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I'll be your new wife	By : Katv Category: Digimon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2620 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or any of the characters within. I make no money on this work.

Chapter List
- 1-The Promise
- 2-Anniversary
- 1
- 2
Malcolm was certain this all started when Matt was six. He was setting Matt in the van, getting him settled for the long ride to their new apartment, when the child reached out and took his hand. Malcolm looked up, trying not to show that he was crying, that he already missed his wife and younger son, and Matt smiled at him. He had been missing his front tooth, and his tiny grin had been absolutely adorable.
“Don't worry, Daddy,” he'd said softly, reaching up to wipe his father's tears away like Nancy had always done for him. “I'll be your wife, and I'll love you forever.”
Malcolm had just hugged him tight, holding close the last remaining family he had, the only one he hadn't driven away with his workaholic nature.
Maybe if he'd said something then, told Matt that he was too young to be a wife, or even that he was the wrong gender, he could have avoided all this.
It was hard to notice at first, because Matt had always kept to himself. Because he was still too busy with work to be a real father. What tipped him off, though, was when his underwear started going missing.
Whenever he came home, late at night, practically early in the morning, he sat at the plastic fold out table he'd never upgraded and ate the covered meal his son was always set aside for him. He looked at the empty chair, feeling more alone than ever before. He washed his plate and cracked his son's door open, watching the blonde teen sleep. Even if they barely interacted anymore, he always made sure Matt slept well.
After a moment, he dragged himself to his bed, collapsing on the squeaky mattress and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. He wasn't supposed to smoke in the apartment, but everyone did, the scent already ingrained in the paint before he moved in. Usually the cancer stick was enough to lull him to sleep, but there were some nights where that just wouldn't do.
Like tonight.
The station had just hired a new secretary, a young perky thing fresh out of college by the name of Rika or Ruki or something like that. Her breasts were too large for her shirt, her waist tapering to an ample rear that was barely covered by a miniskirt. Her sparkling eyes were darkened with shadow, lips bright as they curved into seductive smiles. Her touch lingered on his arm for a moment too long, her smile a bit too wicked, her attention a bit too intense.
He stamped out his cigarette on the ashtray on his bedside table, relaxing back into worn sheets with a weary sigh. He tossed off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and kicked off his slacks. Normally he would be able to pass out, to sleep until the next twelve hour shift, but the thought of Rika (Ruki?) plagued his mind and he knew he'd never sleep with her body dancing behind his eyelids.
He rand a hand over the front of his boxers, groaning at the hardness that had been there all day. He let his head fall back onto his pillow, rubbing up and down, teasing the waiting ache. He always kept lube by his bed, buried under empty cartons and packs, in the off chance that he did find someone willing to bed an old divorcee.
Cold gel warmed quickly as he pulled himself free, biting back an eager groan and kicking his underwear off. The walls of his apartment were thin, and he sure as hell didn't want to wake his son. Not with something like this. He closed his eyes and thought of Ruki or Rika (maybe it was Rochelle? None of that seemed right, though...). He would kiss away her lipstick, smear her makeup as she pushed her lower. Her breasts would bounce up and down on him, her tongue would follow his thumb as he swiped over the head of his cock, smearing his cum with the lubricant.
He groaned what could have been her name, pace quickening, hips jerking. He rubbed lower, grabbing his balls eagerly, imagining it was Rochelle as she rode him, screaming his name. He was grunting, gasping, moving his hand faster, eagerly stroking. He reached out with his other hand, grasping blindly until he found his old boxers. He bit his lip, a muffled groan escaping as he released onto his underwear. He stroked the last of his seed from his body, flopping back onto his mattress tiredly. He tossed his underwear to the floor, threw the sheet over his body and quickly fell asleep.
The next day proceeded as usual, though Matt seemed more tired than usual as he vacuumed the hallway. Malcolm always thought it was adorable how hard Matt worked to be the housewife he'd promised to be when he was six, so it wasn't unusual for his son to grab the dirty laundry that littered Malcolm's floor. He hugged his son, placing an awkward kiss on his forehead as he walked out the door.
It was a little easier today to talk to Reini (her name now etched into his brain for later), her make up no longer as bright, her perfume no longer as strong. Even his boss seemed in a brighter mood, and Malcolm quickly found himself clocking out, not just on time, but early even.
So with his jacket draped over his arm, a whistle on his lips, he walked from the elevator to his apartment door. Being home so early, surely he would be able to spend time with his son. Maybe they could go out to dinner, catch up on the last ten years he'd missed out on.
