Hello to all,

So I'm Céline, a Belgian woman who tries to translate her stories into English. I'm not very good at it and I don't know if I've corrected the texts I've put through the google translation mill.

In any case, I come to you with a rather unusual story about incest. So I warn all those who are not comfortable with this subject, to go away rather than leave derogatory comments.

The warning is not there to decorate and it is precisely to warn sensitive souls that the story below is not a soft and sweet romance. There are detailed sex scenes between a father and his son and some pretty intense psychological complexes. I would also warn that this is not a rape story as the incest is consensual on both sides. Another clarification, this is an alternative universe without supernatural.

That said, there will be three chapters, each from the point of view of a different character. I'll leave you here with the first one, which is about Stiles. I hope you enjoy reading and maybe I'll see you soon for possible answers to the reviews.

Chapter 1 : The obvious

POV Stiles

The first time I felt that something was wrong with me, I was twelve years old. I don't really know how to explain it. There he was, on the couch, dressed in nothing but boxers, drunk, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was half comatose and looked so unhappy. Mum had died not long ago and he was still recovering. He had watched videos of us when the three of us were on holiday, smiling and happy. Even though his eyes were closed now, I could see that he had been crying and I was shocked to see him like that. Yet when my eyes fell on his half-naked body, I... I felt a surge of excitement in my heart. I wanted to climb on top of him and straddle him and kiss his neck.

But I was scared and did nothing. I just picked up his work clothes, folded them and put them on the coffee table. I gently removed the bottle he was holding tightly between his thick fingers and put it away in the kitchen. Then I put a blanket over him while he was still sitting and starting to snore his liquor, and turned off the VCR and the TV. My heart sank as I walked out of the living room leaving only a mood light on. When I got into bed, I sobbed a little. Dad wasn't getting any better. The more the months went by, the more he tried to forget the lack of mum and I didn't know what to do, I was like absent in this whole story, while I was suffering all the time too. I had lost my mother, I didn't want to lose my father, to be an orphan, lost.

Days passed, and every evening I saw my father wasting away in his drunkenness. When he spoke to me, he was aggressive and when he didn't, he mostly ignored me. It hurt, so much that things were getting so dark at home, so gloomy. My father needed to be taken care of, but he refused everyone's help, even mine. Yet I couldn't just sit back and wait for things to get better on my own. It was getting worse and worse anyway and I needed to change. I started to wonder how I could make my father smile again. Nothing came to me except the image of him on the bench, his half-naked body suffering from the lack of caresses, of solitude.

It was at least a year before I tried to come to him. It had become so difficult to approach him without him getting angry that I had distanced myself and watched him suffer from a distance. But that evening in May, when I heard him crying in his room, my stomach knotted and my whole body shook with sadness. I could no longer stand by and do nothing to comfort this man who was destroying himself in the absence of the woman he had loved so much. I got up, and with my heart in my mouth, I went to my father's cop room.

Caught up in his desperate sobs, he didn't hear me coming towards him and it was only when I got into his bed to snuggle up to him that he realized he was no longer alone in the darkness of his room. First there was the silence, so suffocating. My heartbeat was anarchic. And when I stuck to him, he hugged me and cried without holding back. He pressed me against his chest and I suffered his hiccups of woe without saying anything. I don't remember if I cried too, but I just know that I was touching him and that it felt so weird. I was pained and at the same time there was this feeling of excitement, this strange frenzy that made me tremble against my daddy's muscles.

He held me so tightly to him, and I could smell his whiskey-heavy breath. Rather than frightening me, it aroused this heat in my belly, my sex got all hard and I didn't know how to calm my blood that seemed to boil inside my veins. I was so hot and I put my indecisive fingers on the wet face of this man who was finally accepting the comfort of my presence. Shyly, I started to get up and kiss his neck, his unshaven jaw, the tip of his nose. My father was shedding tears and he wanted my affection. It had been so long.

