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In His Pocket

by

Erica Pike

IceCavePublishing

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, incidents, places, and characters are products of the

author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual locales or events or

persons living or dead are coincidental.

In His Pocket © 2011 by Erica Pike

In His Pocket © 2013 by Erica Pike

Published by

Ice Cave Publishing

Iceland

This is a FREE fiction and shall remain free. This work may be distributed it in its entirety, as

long as proper credit is given to the author. This work may not be reproduced in any way

without a written permission from the author. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Erica Pike

Editing by Sarah Heitzman Yule

Photo by © Vladimir Wangel – Depositphotos

ISBN: 978-9979-72-401-8

Originally Published by

No Boundaries Press

First Edition: January 2012

Second Edition: June 2013

Disclaimer: This work contains sexual intercourse between two adults and some vulgar

language. It not meant for the eyes of underage people.

Please visit

http://www.ericapike.com

for more information about the author, her titles, and

other tidbits.

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Acknowledgements

Thanks to Pati for all the encouragement, to Paul for beta reading, and Sarah for the

wonderful edits. A great, big hug to the people who read my books – love you all.

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In His Pocket

Matt was only fourteen when I found him digging through my trash. He was a

scrawny, pale, shaggy-haired kid with so much hunger in his big, brown eyes that I took him

in and fed him. Right after I made him shower to get rid of the horrible stench of weeks on the

streets. The sweater I gave him to wear hung like sharpie skin on his skinny arms, and the

hem reached down to his knobby knees. He ate three bowls of stew that night and burped with

a contented sigh afterward.

After a lot of internal debate, I decided to let him crash on my couch with the intent of

taking him to the social services the following day. When morning came, however, Matt

managed to persuade me to take him in permanently. It wasn’t just his big, puppy-dog eyes.

He also told me horror stories from his life that brought out all sorts of protectiveness from

within me. Apparently Matt was no stranger to social workers after having drifted between

foster homes for years. It took me several weeks to clear things so he could live with me, but I

did it, and we’ve been living together ever since.

Taking Matt in put a big shiner on my love life. I couldn’t bring guys home for fear

that social services would catch wind of my sexuality, and take Matt away. I wasn’t having

any luck with men anyway, so it wasn’t a big loss.

Raising a troubled kid was not an easy task. We had a healthy balance of good times

and bad–the good far outweighing the bad. Matt, happy to be allowed to stay, made things as

easy on me as he could in the beginning, but he quickly grew more confident. Well, let’s just

say that he left me dumfounded more often than not.

When he was fifteen, I woke up with Matt hovering over my body, staring down at my

morning wood. I dragged him off to my closet, dug out a key to my drawer, and shoved a

pristine Playboy issue into his hands saying that if he was curious about body parts, he should

be looking at the right ones. Matt cast me a dark scowl, lifted the pile, and pulled out a

random magazine from the middle–a battered Playgirl magazine.

“Wait,” I said as he stood up. “You mean you knew about..?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know I’m..?”

“Yeah.”

Matt walked toward the door with the Playgirl in hand.

“Wait, does this mean you’re..?

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“Yeah, Dad. I’m gay.”

That’s how he came out to me and I wondered for weeks if coming out to people was

this easy these days. If it was, things certainly had taken a u-turn over the past couple of years.

I desperately hoped that childcare wouldn’t find out about his sexuality. They might think that

I had something to do with his orientation and take him away, but god darn it how was I

supposed to go about raising a gay teen? At twenty-two, I was barely an adult myself and still

didn’t have everything figured out.

At sixteen Matt brought home a boyfriend and introduced him in a carefree manner. I

had no idea what to do when he took the tattooed beef into his bedroom. As a parent, I knew I

should do something like set some ground rules, but I had no idea how. I spent that night

searching the internet and reading books. By morning, I sat Matt down in the kitchen and we

made a written contract. I was surprised how easy it was. I thought Matt would throw a fit

over not being allowed to have a guy in his room, maybe even run away. He did, after all,

have a very impressive runaway record from before he moved in with me. Matt took it like a

man. I, however, had to swallow down the uneasy feeling as the boy sent me little smirks all

through our talk. To this day I still have no idea what was going through his mind.

