Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keith stepped off the bus, his earphones blasting his favorite tunes as he surveyed the bustling city around him. His broad shoulders and strong frame strained under the weight of several suitcases, his long dark hair pulled into a bun atop his head. Clad in a band t-shirt and dark jeans, he looked every bit the part of a rockstar. The city was a far cry from his hometown, and the excitement of his new life at the university's art department buzzed in his veins.

After a long search for a place to live, Keith's optimism began to wane. The first place he visited was a damp, musty basement that reeked of mold. He didn't even bother to step inside."Well, that was a dungeon," he muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.

The next house was even worse. The door was opened by a guy holding a bong, eyes red and vacant.

"Uh, hi," Keith began.

"Hey, man. You got any snacks?" the guy asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Keith blinked. "Yeah, no. Wrong place," he said, making a hasty exit.

At another house, he was shown an empty, exorbitantly priced apartment. The landlord's dismissive attitude didn't help, and Keith left feeling more frustrated than ever.

Finally, he stumbled upon an ad placed by two students, Lo and Dax. Their house was old but spacious, with four bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room. Keith rang the doorbell, his hopes pinned on this last option.

Lo, a cheerful guy with a welcoming smile, opened the door. "Hey, you must be Keith! Come on in."

Dax, lounging on the couch, gave a nod of approval. "Nice to meet you, man. We're students too. Make yourself at home."

The house, though aged, had a certain charm. The wooden floors creaked underfoot, and the walls were adorned with mismatched paintings and posters. The living room boasted an old, comfy couch and a scratched-up coffee table. It was clear that Lo and Dax had put effort into making the place livable. It became Keith's new home.

A month later, another guy moved in.

Dax gathered everyone in the living room for a chat. "Guys, the new dude is gay. He was kicked out of his family home. Let's be mindful okay? I don't want to hear anyone ask anything stupid."

Lo looked offended, not realising that the warning wasn't directed at him. "Why would we insult him?"

Dax smirked. "I'm mostly referring to mister-rockbar-casual here, who asked that pink haired guy in Art Class if he likes dick."

Lo gaped at Keith, who looked sheepish. "No, you didn't!"

"I... hey, I was genuinely curious. I mean..." Keith stammered.

"Yeah, okay, don't go around asking people if they like dick or pussy. If I hear you say anything remotely offensive to the new guy, I'm going to throw you out, understood?" Dax warned.

The new guy arrived shortly after. Andres. A lean, pretty man with stylish ash blonde hair. He was wearing earrings in both ears and rag & bone eyeglasses. "Nice to meet you all," he said, his voice a stark contrast to his look. It was a very deep, husky voice.

Keith cleared his throat. "Uh, welcome. Sorry in advance for any dumb questions."

Andres laughed, a rich, warm sound. "No worries. I've heard it all."

At first it was awkward, mostly for Keith who was avoiding eye contact and was too afraid to speak in case he said anything stupid. But two weeks later, Andres decided to address the elephant in the room. "Just so you all know, I'm interested in men. That doesn't mean you have to set me up with every gay person you know. I'm focusing on myself for now."

He was staring at Keith while making the next statement.

"Also, I don’t know what your wise elders advised you, but you don’t have to act nervous around me. I’m not going to ‘turn you gay.’ I’m not coming for any of you. I’m not pursuing straight men. Ever."

That should have calm Keith down. But it didn't. If anything, he felt like a wire stretched too tight, waiting for the snap.

Despite how self consious Keith acted around the "gay guy", he had to admit that Andres was a considerate roommate and a friendly, outgoing person that quickly formed bonds with everyone.

He and Keith, in particular, grew close as they took on various house projects together. They painted walls, made a table out of a broken desk, and covered the armchairs with waterproof cloth. They raided bazaars for cheap decorations, transforming the old house into a cozy home.

One day, while painting the living room, Andres glanced at Keith. "You missed a spot," he teased, pointing to a perfectly painted area, taking the opportunity to splash paint on Keith's face.

Keith rolled his eyes and wiped away the splashes. "You're lucky you're cute, dude. Otherwise, I'd mess up your perfect hair with that same paint," he shot back with a smirk.

Andres pretended to swoon. "Flattery?"

Before Keith knew it the "gay guy" became... "his gay best friend". The word "gay" never leaving Keith's mind.

They even developed a habit of playing online games together. Andres often fell asleep in Keith's room, and their individual rooms became almost redundant. Andres' room was often locked and unused, as he spent most of his time with Keith.

One evening, while they were all lounging in the living room, Dax looked at Andres and Keith, who were fighting over the last slice of pizza.

Lo chuckled. "You guys are like an old married couple at this point."

Keith threw a pillow at him. "Shut up! I like pussy and pussy likes me."

Andres shrugged comically, "Lo, honey, I have standards. I would never date a guy who uses the word 'pussy' more than once in a sentence."

That statement left Keith with an odd, unsatisfied feeling. What does he mean by that? he thought. He’s too good for me or something? Without realizing it, his mind kept circling back to the question. Why wouldn’t the gay guy, who had clearly stated he wouldn’t pursue straight men and wasn’t interested in dating anyone for a while, consider him? Keith—a straight man who thought romance meant sleeping around with girls and whose only acknowledged feelings rhymed with "banger." Hunger and anger.

Chapter Text

Keith quietly left the girl’s dorm room, careful not to wake her up. As he walked down the dimly lit hallway, he realised that something was missing. There had been nothing that made him want to stay. She hadn’t seemed particularly eager to see him again either. And the sex... it didn't feel any good.

The sun had just set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, gradually fading into the deep blue of night. Keith stuffed his hands into his pockets and began the walk back to his house. The city was alive. Cars were honking, people were laughing, and the distant hum of music from nearby bars was reaching Keith's ears.

As he strolled down the street, his eyes wandered to the windows of various shops. Colorful leaflets and posters adorned the glass, advertising local events and music shows. He paused in front of one particularly vibrant flyer announcing an upcoming indie concert at a nearby venue. He made a mental note to check it out later. There were tons of chicks at those kind of events.

He passed by a small park where a group of kids were playing. It brought a faint smile to his face, seeing those tiny people having fun like that. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe all he needed was a movie night with the guys.

Finally, Keith reached the mini-market on the corner of his street. The bell chimed as he pushed open the door. He made his way to the snack aisle, scanning the shelves for his favorite brand of popcorn.

With the popcorn in hand, he made his way to the checkout counter. The cashier, a friendly older woman, greeted him with a smile. "Evening, my boy. Movie night again?"

"Yeah," he replied with a grin, handing her the money.

She laughed. "Well, enjoy your movie. Hope it’s a good one."

"Thanks and goodnight," he said, taking his change and the popcorn.

The walk from the mini-market to his house was short, and as he approached his front door, he took a moment to appreciate the quietness of the street. He liked living in this neighborhood.

Stepping inside, Keith realised the house was empty. Dax and Lo were out with friends, and Andres was still at work. So, it wasn't going to be movie night with the guys.

The thought of using this rare quiet evening to study for his upcoming History of Art exam crossed his mind. He usually studied at the library because Dax and Lo were very loud, and he enjoyed flirting with the nerdy girls there, even though he never actually asked any of them out. The quiet of the house seemed like a perfect opportunity.

Keith went to his room and pulled out his textbooks and notes. He spread them out on the kitchen table, which was less cluttered than the living room. For the next couple of hours, he immersed himself in Renaissance art, trying to remember dates, artists, and significant works. 

After a while, though, his mind started to wander. He sighed and decided to take a break.

He grabbed the bag of popcorn from the kitchen and set it in the microwave. As the kernels began popping, he looked around the living room, noting the familiar chaos. Dax’s textbooks were scattered on the coffee table, and Lo’s collection of quirky mugs cluttered the kitchen counter.

With the popcorn ready, Keith settled onto the couch with his laptop, ready to dive into his movie. He hoped it would be enough to distract him from the nagging thoughts about his lackluster hookup. The film began and he let himself get lost in the story.

As he watched, his phone started buzzing next to him. Keith glanced at his phone. The screen illuminated with "Andy". Keith immediately paused the movie and picked up the call.

"I am Mr. Morkve's personal assistant. I am now forwarding the call to him," he answered in a mock-serious tone, teasing his friend.

"Keith, SOS! I need you to log in to my laptop and send my new CV to my email. It's named 'CV new'. The pdf is located at the top left corner of the desktop. Quick!" Andres' voice was urgent, almost panicked.

"Oh... okay, wait." Keith got up and headed to Andres' room.

"The code is giovannisroom ," said Andres. The urgency in his voice made it clear this was important. Keith knew that Andres was desperately trying to find a job.

"I’m in. Oh, here it is. I am sending it. And... what the hell is giovannisroom?" Keith laughed as he logged into his university email to send the file to his friend.

"It's a gay thing. I'll explain when I get home. Cross your fingers for me to get this job!" Andres replied, a bit of hope breaking through his stress before hanging up.

Keith chuckled and was about to shut down the laptop. But as he glanced at the desktop again, he couldn't help but notice the chaos. Files and photos were strewn everywhere in no particular order. "Oh my god, the fucking mess on this guy's laptop!" he mumbled to himself.

Deciding to do a good deed, he began creating folders and organizing the files thematically. As he was sorting through the digital clutter, a folder named "jjboys_incubus" caught his eye. "The fuck is that?" he muttered.

He looked at it again, moving the cursor over the file.

"Nah... It's probably nothing. Maybe some kinky gay shit he’s into..."

The cursor hovered over the file and the file properties appeared. "Wait, why is it 64 GB?" Keith laughed "What the fuck has this guy been hoarding?" 

Keith's curiosity got the better of him, and he clicked on the folder. He was expecting downloads of porn videos but it contained numerous files in MP3 format. The files were named "dual00013", "mono00014", "echo00025", "test00022", "rp00056", "premium00043" and other coded names.

"Is he making music or something?" Keith exclaimed.

He clicked on one of the files, letting it play. 

And it did.

"What the..." he whispered.

Chapter Text

Keith sat in the back row of his History of Art class, trying to focus on the professor’s lecture. As the class drew to a close, he gathered his textbooks and slid them into his backpack. He checked his phone—Dax and Lo were supposed to pick him up in an hour to head to a party. Andres was working a night shift at the dinner and had opted out of the frat party, citing the number of jackasses he didn’t like there.

Keith decided it wasn’t worth the time to go all the way home, so he texted Dax to come pick him up from the university instead. With an hour to kill, he figured he might as well relax on campus.

He headed to the university cafeteria and ordered a coffee. As he waited, he glanced around at the other students, some chatting animatedly while others were buried in their laptops and books. Grabbing his coffee, he found a quiet corner to sit and sip his drink.

After finishing his coffee, Keith went to the bathroom to freshen up. It was a habit he had developed—carrying essentials in his backpack in case he ended up crashing at a girl’s place. He brushed his teeth, styled his hair, and applied some deodorant. Feeling refreshed, he exited the cafeteria and decided to take a short walk around the campus.

As he wandered, one thing kept bugging his mind. It had been gnawing at him for days, and he couldn’t shake it. He knew he really shouldn’t be searching for this, but the curiosity was too strong. He found himself walking towards an internet cafe near the college grounds.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted by the hum of the computers and the low murmur of conversations. Keith chose a computer in a quiet corner, away from prying eyes.

