"Oh, Tyson, it's really hard to explain… umm, my own daddy, and my uncle, not Granddad, another uncle of mine… they were sick in the head. They thought that it was okay to hurt me very badly, and lots of times. They had some friends who were also sick in the head… you know how we all have private places that we don't let others touch?" Greg started, trying to think of some way to explain this in the most age-appropriate way he could think of, and Tyson nodded; "well; because of the sickness in their heads, they didn't understand that, and they hurt daddy. There are some people like that in the world, Tyson, which is why Papa and I are so protective of you and Charlie because you can't tell who is sick in the head, and who isn't, just by looking at them. Most people are not sick in the head, but some people are, which is why I don't leave you or Charlie with anyone who I don't know. Do you know what I mean? And that's also why you need to take it very seriously if anybody touches you in a private place, or if they ask you to touch them in a private place; that no matter what they might say, you come straight to Papa or me, and we will sort it out straight away, okay? No matter who it is,"
"Okay daddy, but daddy… how did they touch you? How did they hurt you?" Tyson asked curiously, and Greg held up a halting hand.
"No, Tyson, we're not getting into that. You just need to promise me that if anyone asks you to do something private, or if they ever do anything to you; then you come straight to me or Papa, got it?" Greg responded, sounding more serious than Tyson could ever remember him sounding, "we'll sort it out if that ever happens, you got it? You promise me, okay?"
Tyson nodded, "okay, daddy, I promise. Does Papa know how they hurt you?"
"Yeah buddy, he knows. But Papa is a grown up, he can handle it. You're a kid, you shouldn't need to worry about such things. I'm the parent, it's not in my job description to tell you in detail things in the past, in my past. My job is to protect you, and to protect Charlie, okay?" Greg answered to which Tyson just nodded and passed Greg a video game controller, which he took with a smile, "I'm not going to let you win this game, Ty,"
"You did good today, you know that?" James stated late that night, as he pulled off his shirt and laid down in bed.
"What are you talking about?" Greg questioned, unbuckling his belt and jeans, letting them drop to the floor where he stood, before pulling his shirt off over his head.
"With Tyson, this morning before breakfast, the way that you explained things to him. It was really well done, you know? Maybe he'll stop pestering you about South Dakota now," James continued, "but seriously, it was age appropriate, you told him that you were hurt but didn't go into details, as well as slipping in the talk about us sorting out anyone who'd ever even dream of hurting him or Charlie, and then changed the subject when he pushed for information he didn't need to know. You did well, Greg,"
"I wouldn't bet on the South Dakota stuff stopping, and how'd you hear all of that? Were you hiding under a cloak of invisibility strapped to the ceiling or something?" Greg laughed, pulling back the blanket and climbing into bed, as James watched and shook his head with a smile on his face.
"Thin walls. They're like paper in this house," he murmured, running the tips of his fingers up Greg's side under the comforter, feeling his soft, sensitive skin, and smiling slyly as he felt him pull away ticklishly; before James leant forward to kiss him thirstily with his left hand wrapped possessively around the back of Greg's neck and his right hand that had been tracing gently up and down Greg's side was now gently going over Greg's underwear, cupping and gently massaging his cock and tickling at his balls, sending shivers of excitement down Greg's spine, as James pulled away and looked up at him, his mouth slightly agape with a spreading smile across James' face as he could feel Greg swell to attention underneath his hand.
"Fuck James, I love you so much," Greg gasped, leaning his head back against the bedhead, white knuckling the bedsheets with one hand and knotting his fingers through his long mane of hair as he felt James' vacuum like mouth grip wrapped around his cock, as James pulled off Greg's cock just long enough to douse his right index and middle fingers in saliva and slipped one and then two fingers inside of Greg, gently massaging his prostate as Greg felt his eyes roll back in ecstasy. "Just like that, Jimmy, don't stop," Greg panted several minutes later, feeling his back arch and then sharply gasp as James dropped the back of his tongue and swallowed Greg's cum as he panted.
