This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in it are 18+ of age.
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The sun was dipping low, painting the badlands in hues of orange and pink, as Joseph pulled the car off the highway onto a dusty, deserted stretch of road. The air was still warm, but a faint evening breeze slipped through the open windows, ruffling my hair. My shorts were still a mess from our earlier escapade behind the hill, but I’d managed to wipe off the worst of it with a spare rag from the glove compartment. Joseph, on the other hand, looked unfairly composed, his leather jacket slung over the back of his seat, white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, and that damn smirk still lingering like he knew something I didn’t.
“Alright, John,” he said, killing the engine and turning to me with a glint in his eye. “Time to make you a man.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Pretty sure you’ve already taken care of that, Joseph,” I emphasized his name, still getting used to the way it felt on my tongue. Less like a title, more like a lover’s name. It was weird, but I liked it.
He chuckled, deep and warm, and reached over to ruffle my hair. “Not that kind of man, smartass. I’m talking about driving. You’re nineteen, and you still don’t know how to handle a stick? Embarrassing.”
“Hey!” I swatted his hand away, feigning offense. “I’ve been busy, okay? Gap year, soul-searching, and… other stuff.” I shot him a pointed look, and his smirk widened.
“Yeah, yeah, blame me for keeping you distracted.” He opened his door and stepped out, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, revealing a sliver of hairy stomach that made my mouth go dry.
“Come on, get your ass in the driver’s seat.”
I hesitated, suddenly aware of how little I knew about driving. Sure, I’d played racing games, but real cars? That was a whole different beast.
“You sure about this? What if I crash your baby?”
Joseph patted the hood of the car like it was an old friend. “She’s tougher than she looks. Besides, I’ll be right here. You trust me, don’t you?”
I met his eyes, dark and steady, and felt that familiar warmth bloom in my chest.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I do.”
“Good. Now move it.”
I climbed out, my sneakers crunching on the gravel, and slid into the driver’s seat. The leather was warm against my thighs, and the steering wheel felt foreign under my hands. Joseph settled into the passenger seat, his presence filling the car with that comforting, overwhelming energy of his. He leaned back, one arm draped over the seat, looking entirely too relaxed for someone about to let a rookie drive his car.
“Okay,” he said, pointing at the pedals. “Clutch on the left, brake in the middle, gas on the right. This is a manual, so you gotta feel the gears. Don’t just jam it in like you’re trying to win a fight.”
I laughed, nerves bubbling up. “You’re making this sound like something else entirely.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Focus, John. Eyes on the road, not on me.”
“Hard order,” I muttered, and he laughed, the sound rich and easy.
“Flattery won’t save you if you hurt her. Key in, turn it.”
I did as he said, the engine rumbling to life. My heart jumped, and I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Okay, now what?”
“Clutch down, shift into first. Ease off the clutch while you give it some gas. Slow and smooth, like-” He paused, grinning. “Like you’re trying to impress me in bed.”
“Joseph!” I groaned, my face heating up, but I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re the worst teacher.”
"Go on, try it.”
I took a deep breath, pressed the clutch, and fumbled with the gear stick until it clicked into first. My foot hovered over the gas, and I started easing off the clutch. The car lurched forward, then sputtered and died. I cursed under my breath, slumping back in the seat.
“See? Told you I’d screw it up.”
Joseph didn’t laugh, just reached over and squeezed my shoulder.
“You’re fine. Everybody stalls the first time. Try again, but don’t rush it. Feel the car, let it tell you when it’s ready.”
His voice was calm, patient, and it steadied me. I nodded, restarting the engine and trying again. This time, I was slower, more deliberate. The car rolled forward, jerky at first, but moving. My eyes widened, a grin splitting my face.
“Holy shit, I’m doing it!”
“There you go!” Joseph clapped a hand on my thigh, his touch warm and grounding. “Now, keep it steady. Don’t look at the pedals, look at the road.”
I managed to drive a few hundred yards, the car wobbling but staying on the road. My hands were sweaty, my heart racing, but I felt alive, like I was conquering something bigger than just a car. Joseph kept talking me through it and telling me when to shift, how to brake smoothly, how to listen to the engine. He was a good teacher, firm but encouraging, and I could feel his pride radiating off him every time I got something right. After a while, he pointed to a flat stretch ahead.
“Alright, pull over here. You’re a natural, but let’s try something fun.”
I eased the car to a stop, my hands shaking with adrenaline. “Fun? Like what?”
He patted his lap, his grin downright mischievous. “Hop on. You drive, I’ll help.”
My jaw dropped. “You want me to sit in your lap? While driving? Are you insane?”
“Maybe a little.” He winked, scooting back to make room. “Come on, it’s a straight road, no one’s around. Live a little, John.”