He typed quickly, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He hesitated for a moment before hitting enter. The screen loaded, and his eyes scanned the results. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Keith had searched, "What are JJboys?" The top result was a detailed explanation: JJboys is an online adult service that focuses on the exchange of money for various services.

The site offered a plethora of options: escorts, videos, audio recordings, pictures, and paid requests. There were also live video chats, personal messaging services, and even role play experiences.

Keith’s eyes widened as he absorbed the information. He clicked on a few links, reading through the descriptions and services offered.

Keith's fingers hesitated over the keyboard before he typed "Incubus" into the search bar on the JJboys site. The results appeared almost instantly, revealing that "Incubus" was one of the top artists, specializing in role play requests and voice acting.

Keith clicked on the profile. The page opened to a sleek, professionally designed layout, showcasing thousands of followers and top free content with thousands of likes.

The featured audios had titles like "Midnight Whispers and Wet Sounds In Your Dark Room- layered sound" and "Twin Incubi Fuck You In Your Sleep- vocal doubling".

There were also pictures: a strikingly beautiful man, his face partially obscured by a delicate black lace mask. He wore a Victorian-style costume, complete with a high-collared velvet jacket, a ruffled white shirt, and a black cravat. More revealing photos displayed his toned body. A striking rose tattoo started from his lower side and snaked across his abdomen, trailing sensuously down his upper leg. In those photos, he was completely naked, posing, with the lace mask still in place. He was covered only by a sheer lace cloth, conveniently draped over his length. The size and shape of it were tantalizingly visible through the delicate fabric.

Keith noticed that Incubus was currently active, and he could send a request for a chat. His cursor lingered over the chat button, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands started to tremble as he contemplated what he was doing.

Unable to muster the courage to initiate a conversation, he instead clicked on one of the top free audios. The voice that emerged from his headset was deep and seductive, making him shiver all over.

Overwhelmed, Keith yanked off his headset just a second later, feeling anxious and nauseous. He sat back, trying to calm down.

He almost forgot about the party.

His phone buzzed, snapping him back to reality. It was Dax, letting him know they were outside. Keith quickly closed the browser and logged off, feeling a bit disoriented.

As he walked out of the internet cafe, he tried to shake off the shock.

He spotted Dax and Lo’s car parked by the curb and jogged over to them.

"Hey, ready to party?" Dax called out, grinning from the driver’s seat.

Keith forced a smile, trying to push the weird thoughts to the back of his mind. "Yeah, let’s do this."

He climbed into the back seat, and they took off towards the frat house.

The car ride was filled with laughter and banter, as Dax and Lo shared stories about their day and hyped up the party. By the time they arrived at the party, he felt more relaxed, ready to enjoy the night and temporarily forget the unsettling curiosity that had led him to the internet cafe.

As they entered the bustling frat house, Keith was greeted by the thumping bass of the music and the lively chatter of partygoers. He took a deep breath. It was the perfect opportunity to get laid and get this "Incubus" shit out of his head.

Chapter Text

The party at the frat house was in full swing. The pulsating bass vibrated through the walls and the wild energy of college students letting loose was infectious. Keith was in his element, navigating through the crowd with a confident ease, while Lo and Dax quickly found themselves caught up in the chaotic fun.

From the upper floors, some overly enthusiastic partygoers decided to add to the mayhem by pouring beer on the people downstairs. Keith felt a cold splash and looked up just in time to see a torrent of beer cascading down, drenching him from head to toe. He laughed it off, shaking his head and running his fingers through his now soaked hair. "Guess I’m getting a free beer shower tonight!" he joked to himself.

Keith spotted a girl struggling with her phone, trying to call a taxi. Her friend was slumped over, vomiting in the driveway. Keith approached her and offered to help. "Hey, need some assistance?" he asked.

She looked relieved. "Yes, please. I can’t get through to the taxi service, and she really needs to get home."

Keith took the phone, efficiently arranging for a taxi. As they waited, he kept the girl company, making small talk and ensuring her friend was okay. When the taxi finally arrived, he helped them both into the car, making sure they were safe.

Back inside, the chaos continued. A guy had decided to strip naked and run around the garden, his underwear on his head like a helmet. His friends chased after him, trying to catch and dress him, but the sight was too funny. Keith couldn’t help but laugh as the guy evaded capture, darting between bushes and garden furniture.

Keith headed upstairs to find a bathroom, feeling the urgent need to pee. He opened the door, only to stumble upon Dax receiving a blowjob from a girl. Keith quickly backed out, muttering apologies. "My bad, my bad! Didn’t see anything!"

Dax’s muffled voice called out, "No worries, man! Happens to the best of us!"

Shaking his head, Keith wandered back downstairs and saw Lo had fallen asleep on a girl on the couch. She didn’t seem to mind, gently stroking his hair as he snored softly against her shoulder. Keith chuckled, snapping a quick photo to show Lo in the morning.

Around 2 am, the party was still going strong. Keith had already made out with two different girls and was pretty drunk. At some point, another girl invited him into her car and tried to ride him, but Keith couldn’t get it up. He blamed the alcohol and even offered to go down on her, but before anything else could happen, her attention shifted. A girl knocked on the car window, and without much hesitation, Keith's hookup quickly kicked him out.

Keith found a quiet corner to check his phone again. Incubus was online. His heart raced as he decided to send a message, knowing that messages were paid in general. He typed out, "Hey, can I pay for some photos?"

A reply came quickly. "Of course, what kind of photos are you interested in?"

Keith’s fingers trembled as he replied, "I wish to see that tattoo."

Incubus responded with a price, and Keith confirmed. Moments later, a series of photos arrived, each more revealing than the last. 

"You have an amazing voice. How long have you been doing this?"

"Thank you. I’ve been in the business for 2 months now. It’s been quite the journey," Incubus replied. "So, tell me about yourself. What brings you to my profile? What would you like to see in the future?"

Keith’s heart almost stopped. "Just curious. You caught my eye, and I had to see more."

The party’s noise faded into the background as Keith became engrossed in the chat. By the time he realized how much time had passed, it was well past 3 am. He knew he had to leave soon.

"Thanks for chatting with me tonight. I didn’t expect to enjoy this so much," Keith typed.

"Hit me up anytime. I enjoyed our conversation too," came the reply.

After a while, Keith decided it was time to leave the party. With Lo sound asleep on a couch in the frat house and Dax passed out in his car, Keith opted to take the first bus home.

The bus ride home was quiet, the streets mostly deserted at this late hour. Keith leaned his head against the window, the vibrations of the moving bus lulling him into a half-sleep. When he finally reached his stop, he stumbled off the bus and made his way back to the house he shared with his roommates.

Upon entering, he noticed that the house was dark and silent. Andres was back from his night shift and probably sleeping in his room, as the door was closed. Keith stood for a moment in front of the door, swaying slightly in his drunken haze. Without much thought, he knocked, forgetting it was nearly 4 in the morning.

After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a very sleepy and surprised Andres. "Keith? Weren't you supposed to be at the party?"

Keith didn't respond. Instead, he simply stepped into the room and collapsed onto Andres' bed, instantly falling asleep. Andres sighed, rubbing his eyes as he looked at his passed-out friend. He tried to wake Keith up, shaking him gently. "Keith, you can't sleep here. Come on, get up."

But Keith was dead to the world, completely unresponsive. Realizing it was a lost cause, Andres sighed again and gave up. He carefully climbed into the bed next to Keith, making sure not to disturb him too much.

Andres lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and wondering what had led Keith to his room.

Chapter Text

Keith woke to a throbbing ache in his jaw. Andres was no longer next to him. He opened his eyes and saw velvety, warm shadows creeping into the room through the window. The faint sound of running water echoed from somewhere deeper in the house. The shower.

Keith staggered out of bed, his steps unsteady. The hallway was cloaked in mist. The bathroom door was wide open, and the steam rolled out like a ghostly veil.

The scent hit him first—sweet, heady. Jasmine and rose. It was pleasant, yes, but it felt like it didn’t belong there, like it was an intruder.

His jaw throbbed harder, and he instinctively brought a hand to his mouth. Wetness. Something slick and warm. He pulled his hand back and stared at the dark smear of blood on his fingers.

Confusion turned his thoughts into static. Did I fall? Did I get into a fight at the party? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t feel drunk, but his head was fogged over, heavy.

He peered into the bathroom. The curtain was pushed completely aside, leaving the shower wide open. Water splashed everywhere, streaming onto the tiles and flooding the floor in shallow puddles.

And there was Andres.

He stood nude, his body haloed by vapor and adorned with rivulets of foam, water clinging to his skin like tiny, glistening beads.

Andres didn’t flinch at Keith’s intrusion. He didn’t look startled or annoyed. His gaze was steady, cold, fixed on Keith with unnerving clarity.

Keith froze in place. Something about the scene felt... off. Wrong. The sweet scent lingered in the air. Keith’s jaw throbbed harder, and he could feel blood pooling in his mouth.

Suddenly, the nausea hit. He staggered to the toilet and retched. His vomit splashed into the bowl, and he realized it was mixed with blood.

He glanced up, gasping for air, and his gaze met Andres'. Andres was still standing there, dripping wet, a strange, unsettling smile onto his face.

Keith spit on the tiles without realising it, and this time, something solid clattered against the porcelain. A tooth. His tooth. It rolled onto the tiles, coming to rest in a pool of water and blood.

Before he could react, Andres stepped out of the shower. He moved slowly, the water dripping from his body. He crouched and picked up the tooth, holding it between his fingers like it was some kind of prize.

Keith recoiled, but Andres was already in front of him. He grabbed Keith’s face, tilting his head up as though he were inspecting a broken toy. Keith tried to pull away, but Andres’ grip tightened.

Andres’ fingers pried Keith’s mouth open, pushing inside, probing the empty spot where the tooth had been. His thumb pressed against Keith’s tongue, holding it down, and his other fingers dug into Keith’s chin, keeping him still.

Keith gagged, a sharp, choking sound escaping his throat as Andres pushed further, rubbing his thumb along Keith’s tongue in slow, methodical motions. It felt invasive, wrong, like Andres was claiming some part of him he didn’t even know existed.

His voice came out as a broken whisper. “I... I’m sorry…”

Andres released him, and Keith staggered back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.

He stumbled out of the bathroom and back to the bed, his limbs trembling, his mind a jumbled mess.

He collapsed onto the mattress, curling up on his side. A few moments later, he felt the bed dip as Andres climbed in beside him.

The silence was broken by a soft, low chuckle.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Andres’ voice was almost a purr.

Keith didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

When he woke the next morning, the bathroom was pristine. There was no blood, no sign of the chaos from the night before. Keith hesitated before running his tongue along his teeth. They were all there, intact and perfectly normal.

He found Andres in the kitchen, casually sipping coffee. When Keith asked him about the events in the bathroom, Andres raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“You were going to puke in my bed,” Andres said. “I dragged you to the bathroom. You were out of it.”

Keith stared at him, searching for any hint of a lie. But Andres’ face was calm and Keith couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest.

Had it been a dream?

Chapter Text

Keith sat in the quiet corner of the university library with a stack of thick books before him. More than often, he used the peaceful library to flirt with girls, but that day he wasn't in the mood.

