Wicked Games - 7. Game Over

 

[20 years earlier]

"Thanks, man!" The attractive twenty-something man said as he stretched his arm to grab the beer bottle his friend was handing him. "Is there a reason we're watching this shit?" He questioned as he glanced at his friend, who fell over the couch, chugging half his beer before he shrugged. "Bob, what's up?" He drilled.

Robert's skewering blue eyes finally lifted, locking on his mate.

"Nothing." He replied, his voice aloof.

"I've known you since we were three, dude. Spit it out!" The handsome friend urged.

"You're not my fucking wife, Michael," Robert uttered, annoyed.

"We're practically married, baby." Michael jested. He winked and wrapped his muscular arm around Robert's neck, pulling his face toward his chest.

Robert chuckled, and they wrestled momentarily before both halted, letting their bodies dip into each other.

Michael was a tall guy, maybe 5.9, and his body seemed massive, shoved inside that small couch. He had dark brown hair, hairy chest and legs, and wide thighs, and despite his somewhat crude look, his eyes transpired an unexpected tenderness. By how he looked at Robert, one could tell he trusted him.

"I'm just so fucking bored all the time. Maybe I'm depressed." Robert's muffled voice mumbled from under Michael's hairy chest.

"You got to be fucking kidding me..." Michael rasped, pulling himself forward, making Robert slide back to his side of the couch, his eyes gazing at his friend. "You just sold your tech business for more money than you'll need or could spend, even if you lived nine consecutive lives. You're fucking rich, Bob!" He exclaimed. "And you're not even 25 yet..." Michael stated, his voice slightly peeved.

"That was a year ago." Robert countered. "I've done everything on my bucket list...and then some." He said, taking his hands and placing them behind his head. "I just..." He muttered before stopping.

"What?" Michael insisted, his naked chest moving up and down, his eyes slightly drunk already.

"At first, it's exhilarating, having money, you know? But...after a while, things feel empty." Robert attempted to explain, his blue gaze turning to the ceiling before becoming vacant. "There's no rush of blood to the head..." He muttered cryptically.

"Maybe you just haven't found what you want." Michael countered.

"I don't think money could buy me what I want." Robert reacted.

There was a brief silence before Michael leaned back into the couch, sighing loudly as his eyes scoured the window. He chugged the rest of the beer, placing it on the small table next to him, and as he adjusted his position, his pelvis tilted up slightly, unveiling his hard cock pressing through his shorts.

"Get us another beer, will you?" Michael requested. Robert pulled himself off the couch and wobbled over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking two bottles out before returning to his seat. "Cheers." He uttered, lifting the bottle, sporting a gentle smirk as he glanced at Robert's blue eyes. "Don't..." Michael warned.

"I didn't say anything," Robert replied, his eyes battling the urge to look down at Michael's groin.

"I know what you're thinking. It's not going to happen, Bob." Michael declared.

"What about..." Robert interjected before being cut off.

"That was one fucking time...and I remember you promising we'd never talk about it." Michael countered, getting visibly riled up.

"I know," Robert uttered. "And I remember you moaning as you came inside my mouth." He stated, his voice daring and passionate. Michael chuckled and took his hands to his face, shielding it. "You're so fucking sexy when you do that..." Robert whispered, almost to himself.

"Fine..." Michael muttered. "But shut that thing off. It's distracting." He said, pointing his chin to the TV set.

Robert jumped from his seat, grabbed the remote, and punched the red button, tossing it over the coffee table. By the time he turned, Michael's hand was already inside his shorts, stroking his cock.

"Fuck, Michael..." Robert muttered, his lancing blue eyes elated by his friend's readiness.

"Stop talking, dude...just fucking do it," Michael grunted, pulling his arms back and crossing his hands over his forehead. Robert smiled, carefully navigating Michael's boundaries, trying to cage his utter contentment.

He slid down to the ground and kneeled between the stud's legs, grabbing the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down. Michael's cock immediately slingshotted back, hitting his abdomen with a loud slap. Robert gazed at it in awe. It was beautiful, long, about 8 inches, uncut, oozing the most intoxicating musky scent and already bleeding precum. Suddenly, Michael lifted his hands slightly, letting his tender eyes peek down at Robert, who darted up at him. They lingered there momentarily before Michael chuckled and covered his face again. Robert was in heaven. He lunged forward and grabbed Michael's cock, pulling it toward his mouth. He sucked on the tip, glazing his lips with his friend's precum. But he immediately felt greedy, and in seconds, Robert lunged down, mouth agape, and wrapped his jaws around Michael's throbbing cock, hugging it before pulling up, stopping inches from the tip, and wiggling his tongue along the gland.

"Holy shit." Michael groaned, his pelvis twitching slightly. Robert felt compelled to respond, to spew something dirty and utterly depraved, but he held his own, his head now moving up and down Michael's shaft. "Bob..." Michael whispered, almost involuntarily, propelling Robert to moan.

And then, as this silent exchange occurred, the dynamic suddenly shifted.

"Mother fucker, you're going at it this time." Michael snorted as the slurping sounds of Robert's mouth going up and down his cock began loading the room. And for several minutes, they lingered, gradually building in intensity. Every once in a while, Michael's groin would shiver slightly, propelled by Robert halting his mouth at the tip and wiggling his tongue over the stud's gland. "Fuck, Bob..." Michael whispered, his voice becoming lustful, his masculine pridefulness unable to conceal itself anymore.

"You like that?" Robert questioned, pulling back, his breathing hectic as he skimmed his lips and tongue along the side of Michael's veiny cock.

"Shut the fuck up." Michael groaned.

"We're way past that," Robert mumbled, wiggling his tongue on the stud's tip. "You want me to stop?" Robert teased, sucking off the tip gently, making sure to hug the shaft with his tongue as he pulled out, propelling Michael to moan accordingly. "Hmm?" He razzed, now confident he had the stud in his grasp.

And how right he was.

Michael's eyes finally shifted, leaving the ceiling and descending, locking on Robert, who peeked at him, his tenacious blues shimmering with rapture. His mouth stretched around Michael's dick, his warm tongue brushing its delicate skin.

"You fucking cunt." Michael grunted, almost surprised. Robert moaned submissively. Their eyes were latched, seemingly incapable of pulling away from each other. Something was happening between the two friends. "You like sucking that dick, don't you?" Michael questioned, his tone becoming belligerent. Robert whined accordingly, his voice shifting into an almost feminine form.

"I love it," Robert murmured between breaths, trying to pull away. But as he did, Michael's hands came down and held his friend's dark hair.

"I fucking knew it...since high school. Such a sneaky little faggot." Michael spewed, his hips now thrusting his cock forcefully inside Robert's mug. "Fuck, Bob!" Michael hollered, his voice slightly unhinged. "Look how fucking hard you're making me." He groaned, his fingers gripping Robert's hair, holding his head down as he hammered his dick inside his mouth.

Robert began to choke, his fingers nabbing the couch's fabric, eyes watering as froth spewed from the corners of his mouth. Soon, these high-pitched wails started to break through, aggravating Michael's dominant side.