The door was unlocked, which was unusual. They weren't in a bad neighborhood, but it wasn't the safest building either.
“Matt?' he called, stepping inside. Their TV was still there, but that didn't mean anything. The last time they'd been broken into, a note had been left, saying, “Your stuff sucks. I can't get anything for it. Get a better job, loser.”
There was no response, and he was getting worried. He dropped his jacket and almost forgot to take off his shoes. “Matt?”
The blonde wasn't in his room, his guitar sitting untouched. Malcolm bit his lip. He went to call for his son again, ready to grab his phone and call the police, when he hear an odd noise from down the hall. He looked over, seeing his bedroom door was cracked just an inch. But that was normal – the damn thing never shut right. Another noise, a strangled whimper, drove him closer, and Malcolm stepped up to his door, peeking in.
Matt was in his bed, naked, legs tangled in the smokey sheets. He had one hand digging into a pillow and the other was furiously stroking his length, a splash of white across his stomach revealing he'd been there a while. Malcolm felt his voice catch in his throat. Surely his son was just finding a comfortable place to have some time to himself (nevermind that Malcolm spent his whole bonus buying Matt a new bed set, promising to get himself a new one eventually)? Obviously this was just some weird, disturbing rush, wasn't it?
The young blonde tossed his head back, gasping eagerly a word that could have been, “Dad...”
There was no way Malcolm had become aroused. The sudden throbbing heat between his legs had absolutely nothing to do with the way Matt arched his back and whined. He could easily look away as his son reached out, and there was no tingle of pleasure running down his spine when he saw Matt, beautiful Matt, grab the used boxers from the night before. He definitely wasn't reaching down, beginning to rub himself, as he watched Matt lick them, eagerly finding the mess left behind.
Matt gave an excited groan, pulling faster as he buried his nose in the underwear. Malcolm bit his lip harshly, pulling away suddenly as Matt stilled, another wave of white stickiness splashing his hips, mixing with what was still on his stomach.
Certainly, Matt would be embarrassed if he was caught, he wouldn't want to be seen like this. But Malcolm couldn't stop stop himself from opening the door, demanding of his son, of himself, “What is happening here?”
Matt gasped, trying to sit up with a jerk, but he was too tired to move. He could barely reach up to remove the underwear from his face, cheeks burning bright.
“D-Dad?!”
Damn that word and how it suddenly turned on him, exciting him further.
“Matt, why are you --?” He couldn't bring himself to say it. “In my bed...”
Matt looked away and Malcolm could see the tears building in those beautiful blue eyes.
“Dad, I...” He sniffled and Malcolm felt his anger melt. He stepped over, reaching out automatically to place a reassuring hand on his child's head. Matt reached out, wrapping his arms around his father's waist, the scent of sex surrounding him, the feel of an aching arousal pressed against his cheek. He nuzzled, hearing Malcolm gasp, and he whispered, “I told you, I'll be your wife. I'll do all those wonderful things a woman is supposed to do for her husband.”
Malcolm suddenly regretted his decision to comfort as Matt reached up, unzipping his pants. He tried to step back, but Matt quickly pulled him out, licking his lips at the sight of the stiffness, dripping in front of him.
Malcolm groaned at the wet heat that surrounded him suddenly, Matt's arms reaching out to circle his waist. A hot tongue lapped at the underside of his cock, a sensitive place that he was now certain Matt had found out about through spying. He reached down, meaning to push Matt away, but found himself entangling his fingers in that mass of spiked hair, pulling him closer.
His son's throat was soft and Matt barely gagged as Malcolm pushed inside. Nancy had always had a natural talent for this, though she told him often how demeaning she found it. Matt seemed to have no problems at all. His moans were muffled, nothing less than eager as he sucked and swallowed, eagerly reaching up to play with everything that dangled in front of him. Malcolm groaned, forgetting for a moment about the thin walls.
“This is wrong,” he hissed even as he thrust deeper. One young hand was on his thigh, the other squeezing gently, teasing him into a frenzy. “For God's sake, you're my son.”
As aroused as he was, it didn't take long for him to stiffen, to pull Matt closer and fill the back of his throat with a need he'd never wanted. Matt pulled away with a gasp, coughing and swallowing as much seed as he could.
“But I can be so much more,” he said quietly after a moment as Malcolm sat heavily on the bed. He wrapped his arms around his father's chest, breathing in the scent of smoke that he'd come to love so. “I told you, Dad, I'll be your wife, and I'll love you forever.”
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I'll be your new wife