He had already studied the material he needed for the term paper when a flurry of movement caught his eye from a few tables away. A girl was struggling with a precarious tower of books, each teetering as she maneuvered them around her laptop. Keith's curiosity piqued, he discreetly observed her.

Keith noticed the spines of the books, and they painted a rather intriguing picture. Titles like “Masochism and the Self” by Roy F. Baumeister, “Masochism: A Jungian View” by Lyn Cowan, and “Masochism in Modern Man” by Theodor Reik suggested she was deeply entrenched in psychological research. Amidst these clinical volumes, he spotted a literature book: "Venus in Furs" by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch.

Keith found himself drawn into the puzzle of her academic inquiry. The juxtaposition of clinical texts and literature hinted at a comprehensive research project, perhaps a thesis.

After a short while, the girl gathered her things with an air of satisfaction. She closed her laptop, packed up her books, and left the library.

Keith watched her go. Unable to resist, he wandered over to her vacated table. He picked up "Venus in Furs" and flipped through its pages.

A vivid image crossed his mind. An image unbidden. It was an image of himself—but not the confident fuckboy version he presented. He was on his knees. His hands were tied behind his back. Sweat was glistening on his skin. He imagined a hand gripping his hair and pulling his head back. The phantom pain from a strike that hadn’t even landed made him bit his lip, hard.

Keith imagined crying during sex. Crying. He wouldn’t even let himself cry when he most needed it. Tears were weakness. That’s what he'd been taught from a young age.

But in his mind, his face was buried against someone’s chest, sobbing openly as hands held him in place.

Would it feel like falling apart or like being pieced back together?

Keith felt the heat of shame rising in his chest. His face burned. What the hell is wrong with me?

Masochism. It felt like such a dirty word. He wasn’t the kind of person who liked... that. Was he? No. Absolutely not. He was Keith—cool, detached, and in control. Always in control.

Yet, some hidden truth had clawed its way to the surface and was now staring him down.

Without fully realizing why, Keith found himself opening the JJboys app. The conversation thread with Incubus was still active. He hesitated for a moment before typing out a message: "Can I ask about the premium package?"

Keith's phone buzzed when Incubus replied  The message read: “The premium package includes one-on-one live streams and special requests. Just send a small donation, and we can arrange everything.”

Keith wasn’t entirely sure what to ask next but decided to dive deeper into the specifics. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he typed: “What kind of special requests can I make?”

Incubus replied quickly: “You can request specific scenarios or themes. Anything you’re curious about, we can discuss. The more detailed your request, the better I can tailor the experience.”

Keith pondered this. He decided to push the envelope a bit further. “Can you give me some examples of what people usually request?”

The response came almost immediately: “Common requests include role plays, BDSM and custom audio content. Some people ask for guided fantasies or scenarios they’re interested in exploring.”

Keith wanted to understand the full scope of what Incubus was doing. “Do you have any limits on what can be requested? Are there things you won’t do?”

Incubus was prompt in his reply. “There are some boundaries, of course. I won’t engage in anything harmful or illegal, and I’m not comfortable with requests that involve physical contact. I do not provide escort services, if you are interested in that I would gladly redirect you to some of the best JJ escorts. Beyond that, I’m pretty open to discussing what you have in mind.”

Keith decided to be straightforward. “How does the one-on-one live stream work? Is it interactive?”

“Yes,” Incubus explained. “During the live stream, you can interact with me directly. You can give me feedback in real-time, suggest changes to what’s happening, or request specific actions.”

Keith felt a weird excitement. "How much is the donation for the premium package?”

Incubus replied with a clear breakdown: “The standard donation for the full package is $150. It covers the live stream, any special requests, and a set of premium photos or videos. If you have something more specific in mind, we can discuss adjusting the donation accordingly.”

Keith considered this information carefully. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was digging into this so much. “What if I want to add something extra to the package? Is that possible?”

“Yes,” Incubus responded. “You can always add extras. If you have particular fantasies or additional requests, we can adjust the donation based on what you need.”

Keith typed: “Okay, I’m interested in the full package. What’s the best way to send the donation?”

Incubus provided the details for the donation process.

Keith sat back in his chair, staring blankly at his phone screen. He couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to achieve. Everything felt a bit surreal and out of control.

He tried to rationalize his decision to himself. He convinced himself that he was just going to pay for the premium package just to see what exactly was the content available. That’s all he would do. Just a quick look at what Incubus was all about.

He sighed, trying to calm his nerves. He prepared to make the payment, telling himself it was just harmless curiosity. He clicked through the payment process and his fingers were slightly trembling.

Keith completed the transaction and waited for the confirmation. As he sat there, waiting for the access to unlock, he started feeling the panic setting in. 

"What the fuck am I doing?" he thought . He took a deep breath, shaking off the anxiety. 

As the screen finally updated to show that he had access to the premium content, Keith's heart started beating like crazy. 

"Just a quick look," Keith thought, trying to convince himself that this was merely a moment of curiosity and nothing more.

Chapter Text

Keith sat in the ice cream shop, his eyes darting to the door every few minutes. The girl he was supposed to meet for their date had yet to show up, and he was starting to feel like he was in a bad rom-com. The shop was quaint, with pastel-colored walls and cheerful music playing in the background. The place smelled of freshly made waffle cones. It was a perfect setting for a date—if only his date would actually arrive.

After waiting for nearly an hour and finishing his sundae, he sighed and pulled out his phone. He typed a quick message to Andres: “Hey, want some free ice cream? My date bailed.”

Andres replied almost instantly: “Free ice cream? I never say no to that! Be there in 10.”

Keith smiled despite his disappointment. At least he wouldn’t have to leave the shop feeling completely let down.

True to his word, Andres arrived in ten minutes, his lean frame sauntering through the door. He was wearing his usual assortment of accessories: a stylish hat, a pair of trendy glasses, and an array of necklaces and rings that somehow all looked good together. His androgynous look was striking, and Keith couldn't help but notice how many heads turned when Andres walked in.

“Hey,” Andres greeted, sliding into the booth across from Keith. “So, what happened?”

Keith shrugged, pushing a menu towards Andres. “She never showed up. Figured I’d at least make the best of it and get some company.”

“Her loss,” Andres said, scanning the menu. “This place looks great. Thanks for the ice cream.”

Keith chuckled. “No problem. Order whatever you want.”

Andres eventually settled on a triple scoop of chocolate chip, cookie dough, banana and strawberry. As he took his first lick, Keith couldn’t help but notice how slow Andres was with his ice cream. Every single lick was grabbing Keith's eye.

“So, how’s college treating you?” Andres asked, breaking Keith’s focus.

“It's alright. Just trying to balance everything—classes, studying, social life. You know how it is,” Keith replied, tearing his eyes away from Andres’ tongue.

“Yeah, I get it. My job at the diner is kicking my ass, but it pays the bills,” Andres said, his voice taking on a husky, relaxed tone.

Keith nodded. “I can imagine. Must be tough working nights and then going to classes during the day.”

Andres shrugged, taking another slow lick of his ice cream. “It’s not too bad. Keeps me busy, and I like the people I work with. Except for the occasional jackass.”

Keith laughed. “Like the ones at that frat party you didn’t want to go to?”

“Exactly,” Andres said with a smirk. “Those guys are the worst. No offense.”

“None taken,” Keith replied, watching as Andres’ tongue glided over the ice cream again. He tried to ignore the weird feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was just the leftover disappointment from his failed date.

“You know,” Andres said, looking thoughtful as he licked his ice cream. “I’ve never understood why people don’t just say if they’re not interested. Saves everyone a lot of trouble.”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, it would’ve been nice to know. But I guess it’s just part of the game.”

They continued chatting, with Andres sharing stories from the dinner and Keith talking about his classes and the pressures of keeping up with his art projects. All the while, Keith found his eyes drifting back to Andres’ methodical enjoyment of his ice cream. There was something oddly captivating about it. 

Keith just couldn't stop looking at Andres's lips. As Andres savored his ice cream, Keith noticed for the first time a small lip piercing glinting in the light. It added an unexpected edge to Andres' already striking appearance. His lips were soft, with a natural rosy tint that made them all the more captivating. Keith hoped Andres didn't notice his staring.

Suddenly a question popped in Keith's head: How would that small ring feel if you get a blowjob from him? A vivid picture crossed his mind... Andres wearing only a leather harness, deepthroating a random dude that was tied and blindfolded on a bed.

Keith quickly looked away. He felt awful about the picture that had just crossed his mind. It wasn't right. Yet, the image lingered, causing him feel guilty but mostly curious. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You pierced your lip?" Keith asked as matter-of-factly as possible, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Andres looked up from his ice cream and nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ah, yeah, I did it yesterday."

Keith forced a casual nod, though his mind was still reeling from the image he'd conjured earlier. "Looks good," he said, hoping his voice sounded steady. "Where did you get it done?"

"There's this cool place downtown," Andres replied. "The guy who did mine was really professional."

Keith nodded. "I've been thinking about getting my eyebrow and ears pierced," he admitted.

Andres' eyes lit up. "I totally recommend the place if you want a piercing. They do tattoos too, if you can handle the pain."

Keith, caught up in the moment and not fully thinking, blurted out, "That wouldn't be a problem. I love the pain." 

Suddenly, silence fell between them as Andres looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Keith quickly backpedaled, his face heating up. "I mean, I have a really high pain tolerance. That's what I meant. That came out wrong." He laughed awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension.

Andres chuckled, the awkwardness dissipating. "Good to know, Keith. Good to know."

Keith and Andres ended up returning home by midnight. As they entered the apartment, they were greeted by the sounds of Dax and Lo arguing in the living room.

"I’m telling you, we should order ethnic cuisine tonight," Dax insisted, waving his phone in the air.

"Burgers. We’re getting burgers," Lo countered, arms crossed stubbornly. "I’m not in the mood for something fancy."

Andres grinned and sat down with them. "Guys, how about a compromise?"

Keith excused himself. "I'm gonna head to bed, guys. I'm wiped out."

"Night, Keith," Andres called after him, already caught up in the discussion about their fusion burger plan.

Keith made his way to his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He slipped under the covers and took out his phone. He navigated to the JJboys app, his heart pounding.

Incubus wasn't online, but a notification caught his eye. A new premium recording had been uploaded. It was titled "Demon Servant Teasing His Huge Cock (moaning, wet sounds, edging)"

Keith hesitated. He told himself not to listen to it, but the temptation was too strong. His earphones were already on his pillow because he used to listen to music before going to sleep. His thumb hovered over the play button, and before he could second-guess himself, he pressed it.The deep, sultry voice of Incubus filled his ears through the handsfree earbuds. He closed his eyes, letting the voice wash over him.

Chapter Text

Keith woke up in the middle of the night, feeling disoriented. His earbuds were still in, and his phone was lying next to him, the screen faintly glowing. It was 3 a.m. He pulled out the earbuds and rubbed his eyes. The recording...he listened to it 7 times.

Keith kept telling himself that listening to Incubus was just out of curiosity. Nothing more. He wasn’t into that stuff, not really. He just wanted to see what other people were into. It was similar to that phase when he’d started watching gay porn—not because he liked it, but because regular porn was starting to feel... unsatisfying. Boring. He’d needed something different to cum, something more intense.