James crawled back up the bed, "now it's Jimmy's turn," he said with a widening smile, and a tiny drop of cum dripping down from his lip. James grabbed several pillows and shoved them under Greg's hips, kicking off his pyjama pants and grabbing the bottle of lube from next to the bed, before leaning forward to kiss him in the missionary position while Greg started to try and help James become completely erect. James grabbed Greg's wrists and held them above his head with his left hand while using his right to excite himself, before covering his cock in lubrication and first slipping his fingers back inside of Greg, stretching him out slightly and preparing him; before he shoved his hard cock deep inside of his husband.
Greg gasped and instinctively wriggled underneath James' body, who paused him before beginning to fuck him slowly, before speeding up. James looked down and made eye contact with Greg; whose blue eyes were so dilated that they almost looked black as he gasped and stared back into James' own eyes, full of excitement and horniness. James leant forward, using his free hand to pull Greg's face up towards his own as he kissed him with passion and thirst, starting to thrust harder and faster; feeling Greg groan into his mouth. James pushed Greg's head back and wrapped that same hand around the front of Greg's throat, harsh enough that it was certainly easily felt, but not so hard that it would restrict necessary breath. James' hair fell forward; enclosing and framing his face and his eyes, black with desire, so that was all that Greg could see. A warm sensation ran up James' spine as he pushed himself in completely; feeling his cock twitch as he came deep inside of Greg and held it deep in there for a moment or two until he had completely emptied himself, before pulling out, and collapsing next to Greg.
"I fucking love you," James panted, looking over at Greg, who'd just exhaustedly pulled the pillows and rolled up blanket out from underneath his hips, and smiled back at James.
"'I fucking love you', or 'I love fucking you'?" Greg asked with a smile.
"Both, baby. I am so thrilled and happy to have you as my husband, as my forever person," James grinned, still slightly out of breath, "man, are we getting old? Why is one round each feeling this exhausting?"
"I think it's just middle age setting in," Greg grinned back raising a hand jokingly to shift around James' hair, "is that a grey hair I see?"
"Fuck off," James giggled, swatting his hand away, "at least I still have all my hair,"
"Ouch, right below the belt!" Greg laughed, pulling James in close, who rested on his chest over Greg's heart, running his fingers through James' magnificent dark mane, and sighed contently, as they both drifted off to sleep.
"Daddy?" came a little voice, and then Greg felt a tiny finger poke him in his closed eye.
"Oh, what the fuck?" he grumbled still asleep, smacking the hand away, tossing his head away.
"Daddy!" the voice became more insistent, and poked him in the eye again, before she pushed a finger up each nostril, which succeeded in waking Greg up to see two dark brown eyes staring up at him, "daddy!" Charlie repeated.
"What Charlie? What the hell is it? Why are you waking me up?" Greg growled, "and don't stick your fingers up my nose or poke me in the eye, thanks,"
"Hypothetically," Charlie began, and Greg sighed, she'd recently picked up the word 'hypothetically' upon hearing a conversation between himself and James the week prior and had started saying it enough that it was beginning to drive Greg nuts. "Hypothetically, if I put a fork in the microwave, would it explode?"
"I guess," Greg frowned, "why are you asking me this?"
"Hypothetically, how long would it take to explode?" Charlie continued, and Greg sat up in bed, James muttering in his sleep as he rolled off Greg's chest but rolled over and settled back to sleep.
"Probably a few minutes… Charlie, did you put a fork in the microwave?" Greg felt concern rising.
"Hypothetically," she nodded.
"Charlie! When did you put a fork in the microwave?" Greg yelled, and James stirred next to him.
"How long have we been talking?" Charlie asked.
"Oh my God," Greg pushed her to the side, grabbed his pants from next to the bed and pulled them on, before standing up and feeling the world spin around him as his mind rushed in panic trying to think of how they could get everyone out safely before the tinderbox of a house went up in flames.
"April Fool's!" Charlie laughed, and Greg turned his head to regard her darkly.
