"He Knows"
Caleb stirred, his gaze immediately locking onto Ryan's empty bed beside him. Outside, the darkness prevailed, no light seeping through the window to disturb the night's cloak. It hadn't even crossed his mind how naturally he had sought the double bedroom and not his father's room as a sanctuary after coming up the stairs. And how could he not? The thought of nestling next to his father after what he had witnessed in the cabin's living room mere moments ago was enough to turn his stomach inside out. And despite his best efforts, which had crossed his mind despite himself, he couldn't.
As Caleb drifted off in and out of a shallow slumber, Nate and Ryan made their way upstairs. The creaking of Nate's king-size bed continued unabated, its headboard pounding against the wall in time with Nate's frenzied rhythm. Ryan's moans had lost some of their initial fervor, but they were still present, a steady, somewhat exhausted murmur of pleasure and pain intertwined. Caleb occasionally heard his father's sturdy frame propel itself off the bed and shuffle towards the bathroom for a quick clean-up before returning for more. A brief tussle would ensue, no doubt a result of Ryan trying to disentangle himself from Nate's grasp, begging for a break. But it only lasted a few seconds before the bed sprigs would resume their thrusting motion once again, and a faint moan would echo, signaling Ryan's surrender.
And then, it would start all over again.
Nate was insatiable, it seemed. He had been plundering Ryan's ass with relentless determination. Caleb couldn't help but admire or envy his father's stamina. And, by extension, Ryan's, who had been tirelessly enduring hours of penetration with barely a pause in between.
As he mulled over these unwanted and highly technical details, Caleb would suddenly be jolted back to reality, the reason for his predicament, and his body would recoil, curling into a fetal position under the covers. His arms would find refuge between his legs, but he would freeze as they encountered the stiffness between them. It was still erect and unyielding despite its struggle to recede into oblivion as Caleb grappled with his disgust and insidious thoughts. Feelings his mind wasn't ready to face. No matter how much his body disagreed.
"Fuck..." Ryan's voice moaned, an octave higher than it had been for hours. As soon as he did, Nate's thrusts sped up. His hips slammed into Ryan's ass with renewed vigor, the flesh on flesh sound echoing through the room.
Caleb's cock immediately twitched, springing loose from inside his thighs like a slingshot. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" he whispered to himself before his bladder screamed at him. "Fuck..." he muttered, dragging his body out of bed like a sloth and walking to the door. He opened it slowly, eyes closing in prayer that his mid-evening trip to the bathroom would go unnoticed. But as he flared the door open, he quickly realized that would likely not be the case. From Nate's bedroom, only a few feet away, groans and moans scaled in size and intensity almost immediately. The closed-door had blocked most of it, but they were now blazingly clear. And as soon as Caleb stepped out into the small corridor from behind the half-closed door of Nate's bedroom, Ryan's voice uttered.
"Oh my God..." the boy whined. "Dude... you're..." he continued, the headboard's thumping rising. "...going so deep," he cried out.
Caleb's body collapsed into the wall next to him, his body sliding across it as he tried to make his way into the bathroom at the end of the hallway. But he'd have to cross his father's bedroom door to do so. His hands dug into the wallpaper, scratching their way through the haziness he was still submerged in. The closer he got, the more resounding Nate and Ryan's noises became, and soon Caleb was right back where he started, a bystander, entrapped inside a nightmare of wanting to flee yet unable to resist the temptation to sneak a peek. His green eyes slowly unfurled and darted at the door.
"Wait...fuck!" Ryan gasped, his voice husky and gravely, exuding countless hours of paralyzing pleasure. "I...I need a break..." he pleaded, his words met only by the increase in Nate's thrusts.
"Shhh..." the hunk silenced, his voice low, unrecognizable. "Not yet," Nate warned, the slapping sound of his hips pistoning into Ryan's hole growing louder.
Caleb hesitated, his form melting into the shadows as he navigated the narrow corridor. However, upon reaching Nate's door, he halted, his gaze sneaking past the doorknob and the minor breach. Ryan's legs trembled, his smooth feet swaying mid-air. Nate's back faced the door, his colossal V-shaped frame moving with inhuman speed as his powerful ass clenched tight, thrusting his engorged cock into Ryan's body with relentless fervor. Caleb couldn't resist his feet from gravitating closer. His hands stretched forward until they finally grasped the doorway. He mustered all the strength he could to hold his breath in. Even more humiliating than admitting to himself he wanted nothing more than to watch was the thought of getting caught by his father peeking inside his bedroom as he fucked his stepson. But the corridor was pitch black, Caleb thought. There was no way they'd see him. No way he'd get caught.
He held his hand against the door, preparing to push it open, when Nate's voice halted him.