It wasn’t like he was the only one doing this, right? Surely all men did this at some point but just didn’t admit it. Everyone must’ve clicked on gay porn out of curiosity once in a while. That didn’t mean anything, though. Keith wasn’t gay—obviously. Watching gay porn didn’t make you gay, pffft!

And now, this thing with Incubus. It was the same idea. He was just testing the waters, seeing how far the guy would go. Keith wasn’t into gay BDSM or anything—it was just a game. Something to pass the time.

He was getting so turned on by it—obviously, it was just because it was something new. That was all. It wasn’t about the content, really. It was the novelty, the unfamiliarity of it. That’s what had him feeling this way, right?

It was like a reflex. It didn’t mean anything about him.

Yeah. Just a game. That’s all it was.

Feeling a sudden urge to check the JJboys website again, he opened the app and saw that Incubus was now online. Hesitating for a moment, he decided to send a message: "Today's recording was amazing."

A reply came almost instantly. "Thank you, honey, always a pleasure to know my best clients enjoy my work."

Keith stared at the screen. He wanted to say more, but he really shouldn't. After a lot of thinking and battling with himself, he finally typed, "I was thinking about requests, how does that work?"

Incubus responded quickly. "It's simple really. I give you permission to edit the script from the second icon to the left. The one that looks like a little pen. You choose your scenario and specific things you want me to say. I calculate the price and I deliver the audio to you when it's ready."

Keith took a deep breath, reading the message several times. His hands were trembling as he navigated to the script editor.

The blank screen seemed to mock him, daring him to click on his deepest fantasies. Finally, he began, his fingers moving almost on their own.

• Scenario: Intense Domination, Nipple Torture, Facefucking , Anal Play.

• Description: "I am dominated by you. You will tie me up, slap my cock, torture my nipples, insert a vibrator in my ass and fuck my mouth."

• Specific text requested: "Anything. Just break me."

• List of chosen phrases:

"I will play with you all night." ✓

"I won't stop even if you cry or beg." ✓

"I will stuff your cute hole." ✓

"You need to be punished." ✓

"You are not allowed to cum." ✓

"You don't seem to shut up. Pushing my dick inside your mouth would probably do the thing." ✓

"You are my dirty, little plaything." ✓

See more...

• Sounds: "Any kind of wet sounds, toy sounds and slaps would do. Also, please laugh at me."

• Duration: 10-15 minutes.

He sent the script to Incubus, his anxiety spiking. After a few moments, a message popped up. "Got it. Let me calculate the price for you."

Keith watched as Incubus typed, the little dots on the screen indicating a reply was coming. "For this request, it will be $50. Is that okay with you?"

Keith swallowed hard. It was a lot for a recording, but he really wanted to see how it'll play out. He typed back, "That's fine."

"Great. I'll start working on it and let you know when it's ready. Thank you for your support, honey."

Keith set his phone down and lay back on his pillow, staring at the ceiling. "Have I lost my mind?" he muttered.

Chapter Text

The next evening, Keith was hunched over his desk, scribbling notes and flipping through textbooks in his bedroom. The glow of his desk lamp  illuminated the scattered pages and his laptop was open in front of him. He was deep in concentration, trying to make sense of art theory when the sudden noise from his door made him jump.

In burst Andres, his face flushed with excitement and his hands triumphantly raised above his head, holding a shiny new video game case. "Look what I got!" Andres exclaimed, practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"Wow! Is that the new Alone in the Forest?" Keith exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise.

Andres' grin widened even further. "Yep, it sure is. I managed to snag a copy," he said, entering the room and waving the game case in the air like a trophy.

Keith shook his head in amazement. "How did you even get it? I heard people were camping out overnight just to get a chance to buy it."

Andres laughed, flopping down onto Keith's bed. "I got lucky. Went to this little video store on the edge of town that no one seems to know about. Walked in right as they were putting out a new batch of games."

"That's insane," Keith said, still in disbelief. "But it's got to be like 75-80 bucks now! How did you afford it?"

Andres shrugged casually. "Got a really good tip at work yesterday."

Keith's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Dude, we have to play it. Right now."

"That's what I was thinking," Andres said, grinning.

Without a second thought, Andres threw himself onto Keith’s bed, setting the game case down with a dramatic flourish. “Come on."

Keith quickly cleared his desk, stacking his books to one side. He grabbed his gaming controller and shuffled over to the bed, where Andres was already setting up the console. The game loaded on the screen.

Keith knew that Andres had bought the game because of the... forest retreat. Three months before the game’s launch, their friend group—including Dax and Lo—had planned to go to a retreat in the mountains. Lo had spearheaded the whole thing because of a girl he had a massive crush on, someone who was part of their extended friend circle. Keith knew the girl—everyone did. She was the kind of person who made everyone laugh without even trying. The way she told stories, her knack for teasing Lo by calling him by his full name, Lorenzo, with this overly dramatic flourish—it was all hilarious.

Naturally, Keith had decided to go too. No way he was going to miss out on the chaos of Lo awkwardly trying to flirt with her while everyone else roasted him mercilessly. They’d been about to invite Andres as well, but then Dax quietly pointed out that Andres probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. Between rent, groceries, and some unexpected medical bills, Andres didn’t even have $100 to spare.

Keith couldn’t shake how wrong that felt. Andres deserved to be there as much as anyone else. He was one of them, and leaving him out just felt... cruel. The idea of Andres sitting alone at home while they all went off to have the time of their lives made Keith feel sick.

So, Keith did something. He scoured the retreat’s website and managed to book an extra spot for Andres. Then he casually told Andres that he’d won a free stay for two in some random online giveaway. “What are the odds, right?” Keith had said, grinning like it wasn’t a complete lie. “You’re coming with me, dude. No excuses.”

Andres had stared at him, suspicious, but eventually agreed.

The retreat turned out to be one of the best weekends they had. They hiked trails that led to breathtaking views, sprawling green valleys with streams cutting through them. They sat on rocky outcrops overlooking the forest, sharing a thermos of coffee and not saying much, just listening to the wind in the trees. At night, they sat around a campfire under a sky so clear you could see every star, roasting marshmallows and laughing until their sides hurt.

The last day of the retreat came too soon. Keith and Andres were sitting in their shared room, waiting for Dax and Lo to finish packing up when Andres broke the silence.

“I know this wasn’t something you won online,” Andres said.

Keith froze. He looked over at Andres. Andres was too prideful.

“I’ll pay you back,” Andres continued, his tone resolute.

Keith groaned, slumping back onto the bed. “Dude, no. If you give me money, we’re gonna fight. Big time.”

Andres raised an eyebrow. “Keith—”

“I’m serious,” Keith cut him off. “It wasn’t about money. I just wanted you to be here, okay? So drop it.”

For a moment, Andres just stared at him, and Keith braced himself for another argument. But then Andres’ expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“Fine,” Andres said. “I won’t pay you back. But I’m getting you that new horror game you’ve been hyped about. The one that comes out in a few months. I’m buying it for you."

And, true to his word, three months later, Andres handed Keith a copy of the game on launch day.

Hours slipped by unnoticed. Snacks were scattered around, and empty soda cans formed a small pile on the floor as the game consumed their attention. Laughter and shouts of surprise filled the room as they encountered creepy creatures and eerie sound effects.

They played through the night, occasionally swapping stories about their day, discussing the game, and trash-talking each other in good humor. 

Around 2:30 a.m., Andres, looking bleary-eyed, glanced at his phone and groaned. “It’s already after 2 a.m. We’ve been at this for hours!”

Keith chuckled, his own eyes struggling to stay open. “Yeah, time flew by. I guess we got a bit carried away.”

“Definitely worth it though,” Andres replied with a satisfied yawn. “This game is amazing. But we should probably go to sleep.”

Keith nodded in agreement. As they powered down the console, their earlier bravado was replaced with unease. They had been playing a horror game, after all.

Keith glanced at the bed, then at Andres, who was looking equally unsettled. “You know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we just crashed here together. I mean, after all that, I don’t think I can face the dark alone.”

Andres gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

They both laughed awkwardly and settled onto the bed. Keith reached for the blanket, pulling it over them as they lay side by side.The bed was small, and they found themselves pressed close together. They talked quietly for a few minutes.

Eventually, the conversation dwindled, and both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep...

Keith shifted in his bed and immediately sensed something was off. Andres wasn’t there. He opened his eyes, greeted by the shadows of the forest retreat. The room was empty, but the absence of the other guys felt wrong. Too wrong.

The need to pee pulled him from bed. Barefoot and dressed only in his sweatpants, Keith wandered to the shared bathroom down the hall.

The bathroom was lit by a flickering bulb. Keith stood over the toilet, trying to shake off the strange unease as he relieved himself. That’s when he noticed it—his urine wasn’t right. The color was off, murky and reddish, like old rust mixed with water.

“What the hell?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and thin.

Maybe it was something he ate? Or smoked? He looked down and saw that his sweatpants and bare feet were soaked in the same strange liquid.

“Shit,” he muttered, stripping off the sweatpants.

Completely naked, he shoved the pants under the sink to wash them. But the sink groaned under his touch, a low, ominous sound that made his stomach drop. The faucet sputtered once, then cracked open with a deafening snap, releasing a torrent of thick, black mud.

“Jesus Christ!” Keith staggered back, slipping on the slick floor as the mud gushed out, splashing onto the walls, the mirror, and him. It was everywhere—cold and sticky.

Now naked and filthy, Keith stumbled out of the bathroom. The hallway was darker than before. He called out for the others.

No response. Just the sound of the wind outside.

He wandered further. He found himself outside. The moonlight barely illuminated the surrounding forest.

Keith spotted a stream in the distance. The water glittered in the faint light, clear and inviting. Relief washed over him—he could clean himself up, rinse off the mud. He took a step toward it, then froze.

A scream tore through the stillness.

High-pitched and raw, it sounded like someone in agony, echoing through the trees. Keith’s heart slammed against his ribcage as he whipped his head around, searching the darkness.

“Who’s there?” he yelled, his voice cracking.

No response.

He turned and ran, his bare feet pounding against the damp earth. He didn’t care where he was going—he just needed to get away. Back to the retreat. Back to safety.

But when he reached the building, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Someone was standing at the door.

For a moment, relief washed over him. Someone else was here. He wasn’t alone. But as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, that relief twisted into cold, raw fear.

The figure wasn’t right.

It was a man, unnervingly still, dressed in a pristine black tuxedo that didn’t belong in this setting. His face was obscured by a black lace mask.

Keith took a shaky step back.

The man tilted his head so much that it looked unnatural. Then, without warning, the man lunged toward him.

Keith turned and ran into the forest again, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Branches tore at his skin, and the ground was uneven, making him stumble and trip. But he didn’t stop.

Behind him, he could hear the man’s footsteps—quick, steady.

Keith’s lungs burned, and his body screamed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. Not with that thing chasing him.

Then the footsteps were gone.

Keith skidded to a halt. He looked around, his eyes darting through the shadows.

A hand grabbed him from behind.

Keith screamed, but it was cut off as he was forced to his knees.

“You’re so dirty,” the man said, his voice smooth and chilling.

Keith froze. That voice.

“Do you know what I do to dirty boys?”

The man leaned in close.

Keith tried to turn his head, tried to see his face, but the man’s grip was too strong.

That voice.