"Shut the fuck up!" The stud hollered, slapping Robert's head. "Watch the teeth!" He exclaimed as Robert's head began to shake, his throat recoiling from the gag reflex. Yet, despite Michael's belligerent treatment, Robert seemed delighted and enthusiastic.

Suddenly, Michael slanted forward, pulling Robert's hair back, forcing him away from his cock. He stared down at his friend, face wholly flushed, his mouth gaped, and his electric blue eyes glancing up, exposing his complete vulnerability. And then, Michael leaned forward so slowly that Robert could feel it happening in slow motion, the stud's breath slowly pushing into his nostrils. It seemed Michael was about to kiss him, so Robert closed his eyes, lustfully awaiting what he so desperately hungered for. But Michael halted, inches from Robert's lips, the stud's breath pushing into him before he felt a splatter of spit hit his eyes, nose, and mouth.

"Just finish the fucking job." Michael coldly demanded. Robert slowly unfurled his eyes, now layered with a misty coating. He leaned forward and started sucking Michael's cock. And while he did, tears tumbled along his flushed cheeks, his spirit broken. "Fuck, that's it...I'm gonna bust..." Michael announced, his head dropping back on the couch.

Soon, thick twines of cum were firing inside Robert's mouth, coating his tongue and throat with a sharp, tart flavor. Among his dismay, there was a slight surprise, a sudden realization that the taste of Michael's cum mirrored his feelings. As he pulled back, his throat gobbling the last pieces of batter, Robert's eyes finally lifted, his gaze now set on Michael. The stud chuckled and glanced down, leaning forward and pulling his briefs back on.

"If you tell this to anyone, I'll kill you." Michael groused, scrubbing his hands over his face. Put off by Robert's silence, he let his arms down, frowning at his friend. "Bob, say something." He pressed.

Without ever taking his eyes off his friend, Robert took his hand to his face and preened off a string of cum that had latched itself to his upper lip.

"I love you," Robert whispered. Michael stared at him, dumbfounded, and after a brief silence, he chuckled sarcastically.

"You're fucking pathetic." He said belligerently. "Go get me a beer." He mandated.

Robert's heart sank as he realized no amount of dedication would ever make Michael love him.

"I'll be right back," Robert's defeated voice said before he hauled himself off the floor, dragging himself out of the living room and into the hallway bathroom. He closed the door slowly until the lock finally clicked.

Robert turned around and walked to the mirror, his eyes struggling to cage his tears. The harder he tried, the more bloody they became, and the rich blueness of his gaze almost disappeared. He turned on the hot water on the sink and gazed at his reflection. Rage and self-loathing began to possess his body and spirit.

Then, suddenly, something inside Robert's eyes began to change. The last drizzles of empathy and pureness seemingly left them. He chuckled nervously, the sound dissipating under the running water. Gradually, it morphed into a slightly deranged giggle, forcing him to clutch his hand around his mouth to thwart the sound.

As the laughter intensified, the steam from the hot water began to shroud the mirror, gradually erasing Robert's reflection.

[Hours later]

Michael's body awoke, alarmed. His head felt wheezy and disoriented. He leaned forward but immediately fell back, his eyes instinctively scouring around only to find his wrists and ankles had been tied to his bedroom bed.

"What the fuck...?" Michael muttered, fluttering his eyes as he tried to see through the darkness the room was drowned in. Moments later, he heard steps toward his bedside lamp, and a gentle click before the most eerily somber red light enveloped the room. "Bob?" Michael questioned as his eyes locked on Robert's body, hovering over him. But soon, his expression shifted, taken aback by Robert's apparent lack of emotion. "What the fuck is this?" He asked, jerking his wrists forward as he tried to undo the straps.

"Hey, stud." Robert's cold voice whispered. Sorry about the setup. It could be better, but I had to improvise. I spent twenty minutes dragging you up here." He clarified as he paced calmly around the room, lighting candles. I put some pills in your beer," he revealed, glancing at Michael's stunned face. C'mon now. We both know you wouldn't have done this willingly." Robert stated.

"What the hell are you doing?" Michael questioned. His voice was bottling with outrage but desperately attempting to remain subdued.

"Following your advice!" Robert exclaimed, his tone turning unhinged before rapidly reverting to a cold, soothing one. "While you were knocked out, I got to thinking. About my bucket list." He confided before stopping just inches from the foot of the bed. "I did every fucking thing on that list. ..except the only thing I wanted to." Robert confessed.

"Bob...c'mon, man..." Michael whispered, his nervousness finally slipping through the cracks of his voice.

"Michael, don't. It's okay. You didn't push me into this. I want to do it." Robert stated, a discomforting serenity in his countenance.

Suddenly, Michael's body began to contort violently, the straps stretching as his body shook violently.

"Goddam it, you son of a bitch!" He shouted, inflamed. Robert smiled and began to undress himself.

"Fuck, Michael, stop teasing me like that," Robert uttered as he pulled his t-shirt and tossed it on the floor. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you'll beg me to stop." He slithered, pushing his shorts down and exposing his 7-inch, throbbing cock. "Before you start imploring me to keep going." He stated as he strolled to the door, his left arm reaching for it. "You're in for some wicked games, my friend." He whispered, an insidious grin on his face as he drew the door shut, the sounds of Michael's screams echoing behind it.

 

[Present time, somewhere in south Portugal - 8.15 p.m]

It was the warmest night ever recorded. The air felt motionless, and the sky's clearness allowed the stars to pierce through the endless darkness. Outside the secluded house, everything felt quiet.

Inside, however, it was an entirely different matter.

"Just take whatever you want. We won't call the police, I promise." Robert's voice bargained, his head dunked between his shoulders, tilting slightly from one side to the other as he tried to discern the location of the individual pacing behind him. His eyes were blindfolded. He could hear his wife's whining in the back. "C'mon, man...let's talk." He insisted, his tone eerily calm.

Suddenly, the pacing halted, and he felt the mysterious presence walk past him, yanking his blindfold off. Robert's eyes flickered, blinking and twitching as he tried to adjust to the darkness in which the house was drowned. Despite the blur, he noticed a large man walk onto the couch before him, his broad back obscuring most of his view, slowly shrinking as he walked towards it.

"Robert, Robert...You're a fascinating creature," a deep voice said. The man turned around and dropped his heavy body on the couch, extending his arms sideways and turning one of the lamps on, finally revealing his face.

And as the fog around his eyes dissipated, Robert's face gaped in shock.

"Surprised? I am, to be honest." Ben uttered, calm and collected. Yet his eyes fumed with bottled rage. "Grateful, nonetheless." He stated. "You're a hard man to find, Bob." He commented with a playful tone.

"Ben..." Robert uttered sedately. Yet, inside his eyes, Ben could see his disbelief. The stud glanced at Robert's wife, her eyes darting between the two men. Ben smiled.

