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Foundations

By Kenneth Beltan

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Author's note: I wrote this for my friend Nieve. In one of his universes, his characters Blake and Quentin, a son and his father respectively, actually have a sexual relationship. This story speculates how it came to be. It's fairly self-contained, but here are a few notes for the bits that aren't so that anyone can read it without too much confusion.

Quentin, the father, is a widower. His wife was a police officer with the New Orleans PD; she was killed in the line of duty about six years prior to this story. After that, he brought Blake back to New York City, the one place he had always felt most at home. They live in Brooklyn Heights. Quentin is bisexual with a heavy male leaning, hence why he's into men. He makes his living as a professor of English Literature at the City University of New York at Harlem. Quentin is from southern England (his wife was from the US, but her father, a military man, was stationed in England, hence how the two met). Blake spent his formative years growing up in New Orleans and never reliqunished his sexy southern drawl which he uses to charm but also fool people into underestimating him.

The Parrish family knows Nieve Urquhart, who is the head of the NYC Public Library. In the universe in which Nieve and I romp about, he also has a husband of some five odd centuries, an English fox named Edward. As you may know, Nieve is an Immortal, and so is Edward. They can also do magic. They keep all that secret, apparently aging over their lives, and eventually putting on the charade of dying so they can begin a new life, often in a much younger body, being able to revert to whatever physical age they like. In this world, they also have an adult son who doesn't feature in this tale. Immortals only sometimes let non-immortals know about their true identity, sometimes keeping watch on potential candidates whom they deem worthy to know the secret and benefit from it (the Immortals call them "Particulars").

I want to clear up one thing before proceeding. Pedophilia, by definition, means that the youth in question must be PREPUBESCENT! The word "pedophile" and is associated morphisms is often now frequently misused in our culture, and it should not be for it is a very serious topic. Quentin is not a pedophile. Like most people, he is capable of finding teenagers attractive but is not exclusively drawn to them. If he was primarily attracted to prepubescent children, that would make him a pedophile, and that is a different can of worms that I am not addressing in this story. Blake, for the record, is very much a pubescent adolescent.

As for incest, if you didn't want to read it, you sure as hell oughtn't to be here. If you proceed anyway and get offended, tough shit! If you're ambivalent if incest can realistically be part of a healthy, loving relationship, that's understandable. This is fiction, but I have tried my best to be as ground in reality as possible. I hope it is convincing. It was a pleasure to write.

Blake, Quentin, and Nieve are all copyrighted and are owned by Nievelion. I have had permission to use them for this story. All other characters are mine.

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1

Blake stood naked in front of the full-length mirror stuck on the back of his closet door. He had his tail in one paw and his sizable penis in the other, comparing their girths. He had been hoping that the latter would one day match the former, and on today, his sixteenth birthday, he had finally gotten his wish as far as he could tell. He was grinning as wide as could be, even as he was quickly hardening. It never took him long to get excited when he began to handle himself. Even taking a piss was often cause enough for him to start getting hard. He absolutely loved being male, and his penis was his favorite part. He could think of no better organ on his body that brought him more joy and pleasure. Playfully, he coiled his tail once over his growing cock and enjoyed the soft caress of his Siberian fur. He had been growing like a weed almost constantly the last three years, which had been about the time his cock could surpass in girth his tail when erect. Now even that state was no longer necessary, and he was now wider than his tail.

He had first gotten the hope in his head years ago when he began to notice his father in new ways that he had not before. He could not remember a time when he had not been impressed with his father's massive body. He could remember even as a tiny kitten cuddling into his father's chest for warmth and comfort. He even had some memories of curling up around his father's tail and napping. He had always loved chasing Quentin's tail around, pouncing it, biting it, and simply playing with it. Even now, he still got the urge to hug it but could no longer bring himself to do something so childish anymore. He was almost a man -- hell, he was more of a man now than many adults he could think of at school. His height had reached six feet and two inches according to his check-up from a month ago, and he was nearly as tall as his father now. He was determined to outgrow him and be the biggest, beefiest Amur around. Not many men could match his father, so if only Blake could surpass him, he would be without match. He could just picture himself in a NYPD uniform now with its fitting trousers cupping his basket so nicely and his muscled arms bulging the shoulders and sleeves. His sheer size would command deference and respect -- and hopefully it would encourage many men to throw themselves at his feet. Grinning, he then imagined himself even out sizing Professor Urquhart at the library. Oh, how he wanted that man to reach out and cup him with one of those massive, strong paws. An academic the rare Barbary lion may have been, but his body still made Blake think of Thor.