At seventeen, Matt freaked out when I brought home a prominent boyfriend for

myself. I figured social services wouldn’t remove Matt since there was less than a year left of

his childhood. Turned out that social services was not the problem. Matt yelled and cussed

and threatened to leave if I didn’t get rid of the old fart. The old fart was twenty-nine–only

five years older than me. I argued back but ended up sending the guy packing. Instead, I

snuck out during the day when Matt was at school to find myself a lay. But every time the guy

wanted to get serious I had to end it, because whenever I talked to Matt about having a second

dad in the house, he flipped.

Now, Matt at eighteen, I walk into the house and hear him howl in pain. I finish

kicking off my shoes, throw away my jacket, and bust down his locked door. There I find him

sitting on his bed with a blue erection, and a cock ring around the base.

“What the hell?”

“Get it off!” Matt shouts.

“God damn it, Matt. How the hell did you get that on in the first place? It’s designed

for my size, not yours.”

Matt is no longer that scrawny, half-my-size kid, who quietly watched my every move

doe-eyed for months after he moved in. Now, he’s buff like a gorilla with arm muscles as

thick as my thighs. What’s more, his skin is tanned from playing sports outside in the Florida

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sun, which he usually does topless to impress the boys on his team. He still has his shaggy,

black hair and big brown eyes, but the kid is manlier than I will ever be.

“What were you doing going through my stuff anyway?” I keep that drawer locked for

a reason, you know? Do I go through your stuff?”

“Uh, yeah, like every time you clean my room,” says my kid-in-a-man’s-body of a

foster son.

“You’re eighteen now. You should start cleaning your own room.”

“No way! Look, just get it off. It hurts.”

I run into the bathroom to fetch a wet washcloth and a bar of soap. After a lot of

rubbing, which only seems to make his huge cock grow stiffer, I manage to pull the darned

metal ring off. Thank goodness he didn’t take the one that goes around the scrotum.

“Oh, man. Finally,” he says.

The springs in his bed squeak when he flops down on his broad back with a long

groan.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter, hiding my own erection from him the best I can. God,

I’ve never touched his tools before. I need to go out, and get laid. It’s been way too long.

I sit on his bed and glance at his body. The uncomfortable heat in the pit of my

stomach returns, the one I’ve been getting lately whenever I think about Matt. It’s wrong. So,

so wrong. I’ve raised him for four years, and I’d probably go to jail for foster incest or

something if people knew what kind of images were running through my head. But it wasn't

like I had been thinking about him this way from the start, and with only seven years between

us, I was more like a big brother. He doesn’t even call me dad that often.

A couple weeks ago, two months after his birthday, I walked in on him jerking off in

the shower. I couldn’t look away. It only hit me then how gorgeous he was. Strong and

determined. The drops of water ricocheted off his muscles as he pumped his erection with

low, manly grunts at every stroke. After he finished, I quietly closed the door and sat down in

the living room, berating myself for having such a reaction to him. When he walked out

wearing only a small towel around his hips and didn’t get dressed until I specifically told him

to, it was nothing unusual. He often walks around half-naked. It never felt sexual to me before

because I never associated Matt with sex but seeing what he was doing in the shower…

It’s not just lust though. I can’t imagine my life without Matt. I sort of thought we’d

always be together, that I’d take care of him forever. When I think about him finding a

boyfriend and moving out, it brings me to tears and sometimes I spend my nights agonizing

over it.

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“Are you just gonna sit there and stare, or are you gonna suck me off?” Matt lifts

himself up on his elbows, his impressive length proudly piercing the air like a church tower.

I tear my gaze away and give myself a mental shake. Did he really say that, or was it a

trick of the mind?

“Why would you even think I’d do something like that?”

“Because I know you saw me in the shower, and you’ve been looking at me funny

ever since.”

“That’s just because I’m embarrassed.”

“Whatever,” the man-child says and slouches up into a sitting position. “I want you,”

he continues in his deep, toe-curling voice.

I swallow back a big gulp of saliva and try not to look at his pointed cock, but it’s

hard. It’s like a magnet, and my eyes keep straying off to find it.

“You call me dad, for fuck’s sake.”

“I only do it because I thought you’d find it kinky.”

“What the hell? You were fifteen when you started calling me that.”

“Yeah? Well, I was thinking dirty things about you way younger.”

“Okay,” I say and put a hand between us, edging away. “That’s just wrong.”

