A/N: Congratulations to Holy, who is now officially my muse regarding this
storyline. I'm starting to like this kid. ^ ^ This is the second to last
part. I think. Probably . . . I know, I said it'd be lemon, but this part
just jumped me. Next time for sure.
Dang, I'm gonna have to raise the rating of the fic again. ^ ^;;
"Boyfriend"
You're so beautiful, my Daisuke. Just seeing you is enough to make me shiver. You smile at me so very sweetly, even as you smack your son's hand away from the refrigerator door.
"Enough," you say firmly. "Don't eat so much before bed; it's not healthy." He flashes you a pout but resignedly withdraws. He is a legal adult, yet the boy is still as childish as ever and obeys your orders.
Unfortunately, denied food, he seeks other pastimes, such as the ever- popular "Let's See How Far I Can Get With My Boyfriend Before His Dad Snaps" game. Moving in with you was perhaps the best idea I have ever had, but keeping your son off of mine is about as easy as keeping a magnet off of stainless steel. Accurs'd joint custody- this would be far easier if the children lived with Miyako full-time instead of just every other week.
It would also be far easier to get time alone with you. But I love my children dearly, so I can deal with being sexually starved.
Probably.
I think.
How long until Miyako comes back for them again?
I feel badly for wishing that my own progeny were elsewhere, because I really am glad to see them, but I have loved you since childhood and lusted after you for almost as long. I want to cement our bond, to hear our hearts beating as one again . . . to undress you on that wedding night that I always thought to be so impossible and now could well be possible.
I pause in my wistful reverie to lightly smack your son upside the head as his nimble little fingers slip beneath MY son's waistband. He grins at me, utterly unremorseful, and my son blushes. Across the table, my eldest child gives the three of us a dubious look. The youngest is already in bed, curled up with the digimon who apparently are necessary for inducement of the REM cycle.
"Isn't it about time for little boys to go to sleep?" I inquire 'innocently'. Your son's eyes light up, and I smack him again. "Don't even think it."
You snigger behind your hand; then look meaningfully at the door to the hall.
"You are NOT sending me to bed," my daughter protests, looking outraged. "I am a grown woman!" The boys give her mischievous smiles and pounce. They come up carrying her and march off to their rooms, loudly singing an old British fight song to drown out her shrieks of protest.
You laugh, and I nearly melt at the sight of your grin. My beautiful, perfect Daisuke . . . I love you so much. The very same one who forgave me for being the Digital Kaiser as easily as he breathed. Precious, priceless Daisuke.
"Kiss me," I say sudden, my expression perfectly serious but my heart beating like a rabbit's.
You don't answer, instead grabbing my face and pulling me down to you. You could always talk up a blue storm, my Daisuke, but when it comes time to put your money where your mouth is, it's physicality that drives your impulses. I am such a lucky bastard.
Your tongue is suddenly in my mouth, and your hands heading southward, the left finding purchase in my back pocket and the right unbuttoning . . . Oh my. You push me back against the kitchen counter, and I recall that you are probably quite repressed since your wife's passing. She was lovely and as addicted to you as I, but she was also your first and last serious relationship. I cannot see you betraying her memory with one-night stands either.
So, am I your first after her? Am I . . . your first boyfriend?
Boyfriend. Such a childish word . . . Seeming so pure and innocent. When what I want . . . when ALL I want now . . . is . . .
"Fuck me," I whisper.
You are so beautiful.
* tbc . . . *
Final installment coming soon to an Internet near you.
Dang, I'm gonna have to raise the rating of the fic again. ^ ^;;
"Boyfriend"
You're so beautiful, my Daisuke. Just seeing you is enough to make me shiver. You smile at me so very sweetly, even as you smack your son's hand away from the refrigerator door.
"Enough," you say firmly. "Don't eat so much before bed; it's not healthy." He flashes you a pout but resignedly withdraws. He is a legal adult, yet the boy is still as childish as ever and obeys your orders.
Unfortunately, denied food, he seeks other pastimes, such as the ever- popular "Let's See How Far I Can Get With My Boyfriend Before His Dad Snaps" game. Moving in with you was perhaps the best idea I have ever had, but keeping your son off of mine is about as easy as keeping a magnet off of stainless steel. Accurs'd joint custody- this would be far easier if the children lived with Miyako full-time instead of just every other week.
It would also be far easier to get time alone with you. But I love my children dearly, so I can deal with being sexually starved.
Probably.
I think.
How long until Miyako comes back for them again?
I feel badly for wishing that my own progeny were elsewhere, because I really am glad to see them, but I have loved you since childhood and lusted after you for almost as long. I want to cement our bond, to hear our hearts beating as one again . . . to undress you on that wedding night that I always thought to be so impossible and now could well be possible.
I pause in my wistful reverie to lightly smack your son upside the head as his nimble little fingers slip beneath MY son's waistband. He grins at me, utterly unremorseful, and my son blushes. Across the table, my eldest child gives the three of us a dubious look. The youngest is already in bed, curled up with the digimon who apparently are necessary for inducement of the REM cycle.
"Isn't it about time for little boys to go to sleep?" I inquire 'innocently'. Your son's eyes light up, and I smack him again. "Don't even think it."
You snigger behind your hand; then look meaningfully at the door to the hall.
"You are NOT sending me to bed," my daughter protests, looking outraged. "I am a grown woman!" The boys give her mischievous smiles and pounce. They come up carrying her and march off to their rooms, loudly singing an old British fight song to drown out her shrieks of protest.
You laugh, and I nearly melt at the sight of your grin. My beautiful, perfect Daisuke . . . I love you so much. The very same one who forgave me for being the Digital Kaiser as easily as he breathed. Precious, priceless Daisuke.
"Kiss me," I say sudden, my expression perfectly serious but my heart beating like a rabbit's.
You don't answer, instead grabbing my face and pulling me down to you. You could always talk up a blue storm, my Daisuke, but when it comes time to put your money where your mouth is, it's physicality that drives your impulses. I am such a lucky bastard.
Your tongue is suddenly in my mouth, and your hands heading southward, the left finding purchase in my back pocket and the right unbuttoning . . . Oh my. You push me back against the kitchen counter, and I recall that you are probably quite repressed since your wife's passing. She was lovely and as addicted to you as I, but she was also your first and last serious relationship. I cannot see you betraying her memory with one-night stands either.
So, am I your first after her? Am I . . . your first boyfriend?
Boyfriend. Such a childish word . . . Seeming so pure and innocent. When what I want . . . when ALL I want now . . . is . . .
"Fuck me," I whisper.
You are so beautiful.
* tbc . . . *
Final installment coming soon to an Internet near you.
