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Gene tossed. Gene turned. Gene flipped his pillow over once, twice, chasing the cold side of the satin cover. Gene counted sheep in his head until he reached fifty, a hundred, two hundred. Gene counted back from ten like the doctors asked him to do before surgery.
It was too hot to sleep. It was too hot to do anything, really. Stuck in the middle of a heatwave, he had every fan in this house dragged up into his room, the window shut to prevent any more heat from wafting in, and the blinds closed for the morning sun to reflect off of; yet it was still far too warm in here.
Sleep wouldn’t come. 11:09 pm, 12:17 am, 1:53 am, sleep wouldn’t come. 3:02 am, sleep wouldn’t come. 3:30 am, and he decided he needed to get up and do something besides try to sleep, or he’d go mental.
The boy slowly crawled out of bed, careful not to make too much noise, and padded down thick carpeted stairs in bare feet. Light omitted from down the hall, out of the doorway he recognized as the kitchen. Curious- no one should be up at this point. It was three in the bloody morning, for God’s sake.
“Forgot to turn off the light,” Gene muttered to himself before stepping into the room.
He was halfway through his next step when he noticed him. His dad, Liam, a decrepit version of himself, a half-empty bottle of fluorescent blue vodka in his hand and a fully empty one sat near his shoulder on the counter behind him. A joint was aptly placed between two nicotine-stained fingers, ashes built up on the paper that he had forgotten to tap off.
That was the second thing he noticed— the godawful smell of all this weed. It was a miracle the smell hadn’t found a way to snake up the stairs and travel into his bedroom; now, the scent stuck to his already damp skin, and Gene rolled his eyes hard, knowing he’d have to wash extra hard in the shower if he wanted to go anywhere in the morning.
He shot hot, annoyed eyes at his dad, who glared back as he took a drag of the joint, practically blowing the smoke in his face as Gene cautiously walked over to the refrigerator.
“You want a drag?” Liam stuck his hand out to Gene, where the handmade joint was withering away, barely enough left to suck on.
“Er, I’m fine,” Gene replied shortly, giving Liam another glare of annoyance as he pulled a block of cheese from the fridge.
Liam shrugged. “Suit yourself, kid,” he said, dropping the cigarette on the ground, smashing out the ashes with his foot, (“why the hell is Da wearing boots in our own house” is the reasonable thought Gene had, but the sleep deprivation in his mind pushed the thought away, in favour of “food, eat, bed”), and taking another swig off his bottle.
“You gon’ sleep soon?” Gene asked as he got a cutting board from the bottom drawer, “No offence, Da, but you look like shit.”
Liam hummed, waving his hand as if to dismiss him, and Gene sighed. There was no getting through to his dad when he was like this— something had upset him, and he would drink all night and sleep all day. He just had to hope he would have enough sense to not burn the house down.
Gene pulled a knife from the block and ran his free hand through his hair as he sliced into the block of cheese. Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, c—
Gene froze as he felt two arms snake around his waist, hands meeting under his belly button, warm body pressed against his back. He smelled so strongly of vodka and weed that the whole thing overtook Gene’s senses and left him with a slow-fading headache. His dad was wrapped around him, and worse, he had his lips near his left ear, breathing soft and ragged against his lobe.
“Get off me,” Gene grumbled, trying to shrug him off, but Liam just let out a childlike whine in protest, pressing his nose to the soft, scraggly skin under Gene’s ear.