It was unmistakable.

It was Andres'.

...

"Keith."

"Ah..."

"Keith!"

A hand gently shook his shoulder. "Keith," Andres' voice said, "you're having a nightmare."

Chapter Text

It was another typical Friday night, dubbed “movie night” by the guys. The living room smelled of pepperoni, melted cheese and beer.

Tonight's selection was a high-octane action movie, packed with guns, mafia encounters, and thrilling car chases.

"Man, did you see that?" Dax exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Lo laughed, nearly spilling his beer. "Yeah, but it's so unrealistic! There's no way they'd get away from the cops like that."

"Who cares about realism? It's awesome!" Dax retorted, tossing a pizza crust at Lo.

Keith, however, found his attention drifting away from the movie. His gaze kept returning to Andres, who was watching  and occasionally taking swigs from his beer.

Keith couldn't help but notice the way Andres’ Adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp. Andres' neck was so slender and beautiful. Keith's eyes wandered higher. For the first time, he paid attention to the long eyelashes that framed his friend’s eyes. So pretty. This man was so damn pretty.

Keith shuffled on the sofa. He desperately wanted to sit closer, finding flimsy excuses to change his seat. An idea crossed his mind.

"Oh no, I spilled my beer!" Keith exclaimed, standing up and grabbing a wet sponge from the kitchen. He quickly dabbed at the sofa, cleaning up the spill and leaving it to dry.

"Smooth move, slick," Dax teased, not missing a beat.

Keith ignored him, feigning innocence as he took the now-vacant spot next to Andres. He made sure to position himself so that their legs and arms brushed against each other.

As the movie reached a particularly loud and chaotic scene, their upstairs neighbor, notorious for being a complainer, had apparently had enough. The doorbell rang, and Lo sighed heavily, getting up to answer it. A few minutes later, he returned, looking exasperated.

"Yep. That upstairs weirdo did it again," Lo announced, flopping back onto the couch. "Called the cops on us for nighttime disturbances."

"Seriously?" Dax groaned. "It's not even that late!"

"Well, we better keep it down," Andres suggested, his voice calm and measured.

The rest of the movie passed without incident, though Keith’s mind was barely on the plot. He was hyper-aware of every subtle touch, every move, every smile. When the credits finally rolled, Keith stretched and let out a yawn, trying to disguise his nerves.

"I’m heading to bed," Keith announced, then turned to Andres with what he hoped was a nonchalant smile. "Wanna play Alone in the Forest before crashing?"

Andres nodded, a small grin playing at his lips. "Sure, why not."

They moved to Keith’s room, where Keith booted up his console. The familiar sounds of the game loaded. They played for a while, laughing and searching for easter eggs they heard about on YouTube. 

As the clock ticked towards 3 AM, Keith glanced at Andres, who seemed equally tired but in good spirits.

"Hey, you can crash here if you want," Keith suggested, trying to keep his tone casual. "No point in heading back to your room this late."

Andres hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Keith’s heart raced with excitement. 

"Oh, I saw a girl leaving early in the morning," Andres continued, his tone light and teasing. "Lo and I were chuckling after she left. You know, because you’re the biggest lover boy in the house. Even a bigger manslut than Dax."

Keith forced a smile, though his heart wasn’t in it. He chuckled softly, trying to keep up the facade. "Yeah, it was a great night. We had a lot of fun."

The truth was far less glamorous. The girl had followed Keith back home after a night out. They made out for a while, but Keith had been too exhausted to stay awake. The foreplay was so gentle, warm and sweet... that he fell asleep.

The girl slept over, and in the awkward light of morning, she’d left without much fanfare. Keith was still waiting for her to text back. But Keith wasn’t about to admit that to Andres.

Keith had somehow gained a reputation—one that wasn’t entirely false, but not entirely true either. It was a mix of self-presentation and university gossip.

He was always present—attending lectures, excelling in group projects, throwing himself into university activities. He was smart, confident, and effortlessly charming, which made people talk. In his department, he had become something of a heartthrob.

The room fell silent again, and Keith stared at the ceiling. He hoped Andres couldn’t hear the truth in his heartbeat or see through the lies. There was no room for vulnerability here, not now. Andres needed to know one thing about Keith: that Keith was always on top of his game. And as long as he could maintain that image, he could keep pretending everything was fine.

After a few moments of silence, Keith took a deep breath and turned his head slightly towards Andres. "So, uh, have you had any luck with dating?" he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to mask the curiosity in his voice.

Andres chuckled softly, the sound warm and cute. "You mean, have I been getting laid?" he replied, a teasing note in his voice.

Keith managed a laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

Andres was quiet for a moment, as if considering his response. "Well, there's someone I've been seeing," he said finally. "We're just getting to know each other. Nothing serious yet. I like to get to know someone before jumping into bed with them."

Keith felt awful after Andres' revelation. He felt small, insignificant and inadequate. He couldn't pinpoint why he felt so terrible, but it gnawed at him, a persistent ache in his chest.

After a while Keith realized Andres was asleep. His breathing was slow and steady, his lips slightly parted, the small piercing glinting faintly. Keith's gaze lingered there before drifting up to his eyelashes, dark and delicate, then down to the faint shadow of facial hair along his jaw. It was more noticeable now—he hadn’t shaved.

Keith’s eyes moved lower. Andres' arms had hair too. That surprised him. Did gay guys shave everything off? Keith had no idea, but suddenly, the thought of Andres not shaving seemed... interesting. Sexy, even. He swallowed. And what about his armpits?

He hesitated, his fingers twitching against the sheets. Andres usually kept them smooth, but… was he still shaving them? Keith couldn't help himself. Just curious. Just curious.

He moved Andres' arm slightly, heart pounding. And there it was—a small patch of hair starting to grow in.

What about his chest?

Andres was already wearing a low V-neck. It would be so easy to just—Keith’s fingers moved before he could stop them, lifting the fabric slightly.

Oh, fuck.

He hadn’t shaved there either.

Keith's eyes locked onto Andres' nipples. His mouth went dry. Something curled tight and hot in his stomach.

Then, nausea hit. A cold wave of panic.

He yanked his hand back like he’d been burned and rolled onto his side, his back to Andres, breathing fast and uneven. What the hell am I doing?

Sleep came. But with sleep came something else, too. Keith stirred in his sleep, a strange pressure settling on his chest, like something—or someone—was weighing him down. He tried to shift, but his body wouldn’t respond.

Then, something wet touched his lips.

A slow sensation. Warm and teasing.

The weight on his chest grew heavier, a body pressing against him.

Lips moving against his, coaxing, playful. Keith gasped but it only made it easier for whoever was kissing him to deepen it. He felt a wet tongue slithering inside his mouth.

Then he felt something small and metallic scrapping softly his lip.

Like a lip piercing.

Keith's head spun.

This isn't happening. I was sleeping. I—

"You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?"

Keith lost it.

Andres’ mouth ghosted along his jaw, down to his neck. His breath was hot, his words fire.

"You like watching, don’t you? You like looking at me."

Everything about this felt wrong.

Andres knew?

"You like my voice, too."

Andres’ hands—strong, steady—slid under the sheets, finding him, teasing him.

Keith’s entire body jolted—pleasure? Fear? Shame? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

"You wanted this."

Keith tried to speak, to move, to push, but he couldn’t.

His body was paralysed.

"Relax," Andres murmured against his lips. "Just let it happen."

Keith felt the terror. He was drowning in the dark. The pressure grew heavier.

What had started as a kiss turned hungry. Teeth grazed his lips, tugging, devouring. There was movement. A deep, slow grind against him, rhythmic and frantic, friction that sent pulses up his spine.

A sharp pain shot through him between and under his legs, an intrusion that made his entire body jerk.

No.

"You like this," the voice whispered, smooth and dark, dripping into his ears like warm honey.

He could feel the weight, the sensation of being rubbed, touched, violated. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breath.

A whisper at his throat.

A wet press at his lips.

Something between his legs, pushing.

Until it didn't.

The pressure had lifted. The shadow had disappeared.

His limbs were his again, trembling as he pushed himself upright. The room was dark, too still, as if something had just retreated, watching from the corners. He turned his head—Andres should have been there, right beside him.

But the bed was empty.

Keith swung his legs over the edge and stood up, scanning the room. No sign of him. The silence stretched unnaturally long, swallowing every little sound.

He moved, shaky but determined.

“Andres?” His voice barely carried.

No response.

Keith walked down the hallway. The house felt too big, too empty. He checked the living room first—Dax and Lo were still there, lounging on the couch, laughing at some over-the-top explosion on the TV. Pizza boxes stacked high, beer cans littering the table.

“Hey, where’s Andres?” Keith asked.

Dax and Lo turned to him, brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“Who is Andres?” Dax asked.

Keith felt his stomach drop.

Lo chuckled, clearly thinking Keith was messing with them. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”

No. No, no, no.

He turned away from them, stepping into the kitchen to steady himself. He ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the dizziness.

But when he turned back—

Dax and Lo were gone.

The couch was empty. The pizza boxes, the beer cans, the lingering scent of greasy food—gone.

The TV flickered. The action movie had vanished. The screen buzzed with nothing but static.

Keith staggered back.

Then, from the hallway—

A soft shff shff shff.

The unmistakable sound of a razor gliding over skin.

Keith turned slowly.

He headed to the bathroom and slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, Andres stood naked before the mirror, the razor in his hand moving with slow, deliberate strokes.

He was shaving.

Keith exhaled in relief—until his eyes focused properly.

Andres’ skin was slick and glistening, but not with water. Blood trickled in thin rivulets down his body, streaming from deep, fresh razor cuts.

His neck. His elbows. His chest. Even lower.

Keith felt the floor sway beneath him.

Andres turned to face him, a soft smile playing on his lips, completely unfazed.

He tilted his head slightly, blood still running down his throat, and said—

“What?”

Chapter Text

Keith woke up at 6 am. His heart pounded so violently that for a second, he thought something was still wrong—like the nightmare hadn't fully let him go.

He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light creeping through the curtains.

And then he saw him.

Andres was right there, lying beside him, his body warm and solid under the blanket. He was just casually snuggled against Keith, scrolling through his phone, sending messages to someone.

The sight should have been comforting. It should have reassured Keith that everything had been just a dream.

But the panic still clung to him. His body remembered the weight, the touch, the things from the nightmare.

Keith inhaled and exhaled. It was fine. It was over.

Andres shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against Keith’s. Without looking up from his phone, he murmured, “You were mumbling in your sleep.”

Keith stiffened.

“…What was I saying?” His voice came out hoarse, hesitant.

Andres shrugged, still typing. “Dunno. Just a bunch of weird noises.”

A pause.

Then Andres glanced at him, amused. “Bad dream?”

Keith forced out a breathy laugh, rubbing his face.

“You have no idea.”

Andres chuckled but said nothing, giving Keith a puzzled, amused look. Then he started changing, completely unbothered by Keith’s presence. That was because Keith had assured him—many times—that he was the straightest straight guy to ever exist. So straight that circles turned into squares when he passed by.

Despite that, the straightest of all straight guys bit his lip and swallowed hard when he saw his friend standing there in just his boxers.

“Nice tattoo,” Keith commented.

“Oh, that’s covering a scar,” Andres replied.

“A scar?” Keith asked, intrigued.

