Eastenders is the property of the BBC. I claim no rights and am making nothing off of this story. This is a work of fiction and has nothing to do with the actors in the roles. Don't take anything in this as in any way resembling real life. Read only if you're 18 or older.
Thank you for all your feedback and suggestions, which I'll do my best to work into the chapters. Sorry for the delay between chapters.
This chapter was a request from a reader, and it takes place earlier in the Carter family story - when Johnny came out. It won't match up to the other chapters I've written. The next chapter will more heavily focus on Lee's role with the Carters. These chapters heavily involve the Carters, so if you don't want to read that this is your chance to know. There are also a few surprise Eastenders studs from around the time the Carters first arrived.
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Mick had never been the brightest bloke, but he was glad he'd had the foresight to get Nancy to take Linda and Shirl out for a long lunch. He'd heard his wife and sister scrapping all the way out the doors of the boozer they now called home, but he knew it was second nature to them.
He also knew it wasn't second nature to Johnny, his youngest, now crying on his chest in a way he hadn't in many years. Johnny was 19 years old now, clearly a man in age, build and confidence, but the baby face and the softness he could never shake made him a target. Both for his mum and sister - even if they loved the bones of him - and the world at large.
Mick didn't care that Johnny had just come out to him, had just admitted to kissing sleazy, any-hole's-a-goal property developer Danny Pennant. With the arse packed into Danny's snug suit trousers, Mick would probably take a crack (no pun intended) if he wasn't such a devoted husband.
Mick only cared that his son was a prime candidate to be used up and spat out by the scum of the world. Not because they were men - scum's just scum - although Mick, being a fella, was even more concerned because he heard and saw things fellas did that no women would ever know - but because he had a big, soft heart, one that couldn't be hidden under the sarcy cracks he'd built up from growing up in such a noisy family.
Johnny had stopped crying now, but his head was still on Mick's chest, his hand on Mick's belly. He lifted up enough to stare into Mick's soft brown eyes.
"Thanks, Dad. I love you."
Mick blushed, tears in his eyes, because as much as he tried to be the sensitive sort with his family, he still wasn't used to such open emotions. Linda frowned on them.
"Let's have a few cans," he suggested, mussing Johnny's slightly too-long dark blonde hair, kissing his forehead.
He noticed a slight look on Johnny's face after the kiss...surprise, maybe, but something else.
Johnny suddenly moved away from him, blushing.
"Back in a sec...mind your kecks," Mick warned, jokingly, noticing Johnny didn't bother to fire back.
As Mick left to go to the kitchen, Mick was sure his son's guilty eyes were on his bum. He almost asked, but didn't want to hear the answer.
Mick took a beer out, downing it in a few short gulps. A second soon followed. He was partway through a third when he realized he might need to slow down.
He couldn't stop thinking about his son's reaction to the kiss and the way his son watched him.
It wasn't anything new, as his fat packet had been a sight for sore eyes - occasionally sore arses - since he was Johnny's age at least. Deep down Mick even knew it wasn't the first time Johnny had stared, remembering the times his son had watched him leave or walk into a room, eyed up Mick's legs in his pink dressing gown, or simpered a bit when Mick lifted his shirt and showed off his hairy belly. He'd guessed before this, just decided not to think about it much.
It was different now because now Mick knew he wasn't wrong, it wasn't just a lifetime of being perved on leading his mind to some forbidden place. His son, his angelic, cheeky son, fancied him.
It wasn't right. It couldn't be right.
Mick was upset, but more because he really wasn't even actually upset by it. He couldn't manage to find it in him. Johnny was a man now - his son, but also a man, a man who could have any bloke he wanted. And he wanted - whether he proper realized it or not - Mick.
If he wasn't upset, then he was...
If he thought about what he was right now he'd really be giving his son a show.
He downed his third beer and opened up a fourth, along with two for Johnny.
