Logan Grant slammed the door to his house, his heavy boots echoing through the marble-tiled hallway. He'd had it up to here with work today. One of the new guys hadn't followed the instructions right and now the whole construction site was behind schedule. His jaw was clenched so tight it was a miracle he hadn't cracked a tooth.

"Emmet!" he bellowed, his gruff voice ricocheting off the vaulted ceilings. "Where the hell are you?"

"In the kitchen, daddy!" Emmie's high-pitched, slightly nasal voice floated from the back of the house. "Your dinner's ready!"

Logan's stomach rumbled as he stomped towards the kitchen. He hadn't had time for lunch, and the thought of roasting lamb had been torture all the way home. The kitchen was a flurry of activity as Emmie flitted around, setting the dining room table with a fancy, white tablecloth and silverware. The 18-year-old had always been a good cook, and Logan had to admit it was one of the few things he privately liked about the boy that weren't embarrassing.

"You'd better not have fucked this up," Logan grunted, plopping into a chair at the head of the table. "I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight."

Emmie strutted in, his tight little ass wiggling in a pair of skinny jeans. "It's perfect, daddy," he cooed, placing a steaming plate of food in front of his father. "I think I got it just how you like it."

Logan picked up his knife and fork, his eyes lingering on the perfectly cooked meat. "Well?" he said, his voice a warning. "Is it or isn't it?"

"It's perfect, I promise," Emmie said, his green eyes wide and innocent. "I'd never serve you anything less."

Logan took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. The lamb practically melted in his mouth, and the buttered potatoes were heavenly. He couldn't help the grumble of pleasure that escaped his lips. "Fine," he said, relenting. "It's good."

Emmie beamed, setting his own plate down before retreating to the kitchen. "Do you want dessert, daddy?" he called out, his voice dripping with sugary sweetness.

Logan's gaze followed the sway of Emmie's ass as he disappeared through the swinging door. He felt his cock thicken in his pants. "Yeah," he said, his voice a low growl. "But I think I know what I want for dessert."

Emmie reappeared, his eyebrows arched. "Oh, really?" He sauntered back to the table, his hips rolling seductively. "And what would that be?"

Logan took another bite of his dinner, eyeing his son as he chewed. "You know what," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "But maybe later. First, there's something we need to talk about. Your brother's coming home."

"Oh, Leon is back?" Emmie said, his voice light. "I can't wait to see him."

"Don't get too excited," Logan grunted. "You've got work to do before he gets here. Don't even think you can act the way you usually do when your brother is here."

"Whatever you say, daddy," Emmie said, his voice dripping with submission. He leaned in close, his full, pink lips brushing against Logan's ear. "But I know what you really want for dessert, and I'm more than happy to oblige."

Logan's heart raced as he felt his son's hot breath on his neck. He couldn't deny it; Emmie's russet hair and soft curves had always been a temptation, even though the boy was a walking disaster in every other aspect of his life. But Logan had decided a long time ago that if his son was going to act like a slut, it was better for him to be the one in charge. Plus, it kept the little shit out of trouble.

"Finish up and get to your room," Logan said, his voice gruff. "I'll come for you when I'm done here."

Emmie nodded obediently, his cheeks flushing a delicious shade of pink. He practically skipped to the kitchen to tidy up, his movements efficient and graceful despite his hurry. Logan couldn't help but watch him go, his eyes tracing the curve of his ass and the way his skinny jeans clung to his thick thighs. It was a sight that never failed to stir something deep within him, something primal and demanding.

While Emmie worked, Logan pulled out his phone, scrolling through the never-ending barrage of work messages. The construction company was his life's work, and even though he had his brother to help with the finances, the stress was all his. With a sigh, he set the phone aside and focused on his dinner, his thoughts drifting back to his son. Even though it had been just a day since he'd last had the boy, his body already craved the feel of Emmie's tight, young ass around his cock.

As he ate, he listened to the clank of pans and the occasional giggle that drifted out from the kitchen. Emmie was always in his own little world, oblivious to the chaos he caused. It was one of the things that both infuriated and fascinated Logan about him. He finished his meal and leaned back in his chair, patting his burgeoning gut with a satisfied sigh.

Finally, he could wait no longer. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and stood up, his cock already stiffening at the thought of what was to come. "Alright, boy," he called out. "I'm heading up."

