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The door opened, letting out a blast of sweet air-conditioning, and then closed behind Travis to shut out the warmth of the morning. The wolf panted harshly, tongue lolling from his slack jaw as he stretched with a long groan. He paused, sniffed the air, and then grinned as he kicked his shoes off and then tromped through the living room of the small, comfy house and into the kitchen.

There, cooking breakfast while humming tunelessly, was his father. The older wolf poked at a few eggs with the spatula in one meaty paw, shifting from foot to foot as his tail waved behind him. Travis took in the sight for a long moment with a warm smile; his father, despite the old dog's shaggy, burly appearance, had always been the domestic type, and Travis could remember sights like this every morning while he'd grown up. His father cooking breakfast, a smile on his face as he greeted the morning. Occasionally glancing out the large kitchen window to the backyard. Lost in his own world.

Travis' eyes began to wander, following the movement of his father's wagging tail. Underneath it, to the older wolf's plump, firm rump. It was just them boys, so modesty had been relaxed for years ever since Travis' mom walked out on them. His father would always go around the house in a pair of old briefs and a ragged wifebeater, completely unconcerned for the show he might be giving to any interested onlookers.

The show he was giving his son.

Travis finally moved forward, making sure to make his footsteps heavy and loud on the linoleum floor, and his father's ear twitched as the younger wolf moved up behind the older male. "Hey son. G'morning."

"Morning, dad." Travis embraced his father from behind, his arms making the older wolf's shirt ride up just enough to expose the curve of his father's fledgling gut, and laid his cheek on the other male's nape. "Breakfast smells good."

"Hope you're hungry, cuz I made a lot." Trent, Travis' father, patted his sons' forearm with his free hand. "Have a good run?"

"Yeah. I'm starving." Travis let out a long groan as he settled on his father's back. He could feel the pleasant pain settling into his joints and bones; the evidence of a good workout. "Coach wants us running every day. Gotta keep in shape for the meets coming up." He paused, fingers trailing over the soft material of his father's shirt. "Wish you could come with me more. Go running together like over the summer."

"Eh, probably should. Could stand to lose this old spare tire." Trent laughed, his hand falling off his son's forearm to pat at his gut. As he scratched at it, Travis could feel the older wolf's shirt riding a little higher. Exposing more of his father's abdomen. "But with work and everything, I can't afford to get all hot n' sweaty with you every morning, no matter how much I want to."

Again, the older wolf laughed. Travis laughed. Both men trying to ignore the subtle shift in the air between them. The son's hand had found its way to his father's stomach, and his fingers had started to idly scratch at the exposed fur. Trent shifted under his son, and the younger wolf's package settled right into the cleft of his father's ass. Just a few layers of clothing separating their bodies from each other.

Trent cleared his throat, and they both ignored the slight hitch in his voice. "Well, it's all ready, so get some plates and I'll serve it up."

"Yeah." Quickly, but so reluctantly, Travis pulled away from the older wolf and turned to rifle through an overhead cabinet for some plates. It was fine. Everything was fine. Just a father and son having breakfast together on a Saturday. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and handed the plates off to Trent, who piled them high with eggs and bacon. "Smells delicious, dad."

"Ain't the only thing in here that does." Travis heard that. He blushed, holding his plate up against his chest and sniffing at the air. The faint scent of rich, masculine musk wafted from under his arms, mingling with the smell of breakfast lingering in the kitchen. He looked to his father, and Trent looked back at his son; the two held each others' gazes for a long, frozen moment.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that."

Trent hesitated, and then grinned and reached out to ruffle between Travis' perked ears. "Said it sure does. Now come on, let's get it to the table and dig in, yeah?"

"Yeah..." The two wolves took their plates over to the small, rickety kitchen table near the window, sitting across from each other. Travis began to wolf down his breakfast, if only to keep his mind busy; stop it from wandering as one socked hindpaw stretched out and brushed his father's under the table. Don't think about it. Don't acknowledge it. That was the rule in their house; had been ever since his dad had stumbled on his porn stash.

