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Jack and Brandon, Father and Son

by Latin Writter

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 25 Mar 2018

At first, the pain had been uncomfortable, but now it was becoming less and less bearable. I tried to move my hips from side to side, but that blasted hand always found its target.

Stop! I demanded, trying once more to kick my legs, however, instead of getting my stepfather to relent on his assault, the swats seemed to become harsher and more rapid. Jack, stop it! NOW! I demanded of the man, trying to use all my fifteen year old bravado.

However, the man neither stopped nor spoke, fueling my anger and ire towards him. The man I had once called Daddy and Dad. The man that had raised me since I was six. When I was too young and stupid to know better and to think this man had once loved me.

Now I knew better. I knew this man only put up with me because of Mom. I’ll tell on you, you bastard!

That final threat made Jack stop, making me release a sigh I did not know I was holding. Once more, I tried to get up from the man’s lap, but instead of being freed, Jack moved me around like if I was nothing but a rag doll. How many times had I hated Mom’s genes that made me small and seem fragile?

Let go! I demanded once more.

Your behavior these past months has been atrocious, Brandon. Jack scolded, You think you can do whatever you please because Marie is not here? He stated, landing three harsh swats on my, until now, untouched thighs. Well, think better, little boy!

Again, my stepfather’s hand landed on my under curve and thighs, making my fists ball tightly. My eyes stung with the unshed tears, my breath ragged as I tried to move my locked legs.

Suddenly, the spanking stopped once more. It was the harshest spanking up till now that Jack had ever given me, and I was sure that it was over. I might not be your father, as you repeatedly remind me, the man spoke, making my heart clench painfully. I still did not understand clearly why I had said so several months ago, but I did know that I was still angry from before for a reason I had somehow forgotten.

It had been that time that I had come in late. I had come home two hours after curfew, making Mom yell at me for what seemed an eternity, but when Jack had stated I was grounded, I had lost it. You’re not my father, your no one! I had told the man, I wish my real dad was alive and YOU were dead! No one would have missed you!
Jack’s face had gone pale, he had said nothing and had simply gone up to his study. Mom had looked aghast, but pained and had said nothing as well. Ever since, Jack had barely spoken to me...before he had at least spoken to me like one would a stranger. Now, though, now he ignored me altogether...that was until he had dragged me over his knee for a spanking.

But that does NOT! A particular hard swat fell atop my left upper thigh, making me yelp for the first time, MEAN! Another hard swat on my right thigh, I will let you put your life in DANGER! And then, it happened, a barrage of swats fell all over my sensitive sit spot and upper thighs.

Despite the fact that I was trying to hold it, I was starting to lose control of my body and mouth. Yelps and soft cries and moans were escaping my mouth. I could only hope this would end soon and that my once father figure would return to ignore my existence. That the man I had once admired and loved would go back to wishing I did not exist.

And when I thought things could not get worst for my bare and currently vulnerable behind, the worst yet happened. Somehow, Jack moved me again, making my legs part. I then could feel air caressing my most secret places of all, making my face blush profusely.

I was confused as to what would happen. Would Jack, the bastard, rape me as well? Fear engulfed me as I felt my stepfather place his hand upon untouched skin, but then the hand disappeared and pain exploded once more. Making my eyes loose battle with the yet unshed tears, my body shaking in anger and shame.


The happiest day of my life had not been my wedding, like many men claimed. The happiest day of my life had been when a little six year old, black haired little boy had wrapped his arms around my neck and called me daddy. A title I had wished to earn but had lost hope to do so.

However, as time went through, my sweet little boy turned into a terror. I felt lost, I felt unable to connect with him any more. The boy, who had once followed me like a shadow, now pushed me away with all his might.

However, when had had stated I was not his father was the worst day ever. Nothing I knew could compare with the pain I felt that day. Ever since, Brandon had started calling me Jack instead of Dad.

It was not the first time I had to spank Brandon, and now that I thought about it, it wouldn’t be the last. I saw his small, bubbled cheeks. Once pristine white and pale, now a fiery and painful looking pink.