The giggling from the kitchen stopped abruptly, and Emmie's voice called back, "Coming, daddy!" It wasn't even a second before the boy came running from the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Oh, I sure will." Logan chuckled darkly to himself as he climbed the stairs after his son. He could already hear telltale sounds from Emmie's room, probably the little sissy getting ready. The door was ajar, and as he approached, the noises grew louder: the wet slap of silicone and Emmie's breathy moans. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

Emmie was sprawled on his bed, his legs spread wide, working a thick dildo into his ass. The room was a garish mess of pinks and purples, with lacy underwear thrown about like confetti. The sight was almost comical, if not for the fact that it made Logan's cock throb with need.

"Suck it," he growled, his hand already on his zipper. "Suck your daddy's cock, you little faggot."

Emmie's eyes snapped open, and he looked up with a smile that was both eager and slightly nervous. He tossed the dildo aside and scurried over to his father, his plump ass wiggling with every step. Logan's cock was a beast now, thick and hard as Emmie's soft lips wrapped around it. He grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and pushed him down, watching with satisfaction as his son's cheeks hollowed and his throat bulged with every inch he took.

"That's right," Logan said, his voice thick with lust. "Take it all, you greedy little slut."

Emmie's eyes watered as he tried to keep up with the pace, his cheeks reddening and his nose brushing against the dark hair at the base of Logan's cock. Logan's grip on his hair tightened, guiding him faster and deeper until Emmie was gagging and spluttering around the thick shaft. The taste of precum and sweat filled his mouth, and the scent of his father's musk overwhelmed him.

"Look at you," Logan sneered, pulling Emmie's head back so he could see the tears and drool streaming down his son's face. "You love it, don't you?"

Emmie nodded, his voice strangled, his own small cock bobbing in time with his father's thrusts. He reached up, his hands shaking, to cup Logan's heavy balls, feeling them tighten with each thrust.

"You want daddy's cock in you, don't you?" Logan said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You want me to fuck you until you can't walk straight?"

"Yes," Emmie gasped, his voice barely audible. "Please, daddy."

Logan smirked and released his son's head, watching as Emmie took a deep, gulping breath. "Good boy," he said, patting Emmie's cheek with the back of his hand. "Now, ass up and face down."

Emmie eagerly complied, crawling onto the bed, his legs falling open and his ass in the air. The sight made Logan's cock throb even more, and he grabbed the lube, squirting a generous amount into his palm. He slid two fingers into the boy's hole, feeling the heat and tightness that always surprised him despite their frequent encounters.

"You're already so wet for me," Logan murmured, pumping his fingers in and out. "It's like you've been waiting all day for this."

Emmie whimpered, his body trembling with need. Logan watched with a mix of disgust and arousal as his son's ass took the abuse, the muscles clenching around his digits. "You're such a good faggot," he said, his voice rough. "Such a good little slut." The boy's prick was already drooling precum, making even more of a mess of the disgustingly pink bedsheets.

The insults only made Emmie more desperate. He pushed back onto Logan's hand, begging for more. "Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Daddy, please."

Logan leaned down, his teeth grazing Emmie's ear. "What was that?" he growled. "I couldn't quite hear you."

"Fuck me," Emmie moaned. "Fuck me hard, daddy."

With a grin, Logan withdrew his fingers and lined up his cock. "Fucking whore. Don't worry, dear old dad will give you what you deserve," he said, and then slammed into his son without warning.

Emmie's scream was muffled by the pillow he'd bitten into, his body arching as he was filled completely. Logan didn't bother to ease in; he knew Emmie could take it. Instead, he began to pound into him, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room.

Emmie's eyes rolled back in his head, his mind a haze of pain and pleasure. He felt his own cock pulse between his legs, leaking pre-cum onto the bed beneath him. The pink sheets were already stained with lube and sweat, and he knew they'd be ruined by the end of the night. But all he could focus on was the feeling of his father's massive cock stretching him, filling him in a way no one else ever had.

"You like that faggot?" Logan growled, his hips moving like a piston. "You like it when daddy makes you his dirty little whore?"

Emmie nodded frantically, his voice nothing more than a series of moans and gasps. He could feel his ass being torn apart, the burn of his father's thickness driving him closer to the edge. He reached down, his hand shaking, to stroke his own cock.

"Not yet," Logan barked, slapping Emmie's hand away. "You don't get to come until I say so."