"You even tasting it, boy?" Travis looked up to meet Trent's gaze once more. The older wolf was grinning at him over the rim of his coffee cup. He looked so handsome, even with--because of--the graying fur on the tips of his ears and across his muzzle. Even with--because of--the shaggy tuft sticking out of the low-cut neck of his wifebeater, and the rise of his 'spare tire' underneath. Travis didn't say it, though; didn't mention it, didn't acknowledge the butterflies that took flight in his stomach every time their eyes locked.

Instead, Travis returned his dad's grin and nodded. "Yeah, it's delicious, dad. Thanks for putting it together."

"Mm." The older wolf glanced down at his own plate and tucked a forkful of eggs into his mouth while, below, his hindpaw pressed back against Travis'.

Breakfast was polished off quickly as the two fell into a comfortable silence with each other. It was nice; domestic, even. Travis relished the times he could spend with his father like this; when his father was home, and he had the weekend off from school, and they could enjoy each others' company. Really enjoy it. Once more, he felt his cheeks heating up as his thoughts wandered. While Trent was looking away--distracted by his own thoughts, probably--Travis reached down to undo the tie of his athletic shorts. "I'll take care of the dishes, 'kay dad?"

"Appreciate it, Travis." The old wolf nodded, and the younger wolf stood to collect both his and his father's plates. He could feel his father's eyes on him as he turned and made his way to the kitchen sink, shifting his thighs against each other as he walked. This was an old pair, and the elastic had snapped somewhere along the way, so the loosened waistband of his shorts was pulled down a little bit by the swaying of the young wolf's hips. Almost. Just a little further.

Travis reached the sink, humming to himself casually as he turned the water on and began scrubbing. The young wolf pressed his waist against the kitchen counter and, with a quick shift, used it to push his waistband down far enough that he could shimmy right out of his shorts. Travis could feel them fall around his ankles, feel the cool air brushing through the fur of his bare ass--he was in only a jockstrap, leaving his backside completely uncovered now--and feel his father's gaze on his rump. Still occupying his mind and hands with the dishes, the young wolf stepped out of his shorts, spread his legs, and hiked his tail up.

Travis' heart pounded in his chest as he heard the scraping of a chair against the linoleum floor. Heard the footsteps moving up behind him. Heard his father's breathing in his ear, and smelled the bacon, eggs, and coffee on the older wolf's breath. After another long, infinite moment of hesitation between the two males, Trent embraced his son from behind. His arms wrapped around his son's chest--careful not to brush the pert nipples crowning each slim, firm pectoral and poking up under the fabric of the younger wolf's thin shirt--as his own chest and gut rested on Travis' back. Neither of them acknowledged the way Travis pushed his ass back into Trent's crotch, the older wolf's pendulous package settling into the cleft beneath his son's raised tail.

"You, uh... you managing okay, boy?"

"Yeah, dad. Just fine." Neither of them acknowledged the stutter in Travis' voice. The breathiness of his muffled moan as they pressed against each other. As long as they didn't acknowledge it, they could go farther, farther, right to the edge.

"Looks like you dropped something, Travis. Want me to get it for you?"

"Please..." He was just pleading for his dad's help with picking up whatever was on the floor. He wasn't at all pleading for the things his father's low, rumbling, panting voice was implying. Travis turned the water off and leaned forward, feeling the nuzzle of his father's cheek against the nape of his neck. The younger wolf reached backward to grasp his toned, trim asscheeks and shifted to widen his stance while Trent kneeled down behind him. He didn't acknowledge the low moan of approval as he spread his ass wide open for the older wolf; didn't acknowledge the feather-light touches of Trent's muzzle brushing against the sweat-and-musk-damp fur of his asscheeks, or the rush of air over his dank, winking pucker as the older wolf inhaled. He could hear his father sniffing, though, smelling his scent and musk; and Travis wished desperately for more. He wished that Trent would shove his snout forward so he could feel his dad's nose on his hole, his tongue on his balls. Like in the porn in his stash. The porn that Trent had stumbled onto when Travis left his computer open before taking a post-fap shower; pictures and stories of fathers and sons doing the same things they were doing with each other, and going even further. The porn that Travis had walked in on his father masturbating to.

