It was late when the son came home. He switched on none of the lights as he moved through the dark flat, straight to his bedroom.
When he pushed the door open, he saw the dark silhouette of the figure sitting on his bed. He paused and drew a long breath, watching in the light of the window as the shadow of a man lifted his head and the whites of his dark eyes gleamed.
The son dropped to the floor to kneel at the man's feet. Not a word was spoken as he shuffled forward, reaching to unbuckle the belt, to lower the fly with quick deft hands.
The man's cock was already hard, weeping. The son took it into his hand and then into his mouth, and the man above him stifled a low moan, grasping a handful of the son's ginger curls and pushing his head down to take him to the hilt.
The son whined and the man let him up, whispering his name like a prayer. He drew the man from his mouth and stroked him hard in his hand. "Forgive me, daddy," he said and the light reflected in his own muddy eyes.
The man above him sucked in a deep, shaking breath and his hips jerked into the son's tight fist as he squeezed and pulled at his wiry strands. "Have you been bad?" The son whimpered in the affirmative as he mouthed along the man's length, hissing as he yanked hard on his hair. "What did you do?"
The son lapped at the seeping slit of the man's cock and whispered, "Mother says you left because of me."
The son gasped as he was suddenly thrown onto the bed, a firm hand pressing his face to the mattress, the other yanking down his jeans. He flailed, fighting the man as he cried, "Please! Please, don't hit me, daddy!"
And with that, a hand came down on the son's bare ass with such force that it made him cry out. "Telling me what to do?" the man snarled and pressed his thumb deep inside the son's hole without any warning, stretching him until he gaped. "Insolent little boy!"
"No, daddy, d-" The son's plea was muffled by the man's large, calloused hand, his words muted and transformed into a cry as the man thrust into him. He bit down on man's fingers as he drove into him, drawing a low, savage growl out of him and the son's neck was pressed to the mattress as the man's hand came down again.
Whack!
"Oh, please!" the son sobbed and he sank down helplessly only to be fucked harder into the mattress.
"Teach you a lesson!"
Whack!
"Uhhn!" the son groaned, his breath coming faster, more harsh than before. "D-don't! Stop! Please, stop!"
"Don't stop?" the man challenged. "Ugly little faggot!"
Whack!
"Did this to her," he snarled, hitting the son again and again, unable to stop himself. "Made her this way!"
Whack!
The son cried.
"Ruined her!"
Whack!
"Please, daddy!"
Whack!
"Shut up, whoreson!" And the man struck him again, harder than before. "Deserve this!"
"Aah! Please!" Another hard hit. "Daddy, stop!" the son wailed, looking up at the man over his shoulder, wincing as he drew his hand back to hit him again. "S-stop, dad-- Walter, stop!"
And the man did stop. Everything stopped.
The son laid panting and sweating on the bed, trembling and gasping as the man withdrew from him and collapsed next to him, still hard, left unfinished.
"Too hard?" the man asked hoarsely and drew the son close, his rough, damning hands soothing a tender touch over abused flesh. "Hurt you?"
The son turned in the man's arms, shaking his head and frowning gravely as the light glistened in the tears on the man's cheeks. He took the hand, the one whose mark would be left on him for days to come, and pressed his lips to the palm.
The man keened a quiet sob as the son pulled him into his chest and carded his fingers through ginger curls.
"Forgive me," the men rasped together, sons and sinners praying to a god, a father, who had never saved them, who had left them alone.