Emmie whined, his hips bucking up to meet every thrust. Logan sneered, watching the boy's face contort with a mix of pain and ecstasy. "You're so loose, boy," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "I swear, you're like a fucking mine shaft back here. Did you break our rules again and let someone else fuck your pussy?" Just the thought of Emmie once again relapsing into bad habits made Logan drill into the whining sissy even more harshly.  "Speak up faggot! How many cocks have you had in that ass today?"

Emmie managed a shaky, "Just yours, daddy. I promise!" His words were barely coherent around his sobs, his voice high-pitched and desperate.

Logan's eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction as he leaned over his son, his heavy body pressing the boy into the bed. "Is that so?" He grabbed Emmie's generous hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he began to pound even harder. "You're such a whore, you'd probably let anyone fuck you if you thought it'd get you a little bit of attention, wouldn't you?"

Emmie's sobs grew louder as Logan's cock mercilessly claimed his ass, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. His own tiny dick was now pulsing with need, leaving wet spots on the bed as he struggled not to come without permission.

"Please, daddy," Emmie whined into the pillow. "Please, no more."

But Logan was just getting started. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, watching the way Emmie's body convulsed with every impact. "So fucking loose, boy," he taunted. "I've seen snatches that were tighter than this shithole you call an ass."

Emmie's reaction to the insults only spurred Logan on, his strokes growing more brutal. He enjoyed the way Emmie's body reacted, the way he begged and pleaded for more, even as the pain washed over him. It was a power trip, and one that Logan didn't intend to end anytime soon.

"You want more, don't you?" he growled. "You want your daddy to ruin you completely. Such a desperate cockslut."

"Daddy," Emmie panted, his eyes glazed with lust. "Daddy, please, more!"

That was all the invitation Logan needed. He leaned back, his cock still buried deep inside Emmie, and grabbed his son's legs, twisting the boy on his back and pushing his legs up and back until the boy's ankles were by his ears. The new angle was even better, giving him access to the deepest, most sensitive parts of the younger man's body. He began to fuck him even harder, the sound of their flesh meeting filling the room.

"You're gonna take it all," Logan said, his voice low and menacing. "You're gonna scream for me, beg for it. And when I'm done, you're gonna be so fucked up, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

The pain was intense, but it was the kind of pain that Emmie craved. He'd always enjoyed the feeling of being dominated, being used by a man who knew exactly how to push his buttons. And his daddy knew all his buttons.

"Daddy," he moaned, his body shaking. "Daddy, please, I can't-"

But Logan didn't let up. He watched with sadistic pleasure as Emmie's body writhed beneath him, his ass clamping down around his cock like a vice. He could feel the boy's prostate swelling with each punishing thrust, and he knew it wouldn't be long now.

"Come for me," he snarled. "Come on my cock you little slut."

Emmie's body tensed, his orgasm ripping through him like a tornado. He screamed into the pillow, his body convulsing as he came, his cum painting the pink sheets beneath him. But Logan didn't stop, didn't even slow down. He just kept pounding away, his eyes never leaving the stretched, reddened hole that was his son's ass.

The sight of Emmie's pathetic little cock shooting its tiny load only made Logan more determined. He leaned back, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of his son's hips, and began to hammer into him even harder. Emmie's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure and pain. Logan could feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening, but he forced himself to hold back. He wanted more from the boy. He wanted to break him down completely.

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust, crowding out the obnoxious floral scent that always seemed to surround the little sissy. Emmie's legs began to quiver, his body quivering under the brutal assault. Logan could see the beginnings of bruises forming on the boy's thighs from where he held him so tightly. But he didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of his son's tight ass around his cock, the way Emmie's body responded to his every touch as he kept his thrusts squarely aimed at the boy's swollen prostate.

"Again," Logan ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. "Come again for daddy."

Emmie's eyes snapped open, the pain momentarily forgotten in his desperation to please. He pushed his hips back, meeting his father's thrusts with renewed vigor. His cock, now soft and spent, twitched with each slam into his ass, and his prostate sang with a mix of pleasure and pain.

Logan watched, his strokes growing even more punishing. He could feel the beginnings of his own orgasm, the tingle at the base of his spine that told him it was almost time. He leaned down, his teeth biting into the soft skin of Emmie's shoulder as he reached between them to wrap his hand around the boy's cock. He began to jerk him off roughly, his calloused thumb circling the sensitive head.

"Again," Logan demanded. "Come on, you little bitch. Show me how much you love it."