"Gotcha!" Mick shouted as he tossed the drink in Johnny's direction...not noticing until too late that Johnny was rubbing his jean-clad crotch with an open palm.
Johnny was too mortified to catch it, turning bright red at his mistake.
"Slippery digits," Mick teased, but he couldn't help noticing that Johnny's eyes were on the bulge packed into his tight black jeans...just as his own were on his son's half-hard mast.
Johnny blushed when he saw that Mick was watching. He rinsed the can off and opened it with a flourish, laughing when the beer splashed onto his blue-and-grey v-neck.
"Your muvva's gonna have me 'ead," Mick groused, striding over to clean Johnny's chest with the dishcloth. "She got ya that for yer birthday."
Johnny didn't reply, too busy looking at Mick with awestruck eyes as his father's surprisingly delicate fingers ran the cloth over his chest.
Mick couldn't help noticing how much more developed Johnny had become in the last year; he was used to oldest son Lee, now in the army, being the brawn of his kids.
"Letcha finish yerself off," Mick said, cringing as he realized how that sounded, trying not to notice Johnny's amused and aroused expression. His son's unwitting leer, again aimed right at his bulging crotch, made him turn to face the table, pressing his denimed horsemeat against the cool surface.
Wanting to change the subject, he stumbled onto the next topic.
"So - you ever tried it with a girl?"
Johnny took a minute to reply, taking a very long gulp of beer, hurt heavy in his defensive tone.
"Why?"
Mick wanted to tell him it was alright that he hadn't, but he couldn't be affectionate right now. He knew somewhere deep inside that it would go far beyond fatherly support.
"Cos' -" Mick started, still facing away from Johnny - "it's the first thing your mum's gonna let loose with once we tell 'er. You better have an answer."
Johnny looked like he was going to be sick, a stark reminder to Mick of just how innocent he still was under all the sarcy comments. He polished off his first can, gasping at the pungency - or maybe it was just his nerves.
"I-I don't wanna, so I don't."
Mick snorted, folding his hands over his belly.
"Guess that's the best ya got. Besta luck when you're up against me old dear - she'll spit out the arguments faster than our Tina downs a pint."
Johnny slumped his shoulders, leaning into the counter. When he looked at his father again, it was with needy grey eyes.
"I thought - I thought you could back me up. I thought you WOULD."
Mick's chest was tight at his son's pain, making him forget his fears and stumble to close the gap between them, tenderly rubbing Johnny's slender shoulders.
"Course I will. You're me boy - you're special just the way ya are. I know - I know it ain't just a matter of switchin' on and off."
Johnny smirked, opening another can and downing half in one go. His bright red face reminded Mick that his son wasn't much of a drinker...yet.
"So...did you ever try it with a lad?" Johnny grinned, clearly on the way to merriment to be brave enough to ask his dad that.
Mick's eyes widened at the question, a question he could easily lie about. Should, really.
If he'd been less buzzed, not helped by quickly downing his fourth and final can, he probably would have.
"Yeah," Mick said, before he could stop himself.
Johnny spat out the last of his beer, not even caring that he'd ruined his top all over again.
"Really?!?!"
Mick scratched the back of his neck.
"Yeah."
Johnny paused, speaking more quietly now.
"Does Mum know?"
Mick avoided his son's eyes, not wanting to see if they were full of desire or of shame.
"Nah...and she's not gonna."
Johnny threw his hands up in the air, standing up to pace the floor.
"I just - wow. Wow, Dad."
Johnny hurriedly walked downstairs. Mick nearly followed, panicked at what his youngest might say, until Johnny hurriedly returned, holding two small glasses.
"Ssshotts," Johnny needlessly told him, the slur in his tone making Mick think he'd had one or two before going back up.
Mick slammed the shots down, one then the other, bitter taste on his tongue as he roughly wiped his mouth with his flannel shirt sleeve.
"So ya...ya gonna tell me? Who it was? The fella? Who was it?"