“God, you smell good, Gene,” Liam told him, words thick with alcohol. “Smell like Noely used to. Had this bloody Versace something or other— no, it was… ah… doesn’t matter, but he saved for months ‘n bought it ‘n when he wore it— couldn’t pay me to get off him, Christ, he used to whine and whine that I wouldn’t leave him alone, but—“
“Shut your mouth, Da,” Gene grumbled. He was rough, but that’s how it always was with them. “Shut up” was as common as “please” or “thank you”. “You’re off your rocker, mate. Go to bed. ‘N get off me, or—“
Liam, seemingly hearing none of this, pressed a wet kiss against his neck, making Gene freeze once again, halfway through the block. “Used to kiss Noely like this, when Ma ‘n Paul went to bed… kissed him, kissed him, smelled him all nice, begged him to put more on…”
“What the fuck, Da?” Gene sputtered, placing his knife down on the cutting board. turning around to face Liam. His face was inches from his, and he couldn’t help but back his face away. “You need— need to go to bed. You’re…” he was losing words now as Liam’s face inched, crawled towards his, sly, drunken smile plastered on his face.
“Mmm, come on, Gene,” Liam muttered, hands falling over the younger’s waist, grabbing gently at his hips- Gene didn’t try to move away. “You look so wound. Been up all night, love?” He pushed a piece of hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear, leaning in and planting a kiss against his warm cheek. “D’you need some help with that..?” His eyes trailed down.
Gene looked down as well, and with a feeling in his stomach he could only describe as horror, he realized then he was hard. It was especially noticeable in his soft plaid pyjama pants, and he shifted the weight on the balls of his feet, uncomfortable and unknowing.
He didn’t have to know. Liam, without being asked, dropped to his knees, grabbing onto the soft chub on Gene’s thighs. He pushed his thumbs under the waistband of his pyjamas and tugged down, down, down, pressing a cheek against his hard one once it was freed from his pyjamas.
“Well?” Liam looked up at Gene. His son, red in the face and itching to buck up against his dad's lips. “You gon’ let me suck you off, G?”
Gene bit his bottom lip, raw already from the constant chewing he did at it. He swore he tasted blood as he thought.
No, no, no. This can’t happen. You can’t let your own dad, high out of his mind, suck you off. Can’t let Da have your cock in his mouth. Can’t, can’t, not even maybe.
But maybe. Maybe.
Before Gene could stop himself, he whispered, “Gowan, then.”
It was all it took for Liam to yank down the rest of his clothes and take his leaking cock in his shaking hands, squeezing gently at the base as tentatively licked at his tip, smiling up at Gene with wide, bloodshot eyes.
“Such a freak, Gene,” Liam muttered as he slowly jerked him, watching the way he pressed himself hard against the counter to stop his hips from moving. “Like it when Da gets his lips on you, yeah? Like it when I touch you already? Christ, it’s been three seconds, and you’re already—“ Liam pulled his hand from his cock and spread his fingers; a web of precum connected every digit. “Look at you, love. Fuckin’ desperate. Lennon never touched you?”
“No, he— why would he touch me?” Gene breathed, concealing a moan under sealed lips, moving his hand to cover his mouth, his other hand gripping the counter so hard his knuckles were white. “S’never— never done anything.”
“Not like me and Noel, are you?” Liam laughed, fitting his thumb over his slit, which left Gene faltering, legs wobbling under him. “For the better, ey? Noely always hoped you two would be close, but never like him & I.”
Gene was just starting to piece two and two together when Liam latched wet lips over the head of his cock, scattering any cohesive thoughts into the corners of his brain and had him tilting his head back and moaning against his sweaty palm. He tried so, so hard to not think about who was sucking him, just how good it felt.
He snaked his tongue around his cock as he lapped and sucked and licked and everything that felt good, good, good, everything that made Gene groan and whine. At least he was silent, no more quips or dirty comments coming from his mouth considering the hefty amount of cock that lay there now.
The younger boy slowly took the hand around his mouth and placed it on Liam’s head, interweaving shaking fingers with the dark brown and grey strands, gripping at his hair. He was nervous and didn’t know how far he could go with this; he gently stroked his thumb over his scalp and muttered, “Feels good, Da. Really bloody good.”
Liam whimpered around his cock in response, a deeper tone compared to Gene, and slowly bobbed further on his length, wetting more and more of the sensitive skin with his lips, grabbing Gene’s eyes as he did. Gene watched his dad swallow up his cock; watched him as his eyes moved to the back of his head, watched him as he felt something tight and resisting and realized Liam had his tip in his throat.