"I knew you wouldn't forget me," Ben stated. After all, I'm the one who got away, right?" he questioned, with a complete tone shift. Ben then turned to Robert's wife, sitting tied to a chair, mouth taped, just a few feet from the couch. "Your husband and I have...how would I put it..." Ben teased, almost theatrically. "Unfinished business," he said, turning his eyes back to Robert.

"Ben..." Robert uttered. Ben could see Robert's brain wheels turning behind his electric blue eyes. "Be smart about this. I'm pretty sure we can work something out." Robert haggled.

"Work something out?" Ben questioned, his entire body struggling to keep from lunging at Robert's throat. He took a deep breath, leaning forward on the couch as he stared into Robert's eyes. "There will be no deal or negotiation here today," Ben stated, his voice low and guttural, reverberating across the room. "You owe me your fucking life, and I've come to collect it," Ben uttered.

Robert's wife's muffled wail escaped under the tape, but Ben seemed unphased, his focus now entirely on the man before him.

"But before we get started..." Ben uttered, pulling himself off the couch and walking past Robert, reaching for the bag on the table behind him. He pulled a long metal stick from inside the bag and walked back to Robert's chair, purposely standing before him. Robert's eyes gaped as Ben revealed his hand holding a golf club. "A gift. From me to you." Ben announced, pulling his arms back and bringing the club down on Robert's knee.

His scream bellowed through the walls. Yet, outside, its painful potency quickly melted into the nothingness of that forlorn place.

[10.30 p.m]

Robert's eyes unfurled, sweat drizzling down his forehead and hitting his bare legs. As he slowly lifted his eyes, he realized his wife sat on a chair opposite him, still bound to it, and gagged. Her eyes gawked as she stared at her husband's battered knee.

"Emily..." Robert muttered as his eyes scanned the room. Soon, they met Ben's, the stud back on the couch, his feet relaxing comfortably over the coffee table.

"Welcome back...You passed out from the pain." Ben mocked, trying to appease Robert's momentary disarray.

"Where's Sean? Where's my son?" Robert questioned. Ben squinted, surprised. It was the first time he ever felt Robert's vulnerability, apart from the instance when he spoke about his first kill. He was so absorbed in Robert's manner that he didn't initially respond.

"He's upstairs, in his room. Heavily sedated." Ben stated with an uncharacteristically cold demeanor.

"If you hurt him..." Robert threatened, his tone still testing Ben's resolve. There was a brief silence before Ben's deep voice punctured the living room's darkness.

"Who do you think I am, Robert? You?" Ben noted.

He leaned forward, placed his feet on the carpet, and set something over the table, dispelling a sharp sound across the living room. Robert's eyes glanced at the handgun Ben held in his hand.

"You know, Robert...I have to give credit where credit is due." Ben uttered, his hand shifting the gun over the table in small movements. "It must be fucking exhausting having to live hiding who you truly are," Ben remarked. "Aren't you tired?" He stirred as he goggled deep into Robert's blue gaze. After a brief silence, Ben chuckled. "Lucky for you, I know exactly who you are, but...does she?" He questioned, lifting the gun and pointing to Emily, whose eyes shivered in fear. "While you were out, I read Emily's private journals." Ben divulged. Emily's eyes shifted to her husband. "Guess you're not the only one with secrets." Ben ridiculed, turning to Robert, who kept looking at his wife. "But this is the thing about liars: sooner or later, even the best ones get caught," Ben stated, lifting himself off the couch and dragging the gun with him.

"Mother fucker..." Robert whispered as he let his chin sink into his chest, his voice loaded with irritation.

But it wasn't long before he lifted his head again, ushered by Emily's heavy breathing. As he followed her eyes, locked on the entranceway to the sizeable living room, his own gaped. Ben was walking in their direction, carrying several notebooks with him.

"I think it's time for a little couple's counseling," Ben announced, plunging his body back onto the couch. He then looked at Robert with unsettling purpose.

Suddenly, Robert muttered something.

"What was that?" Ben questioned. Robert seemed apprehensive to divulge. "Spit it out, mother fucker!" Ben yelled, making Emily flinch in her seat.

"I...need to go to the bathroom," Robert uttered. Ben stared at him for a while before releasing an understated chuckle.

"Sure," Ben replied, reclining further into the couch. "Go." Ben directed a sadistic smile on his lips.

Robert glanced at him, acknowledging Ben's underlying purpose. A few seconds later, piss started pouring from Robert's undies, cascading down his chair and into the carpet under him. Tears fell from Emily's eyes as Robert looked at her, his expression cold. Then suddenly, as he emptied his blatter, Ben's voice broke into the air.

"It's been six weeks since we got married. Robert has been distant and aloof. I've tried to engage and have him talk about it, but my attempts further aggravate him." He read, holding a small, black leathered notebook in his left hand. Emily's eyes flashed as Robert came up to meet hers. "Oh, this is a good one. You should hear this, Robert!" Ben exclaimed exuberantly. "Robert's business trips are becoming frequent. Last time, he was gone for an entire month. I confronted him last night, and he reacted very defensively. There's just something inside his eyes that scares me sometimes. Something I never noticed before." Ben quoted, his face beaming as he tossed the notebook to the side, picking another one from a small pile.

Emily's tears began to diminish as Robert's cold stare stopped, his stern gaze locking on his wife.

"I told Robert I was pregnant. I could feel him faking his reaction. No emotion or genuine happiness. He's becoming more and more distant. I'm afraid that I married a man I don't know." Ben continued, reveling in the egregious discomfort building between the couple as he slowly chipped away at their veneers. "Well, you hit the nail on the head, Emily," Ben commented, pulling himself forward as he opened another notebook and held it with both hands. "I went to visit my sister today. She thinks I should divorce him. Later that day, I told Robert I had gone to visit her. He smacked me. I fell back and hit my forehead on the sink. It was the first time he hit me. He didn't seem sorry. In fact, he seemed...relieved. I haven't been able to fall asleep beside him since. I'm scared all the time." Ben read.

Robert's gaze was motionless, latched on his wife's glistening eyes, fidgeting with angst.

"Robert returned from his last trip today. His chest was bandaged, and he said he got injured on a fishing trip with some of his partners. But something is off. He's unusually nervous. He wants us to move, but he won't explain why. Sean won't understand. All this constant moving. I want to say no, but I'm scared of how he'll react." Ben quoted before tossing the book on the coffee table. "Plot twist, Emily. It wasn't a fishing accident." Ben said, grabbing the gun and standing up. He walked over to Robert and stood behind him, leaning down and taking his lips into his ear. "It was me." He revealed. Emily cried, her hectic breathing muffled by the tape around her mouth. "You see..." Ben whispered into Robert, pushing his breath into him. "Your husband and I squabbled the last time we were together," Ben explained, sliding his hand down Robert's chest into his stomach. "But I bet no one has left a scar quite like mine. Right, stud?" Ben taunted.

"He's lying..." Robert muttered between his teeth as he glanced at his wife. Ben chuckled from behind him.