Mick wished he could think telling Johnny had been a mistake, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. He was drunk enough now to where he couldn't even bring himself to lie properly.
"Me cousin."
Johnny's jaw dropped.
"FUCK!"
Mick leapt forward, clasping a hand over his son's mouth.
"Watch it, shoutbox."
He left his hand there as Johnny stared at him, whimpering slightly at the rough touch, at Mick's other hand firm at the back of his close-cropped neck.
Reluctantly he moved it away, watching Johnny lick his lips and look at him in a way most sons never would.
"Tell me, Dad."
Mick knew he shouldn't, but he was drunk and horny and...he needed this.
He made eyes for Johnny's bedroom, motioning his son inside.
It wasn't until they were actually standing in the small, barely unpacked room, door abruptly shut, that he realized what he was suggesting to his son...what he was suggesting to himself.
"First time I've ever been in 'ere," he muttered, smirking at the poster of some reality show babe with her tits half-hanging out that Johnny had put up on the wall to try to convince them he was straight. "Think ya can take that down now."
Johnny ripped the poster off, literally ripped it, tossing it in the bin. As he reached up Mick couldn't help staring at the peek of toned, smooth stomach under his top and white vest, at the way his arse filled his snug jeans.
Johnny turned around in time to see his father ogling his lean, fit body. Mick tried to seem embarrassed, but instead just tugged at his shaft through his jeans. There wasn't much point in pretending anymore.
"Talk," Johnny said, with a liquor-and-lust soaked voice.
Mick wasn't sure where to start, so he just sat down on the bed and stared at his hands, wishing he could will another can into them.
"We were 'bout...he was around Lee's age and I was near yours. Your mum had already given birth to Lee and Nance by then...felt like an old duffer. He came to stay with us - me and your mum and your gran. Linda wasn't exactly doin' somersaults, thought he was trouble. Thought he was givin' her the eye."
"Was he?"
Mick laughed.
"Nah. Not her. Me."
Johnny palmed his crotch, knowing Mick would see, before Mick continued the story.
"Agreed to take him for some drinks, give 'im a right quiz. We went to some bar...probably a carpark now. Noticed he didn't have a thing to say to the barmaid, no matter how many times she shoved 'er tits in his face. He was a proper looker - like one of those lads in that boy band you pretend you don't fancy rotten. The one you had the mobile screen of when he was standing on the balcony in his joggers."
Johnny smiled, blushing.
"I didn't think you saw that."
Johnny sat beside him on the bed, impossibly close. Mick knew he should move away, but he didn't. Instead, he continued his story.
"We had a few drinks...then a few more..."
Mick choked on his tongue, not sure how much further he wanted to go with this story. The back alley, how he barely got to ask his cousin who he fancied before the answer came with a soft hand squeezing his not-so-soft jeans bulge. How his cousin looked terrified of Mick's reaction, soft sad brown eyes and full quivering lips, turned into a sweet, hungry smile when he saw that Mick wasn't going to punch him out. He grabbed Mick then, Mick's first kiss with another bloke, his well-trimmed nails tickling the back of Mick's neck. Mick remembered thinking even with a stubbly bloke, the kiss wasn't that different from Linda, soft and sweet and nervous, because of the need, the want - the way Linda always needed him, the way everyone always needed him. Then he knew it was different from Linda when he was pushed against the wall and his jeans were unzipped, no barrier as his last pair of clean pants had been in the wash. Linda hated blow jobs, so this was new and good, better than anything he'd ever expected. Those pleading eyes looking at Mick as that warm mouth slowly took in well over half of his thick cock. It was his cousin, it was a bloke, it was - everything but wrong. He remembered his hands big and rough in his cousin's hair as the eager hands shoved his jeans down to his knees and the eager tongue began bathing his hairy bull balls.