“God, Da—“ Gene couldn’t help himself as his hips finally snapped into his mouth, and Liam swallowed the rest of his length, long eyelashes fluttering over shut eyes as he struggled to take it all. Still, Gene didn’t relent, shoving his hips against and against his face, too lost in the feeling to care.
Liam took it a few more times before he popped his mouth off, a thick trail of spit and precum connecting his lips back to him. Liam smiled at him, dirty, continuing to jerk him, pulling his foreskin back and blowing lightly on the sensitive bundle of nerves under. “You love it, Gene?”
Gene nodded slowly. It wasn’t easy to admit he liked the feelings of his dad sucking him off.
Liam couldn’t help but laugh before he placed his cock on his tongue again. He sucked at him like he was made of gold, lewd wet noises coming from deep inside his throat, grabbing onto his base, his thighs, anything he could get ahold of. He was determined to make his kid cum, swallow it down his throat, open his mouth to show like he used to do for Noel—
“Oi, dad, ‘r you still up?”
Lennon, from down the hall. Liam froze for hardly a second before he scrambled onto his feet.
Silently, Gene yanked his pyjamas up, stuffing his leaking cock into them, turning around to face his half-made snack again— God, it seemed like hours ago he had started making food. He didn’t check to see what his dad was doing, but he could hear the paper towel roll undoing itself, a sheet torn before being crumbled and thrown into the bin.
“There’s a lad from America on the phone. Wants to talk about some festivals. I can tell him you’re asleep—“ Lennon stepped into the kitchen and stopped for a second, looking at Gene curiously, and then at his dad, who was leaning on the counter the same way he had been when his little brother found him.
“Morning, Gene,” Lennon said to his back, and Gene, too hard to turn around and face him, muttered a “morning” back.
Lennon wondered if he should say anything else to Gene, but left it. “So, er, d’you want to talk to him or no? You… haven’t slept, have you?”
“Tell ‘im to fuck off,” Liam replied gruffly, shaking his head. “An’ no, haven’t slept. Goin’ soon. Why are you up?”
“Phone ringing woke me,” Lennon titled his head inquisitively, “you didn’t hear it?”
Gene’s cheeks burned. Of course, his dad hadn’t heard it (or himself, for that matter)— he was too busy sucking cock to listen for the phone.
Liam shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, wrinkled noticeably at his knees.
“Right, well, I’ll let him know to call back another time. Get some sleep, Dad. Look like you need it.” Lennon turned on his heel and padded out of the room.
Gene shut his knife down when Lennon was gone. He slowly turned to Liam, who was staring straight at him, or more accurately straight at his arse and then his hard-on still wrapped in his pyjamas.
Without a word, Gene took a few steps to get to Liam and dropped to his knees, breathlessly and needily kissing at the denim of his jeans and then his thighs once he had shrugged them off his hips and down to his ankles. He straddled Liam’s boot, grinding down on it already as he pressed open-mouth kisses against his boxers.
“Gonna suck me off, kid?” Liam groaned, holding his head in his hand, tugging on his hair to have him tilt his head and look at him. His eyes were mean but desperate; he ground his hips against Gene’s chin. “Open your mouth.”
When he complied, Liam spat. And when Liam spat, Gene swallowed.
Gene was practically sucking at his cock through his boxers while he dug his fingers under his waistband. He had pushed down any thoughts of this being wrong; any thoughts that he shouldn’t be doing something like this; and replaced them with more, more, more. Liam couldn’t help but laugh, letting his fingers run through his thick chestnut strands again. “You done this before, Gene?”
Gene hesitated. After a second, he shook his head but continued to pull down his boxers, until his cock sprang free, startling the younger briefly.
“D’you need help with it, love?” Liam asked, and when Gene nodded, he clicked his tongue, petting his head softly.
“Right, then. You saw how I did it. Give the tip a lick.”