Blake's heavy, ever-fattening cock was now totally hard and starting to drip. The young Amur figured he would probably be better off getting onto his bed with a rag. Of course, he could always use his mouth. He never tired of doing that, and he could imagine it was his father he was sucking off. Blake had long since abandoned any shame of fantasizing about his father. Fuck what society said about that taboo. They were already so wrong about so many things, so why not this? Besides, who else was going to know besides God? Even if such thoughts damned him, they had already been had, so Blake saw little point in stopping now. If he was going to Hell, he figured he might as well enjoy himself while he could. His father, the cautious, decorous nag that he was, would have objected to such a statement on Blake's part, but then his father hardly ever seemed to recognize when Blake was joking, or he simply did not have a sense of humor. In any event, Blake could see no harm in his fantasies, so he enjoyed them, as well as sort of man his father was physically.

Blake had given a lot of thought on how he might let his father know of his interest. The teenage Amur was well aware of his father's considerable appetites, no matter how discreet his father tried to be. Blake had smelled his father's rut before, had rummaged for his cum rags, and even heard him in the throes of sex whenever he came home early from his friends' places. All but one of those times it had been the new organist and music director, Mr. Saxon, from church. Blake had not initially been looking forward to having the man over to dinner, but when the enormous fox came through the door and held out his large paw, Blake had almost been glued to the spot. He had never seen a fox that big or buff in his life. He was even larger than Professor Urquhart's husband Edward, and Blake had never met another fox nearly so large as he before Mr. Saxon appeared at their doorstep. He especially remembered Mr. Saxon's strong, manly paws, imagining them them rubbing his teenage cock and fondling his balls. The young Amur had been very grateful for the loose jeans he had been wearing because he began getting hard immediately. Of course, he had turned out to be about as dull as his father, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves a lot. In fact, if Blake and not been there, he was sure they would have bounded to the bedroom. The thought of them naked in bed together was too much for Blake, and after dinner, he had asked his father if he could go out since it was Friday.

Quentin would have liked Blake to stick around, but he also realized that it was not likely to be very interesting to him. He relented, gave him twenty bucks, and sent his son merrily on his way. Secretly, he was happy to get the kitten out of the house so he could openly seduce Charles. That was exactly what they had done while Blake was away. When the young Amur returned, his father was in the shower, so Blake used the opportunity to put his nose to his father's sheets. He was masturbating through his jeans from the smells and his wild imagination. He realized he had to get to his room quickly and bolted in to finish the job. Unfortunately, he was not fast enough and began cumming in his jeans shortly after shutting his door behind him. It was hard, copious orgasm, and Blake knew he would need a shower. He undressed and wiped himself up as much as he could when he heard the bathroom door open and his father coming out. Quentin stopped outside Blake's door and knocked gently.

"Blake? Did you have a good time?" he called gently.

"Yep. I hit the library and the arcade. Thanks for the money, Dad," Blake answered, still gripping his cock and enjoying its heft and heat.

Quentin had a feeling his son might be blowing off steam, or he would have answered the door. He remembered being that age -- not that getting older made much difference. In fact, the hunger only grew. He gently tapped those thoughts down even as his heavy, flaccid cock started twitching. "Of course, son. Why don't you join me for some hot chocolate by the fire after you finish your homework? It's going to be cold tonight. I'm sure you could smell it in the air as well as I."