I should’ve said no. It was reckless, dangerous, and probably illegal. But the way he looked at me, all confidence and challenge, made my resolve crumble. I climbed over the gearshift, awkward and giggling, and settled onto his lap. His arms came around me, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other on my hip. His breath was warm against my neck, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my back.
“Comfortable?” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
“Not even a little,” I lied, my voice hitching as his hand tightened on my hip. “Don’t distract me, or we’re both dead.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” But his tone said otherwise.
I started the car again, my hands on the wheel, his guiding mine. The car rolled forward, smoother this time, and I laughed, the thrill of it all - driving, Joseph’s warmth, the sheer absurdity - making my head spin. His hands stayed steady, but every now and then, his fingers would brush my thigh or squeeze my side, sending sparks through me. I could feel him hardening beneath me, and it took everything not to grind back against him.
“Eyes on the road, baby,” he teased, his voice low and rough.
“You’re not helping,” I shot back, but I was grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
We drove like that for maybe a mile, the car weaving slightly as I tried to focus through the haze of his touch and scent. Finally, he guided me to pull over, his hands firm but gentle. I turned off the engine, my body buzzing with adrenaline and something else entirely. I turned my head, and our lips met in a quick, hungry kiss, all teeth and heat.
“Not bad for your first time,” he said, pulling back just enough to smirk at me.
“Driving or kissing?” I quipped, and he laughed, pulling me closer.
“Both. Now get off me before I forget we’ve got a reservation to make.”
I climbed back to the passenger seat, my heart still pounding, and stole a glance at him. His hair was mussed, his eyes bright with that mix of pride and desire that made me weak. This trip was already more than I’d imagined, and we hadn’t even gotten to the restaurant yet.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The neon sign of the restaurant glowed like a beacon in the twilight, its cursive letters casting a warm red hue over the parking lot. Joseph pulled the car into a spot near the entrance, the engine’s rumble fading into the soft hum of evening crickets. I adjusted my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from our earlier activities, and caught my reflection in the side mirror. My hair was a mess, cheeks still flushed from the driving lesson and that ridiculous lap-sitting stunt, but my eyes were bright, alive. I looked happy. Really happy.
Joseph stepped out, tossing his leather jacket into the backseat and rolling up the sleeves of his white t-shirt. The way it hugged his biceps and chest should’ve been illegal, and I had to bite my lip to keep from staring too long. He caught me anyway, flashing that smug grin that made my stomach flip.
“Ready to wine and dine, baby?”
I climbed out, brushing gravel off my khaki shorts. “Only if you promise not to embarrass me in there,” I savored the way the words felt. Intimate, equal, like we were just two guys in love, not… well, you know.
He laughed, deep and rich, and slung an arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the entrance.
“No promises, baby. I’m a wild card.”
The restaurant was fancier than anything I’d ever been to, all dim lighting, polished wood, and waiters in crisp black vests gliding between tables like they were on a mission from God. The air smelled of garlic, fresh bread, and something expensive I couldn’t place. Maybe truffles? A hostess with a tight bun and a tighter smile greeted us, her eyes flicking over Joseph’s casual t-shirt and my slightly rumpled shirt. For a second, I thought she’d turn us away, but Joseph gave her that easy, disarming grin of his, and she melted like butter.
“Reservation for Sutton,” he said, his voice smooth as whiskey. “Table for two.”
She checked her tablet, nodded, and led us through the dining room. I felt every pair of eyes on us, or maybe I was just paranoid. Joseph’s arm stayed around me, his thumb brushing my shoulder, and I leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the nerves. We were just a couple, I reminded myself. Just two guys, out on a date. No one here knew our secret, and for once, I didn’t care if they did.
The hostess seated us at a corner table, tucked away near a window with a view of a small courtyard strung with fairy lights. It was perfect. Private but not isolated, romantic without trying too hard. Joseph pulled out my chair with an exaggerated flourish, bowing like some old-timey gentleman. I snorted, rolling my eyes, but slid into the seat, my heart doing a little somersault.
“Such a charmer,” I teased as he sat across from me, his knees brushing mine under the table.
“Only for you,” he shot back, winking.
His foot nudged mine, and I kicked him lightly, both of us dissolving into quiet giggles like kids sneaking candy in class.
The waiter appeared, a wiry guy with a weird mustache. He handed us menus and rattled off specials in a bored monotone, but I barely heard him. Joseph was looking at me, his eyes soft and warm, like I was the only person in the room. I felt my face heat up and hid behind the menu, pretending to study it.
“What’s good here?” I asked, peeking over the top.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Anything’s good when you’re with me.”