His thighs and under curve where already the same color as his cheeks. My stepson did not relent though. I could feel the anger in him still. With a thigh, I did what my own father had once done.

It was good Brandon was light and small for his age, barely 5ft compared to my 6½. I was able to part his legs and accommodate him better, giving me a new area to spank. His inner cheeks were white, his inner thighs untouched. I placed my hand on his inner cheeks, heat radiated from the spanked zone. I knew by experience this would hurt even more. I knew that the pain here would last at least a day and that every time he walked or moved it would hurt.

Despite the fact that Brandon was small and thin, he had a lovely little bubble butt that my wife and I once liked to tease him about. We used to pat his behind or tell him he looked nice with his big little tush. The boy had always smiled and blushed, covering it with his hand and denying that it was cute.

Well, now my hand rested on it, the tip of my fingers resting atop his little whole. Knowing where I had to spank, I raised my hand and let it fall.

It was only two or three swats later that Brandon was crying and yelping. This skin was more sensitive than any other area. I moved from his upper cleft down to his perineum, landing a couple of softer swats there.

NO! Please! Please...J-Jack! Before he could even finish his pleading I moved down to his inner thighs, knowing that we were almost done.

Five swats to each thigh later and Brandon was sobbing atop my knees. I went back to his cheeks and gave him the hardest three swats yet.

No more skipping school! No more smoking! And no more drinking alcohol until you’re 21! I finished listing the things he had been caught doing that day.

After finishing my tirade, I started rubbing his neck, passing my hand through his soft, slightly long hair with my left hand. My right hand, which I had been punishing him with, rubbed his lower back, then went to rub his abused behind and thighs, before going up to his back.’re ok, kid. You’re ok. I soothed him from time to time.

It took him only a couple of minutes to realize that he could get up from my lap, and he lost no time. Woah, steady now! I chuckled as he rose so suddenly he almost lost his footing. I held his arm as gently as I could looking up at him.

NO! He yelped, taking a step back and moving out of my touch, making him once more lost his footing and fall hard on his freshly spanked behind.

OOOWW! He cried, not even trying to get up, but simply laying on his side and grabbing his abused flesh.

Brandon, baby... I lost no time in kneeling by him, rubbing his back.’s ok, kiddo, it’s okay. I soothed, trying to lift him up. However, I stood frozen on place when, behind all his tears, his icy brown eyes stared at me.

Don’t touch me! He cried, trying to free his arm from my light touch. I raised both arms as if he was a hurt puppy, my heart clenching painfully as he balled himself, one of his hands still clutching his painfully looking bottom while the other rubbed his eyes.

I won’t, Brandon...I won’t. I swore, though all I wanted was to hold him in my arms and rock him as I had done countless times when he was younger. Let me help you to your bed, though. You can’t stay here, kid. I told him as gently as I could.

He said nothing, but then tried to sit up, emanating a yelp from him once more, his tears falling harder, if possible, from his eyes. Trying to touch him as little as possible, I helped him up and guided him to his bed only a couple of steps away.

He fell on his stomach and reached for his pillow, burying his head on it. Calm down, Brandon... I asked softly, trying to place my hand on his shoulder. He had other ideas, though, as he moved his body away from me, curling in to himself.

Leave me! He cried, clutching his pillow tightly. I hate you!

For a moment I wanted to refuse, for a moment I envisioned myself giving him a light swat to his behind for the harsh tone before gathering him in my arms, showering him with kisses and gentle praise for the knowledge that he was a good boy and would behave better. I wanted to sit him on my lap, to replace that pillow with my chest and comb my fingers through his slightly tangled black locks.

What I did, though, was stand from where I sat and walk out of the room. I silently closed his door, my heart clenching painfully as I could hear the loud crying that erupted from him. He was coughing and sobbing, his cries seemed to have increased with my leaving. However, I knew that the boy that had once called me father was gone.

Hours later, unable to sleep, I walked back to my stepson’s room. Everything at the house had been silent for a while now and as I opened the door I noticed he was sleeping.