Trent shifted, his snuffling sinking down to the musky pit behind his son's balls. So close, almost touching, but not close enough to touch. That would break the rules. As long as they didn't acknowledge when they did things like this, they could look all they wanted. They could smell, and if they were lucky, they could taste. But they couldn't touch.

"Dad..."

"Mm..." Trent let out a soft grunt. Quickly, but so reluctantly, the older wolf pulled his face away from his son's ass. He grabbed Travis' discarded shorts, picking them up off the floor as he rose back up to his feet. When the younger wolf turned around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, he saw the older wolf lifting his shorts to his snout. Saw the way his father sniffed at them, all along the crotch as their eyes locked. Saw the desire in his father's eyes--desire that was surely reflected in Travis' own--as their bulges--the tents in their respective underwear--ground together. "Lost somethin', Puppy."

Travis' heart leapt into his throat as he muffled a lustful groan, and it took all his willpower not to grasp his father's hips. It would be so easy to pull Trent's briefs down and the pouch of his jock aside, and let their pulsing, leaking erections rub against each other. So easy to beg his Daddy to put him up on the counter, spread his legs, and shove that thick, long shaft deep into him. He wanted it. He knew for a fact his father wanted it.

But the rules stayed in place. The rules they'd hashed out during the long, awkward, painful conversation with each other after Travis first saw his father blow a massive load of cum all over himself. After he'd come out to his father about everything--his lust for men, and for Trent especially--and found his desire answered. No talking about it. And no touching. Otherwise, anything goes.

"Yeah, thanks for finding it for me, Daddy." Vocalizing that childish word made him feel like a puppy again; one who wanted to feel his father's arms around him, to hear the older wolf's heartbeat in his ears as he rested his head on Daddy's chest, and to know that everything was as it should be. Even if he was in his Senior year of highschool, even if he was, by all accounts, an adult; an adult with adult desires for the handsome, sexy, beautiful man his mother had left behind. He reached up, setting his hands on his father's shoulders--this was okay, this was how fathers and sons could touch each other--and gulped to wet his dry throat. "You lose anything you need help finding?"

Trent hummed, his eyes lighting up a bit. He had caught on to the game Travis wanted to play, and seemed to understand how they could bend the rules by playing it with each other. "I seem to've lost my shirt, Puppy. It's my favorite, been wearing it for a while. All night and this morning." He lifted his torso off of his son's, which pushed their bulges closer together--that was alright, since their underwear prevented their crotches from really touching--and smiled. "Can you see if you can find it for me?"

The younger wolf nodded, and again he gulped. His hands moved to the hem of his father's shirt, gripping and fisting in the thin fabric, and dragged it upward to free his father's gut. His fingers brushed through the shaggy, grey-tipped fur of the older wolf's sides as he pulled it up further, freeing the firm pectorals sitting above the rise of Trent's stomach. Trent lifted his arms up, and as Travis pulled the wifebeater up and off, the younger wolf pushed forward to snuffle into the tuft in one of his father's armpits.

Scent. Musk. Rich and warm and masculine, and yet soothing. Paternal. Nostalgic somehow, like a night cuddled together under a blanket and watching tv together. Completely and utterly his father.

"Found my shirt yet, Puppy?"

"Hm?" Travis cracked an eye open, gazing up at his father's soft, gentle expression as he nuzzled into the older wolf's pit. "Nah. Think I need to look around a bit more."

"Go ahead, son." They both knew what Trent was giving his permission for.