"She doesn't believe you," Ben whispered near Robert's ear before stepping around his chair, over to Emily, and kneeling in front of her. "Emily..." Ben called, trying to garner the woman's attention, whose eyes wandered around as she tried to contain her raw desperation. "Emily, look at me." Ben insisted, his tone eerily calm and accommodating, finally allowing Emily's eyes to focus on him. As they met, she dove inside Ben's gentleness, and her body's shivering subsided. "A woman's intuition is a powerful thing. And your soul has been whispering the truth into your heart for quite some time now, right?" Ben gently asked. Emily's eyes slowly blinked before nodding. Then her head fell forward, and she began to weep. Ben's hand came up, falling gently over the back of her head. "I'm sorry." He whispered as he brushed his forehead over hers. "But you should have left him when you had the chance." He softly whispered. After a few seconds, he pulled back, walking over to Robert and standing behind his chair.

"Cat got your tongue, Robert?" Ben teased. "I thought you'd be grateful. Relieved even. At least in front of your wife, you can stop pretending you're not a fucking psychopath." Ben groaned, his voice indicating some caged anger. Then he leaned over, placing his hands on Robert's shoulders and pushing his body down on the chair. "You started this." He continued before pausing and chuckling, his breath spewing into Robert's hair. "But now that I'm here, with you...I'm beginning to feel particularly generous, so, who knows..." Ben gibed, licking Robert's ear and sliding his hand inside his undies. He could feel Robert's breathing increase, and his dick hardened inside his palm. "If you behave yourself, I might forget this whole thing and let you finish what we started in that bedroom." He groaned, pulling Robert's hair back and biting his neck.

Robert released a construed moan, a pitiful attempt at containing his obvious lust for Ben.

"What do you want?" Robert moaned, his dick now fully hard as Ben stroked it, precum seeping from the tip.

"Tell her who you are?" Ben whispered into his ear. "Tell her how you broke into my house, held me captive for five days while you and your buddy raped my best friend continuously until there was nothing left of the person he was." Ben exposed, purposely staring at Emily's horrified eyes.

"Fuck you, mother fucker!" Robert blurted, his body jerking violently on the chair.

"Shhh...hush, stud." Ben calmly whispered, his hand beating Robert's shaft energetically, seemingly subduing his anger. "Do it, and I'll let you fuck my virgin ass. I've been saving myself for you, you know?" Ben continued, his words slithering inside Robert's depraved mind. "Tell her how you'd done it countless times before. And that's the reason you dragged your family around. So you wouldn't get caught." Ben persisted, his strokes intensifying.

"Jesus Christ..." Robert rasped, his head falling back, landing on Ben's shoulder.

"It's throbbing," Ben announced before suddenly halting as he felt Robert's thighs clench. "Hold that thought." Ben directed, straightening himself, rushing for the coffee table, and grabbing something.

Suddenly, Ben's eyes locked on Robert, who had followed Ben since he let go of his dick. The Latin stud walked back to Robert's chair, sliding behind him and reaching for his dick again. Then, Robert felt something sharp cut through the tape around his wrist, and his right hand fell by the side of the chair.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Robert asked, confused.

"I'm offering you a way out." The stud uttered, sliding something cold inside Robert's free hand. It was the gun. "Kill her. Or kill yourself." Ben proposed.

"What...?" Robert questioned, his eyes squinting in disbelief. His mouth slightly flared as he tried to confine his eros.

"You heard me. Kill yourself, and I'll let both of them go." Ben informed as he continued to stroke Robert's cock. "Shoot her, and you'll be free from this domesticated life you despise," Ben stated, gently pressing his lips into Robert's neck, feeling his heartbeat pulsating through his veins.

Emily's eyes shifted sideways, her panicked gaze scouring the back of the room, drowned in darkness.

"What about Sean...?" Robert asked, in between weighty breaths as Ben teased his perennial gland with his thumb, pushing Robert to the verge of his orgasm.

"He'll be motherless," Ben said. "But I'll let you keep him." The stud added, slowly releasing his hand from Robert's cock, making his body shiver slightly as his balls recoiled.

Ben stood up and began stepping back slowly, seemingly waiting for words to seal the deal. Like a surgeon, a master of his craft, Ben was slowly but surely carving at Robert's shell and exhuming his dormant, rotted core. And it wasn't long before Ben's figure disappeared into the darkness, before the psychopath's authentic voice finally broke from under that fragile disguise he hid behind.

"Will you let me fuck you?" Robert asked, his stony tone finally unearthed.

After a brief silence, filled only by Emily's desperate breathing, Ben's voice enunciated from inside the darkness he had stepped into.

"Yes." He replied.

Without missing a beat, Robert's arm rose in the air, and a loud and sharp gunshot blasted inside the living room. Everything went dark. And the smell of gunpowder filled the room. A minute or two passed before these strange giggles began to ascend out of the room's blackness, slowly evolving into a burst of unbridled maniacal laughter.

"Fucking bitch!" Robert yelled in between laughs, trying desperately to speak and breathe simultaneously. "Fuck, that felt good!" He celebrated with unbridled yet contained euphoria, holding his voice inside his clenched mouth before it dissolved into a dwindling chuckle. "Ben?" Robert called in a chilling tone. "A deal is a deal. Now get your ass here." He jested, his true self now completely exposed.

"You should have listened to me the first time, Robert." Ben's voice spoke from behind the couch, where no light had touched all night. "I didn't come here to negotiate." He affirmed before popping on the floor lamp behind it, an outbreak of shock enveloping Robert's eyes.

Ben stood tall, his right hand around Robert's son's neck, who sat on a chair, mouth taped and hands bound behind his back. The boy's horrified blue eyes barred on his father's.

"Dad..." Sean's muffled voice uttered from under the black gaffer tape, his eyes shedding tears that rolled over them.

Robert's body began to enlarge, everything unfurling and moving forward slowly. He stretched his arm, aiming it at Ben, and fired a second shot. But a soft, empty-sounding click spewed from the weapon's trim.

"God Damm you! Son of a bitch!!" Robert vocifered, his mouth spewing froth and his body shuddering and convulsing as he tried to free himself off the chair.

But Ben just turned his back to him, casually picking his son up and carrying Sean out of the living room on his shoulders. Robert could hear the Latin stud's feet ascending the stairs to the second floor. He began screaming uncontrollably, the vulnerability of his circumstances finally sinking in, propelling his innermost madness to stab through. And for over fifteen minutes, his screams resounded across the house until his voice became tired, his vocal cords strained to their limit.

Robert was so zoned out as he lashed out in fury that he didn't even realize Ben had returned. It was only when the Latin stud's closed fist struck his face and knocked him and his chair onto the carpeted floor that his screams finally halted.

As soon as his face hit the floor, his mouth spewed two teeth out.

"Mother fucker...you broke my teeth..." Robert mumbled between sadistic laughs before Ben's hand pulled one of the chair's feet, dragging Robert across the floor. "Watch the knee!" Robert grunted, almost like a child, as his face screeched in pain. But his tantrum was short-lived. Seconds later, Ben's foot was flying inches above the floor into Robert's face, hitting him in the nose and breaking it.