"I'm gonna come," the hunk warned, his voice dropping to a husky growl as he thrust harder into Ryan.
Caleb froze, his eyes fluttering in trepidation.
"Fuck yeah...come in my ass..." Ryan pleaded. "Give me that load, Daddy," he demanded with urgency.
Caleb could feel the bile rise at the words. He turned around and tumbled forward, hand over his mouth. Nate's primal roar came next as he erupted inside Ryan's hole. The sound was feral, unrestrained. But for the first time, welcomed. Caleb used it as a smokescreen to dash towards the bathroom unnoticed, sliding inside and slamming the door shut before collapsing head-first over the toilet. As his knees hit the floor, the image of his father's thick load filling Ryan's guts flashed before his eyes, causing his cock to twitch slightly. Just as it did, Caleb's neck propelled forward, and he threw up into the toilet with visceral intensity.
Try as he might, Caleb couldn't numb down the noise. It roared inside his head, sharp-edged, slicing through his mind like shards of broken glass. And it wasn't just in his head, it was visceral, vibrating through his chest, churning in his gut, crawling beneath his skin like something alive and malevolent.
It was only a matter of minutes before the bathroom reeked of bile and sweat. Caleb clung to the cold porcelain, his fingers trembling as they dug into its smooth surface. His body convulsed with another dry heave, every muscle straining as though being wrung out by an invisible hand. Each retch left him weaker, gasping for air that seemed to mock him with its refusal to bring relief.
The faucet dripped steadily, plip, plip, plip, like a cruel metronome. He hadn't turned it off completely when he splashed water on his face earlier. He wanted to scream, needed to, but even that felt like too much effort. Instead, he let out a low, guttural groan that sounded foreign to his own ears. His throat burned from the bile he'd already expelled, leaving behind a bitter taste he couldn't shake.
He pressed his forehead against the cool rim of the toilet bowl, desperate for it to anchor him somehow. But it didn't help. Nothing helped. The noise was still there, louder than ever.
And then suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching down the hallway. He froze, every nerve in his body on edge as he listened intently. The footsteps were deliberate, measured, but unhurried, and each one sent a fresh wave of dread coursing through him. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that stars burst behind his eyelids. Maybe if he stayed silent long enough, whoever it was would just keep walking.
But luck wasn't on his side tonight.
A knock came at the door, firm and deliberate, shattering any hope that he could be left alone in peace.
"Caleb?" Nate's voice was low, but an undertone of concern threaded through it, a softness that made Caleb's stomach churn again.
No. Not now. Not him.
Caleb's grip on the edge of the toilet tightened until his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched so hard that a sharp ache shot into his temples. "Leave me alone!" he shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking under the strain.
There was a pause on the other side of the door, just long enough for Caleb to hope his father might actually listen, but then came another knock.
"Caleb," Nate said again, more insistent this time but still measured like he was trying not to spook a skittish animal. "Open the door."
The command hit Caleb like a spark to dry tinder. His rage flared hot and fast, scorching away any remnants of composure he might have had left. He slammed a fist against the bathroom wall, not hard enough to hurt himself but enough to vent some of the anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface.
"I said leave me alone!" he screamed again, this time with more force behind it.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Caleb's breaths came fast and shallow as he slumped against the wall opposite the toilet. His head drooped forward until his chin rested against his chest, and for a fleeting second, he wished he could just disappear entirely.
Then Nate spoke again, but something was different this time. His voice wavered ever so slightly at first before softening into something raw and familiar.
"Hey…kiddo…open up."
The word "kiddo" hit Caleb like a slap across the face. His head snapped up involuntarily as fresh waves of nausea rolled through him. Kiddo? Kiddo?! How dare he use that word now, like everything was fine between them? Like nothing had happened?
His stomach twisted violently in protest at the thought, and without warning, he lunged forward over the toilet bowl again. Acidic bile burned its way up his throat as tears stung at the corners of his eyes, not from crying but from sheer physical exhaustion.
Nate waited silently but unmistakably present on the other side of the door. Caleb could feel him there as surely as if they were standing face-to-face. And then another voice cut through, a sharp contrast to Nate's measured patience: mocking and cruel.
"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you holding his head while he pukes," Ryan called out from somewhere farther down the hallway. His tone dripped with derision as though this entire situation were nothing more than an inconvenience or a joke at Caleb's expense.
Caleb's head shot up at Ryan's words. Hot anger surged through him like lava bubbling just beneath a fragile rock.
"Stay out of this," Nate snapped sharply over his shoulder, a rare edge creeping into his usually composed tone.
But Ryan didn't know when to quit, or maybe he just didn't care. "And you wonder why he's such a spoiled little brat," he taunted smugly.
