Unspoken bonds, Chapter 3: Shadows of home
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Category: College, Authoritarian
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Ruben arrived at his father's house far later than he had intended, so late that the vast home had already fallen silent for the night. His father was undoubtedly asleep, the man's strict schedule allowing no room for late-night distractions. Ruben felt like a thief as he slipped through the heavy front door, closing it quietly behind him. The click of the latch seemed deafening in the stillness. The cold, lifeless halls greeted him with the same indifference they always had. They seemed darker now, almost hollow, as though they had forgotten how to echo the laughter and warmth of his childhood.
His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet as he navigated the familiar yet alien corridors. The house was grand, built to impress rather than comfort, and its size only made him feel smaller. The ornate molding, the pristine furniture, and the polished floors all gleamed under the faint moonlight filtering through tall windows, but they offered no welcome. No memory of joy lingered here--only the faint trace of his father's unyielding presence.
When he finally reached his old bedroom, he hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. The sight that greeted him inside stirred no comfort. The room was untouched, preserved as if waiting for a boy who no longer existed.
Trophies and framed certificates, shining testaments to his achievements, lined the walls and shelves, their gilded edges catching the pale light.
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it off with deliberate motions. The room was cold, the chill in the air biting against his bare skin. His jeans followed, their damp fabric stiff as he tugged them off.
He slipped beneath the navy-blue comforter, the cool sheets brushing against his skin like icy whispers. The sensation sent a shiver rippling through him, and goosebumps traced across his arms. He curled on his side, pulling the covers tightly around him, but the cold still seeped through.
His mind drifted, unbidden, to the train ride earlier. The conductor's gruff voice echoed in his thoughts, sharp and commanding, the way his hand had corrected Ruben's while spaking is ass and making him swallow his cream. It had been unsettling yet oddly electrifying. He could still feel the phantom weight of that touch, a sensation lingering on his ass as if the man's authority had left a mark. It was an emotion Ruben couldn't quite name--a blend of confusion, vulnerability, and something else that stirred faintly in his chest, he felt a drop of precum leaking out.
The memory lingered as his breathing slowed and his mind slipped into the hazy border of wakefulness and dreams, finally pulling him into a fitful, fractured sleep.