Gene complied, pink tongue darting out to start licking, wetting his already slick tip, looking up at him for approval. Liam groaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Thas’ it,” he muttered, “feels good. Keep doing that, further down, c’mon love.”
“I love you, Da,” Gene told him as he started licking down, down, down, tongue meeting rough pubic hair before he let it back up. His nose brushed against Liam’s cock as he peppered kisses up, down the shaft.
Liam had his head thrown back, fingers scrambling over his scalp. Gene tapped twice on his thigh to get his attention. “Da,” he called gently.
Liam looked down at him, tilting his head. “Yeah?”
“Fuck my throat, would you?”
“God, you really are something, Gene.”
Liam couldn’t help but grin as he let his tip prod against Gene’s waiting lips, precum as lipgloss. “You sure you won’t be sick?”
“Please, Da, just—“
And Liam was deep inside his throat, tip hitting the back as he grabbed his head with two hands and fucked him.
Gene gagged but took it, moaning around the thick length, sending rumbling vibrations up into his stomach. “Look at you, Gene,” Liam praised, “so fucking beautiful like this. Just like Noel was. Never sucked me much but… when he did, looked just like you, those long lashes of yours…”
He thrusted deep inside as if he was fucking him normally, not a care in the world if he could breathe or function or anything of the sort. “Bein’ such a good lad for me, yeah? Such a good fuckin’ boy,” Liam told him, and Gene said nothing in response, brown eyes welling with tears.
Already, Liam was close, fire and knot forming in his stomach as Gene’s throat constricted around him. His nails scratched at Gene’s head, mumbling incoherent praises and moans, slipping in a “gonna cum in your mouth, yeah? Tap me thigh if you don’t…”
Gene didn’t tap on his thigh, didn’t make any sign he didn’t want that. Liam took it as a please. He continued his movements against his lips, the younger’s nose continually buried in the dark patch of hair above his cock as he chased the feeling. “You’re incredible,” Liam murmured, words carried away by Gene’s soft moans coming up his throat and by Liam’s own strewn-together moans, “fucking incredible, love.”
He thrust once, twice, the fire in his stomach overflowing as he buried himself deep in his throat and came, moaning louder than he ever should if his other son’s home, not there enough to even cover his mouth. He pulled on Gene’s hair hard as thick white stripes of cum poured down his throat, and he tried his best to pull out a bit to give him some breathing room, but this burning feeling was too addicting to let go of.
“Fuck,” He groaned as he pulled out of Gene’s mouth, the boy gasping for air, leaning his forehead against his dad’s thigh. His whole body shuddered as he shifted.
Liam had pushed it completely out of his mind, but it was then he remembered- Gene was straddling his boot. Gene was grinding against his boot. And Gene now had an obvious wet patch dotting his pyjamas.
“Cum in your pants, ey?” Liam shook his head, pulling his son to his feet, staring deep into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes with tears still forming in them, pink swollen lips with precum leaking from the corner, pale chin with spit dribbled down it. “Such a fucking whore, G. Look at me.”
Gene complied, staring right into his eyes. “Did I do good?” He whispered.
“Fuck me, did you,” Liam tapped his cheek softly, not quite a slap, and leaned in, licking the droplet of cum from the corner of his lip, tasting himself. His lips were inches from his, and he couldn’t help himself but kiss him, cleaning his mouth dry with his tongue until both of them were panting.
Liam sighed and clicked his tongue again. What now? What do you say to your son whose mouth you just came in? What do you do?
He defaulted to what he did anyway; grabbed his bottle of vodka, which had been sitting and waiting on the counter the whole time, and walked out the kitchen door, calling an “I’ll see you later, kid,” over his shoulder.
Gene turned back to his little snack and continued to slice into the block of cheese, as he had done before.
Upstairs, Lennon’s cock was pulsing in his hand as he thought about the way his brother groaned whilst his dad sucked him off.
Maybe they weren’t as different from Noel and himself as Liam thought.