I was feverish, I wanted so much for him not to be sad anymore. So, I put my lips on his and he froze. My heart was beating out of my chest, but I couldn't stop myself from moaning with pleasure as I overcame the ban. Even though he didn't move, I continued to fuck his mouth which smelled of cheap alcohol. He finally opened his lips, as if in a love reflex, and I slipped my inexperienced tongue into the wet lair that was offered to me. I tickled his tongue, sought his touch and he began to play with me, to let himself be cajoled. Then he took control of the exchange. He got on top of me and literally ate my lips. His breathing was powerful and his body tensed in desire. I was overcome by his ardor, so good, I had such a hard-on that when I felt his big hard cock against mine, I nearly came. However, everything stopped there. My father pulled back immediately and sat up in bed, sobbing again.

"Get out of my bed Stiles," he said in a threatening voice.

"Dad, I... I want to comfort you," I said.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted and sobbed. "Shit, man... what the hell am I doing, I'm going crazy! I was ready to fuck my own kid... what the hell is wrong with me? Claudia! "

He cried, ran a hand over his forehead and despite the darkness everywhere, I could see his burdened figure.

"Dad, you're not crazy, I want to. "

"Get out of the fucking bed, Stiles, leave me alone! "

"No, I want to stay with you, I want to kiss you. "

He stood up suddenly and flicked the light switch. His eyes flushed, he glared at me and I couldn't move. I was afraid and when he came towards me with long strides, I shrank back. He grabbed my arm and pulled me violently up off the bed. He was so strong. I screamed, I tried to struggle because I wanted to stay there, but he was deaf to my words. He knocked me off his sheets and then dragged me to the front of the room and kicked me out like a dirty man before slamming the door shut. I heard him crying again and I was so hurt, so humiliated, that I could not move.

I curled up on the floor and cried in the darkness of the corridor. I didn't know what to do, everything was spinning in my head. It hurt, but I didn't know where, it was as if nothing was happening in my flesh, but my soul was raw. I fell asleep there, without really knowing how, and in the early morning, my father discovered me in a fetal position in front of his door. He gently woke me up and carried me in his arms as if to apologies for his violence of the previous day. He looked even worse and his hangover didn't help.

I snuggled up to him and didn't know where he was taking me, but I let myself go, I was only comfortable in his arms. He laid me down in my bed and leaned over me, his grey eyes clouded with uncertainty. He didn't know what to say and I didn't want him to let go. When he tried to get up, I clung to his neck.

"Stiles, " he said. There was pain in his eyes, but also tenderness.

"Stay with me, don't go, please... stay with me dad. "

I was desperate and whispered the words as if he was going to leave me and never come back. He sighed uncomfortably and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yesterday... "

"It was me who wanted. You need love, you need it so much. I want to give you everything, I want you to be happy with me, Dad. I want to give you what you need. "

"Not like that Stiles, it doesn't work like that. "

"Why not? I want to Dad, I know I can heal you, I know I can make you feel good about being alive, like you used to. "

"No. You're my son, not... not my wife. I haven't been taking care of you lately, I left you alone and I regret it. And because of that, you've been getting into some trouble. But we can't do what you want, it's not right. Do you understand? "

"It's not nonsense. I want to experience this with you. "

"Stiles. "

He sighed gravely and stood up, undecided. For my part, I started to cry again.

"I'm gonna call the school, you're not going in today. I'm going to take the day off and we're going to go out, okay? Do you want to go to an amusement park? "

He could no longer look me in the face and my tears kept burning my cheeks.

"No, I don't want to go out. I want to be with you, in your arms. I want to make love with you. "

I blushed and sniffled as I said the words and straightened up to bring my knees to my chest. I didn't know why I was obsessed with this idea, but all I could think about was the kisses my dad had given me the night before, his body warm against mine. It was the only thing I really wanted, and definitely not to go to some crappy amusement park with a lot of people around us. I saw my father swallow and his discomfort grow at my insistence.

"Why are you being so stubborn, Stiles? You think I'd be better off if we did what you want, when I'd be even more guilty. You're thirteen, and I'm your father, and a cop at that. "

"But yesterday you were all hard on me and you wanted it. "

"Yesterday I lost my mind, I was drunk, I didn't know. Your tenderness and your smell were so much like... but when I smelled your excitement, I... "

He stopped explaining and rubbed his eyes, his forehead, his mouth. I watched him lose himself in his uncertainty and found him so beautiful. He had no clothes on and was wearing only a pair of blue-checked pajamas bottoms. I could see his muscles, his abs, his pecs. And his face was so sad. When I stood up, he took a step back and I was afraid he would never let me near him again.

