Chapter 4: Morning Rites at the Lagoon

Dawn came slow and gold through the sheer curtains, and Eric drifted in that liminal space between sleep and waking—until a wet warmth closed around the head of his cock.

His eyes flew open.

Keith knelt between his legs on the rumpled bed, dark hair falling across his forehead, green eyes fixed on Eric’s face. His mouth worked slowly and deliberately, tongue flat along the underside, lips sealed tight around the shaft. Morning breath and salt and skin—Eric’s hips twitched before his brain caught up.

“Keith—”

A wet pop as Keith pulled off, a string of saliva stretching from his lip to the glistening head. “You were hard in your sleep. I figured I’d help.”

Across the room, Tina stirred on the chaise, stretching like a cat. Her breasts pressed into the cushion, nipples pebbling in the cool air. She watched them with half-lidded eyes, one hand sliding lazily between her thighs.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she murmured.

Keith grinned and swallowed Eric down again—deep, deeper, until his nose pressed into the dark tangle at the base. Eric’s hands found his son’s hair, not pushing, just holding. The suction was exquisite, the drag of tongue and throat a slow, pulsing rhythm that coiled heat low in his gut.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he rasped.

Keith hummed around him, the vibration rippling up Eric’s spine. One hand cupped his father’s balls, rolling them gently, while the other stroked the shaft in time with his mouth. Eric’s thighs trembled. The pleasure built—steady, relentless—

Then Keith pulled off again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not yet. I want to save that for later.”

Tina rose from the chaise, naked and glowing in the morning light, her dark hair a wild tangle. Her skin smelled of salt and the faint musk of last night’s sex. She walked to the bed and took Eric’s hand.

“Come on,” she said. “The tub’s big enough for three.”

The bathroom was all white marble and soft light, steam already curling from the sunken tub. The water was hot enough to pink their skin, and the jets churned it into a froth of bubbles that smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

Tina stepped in first, sinking to her shoulders with a satisfied sigh. Her breasts floated, buoyant and heavy, the nipples gone tight from the heat. She crooked a finger at them.