“Yeah. Got it as soon as I turned eighteen. But the scar was there since I was sixteen,” Andres said casually.

“Uh… a surgery?” Keith guessed.

Andres shook his head. “Stitches.”

“Stitches? What, did you fall off your motorbike or something?” Keith asked, firing off questions without thinking.

Andres’ expression darkened slightly, but his voice remained light. “A classmate ambushed me in the school toilets one day. He wanted to beat up the 'school faggot'. When I fought back, he pulled a switchblade.”

Keith’s eyes widened in shock. He had no idea.

Andres arched his back in a stretch, preparing to head to the bathroom. But before he went to the door, he leaned over Keith, running his fingers through Keith’s long hair before tracing the back of his neck with his fingertips. A shiver ran down Keith’s spine.

“You should let your hair down more often,” Andres murmured before finally stepping out of the room.

Keith sat there, stunned, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs.

That… that was flirting, right? He just flirted with me. He knows I’m not gay, but he still finds me fuckable, doesn’t he? He likes my hair? I thought gay guys were into shorter hairstyles. But he flirted. He definitely did.

A strange image flickered in Keith’s mind—Andres fisting his hair, yanking it back with force.

He shook his head quickly, as if physically rejecting the thought.

That was—he wouldn’t like that, of course.

It was just a random thought.

Just a random thought.

After getting dressed and grabbing their backpacks, Keith and Andres left the house together, heading toward their respective classes. The campus was already full of students, running around in the morning sun.

Keith kept stealing glances at Andres, still thinking about their earlier conversation. Andres, however, seemed completely relaxed, chatting about some new hobby he’d discovered he liked. Photography? Something like that.

“See you at lunch?” Andres asked as they reached the main quad where their paths diverged.

“Yeah, see you,” Keith replied, forcing a smile.

He watched as Andres headed toward the engineering building and made his way to his lecture hall for art class.

Professor Reynolds was deep in a lecture about Art Nouveau, and Keith took diligent notes—but his focus kept slipping. Every so often, his mind drifted back to Andres.

As Keith stepped outside, he was quickly surrounded by a group of girls from his class. They chatted about midterms and weekend plans, joking and laughing.

One girl, Emma, seemed particularly interested in Keith.

Keith played along, distractedly engaging in the conversation—until something in the distance caught his eye.

On top of the Classical Studies building, Andres stood on the rooftop, camera in hand, taking photos.

Keith’s steps faltered. His gaze locked onto Andres, who was laughing and talking with another man. They stood too close, their body language easy, familiar.

Is this a date?

Keith felt something sharp twist inside him. His fists clenched before he even realized it.

Emma noticed his sudden distraction. “Keith, why did you stop?”

Andres was taking pictures of the guy, then showing him the shots on the camera. The man laughed. Andres smiled back.

Something boiled inside Keith, something irrational, something crazy.

Before he could think better of it, he muttered an excuse: “I, uh, just remembered I have a really important meeting with a professor in the Classical Studies building.”

Emma frowned. “Wait, aren’t those courses really difficult? Why would you take one of them as an elective—”

“I’ve always been interested in classic literature,” Keith interrupted.

That was a lie.

Before they could question him further, he turned and walked—no, practically stormed—toward the Classical Studies building.

Keith took the stairs two at a time before opting for the elevator. He knew exactly what this place was—a university café popular for dates.

The elevator doors slid open, and Keith stepped out, scanning the area.

Andres and the guy were still near the edge, talking, laughing.

Keith forced himself to stay calm as he approached.

“Hey, Andres!” he called out, feigning surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you up here!”

Andres turned, startled for a moment before offering a warm smile. “Keith! What brings you here?”

Keith shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Just needed a break from studying. Thought I’d grab a coffee. Mind if I join you guys?”

The other man glanced at Andres, as if checking if it was okay. Andres gave a small nod. “Sure, why not?”

Keith pulled out a chair and sat down, making sure to stay close. He asked about the photos, the view—anything to insert himself into the conversation.

But more than anything, he watched.

Watched the way Andres interacted with this stranger. Watched their smiles, their inside jokes, the way they leaned in a little too close.

Keith wasn’t going to leave Andres alone with this guy.

Not when every laugh and every shared look made his blood burn.

Chapter Text

The bus was late.

Keith sat next to Andres on the bench. The street was alive with voices, footsteps, the occasional honk. Andres sitting beside him made his skin prickle. Too close. Not close enough.

Andres was quiet.

Keith hated it.

So he started talking, trying to sound casual, trying to sound normal. "Man, you should’ve seen it today. The girls were all over me." He forced a laugh, throwing in some exaggerated gestures. “I think the gym’s finally paying off. Look—” He flexed his arm, flashing a grin. "Definition, bro."

Keith didn’t usually sound like that.

The words felt wrong coming out of his mouth, like he was trying on a voice that didn’t fit.

Did he even realize that?

Did he even understand that acting like some wannabe fuckboy didn’t make him look normal?

Who was he even trying to fool? There was no one else around. Just Andres.

And Andres knew.

Andres knew what Keith’s real voice sounded like.

Andres didn’t respond right away. Just sat there, tapping his fingers against his knee. Keith could feel it. The air between them. Thick.

Then Andres turned, his voice cutting through Keith’s performance like a blade.

"Were you trying to cockblock me today?"

Keith’s stomach dropped.

"What?" His laugh was too sharp, too forced. "No, man. Why would I—" He was talking too fast. "Why would I do that?"

Andres didn’t blink. Didn’t even flinch. Just watched him.

Keith’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. He forced himself to breathe slow, steady. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was imagining it.

Did Andres think Keith was jealous?

Jealous? Of a guy? No. That was ridiculous. Keith wasn’t jealous. He just didn’t think that guy was right for Andres. What did that guy even know about Andres?

Keith knew everything about Andres.

Everything Andres told him.

And even the things Andres didn’t tell him.

Right?

Keith’s chest tightened.

Wait.

Did he actually know?

He looked at Andres again. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The usual cocky grin wasn’t there. No teasing remarks. No easy, lazy conversation. Just that stare.

So maybe Keith didn’t know.

And that made him feel sick.

He was Andres’ best friend. Andres said that once.

But wait.

Did he say best friend?

Or just friend?

Why didn’t he say best?

Was that guy—that nobody—better than him?

No. No way.

Keith was better. He was hotter, funnier. Keith had style. Keith had a killer body. Keith had a big dick.

Then why did he feel so small?

So insignificant?

"It looked like you were trying to impress my date."

A pit opened in Keith’s stomach.

He needed to fix this. Redirect.

“Why don’t you ever take pictures with me?”

Andres blinked. “What?”

Keith shrugged, trying to look easy, casual, like his heart wasn’t jackhammering in his chest. "You take pictures of everything. Everyone. But never us. Never with me."

Andres leaned back, staring at the sky like the answer might be there. “I don’t know. I see you guys every day. It’s different. Candid moments are more my thing.”

Candid moments. He wasn’t in them.

Keith swallowed. “Maybe we should have more of those together.”

Andres smiled. Barely. Like the thought had only half-formed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The bus pulled up, brakes hissing like something alive. They climbed on, found seats at the back. Andres looked out the window, his face reflected in the glass. Keith’s leg bounced.

"You ever do black-and-white artistic nudes?"

Andres turned, slow. “What?”

Keith could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Too much silence. "It’s a classic, right? The human form. Shadows. Light. It’s—" He cleared his throat. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?"

Andres blinked. “I guess.” His voice was careful. Too careful. “Not really my thing.”

Keith wasn’t sure what the hell he was even saying.

Was he trying to convince Andres to take nude photos of him? Was that why he kept flexing, kept talking about how good his body looked after the gym?

What the fuck was coming out of his mouth?

He must be losing it.

Why was he steering the conversation there? Why was he pushing it in that direction, like some part of him was testing something?

"I just wondered if you ever thought about it." His throat was dry. "Capturing something… personal."

Something personal.

Keith knew he didn’t actually want Andres to realize what he was really asking. But at the same time… maybe he did.

Maybe he wanted to see if Andres’ mind would go there.

Because the way he phrased it—it was innocent. Completely harmless.

But in his mind, he was asking if Andres would ever film himself having sex.

And why the fuck was that the thing he was curious about?

Keith felt Andres’ eyes on him.

Staring. Watching.

Why was he staring?

Wait. Was there the slightest possibility that he... knew?

No. Impossible. Andres couldn’t know.

Keith and Andres stepped off the bus and approached their apartment building. They opened the door to their apartment, but the scene that greeted them was absolutely unexpected.

The living room looked like a tornado had hit it. Muddy paw prints were scattered across the floor, splattered across the walls, and even smeared across the furniture. 

Dax and Lo were in the middle of a chaotic struggle with a tiny, brown puppy, who was clearly having the time of its life. The puppy darted around the room with boundless energy, its fur coated in thick layers of mud. Dax was chasing it with a towel. Lo was armed with a bottle of shampoo and a small bucket of water, trying desperately to catch the puppy and give it a bath.

"Get back here, you little rascal!" Dax shouted, his voice full of frustration as he slipped on a patch of mud and almost fell.

The puppy yipped happily and zigzagged around the room, oblivious to the chaos it was causing. Mud splashed everywhere as it jumped onto the couch, knocking over a lamp and sending it crashing to the floor.

Keith and Andres stood in stunned silence, their jaws dropped in disbelief. 

"Hey, you two," Keith finally managed to say, trying to stifle his laughter. "What happened here?"

Lo, who had been trying to catch the puppy and was now sitting in a puddle of water and mud, looked up sheepishly. "Uh, we were... giving the new puppy a bath," he said, his face flushed with embarrassment. 

Andres, still wide-eyed, glanced at Lo. "Are we even allowed to have a dog in the house?" he asked.

Lo shrugged, looking uncertain. "I'm not really sure," he admitted, "but we figured we'd give it a try. It’s been, uh, a bit more challenging than we expected."

The puppy, sensing that it had achieved its goal of turning the apartment into a disaster zone, finally stopped running and began chewing on the corner of a couch cushion.

Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. "Looks like you guys have had a pretty eventful day. Maybe you should have started with a bath before letting him loose in here."

Lo gave a tired laugh. "Yeah, you could say that twice."

As they cleaned up the mess and tried to corral the muddy puppy, Keith and Andres exchanged amused glances.

It seemed like the whole puppy situation had pushed the incident aside, like it never even happened. Andres had already forgotten about it.

Or at least… that’s how it looked.

Chapter Text

Keith sat on the floor with Lo and Dax, learning how to play Dungeons & Dragons. Lo walked him through the rules and helped him create a character.

The tiny puppy was curled up next to them, fast asleep, its small body rising and falling with soft breaths. Every now and then, Dax would reach over and absentmindedly scratch behind its ears while Lo explained the finer details of spell slots and dice rolls.

Andres didn’t join. He said he had to study.

The game went on for hours. They laughed, rolled dice, made terrible decisions, and argued over mechanics. But through it all, Keith’s mind kept drifting.

Andres had been in his room for a long time now.

When he finally emerged, Keith noticed right away—he wasn’t dressed for bed. No, he was going somewhere.

This wasn’t the first time. It was happening fairly often now. Andres slipping out at strange hours, never saying where.