"I have to be honest, Robert. I expected this to take longer. That it would be harder to break you." Ben confessed as he pulled Robert's hair, forcing him to look up. "But turns out all you needed was a little nudge," Ben added. "I guess this life you built for yourself is exactly like you: perfect from the outside but rotting on the inside." He finally stated, dropping Robert's head on the floor.

"You're no fucking different than I am, Ben." Robert vocifered, his face contorting in pain.

But, despite Robert's attempts, his words no longer reached Ben's heart.

"This is for every victim who died at your hands, you sick fuck." Ben expressed, his fist coming down on Robert's face again. There was a muffled cracking sound escorting the third blow.

"And this is for Jamie," Ben whispered, the skin on his knuckles peeling off. "You raped a 15-year-old boy and left him orphaned. You damaged his soul beyond repair and robbed him of a normal life. For that alone, I should bash your skull against this carpet." Ben stated, suppressing his anger. Every muscle in his body expands and protrudes through his tanned skin.

"He was just...a fucking...cum pig..." Robert chuckled, his voice lagging. His cheek was lacerated, and his mouth spewed blood into the carpet.

"And this is for Ethan," Ben announced, lofting himself up and walking to his bag on the dining table. "And Robert...I hope you understand... that I'll be taking my time with this one." Ben informed as he pivoted around, his hands holding a baseball bat.

Outside, everything felt quiet. Only Robert's muffled wails, coming from inside, tainted that peaceful landscape. Eventually, with each swing, Ben's fury melted away, and silence took hold, leaving Robert alone in that living room, with nothing but his thoughts and Emily's dead body to keep him company.

[2.30 a.m]

Sean lay in his bed, his body coiled up into a fetal position, hands bound to the bed's headboard. Ben entered the room, opened the door slowly, and approached the boy. He stopped inches from Sean's feet, staring down at him.

"Is he dead?" Sean asked, his voice weary and gravelly, clearly denoting how long and hard he had been crying.

"Not yet," Ben uttered, sitting at the foot of the bed, his head between his shoulders. His bloodied and bruised hands lay suspended between his legs as he stared at them. "I'm sorry about your mother. I wish...it didn't have to be like this." Ben apologized, aware that his words would never subdue the boy's grief.

There was a long, overbearing yet eerily comfortable silence where the two men shared unspoken words. It was a fracture in time during which they lingered, slowly coming to terms with their inner demons.

"Your mother's journals mentioned you had a tough relationship with him," Ben commented. "I saw the way you brushed him off during dinner." The stud continued. "Did he ever try to touch you...inappropriately?" Ben questioned.

Immediately, the boy's eyes veered away, ashamed. Ben let out a profound sigh.

"Did he ever...?" Ben asked before turning his body over to Sean, his shadow looming over the young man, who shook his head. "Good," Ben said, relieved. "Do you even like guys, Sean?" Ben asked, watching Sean slowly nod, his whole body opening up. At that moment, Ben learned nobody in that house had ever sat down and talked about his feelings or thoughts with that young man. Nobody had ever cared to. "How old are you now?" Ben asked.

"Nineteen," Sean answered.

"Have you ever been intimate with anyone?" Ben continued, his tone softening, becoming fraternal.

"Just sexting online...a couple of times," Sean replied, rolling his body to face Ben.

"You should stay off the fucking internet," Ben advised, almost sarcastically.

Although it was never spoken about, a strange bond was forming between the two. Ben's compassion, momentarily caged by his anger, was slowly returning, and Sean was slowly becoming aware of its presence.

"Did he really do those things?" Sean's voice finally questioned.

"Yes. He did." Ben responded resolutely.

"You're going to kill me too, aren't you?" The boy asked, his blue eyes lifting and facing Ben's.

Ben looked at Sean, almost surprised at how aware the young man was of their grueling situation. The boy was mature and wise beyond his years, slowly revealing his wisdom.

"Yes," Ben replied, every ounce of his heart reluctant to do so. Despite the cruelty forced upon them, Ben's confirmation came with a certain serenity.

"My dad, he..." Sean muttered before Ben cut him off.

"He's not your dad, Sean." The stud corrected. "The person you think your dad is never existed." Ben attempted to explain, reasoning with the boy's last hope that all of it was nothing but a bad dream. "That thing downstairs is a monster." Ben asserted.

Sean's eyes fled to the window and lingered there, lost in thought. Ben stood up and walked to the door before the boy's voice stopped him.

"Is your friend going to be okay?" Sean asked with a certain apprehensiveness in his tone.

Ben's lips stretched, his smile concealed in the dark. He turned around, compelled to face the boy again.

"I believe he will be, yes," Ben answered as he tried to fight back the tears. "Thank you for asking, Sean," Ben said, finally letting the young man witness his vulnerability.

"Ben?" Sean voiced.

"Yeah?" Ben replied.

"I want to ask you a favor, but..." The boy stuttered, his gaze struggling to lock on Ben. Sensing this, Ben stepped forward, pulling the chair from Sean's desk, turning it around, and saddling it. He placed his muscular arms on it and leaned forward. He could see Sean's eyes discretely scanning his muscles.

"It's okay, Sean. I won't judge you." Ben appeased.

"I was thinking...if maybe you'd be willing to..." The boy continued, his voice shaking. "Have sex with me." He muttered.

Ben didn't answer, his expression forbearing and lacking judgment, allowing the boy a safe space to voice his request.

"Why?" Ben questioned.

"I..." Sean uttered before pausing, his eyes glistening with emotion. "I didn't want to die not knowing...what it felt like, you know...to have a man touch me..." He voiced. "Make love to me," Sean added, his voice turning lustful as he gazed at Ben's chest, which imploded with compassion for the boy's plea.

"Are you sure?" Ben challenged his heart, slowly opening up to this sweet, tender young man. Sean nodded, so slowly Ben could see it happening in slow motion. Ben dropped his head, taking a deep breath before finally rising, his eyes scouring for Sean's.

He pulled himself up, dragging the chair back to its original place. He stood there for a while before turning around to face the boy, whose eyes twitched with nervousness. Ben reached for his pocket and pulled out a knife, walking up to Sean's bed and cutting the gaffer tape around his wrists. He felt the boy shiver slightly before his arms came down, tumbling over the mattress.

"Take your clothes off," Ben instructed as he stepped over to the door, locking it.

And there, inside that bedroom, Ben acquainted Sean with the pleasures of consensual love between two men. He let the boy explore his muscular body, gifting him with his endless compassion. He kissed the boy passionately, savoring the freshness and pureness of his breath, still untainted by the viciousness of adult life. He taught the boy about the pleasure of serving a cock and the art of taking one. With infinite grace, Ben worshiped the boy's taint, and with the utmost patience, he groomed his hole to be fucked. And then, as he finally deflowered Sean's rosebud, Ben fucked the boy with the gentleness of a gardener, tending to the most precious of flowers. With each thrust of his cock inside Sean's virgin hole, Ben turned his own wrath into love. His pain into kindness. And in the most generous gesture, he offered the boy everything he wished Ethan had been given.