"Dad," I said in a hurt voice.

He interrupted me.

"Enough, Stiles, I said no. "

And he left the room in a disorganized flight. I felt bad, really bad. I couldn't understand why he refused me. He needed my love, he needed pleasure, he needed soothing. What good was I if I couldn't give him anything? I cried for at least an hour and then went downstairs for lunch after showering and dressing. My dad had made everything for me and when I finished I met him in the living room where he had a Marvel movie on. We watched television all day. Even though it was just the two of us, he made sure I didn't touch him, didn't stick to him, couldn't try anything.

That's how this strange, somewhat cold relationship between us began. He tried to become a more serious father again, who looked after me and prepared my meals, worried about my school results, my relationship with my friends. Yet he no longer touched me, no longer kissed me, no longer hugged me. I was sick of it. No matter how hard I tried, all my attempts resulted in further distance and I couldn't even catch a glimpse of his unclothed body. The more I thought and fantasized about him, the more he pushed me away. Sometimes I wanted to die, but most of the time I cried in secret after relieving myself by thinking of his body, of those hands.

Two years went by, but nothing changed for me except that I had entered high school. I tried to think of other things to forget the void of affection that weighed me down. I spent all my free time with Scott and that made me feel better. I would tell him that I was in love with Lydia because I liked her, even though I knew that was a way of burying my head in the sand and not seeing what I was afraid of. I was crazy and my pain was unbearable, it was an evil that was hard to explain or even understand.

I might have wanted to change, to try to move on to other thoughts or new experiences. But I wasn't attracted to Lydia, or Scott, or Danny, or Isaac, or even Jackson, in fact, I wasn't attracted to anyone my own age like I was to my father. I couldn't want anyone else, and I kept reliving in my dreams the moment when his tongue had been in my mouth, the moment when his hands had been on my face, the brief minutes when his hips had vibrated between my thighs, when his cock had rubbed against my stomach. It had only lasted five minutes, but it had been enough to steal my sanity. That's all I'd hoped for, just that.

Then one night I heard moaning in my father's room. I was supposed to be asleep three hours ago, but sleep wouldn't come. I got up and went to put my ear to the door of his secret garden. The man who was raising me was masturbating and... and it was my name he said when he finally came. Upset, I went back to lie down. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't believe what I had heard. I was so happy that I felt like my heart was going to explode with joy and at the same time I was terribly angry with him. Why didn't he come for me, why did he put so much distance between himself and me, why did he let me mourn his absence, if he wanted me like I wanted him?

For several days I asked myself these questions, and at the end of the week I summoned the courage to act. It was the only Sunday in the month that my now sheriff father was off work, and when the clock read eleven in the morning, I decided to wake him up. When I entered his room, he was snoring softly. I watched him do the starfish, a sheet carelessly laid over his crotch, as if he had wanted to hide only that part of his body which I wanted with all my heart. I found him so beautiful, my breath was taken away. I loved to see his dark hair dotting his white skin. I wanted to smell his sweat, and my heartbeat wandered in anticipation.

I shakily approached his bed and pulled back the sheet that half covered him. I took my time, stopping when he sighed or moved imperceptibly. I was completely groggy from my desires, blown away by my audacity, and when I saw his cock mole appear above two beautiful hairy curves, I went into an almost pious apnea. My father's cock was magnificent. His foreskin tenderly covered his glans, with only the top exposed. It looked as if it could double in size and my arousal grew to a level never before experienced.

I moistened my lips and tried to catch my breath as I began to get impatient to touch her. My father groaned in his sleep and I froze as I continued to ogle his cock. I tentatively wrapped my fingers around his warm flesh and was surprised at the size of his then resting member. I calmed down as I slowly caught my breath and decided to bend over to taste the forbidden fruit. I swallowed his soft sex, reveled in its strangely pleasant taste, inhaled the smell of intimacy that resided there. I wanted so much more and yet I took my time.