Eventually, the session ended, and Keith stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “I think I’m calling it a night,” he said casually. “Might meet up with Emma.”

Lo smirked. “Finally making a move?”

Keith just laughed it off, grabbed his jacket, and stepped outside.

He didn’t go to Emma.

Instead, he walked down the road a bit and stopped. Waited.

And sure enough—Andres left the house not long after.

Keith followed.

Andres walked at an even pace, completely unaware of the shadow trailing behind him.

Eventually, he entered a building.

Keith lingered across the street, staring up at it. Businesses occupied the floors—a gynecologist’s office, a place selling professional equipment for hairdressing salons, a real estate agency... All places that had absolutely nothing to do with Andres.

And then there was the studio.

Keith stepped closer, reading the details. A space available for rent—hourly, daily. Fully equipped. Professional soundproofing, high-end microphones, cameras

Keith took out his phone, his fingers moving quickly as he created a new, password-protected file. He typed the name of the studio, its address, and any details he could find from the sign outside.

His thumb hovered over the screen for a second.

He typed faster. He saved the file, locked it, and slid his phone back into his pocket...

As Keith settled into bed that night, his head was a mess. He drifted in and out, slipping under, then jolting back up without realizing it. One second, his eyelids were heavy, the next, his body twitched, and he was awake again—except he didn’t know if he had ever really been awake or asleep to begin with.

That's when he saw the windowless, photographic room, bathed in a reddish hue. The walls were adorned with photos—either faceless, dark figures or explicit, naked bodies.

The door handle began to jiggle wildly.

Click.

The door creaked open, letting in a rush of light and a breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and rose. 

There was someone there.

Then flashes.

The taste of strawberry daiquiri. A sensual voice hummed a familiar tune. 

The epitome of beauty—his imperfections, the mole under his eye.

Keith was hit with a peculiar flashback, a sense of déjà vu. 

Someone was completely naked, perched on top of Keith's chest, who was struggling to breathe under the unexpected weight.

"Do you want to see how I fuck that other guy?" he mocked.

Keith's heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening at the suggestion. He nodded, as he lay back on the bed.

The other man positioned himself over Keith's face, his knees straddling either side of Keith's head.

Without a word, he guided his cock towards Keith's lips. Keith's mouth parted slightly, as the firm, warm flesh pressed against his lips. Hard and insistent, he pushed into Keith's mouth, filling it completely.

The taste... Keith liked it.

Two hands found their way to Keith's hair, gripping tightly as he began to thrust.

Keith's lips stretched around the girth. With each move he drove deeper into Keith's mouth.

Keith gagged slightly, but the grip in his hair tightened, holding him firmly in place. The pace quickened, the thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

Keith looked up at him.

Andres forced himself deeper, hitting the back of Keith's throat.

Keith's alarm jolted him awake. For a split second, he was sure—absolutely sure—that Andres had fucked his face during the night.Then reality settled in, slow and disorienting. No, that didn’t happen. Of course, it didn’t. He needed to head to class...

Chapter Text

It had been days. Every night, Andres came home late. Every night, Keith waited.

He sat on the couch, staring at the TV, not really watching. Muddy —the puppy— was curled up on the rug, breathing softly. His toys were scattered around. A rope, a squeaky ball, something that used to be a stuffed bunny before he ripped its ear off.

The front door creaked open. Quiet. Careful.

Keith didn’t turn around. "You’re back late again."

Andres dropped his bag by the door. No response.

Keith stood. "You’ve been out a lot."

Andres sighed. "Yeah."

"Want to play?" Keith kept his voice light, too light. "Haven’t really talked in a while."

Andres shook his head. "Not tonight. I’ve got class early."

Keith clenched his jaw. "You always have class early."

Andres rubbed his face. "Keith, don’t start."

"Start what?" Keith folded his arms. "I’m just saying, you’re always busy now. Always somewhere else."

"Yeah," Andres said flatly. "That’s life."

Keith scoffed. "Right."

Andres exhaled, long and slow. "Can we not do this?"

Keith held his gaze for a second too long, then shrugged. "Goodnight, Andres."

Andres picked up his bag. "Night."

Then he was gone, his door shutting with a quiet click.

Keith stood there, staring at nothing.

Keith was pissed. Really pissed. He tossed the remote onto the couch and stormed off to his room.

He lay in bed, letting his mind build the scene he wanted.

Andres would knock. Step inside. Ask if he could come in.

Keith would act cold at first, arms crossed, jaw tight. But then Andres would sigh, say he was sorry for being distant, admit he’d been having a rough time. Because of that guy. That awful piece of shit he started dating.

Keith would stop sulking then. They’d talk. A real conversation. Something deep. Something honest.

That didn't happen.

That wasn't going to happen.

Keith grabbed his phone and opened the JJboys app.

He scrolled through Incubus' profile, his eyes fixated on the latest content. He put his earphones on and replayed the recordings repeatedly. All of them.

Minutes turned into hours as Keith lost track of time, obsessively re-listening every piece of content. The feeling of frustration didn’t fade; it only deepened.

Finally, as he was about to close the app, he noticed a small indicator that Incubus was now online.

Keith's pulse quickened. He hesitated for a moment, then composed a message, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.

He finally typed out a message: "I must have listened to the recordings a thousand times tonight." 

He hit send and waited. After a moment, Incubus' response popped up on the screen.

"Enjoying yourself, hm? I noticed you're a regular. This last week my notifications were on fire because of you. Check your inbox for something special."

Keith's eyes widened. He opened the message to find an attachment labeled "Just a little gift."

Incubus’ message continued: "I've noticed your preferences from your donations. I created this to match your favorite themes. I hope you enjoy this exclusive content. Thank you for being such a dedicated client."

Keith had never clicked on a file so fast.

When he saw the title of the recording, he nearly exclaimed in excitement. 

"Slave to 3 demonic monsters"

He quickly pressed play, eager to hear what Incubus had created just for him.

Chapter Text

The first thing Keith heard through the earphones was Incubus welcoming him.

"This is a roleplay I created especially for you, subby boy. Have fun, honey."

A bell sound chimed, signaling that from that moment on, Incubus was in character.

"I watch you in the darkness. You may not know it, but I always do. You're so cute when you sleep. Makes me wanna do things to you. Maybe I'll come on top of you. Tease you a bit. I like playing with you when you're asleep. Not that I'll stop if you wake up."

Keith could hear heavy breathing and wet sounds through the earphones. It was disturbingly realistic.

"Ah, looks like you're awake. The flash of red light cutting through the darkness, illuminating my face—are you afraid of that? Or maybe my eyes, those hollow voids, scare you? I prepared my teeth just for you."

He could hear rubbing and friction, like skin on skin. Like it was really happening in real time.

"Ah, I love touching your cheeks, your neck, your chest." Incubus let out a small chuckle. "What? You're trying to move? There's no use. You're trapped under my claws now. You're all mine."

The wet sounds grew louder, mixed with panting and moaning.

"Ah, that's it. I love rubbing my spiked dick on your chest. I've done it so many times while you were sleeping. But now you're awake. Good. I want you to know what I'm doing to you every night."

A shiver ran down Keith’s spine. This was making him feel... scared. And yet—he realized with horror—it was also making him painfully hard. More than anything else he had ever heard from Incubus before. Why? Why the hell was he having this reaction while feeling afraid?

"Take a good look at it. It looks unnatural, doesn’t it? This isn’t a human cock. It’s bigger, rougher. It has spikes. You like it?" Incubus mocked. "Let’s make you gag on it then."

Keith's eyes widened. The image it created in his mind made him swallow hard.

"Let’s press it against your lips."

Keith’s lips parted slightly. He could hear it. The sound of sharp barbs scraping against skin. The wet noises filled his ears, along with what sounded like soft gags.

His arousal grew. This was... addictive.

The pace quickened.

"Ah, deeper. Yes."

A series of choked gags and violent coughs followed. Wet, obscene sounds filled Keith’s ears.

"You should see it. Saliva mixed with other foul fluids is pooling in your mouth, seeping past your lips, running down your jaw. You look delicious. So,so delicious... It makes want to torment you more. Do you see it? Something appearing from the darkness? This horrid creature is my. I'll fuck your mouth and he'll..."

Incubus paused.

"He'll spread your legs, revealing your tight, pink hole. I'll let him fuck that little hole."

Keith's heart raced.

Sounds were heard, like gripping, positioning and pressing. The monster laughed with a sickening chuckle.

"Yes, yes that's it. Look at that. He is forcing his way inside you. Does it hurt? You love it when it does."

The sounds coming out of the earphones now were crazy. Loud moans, urgent thrusts, wet noises, gagging and muffled cries.

"Already had enough? No... Not so quick my cute, little plaything. I'm not done yet. Every gasp, every choked cry, will be met with another brutal thrust inside your wet mouth, another assault at your stretched hole."

Fuck...

Keith's hand slide down his pants and he was now jerking off. He didn't care what exactly that was he was jerking off to. It was too good.

"Mm... That's what I like to see. I enjoy fucking such pretty, horny little humans while they squirm and beg for more." Incubus purred, "You are so hard. I can't just let this dick of yours be. Let's call for another one of my creations."

An emerging sound was heard.

Keith was so close to filling his hand with hot, sticky cum, but when he heard Incubus calling another one he pressed his thumb on his slit and squeezed his cock. The more the better. The longer this torture lasted, the better. He was loosing his mind to this.

A slapping sound. And another one. A strangled cry escaping around Incubus dick.

"How does it feel? Your cock slapped while two demons are already ravaging you? He'll pinch your nipples, too. Are you sensitive there? Well, it doesn't matter if you are not. He'll abuse your nipples so much that they'll become sensitive. Pinching, pulling, twisting... until they are red and swollen. A sadistic little game between you and me."

All the demons started laughing at him.

Keith could feel his climax building, a desperate need for release that grew stronger with each sound. But he had other plans. He would tease himself in worse ways. He tightened his grip, squeezing his member painfully, preventing any chance of release. The sensation was maddening. He felt utterly dominated. And he loved it.

At that moment, he couldn't  admit that he would be nutting at Incubus' little gift for days to come.

Chapter Text

Keith sat in the back corner of the lecture hall. Even when he was sitting back there it wasn’t uncommon for girls to sneak glances at him, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. Today, however, Keith had only one thing on his mind: finding out who was the guy Andres was dating. In the middle of taking notes he was asleep at the wheel, his attention miles away from the professor’s droning voice

He held his phone low, scrolling through Andres' Instagram feed. After nearly an hour of determined searching, he finally found him. The username was "Edgy L."

"Pppft! Fuck off, Edgy," Keith muttered to himself. There was something coloring his thoughts. Something like jealousy. Not common jealousy. A kind of jealousy he wouldn't admit to himself.

Edgy’s profile was private. An obstacle. Keith quickly devised a plan. Using photos of a random guy he had deep-dived Shutterstock to find, he created a fake profile. The guy was more than attractive, with a bright smile and a strong physique apparent in all of the photos, and Keith paid for the rights to use them. He crafted the profile carefully, choosing a generic but appealing username, and started adding people immediately. The friend requests were accepted without hesitation, given the allure of the profile picture.