Emmie's body tensed again, his muscles tightening around Logan's cock. He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe his father could bring him to the edge again so quickly. But there was no denying the sensation, no escaping the inevitable climax that was barreling down on him like a freight train.

With a wail that was more animal than human, Emmie came again, his cum spurting weakly into his father's hand. His body was a wreck, his ass sore and his mind fuzzy from the sheer intensity of it all. But even as the pleasure washed over him, he knew it wasn't enough. Logan wasn't done with him yet.

Logan felt his own orgasm building, his cock swelling inside his son's ass. He slammed into Emmie one last time, his hips jerking as he came, filling the boy with his seed. Logan was panting like a racehorse, watching his son's heaving back with sadistic satisfaction. He pulled out, his cum leaking from Emmie's abused hole, and watched as his son's body went limp, the pillow now soaked with tears and drool.

With a satisfied grunt, Logan rolled off the bed, his cock still hard. He looked down at his son's wrecked body, the bruises already forming, and felt a strange mix of pride and affection. His son really was a little slut for pain; the thought of what might have happened in those seedy bars he used to frequent made him want to punish Emmie all over again.

But he pushed those thoughts aside. For now, he was in charge. And as long as he kept Emmie under his thumb, he could control the chaos that was his life.

"Looks like you're growing used to earning your keep around here, boy," he murmured to Emmie's nearly unconscious form. "I've got just the thing for you."

Logan's eyes gleamed with a mix of malice and desire as he reached down and picked up the toy his son had played with. The thick, purple dildo that was almost the size of his own cock. It was a toy that Emmie had brought home one day, something that had made his stomach turn and his blood boil. But now, it was going to be a part of their little routine. He slapped it against Emmie's reddened ass, watching as the boy's body jerked.

"You're going to take this," he said, his voice cold. "And you're going to thank me for it."

Emmie's eyes fluttered open, meeting his father's intense gaze. He was too drained to protest, too overwhelmed by the waves of pain and pleasure that had crashed over him. He watched as Logan coated the dildo with lube, the latex shimmering under the soft light. It was obscene, a twisted reflection of his father's own thick member that had just ravaged him.

With a cruel smile, Logan pushed the tip into Emmie's still-twitching hole. Emmie gasped, his body tightening involuntarily. With the exception of his daddy's cock, the dildo was bigger than anything else he'd ever taken, and the initial stretch was almost too much to bear for his sore hole.

"It's okay, baby," Logan said, his voice mockingly gentle. "Daddy's got you."

He began to pump the toy in and out of Emmie, his strokes slow and deliberate at first. Emmie's cries grew louder with each thrust, his body shaking with the effort to take the intrusion, his ass stretched beyond its limits.

"You're so pretty when you're in pain," Logan murmured, his eyes never leaving his son's face. "So much better than when you're acting like a cheap whore for anyone who'll give you the time of day."

The words cut deep, but Emmie knew better than to argue. He bit his lip, his nails digging into the bed as he tried to hold back his sobs. The dildo was unforgiving, filling him completely and leaving no room for anything else. He could feel his poor prostate swell with every thrust, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable.

"Please," Emmie begged, his voice shaking. "Daddy, please, enough, it's too much, I can't-"

"You can, and you will," Logan said, his grip on the base of the toy unyielding. "You're going to take every inch of this, and you're going to love it."

The room spun around Emmie as he felt himself lose control. The pain was too much, the sensation of being so completely filled overwhelming. His body began to spasm, his legs kicking out as Logan fucked him with the dildo.

Emmie's eyes rolled back in his head as his final orgasm built, more pain than pleasure at this point, his body shaking with the force of it.

"Look at you," Logan said, his voice filled with disdain. "So eager to be used. Clench down for me slut."

And somehow, Emmie did. His hole clenched around the dildo, trying to push it out even as he begged for relief from this torment. His body responded to the harsh words, the pain turning into a twisted form of pleasure that had him whimpering and begging for his father's mercy.

But Logan had no mercy. He kept going, the dildo slamming into Emmie's prostate with a rhythm that was almost hypnotic. Emmie's moans grew louder, his cries of pain turning into pleas for relief.

"Go on, come for me boy," Logan snarled. "Fucking do it."

And Emmie did. He came again, his body convulsing as he was pushed past his limits. His vision went white, his mind a haze of agony and ecstasy.

