Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 5: The Ritual Revealed – by Aarav Anthem

Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 5: The Ritual Revealed – by Aarav Anthem

Ethan’s hands trembled as he stood in Marcus’s study, the door creaking softly behind him. The room was a forbidden space, a shrine to his father’s ego—trophies from his football days, a mahogany desk cluttered with papers, and a locked cabinet Ethan had never dared touch. But tonight, with Marcus out at the bar with Jack, Ethan’s curiosity—or desperation—had won out. He needed answers, something to explain the madness consuming his life since his eighteenth birthday.

The cabinet yielded after a few tugs with a paperclip, revealing a leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed and brittle. Ethan sank into Marcus’s chair, the leather creaking under him, and opened the book. The handwriting was elegant, dated 1893, belonging to a man named Heinrich, a German ancestor Ethan had never heard of. The words were stark, chilling: “The pact is sealed in blood and seed, father to son, generation to generation. Through desire, we are protected; through submission, we endure.”

Ethan’s breath caught as he read on, the journal detailing a ritual born in a Black Forest village, a curse—or blessing—tied to their bloodline. Fathers claimed their sons on their eighteenth year, binding them in acts of lust to ensure prosperity and strength. Refusal meant ruin, madness, or death. Heinrich wrote of his own father, then his son, each entry more explicit, more unapologetic. Ethan’s stomach twisted as he recognized Marcus’s name in a later entry, penned by his grandfather, Richard: “Marcus is strong, eager. The pact holds.”

The floorboards creaked, and Ethan’s head snapped up. Marcus stood in the doorway, his silhouette filling the frame, his green eyes glinting with a mix of anger and amusement. “Snooping, huh?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click, his boots heavy on the hardwood. “Find anything interesting?”

Ethan clutched the journal, his heart pounding. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice shaking. “Some kind of sick family tradition? You’re doing this because of a fucking curse?”

Marcus’s smirk was slow, deliberate. He leaned against the desk, his muscular arms crossing over his chest, his T-shirt straining against his pecs. “Curse, blessing—call it what you want, kid. It’s who we are. Keeps us strong, keeps us safe.” He reached out, plucking the journal from Ethan’s hands and flipping through it casually. “Heinrich was a smart man. Figured out what men need, what sons owe their fathers.”

Ethan stood, his fists clenched. “This is insane. You’re insane. You think this justifies what you’re doing to me? To Mom? To everyone?”

Marcus’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, towering over Ethan. “Justifies? I don’t need justification, Ethan. I’m your father. You’re mine to take.” His hand shot out, gripping Ethan’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You think you’re special, fighting it? Every son does, at first. But you feel it, don’t you? The pull. The need.”

Ethan’s face burned, his body betraying him with a familiar heat. He hated Marcus’s words, hated their truth. The journal’s revelations had only deepened his confusion, the idea of a curse explaining the inexplicable pull toward his father’s dominance. “You’re wrong,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Marcus chuckled, releasing Ethan’s chin and stepping back. He set the journal on the desk and peeled off his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his torso, the dark hair trailing down to his jeans. “Wrong, huh? Then why’re you still here, kid? Why ain’t you running?” He unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and Ethan’s breath hitched.

“Dad, don’t,” Ethan said, his voice barely a whisper. He backed up, his thighs hitting the desk, but Marcus was relentless, closing the distance.

“Don’t what?” Marcus said, his jeans sliding down to reveal his cock, thick and already hardening. “Don’t give you what you’re craving? Don’t show you your place?” He grabbed Ethan’s wrist, pulling him close, their bodies pressed together. Ethan’s resolve crumbled, his hands landing on Marcus’s chest, the warmth of his skin electric.

Marcus’s lips brushed Ethan’s ear, his voice a low growl. “The pact’s real, Ethan. You’re part of it now. Let me show you.” He pushed Ethan down onto the desk, papers scattering, and tugged at Ethan’s jeans, yanking them to his ankles. Ethan’s cock was hard, a shameful truth Marcus noted with a smirk. “See? You’re made for this.”

Ethan’s mind screamed to fight, but his body surrendered, his legs spreading as Marcus’s hands roamed, rough and possessive. Marcus spit into his palm, slicking his cock, and pressed against Ethan’s entrance, the burn intense as he pushed in. Ethan gasped, gripping the desk’s edge, the wood biting into his palms. Marcus moved slowly at first, letting Ethan adjust, then deeper, each thrust claiming more of him.

“Feel that?” Marcus growled, his hips snapping forward. “That’s the pact, kid. Father to son, blood to blood.” His hands gripped Ethan’s hips, pulling him back to meet each thrust, the rhythm relentless. Ethan’s moans filled the room, raw and unbidden, his body arching into Marcus’s touch.

The desk creaked under them, the journal sliding to the floor with a thud. Marcus’s cock hit a spot inside Ethan that made him see stars, and he cried out, his own cock leaking against his belly. “Fuck, Dad,” he gasped, hating himself for the words, for the pleasure.

“That’s it,” Marcus said, his voice rough with lust. “Take it. You’re mine.” His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the study. Ethan’s orgasm built, a tidal wave he couldn’t stop, and he came with a shudder, his cum spilling across his chest. Marcus groaned, his pace faltering, and a moment later, he buried himself deep, his release hot and overwhelming inside Ethan.

They stayed like that, panting, until Marcus pulled out, his cock glistening. He zipped up, smirking down at Ethan, sprawled and spent on the desk. “You’re starting to get it, kid,” he said, picking up the journal and tucking it under his arm. “This ain’t just about us. It’s bigger. You’ll see.”

He left the room, the door clicking shut, and Ethan lay there, his body trembling, his mind reeling. The journal’s words echoed in his head—blood and seed, father to son. He wanted to burn it, to deny it, but the curse felt alive inside him, a dark thread tying him to Marcus, to their ancestors, to a legacy he couldn’t escape. He dressed slowly, his body aching, and stumbled to his room, the weight of the pact heavier than ever.

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