Page 42 of Forever Ink

“Oh, fuck baby, yeah just like that.” My cock was standing to attention now. I reached down, tugging on it slowly, not wanting this to be over before it began.

One of Rhys’s slim fingers nudged against my rim along with his tongue. Fuck, my boy had skills. Rhys started fucking me with his tongue and finger, and I was in fucking heaven. This was not how I’d seen our day going, but my boy thrived on surprising me every day.

“Fuck!” I yelled a little louder than I should have when my boy’s clever finger brushed my prostate. The little minx did it again, playing my arsehole like he would his guitar, and I was in fucking heaven.

My orgasm came on hard and fast and I painted the shower wall with my cum. “Oh fuck, baby bear.”

Rhys stood up, smirking and wiping his face. “Turn around Daddy. I think I need to wash your front now.”

I turned and pulled him against me fast, kissing him with all my might. He tasted of me and body wash, his body radiating pleasure. “You are fucking spoiling me, Rhys. Let me help you.” I reached down and felt his cock, and smirked. “Did you come while Daddy rode your face, sweetheart?”

Rhys blushed scarlet “You were making some very sexy sounds. It was hot getting you off.”

“Baby, do you have any idea how sexy you are?” Rhys shrugged, giving me a soft peck on the lips before he started to soap down my front, smiling. That soon morphed into a scowl as our lovely hot shower turned into a freezing downpour.

“Fucking Mouse! I bet the little shit turned the shower on full downstairs, knowing it would take all the hot water,” I grumbled, turning the taps off and pulling Rhys out of the shower with me.

“We’d better hurry up and get dressed I suppose. I promised your dad I’d help him get tonight’s dinner ready,” Rhys said, pulling on a pair of sweatpants that swam on him. He’d said he preferred to wear mine, and to be honest I loved him in my clothes.

I tugged on my Sheffield Wednesday jumper, smirking. Mouse would have his opinions on me wearing such a sacrilegious thing in the house. He and Dad were Leeds United fans. I’d only started supporting Sheffield Wednesday to stir shit between us. I’d never been as mad about football as that pair, but what had started as a joke soon turned into a passion for me and I steadfastly kept following the Wednesday, to Mouse and my dad’s disgust.

“Come on, Daddy. I don’t want to keep your dad waiting. By now I’m sure he and Granddad have polished off most of the glögg.” Rhys rolled his eyes dramatically. “They better not drink it all before I get a chance to try it.”

I helped Rhys pick up our clothes and followed him out the bathroom door towards the loud sounds of laughter downstairs. “I’m sure Dad will save you some. Pretty sure you’re his favourite now.”

“Who’s my favourite?” Dad’s voice piped up as we walked into the kitchen. Everyone was gathered around the table, drinking cuppas.

“Rhys.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that.” Dad grinned, moving back to the stove. I pulled a chair out and sat Rhys down, grabbing the clothes he had before going through to the laundry room that ran off the side of the kitchen. I could hear Mouse laugh and Rhys saying something followed by Dad’s roar of laughter.

“Little terror used to do that to me and his mum all the time. Soon as you run the taps down here the shower upstairs turns into an ice shower.”

I dumped myself down into the chair next to Rhys and shot a scowl at my little brother. Mouse just grinned. “Cold water’s good for you,” was all he said going back to eating the sandwich he had and getting it everywhere.

“Do you always eat like a marmot coming off a hunger strike?” Callum asked, shaking his head and giving Alice a pointed look, daring her to copy Mouse.

Mouse shoved the last of the sandwich in his mouth, cheeks puffing out. “Nope,” he said around the mouthful. “Sometimes I’m worse.”

Dad cleared his throat in a clear effort to head off one of Mouse and Cal’s arguments. “We’ve got a couple of hours to kill before dinner and I realised what we don’t have is the lights strung up outside, or the decorations up on the barn.” Mouse and I groaned in unison. We knew who was going to be stumbling about the dusty hay loft to get the lights and star hung up out the front of the old barn.

Dad didn’t seem to care about our groans. He just grinned and pointed to a stack of boxes by the mudroom door. “The lights for the house are there. The two of you are going to have to go through and check them all.”

“You could have asked us to do that before we got showered and cleaned up.” Mouse huffed, sliding back his chair.

“Aye, I could have, but where would the fun in that be?” Dad asked with a perfectly straight face.

* * *

“I think that’s the last of them,” I grunted, hanging the LED star over the top of the barn door. I had to admit that the farm courtyard looked brilliant lit up with the Christmas lights. A pang of melancholy swept over me as I remembered years past, Mum yelling instructions while Dad stood on this selfsame ladder with a patient but baffled expression while Mum explained why they needed to have all the damn lights up.

Her argument for it had been that Santa needed a safe landing strip, a story she’d started when I was still tiny—well, younger. I don’t think I’d ever been exactly small. I could remember Dad arguing that we were grown lads and didn’t believe in the man in red, and Mum had given a mock-horrified look and told Dad it didn’t matter, because she still believed.

“You thinking about Mum?” Mouse asked softly from his spot at the foot of the ladder. With his thick woolly cap and Dads’ old jacket on he looked years younger—softer I suppose, not the hard-bitten man he’d become.

“Yeah, can’t help it. This was her thing, you know?” I hung the last rope of lights up then made my way down the ladder.

“You too?”

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