For two hours, Sean's moans of pleasure echoed across the house, reverberating through the walls, injecting its foundations with love, desire, and bliss. And after two hours of unbridled lovemaking, the boy's wails of pleasure ebbed, finally coming to a stop.

Moments later, two loud gunshots fired inside Sean's bedroom.

[4.30 a.m]

Ben came down the steps to the living room, around the oversized couch, where he sat, his towering, sweaty naked body leaning forward. He turned the lamp next to the sofa, finally exposing Robert's figure, who had posed in the dark this whole time. His face was covered in blood, the entire left side battered, and his left eye barely visible from the bloating. His head was dunked, his right gaze locked on a white baby monitor placed before him on the coffee table. Ben stretched his arm and turned the device off.

"I hope you enjoyed that," Ben said, reclining back on the couch and extending his muscular arms.

"You sick mother fucker..." Robert mumbled, barely any teeth left in his mouth as he coughed blood.

"Ethan had never truly been with a man before you touched him. Neither had your son, apparently..." Ben stated as he stared at Robert's right eye bulging. "Sean was a beautiful young man. I'll give you that, Robert. Nice job. He might have been the only right thing you did in your life." Ben provoked, aware that Sean was the only thing holding Robert to any shred of humanity.

"That was fucking cruel, Ben..." Robert muttered before giggling hysterically. "Fu...cruel." He added before his psychopathic smile completely disappeared, giving room to a blank expression. "I loved him..." He whimpered.

"You didn't love your son, Robert. You loved what he represented. A mirror for you to look at. So you could lie to yourself about how there was still something human inside you." Ben stated. "But we both know the truth," Ben concluded, his words escorting Robert's unbridled chuckles as he slowly renounced his sanity. Ben rose from the couch and walked around the coffee table. "It's time to end this." He said as he grabbed the baseball bat. "Party's over." He announced before striking Robert in the back of the head.

[6 a.m]

A loud ringing sound echoed inside Robert's head like a bomb had just exploded. His eyes began to flare, a murky layer covering them. He couldn't see much, but the distinct sound of a shovel could be heard hovering over him. He tried groping around but soon realized his hands were still tied behind his back and his feet taped. As his blue right eye began to focus, Ben's shadow finally revealed itself, hovering seven feet over him.

"What the..." Robert mumbled, visibly baffled and surprised.

But just as he tried to gather his thoughts, a large dark shadow grazed the corner of his eye, and a clangorous thumping sound exploded next to him. As he rolled his head to the side, his eye flared.

Next to him was a body bag, a few strings of blonde hairs leaking from the half-closed zipper.

"Jesus fuck...you mother fucker..." Robert strenuously grumbled from under his beaten down and bloated face.

Then, the sound of a second bag dragging across the floor, sinking clangorously into the dirt hole, a portion falling over Robert's feet. And it was then, as his blue gaze glanced at the closed bag, that the most growling and anguished cry erupted from his mouth. Like a brief morsel of humanity, a fleeting mirage of water on a barren desert of iniquity.

"My boy..." Robert whimpered. "You killed my boy..." He cried out in between sobs.

"Robert, I played out this moment in my mind for the past two years," Ben said as he shoved the large pile of dirt back into the hole. "Trying to come up with ways to punish you and make you pay for what you did." He continued, his breathing getting flustered from his exertion. Slowly, the hole began to fill up, the body bags now wholly covered, Robert's body submerged up to his chest.

"My..." Robert continued, his voice dying out in misery and pain.

"Believe me. This, right now...This is me at my most merciful." Ben stated, throwing a considerable pile on top of Robert's face, covering it completely.

For over thirty minutes, Ben continued to plug that pit, his body dripping sweat as he finally buried his pain into the ground. And as Robert's muffled wails finally came to a stop, his lungs succumbing to the weight of his own grave, the most breathtaking sunrise began to ascend on the horizon. Ben glanced at it, bathing in its beauty, tears falling down his face as he realized Ethan's eyes gazed back at him inside it. His chest expanded, stumbling momentarily with overwhelming emotion.

It was time to return home.

[7 a.m]

Ben's car stopped slowly just in front of a rural, beaten-down train station. The stud sat there, his arms stretching over the steering wheel, before he pulled his body back, reclining on his chair and stretching his back. His eyes eventually glanced at the rearview mirror, locking on the back seat.

"Hey, kid. Wake up." Ben called soothingly. Moments later, Sean's head popped up, his beautiful blue eyes slightly bloated as if he had been sleeping for a while. "We're here," Ben announced.

Sean glanced around, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the morning light. Then he turned his head and let it fall over the front seat, his tender eyes locked on Ben.

"So, what now?" The boy questioned.

Ben reached for a bag on the seat next to him and passed it on to Sean, who grabbed it, his eyes scanning it.

"This is all the money he had stashed inside the safe," Ben informed.

"How much is it?" Sean asked.

"Enough to get you anywhere you want," Ben replied before pausing, his eyes on the rearview mirror as he stared at the boy. Don't travel by plane. And keep depositing that cash—small amounts at a time," he directed. He could see the boy's eyes scouring him, an endearing innocence attached.

"Can I ask you something?" Sean muttered.

"Sure," Ben replied.

"Why didn't you kill me?" The boy questioned.

Ben paused, his head turning to the side as he scanned the train that entered the boarding platform, waiting for the clangorous bluster to subside.

"Because it's not your fault. And you shouldn't be punished for what he was." Ben said categorically.

Sean's eyes lingered on Ben's words before he finally pulled back, grabbing the bag and hopping out of the car. He stumbled on the sidewalk, waiting for a speeding vehicle to drive by. But as he finally readied to cross the road, Ben's voice stopped him.

"Sean!" Ben hollered from inside the car. The boy looked back, swinging the bag onto his shoulder. He went around the front of the car and stood before Ben's window, who brought it down.

"I hope one day you can forgive me for what I did. And I don't expect you to understand...but believe me when I tell you: your father had it coming." Ben stated, measuring every word. "Once you get inside that train, you'll start thinking about what happened tonight. And whatever you're feeling now may change and evolve. So when that happens, and if you ever feel sore or angry about it...I'll be waiting." Ben vowed, facing the boy's eyes.

Sean lingered there, his mesmerizing blue gaze scanning every inch of Ben's countenance, the last sparkle of their fleeting intimacy unveiled. Suddenly, Sean leaned forward, kissing Ben's lips softly before pulling back and rushing off, sprinting across the sidewalk, over the street, and disappearing inside the train station. Ben sat inside the car, a gentle smile on his lips as he acknowledged the significance of that kiss. Sean's grace was just as strong as Ben's compassion.

Despite the pain he had yet to face, the boy had already forgiven him.