He still remained clutching the pillow tightly. He had not bothered on changing his t-shirt, nor on putting on some pants or underwear. I doubted he had moved at all, actually.

Guided by the nimble light that entered from the hall, I moved up to him. He was sleeping, as I had deduced, his face full of tear tracks, his breathing light as he clutched the pillow tightly even on his sleep. I then looked back down to his bottom.

The bright pinkness that had been there was now light. It was evident someone had spanked him, but I knew that most of it would be gone by morning, only a remaining soreness lingering. Pulling up his bed sheet, I covered him with it, not before removing his only remaining sock. I knew he liked his feet to be bare when sleeping.

I covered him up to his shoulders, tucking him in like I had done plenty of times when he was a small boy. I love you. I whispered, before landing a kiss atop his head.


I had no plans on falling asleep after last night’s events. I was angry at Jack for it all. I was angrier at myself, though.

I had been stupid enough to want Jack to stay there. I had wanted for him to hug me, but I had once more been proved that I was not wothy or his time nor love. All Jack had done was leave my room until he woke me up this morning.

I had been happy that, at least at some point, I had covered myself with my blanket. I had not even bothered putting on some pants. My butt had been killing me last I knew. Now, though, it faintly hurt, though for a reason I could feel a slight soreness every time I walked or sat. it was rapidly fading, though, and I hoped it would be gone by the time I got to school.

Now, though, I sat before him. He had his usual cup of coffee and sat behind his newspaper, as I looked down at my now soggy cereal. The brightly colored loops moving around by the force of my spoon.

Happily, though, I noticed it was almost time for me to leave if I wanted to reach the school bus. I’ll be taking you to school today, Brandon. Jack spoke without even moving from behind the paper.

I stood frozen for a moment, before glaring back at him. I can take the bus, thanks. I replied, as I grabbed my paper.

You can, but you won’t. He stated, folding the paper and looking back at me. Finish your breakfast, we still have ten more minutes. He stated as he stood and took his empty mug back to the sink.

What the fuck is wrong with you?! I snapped back, as Jack froze before forcefully placing his cup down on the counter. I can take the fucking bus and get to my freaking fu—

ENOUGH! He bellowed, making me slightly jump. Finish your food and then go get your bag and coat. I’ll be taking you and that’s the end of it! He snapped, pointing to my forgotten cereal now and glaring at me.

NO. I stated, crossing my arms.

I’m tired of you defying me all the way, Brandon. He stated, walking towards me. His blue eyes glaring daggers at me. He stood before me now, making me feel small. I hated it all.

Jack was big and fit, though not full out of muscles, it was evident for anyone that he excersised and was in way better shape than even I was. Fuck you.

The words came out of my mouth before I even could register them. And before I knew what was happening, too, I was bent over the table, my nose almost touching my forgotten plate.

I fought to stand back up, but Jack held me still, my right arm locked tightly at my back by his hand, my left arm flaying around as I tried to free myself. Then I heard it. Jack was removing his belt. The sound that it made as it went through the loops unlike any other.


Even though I was wearing my jeans, the sting was evident through the fabric. OUCH! The yelp escaped my mouth, my eyes tearing up once more. My behind was still tender from last night. It was definitely not ready for more. Not today, and not ever!


Three more fell, one landing on my still sensitive under curve while the other on top of my thighs.


It seemed that the process was repeated, and I hoped that would be the end, I was already crying.


OOOOWWWW!!! That last one seemed to be given with all of Jack’s strength, and I couldn’t help but howl as it had landed just where my thighs started.

As fast as I had been bent over the table I was pulled upward, my right arm being freed. I have had enough of your behavior, Brandon. Jack stated, glaring at me and pointing at me with his belt. You have five minutes to finish eating, brush your teeth and be in the car. We can always have a repeat of this, though, if you feel like it.

I glared right back at him, though I was holding my abused butt with both hands now. I’ll eat. I muttered in between clenched teeth, my breath labored. Jack nodded and then sighed. Before he could say more, though, I stepped back and grabbed the bowl, swallowing the remaining milk and soggy loops in one whole drink. I was not that eager to sit.