“For you maybe, but it’s only natural for a kid to have fantasies about his daddy,

right?”

“Oh my God, you did not just say that. That’s gross.”

“Spank me?” He wiggles his bushy eyebrows.

“Matt!” I scold with a dignified tone.

“Oh, come on. You’re hot for guys, and I know I’m good enough looking for you. I

look way better than any of those old dudes you try to bring home.”

He’s referring to all the guys I’ve been trying to sneak into my bedroom ever since I

started having those funny feelings about Matt. Needless to say, Matt rebuffed every attempt

and sent the guys packing before they got so much as a shoe off.

I edge away a little further as Matt moves closer. The fiery look in his eyes is like one

of those ultraviolet lights that kills mosquitoes. Oh yes, I feel like a dirty, dirty little mosquito

whenever I’m around Matt these days.

“Look, we can’t have this discussion. You’re my son –”

“Foster son, who’s of consenting age now,” he interrupts. The smug look on his face

is enough to flip on my switch of irritation.

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“You’re still in high school, and I can’t just go and jump in bed with you, but that’s

not the main issue here, alright? You went through my stuff again, and that’s gonna stop.”

“Oh really?” he answers with a smirk.

A low growl vibrates in my throat before I continue. “You could have gotten seriously

hurt just now, do you realize that?”

He doesn’t answer, but it’s not out of shame. He keeps his eyes steady on me, burning

with something so deep that it’s hard to look away.

“A-anyway,” I continue, adjusting myself a smidge to hide the erection better, but he

catches the movement with his eyes. “You’re not supposed to play with stuff like this if you

don’t know how it works, okay?” I wave the soapy cock ring in his face.

“Then teach me.” He grabs the ring from my fingers and throws it over his shoulder.

“You’re supposed to teach me about life, right? Teach me how to use this stuff, how to be

safe, and what a right touch feels like so that I’ll know if I’m being touched wrong. Teach me

everything you know about sex. There’s no one else I trust better to teach me these things, and

you have to because you’re supposed to prepare me before I go out into the big, ugly world.”

My eyes widen at his request. God, what he’s saying is that he wants to experiment

with me, before he goes out into the world to make a life of his own…without me. The sharp

piercing in my chest is so powerful it’s almost overbearing. I ball up my fingers so that he

doesn’t see how badly my hands tremble.

“Hey,” he says in a softer voice, raising my chin to meet my eyes. “What are you

thinking?”

“N-nothing,” I say in a weak voice and swallow back the lump in my throat.

“Patrick,” he whispers only an inch from my lips.

I have it too bad for him. I’ve always had it bad for him, only before it was out of a

different kind of love. One thing remains the same: I’m still afraid he’ll run away.

“Don’t leave me, please,” rolls off my lips before I can stop it.

I blink a few times and watch his sensual lips curve into a warm smile before he closes

the distance and brings me into the most passionate kiss of my life. His hot, slippery tongue

swirls in my mouth, lips massaging firmly and gently at the same time. His fingers trace my

face and weave into my hair as his kiss deepens. It feels so good it makes my teeth ache.

“I had been spying on you for a few weeks before you took me in,” says Matt when he

breaks away to run a trail of wet kisses down my neck. “You brought home guys that left

early in the morning. I saw the sad, lonely look in your eyes whenever you stood in the

doorway and watched them leave.”

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My breath rattles as he unbuttons my shirt and runs his palm over my hairless chest.

His big lips press against my small bicep in long, drawn-out kisses before he looks up at me

for a second. “I vowed right there that I’d be the one to stay and make you happy for the rest

of your life.”

I swallow down my tears and let out a shaky sigh as his head ducks down. With a

whimper, I throw my head back when he sucks in my nipple and bites on it hard.

“You were just a kid,” I say in a low voice, forcing back a second whimper.

“I know,” Matt whispers, sending shivers down my body with his hot breath. “But I’ve

loved you for four years, Patrick. Never as my father but as my lover. Now it’s time for you to

love me back the same way.”

My hand shivers badly when I reach out to touch his lips. He parts them and wraps his

tongue around my index finger, sucking it in with a low groan.

