The Sting of the Commanding Hand
PapaCaelxCael
He was a liar. That's all that ever went through his head when he talked to a teacher, to his mother, to the other children, when he told them that he was fine, when he lied to them. "No ma'am, I only fell down." ,"It's not a black eye, I just haven't been sleeping well", "No mommy, those aren't bruises on my cheeks, it's probably just dirt." And they all believed him. Of course they believed him, why wouldn't they? Why would a kid like him have any reason to lie?
Another harsh slap had his head turning sharply, cheek stinging and tears welling in his eyes, unwilling to look back up at his father but knowing if he didn't, he'd only be hit again. "Look at me." Cael swallowed a whimper and turned his head, left eye squinting, both eyes jittering up his father's chest, his arms, avoiding his eyes until the twitch of a large hand had them flying to his face in a panic. "Better." His father bent at the waist, leaned forward and ran a hand through short blonde hair, gentle and soft, gaze neutral and resting on the quivering form of his son. "…You're disgusting,"
An unstoppable cry tore from his throat as the grip in his hair tightened and yanked, pushed his head forward and against the front of his father's pants. He let out a soft moan, sad and scared as he felt his father stir beneath his cheek, felt his hand press harder, felt him grind against his face before he was pulled back, held in place while his father freed himself, stroked, and pulled Cael forward again, cut off his airways and laughed as his son choked around him. "Fuck- you're disgusting. I can't even look at you." Each word punctuated with a slow, lazy roll of his hips, a barely stifled growl as he hit the back of Cael's throat, an appreciative groan at the resulting gag. "You're such a whore, just like your mother. Letting me do this, not fighting back…" His father's eyes bore down on him, hand pulling him back and off, allowing Cael a coughing gasp of air, another shaky whimper as he rubbed against his face, slicking the bridge of his nose and the delicate rise of his cheekbone with spit and precum. "You let me do it because you like it, isn't that right?"
Always asking questions, always saying terrible things, getting off on the tears his words caused, on the hoarse beginnings of protest before he shoved himself back in, groaning at the sight of soft lips stretch and bruised, wide blue eyes shiny and wet, fluttering shut with a sob that vibrated around him, made him choke on his next breath and thrust deeper. Cael always gagged, always brought his small hands up in a feeble attempt as pushing his father away, always inadvertently turned him on even more. Every sound, every touch brought him closer to the edge, clouded his mind until he was pressing Cael's head down so hard his nose pressed against his belly until he spilled himself in his throat, eyes rolling into his head as the muscles spasmed around him before he would pull out, get a good look at the mussed hair and the cracked lips before Cael doubled over and heaved onto the rug.
"Disgusting…" But he'd probably never stop. Not as long as that disgustingly delicate body pranced around his house, as long as those big eyes blinked up at him whenever he walked into the room, as long as that whore wasn't putting out. Maybe next time he'd come on his face, shove him into the carpet and jerk off onto soft cheeks, smear it into his hair and watch as he tried to clean himself without vomiting before his mother came home.