That was all it took for Nate's patience to snap like an overstretched rubber band.
"Get back inside that fucking room!" Nate barked loud enough for Caleb to hear every syllable reverberating off both walls and floor tiles, a thunderous crackle that left no room for argument.
Ryan hesitated for only half a beat before retreating begrudgingly. Caleb could hear each of his reluctant steps fading away until they disappeared altogether.
After a few moments of strained silence, Caleb thought he heard the soft, wearied sound of Nate sighing. It wasn't the angry, sharp exhale he'd half-expected, but something deeper, heavier, like the release of a burden too long carried. Then came the faint creak of floorboards and the measured rhythm of footsteps retreating down the hallway.
It left Caleb suspended in a strange limbo. Relief should've come rushing in, but there was only a hollow ache in its place. Alone now, he pressed his palms into the cool edge of the bathroom sink, his knuckles whitening as if gripping it would ground him somehow. He stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror, his face a pale blur, and couldn't decide if it was better that way.
With a shuddering breath, he straightened up and stepped into the shower. The water hit his skin in sharp, staccato bursts, each drop cold and biting before turning scalding hot as it soaked into him. It felt like needles at first, tiny pricks that forced him to focus on something tangible, something outside of his own mind. He stood motionless beneath the spray, letting it cascade over him, washing away the sweat that clung to his back and chest, the sour bile that still lingered at the back of his throat, and the tears that spilled freely now. He didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point?
"I need to get out of here," he whispered hoarsely to himself. The words felt foreign on his tongue, half-formed and weightless, but saying them aloud made them real. Real enough to cling to.
He didn't know where he'd go or how he'd even manage it, but one thing was clear: he couldn't stay there. Not like this. Not in a house where every breath felt like inhaling glass shards, where every interaction with his father swung wildly between fleeting comfort and unbearable tension.
The minutes stretched on as he stood there under the stream of water until it ran tepid against his skin. Only then did Caleb move, stepping out of the shower and blindly grabbing a towel. The fabric scratched against his damp skin as he wrapped it tightly around his waist. His fingers trembled, not from cold but from something far deeper, as he reached for the door handle.
The bathroom door creaked softly as it opened, and Caleb instinctively froze mid-step, poking just his head into the hallway. The faint hum of movement from Nate's room still lingered, a rustle here, a creak there, but it had dulled into background noise. He couldn't tell what they were doing behind that door anymore, nor did he care enough to find out.
He moved quickly, his damp feet slapping softly against the wooden floor as he darted across the hall toward his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him with more force than he intended, reverberating through the silence like a gunshot.
His eyes scanned the room almost frantically until they landed on his backpack slumped against the wall where he'd tossed it earlier in haste. It sat there untouched, exactly as he'd left it, a silent invitation now beckoning him closer. His breaths came faster as he crossed the room quickly, dropping to his knees beside it.
"Okay," he muttered under his breath as if steeling himself for battle. "Okay."
The zipper rasped loudly as he yanked it open with shaking hands. His phone went in first, tossed onto the bag's bottom without ceremony, followed by his earbuds. Clothing followed next: shirts crumpled haphazardly into fists before being shoved inside, and jeans folded just enough to make them fit without spilling over the sides.
Each movement grew more fevered until it felt less like packing and more like tearing apart pieces of himself just to leave them behind. Every inch of that forsaken house felt poisoned, its walls steeped in tension so thick it clung like smoke no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.
"What are you doing?"
The voice cut through Caleb's frantic haze, a low rumble that carried both curiosity and accusation in equal measure.
Caleb's head snapped around so fast it left him dizzy for a moment. Standing in the doorway was Nate, his broad frame filling up most of the space as if daring Caleb to try squeezing past him unnoticed. His arms were crossed over his chest in that familiar way that always made him seem larger than life, but his eyes, sharp and unyielding, pinned Caleb where he knelt.
"Jesus Christ," Caleb hissed sharply, panic lacing every syllable as he scrambled to his feet. "What are you doing in here?"
Nate leaned casually against the doorframe as though this confrontation were nothing more than idle curiosity on a lazy afternoon rather than what it truly was, a collision waiting to happen. His gaze flicked briefly toward Caleb's half-packed bag before snapping back up again with laser precision.
"I could ask you the same thing," Nate said evenly, though there was an edge beneath his tone, a quiet warning wrapped in feigned nonchalance.
Caleb turned away, rummaging through his bag to avoid meeting his father's eyes. "Get out. I need to get dressed," he said tersely, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from his half-packed belongings.
"It's okay," Nate replied nonchalantly, his voice steady. "I'll wait," the hunk calmly stated.