He extended his hand for the dish which I basically all but threw to him before I ran upstairs to do as instructed.

Soon after, we were both on the most tense ride to school I had ever had. I sat, squirming on my seat, while hugging my bag to my chest. I had never been more eager to get to school as I had been that day.

Minutes later, Jack parked in front of the school. Brandon, He started, though I did not move. He had, after all, placed the stupid child lock and had yet to let me open the door. Brandon, look at me. He asked, his voice almost soft, yet stern.

I complied, glaring back at him, though I said nothing. Brandon...look buddy... I hated him. I hated him.

When is mom coming back? I interrupted whatever it was he wanted to say.

He looked sad, his shoulders sagging. She’ll be back next Tuesday. He answered, making me nod once.

I need to go. I told him fiercely, having to remind myself how much I hated him despite the fact that all I wanted was to wrap my arms around his neck. He hated me, though. He wanted me gone. I knew so. He had once told my mom so.

Ok...I’ll pick you up, today, okay? he told me, before relenting on the lock, despite the fact that the car behind us had already started honking.

I can use the bus. I reminded him, I’m used to it. I snapped back. It had been years since he picked me up at school. Why start now?

I know, but I’ll be here by three. He stated, finally looking back at the van behind us. Have a good day, okay? He told me, his voice sounding insecure all of a sudden.

I hate you. I told him once more, looking directly into his eyes. I wanted to rejoice at the sadness and pain my words caused on his blue eyes, I instead it pained me. I hate you and I wish you were dead.

Before he could say anything or my brain could register the tear that had just escaped his eye, I bolted from the car and all but ran inside the school.

I tried to forget everything that had happened at home on the last 24 hours and just go on with my day as if nothing had happened.

However, it all came to a crashing stop on fourth period. I was seating, trying to ignore the slight ache on my butt as I ignored the droning voice of my history teacher when some yelling started. Yelling followed by what sounded like a firing gun.

There was a shooting at my school. There was a shooting at my school and all I wanted right then was my dad. My dad, whom I had told that morning I hated him.


I concentrated on work as hard as I could. I knew I was driving my secretary crazy as she had been going back and forth around the office on my demand.

All I could think about, though, despite my trying to forget it, was my little boy telling me that he hated me...nature vs nurture...maybe nature won, after all. I had been the best dad I could, and now he hated me.

I had been debating with myself if giving him that impromptu belting this morning had been best. However, I couldn’t take it any more. I was tired of his disrespect and attitude.

Sonya, I’ll be going out for a little while. Any calls, please direct them to my cell. I ordered, as I arranged my suit jacket. I was near my car when my phone rang. Rolling my eyes, I pulled my phone out hoping it was not that insisting client.

However, it was Randy’s, Brandon’s best friend, father. Hey, Tom. I greeted, dreading what Randy and, specially, Brandon, had gotten up to now.

Jack, you have to get to the boy’s school. NOW. He stated, sounding rather frantic. I stopped right in front of my car, placing my hand atop the hood for a moment.

What did they do now? I asked, glaring at the slight dent Brandon had caused with his bike a couple of weeks ago.

However, the words that came out of Tom’s mouth were the last I had wanted to hear...nor had I ever imagined hearing. There was a shooting.

My world seemed to stop, my whole body going cold, my heart stopping altogether before beating almost to the point it seemed it would get out of my chest. Is Brandon...

There are only a few injured...Brandon and Randy were together in history class, we don’t know nothing else. Randy texted us when the shooting started. Brandon doesn’t have his phone with him, though.

No. I nodded, quickly getting into my car and starting to drive, I took it away yesterday. I explained, hating myself for having done so. I’m on my way.

Ok, I’m near the East entrance. They’re letting the students come out from this side.

I sped all the way to the school, making a 25 minute drive into a 15 minute one. I parked as soon as I could, almost having to push myself in between the reporters and the police. I’m a parent! I had to explain over and over, until Tom and Sarah, his wife, waived at me from where they stood.

