Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 2: The Morning After – by Aarav Anthem

Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 2: The Morning After – by Aarav Anthem

Ethan woke with a start, his heart hammering in the dim glow of his bedroom. The digital clock on his nightstand read 2:17 AM, its red numbers casting an eerie light across the walls. His mouth tasted of salt and shame, the memory of last night’s encounter in the kitchen searing his mind. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, his body tense as if expecting Marcus to barge in at any moment. The house was silent, but the weight of what had happened pressed down on him like a physical force.

He hated Marcus—hated his cruelty, his arrogance, the way he’d made Ethan’s mother and siblings cower for years. But worse, Ethan hated himself for what he’d done, for how his body had responded to his father’s touch. The image of Marcus standing over him, jeans pooled at his ankles, that massive cock glistening, refused to leave his mind. Ethan’s stomach churned, a mix of revulsion and a darker, undeniable pull. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, but they clung like damp rot.

The day dragged on in a haze. Ethan avoided Marcus, staying in his room or slipping out to the backyard to sketch under the old oak tree. His drawings were chaotic, jagged lines and shadowed figures, a reflection of the storm inside him. Sarah called around noon, her voice tight as she said she’d be staying at Grandma’s for a few days. “Just need some space,” she said, and Ethan wondered if she sensed something was wrong, if his guilt was audible through the phone. Liam and Emma were staying with her, leaving Ethan alone with the man he both despised and craved.

By evening, Ethan’s nerves were frayed. He microwaved leftovers, eating in his room to avoid the kitchen, but the sound of Marcus’s boots on the hardwood floor sent his pulse racing. The man hadn’t said a word about last night, but his presence filled the house like a predator stalking its prey. Ethan tried to focus on his sketchbook, but his hands shook, betraying him.

A soft knock at his door made him flinch. Marcus didn’t wait for an answer, pushing the door open and leaning against the frame. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of worn gym shorts that clung to his thick thighs. His chest gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, the dark hair across his pecs catching the light from the hallway. “Can’t sleep, huh?” Marcus said, his voice low and mocking. “Bet I know why.”

Ethan’s mouth went dry. He sat up, clutching his sketchbook like a shield. “I was thinking about Mom,” he lied, his voice hoarse. “Wondering what she’d say if I told her what you did.”

Marcus’s lips curled into a smirk, his green eyes glinting with amusement. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “That’s cute, Ethan. Real cute. You think you’d tell her? You think you’d admit you got on your knees for your old man?” He scratched his chest absently, his bicep flexing. “Nah, you’re too much of a pussy for that. Besides, you liked it.”

Ethan’s face burned, his fists clenching. “You’re wrong,” he said, but the words felt hollow. Marcus’s gaze was unrelenting, peeling away Ethan’s defenses.

“Am I?” Marcus moved closer, his bare feet silent on the carpet. He stopped at the edge of Ethan’s bed, his shorts tenting slightly. “You’re awake because you’re thinking about this.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, tugging the shorts down just enough to reveal the base of his cock, thick and heavy against his thigh. “Admit it, kid. You want more.”

Ethan shook his head, but his eyes betrayed him, flicking down to Marcus’s groin. “Dad, it’s late. Mom’s down the hall. Just… stop.” His voice wavered, and he cursed himself for sounding weak.

Marcus chuckled, stepping closer until his knees brushed the bed. “Mom’s not here, and you know it. Stop pretending, Ethan. You’re hard just looking at me, aren’t you?” He grabbed his cock through the shorts, squeezing it slowly. “Get over here. You know what to do.”

Ethan’s resolve crumbled, his body moving before his mind could catch up. He slid to the edge of the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for Marcus’s shorts. The fabric was soft, warm from his father’s body, and Ethan pulled them down, freeing Marcus’s cock. It sprang free, already half-hard, the scent of musk and sweat hitting Ethan like a drug.

“Good boy,” Marcus murmured, his hand finding Ethan’s hair, fingers curling tightly. “Open up. Make Daddy feel good.”

Ethan’s lips parted, taking the head into his mouth. The taste was familiar now, salty and rich, and he hated how much he wanted it. Marcus groaned, his hips rocking slightly, pushing deeper. Ethan’s hands gripped Marcus’s thighs, the muscles hard under his fingers, and he sucked slowly, letting the cock slide over his tongue. The room was quiet except for Marcus’s soft breaths and the wet sounds of Ethan’s mouth.

“Fuck, kid,” Marcus said, his voice husky. “You’re a natural. Better than your mom already.” His hand tightened, guiding Ethan’s head, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Ethan’s own cock throbbed in his boxers, a shameful reminder of his complicity. He tried to focus on the act, to block out the guilt, but Marcus’s words kept pulling him back. “You love this, don’t you? My little cocksucker.”

Ethan moaned involuntarily, the vibration making Marcus groan. The man’s thrusts grew deeper, the head brushing the back of Ethan’s throat. Ethan gagged slightly, but Marcus didn’t stop, holding him in place. “Take it,” he growled. “All of it.”

Ethan relaxed his throat, letting Marcus slide deeper, his nose brushing the coarse hair at the base. Marcus’s breathing quickened, his thighs tensing. “Fuck, here it comes,” he said, and a moment later, hot cum flooded Ethan’s mouth. Ethan swallowed, the thick fluid coating his throat, and Marcus kept thrusting, milking every drop.

When it was over, Marcus pulled out, his cock softening but still impressive. He looked down at Ethan, smirking. “Good job, kid. This is gonna be a regular thing now. Your mom’s gonna love the break.” He tugged his shorts up and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ethan sat on the bed, his body trembling, his mouth still tasting of Marcus. He wanted to scream, to run, but he stayed still, his cock still hard in his boxers. He reached down, hating himself, and brought himself to a quick, shameful climax, the release doing nothing to ease the storm inside him. He collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how he’d face the morning—or the man who’d claimed him.

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