The younger wolf wrapped his arms around the older male's waist once more, hugging his father. Embracing the man he loved, adored, and lusted over. This was fine, fathers and sons hugged like this all the time. Neither acknowledged the wetness of their precum-soaked bulges rubbing and pushing and humping together. Neither acknowledged the way Travis huffed his father's scent from one armpit and then the other, pushing his snout deep into the musky tufts of fur to rub against the sweaty flesh underneath. Neither acknowledged the scent of the other's arousal hazing their minds.

"Puppy..." Over and over, Trent crooned and whispered and moaned the word into his son's ear. He hadn't called Travis that in years--like Travis hadn't called the older wolf 'Daddy' in years--until that night they'd first seen each other like this. Now, the word that had been said with quiet, paternal affection every time he hugged his young son--every time they cuddled with each other, and every time the younger Travis had needed comfort or support from his father--was filled to the brim with hot, broiling, barely-contained lust that made them both shiver and shudder against each other. "...Why don't we start looking on the couch, Puppy?" Trent nipped at his son's flicking ear before he pulled away, leaving his son panting and gasping and leaning heavily on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah."

Travis followed behind his father, staring with open desire at the older wolf now that they weren't face-to-face. Again, the younger wolf appreciated just how handsome--how sexy--his father was as they settled onto opposite ends of the couch. Trent threw his son's shorts onto the floor, and Travis tossed his father's shirt on top of them. The younger wolf's own shirt followed as he pulled it off with a showy moan, and he could feel his father's eyes raking over his slim, toned chest as they turned towards each other and lounged together.

"Any luck out here, Puppy?"

"Nah, Daddy." Travis shook with suppressed laughter at the continued pretense between them, and raised his arms up to rest them behind his head. Under his father's watchful eye, the younger wolf dipped his snout down into one of his own armpits to breathe in his own sweaty, pungent scent. "Lost my shirt, though."

"I can see that." Trent's hand rubbed up and down his chest, over his pectorals and down his gut, while he looked to his son. Open, naked desire burned in the older wolf's eyes, going unacknowledged by either of them; even when Trent cupped the fat, heavy bulge in his briefs and gave it a slow, hard squeeze. They both knew what the other wanted.

"Might lose my jock, too, if I'm not careful." Travis made sure that his father's eyes were watching as he lowered his arms to grip the straps of the only garment separating him from complete nudity. The younger wolf tugged, and the straining tent in his pouch pulsed and bounced and threatened to free itself to the older wolf's gaze.

"Real shame that'd be." The older wolf rumbled, his hand continuing to cup and rub and tease his own throbbing tent as his thumb hooked under the elastic of his own underwear. He shifted on the couch, turning further towards the younger wolf across from him and even setting one hindpaw on the cushion between them. Slowly, ever so slowly, Trent worked his briefs down to expose the tuft of his treasure trail to his son's hungry gaze. The base of his sheath, and the first few inches of his erection.

"Yeah." Travis mirrored his father, and once more their hind paws pressed and rubbed together--fathers and sons played pawsie with each other all the time, right?--as his jock slid down his slim hips. Inch by inch, both males exposed themselves completely. Travis whimpered as his cock bent down with the tight pouch of his jock, and then sprung up to slap against his stomach. Trent groaned as his erection bobbed free of his briefs, and shifted on the couch to shimmy them off his ass and down his legs.

They were finally both naked, their cocks pulsing and dribbling in the open air. Travis stared at the malehood that had given him life with open, awe-filled reverence, and Trent's eyes raked over his puppy's--the man his puppy had grown up into--athletic form. The younger male grinned--didn't speak, didn't acknowledge the lust in his father's gaze--but stroked up and down his stomach and chest with one hand as he grasped his cock with the other. Teased the tapered head and down the angry-red shaft to the growing knot at the base. Rubbed his fingertips into the creases between his thighs and balls, under the full, plump orbs and into his taint, and then lifted them to his nose to take a long, deep sniff. Trent, in return, grasped his own shaft and pumped, slow and steady and show-offy, while the two wolves locked gazes with each other.