My father's cock began to expand as I sucked gently and pulled on his skin so that his glans would release and offer me all its flavor. I greedily licked the lubricating fluid that lazily flowed from her slit, while stroking her balls with my free hand. I was so excited and yet I shivered with fear. I glanced at my father's face, which remained serene, proof that he was still sleeping. Yet he reacted to my caresses and began to moan dreamily. Soon his cock became stiff and his size was impressive. I couldn't take it any longer, I had to suck him deeper, again and again and when my father ejaculated in my mouth at the same time as he woke up under the blast of pleasure, I didn't know what I was doing. I drank all his cum and when I looked up, my father was looking at me as if I were a monster.

"Get out," he said.

I was frozen in fear and didn't know what to do. I could hardly understand the meaning of the word he had thrown in my face as an insult. His eyes seemed to flash at me and his mouth twisted in disgust. He moved quickly away from me and grabbed the sheet I had taken great care to remove and covered himself with it.

"Go Stiles, this... what you did is disgusting... get out! "

I ran back to my room without remembering how I got there. I buried myself under my sheets, I couldn't think. All the words were tangled up in my head. I couldn't regret tasting my father's sperm, having its bittersweet taste on my tongue. Still, I felt bad. He had made it clear that I was just a repellent, and a dull pain flared in my heart to make it bleed an invisible wound.

I don't know how long it was before I heard something in my room other than my sniffles. I just know that Scott tried to call me and I didn't answer any of his calls. I had my head in my blankets and was just crying, sleeping, waking, crying and sleeping. Yet my father came, after several hours. When he sat down on my bed, I jumped up and got out of my sheets so I could see him. He seemed to have shed tears and when his grey irises met mine, I felt something break between us. My heart crumbled in the moment.

"Why did you do that? "

His voice was troubled and his breath smelled of alcohol.

"Why did you make me a culprit?" he asked without daring to touch me.

"You want me, I've heard you say my name when you masturbate at night. Me, that hasn't changed, for more than three years I've wanted you too, I want you so much daddy. "

And I began to sob again as the man next to me sighed in discomfort. I didn't know one could have so many tears to shed and yet, after almost a day of weeping, the water was still dripping from my eyes. I sat back and watched my sire lose himself in the labyrinths of his prohibitions. He looked at me sternly before standing up and holding out his hand.

"Get up. "

His voice was flat, emotionless. Her stormy orbs stared at me without a hint of a reciprocal thought. I was so confused, I didn't know why I felt like everything was disappearing around me. I hesitated, I was afraid, I felt myself falling into the impossible. He repeated his order and, panic-stricken, I did so. I put my hand in his and he helped me out of my bed. Unlike him, I had not dressed and was wearing my pajama shorts. He forced me to follow him and we left my room. He led me down the corridor and I let him do it until we were locked in his room. I didn't understand anything anymore my head was spinning as my whole body was in a state of panic in the absence of explanations.

"Take off your underwear," he said gently.

I watched him take off his shirt and my brain went into a daze. He put the cloth on the old chair next to the wardrobe and began to unzip his trousers. When he noticed that I was staring at him, he gave me a look of encouragement before looking at the only cloth I was wearing.

"You don't want to? "

My only response was a nod up and down and I slipped my boxers off immediately, releasing my already stiff sex. I couldn't believe it and when I saw my father naked in front of me, so big, so strong, so manly, I felt like I was going to die of excitement.

"Why? "

"Because I have no other choice. You turned me into a guilty man by stealing my dreams, I might as well be guilty by finally doing what you want. I drank the whole bottle of whiskey, I cried, but it doesn't take away what I feel. I want you too and no matter how hard I try to hide it, it doesn't work. You really messed with my head, Stiles. I don't understand what's happening to us, but I don't want to lose you. If I keep treating you like you're not normal, you're gonna drift off and do anything and I can't accept that. I love you too much to see you go off the rails. So here we are with this choice and I've decided to stop fighting you. "

He walked naked to his bed, walked around me and sat on the edge of his mattress. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't make out. I was totally stunned and at the same time I felt as if a dream was coming true. I didn't know what to feel anymore. Had I been blackmailing my father to get his dick, to get him to finally take my virginity? He lay down and waited for me to decide to join him. I went timidly and when I pressed myself against his warm body, I heard his relieved sigh. He embraced me immediately and I stroked his belly before touching his swelling cock again.

We looked at each other and I sensed that he wanted me to kiss him. I didn't think about it and climbed on top of him before pressing my lips violently against his to find the sensation of his tongue tickling mine. I had missed it so much. Two years, I had waited two years for the right to have this sensation again. He stroked my back and I loved the feeling of his cock rubbing against mine. We moaned our pleasure together and I wanted more, more and more.