Where’re the boys? I demanded, as soon as I got there.

We don’t know. Tom responded, as he hugged Sarah tightly, who trembled and cried.

Randy said they were near the west entrance...that’s were the shooting took place. He stated, his tanned face looking pale, his usually warm dark eyes clouded by worry.

I nodded, looking back when students finally started coming out from the school guided by police and teachers, paramedics going into the building making parents more frantic as the press went wild with pictures. There was even a helicopter flying above the school.

Sarah moved out of her husband’s arms and started walking to were the children were exiting, parents going crazy as they hugged their children while others like me tried to find our own.

There are several injured. A young girl cried near us, as she hugged her mom. The shooter got into one of the history classes and started firing before he was brought down. She told her frantic mother as a paramedic got close to verify that she was find.

History class...I glanced down at my watch. Brandon had history class around this time.

Woah, okay? Tom asked as I felt myself sway.

Sir, are you alright? A male paramedic asked as he all but jogged towards were I was. Are you okay? He kept asking, looking at me and signaling some of his peers.

Brandon... I whispered, my eyes already tearing apart. Brandon was... My boy had to be fine. The last thing I had done with him was spank him. I had not even hugged him. When was the last time I had done so?

He hated me. He had said he hated me and I had said nothing but agree with him. Things had gone from bad to worst and I had done nothing to change things with him.

Randy! Sarah’s yell brought me out of my commotion, as the tall woman ran to her equally tall son and enveloped him in a hug and kisses, Tom being torn in between staying with me or his son for a couple of seconds before following his wife.

Right behind Randy, though, stood my own boy. My own little boy with misty eyes as he shivered and hugged himself. I knew the instant his eyes locked with mine, his tears falling as he stood frozen on his spot.

Before I could fully and stand and run towards him, he did, though. He ran all the way were I was and wrapped his arms around my neck. I lifted him up in a tight hug, placing my hand on the back of his head as I pressed repeated kisses wherever I could reach.

I don’t hate you... he mewled. I love you, Daddy...I do... he told me in between cries as he buried his face in my chest as he kept apologizing while telling me he loved me and didn’t hate me.

I know, buddy, I know... I cried myself, rubbing him softly as the paramedic that had been helping me now gestured towards my trembling boy. I nodded, noticing then how cold Brandon was.

Quickly, I removed my jacket and draped it around him. The cloth, which fit me nicely seemed to swallow my boy as he had yet to let my shirt go now.

Hey, kid, I need to check you out for injuries. The paramedic said softly. Having heard everything, he looked sympathetic. It did not take a genius to know that my kid and I had had a heated fight earlier on.

It took me about an hour until we were finally able to get home. Brandon was still wearing my jacket and a blanket he had been offered by the paramedics. Now he slept peacefully on our sofa. He had fallen asleep on the car and I had carried him there.

I had had to calm my frantic wife, telling her our son was fine and that she could stay in Seattle until next week. Knowing her, though, most probably she would surprise us next day.

I could not make myself move from where I sat watching my boy sleep. He was fine. He was safe. He was home....he loved me. My little boy loved me.


Everything was blurry since the first shot was done. All I remember were my classmates yelling as my teacher ordered us to the back to barricade ourselves as he locked our doors.

There were not that many shots, but there was plenty of yelling and all I could think about was my parents. Specially my father. Dad! I heard Randy’s voice cry, as I noticed most of my classmates had their phones out, some chatting some calling. There’s a shooting going out, Dad! He explained.

I didn’t have my phone. Jack...Dad had taken it away yesterday. He said I would be able to have it back in two weeks. As the some other shots rang around all I could think was I wouldn’t be able to tell him how sorry I was. How I loved him. I didn’t hate him, I loved him.

Silence then remained as our teacher hushed us all. I don’t know how much time went through until we were told it was the police and the shooter had been caught. As we went out in a line, I noticed how there was some blood on the floor. A police was carrying an injured girl out, and then we were out of the school.