Finally, Logan stopped, his need to see his naughty son punished finally satisfied. He left the dildo in  Emmie's gaping hole, watching as the boy's body went limp, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Looks like someone's had enough for one night," he said, his voice gruff.

Emmie couldn't even nod, his body trembling with exhaustion. The pain was intense, but the feeling of his father's dominance was something he craved. Whenever daddy fucked him like this, he felt truly loved, even through the pain.

"I love you daddy," he murmured, his breaths slowly evening out as his body gave in to exhaustion.

Logan paused, the dildo still lodged in Emmie's ass, his hand still moving in the lazy rhythm of the aftermath. He looked down at his son, at the sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, the way his body was still quivering slightly from the last of his climaxes. Emmie was a mess, but Logan couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in his chest. It was twisted, sure, but it was something he hadn't felt in a while, something that made him feel like he was doing right by the boy.

He sighed and pulled the dildo out with a wet pop, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Emmie whimpered in his sleep, his body jerking slightly before settling again. Logan couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. It had been four years since he'd found out about Emmie's promiscuity. Four years since he'd decided to take matters into his own hands, to keep his son safe by becoming his lover. If he'd known sooner, maybe he could have stopped it before it started.

But no, that was a lie. Logan knew that even if he had known sooner, he probably still would have done the same thing. The thought of some stranger taking what was rightfully his had made him furious beyond reason. It was why he'd started to keep such a tight leash on Emmie, why he'd made sure the boy knew who was in charge. And every time Emmie called him daddy during sex, every time he begged for more, it only reinforced Logan's belief that he'd made the right choice.

He walked into Emmie's bathroom, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the muggy heat of the bedroom. He ran a washcloth under the warm water, watching the steam rise in the mirror as he squeezed it out. He took a moment to compose himself, to push down the rage that still bubbled under the surface whenever he thought about the truck driver who'd taken his son's innocence. The man didn't know who he was dealing with, didn't know that one day he'd find himself face to face with the kind of fury that could only come from a protective father.

When he returned to the bed, Emmie was asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light. Logan's hands were gentle as he cleaned his son up, wiping the sweat and cum from his body with the warm cloth. He was always careful not to let people see this side of him, the side that cared, that felt anything beyond lust and anger. But it was there, just beneath the surface, and it was moments like these with his sons that made it harder to keep hidden.

After placing the tube of ointment on the nightstand, Logan bent over and kissed Emmie's forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. The boy's skin was sticky with sweat and lube, but he didn't care. This was his son, and no matter how fucked up things had gotten, he still loved him.

He gently turned Emmie over onto his stomach and began to massage the ointment into his abused hole, taking the opportunity to pull the soiled sheets out from under him. Emmie whimpered in his sleep, but his body relaxed as Logan's firm, calloused hands worked their magic. The sight of his son's tight little asshole always made him want more, even swollen as it was, but he knew the boy needed to heal.

With a sigh, left the dirty sheets on the floor. The dildo soon joined them, a stark purple against the pink sheets. Emmie would deal with them tomorrow, after he'd finished his rest. Logan decided that Emmie deserved to sleep in.

Emmie meanwhile looked like a cherub, his reddened cheeks flushed with sleep and his plump body sprawled across the bed. It was a stark contrast to the whore he'd been just moments ago, begging and pleading for his father's cock.

He leaned down and whispered into Emmie's ear, "You're a good boy," his voice a mix of affection and dominance. "Sleep tight princess."

With that, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He knew that when Emmie woke up, he'd be sore, but hopefully the extra rest would help.

---

In the morning, Logan made his way downstairs to the kitchen, his muscles pleasantly sore from the previous night's exertions. He started the coffee and pulled out the eggs and bacon, his mind racing with thoughts of Emmie's tight little ass and the sounds he'd made when he was overwhelmed. His son was so beautiful in the throes of passion. He desperately needed to find a way to still spend some private time with him once Leon was back. Not just because he loved burying himself in Emmie, but also to prevent the boy from straying.

The smell of breakfast cooking filled the house, and Logan couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He was taking care of his son, keeping him safe, and frankly he didn't give a fuck if it was in a way that would make most people's stomachs turn.

Emmie and Leon were the only good thing his worthless, gold-digging bitch of a wife had ever given him. The horrid shrew had been the final nail in the coffin that anyone who wasn't family would drop you if push came to shove. At least the old cunt had the decency to bite it before either of their sons were old enough to remember or miss her.

