His lips in my neck make me nearly jump, but soon I relax despite the fear. My eyes drift shut and I nearly lose myself in the love I feel wrapping around me.


Some time later my brain registers his hands are moving back down to my buttock and gently probe, teasing over the rim of my body. The pad of his thumb brushes against the tight clenched opening and I involuntarily tense again. Then I will myself to relax and the pressure vanishes, his finger slipping easily into my body. A wave of sensations swallows me and I moan breathless as he probes deeper, stretching the taut ring of muscles with loving care until it loosens up.


My brain fills with fog as he brushes against a spot deep inside, that sends sparks of white-hot electricity through me. I gasp out and push myself back hard against his hand, shudders running up and down my spine.


He brushes against the spot again, and I hardly notice when a second finger slips into me, spreading me wider. The first discomfort is fast fading and I feel ready to explode, my aching cock pressed into the mattress I fervently wish I could touch myself.


The fingers disappear, leaving me painfully empty, a quivering mass of unfulfilled need.


Even more oil drips between my cheeks, cooling the superheated skin and then something hot and hard presses against the tight rim. Sweet covers my forehead, burning in my eyes and I dig my fingers into the sheet. Yes, I want this. Yes, I want him. Now. I can’t bring myself to say it aloud.


But he knows, of course he knows. His hips shift, his arms circle my waist, and I felt myself breached as he presses into me. Pleasure-pain courses through me as he patiently and slowly enters me, working his way into my tight channel with utmost care. I feel filled and stretched to capacity as we are joined as tightly as humanly possible.


He's so hot and hard inside of me, and it's far better than I ever dared to dream of. It feel’s so good, so right… He begins moving, slowly at first, and I'm helpless, lost in the feelings and sensations.


Soon my hips start rocking in time to his, meeting him thrust for thrust. His hands curl around my hips, pulling me up, holding with his strength, as long, deep strokes fill me over and over again. I’m instantly addicted and know I’m gonna to want him over and over again. My entire body tingles and I feel like burning up from inside, as if he touches the center of my soul.


My moans fill the silence but I suddenly notice his raspy breathing, the words he still murmurs, words I don’t understand, but they melt away the icy ring around my heart. For the first time in more than a year I don’t feel lonely. He starts moving faster inside me, and I'm fighting for control, don’t want it to eve end, wanting to make it last


My body pushes back harder and harder, I want everything he can give, all I can take and I want him to never stop, to reduce me to a mass of quivering, sweaty flesh and wordless cries. He pulls me up, until I sit wide spread over his thighs, his arms holding me safe. My head falls back on his shoulder, as he buries himself still deeper in me. I cry out and dig my fingers in his flanks, nails breaking the skin as he moves forcefully.


Hot breath sears my ear and I feel his lips suckle at the tender skin. One of his hands runs over my chest, settling across my wild beating heart, the other slides down my stomach to wrap around my burning cock, stroking me in rhythm to his thrusting.


It is all too much. My muscles quiver uncontrolled; I feel a deep spasm surging up from deep within me, tearing through my body with a violent, explosive wave of mind-blazing ecstasy. Crying out hoarsely , I spill my seed over his fingers and my thighs and chest.


Only seconds later I hear a sound I've never heard before as he cries out, my name on his lips, as his body shudders and feel myself filled with his essence.


* * *


Slowly I drift back to awareness, still in his arms, his breathing ragged and hot against my burning flesh. Blindly I bury my face against his neck. “I love. I love you so much,” I whisper. The words seem to plain, to common for all I’m feeling, but they’re all I have.


My heart stops for a moment as I receive no answer, but am instead gently lifted from his lap. He slips from my body and I feel empty and hollow again, until his arms come around me again, pulling me close to him. Tender but firm lips cover mine and for the moment I’m content with their silent answer.


I don’t know where we will carry on from this. The night will finally break to a new morning and I fear the rising of old worries. Too late now for regrets. I only know I’ll die, if he leaves me again…


Exhaustion takes over, blurs my thoughts. I drift into sleep as I hear my father’s voice. “I love you, Peter.”