Mick didn't have to finish the story, which ended with blowing a huge load on his cousin's neck and expensive new shirt because he couldn't hold it in after finally getting good head, a few more gropes and tugs in stolen moments, leading to Mick wanking another fella for the first time (in the toilets at another cousin's wedding...), and finally, fucking him in a tatty motel room the night before he left for...somewhere in Germany, Mick thought. He never could pronounce it. Some country with vowels as hard as his cock right now. That was the first and last time he'd had his cock in a man's arse - mostly because his cousin had asked about 50 times and Mick was afraid he'd tell Linda if he didn't get the dick he seemed to plan his days around by then, but also because he wanted to try it at least once. Having only one partner was a lovely story to tell other people, but fucking boring to actually live. This was the best time to try - the hole being filled was on a cheap flight out the next day, and never coming back. He also knew he was never going to be taking Linda up the arse. He still remembered how he moaned and gasped when he first felt the squeeze, when, after ages, he was balls deep. How tight it was, how good it was. He'd forgotten what a tight cunt wrapped around his shaft brought out in him. This was a man he could never be with his wife, who was so soft, so lovely...she wouldn't want to hear him breathless as he slowly slid in and out of her, his meaty thighs pushed against her as he slowly pushed her face into the pillow as he made his way on top of her. He looked down at his cousin's smooth back, his sweat dripping down onto the lean muscles, and could have pretended it was his wife, but he didn't want to. He wanted this to be with a bloke - wanted to remember it when he pounded hard and rough the way he never would with his L. When he filled his cousin up, brimming over with gooey cream that trickled down the insides of his thighs, melded their sweaty, spent bodies together.
He thought of the blokes in the twenty years since - drunken 'straight' mates who couldn't resist groping and sucking him dry while their wives were chatting away downstairs (one had even eaten his hairy arse out while they were supposed to be watching the cup final...Mick never could settle down for a friendly can with him again after that), queens at his old pub who were always handsy and who as often as not had to have their hands and mouths (and if Mick was drunk enough himself, occasionally their arses) on him. The pervy bank manager who would only extend a line of credit that really shouldn't have been extended if Mick would unzip the tight suit trousers he'd worn for the occasion and wank off for him right in his office.
It hadn't been that many, especially for twenty years. So few he'd put most of them out of his head until now, until he knew he'd be taking a much bigger step.
He looked down to see Johnny's hand on his thigh, slowly gliding up the denim trail. He knew he was supposed to say stop, don't, but he just watched the hand, heard his son's short intakes of breath...looked at his scared, eager face. So worried Mick would reject him, hurt him.
Mick couldn't do that.
As the hand reached his bulge, Mick leaned forward, his forehead against Johnny's forehead, breathing words of love as they shared their first kiss. Tender and sweet, gentle biting of lips, soft murmurs. Pulling apart to lick their own lips - and each other's. A kiss-stung Johnny made Mick growl.
Sweet turned to hot as Johnny surprised his father by expertly going to work on his belt buckle and zip.
"Lotsa practice with that grand hand?" Mick teased, pleased he made Johnny blush.
He thought, with another stolen kiss, Johnny would say he'd learned from his own movements, but the answer was a surprise.
"Me and Danny - we did...we did loads..."
Mick fumed at the thought of that sleaze all over his son. He instinctively leaned forward, squeezing the tight arse in those tight jeans.
"He didn't - " Johnny promised. "I've never."
Mick felt guilty at how happy that made him. He knew what that meant, that he wanted Johnny's first fucking to be from him, his first raw load, the first time he felt full from a man.
"I-I can't do this, Johnny" he said, pushing his son off the bed and trying to stand up.
He didn't get far before Johnny reached for his half-open jeans, yanking them down, along with his tight black briefs. His horse cock, so hard from the forbidden encounter that it practically tore a hole through his top, took a place of pride in his son's all-too-experienced hand.
"Please," Johnny said, a voice husky with sex. He stared up at Mick with devotion as he began to wank him.
