Daddy Issues (Patreon)

Summary: Two men find new things about each other at the end of the roughest day of their lives.

He used to love everything about his dad.

He took in the other’s profile. The light filtered through the window pane made everything look softer. The sun was coming out, and it was already the end of the day.

It had rained the entire day. It made regrets linger so much more. Their clothes were on hangers, left to dry in the other room that served both as a kitchenette and whatever the temporary guest wanted to use it for.

None of them had wanted to use an umbrella the entire time. He had had no use for one. The rain falling down his shoulders made rivulets of cold water infiltrate under the collar, and run down his back, soaking him through.

He knew his own reasons. He could only imagine the other’s. But staring at that face, now and then, was making him clench his hands into fists and held them tight to his sides wanting, no, needing to just smash someone’s face in. 

They had said nothing, the entire time. But now, in that small cramp room, it felt like they should. 

“You didn’t give a speech,” he talked first.

A non-committal grunt was the only answer.

“You should have,” he added, and he wanted his words to sound harsh and unforgiving, but they just came out like spoken by someone much younger.

The other turned towards him. His eyes were impenetrable, the same cornflower blue, darkened by long lashes. 

“What’s it to you, anyway?”

He could feel his teeth trying to bare and show and preferably take a huge chunk out of an asshole.

“It was your job,” he hissed, managing to leave that vulnerable self behind.

“Who says that?”

The other’s voice was tired and winded, like a screw tied too much, trying to bite into the wood.

“It pisses me off, you know?” he said through his teeth. “Do you know what? Most of all?”

“You won’t leave me alone until you tell me, so just get it off your chest, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that!”

The other snorted.

“Really, you’re pathetic. Just shout in my face, if that’ll make you happy. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Nothing will ever make me happy.”

The smile was eerie, manic.

“Aren’t you a bit absurd? It’s not like we’re kids anymore. You’ll live.”

He jumped from his side of darkness and grabbed the other by the shoulders. They looked into each other’s eyes for a few long moments.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled.

“What? That I look just like him? See? I’m not that insensitive.”

He let go of the other and sat back on his bed. 

“You think that your pain just justifies everything. That it just tramples all,” the other continued.

This time, he just chose to remain silent.

“Alright, since you’re not willing to talk, I’ll do it for you. No matter what kind of a god’s shadow you think he threw over your life, he was nothing but a man.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you ever stop and think about your mom? How unfair all this is to her?”

“Shut up, I said!”

“And even now, you still take his side. Why? He wasn’t even YOUR real father.”

Words were not enough. In a second, they were on the floor, wrestling, ignoring how naked and empty they both were, as they said nothing, not even to throw insults because they were well beyond that point, and words made no sense either way.

He trapped the other under him, pinning him to the ground. A few raven strands were glued to a tall forehead, and blue eyes stared at him, without hate and confusion, just as impenetrable as before.

He didn’t know what to do. Rough hands moved from his biceps, from keeping him away to his nape, to pull him close and caress him. 

Then their mouths came together, and he poured in his desperation. And it was nothing like his dreams, his old fantasies, dusty and buried somewhere between a horny’s teenager imagination and a man who knew what he could not have. It was raw, spicy and rough, and he wondered if that was how HE tasted.

Hindsight was always 20/20. He tried to withdraw, but the same hands that even felt like they belonged to the same person cupped his cheeks, and thumbs caressed the tightness in his jaw and tendons.

“Just go for it, if this is what you want,” the other said simply.

It was so much easier said than done. There were rough planes, and hard muscles everywhere, and it was like he could not find his way in, no matter what. He heard the other spitting, and he just moved away slightly to let him. 

He followed the other’s hand with his fingers, understanding what he was doing. He hurried to replace the fingers moving in and out, wondering why it felt so tight, and how they were going to do it, anyway. Yet, as his fingers understood the rhythm and tightness gave in little by little, there was a sudden surge of something else, totally different from what he felt before.

“It’s okay now,” the other spoke firmly, and he followed the indirect order, trying to push in, and now realizing what it meant.

For long seconds, the hot tunnel let him in little by little. And the strangest thing of all was not just how he hard was, and how hot the other was, but how whole he felt all of a sudden. So he began moving, embracing both the familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, letting that wonder and pain happen, because he was allowed to and even if the body sweating and shifting slightly under him was not HIS, it made him finally whole.

He could feel the other’s hardness trapped between their bodies. He liked feeling it. The other pushed him a little further, and he growled. 

“Don’t be such an idiot.”

He wasn’t an idiot. But he could not bear being away, even just an inch. The other protested with a soft sigh. But he didn’t let go and just continued to crash the other with his body, superior in size and power. And just moved and moved, drinking in the other’s repressed moans until he could feel his entire body getting tighter and the release exploded deep inside.

Regret and longing replaced the high, as he was finally pushed away, and the other got on his feet.

“Hey,” he tried to reach for the other.

“Don’t worry,” his hand was refused. “At least, now you know.”

They lay each one in his own bed. For a long time, he stared at the other’s back. They were already so far away.

“He was the best father a kid like me could have,” he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Maybe. I guess.”

“It never mattered that he was not my biological father.”

The other said nothing.

“I envied you.”

“Yeah. You’re stupid like that.”

“I loved him. All my life. Only him.”

“Then you’re lucky,” the other said back. “Because he did love YOU back.”

He buried his face into the pillow and did the one thing he couldn’t do the entire day.