The words sent a fresh wave of irritation surging through Caleb. His hands trembled as he balled the fabric in his fists, refusing to look at Nate. But in the same breath, he felt suddenly compelled to turn back, their gazes meeting. "Fine," the boy said, yanking his towel away from his waist, eyes locked on his father's. He could see Nate struggling not to look down, his deep eyes battling with all their might not to indulge in the sight of his son's naked body. "What?" he started, his voice sharp, before cutting himself off with a bitter laugh. "It's not like you haven't seen it before," Caleb punched through the room, a sudden defiance growing in his voice as he grabbed his undies and slipped them on, his hands adjusting his bulge slightly. He grabbed his sweatpants and threw them on next.
Nate stood firm, seemingly unshakeable. Yet Caleb sensed a profound shift in the air around them. He'd always thought he understood his father's every nuance, depending on that knowledge like a warm blanket against life's chaos. Nate had been Caleb's refuge, his cocoon. But now, face-to-face with him, he felt an unsettling tremor ripple through him. It was like teetering at the brink of a vast abyss, nothing in front but an inky black void, beckoning him with truths he feared to confront yet yearned to discover.
Nate stepped forward.
"Don't," Caleb snapped. "Don't come closer." His voice trembled with an edge of desperation, but Nate didn't stop.
"I get it," Nate began softly, his tone meant to soothe. "You're upset. Let's just..."
"Upset?!" Caleb's voice rose, his fists tightening at his sides. "Did you hit your head or something?" he continued, his voice screeching with disbelief at this point.
Nate paused mid-step. "You're right. Last night...things just...got out of hand. I...I overreacted," Nate stated.
Caleb let out a sharp, bitter laugh, barely masking his anger. "Oh my god..." he muttered, his voice trembling. "Who the fuck are you?"
Nate stepped closer. "Caleb..."
"Don't touch me!" Caleb screamed, his voice cracking as his fists shot out, landing against Nate's chest with a dull thud.
Nate didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stood there, solid and unmoving, his face calm even as Caleb's fists rained down on him.
"You fucking, cheating traitor!" Caleb shouted, his blows growing more frantic, more desperate. "How could you do that? Just let him weasel his way in," he continued. Each word was punctuated with a strike, Caleb's punches growing weaker as tears blurred his vision. Nate stayed silent, his body absorbing every hit without resistance, without retaliation. "Hit me back, you sick mother fucker!" he yelled, his voice breaking as he struck Nate's chest again and again. "Do it! I bet you want to," he provoked before his words dissolved into a sob, his fists falling limply to his sides. He stood there, trembling, his breath ragged and shallow.
He could feel Nate's every breath. That gentle, soothing motion he knew all too well, so it wasn't long before Caleb succumbed, falling into his father's embrace.
"Fuck...I fucking hate you so much," the boy breathed out, hands crawling into his father's hairy chest. His nose dove inside it, Nate's musk-fueled scent taking hold of every cell in his body. "It's like...you're pushing me away...on purpose..." He could feel the hunk's fingers searching his skin, tentatively testing his boundaries. Trying desperately to return to a place they loved dearly. "Don't fuckin' touch me..." Caleb reacted, his voice doing what his body couldn't.
His wrists began to push Nate away, but the more they did, the more Nate's fingers would dive into Caleb's soft skin. And soon, they crawled up the boy's back, stopping on his neck. They lingered there, one hand brushing his son's hair with the most overwhelming tenderness. It was as if the spirit who had always been there and who Caleb knew so well had finally returned to reclaim his father's body.
"I didn't mean to..." Nate tried to say, but the pressure of Caleb's wrists against his chest stopped him.
"Stop...lying to me," Caleb groaned, his voice growing with rage. But in equal measure, his body seemed to grow with it, his movements expanding like a bubble. His head rose, nose trailing along his father's neck, taking in the hunk's sex-heavy stench.
Suddenly, without warning, as if his body had just been possessed by the same force that had taken hold of Nate's body hours ago, Caleb leaped into his father's lap, circling his legs around the hunk's waist. The second their bodies clashed, Caleb felt his father's prick nudge against his crack. One of Nate's hands secured his son's neck while the other came down his back effortlessly, sliding inside Caleb's sweatpants. The hunk's middle finger began to trail his crack, dangerously close to his sphincter, eliciting a reluctant moan to escape Caleb's plump lips.
And just like that, Caleb and Nate finally stood before it. A door that, if opened, would change everything. Irrevocably.
"My boy..." Nate groaned into his son's skin. "My beautiful boy..." he added, his voice lingering on the edge of tears.
And that's when Caleb realized. Something Nate already knew.
