[fic] Bedsheets
Title: Bedsheets
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 973
Summary: Maurice's final moments of life. Warnings: incest.
Disclaimer/Author's note: Fill for: here.
Robert was kneeling on the white tiled floor, gripping his father’s hand with all his might. He didn’t even need to look up to see his father’s expression, because through every visitation it had not changed. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open ever so slightly, his features sagging and loose. The first time he had come into his hospital room Robert had been utterly distraught, because he had never seen his father’s face lacking the tense harshness that seemed to stay there as an eternal reminder that he was managing to fall short of his expectations even slightly. Truly, the only time he had ever seen his father let go of his businessman persona was the day his mother had died. For but one day he channelled the pain and sorrow that a father went through in a lifetime. But never again.
A pained wheeze escaped his father’s lips and his entire body rattled.
“Father, can you hear me?” He whispered and looked up, squeezing his father’s hand.
The only answer he received was another cough, but the man did not open his eyes.
A lump settled in Robert’s throat as he squeezed his hand again, but he could simply feel that his father’s energy was depleting with every moment. The sombre grey walls echoed every distressed utterance, but he would not allow their last few moments to end like this. He had come to see his father every day since he had been hospitalized but never once did his father seem to pay him any mind. Uncle Peter seemed to manage to get his attention when it concerned apathetic notions like trade relations and stock figures which were only really afterthoughts to the legacy he had managed to create. Fischer-Morrow was something greater than the sums outlined in spreadsheets and to be presented to a board of directors. The company was the product of every day that had been taken away from his childhood, every morning where had not been able to kiss his son on his way out the door and to tuck him at night and tell him stories about knights and dragons rather than malevolent Japanese who wanted to sink their claws into their market. He had braved through the stage fright at every school play on his own, Uncle Peter clapping twice as hard as the curtain closed. It was the product of a thousand unlived memories and broken dreams.
Robert let go of his father’s hand and tugged at the thin hospital blanket until it had entirely fallen on the floor. He stood, climbing out to the bed and carefully straddled him, as his father’s body looked so brittle that it might have been entirely made of glass and if he put too much pressure against any part he would crush it. He gently pushed up the sea foam hospital gown, eliciting a coarse breath and causing him to pause at the sight of the pale flesh. Robert remembered how he had used to eagerly check the tabloids whenever in hopes that would see any mention of the CEO of Fischer-Morrow being photographed with some young mistress. He just wanted someone to love his father and for his father to love someone again. It had been far too long since father had been… happy.
His hands hesitantly touched his father’s prick, and as much it would hurt him inside to see his father’s eyes snap open and glare at him for lacking any propriety it would have been better than the cold, dull hum of the machines that were keeping him alive. He touched and squeezed the soft flesh with uncertainty, his eyes set on his father’s expression. “Father…” He murmured, biting down his lip as he continued to rub incessantly. When he finally felt the flesh harden he became so surprised that he accidentally bit hard enough his lip that he drew blood, tears welling up. He arched his back and leaned down until his mouth was right at the tip. He leaned forward and took into his mouth, centimetre by centimetre, heartbreak by heartbreak. Robert sucked gently and caringly, the heart rate monitor acting as his pacing mechanism. He didn’t know if he was doing a good job or whether his father could feel it at all with all of the pain medication he was on. Perhaps all of these passing moments were just lucid dreams from which he faded in and fade out, akin to how he had been a father to him. As his tongue swiped protruding veins on the side a small amount of bitter precum oozed out, which he lovingly swallowed. His sucking became more forceful, begging his father’s body for more sweet solace. All he wanted, needed was just a few moments that he had never gotten in his father’s lifetime, but now… Finally Maurice’s body gave a few brief series of spasms and his head whipped back and forth as he came, a pitiful whimper escaping.
Robert retracted and looked up, cum trailing down his cherry lips and onto the cotton bed sheets.
“Please, look at me…” He choked, out of breath and out of time.
“I… will always… love you, Robert.” He gasped, wide-eyed as if he was seeing his son for the first time. The expression of true, pure joy graced his face for but a second before Maurice closed his eyes for the final time.
Tears streamed down his pale white cheek.
But he would never be able to give his father one last fleeting moment of happiness, because while his father had drawn his last breath in Los Angeles Robert had been on a plane to Moscow, counting clouds and thinking of how he could harness the power of the things that normal people took for granted, just like father had taught him.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 973
Summary: Maurice's final moments of life. Warnings: incest.