“Oh my God, you’re corny,” I groaned, but I was grinning so hard my cheeks ached. “How do you say shit like that with a straight face?”
“Practice,” he said, smirking. “Now pick something, or I’m ordering you the octopus.”
I gagged dramatically, and he laughed, the sound drawing a few glances from nearby tables. I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them see how happy we were, how easy it felt to be together like this, no secrets, no shame. Just us.
We ended up ordering pasta with some fancy sauce for me, a steak for him, and a bottle of red wine because Joseph insisted we “live a little”, again. When the waiter poured it, Joseph raised his glass, his eyes locking on mine.
“To us,” he said, his voice low and serious.
I clinked my glass against his, my throat tight.
“To us,” I echoed, and we drank, the wine warm and bold on my tongue.
It hit me then, sitting there in this fancy-ass restaurant with fairy lights twinkling outside, that this was our first real date. Not a late-night drive or a sneaky fuck in my room, but a proper, out-in-the-world date. My chest swelled, and I reached for his hand across the table, lacing our fingers together.
“You’re staring,” he said, but he didn’t pull away.
“Can’t help it,” I admitted, squeezing his hand. “You look… good. Like, really good.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Careful, John. Keep talking like that, and we won’t make it to dessert.”
I choked on my wine, sputtering as he laughed, loud and unapologetic. A woman at the next table shot us a look, but I just grinned at her, too giddy to care. This was what I’d wanted. Us, out in the open, laughing and touching and being us without fear. It felt like freedom.
The food arrived, and we dug in, stealing bites from each other’s plates and arguing over whose dish was better. Joseph kept making terrible puns like “This steak is a cut above the rest, huh?” and I groaned but laughed anyway, kicking him under the table. At one point, he reached over to wipe a bit of sauce from my chin, his fingers lingering on my face, and I swear my heart stopped. I grabbed his wrist, holding his hand there, and we just looked at each other, the noise of the restaurant fading away.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I whispered, only half-joking.
“Good,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something that made my pulse race. “Means I’m doing it right.”
We stayed like that for hours, talking and laughing, our hands brushing every chance we got. He told me stories about his college days, dumb pranks he pulled with his buddies, and I told him about the time I tried to “borrow” a library book and set off every alarm in the building. We were loud, probably annoying the hell out of everyone around us, but it didn’t matter.
When the bill came, Joseph snatched it before I could look, waving off my protests. “My treat,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “You can pay me back later.”
“Oh, I plan to,” I said, lowering my voice, and his eyes flashed with heat that promised trouble.
We left the restaurant hand in hand, my head buzzing from wine and happiness. The night air was cool, the stars bright above us, and I pulled him to a stop outside the car, wrapping my arms around his neck. “That was perfect,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Joseph.”
He kissed me, slow and deep, right there in the parking lot where anyone could see. “Anything for you, my love,” he said against my lips, and I believed him.
The motel’s vacancy sign flickered as we pulled into the lot, its pale, yellow glow casting shadows across Joseph’s face. The place was straight out of a postcard. Low-slung, retro, with a vibe that screamed road trip dreams. Our room was on the second floor, and by the time we climbed the creaky stairs, my legs were buzzing with anticipation. The restaurant had left me high on wine and love, and Joseph’s hand brushing mine as we walked didn’t help. Every touch felt like a promise, and I was ready to cash in.
Inside, the room was small but cozy: a queen bed with a faded floral comforter, a chipped wooden dresser, and a TV that probably hadn’t worked since the ’90s. The air smelled faintly of bleach and old carpet, but it was ours for the night, and that made it perfect. Joseph dropped our bag by the door and kicked off his boots, his t-shirt damp with sweat from the drive. I tossed my sneakers aside and flopped onto the bed, the springs squeaking under me.
“Classy joint,” I said, propping myself on my elbows and grinning at him. “You sure know how to treat a guy.”
He smirked, peeling off his t-shirt and tossing it onto the dresser. His chest was broad, hairy, and glistening slightly, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
“Only the best for my boyfriend,” he said, his voice low and teasing. He crossed the room in two strides and climbed onto the bed, caging me in with his arms. “You complaining?”
“Never,” I murmured, reaching up to trace his jaw, rough with stubble.
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, we just looked at each other, the weight of the day settling between us. Dinner had been a dream. Us, laughing, touching, and being together without hiding. But here, in this private little world, it was different. Raw. Real.
He leaned down, kissing me slowly and deeply, like he was savoring every second. I melted into it, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the warmth of his skin. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"You have no idea what you do to me, John,” he said, his voice rough with something that made my heart ache.
“Then show me,” I whispered, and that was all it took.