That they were each other's prisoner. Hostages to an ever-growing feeling that lurked in the shadows of their intimacy. One that encapsulated everything they had been thought to fear.
An all-consuming lust-fueled, desire-seeking, rapture-dense forbidden eros.
"This is wrong," Caleb moaned, struggling to breathe as he felt his father's mouth kissing his neck.
But Nate was already turning, laying his son's body on the bed like a feather. Every movement was slow and gentle as if he knew he carried the most precious treasure inside his arms. As soon as Caleb's back touched the sheets, his father's mouth was already going south, his unruly beard leaving a red trail, causing the boy's skin to prickle. It stopped, hovering near Caleb's stomach, where the hunk's lips began to plant the softest kisses. They were thought out, deliberate, and charged with intensity and meaning. As if each one were marking Caleb's body as their territory. The boy's hands came down and ran through Nate's thick hair, fingers sliding inside before gripping it.
"Dad...please..." the boy begged.
But Nate was under a spell. Completely and utterly. And yet, every inch of his manhood waited in the wings, raging with hunger, ready to make its move. Waiting for Caleb to finally give his consent.
"Do you want me to stop?" Nate teased, his voice digging into the boy's skin.
Caleb's breath caught in his throat, his neck snapping back ecstatically. He couldn't answer. He didn't have to. He was right where he had always wanted to be.
Sensing his son's trepidation, Nate's hands grabbed the boy's hips and yanked his body to the edge of the bed, throwing Caleb's legs over his broad shoulders. Less than a second later, Caleb felt Nate's fingers pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, exposing his beautiful smooth peach before Nate finally dove forward, burying his massive crotch into the boy's crevice. Caleb's head instinctively came forward to find his father's face, which was already there, waiting for him. Their foreheads bumped, noses brushing gently against each other, their mouths closer than ever. Their breaths mingled, mouths opened, tongues sliding slowly out, ready to finally meet.
Nate's eyes glistened with emotion at the sight of Caleb's vulnerability. "I wanna fuck you so hard, Caleb," the hunk uttered. His eyelids wrestled to close, afraid that if they did, they'd release the tears that hovered inside.
But soon, Nate realized that his confession had punctured Caleb's heart again, resurfacing the memory of his wrongful actions and the inescapable truth they carried.
"Then why did you fuck him?" Caleb asked, stabbing the air with the deadliest silence.
There it was, inside his father's eyes, the reluctance to answer. Or worse, the inability to.
Nate's body slid down, bringing Caleb's legs with it, and soon, his son's feet landed on the floor. Suddenly, shame crept inside the boy, a sense of embarrassment and filtyness.
Caleb barely registered Nate's arm brushing his as he tore himself free of his father's grip. The hand on his arm had been firm, insistent, but Caleb wrenched himself away with a strength born of desperation. His chest heaved, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might scream or sob. He wasn't sure which. Instead, he stumbled back a step, his wide eyes darting to Nate's face before jerking away. His hands shook as he fumbled for his hoodie, which hung limply over the back of a chair. He snatched it up, his movements frantic, almost clumsy, as he shoved his arms through the sleeves and yanked it over his head. The fabric clung to him awkwardly for a moment, twisted and uncooperative, and it only made him angrier at the hoodie, himself, and everything.
His sneakers were by the door, but he didn't bother tying the laces. He jammed his feet into them haphazardly, the heels collapsing under the pressure. His bag sat slumped against the wall beside them, but he didn't even glance at it. All that mattered was getting out. Away.
"Caleb!" Nate called again, his voice rising now.
But Caleb didn't turn back. He bolted for the door like a trapped animal set free. His shoulder clipped the frame on his way out, sending a sharp jolt through him that he barely registered.
The stairs blurred beneath him as he half-ran, half-stumbled down them. When he reached the front door and threw it open, the crisp night air hit him like a slap to the face. The suffocating walls of the house blurred into nothingness behind him, and for just one heartbeat, the world seemed impossibly wide. His feet slipped on the dewy grass as he sprinted across the yard, nearly losing his balance before regaining it with an awkward lurch forward. He rounded the corner of the house without slowing down, his eyes locking onto the shadowy outline of a small shed.
Caleb reached it in seconds, skidding to a halt as he grabbed for the handle. The door groaned in protest as he yanked it open with more force than necessary. But Caleb's eyes zeroed in on what he'd come for: an old bike leaning crookedly against one wall. One tire looked slightly deflated, and the handlebars were wrapped in peeling tape. Caleb hauled it out into the night without hesitation, ignoring how its wheels squeaked in protest.
He swung one leg over and mounted it with a fluidity born of muscle memory. His legs began to pump almost automatically, driving the pedals forward with furious determination. Each rotation felt like an act of defiance, a way to distance himself from everything that had just unraveled inside that house.