Mick tried to move, but he couldn't. He soon knew why. He didn't want to. His knees buckled when Johnny began to peel back his foreskin. The need his son felt for him made itself as clear as he placed Mick's thick bell end on the tip of his tongue.
Mick knew now he'd never be able to stop himself. Linda hated blow jobs and this was going to be his first in a few years. He knew it wouldn't last very long. He lifted his top over his head, sighing as Johnny pinched at his hairy, fat stomach at the same time as he tugged at his bull balls, balls full of cum just for him.
They both knew that, and it made them both moan, the dual realization of just how far they'd gone.
"Get up," Mick barked, tearing off Johnny's shirt to feel his son's smooth, toned chest, always so much more in shape than he gave Johnny credit for. Bare chests, hairy and hairless, bumped together as Johnny pulled his father in for a bruising kiss.
Mick and Johnny frantically worked in tandem to shove Johnny's jeans down his slim legs. Johnny took a breath and let Mick lower his boxers, getting a good look at his son's hard cock - long and thin, a bit thicker than Mick might have guessed. And pretty, like Johnny. None of the veins and roughness of Mick.
"Perfect," he kissed into Johnny's ear as he grasped his son's length for the first time, the full shudder and the splatter of pre-cum against his reddened shaft and hairy nuts telling him how important this was to both of them.
Johnny grabbed Mick's cock at the base and tugged him over, hard, one hand squeezing his dad's chunky, furry arse as the other pushed their shafts together, one on top of the other.
Mick was almost tempted to thank that cunt Danny for teaching his lad so well, but he'd have to thump him first. He was jealous and yet leaking like a busted pipe as he wondered if his son had had his fingers or tongue up that peachy arse Danny always loved to show off in his suit trousers.
He groaned into Johnny's mouth, shuddering all over as the awareness that he was about to make his youngest son cum, get wanked off into a mind blowing load by his son at the same time. Sweat and fear of moving even an inch for shooting off kept them together, Johnny's pecs to Mick's tits, forehead to forehead, beard to sweet cheek.
Mick bit into his boy's neck, screaming in a way he was both ashamed and staggered by as he began to rocket into his son's hand, so soft and sensitive, yet milking him like a pro.
Johnny was right after him, sighing and cursing soft little curses, still ashamed of being vulgar in front of his father even now, drunk and dirty, but not so ashamed that he didn't mind erupting in his father's coarse, callused paw of a hand.
They both stared after that, panting, Johnny's curls in his eyes. Mick moved them out of the way, staring at his son.
"This is where we say we were wrong and we'll never do it again..." Johnny whispered, licking his lips.
Mick nodded, glad he was out of breath, because it meant he didn't have to respond.
He jumped, they both jumped, when they heard the women coming home, squabbling downstairs. They had to get ready, fast.
Mick still took one final risk, not able to resist giving Johnny a sweet, lingering kiss on his bow lips. Telling his awe-struck son, without words, that none of this was wrong, or his fault...and, with one last wink before he left the bedroom, that they'd be doing this again.
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Mick's oldest son, Johnny's big brother (in every sense of the word, as he'd show you after a few beers), Lee, was on his way to Walford for a surprise visit, but didn't quite make it. He only got as far as a pub on the outskirts before his bladder and the lateness of the night stopped him. He wondered how his family was doing - running their own pub, the way his mum and dad had always wanted. He hadn't been in close contact in the last few months, with being in the army, but he missed them. The routine was a distraction, along with the constant stream of pussy and prick, but he still felt lonely most of the time.
He heard two men mention Walford as they walked in. They didn't seem very friendly. The broader and younger man, probably around Lee's age, was named Joey. Clean-cut - like one of those sex dolls Lee had more boozy blowout experience with than he'd admit to. Dark hair, close-cropped and always combed into place. A superhero's chiseled jaw and sculpted chest and arms, rippling muscles. Tree trunk thighs. A porn star's dick and ass, a bubble arse made of pure muscle (Lee's was as much fat as muscle, which he always felt anxious about...not that most of the slags of various genders seemed to mind when they got their hands on it) and a huge hose pipe painted against his skintight brown slacks.