Maybe he’s a little more mature than I give him credit for. He’s much younger than

my usual type, but God I don’t ever want him to leave. I may have taken care of him for four

years, but he’s been there for me, too. He comforts me whenever I’m down, he goes out of his

way to celebrate my birthdays, he challenges me to face my anxieties, and he stays at home

most nights to keep me company. He’s the only family I’ve got and I realize now that I’ve

needed him as much as he’s needed me. Probably even more.

He releases my finger and claims my tongue instead. We kiss, suck, and nibble on

each other while he pulls off my belt and unbuttons my pants in slow, sensual movements. I

help him get my pants off by lifting myself up, and end up naked in his arms when I mean to

sit back down on my spot. The feel of his hot flesh under mine has me moaning into his kiss

while his broad palms stroke over every inch of my skin.

“I top,” I say in a breathy voice when he pushes me down on the bed. There’s no way

that cock of his can fit inside my body.

Matt’s lips curl into a smile on his handsome face. “No way. You’re a bottom.”

How the hell does he know that? But I don’t argue. I’ll do whatever he wants. I always

do.

He rolls me onto my stomach and from his drawer he digs out a bottle of lube I

recognize as mine. He squirts a generous amount in his palm and rubs it on his big cock.

“Condom!” I yelp as he nudges the tip to my entrance. I’m so aroused, I’m already

pushing my hips backward to meet him.

“We don’t need one.”

“Yes, we do.”

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“I saw your latest test results in the bottom desk drawer yesterday, and I’ve never had

sex, so…”

He’s never had sex? It’s definitely not out of lack of confidence.

I yell out when he forces his way inside.

“You’re supposed to prep me first, you idiot!”

“Oops. See, you’re supposed to tell me these things,” he says with a devious smile in

his voice. “But don’t think I don’t know what you put in here every night. Your ass is no

virgin or too tight from lack of use.”

With my head pressed to his pillow, I blush an embarrassing shade of crimson. It

screams at me from the rectangular mirror on his wall. I see Matt’s hot body curved over my

small frame. He has an amused smile on his face, but the look in his eyes is so loving, my

nose prickles with the threat of tears. I’m his first. I can’t explain how relieved I am to hear

that.

With surprising gentleness, he inches his cock further in, pulling out a little before

each push. I close my eyes to savor the feeling of having him inside me. I lift my hips up in

the air to meet him as he begins to rock me on the bed with his strong, decisive thrusts. His

meaty arms encircle my waist and chest for better leverage. His grunts ring in my ears until I

can no longer hear them from my own moaning and loud cries. He pounds me hard, hitting

my point of pleasure every time. My breaths for air come out in gasps and labored panting. He

works me hard and builds me up so high that I end up spurting out white splatters on his blue

sheets through penetration alone. That’s a first for me. His semen up my tunnel is another

first, but I like it.

“Ahhhh, that was perfect,” he whispers as he rolls us to our sides, probably so his

larger bulk won’t squish mine.

I whimper back, still reveling in that floating after-sex feeling.

He hugs me close and plants a kiss between my shoulder blades. “Can we turn this

room into an exercise room?”

“This is your room,” I say in a yawn, feeling so completely relaxed that I want nothing

more than to fall asleep.

“I’m moving into yours.”

I release an exasperated sigh, but smile and burrow myself closer to his body. It seems

I’ll always be in his pocket, but at least I’m his.

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Titles by Erica Pike

The Boston Boys Series:

A Life Without You

Absolutely Eric

Black Hurricane

The College Fun and Gays Series:

Hot Hands

Grade-A-Sex Deal

The Walls Have Ears

Little Stalker

Welcome brother

Cold Hands

The Castor Spring Series (Free):

Half-Baked Promises

Midnight Muffins

Other (Free):

In His Pocket

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Author bio

Erica lives in Iceland with her adorable little twin boys. She often says that her real

name sounds like Klingon to foreigners. Seriously, if “Eyjafjallajokull” looks like a string of

random letters, it’s nothing in comparison to Erica’s real name.

She’s been writing for several years, or ever since reading became an obsession. Aside

from a business degree, Erica has taken English courses at the University of Iceland and

gulped down anything that might help her in her career as an author. She takes great interest

in English, but will break every single grammar rule for the sake of The Voice.

Erica loves hearing from her readers. She’s a friendly, easy-going (if a bit silly) person

who doesn’t mind talking about herself in third person.

You can find her at

http://www.ericapike.com