We settled into the bed like we’ve done a million times, him sitting against the headboard, me straddling his lap, our movements easy and familiar. I tugged off my shirt, tossing it somewhere, and his hands were on me instantly, roaming my chest, my sides, like he couldn’t get enough. We talked as we touched, our voices soft, the conversation flowing like it always did after the high of a good day.
“You were so loud at the restaurant,” I teased, nipping at his earlobe. “Thought that lady was gonna call the manager on us.”
He chuckled, his hands settling on my hips. “She was just jealous. Not her fault she’s never had a date as hot as you.”
“Flatterer,” I said, but I was grinning, my fingers carding through his hair. “You think we pulled it off? The whole couple thing?”
His expression softened, and he cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We didn’t pull anything off, baby. That was us. Just… us.”
I kissed him again, harder this time, and the conversation faded as our bodies took over. We stripped each other slowly, savoring the reveal. How his jeans hit the floor, my shorts following, until it was just skin on skin. The room was warm, the air thick with the scent of man musk, and every touch felt electric. His hands were everywhere, rough and gentle all at once, and I arched into him, needy and unashamed.
“God, you’re perfect,” he growled, flipping me onto my back and pinning my wrists above my head.
His weight pressed me into the mattress, and I moaned, already half-gone. This wasn’t like our quick, desperate fucks at home. This was deliberate, hungry, like we had all the time in the world to ruin each other.
He kissed his way down my chest, his beard scraping my skin, leaving a trail of fire. When his mouth closed around my dick, I gasped, my hips bucking. He held me down, his grip firm, and worked me with a skill that made my head spin. I was babbling. His name, curses, pleas. My hands fisted the sheets as he pushed me to the edge and kept me there, teasing, relentless. How the hell was he this good at this?
“Joseph, please,” I whined, my voice breaking, and he looked up, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Patience, baby,” he said, but his own voice was strained, his control fraying.
He crawled back up, kissing me deep, and I tasted myself on his tongue, the intimacy of it sending me spiraling. He grabbed the lube from our bag, because of course he’d packed it, the perv, and slicked his fingers, his touch gentle but urgent as he prepped me.
When he finally pushed inside, it was like the world narrowed to just us. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, our breaths mingling as he moved, slow at first, then faster, harder. I was in heaven, feeling the cock that made me, the one I came from, dig around inside me, reclaiming what's his. The bed creaked, the headboard thumping against the wall, and I didn’t care who heard. He was mine, and I was his, and every thrust felt like a claim, a vow. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and he groaned, his face buried in my neck.
“Fuck, John,” he rasped, his rhythm faltering. “I won’t be able to last long.”
“Good,” I gasped, and then I was cumming, my body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He followed seconds later, his grip tightening as he spilled inside me, his moans muffled against my skin. I felt him, warm and virile, spread through my insides. We collapsed together, a sweaty, trembling mess, the room spinning as we caught our breath.
For a moment, we just lay there, his weight anchoring me, our heartbeats slowing. But as the high faded, something shifted. The intensity of it all hit me like a freight train, and a wave of emotions I couldn’t name surged up, choking me. I felt raw, exposed, like I’d given too much and needed something back, something familiar.
I turned my head, my lips brushing his ear. “Daddy,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “I… I want my Daddy back. Just for tonight.”
Joseph stilled, his breath catching. He pulled back slightly, searching my face, and I saw the shift in his eyes. It was soft, protective, the father I’d always needed.
“Oh, baby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He rolled off me, pulling me into his arms, my head tucked against his chest. “I’m right here, Son. Your Daddy’s got you.”
I clung to him, tears pricking my eyes as I buried my face in his warmth. It wasn’t regret or shame. It was love, overwhelming and complicated. I needed him as my lover, but right now, I needed him as my Dad, the one who’d carry me through anything. They were both roles I needed him to fulfill, just like he needed me to be his Son and love as well. His hand stroked my back, slow and soothing, and he murmured soft words, calling me “baby” and “sweetheart” in that deep, steady voice that felt like home.
“I love you,” I mumbled, my voice muffled against his skin. “Both ways. Always.”
“I know,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “I love you too, John. Always will, no matter what we are.”
We stayed like that, tangled together, the motel room quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. The world outside didn’t matter. Not the taboo, not the future, not the distance that might come. For tonight, we were everything to each other. And as I drifted off in his arms, I knew we’d find a way to make it work, no matter what.
END
Author' Note: So comes the end of Dad and Son Bonding, and with it, the ending of John and Joseph' tale. It was a passionate, first project of mine, so I hope you forgive the rough handling. The finale is meant to be a send off, with you, the readers, imagining their best life after this.
I hope to hear from you regarding what you'd like to see next.
Thanks for reading!
Luke
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