With a quick shimmy and a kick of his leg, Travis' jock flew off his ankle to land on his father's chest. In return, Trent balled up his discarded briefs and, with a light toss, sent them flying to land on his son's shoulder. Travis moaned and eagerly grabbed them up, pressing the balled-up fabric to his nose and pumping his cock while the scents staining the briefs washed through his mind. Here, the stain of the older wolf's precum, wetting his nose and filling his lungs with the smell of the older male's vilirity. There, the place where his sheath opening had rubbed and pressed and ground against the pouch all night and morning. The rich, musk of his father's dribbling hard-on; the cock that had given him life, and the cock he wanted buried inside of him more than any other. Down further in the crotch, the pungent scent of his father's sweaty balls--those heavy orbs that hung and swung between his Daddy's powerful thighs, teasing and tempting him--and further down, the darker, richer musk of his father's taint.

Travis could see his father sniffing all over his jock pouch as well. Grinding it against his eager nose, and breathing in the younger male's own scent. The older wolf's paw squeezed his erection as it flew up and down the shaft. Paused to cup and rub his balls, and--Travis gasped and moaned at the sight--push a finger down into his own cleft. Trent gazed at his son with pleasure-hazed eyes. Lust-drunk and horny. Needy.

Faster and faster, the two began to pump and stroke their cocks. Inhaling the musk of the other male off of the underwear pressed to their snouts, and out of the air of the living room. Panting and groaning out, wordless; they didn't need words now, even with the rules in place. Their eyes said it all.

'Daddy, your cock smells so good.'

'Go on, Puppy. Sniff Daddy's dirty underwear. You love it, don't you.'

'I want it, Daddy. I want you. Fuck me. Fuck my ass and my throat with that big fucking cock of yours.'

'Fuck, Puppy. I want that pretty snout of yours right up on my hole. Want you smelling my cock and ass and pits all day.'

'I need it, Daddy... I need you.'

"Oh fuck, Puppy...!" Trent groaned out in bliss as his eyes clenched shut. Travis leaned forward, watching expectantly as his father's stroking grew faster and more desperate, until the older wolf finally threw his head back and howled out his orgasm. That thick, long, fatherly cock spurting rope after rope of potent cum onto Trent's belly. The slick sound of Trent's pre-smeared hand rubbing the orgasming flesh, and the virile scent of the older male's seed filling the room to mingle with the smell of two sweaty, masculine bodies in the throes of pleasure. The smell of sex; the hard, fast, gay, incestuous sex they wanted to have with each other.

"Daddy!" It was too much. Travis' hips pumped up into his grip as the spring that had been winding in his crotch finally snapped. He blew his load all over himself, feeling the splashing and splattering of his cum on his stomach and chest, and wished desperately that it was his father's.

The two panted. Sighed. Looked at each other as they shared a moment of shameless sexual bliss; attraction to and desire for each other. Travis used his father's briefs to wipe up the cum splattering his body, and Trent did the same with his son's jock. Quickly, but so reluctantly, father and son traded underwear and pulled the garments--the shields protecting them from their own desires--back on. Only then did Travis move over on the couch to settle in against his father, slinging an arm over the older wolf's chest and laying his cheek on Trent's shoulder. Only then did Trent embrace his son, stroking up and down the younger wolf's back as he felt Travis press against him. Only then did the words that had been roiling within them come spilling out.

"Love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, Puppy."

They had all day together; all day to not acknowledge what they'd just done with each other, even as they felt the other male's cum smearing through and drying on their crotch fur. All day to give each other longing, needy looks, to tease each other, and to lean over the brink before pulling back right as they teetered on the edge. They had all day to follow their rules. But here, in this lawless, post-orgasmic moment, they could be more for a little while; they could be what they both wanted. Father and son--Trent and Travis--could look, and they could touch.