Soon my father was on top of me, between my thighs, and I felt as if I were floating in a beautiful dream. He was so thoughtful and fiery at the same time. He had waited so long to stop resisting his urges, and as he surrendered to our desires, our obviousness became clear to him and to me. All he gave me was pleasure, tenderness mixed with ardor, dreams and shivers caressed on my body too young to bear the intensity for much longer.

"Dad, I'm not going to be able to hold it in. "

I sighed in his ear and he eased his pelvic movement allowing our sexes to masturbate against each other. He kissed my mouth again and left it to work on my neck, my pecs, my belly button. He licked my cock, but didn't linger on it and lifted my buttocks. He looked at me with a questioning look in his eyes and feverishly, I simply wished for whatever he wanted to offer me. I nodded before I felt his tongue on my round. It was weird and at the same time so exciting. I couldn't take it anymore and when I felt him salivate to lubricate me I was just waiting for one thing.

He took the time to prepare me well. He first pushed his index finger into my body and the sensation of penetration was unpleasant before becoming acceptable and then pleasant. He followed the same procedure each time he added a finger and after the third one, he thought I was ready. I really let myself be carried away by his experience, and I had the feeling that even though he had never done this with a man, he knew what to do to avoid pain. My confidence was complete. When he spat into his hand to coat his sex with saliva, my anticipation was at its peak. Then he came, spread my legs to put his glans on my anus and I tensed. He leaned over me, kissed my mouth and whispered.

"Easy, you have to push if you want me to get in without hurting you, okay? "

"Yes. "

I sighed shyly.

"Do you still want to? "

"Yes, please come inside me. "

With his advice, it took less than a minute before my father's big cock was fully inside me. I was in pain, sweating all over, my head was spinning, I didn't know my own name. He jerked me off as I tried to get used to his invasive presence. I felt as if he was pulling me apart yet I didn't want him to come out. I felt my stomach churn, but I refused to listen to all the alarms that were going off in my feverish limbs. I wanted my father to dominate me, I wanted him to deflower me, I wanted him to cum in my guts.

When he started to move, I thought I would faint, but I didn't. He was gentle and after a while everything calmed down to a monstrous, all-consuming desire. He was gentle, and after a moment it all subsided into a monstrous, all-consuming desire. I was the one moving now, looking for my fellow man to pound me. It was not long before he understood and his movements became faster. He came harder and harder into me and I cried out my acceptance with a pleasure that I discovered with him. I didn't know why, but some of his thrusts triggered electric currents throughout my body, as if he had touched a more sensitive spot than the others, a magic spot.

"Dad, yes, oh my God. "

"No, Noah, I am Noah. "

His voice was hoarse when he said this and for a moment I thought I was going to dissolve in pleasure.

"Noah, you're doing me so much good. I'm coming, yes! "

And I ejaculated so hard between our two bodies that I felt like I was disappearing. My father joined me almost immediately and his last thrust was a delight as I came to earth with tears in my eyes. We lay in each other's arms for several minutes, breathless, unable to think. When we broke away, I felt as if I had lost the best part of myself. I felt like crying, but I held back as Noah kissed me with a terribly enchanting softness.

"I knew you were the best. "

I whispered his words like my best secret.

"What will become of us? "

"I don't know, probably cursed lovers. But even if it's forbidden, I want to continue. It was so good, I want to learn how to make you come even harder. Say yes Noah, I beg you. "

My father looked at me with intensity. In his grey orbs, hope fought guilt and passion. He sighed and forced me to cuddle up to his chest, which I did.

"It's okay. "

His voice had not trembled when he said his words, which triggered my joy.

This is how my father finally gave in to my advances. This is how he took my virginity and how our relationship as lovers began. This is how I learned to love a man, to please him, to make him want to love life and to face everyday life with a smile. Today I am twenty-six years old and we have not made love together for five years. Noah remarried last year to Nathalie Martin and I'm with Derek Hale, a man with a wounded past who needs a lot of cuddles and tenderness to heal. But sometimes, when my father and I are alone, we exchange forbidden kisses sprinkled with indecent touches.

To be continued...