Kids were yelling out as they rushed towards their parents. Dad wouldn’t be there, though. I knew it. I had told him I hated him several times. I had told him he was not my dad. I had wished him dead. I hated myself...why shouldn’t Dad hate me too?

RANDY!! Mrs. Diaz called as she wrapped her arms around her son. MOM!! DAD! My friend’s frantic voice came as he started crying himself.

I was surrounded by frantic kids and parents. I had never felt more lonely than I did at that moment. Had Dad been here, he would be with Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, but he wasn’t.

Hopefully, I looked all around until I noticed he was seating near an ambulance, a paramedic near him. He looked at me, his eyes showing relief and full of love. DAAD! I yelled and rushed all the way to him before he could move.

Dad...Daaad! I cried again and again, hugging him as tightly as I could. I would had been mortified to do so in public, but at the moment I did not care.

I’m sorry! I cried suddenly, I’m sorry, I am! I told him, burying my face on the crook of his neck. I don’t hate you... I mewled. I love you, Daddy...I do...

His hug seemed to tighten, if that was even possible. We sat there, with me almost atop his lap as he hugged and kissed me tightly. We only separated tightly as he took of his jacket and draped it around me. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I felt the warmth of his suit.

Before long, I had been checked and cleared by a paramedic and Dad had lead me to his car. I hadn’t even stopped my grip all the way there, tightly holding his shirt until I drifted off.

When I woke up it was dark. I looked around, a bit disoriented until I noticed I was in our family room. Dad? I called softly. I was still wearing his jacket, though my shoes and socks had been removed at some point.

I stood and looked around for him, finding him in the kitchen trying to prepare some dinner. For a second I felt akward. Last time we had been here he had been blistering my butt with his belt. He seemed to sense me, though, as he turned around from the stove as he smiled at me.

Hey kid. He said, I’m making your favorite. Some rolls and chilly.

I looked down as my eyes once more filled with tears. This morning I thought he hated me, but here he was, making my favorite dish while I was still wearing his jacket.


Brandon had never seemed younger than he did now. I had made his favorite in the hopes of making him feel better. Now, though, he stood in the kitchen’s doorway. My jacket went down his hips to his upper thighs, his feet still bare. I had removed both, socks and shoes, along with his jeans earlier on.

In reality, I had wanted to check that there were no belt marks from earlier and what better way to do so than when he was sleeping? I had lifted his boxer briefs a bit and checked in. his butt was as creamy white as it normally would.

Now, he stood before me in my jacket, underwear and t-shirt, as he played around with the buttons of said jacket. I noticed how his eyes seemed to be about to cry once more.

Turning the stove off, to avoid any burnt food, I quickly moved towards him and wrapped my arms around him. It’s’re okay, we’re okay. I reassured.

I’m sorry... he whispered once more. I...please, don’t hate me. He begged, his voice cracking.

I was shocked at this and moved him a bit away from me to look into his teary eyes. Oh, sweetheart! I exclaimed, pulling him towards me, I couldn’t! I love you, son! I love you SO much! I followed my statement by a bone crushing hug and a kiss atop his hug.

We stood there for some minutes until I decided it was enough silence. We need to talk, Brandon. I told him as I moved us both to the table. At first I was going to pull out a chair for him but then I followed my instincts and, taking a seat myself I sat him on my lap.

I was surprised when all he did was shift around as he found a comfortable spot. Not even 24 hours ago he would have scoffed and insulted me if I had ever proposed for him to sit beside me on the sofa.

Brandon, look at me, baby. I asked, rubbing small circles on his back as he pulled his face out of my chest. I love you. I told him fiercely, making him blink back tears as he nodded. I have NEVER hated you nor will I EVER be able to do so.

I...I don’t hate you either. He told me, his voice small and rough from so much crying. I never have... he admitted, looking down at his hands that were clutching my shirt.

You hurt me, kid. I told him bluntly, lifting his face gently so I could look into his eyes. You hurt me when you said so.
I know... He whispered.

I know you know. I stated gently, I am sorry, too, though. I told him gently, making his eyes widen.

He looked at my eyes, trying to find some deceit before he nodded. I was angry that you hit me. He told me, making me smile gently at him.