The wind whipped against his face as he rode, stinging his cheeks and tugging at strands of hair that escaped from under his hood. The house grew smaller behind him with every furious push of his legs until it disappeared entirely. But no matter how far Caleb went or how fast he pedaled, he couldn't shake Nate's voice from his mind.
"I wanna fuck you so hard, Caleb."
The words gnawed at him like teeth sinking deep into flesh, impossible to ignore or escape. His hands tightened on the handlebars until they ached while tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, already burning from wind exposure.
Only when dawn began creeping over the horizon hours later did Caleb finally start to slow down, out of sheer exhaustion rather than choice. He threw the bike on the ground, leaping onto a dirt path where he finally sat.
And there, Caleb let himself cry. He cried for everything he couldn't put into words, the desire he couldn't name, the love he didn't know how to express, and most of all, the overwhelming fear that the relationship he cherished most was slipping through his fingers like sand.
With tear-streaked eyes still red and swollen, Caleb slowly lifted his head, staring at the sun as it climbed higher into the sky. Minutes bled into hours, or maybe only moments. Caleb couldn't tell. His legs were stiff from sitting too long on the dusty ground, and his tears had dried into faint trails on his cheeks by the time he finally mustered the strength to get up. He turned toward his bike, its familiar frame leaning crookedly on the ground where he'd left it. But as he approached, a groan escaped his lips. The chain dangled loosely off its gears like an unspooled thread, and the front tire sagged pitifully against the earth.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Caleb muttered under his breath. Frustration bubbled up and spilled over as he kicked at the ground, sending a small cloud of dirt puffing into the air around him. He raked a hand through his hair, damp with sweat from heat and exertion.
His eyes darted around instinctively for some solution, for anyone who might magically appear with a spare tire or tools, but there was nothing but an endless dirt road and towering trees stretching out in either direction. With no other option in sight, he sighed heavily and began trudging back to the house, dragging one foot after the other.
The sun bore down mercilessly now. His T-shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin, soaked through with sweat that dripped in beads down his spine. Dust caked onto his legs, leaving him feeling gritty and grimy. He thought about stopping again, turning around, or maybe just sitting on the side of the road until nightfall, but deep down, he knew there was no escaping this.
Running wasn't an option anymore. Maybe Ryan had been right all along, Caleb thought. Maybe he really was just a spoiled little brat, hiding behind distractions because facing reality was too terrifying. He snorted at the idea.
When he finally rounded the last bend in the road and caught sight of the house ahead, Caleb felt like collapsing where he stood. His legs burned with every step up the porch stairs. Even lifting his hand to grasp the doorknob felt like an effort.
When he finally pushed open the door, he was hit by a wave of stale air and lingering scents. The living room was chaos incarnate: the hovering scent of sweat, musk, and cum with empty bottles and ashtrays overflowed onto tables pushed askew from their usual places.
And then there was that couch, the one spot in this whole damn house Caleb couldn't look at without feeling sick to his stomach. His eyes lingered on it despite himself. He could almost see it again: his father's cock ripping through Ryan's hole, his stepbrother's gasping moans filling spaces where silence should've been.
Caleb barked out a sharp laugh, dry and humorless, as he shook his head at how utterly fucked up everything had become. Crossing over to where an abandoned joint teetered precariously on an ashtray's edge, he grabbed it without thinking twice and lit it with shaking hands. "Fuck it," he muttered.
The smoke filled his lungs harshly but numbed everything else just enough for him to sink back onto that couch, the same cursed couch, and stare blankly at nothing while trying not to feel anything at all.
After lingering there for a while, Caleb pushed himself off the sagging couch. The joint still rested between his fingers, its ember glowing faintly like a dying star. He glanced at it briefly, his mind fogged but restless, then moved. He reached the chipped glass ashtray sitting precariously on a cluttered side table and pressed the joint into it. A faint sizzle and smoke curl rose as he stubbed it out. For a moment, he lingered there, staring down at the swirl of gray dissipating into nothingness. His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose before turning away.
The stairs loomed ahead, so he approached them slowly, dragging his hand along the banister as if grounding himself for what was to come. The bassline of the music upstairs pulsed through the walls, low and relentless, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own. At the top of the stairs, Caleb stopped. He stood there momentarily in silence, his breath shallow and measured. The door to his father's bedroom was slightly ajar, just enough for a sliver of golden light to spill out. That light seemed to mock him, bright and warm against the cold void pooling in his stomach.
And then he heard it.