Disclaimer/Author's note: Fill for: here.
Robert was kneeling on the white tiled floor, gripping his father’s hand with all his might. He didn’t even need to look up to see his father’s expression, because through every visitation it had not changed. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open ever so slightly, his features sagging and loose. The first time he had come into his hospital room Robert had been utterly distraught, because he had never seen his father’s face lacking the tense harshness that seemed to stay there as an eternal reminder that he was managing to fall short of his expectations even slightly. Truly, the only time he had ever seen his father let go of his businessman persona was the day his mother had died. For but one day he channelled the pain and sorrow that a father went through in a lifetime. But never again.
A pained wheeze escaped his father’s lips and his entire body rattled.
“Father, can you hear me?” He whispered and looked up, squeezing his father’s hand.
The only answer he received was another cough, but the man did not open his eyes.
A lump settled in Robert’s throat as he squeezed his hand again, but he could simply feel that his father’s energy was depleting with every moment. The sombre grey walls echoed every distressed utterance, but he would not allow their last few moments to end like this. He had come to see his father every day since he had been hospitalized but never once did his father seem to pay him any mind. Uncle Peter seemed to manage to get his attention when it concerned apathetic notions like trade relations and stock figures which were only really afterthoughts to the legacy he had managed to create. Fischer-Morrow was something greater than the sums outlined in spreadsheets and to be presented to a board of directors. The company was the product of every day that had been taken away from his childhood, every morning where had not been able to kiss his son on his way out the door and to tuck him at night and tell him stories about knights and dragons rather than malevolent Japanese who wanted to sink their claws into their market. He had braved through the stage fright at every school play on his own, Uncle Peter clapping twice as hard as the curtain closed. It was the product of a thousand unlived memories and broken dreams.
Robert let go of his father’s hand and tugged at the thin hospital blanket until it had entirely fallen on the floor. He stood, climbing out to the bed and carefully straddled him, as his father’s body looked so brittle that it might have been entirely made of glass and if he put too much pressure against any part he would crush it. He gently pushed up the sea foam hospital gown, eliciting a coarse breath and causing him to pause at the sight of the pale flesh. Robert remembered how he had used to eagerly check the tabloids whenever in hopes that would see any mention of the CEO of Fischer-Morrow being photographed with some young mistress. He just wanted someone to love his father and for his father to love someone again. It had been far too long since father had been… happy.
His hands hesitantly touched his father’s prick, and as much it would hurt him inside to see his father’s eyes snap open and glare at him for lacking any propriety it would have been better than the cold, dull hum of the machines that were keeping him alive. He touched and squeezed the soft flesh with uncertainty, his eyes set on his father’s expression. “Father…” He murmured, biting down his lip as he continued to rub incessantly. When he finally felt the flesh harden he became so surprised that he accidentally bit hard enough his lip that he drew blood, tears welling up. He arched his back and leaned down until his mouth was right at the tip. He leaned forward and took into his mouth, centimetre by centimetre, heartbreak by heartbreak. Robert sucked gently and caringly, the heart rate monitor acting as his pacing mechanism. He didn’t know if he was doing a good job or whether his father could feel it at all with all of the pain medication he was on. Perhaps all of these passing moments were just lucid dreams from which he faded in and fade out, akin to how he had been a father to him. As his tongue swiped protruding veins on the side a small amount of bitter precum oozed out, which he lovingly swallowed. His sucking became more forceful, begging his father’s body for more sweet solace. All he wanted, needed was just a few moments that he had never gotten in his father’s lifetime, but now… Finally Maurice’s body gave a few brief series of spasms and his head whipped back and forth as he came, a pitiful whimper escaping.
Robert retracted and looked up, cum trailing down his cherry lips and onto the cotton bed sheets.
“Please, look at me…” He choked, out of breath and out of time.
“I… will always… love you, Robert.” He gasped, wide-eyed as if he was seeing his son for the first time. The expression of true, pure joy graced his face for but a second before Maurice closed his eyes for the final time.
Tears streamed down his pale white cheek.
But he would never be able to give his father one last fleeting moment of happiness, because while his father had drawn his last breath in Los Angeles Robert had been on a plane to Moscow, counting clouds and thinking of how he could harness the power of the things that normal people took for granted, just like father had taught him.