The other man, Danny, looked about ten or fifteen years older, but was just as handsome; more in the slick supervillain way, world domination and bedroom dominance all in one tasty package. He obviously wore well-tailored suits, this one shiny and black. He took off his jacket for no real reason, other than to let everyone look at the goods. Genetics and regular exercise had obviously given him a tasty rump, juicy even as the rest of his body was slim. Lee knew immediately he must be a fag or at least, like Lee, a dirty slag for anything that came along, with the way he was happy to present what was a beautiful arse.
The men clearly were not friends as a few pints led them to louder arguments, over some bird named Janine, with some nasty comments about her plumbing that Lee tried not to snicker at, with the one named Joey lashing out at the one named Danny for only getting his "tiny cock" hard for Janine's cash, followed by the one named Danny accusing the one named Joey of just shagging her because he got bored of his cousin. Lee snorted, as this was getting good. It got even better when the one named Danny then pulled his prick out where only Joey - and Lee, lucky boy that he was - could see. And he definitely didn't have a tiny cock.
There was clearly going to be a fight, so they shoved each other into the toilets. Lee discreetly followed, hearing cursing and shouting, but more to the point of his aching anaconda, he also heard kissing, biting, grunting, and the tearing of clothes. Buttons flying, shirts ripping. Joey's shirt was in pieces around his torso as Danny bit at his juicy tits and big succulent nipples. Danny's white dress shirt was wide open, ruined, as Joey yanked at his chest hair and punched at the slight tummy he had on his genetically blessed frame.
He fished his cock out of his fatigues as the two men began to desperately strip below the waist. Joey's cock was one of the biggest Lee had ever seen, a two-hander that Lee would guess cocked in at 10 inches. It practically went up to the ceiling, expressing its approval of Danny's own stiff member. His arse was even more stunning, pale marble that proved immune to the many slaps and whacks from Danny's skilled hand...and soon, his belt.
Lee stripped fully naked now, pinching his nipples and looking at his gut and fleshy pecs in the mirror, wiping his hair out of his eyes to get a better look at his own gift from the dick gods. He wanted to be jealous of Joey but really he just wanted it in his mouth and in his arse. He hoped he'd get the chance someday.
As he ran his hands down his meaty thighs and slapped his fat prick against his hand, he listened as they kept talking, cut in between groans and grunts that were clearly Joey sitting on Danny's generous girth.
They asked each other what their wildest experiences had been lately.
Joey hesitated until the dicking got so good that his defenses and shame were all gone. He admitted he'd gotten into a huge fight with his uncle Max and they'd fucked on the living room sofa. He'd eaten out his uncle's arse, and went on about how perfect it was until Lee wished he could see it in a museum. He finished up by saying he'd fucked his uncle so hard that he hadn't been able to walk right for a week.
Lee bit into his hand to hide the groan. One hand went to his mouth and then behind him to plug his hungry and huge arse up with three fingers, the other went to town wanking at his jawbreaker and tugging at his lightly haired low-hangers.
He waited to hear how Danny would top it...and he got more than he ever expected when Danny boasted about how he'd flirted with, exchanged nude pictures with, kissed, stripped and sucked the new 19-year old twink in Walford, and would be popping his cherry any day now. Joey, as he blew his load all over Danny's chest, neck and face, asked who it was.
When Danny, in between greedy licks of cum down his throat, said, reverently, that the lad's name was "Johnny Carter," Lee came so hard he nearly blacked out. Rivers and rivers of the wildest and the most shocked and most guilt-ridden load he'd ever lost.
Slumped against the stall door as he listened to Danny and Joey starting on another round, Lee knew he'd have a lot to talk to his brother about on his next visit.