Ryan's voice. Muffled but unmistakable. A low cadence of moans that carried an edge of raw desperation rising and falling in rhythm with the pounding bassline. The sound coiled around Caleb like smoke, suffocating yet impossible to ignore.
He froze mid-breath, his chest tightening as if someone had wrapped an iron band around his ribs. It was a sound he knew all too well now, which should have shocked him but didn't anymore. There was no shock this time. No jolt of disbelief or anger or even sadness. Just a quiet resignation.
Caleb's hand drifted to the door. His palm pressed flat against its surface, feeling the vibrations of the music through the thin wood. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke to himself: "Of course." The words were bitter on his tongue but tasted like truth.
Finally, without hesitation or ceremony, Caleb pushed open the door. The hinges protested softly as the door swung inward, revealing everything he'd expected to see.
On the bed, Nate fucked Ryan.
Caleb's emerald gaze landed on him first. The boy lay on his stomach, his face buried into a pillow, knees drilled into the mattress, with his ass sticking up in the air. He moved back and forth, violently shoved by Nate's powerful thrusts. Around his eyes, one of Nate's dirty socks shielded his view, serving as a blindfold.
"Shit...Nate...fuck," Ryan moaned, his fearless nature a sight to behold. Caleb's eyes narrowed, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of respect for Ryan. That someone would be willing to be that vulnerable, regardless of how he felt about him, was a truly mesmerizing thing to watch.
But Caleb's eyes soon detached from Ryan's, slowly traveling to meet his father's. And as expected, there they were, waiting. And once they met, something beyond their comprehension happened. The music faded into silence, and the lights dimmed until nothing was left in the room but the two of them. Each slap of the hunk's pelvis against Ryan was like a shockwave, plunging them deeper into their trance-like state.
Caleb's body fell slightly esque, his shoulder resting on the doorframe, head tilting to the side. And then, he smiled. Curving his beautifully drawn lips into a thin line. His hand came down, sliding inside his sweatpants, and grabbed his crotch, fingers fondling his hard 7-inch pink shaft.
Nate kept thrusting, each shove a heartbeat shared with his son. Ryan made the slightest motion to lift his head, only to be met by Nate's hand clutching his neck, shoving him down, and forcing his body to disappear beneath him. And as the hunk's eyes remained locked on Caleb, shivering with desire and struggling not to close, he finally began to unload.
Nate wasn't just pumping his load inside Ryan. He was seeding Caleb as well.
A nervous, almost incredulous chuckle broke from Caleb's mouth as he pulled his cock out, beating it furiously as he chased his father's climax. And as Nate's lips unfurled, smiling into his son's soul, Caleb came too. Strings of thick cum began to shoot from his shaft, splattering gently on the floor before him. His body trembled, shivering slightly at the sensation.
Ryan's trembling body collapsed forward, every muscle quivering as Nate's thick cock slid out of his hole, leaving him spent and gasping for air. The blindfold still trapped him, and so, seizing the moment, Caleb quickly tucked his dick back inside his sweatpants. He glanced one last time at the scene before him, Nate on his knees, chest heaving with exertion, a sheen of sweat glistening on his bare skin, before trudging downstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight.
Left alone, Nate remained on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
(One hour later)
Caleb lounged lazily on the porch, his long frame sprawled across one of the sunbeds as though he had melted into it. His skin glistened under the afternoon sun, the slick sheen of sunscreen catching the light with every subtle shift of his body. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes flickered, shutting out the world and sinking fully into the warmth that cradled him.
The screen door creaked open behind him, its hinges groaning with a protest. Caleb didn't bother to turn his head. He recognized the sound of Ryan's footsteps before they even reached the porch steps. There was a deliberate rhythm to them, unhurried yet purposeful, each step dragging slightly as if Ryan knew exactly how to command attention without saying a word. Caleb cracked an eye open, peering through the dark tint of his glasses just in time to see Ryan emerge into full view.
He was wearing little more than confidence, a pair of navy swim trunks that clung to his hips like they had been tailored just for him. His chest glistened faintly with a sheen of sweat, muscles taut and defined. He moved with careless precision, the kind that said he was fully aware of every glance he attracted without needing to acknowledge any of them directly. His gaze swept over Caleb, lingering for a beat too long, not with affection or warmth, but with something sharper.
"Enjoying our little getaway?" Ryan's voice carried over lazily as he stopped next to Caleb's sunbed. The words were casual in tone but laced with amusement like he was already setting up for whatever game he was about to play.
Caleb didn't respond immediately. He adjusted his sunglasses instead, tilting them down just enough to meet Ryan's gaze head-on. "Trying to," he drawled, his voice low and smooth.
