God is Never in France This Time of Year

They were a family ones more. A father, a mother and a son. A perfect family.

Now that Mondego was dead, they could finally be a real family.

His fortune and power was vast and thus he could offer his family anything they wished, but only if they gave him what he yearned for…a family.

Edmond watched as his son suckled his wife’s breast. Watched the way she so soothingly stroked his son’s hair. No milk escaped her breast, nor was his son an infant, but he needed his family to be a family.

A slight smile graced his lips as he saw his son look at him. The boys cheeks were flushed, his eyes teary, but he did not stop. He walked over to the bed that they lay in and put a hand on his son’s cheek, caressing it, loving the feel of the softness of it.

“Stop.” He whispered gently to his son. His son removed his lips from her breast, his trembling lips. How such a brave boy could become so meek in front of him? It is to be expected, he supposed, considering he was a hero to the boy even before he knew that he was his father.

He glanced down at his wife. She looked just as she had the 16 years before, beautiful. Her naked form draped over the bed. He had the urge to beat her…beat her till she could no longer stand, her betrayal still wounded him. He refrained, it would upset his boy. And he needed to take care of his little boy.

His son bit his lip, a tear escaped. “Father please…” He pleaded. Oh he was such an innocent.

“Albert, if you don’t behave this instant, I will take you over my knee.” He chided. But, oh, how he wished his boy would misbehave. It was so much fun to have him over his knee, like the day before.

The look of alarm that crossed his face was stunning, “I’m sorry. I’ll behave.” He admonished quickly. To show that he was truly sorry he kissed his father’s cheek. His lips lingering. He coiled his arms around his father’s neck and buried his face in his neck.

“You will.” Edmond replied, although his voice sounded too rough to his own ears. He placed slow kisses on his son’s head and looked at his wife. “Darling, go to sleep.” His wife rose from the bed, put on her robe and quickly left. His son still did not lift his head from his neck.

“Albert look at me.” He insisted.

Albert raised his head, his face streaked with dried tears. He looked at his father’s face. Edmond’s face was beautiful, Albert knew that from the first moment he had seen him, but it was also dark, with terrible tales etched into it.

“Come, lay with me for a while, I’m terribly tired.”

Edmond lay down, dressed in rich fabrics. Albert looked at him for a moment, then crawled after him and lay beside him. He put one leg of his father’s and one arm around his neck. Edmond gently stroked his son hair, loving the way his curls would wind around his fingers. He turned his face to his sons and caught his breath. It always amazed him, knowing that he created this beautiful creature.

“Do you love me?” Edmond asked his son.

His son looked at him shyly, “I do.” He averted his eyes, and his cheeks flushed once more.

“More than your mother does?” He asked this teasingly.

“Yes.” Albert answered with conviction. No one loved his father the way he did.

His father closed his eyes and sighed. Albert watched as his face showed his happiness. Feeling the urge, Albert leaned in and placed a kiss on his father’s lips.

Edmond jerked back, a shocked expression on his face, “Albert, that was very bad.” He muttered.

His eyes darkened. “You do not kiss your father like that.” He finally said and rolled his son onto his back.

Edmond pinned his son’s arms above his head and leaned toward his face, “That was very, very bad of you.” He murmured again.

“I’m sorry Father.” Albert gasped. He could feel his father’s breath on his lips and his father’s body covering his own, making his trousers tighten.

Edmond felt the rigidness on his thigh. “I don’t believe that you are.” He moved one of his hands down his sons chest, down his stomach and rested it over the bulge. “What is this Albert?” He asked, his voice smooth…coaxing. His son looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

Edmond waited, but Albert said nothing.

Finally Edmond removed his hands, got off his son and began to take off his lavish clothes. His son watched avidly not moving from his position on the bed. When his father was left with nothing but the scars on his back, he returned to his son and proceeded to take off all of his son’s clothes.

He took off one layer after another, slowly and gently, stroking exposed skin here and there. When Albert was as bare as his father, Edmond moved down the bed to the covers that rested there and pulled them up over himself and Albert. He took his son into his arms yet again.

Nestled in his fathers arms, Albert waited for his persisting erection to leave, but it would not go away. Ever so slowly he moved against his father, Edmond remained still. Albert looked at his face and saw that he was asleep. He rocked against him again, yet his father did not move. He itched his face close to his father’s, and kissed his chin…neck…and even lower still, his chest.

He snaked his hand down his own body, grasping his erection. He stroked slowly, made no sound and continued to place small kisses on his father’s glorious form.

Slow strokes turned to faster, harsher strokes that he was sure would make him raw later on. His breathing hitched and small noises escaped. When he climaxed he bit is lip to stop the low moan that was about to escape. White, warm cum sprayed over his father’s thighs and stomach.

When he was done, Albert peaked under the cover to see what kind of a mess he made only to encounter his father’s much larger erection.

Startled he looked up only to see his father looking at him with open eyes and a lazy smirk.

“Very, very bad.”