[5 days later]

Ben turned the key on the front door, and as it unfurled, he instantly felt the scent of Ethan's body all over the house. He stepped inside, jolted by the quietness he felt. The flight had landed relatively early, and it was still dark outside. The place dipped into a soothing slumber. Ben let his bags drop on the floor, taking a deep breath.

He took his jacket off, tossed it on the coat hanger to his right, and started walking up the stairs. The closer he got to his room, the faster his heartbeat pulsed. He had never been so nervous in his entire life. As his feet reached the door, he stretched his hand, pushing it open.

Even in the darkness, he could already see it. Ethan's beautiful naked body sleeping peacefully over the bed, belly down, one of his legs raised, exposing his smooth ass and muscular thighs.

Ben turned, walking over to the chair by the window and pulling his shirt off slowly. Then he unlocked his belt, letting his pants drop over the carpet, numbing the sound. He stood there in his undies before finally turning around. As he did, his body jolted back slightly. Ethan was sitting at the edge of the bed, his golden eyes gazing up at Ben. They didn't say anything, but Ben could feel, with every fiber of his being, just how relieved Ethan was to see him.

"Is it done?" Ethan questioned, his voice soothing and benevolent.

Ben nodded, feeling his chest tighten, his tears boiling up. Ethan stretched his arms, and without a pause, Ben rushed forward, his body tumbling down at Ethan's feet. He kneeled at the edge of the bed, his head inside his lover's lap.

And just like that, Ben's pain began to pour out. This time, in colossal surges. The stud sobbed, enveloped by Ethan's comforting embrace, his tears cleansing his sins, ushering him away from the darkness that had taken his heart hostage. Ethan pulled Ben's body into the bed, laying him sideways, spooning the Latin stud like a sponge.

"It's okay," Ethan whispered. "It's over now. It's over, Ben." The blonde continued to whisper.

Slowly but surely, his voice penetrated Ben's soul, coating it with a divine layer of unconditional devotion. And it wasn't long before Ben finally fell into a deep slumber that lasted two days.

[Two days later]

"Open your eyes." Ethan's voice whispered, his breath coating Ben's face as it woke. As his eyes spread, Ethan's smile was waiting for him. He immediately smiled back.

"Shit, how long was I out?" The stud asked.

"I had to check if you were breathing a couple of times." Ethan joked, making Ben chuckle. "Are you hungry?" Ethan asked. Ben looked at him and shrugged before his eyes began scanning Ethan's naked body. "I see." The blonde muttered, smiling.

He stood up and walked to the window, opening the blinds just enough to let some light inside. Ben watched, smiling as Ethan's butt cheeks moved graciously inside his white undies, peeking indiscreetly from under them. The blonde hunk looked back and smirked before pulling them down. Inside the bed, Ben's cock twitched, lifting the sheets slightly. Catching this, Ethan walked to the bed, grabbed the sheet, and yanked it, unveiling Ben's towering figure and stiff, veiny cock. The blonde smiled, climbed on the bed, and threw one leg over Ben's head, saddling him, his perfect peach now in front of Ben's mouth.

"Why don't you munch on that, then?" Ethan suggested, wiggling his cheeks playfully.

A jolt of adrenaline fired from Ben's pelvis right into his chest. Ben thought that if happiness could be defined in one moment, that was it. He lifted his arms and slapped Ethan's ass vigorously, spreading the sound across the room. Then, he pushed his neck forward, tongue already stretched, and glazed it continuously from the blonde's balls all the way into his pink hole, stopping there. He pulled back and spit on it, diving back in with complete vulnerability, slurping eagerly on it. Ethan snapped his head back, his blonde hair whipping about as he moaned.

"Fuck, I missed that." Ethan soughed.

"Yeah?" Ben questioned, his tongue still stuffed inside Ethan's sphincter.

"Fuck, yes." The blonde replied without a pause. Ben slapped Ethan's ass again, his hand now imprinted on the blonde's cheek, ushering these lustful growls out of his mouth. "Holy shit, look at that!" Ethan clamored as he finally glanced down at Ben's cock.

It seemed huge. Gargantuan. An 8.5-inch veiny meat roll, oozing with precum that drizzled uncontrollably from the tip, exuding the most intoxicating smell.

While Ben's tongue feasted on his hole, Ethan lunged his mouth down, sucking on Ben's glistening cock, licking every ounce of sheer juice on its surface before his mouth dove down, swallowing all of it. He let Ben's shaft sink into his mouth, his lips stretching slowly as his tongue worked inside, sliding sensually over Ben's foreskin, moistening it.

"Fuck, Ethan." Ben blurted, pulling back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

But the blonde took charge, bringing his right arm back, grabbing Ben's head, and shoving the stud's mouth inside his hole again. Suddenly, both men began to moan, a perfectly coordinated melody. Ben's were rough, drizzled with heavy breathing, while Ethan's were soft, submissive, and sprinkled with slurping sounds. Ben's arms swathed around Ethan's hips, crossing just inches from his ass, pinning the blonde to him, allowing him to drive his tongue deeper inside his lover's hole.

"You taste so fucking good," Ben uttered, entirely consumed by lust. Inadvertently, his hips began thrusting up, shoving his cock even deeper inside Ethan's mouth. Soon, both ends of Ben's body were working together to satisfy Ethan's hunger. But the taste of the blonde's hole, coupled with the feeling of his soft mouth wrapped around Ben's cock was proving to be too much, and it wasn't long before the Latin stud's voice broke from under their latched bodies. "Ethan, wait...I..." Ben announced, his cum firing inside the blonde's mouth indiscriminately.

But as far as Ethan's mouth was concerned, there was no surprise. He was taking each shot of Ben's protein like a champion, swallowing it slowly, purposely restricting his throat movement to usher every drop of Ben's cum out of his throbbing cock. A technique so overwhelming that Ben felt compelled to pull his tongue out of Ethan's hole just so he could focus on the mindblowing sensation he was being gifted with. As the high subsided, his eyes came forward, glistening at the image of Ethan's hole puckering at him.

Then suddenly, Ethan's body lifted from Ben's chest, rolling over him and coming down again, the blonde now facing Ben, his legs still saddling the stud.

"Sorry..." Ben apologized, chuckling slightly.

"Shhh...We're not done," Ethan said, his golden gaze vibrating with exuberant, sensual vitality. Instinctively, Ben's arms came up, hoping to grab the blonde's skin. But Ethan stopped him. "No," he warned. "Put your hands behind your head," he requested.

Ben obliged, his arms crossing under his neck, his biceps protruding through his cinnamon skin. Ben's chest filled up before unleashing a long puff of hair. Suddenly, he giggled, surprised to feel his dick still hard. In fact, it felt stiffer than before. Ethan was performing these strange and understated moves with his hips, brushing his moist cheeks against Ben's shaft, teasing it.

"Ethan..." Ben stuttered.

"Just focus on me," Ethan ordered. Ben nodded submissively. Ethan was in charge now. He was the one in control.