I know you were angry, buddy, but let’s put one thing clear here. I did not hit you, I spanked your naughty behind. I told him, patting said behind gently making him blush deeply, And I WILL spank you again if you misbehave. I told him, making him frown in thought as he looked down at his bare, hairless legs and nodded.

I... He started speaking, looking up into my eyes and then back down to his hands, going quite again.

Go on. I encouraged, clearing his face of all the hair that had fallen into his eyes, making a mental reminder to get him to cut his slightly long hair soon.

I said you didn’t want me no more. He whispered, making me frown. I had never said so. Never. Nor had I ever said so.

However, instead of denying, something in me made me sit silently, until I formed the question I really needed. When? I asked, my voice sounding rough and almost whisper like.

Brandon shifted uneasily, before shrugging and speaking once more. I woke up and went looking for you... He said, But you and mom were talking and I heard Mom asked if you regretted said yes. He said, Then you said that moving here had been the worst decision ever.

I wracked my brain trying to remember such a talk with my wife, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember it, so I listened raptly, then mom asked if you regretted having met us then, and you said yes, you said having a wife and son was the worst thing in the world...I went back to my room and next day you and mom had this big fight. I thought you would divorce but then when I came back from school you were happy again. He said softly.

I remembered then, my heart sinking, Oh, buddy. I shook my head. Would you listen to my side of things? I asked gently, caressing his back, what you heard was the end of a conversation and the start...your mom and I were just teasing each other afterwards. I stated, refusing to tell him that me and his mom had then engaged in more...marital...engagements.

I moved here when I had just graduated college. I told him gently, My parents refused to help me as they wanted me to stay near them and take over my dad’s business. I told him, making his eyes widen.

He knew my parents as dotting grandparents and nothing more. I had trouble finding a job at first and then I went to dine with the last five bucks I had in my pocket. That’s when I met your mom. She was a waitress there. I told him gently.

I did regret meeting you and your mom in those circumstances. Your mom was struggling to make ends meet and I, myself, was struggling to find a decent job. I told him gently, I went back to the same dining and always asked for a glass of water just to get to talk to your mom, and when I had a couple of bucks in my pocket asked for a soda. Your mom, smart as she is, caught up pretty quickly and asked me to join her to the park that afternoon. That day I met this wonderfully joyous little boy who dragged me all around the park to show me just where the best climbing tree was and which was the best swing.

I saw him blush and nod, smiling softly hopefully remembering that day. Your mom and I...we were just teasing each other afterwards. I told him, knowing for a fact he had heard us tease each other several times. Yes, I regretted not having enough money to buy you both a good dinner, or even buy a nice gift for you. I told him, In fact, the first dinner we had together was a pot of mac & cheese your mom was able to do. She invited me over and then blushed, muttering she wished she could do better.

He looked perplexed, I...I don’t remember that. He said softly.

You were barely five, honey. I told him gently, I would be surprised if you noticed. You were rather frantic on showing me around all of your toy cars and introduce me to Grumpy and Teddy. I chuckled, making him smile and blush once more as I mentioned the two companions which he still hid around in his room, tattered as only a stuffed bear and cat would be.

He then frowned though, and looked down at his hands once more. and Mom were fighting next day. He stated, his mind trying to make sense of things.

Well...yes. I stated, blushing myself now, She found out I...well...your grandpa wanted me to accept some help to start the business your mom and I had been talking about and...well, I refused the help without telling your mom. Dad called early that day to ask if I had rethought his proposition... I trailed off, not wanting my kid to know more about what happened.

It was enough, though, the boy nodded and leaned down towards me. That had been months ago...almost a year or so ago. No more words were needed, as Brandon leaned against my chest, one of my hands caressing the back of his head while the other patted his butt gently, just like I had done to calm him down when he was younger.

Silence reined on the kitchen, both of us just enjoying each other’s company for the first time in a long time. I love you, Daddy. Brandon told me gently, breaking said silence.

My heart soared, as I landed a kiss atop his head. I love you too, son.

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