Ryan smirked a smug expression that tugged at one corner of his mouth like he couldn't care less about Caleb's complaint. Without another word, he grabbed the nearest sunbed by its metal frame and dragged it across the porch floorboards with a loud screech that made Caleb wince.
"Seriously?" Caleb muttered, sitting up slightly as Ryan plopped down beside him.
Ryan leaned back against the sunbed with exaggerated ease, folding his arms behind his head as if to emphasize just how comfortable he was now that he'd invaded Caleb's space. He closed his eyes and let out an overly dramatic sigh that practically dripped with mockery.
There was a pause before Ryan's eyes caught Caleb looking up at Nate's window under his sunglasses.
"He's taking a nap," he said. "He deserves it. The guy's a fucking machine," he snared. "I can barely sit straight," he provoked before stretching his bare body, eyes locking on a small piece of Nate's cum still clinging to his chest. "Oops, missed a spot," he razzed, brushing his finger over it and taking it to his mouth like a spoon, moaning as he swallowed it. "Morning protein. Super important," he joked, trying to land the cruel joke. But it soon became apparent that Caleb's silence bored something Ryan didn't recognize. A wall he usually climbed with ease was suddenly out of his reach. "What the fuck is with you this morning?" he questioned, a slight desperation in his tone.
Caleb turned the page of his book, his body adjusting slightly before he took a deep breath and sank comfortably into his sunbed. He said nothing, but every inch of his movement was layered with meaning.
Ryan's frustration flamed almost immediately. His upper body shot up as he turned, sitting at the edge of his sunbed, facing Caleb. His blue eyes narrowed, drilling into his stepbrother.
"So you're just gonna sulk like a little bitch?" he drilled, clawing at Caleb's composure. But as he stared intently, Ryan noticed Caleb's lips moving. The slightest tweak in the corner of his lips.
"How does it feel?" Caleb uttered. Ryan's eyes widened his effort not to show his surprise blatantly obvious.
"What...?" he stammered, followed by a sharp, nervous chuckle.
"How does it feel?" Caleb insisted, his tone eerily calm considering.
Ryan's body shot forward, yanking Caleb's book out of his hand. He saddled his stepbrother's waist, legs wrapping around his lean figure. He lingered there, his breath heavy and deep. He slowly pulled Caleb's glasses away from his eyes, their gazes meeting in an explosion of emerald and cerulean.
Ryan leaned forward, his red lips inches from Caleb's. "Couldn't you tell?" he whispered, his breath, now sprinkled with Nate's nut, spewing gently into Caleb's nostrils. "When he fucks you... it's like... he's fucking a part of you didn't even know was there..." Ryan tried to convey. Suddenly, his voice was soft, tender, uncharacteristically subdued. He closed his eyes and began rubbing his nose along Caleb's lips, slowly climbing his way into his cheeks. "And when he comes in you...you feel yourself disappear. It's like you cease to exist...and there's nothing inside you but his cock. Pulsing," he muttered. "Fuck... he's right, you know...?" Ryan added, sniffing Caleb deeply before exhaling again. "You do smell amazing," before finally unfurling his eyelids.
To his surprise, Caleb's expression remained soft, strangely comfortable, considering Ryan's admission. But there was something else. Something else that wasn't there moments ago. Ryan pulled back, his eyes narrowing.
"You didn't answer my question," Caleb repeated, and this time, every word was like a hand slamming loudly on a table, cornering Ryan into a deafening silence. "How does it feel, knowing he's been fucking you for the last year, and every time he did... it was me he was thinking about. I was the one inside his head," Caleb whispered.
Ryan's eyes trembled, Caleb's reflection quivering uncontrollably inside his blue jewels. His chin dropped, and his mouth went slightly ajar in shock.
And before he could even attempt a comeback, which seemed unlikely, Caleb's lips closed in on Ryan's ear. "It's not the first time I smelled his cum on your breath," he whispered before pulling back. As he did, the sound of the deck wood creeping under a heavy weight caused Ryan's eyes to unlock from Caleb.
Nate was there.
Ryan pulled back enough to allow Caleb to slide from under him. Caleb grabbed his book and sunglasses and walked back inside the house, running past his father without even a glance his way. Nate's eyes followed his son into the house until his son's feet disappeared up the stairs. He finally turned around, his gentle expression immediately shifting as he locked on Ryan.
The hunk walked down the steps into the deck, pausing just inches from the sunbed where Ryan sat before the boy finally spoke. "This just got really interesting..." he muttered, his voice lagging in thought.
"What do you mean?" Nate questioned with a frown.
Ryan paused, his blue eyes ascending until his neck bent slightly towards Caleb's window before he uttered with a slight smirk.
"He knows."
(To be continued...)
Casual Wanderer © 2025
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