Homework, indeed! Blake saw through his father's efforts to act like he did not know what was likely going on behind his closed but unlocked door. When Blake first discovered how to masturbate, he was grateful to be so lucky that his father never suspected anything. He had since come to realize his own naïveté, and while he did appreciate his father respecting his privacy and not embarrassing him, he sorely wished his father would make a breach of protocol and just come on in while Blake was enjoying himself. Such thoughts had been fodder for the young Amur's fantasies for years now, each one leading to more and more unlikely scenarios. If only Blake could just get up the nerve to leave the door at least partially opened. He hated himself for not being brazen enough to do it, but even the slightest possibility of ruining things with his father would dump cold water on his hottest, most reckless ideas to get his father to join in. His father was all he had now, and that was more precious than anything else.

"Thanks, Dad. I will. I'm going to take a shower first, okay," he answered, trying to hide the sober resignation he felt at that moment.

"Take your time," Quentin answered and padding away to leave his son in peace.

After ten seconds, Blake got up off his bed where he had been wiping himself down, tossed the rag in his closet, and made for his door. He gazed down the hall, and seeing it empty, padded out quickly and naked to the bathroom down the hall. Blake was not aware of it, but his father had his bedroom mirror placed in such a way that he could perfectly see out his own bedroom door and to the bathroom.

Blake had let his lusts get the better of him again, and all these memories had pushed him over the edge. He had since let his tail drop and simply moved his paw up and down his shaft eagerly. Just before he shot, he waddled forward so he would shoot over the clothes at the top of his laundry basket. Out of habit, Blake tried not to growl very loudly even though he knew that he was alone at home. It was hard not to get into it as he watched himself paint his clothing thickly with his seamen, rope after thick rope falling across his garments and even sometimes splattering the closet wall. It was not the first time he had painted the wall thusly, and it always turned him on to see it happen. When he was done, he simply stood there, his mouth open and panting lightly, enjoying the endorphins and occasionally giving his member a squeeze or stroke, debating if he should do more.

"Blakeson, my boy, what would you like for supper tonight?" came his father's jovial, low voice from the hallway, making Blake's fur stand on end in shock. The young Amur had totally forgotten to close his door like usual, and he had had his music playing so had not even heard his father come home. He looked up just as his father came padding into his room about say more when the sight of his naked son side-on with his large, dripping cock froze him in place. This was the last thing he had expected to see. Surprisingly, after the initial shock, Quentin felt an unexpectedly strong sense of appreciation for how handsome his son was as well as how delicious his cock looked. The smell of sex was in the room, and Quentin could clearly see the mess Blake had made as he stood with his dick over the laundry basket. Recovering himself quickly and grinning and chuckling uncontrollably, he brought his paw up to cover his face. "I'll come back later, son. Sorry to have caught you unawares like that." He made a graceful but quick retreat, closing the door behind him, and headed down the hall to his own bedroom to change clothes and preserve his modesty.

Blake's heart began to slow after a minute, and he found himself as hard as a rock once more and dripping on his clothes. After all these years of planning, imagining, failing to work up the gumption, he had finally reveled himself to his father purely by accident. He had been terrified for a moment when he had been discovered. His father's reaction had surprised him, though. In a rare display of humor at something, well, crude, he had started laughing like it was something humorously embarrassing, which it admittedly was to some degree. It did not seem to Blake such a strange reaction on the whole even if it was an unexpected one from his father, but what had really surprised him had been the quick succession of emotions that flowed across his father's features. First there had been surprise, which was not unexpected, but it was quickly followed by interest, lustful hunger, and what looked like pride. If he had not known his father so well, he might not have caught it all. Then there was mound in his father's trousers. He was pretty sure he had begun to see the fat head of his dad's cock poking out and moving upward. He wondered if maybe his father actually found him attractive. If so, the possibilities were endless. He would have to find out one way or another, but for now Blake could not help but begin whacking off all over again, going hard and fast as he imagined his father joining him so they could compare and paint his laundry together. Grunting and screwing his eyes shut, Blake soon shuddered as another, harder orgasm wracked his body and more of his essence spilled out, filling his closet anew with his powerful, youthful scent.