Used and Bruised by Daddy and Dean
I Was the Secret They Couldn't Keep Their Hands Off.
It always started the same way. A look. A glance that lingered just a second too long.
Dean was over again—fourth time this month. I pretended not to notice at first, but I always did. I noticed the way his eyes crawled over me when I came down the stairs shirtless. The way Travis, my stepdad, went quiet when I bent over in front of him.
They never touched me when I was growing up. They waited. Waited until I turned twenty, waited until I came back from college—bigger, broader, hungrier.
I thought I was imagining it that first night. But the second time Dean came over, and Travis said "Why don’t you wear some damn clothes around here?" while never once looking away from my bare chest, I knew.
They were watching. Plotting.
That night, I gave them a show.
After my shower, I walked into the kitchen with just a towel hugging my hips, steam still clinging to my skin. Dean looked up from his beer. His eyes flicked down my body and stayed there.
“You always this proud of your body?” he asked, voice low, half amusement, half threat.
“I don’t hear you telling me to cover up,” I shot back.
He smirked. Travis didn’t say a word, just stood behind me, close enough I could feel the heat coming off his body. His hand landed heavy on my shoulder.
“Boy’s got a mouth on him,” Travis muttered. “Maybe he wants it filled.”
Dean laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was dark. Dangerous.
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
That was the moment everything changed.
We were on the couch an hour later. Game was on, but no one was watching. I sat between them, body buzzing. Travis’s palm rested on my thigh. He didn’t move it. Just let it sit there, warm and heavy, fingers brushing higher every few minutes. Dean had his arm draped across the back of the couch behind me, fingertips grazing my neck.
“You ever been with a man before, Levi?” Dean asked, casual, like he was asking about the weather.
I nodded slowly. “Once. Not like this though.”
Travis leaned in. “Like what?”
I turned my head toward him. “Like being used.”
Travis and Dean looked at each other. Something passed between them. Approval, maybe. Agreement.
Then Travis gripped my jaw and kissed me—rough, hard, like he was angry I’d made him wait this long. His stubble scraped my face raw, and his tongue shoved past my lips like it owned me. I moaned into his mouth, already leaking in my shorts.