The blonde opened his palm, spitting inside it. Then he took his hand behind his back and began rubbing it on Ben's dick. The stud's pelvis jerked and trembled, his sensitivity heightened. Ethan lifted his ass just enough to let Ben's cock fall under it, and without ever using his hands, he pulled his hips back and slid the stud's cock inside him effortlessly. Ben's eyes closed in rapture, his teeth clenching with pleasure. Ethan's head fell back, and his mouth gaped in awe of Ben's manhood. The Latin stud opened his eyes and glanced up at Ethan, watching as his lover masterfully rode his cock. Ethan's hands began to crawl up by the sides of his body, brushing against his skin, along his chest, and into his neck before halting. It was like watching a snake extend its body before striking. Ben's eyes glistened with marvel at Ethan's figure. The one of a man who had conquered his sexuality, standing at the peak of his carnal supremacy.

"You're so beautiful," Ben said, unleashing Ethan's smile, which radiated a glorious light into the room.

"Ben..." Ethan moaned, his eyes on the ceiling. "I want you to remember this moment." The blonde continued, his pelvis brushing along Ben's abdomen, his hard cock hovering over the Latin stud's hairy chest. "I want you to remember how good this feels..." Ethan stuttered, his emotion catching up to him. His hip movements were getting faster, his hole fucking Ben's cock with polish and passion. "So that...if you ever feel yourself slipping into that darkness again..." He continued as he rode the stud's dick, clutching his inner walls to it. "You'll know that you'll always have this to return to," Ethan concluded.

Ben's mouth hovered open. His spirit shook to the core. He never thought it possible, but Ethan uncovered a deeper part of Ben's love for him. This man, whom he had saved from a bottomless pit of glory, was now bestowing upon him the same gift. Ethan was saving Ben from his darkness with the only thing he had to offer: his love.

"Ethan..." Ben uttered.

"Touch me, Ben. Hold me." Ethan pleaded.

Ben's body shot forward, his back lifting from the mattress as his arms opened to receive Ethan. His hands circled his lover, pressing their bodies together. His face now rested on the blonde's smooth chest as he continued to fuck Ben, his whole body now rocketing back and forth in gentle movements like small ripples in still water.

"I love you, Ethan." Ben professed as he brushed his nose against Ethan's skin, reveling in his favorite scent.

"I love you too, Ben. So much..." The blonde stuttered, his pelvis contracting, feeling his dick unload into Ben's stomach. As he did, his inner muscles clenched. "You're the fucking love of my life." He whispered before he felt Ben's orgasm explode inside him.

The two lovers remained carousing in that almost divinely celestial occurrence, a cleansing ritual they had just obliviously performed.

After so many days of shared pain, anger, loss, and sadness, Benjamin and Ethan's hearts merged permanently, their bond eternally imperishable. They exchanged vows and proclaimed their love for each other, engraving it in their bodies, souls, and the fabric of time. And from that moment, symbolizing the cessation of so much darkness, the most blinding, benign light was born. One of love, healing, and hope.

[15 years later]

Ethan entered the room, leaning his body under the doorway. Slightly older but still incredibly stunning.

"You look so beautiful," Ethan said, gazing at Lory as she stood in front of the mirror, tilting her head from one side to the other and modeling a form-fitting white cocktail dress.

"I don't know...might make some changes," Lory said, shrugging.

"It's not like the wedding's tomorrow. There's still one month to go," Ethan argued, calming his daughter's jitters. "Is your mother coming this weekend?" he questioned.

"Yeah. She'll be here tomorrow," Lory informed.

"He's she bringing him along?" Ethan asked, causing Lory to chuckle.

"Yes," she replied between giggles. I know, I know. He annoys me, too. But she likes him, so..." she said, facing Ethan. "Try to be nice," she pleaded.

"Fine." Ethan conceded reluctantly.

Lory stood there gazing at her father. Then she walked up to him and hugged his neck.

"I love you, daddy." She stated.

"I love you more," Ethan replied.

She pulled away and rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Ethan turned and looked out the large and wide window, framing the most beautiful sea line, where a stunning sunset prepared to settle peacefully. They had bought their dream home. A 200-square-meter beach house near the coastline.

"Qué estás pensando?" Ben questioned, his towering shadow looming over the doorway.

"We're getting old," Ethan mumbled.

"Speak for yourself, I look fucking great." Ben countered, walking over to Ethan.

"Your belly might disagree." Ethan teased, glancing at Ben's now paunchy belly.

"It's okay. Your favorite thing in the world is hanging under it, anyway." Ben joked, making both men chuckle.

"True." Ethan conceded, his hand sliding inside inside Ben's pants, stroking his fat cock. He could feel his palm getting sticky with precum.

"I just showered." Ben groaned, their lips already engaging, breaths merging.

"I like you better when you're dirty," Ethan whispered into Ben's mouth, his tongue licking the Latin stud's warm lips.

"Hey, guys?" A young man enthusiastically uttered as he reached the unrestricted bedroom door. "Fuck, I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed, turning around and looking positively mortified.

"Hey, Daniel." Ethan greeted, pulling his hand out of Ben's crotch as they both turned around.

"Lory's asking for the car keys?" Daniel questioned.

"Are you driving?" Ben mocked, trying his best to make Daniel uncomfortable. Something about his presence intimidated the young man.

"Hum...no." Daniel stuttered, trying to avoid Ben's gaze.

"It's the top drawer in the kitchen, next to the sink," Ben informed them. Daniel threw an awkward smile at them and rushed down the stairs. As he reached the hallway, Ben started laughing.

"I think he's afraid of you," Ethan commented, trying to hold his laughter in.

"Good," Ben replied, turning to Ethan and kissing him. He lingered, their lips barely apart. "I love you, you know that?" Ben whispered, his tenderness unleashed by Ethan's smile. The blonde nodded, walking to the door. But not before Ben's hand came down and slapped his still-perfect ass.

They walked downstairs just in time to catch Lory and Daniel walking out the door.

"Do you two have any plans?" Lory asked as she grabbed her purse and Ben's car keys.

"Yeah," Ben stated, discreetly sliding his hand inside Ethan's shorts and squeezing his smooth ass. "We got plans." He teased, winking at Ethan.

"Love you, guys." Lory sounded, walking out the door.

"Later, baby girl!" Ben hollered, his finger now sliding inside Ethan's cheeks.

Outside, Lory and Daniel strolled over to Ben's car, hopping inside.

"Their relationship is so...intense. It's intimidating." Daniel commented as he put on his seatbelt, watching Ben and Ethan's backs as they walked up to the sunbeds on their terrace and lay on them.

"We should be so lucky to feel even a fraction of what they have together," Lory replied.

"What do you mean?" Daniel questioned, captivated.

Lory paused, her eyes on the terrace facing the ocean.

"Those two...they went through the most unimaginable hell—stuff from which nightmares are made. Yet, against all odds, they managed to crawl out of it and find their way back to each other," Lory stated as she turned the key in the ignition. "That's love," she professed with pride before driving off.

In the distance, Ben and Ethan's arms stretched out of the sunbeds, their hands and fingers playfully teasing each other in an enchanted, lustful dance.

 

THE END