He plated up the food and added a side of pancakes, knowing Emmie had a sweet tooth. Balancing the tray with one hand, he made his way back up the stairs, his cock already beginning to stir at the thought of waking his son up with breakfast in bed.

When he entered the room, Emmie was still asleep, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Logan set the tray down on the nightstand and gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up, boy," he said, his voice gruff with the remnants of his orgasm from the night before.

Emmie's eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at his father with a mix of adoration and fear. He knew he'd be sore, but the way his father was looking at him made him feel cherished in a way that no one else ever had.

"I made you breakfast," Logan said, his voice softer now. "You've earned it."

He watched as Emmie sat up slowly, his body protesting with every movement. The boy's eyes widened when he saw the food, and a small smile played across his lips. "Thank you, daddy," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

Logan couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest. This was his son, his little whore, and he'd do anything to keep him safe.

He handed Emmie a plate and a glass of juice, watching as he picked at the food. "Eat up," he said. "You're going to need your strength. No chores today outside of cleaning up your room and shopping. We need to prepare for your brother coming back."

Emmie knew what that meant, and his stomach flipped with a mix of dread and excitement. But for now, he just focused on the food, the sweetness of the pancakes a stark contrast to the bitter taste of his own cum in his mouth from the night before.

As they ate in silence, the only sound the clink of silverware against porcelain, Logan's mind began to drift to the future. Leon would be home soon, and he'd need to keep up this facade of normalcy. But for now, he had Emmie all to himself, and he wasn't about to let go.

The house was still, the only movement the occasional flutter of the curtains in the breeze. Logan took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste a perfect match for his mood. He had a feeling that things were about to get a whole lot more complicated. But for now, he had his son, and that was all that mattered.

---

The mall bustled with the typical weekend crowd, a cacophony of laughter and chatter that was almost soothing to Emmie after the tension of the night before. He'd always enjoyed the anonymity of public spaces, the feeling of being lost in a sea of faces that didn't know his deepest secrets, wondering if any of them too knew the thrills he'd experienced.

He strolled down the gleaming tiles, his eyes scanning the various storefronts. They weren't like the shops near the red-light district; there were no sex shops with vaguely sleazy advertisements or clothes stores stocked with rainbow colored T-shirts proclaiming the wearer to be daddy's little faggot. The mannequins in the lingerie shop caught his eye, their plastic forms adorned with lace and silk that whispered of illicit desires. He lingered for a moment, a wistful smile playing across his lips as he imagined the look on Logan's face if he were to return home in a pair of those skimpy thongs. But he knew better than to push his father too far. Settling down in one of the numerous cafés in the mall, Emmie's thoughts drifted to Leon, his mind racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

He'd missed his brother, the one person in the world who'd always had his back, even when Logan's attention was elsewhere. But with Leon back, their secret would have to be buried even deeper, hidden behind a facade of brotherly love and familial affection.

As he sipped a latte in the café, Emmie couldn't help but wonder how Leon had changed in the years they'd been apart. Would he still be the same gentle giant who'd held him tight when he'd confessed his feelings of confusion and fear when he realized he felt drawn to men? Or would the distance and time have hardened him, turned him into someone unrecognizable?

Emmie's thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of his phone. A text from Logan: "Remember what I said, boy. No funny business around Leon. We'll figure it out." The message sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of fear and anticipation. He knew his father was watching over him, keeping him safe, even when they weren't together. It was both comforting and restricting, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The doors to the café swung open, and the cool breeze brought with it the scent of fresh flowers from the stand outside. Emmie's heart skipped a beat as he watched a young man with dark hair and a charming smile walk by. The stranger glanced his way, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. He felt a twinge of desire, the kind that made his stomach flutter and want to approach the man in search for a good time. But just as quickly as it came, the feeling was crushed by the weight of his father's words. He knew better than to stray; Logan would not tolerate it.

With a sigh, Emmie finished his drink and stood up, the ache in his ass a constant reminder of the night before. He couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the freedom he'd enjoyed before that fateful night he'd confessed his misdeeds to his father. But as he stepped out into the bright sunlight, the painful truth settled in his mind: he didn't really want to be with anyone else anymore. He was daddy's little slut, and he liked it that way.

The mall's sounds grew fainter as he walked towards the exit, his thoughts racing with the impending arrival of Leon. How would his brother react to the new dynamics in their home? Would he see the bruises and the way Emmie flinched when he sat down? Would he guess their secret? And if he did, what would he say?