**Chapter 1: The Practice Date**
The dim lighting of La Bella Cucina cast a sultry glow over the intimate corner table where Marcus, a ruggedly handsome man in his late forties, sat across from his trans son, Riley. Marcus’s salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, his broad shoulders filling out a crisp navy blazer. Riley, a confident young man with a chiseled jaw and a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, leaned back in his chair, exuding a raw, masculine energy. His tight black shirt hugged his toned frame, a subtle reminder of the hours spent at the gym. This wasn’t just dinner—it was a game, a test, a dangerous flirtation neither had anticipated.
“Alright, Dad, let’s do this right,” Riley said, his voice low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips. “Pretend I’m some hot stranger you’re trying to impress. Lay it on thick. Don’t hold back.”
Marcus chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before a playful resolve settled in. “Fine, kiddo. But don’t laugh if I crash and burn. It’s been… hell, over a decade since I’ve done this.”
Riley raised an eyebrow, sipping his wine with a deliberate slowness that made Marcus’s gaze linger on his lips. “Crash and burn? With me as your date? Not a chance. Now, hit me with your best line.”
Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “You’ve got a smile that could light up a room, you know that? I couldn’t take my eyes off you the moment I walked in.”
Riley’s grin widened, but there was a heat behind it now, a spark that hadn’t been there before. “Smooth, old man. Keep going. Tell me what else you like.”
Marcus hesitated, then let his eyes roam over Riley, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shirt clung to his chest. “I like how you carry yourself. Confident. Strong. Makes a man wonder what’s underneath all that swagger.”
The air between them crackled, charged with something forbidden, something neither dared name yet. Riley’s foot brushed against Marcus’s under the table, a deliberate graze that sent a jolt through both of them. “Careful, Dad,” Riley purred, his tone dripping with challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game. What if I start believing you mean it?”
Marcus’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, his hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing Riley’s knuckles, lingering longer than necessary. “Maybe I do mean it,” he said, his voice rough, almost a growl. “Maybe I’ve forgotten how to separate the game from the real thing.”
Riley’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something hungrier. “Then don’t. Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of sharp banter and loaded glances, each compliment and touch more daring than the last. By the time Marcus paid the bill, his hand rested on the small of Riley’s back as they left the restaurant, the contact burning through fabric, a silent promise of more. “Come up for a glass of whisky,” Marcus said, his voice thick with unspoken desire. “As a thank you. For… helping me out tonight.”
Riley’s laugh was low, wicked. “A thank you, huh? Sure, Dad. Let’s see how grateful you really are.”
Upstairs in Marcus’s dimly lit apartment, the tension snapped like a taut wire. Whisky glasses clinked, but neither drank much, too focused on the heat building between them. Riley stood close, too close, his breath warm against Marcus’s ear as he whispered, “You’ve got me all worked up with that charm of yours. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Marcus turned, his eyes blazing, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed Riley by the collar and crushed their lips together. The kiss was raw, desperate, a collision of need and taboo. Riley groaned into it, his hands gripping Marcus’s hips, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Dad,” he gasped, breaking away just enough to speak, his voice dripping with lust. “You’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
Marcus’s hands roamed down Riley’s back, gripping his firm ass through his jeans, his own cock already straining against his pants, hard and aching. “This is wrong,” he muttered, even as he kissed down Riley’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin. “So fucking wrong.”
“Wrong feels too damn good,” Riley shot back, his fingers digging into Marcus’s shoulders. “I’m so fucking horny for you. Feel how wet I am already.” He guided Marcus’s hand down to the front of his jeans, pressing it against the heat of his pussy, dripping with need through the fabric.
Marcus groaned, his control shattering as he felt the dampness, his fingers itching to dive deeper. “Jesus, Riley,” he panted, sweating already, his voice a raw rasp. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Riley’s grin was feral as he pushed Marcus back toward the couch, straddling him with a confidence that made Marcus’s head spin. “Not yet, old man. First, I’m gonna ride you until you forget every damn rule we’re breaking.”
Their clothes were already half-off, hands frantic, breaths heavy, the room thick with the scent of lust and forbidden desire. Marcus’s cock throbbed, desperate for release, as Riley’s fingers teased lower, promising an explosion neither could resist.
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