"Charlie, it's fucking February 8th!" Greg gasped, clutching his chest in panic, feeling his heart racing and thumping visibly underneath his hand and feeling like his throat was about to close up, "you kids are going to kill me one day, you know that?"
"Well, you would expect it if I did it on April Fool's Day," Charlie continued, "hypothetically,"
"I don't think you understand what 'hypothetically' means. My God, I let you kids get away with too much," Greg growled, shaking his head, when an explosion rocked the house, which shook James awake, before the smoke alarm began blaring loudly.
"Who put a fork in the fucking microwave?" Greg heard Rob scream from upstairs, followed by the sound of the fire extinguisher blasting.
"What is happening?" James sat bolt upright in bed.
"Hypothetically," Charlie grinned, and James saw a look of pure darkness and fury creep across Greg's face.
"Charlie Gallagher!" Greg roared and smacked her hard across the backside as Charlie let out a screaming wail, before Greg took a shaking step back trying desperately to compose his temper, staring down at her with an infuriated glare, raising his fists up towards the sides of his head and clenching his teeth in frustration and fury. "She lit the fucking kitchen on fire! These fucking kids!" Greg screamed before he stormed upstairs, leaving James to comfort Charlie, while simultaneously reminding her that it was irresponsible, stupid, and her fault for putting a fork in the microwave. Greg stomped downstairs a few minutes later and pulled Charlie to the edge of the bed by her arm, "go upstairs! Go! I don't want to fucking see you right now! Get! Go! And I'm selling some of your toys to pay for that fucking microwave you just broke!" he stomped his foot, and Charlie jumped off the bed and ran upstairs in tears as Greg watched her through narrowed eyes filled with anger and repulsion.
"Greg, you have to calm down," James mumbled, "she's only a little girl, she didn't mean to do that… it was… a science experiment, I guess. Is the fire out?"
"Yeah, the fire is fucking out. Get up, we've got to go buy a new fucking microwave now," Greg yanked the blanket back and threw clothes at James, "I'm sick to death of these fucking kids thinking that they can do shit like try and burn the fucking house down and then gloat and laugh about it! Do you have any idea how much shit I would've been in if I pulled a stunt like that as a kid?"
"Well, luckily for everyone, you're not your father," James placated.
"What? You think that she should just get away with it?" Greg yelled, digging through his clothes in the drawer.
"Absolutely not," James agreed, pulling on his clothes, "we could've all died. But… actually, no, I can't think of a justification aside from the fact that she's four, and even that's pushing it. She's not a toddler anymore,"
"That's goddamn right. Besides, it was only a tiny smack on the bum. Goddamn I'd have been lucky to get away with broken bones if I had done that," Greg snapped, "come on, let's go buy a new fucking microwave,"
"I'm selling all her toys," Greg growled as he and James walked through the aisles of Target, "you can't stop me, I'm her father too. Those fucking kids get away with way too much, I've been too permissive with them,"
"No, I agree with the idea of selling her toys," James agreed, as he tiredly leant over the handlebar of the shopping cart as he pushed it and stifled a yawn; "microwaves aren't cheap, and yeah, maybe we've been a bit soft with them. Been too terrified of becoming like our own fathers that we've swung too far the other way and become far too soft, they need to learn right from wrong before one of them does end up burning the house down or hurting themselves or someone else by doing some dumb shit," he pulled a plain black microwave off the shelf, "here, this one is the cheapest, it'll do. On top of car payments, the mortgage, and the cost of therapy and everything else, we need to stick to the cheaper options and start living more within our means," and Greg grunted in agreement.
On the drive back, James smiled over at Greg while they were stopped at a traffic light, "how about, when we get home, we throw out the murdered microwave into the garbage, and then we head downstairs, lock the door; I'll give you a nice massage and get you all nice and relaxed, and then we can pick up where we left off last night?"
Greg turned and smiled over at him, leaning forward to give him a kiss, and sighed in contentment, glad that now the microwave debacle was behind them. "I'd love that, my amazing, wonderful, handsome, perfect husband," he smiled relaxedly back at James.