Over the next few hours, Keith diligently uploaded photos of picturesque places, trendy coffee shops, and exotic travel destinations. Each post accumulated likes. "Yes, now I seem legit," he thought, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Finally, Keith sent a friend request to Edgy. His heart pounded as he waited, but the acceptance came almost immediately. He felt a rush of triumph as he began to comb through Edgy’s photos.

Edgy’s Instagram feed was filled with moody, artsy shots. There were black-and-white photos of urban landscapes, close-ups of vinyl records spinning on a turntable, and candid shots of street art. Edgy had a penchant for tattoos, and his arms were adorned with intricate designs. He seemed to have a deep interest in music, often posting about underground bands and indie concerts he attended. There were also a few photos of him playing the guitar.

Keith scrutinized every post, every caption, piecing together a picture of Edgy’s life. He noted the comments, the interactions, trying to find any connection that could give him more information. "Now we wait..." Keith thought to himself. 

As the lecture ended and students began to pack up, Keith’s resolve hardened. He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt this overwhelming need to interfere, but the thought of Andres being with someone else ignited a crazy possessiveness in him. With a final glance at his phone, he stood up and joined the flow of students leaving the hall.

Keith arrived home.

Frustration started mounting as he repeatedly called Andres without success. Each attempt went unanswered. This was so irritating. He knew he had to find a way to get Andres to come over.

An idea struck him.

Keith sent Andres a text message: "Hey, I forgot my keys inside the apartment. I’m locked out and really need you to come let me in."

It was a complete lie. Keith had his keys with him; he just wanted to lure Andres home.

Keith placed his keys on the coffee table and left the apartment. He made sure to close the door behind him, deliberately locking himself out. He waited outside, pretending to be frustrated and impatient.

It wasn’t long before Andres arrived. He unlocked the door with a frustrated grunt. “What’s up with this?” Andres snapped as he swung the door open.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Keith said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Andres didn’t return the sentiment. “I was on my way to meet someone.” He was clearly annoyed, his tone clipped.

“Who are you meeting?” Keith asked, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to hide his curiosity.

“Just someone at a bar,” Andres said tersely, avoiding eye contact. “I left him waiting.”

Keith’s heart sank a little, but he masked it with a forced smile. “Alright, well, have fun. Maybe another time?”

Andres gave a curt nod and headed out. As soon as Andres was out of sight, Keith quickly pulled out his phone. He checked Edgy’s Instagram stories, his fingers flying over the screen. 

A new story caught his eye: Edgy was at “Suseta,” a popular gay bar in town.The story looked like something a guy would do to pass the time because he was bored waiting.

Keith’s heart raced. His plan had worked perfectly. But this wasn't enough to cause some serious friction. He sat down on the steps outside his apartment, staring at his phone. He knew he wasn’t done with this yet.

In the following days, Keith maintained his ruse with the fake profile. He diligently uploaded photos "with friends" and photos with his supposed sister, choosing images of people wearing sunglasses and hats that resembled the attractive guy he had chosen for the fake profile. He also uploaded stories from a "trip to Cuba" to keep it looking active and authentic.

He even added photos supposedly related to the guy's work, showing snippets of an office space, stationery, and occasional shots of a computer screen displaying complex graphs or designs. 

The likes and followers continued to pour in, bolstering the profile's legitimacy, and Keith kept spying on Edgy, who was blissfully unaware that someone was tracking his every move.

One of the next days what Keith was waiting for happened: A photo that showed Andres clearly. They were sitting close together, laughing and clinking their glasses in a toast. Edgy had added a caption: "Great night out with this amazing guy! 🥂 #goodtimes."

Keith slammed his phone down.

He quickly started his plan. It was awful. He knew it.

He waited a few days to not look suspicious, and then he started sending flirty messages to Edgy from the fake profile he had created. If it worked, it worked... and to Keith's surprise, it did. Edgy started replying equally flirty.

Every time Edgy responded with a flirty message, Keith's stomach twisted. He couldn't understand why he was so invested in sabotaging Andres' potential relationship, but he pushed the thoughts aside and continued with the deceit.

Their conversations grew more frequent and intimate, with Edgy opening up about his interests, favorite places, and even his hopes for future dates. Keith played along, pretending to be the guy from the photos, all the while feeling a strange satisfaction that he was pulling Edgy away from Andres.

The texts turned to sexting. Keith started it by sending a photo of his abs- his real abs- and Edgy took the bait. Soon Keith had conversations with Edgy asking when they'll meet so they can fuck, photos of Edgy's cock and videos of him jerking off. 

Keith quickly started taking screenshots of the conversations, carefully ensuring that every damning piece of evidence was captured. He created a new, anonymous email account and began sending the screenshots to Andres.

He made sure the emails were vague but provocative enough to catch Andres' attention. The subject lines read things like "Thought you should know." Keith included no text in the body of the emails, letting the images and conversations speak for themselves.

As he hit "send" on the first email, his heart pounded in his chest. He knew this was crossing a line, but he couldn't stop himself. He sent another, and another.

He needed to see how this played out. His emotions were a chaotic mess of guilt, jealousy, and a twisted sense of satisfaction. He didn't know what he wanted to achieve, but he knew there was no turning back now.

A few days later, Keith was in his room when he heard raised voices outside the apartment. He crept closer to the door, straining to hear.

"Don't play dumb with me! I saw everything. The messages, the pictures..." Andres was furious, his voice trembling with emotion.

"You went through my phone? Are you serious?" Edgy protested.

"Go fuck yourself! Or fuck him! I don't care!" Andres shouted, his voice breaking.

Keith felt a pang of guilt as he listened. He knew he'd caused this, but hearing the pain in Andres' voice made it all too real. He stepped back from the door, retreating to his room as the argument continued.

As he sat on his bed, he heard Andres storm back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Keith entered Café Amour, his eyes scanning the room in hopes of catching a glimpse of Andres. He knew Andres' schedule by heart—Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and Saturday mornings. 

Andres wasn't there.

Keith sighed and took a seat at one of the booths, pulling out his phone to send Andres a message.

Keith: "Hey man, when are you working this week?"

A few minutes passed before his phone buzzed with a reply.

Andres: "Hey, just been busy with stuff. How's it going?"

It looked like Andres was trying to sift the conversation away from the topic.

Keith: "All good. I was thinking of coming to the dinner with the guys. Are you working tonight?"

Andres: "Not tonight. Maybe later this week."

Keith: "Which day? Maybe we can all grab a coffee after your shift."

Andres: "Not sure yet."

Keith frowned at the vague responses. He doesn't know when he works? Something felt off. Determined to get answers, he approached a waitress who he had seen working with Andres before.

"Hey, Lisa," Keith said, trying to sound casual. "Do you know when Andres is working next? I keep missing him."

Lisa gave him a puzzled look. "Andres? He hasn't shown up for his shifts in weeks. I thought he might have told you."

Why is he lying?

Keith's heart sank. "No, he didn't mention anything. Do you know why he stopped coming?"

"I'm not sure what was wrong with him, but he kept nodding off during his night shifts. It got bad. Then one night, he and Dave got into it. I don’t know the details, but... I heard some things. Could just be gossip, though..."

She hesitated, glancing at Keith before lowering her voice. "He's your friend, so I guess you already know that he's... you know, not straight. Um... some people said Dave snapped because Andres was hitting on the clients."

That was... so weird.

"Do you know if he's coming back?"

She shook her head. "No idea. Management's pretty pissed, though. They might have let him go by now."

Keith thanked her and left the dinner. He hurried back home.

When he opened the door to their apartment, it was empty. Lo must have taken Muddy for a walk. Dax was out for a job. And Andres was nowhere to be found again. Keith pulled out his phone again and sent another message.

Keith: "Hey, when will you be home? How about we go for a jog together and make some smoothies? Lo and the puppy will also be here soon."

He waited, staring at the screen. No reply came. Frustrated, Keith slumped onto the couch.

Andres' vague responses played on repeat in his mind. Keith clenched his jaw, tossing the phone onto his pillow. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it all.

Andres wouldn't tell him, even if he pushed. Keith knew that.

Keith was deep in thought when his phone buzzed with a notification. He glanced at the screen and saw that Incubus was now online. He quickly unlocked his phone and opened the messaging app.

Incubus: Enjoying the gift?

Subby-boy: Absolutely. You really nailed it.

Incubus: I’m glad to hear that! I try to tailor things to my favorite clients. Anything specific you’re into?

Subby-boy: Well, I was wondering if you’d be up for a little request.

Incubus: Ooh, sounds interesting. What do you have in mind?

Subby-boy: I’d love it if you could wear a butler suit and sent me some photos.

Incubus: That’s a fun request. I think I can make that happen.

Subby-boy: I would love to mail you the suit as a gift. I trust you’ll know how to handle it.

Incubus: Leave it to me.

A few days later, Keith received a series of photos from Incubus.

One photo had Incubus leaning against a wall with a teasing smile, while another featured him adjusting his bowtie.

A third photo showed Incubus casually smoking a cigar. The way he held the cigar and the smoke curling around his lips made the image incredibly erotic.

In the next photo, Incubus' suit and shirt were unbottoned and he was touching his body while drinking wine, allowing the crimson liquid to trickle down his jaw and neck. It was so provocative.

Another photo showed Incubus without the jacket and shirt, just the pants of the costume and the bowtie. His toned torso was on full display, and he had a playful smile on his lips.

But the final image was the one that captured Keith’s attention the most. Incubus was wearing only the bowtie and the leather harness of the suit. Nothing else. He held a spanking paddle, licking it. The sheer audacity of the shot sent Keith’s pulse racing.

But that wasn't all. As a surprise Incubus included a short video named "Your demon butler is striping for you."

Keith’s eyes widened as he stared at the content. He replayed the video multiple times. He quickly typed out a message.

Subby-boy: You really outdid yourself. It's incredible.

After a while Incubus replied.

Incubus: Glad you like it, honey. I had a lot of fun making it.

Subby-boy: You know how to make a guy’s day.

Incubus: I sure do ;) Is there anything else you’re curious about or want to explore?

Subby-boy: I’d love to see more of your playful side. How about I sent you a script for a themed recording? I always wanted to be spanked and fingered by a butler.

Incubus: Do I keep my gloves on?

Subby-boy: That's why I sent you leather gloves.

Incubus: Can I also whip you with the belt? Pretty, please?

Subby-boy: You are getting carried away. I like it. 

Incubus: Just sent me the script and I promise you will be jerking off all night.

Chapter Text

Keith’s keys jingled in the hallway as he rushed to leave the apartment. He hadn’t realized Andres was already back because he had his earphones in, blasting rock music at full volume. Dax and Lo had already headed out for the odd job they had agreed to do, but Keith had overslept after hooking up with someone the previous night. Now, he was scrambling to get ready and make it on time. Keith was usually well-off thanks to his scholarship and part-time job as an editor, but lately, he had been splurging on Incubus, so he needed the extra money from that odd job.

He polished and laced up his combat boots, ready to head out when suddenly, he heard a faint yell over the music in his headphones.

“Fuck! Keith! KEITH!” Andres’ voice echoed from the bathroom.

Keith yanked out his earphones and dashed towards the sound. He found Andres standing in the bathroom, drenched from head to toe, clutching a broken sink pipe. Water sprayed everywhere, flooding the bathroom floor.

“Shit...” Keith muttered. He kicked off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs, and dropped to his knees next to Andres, who was cursing and panting.

Keith reached under the sink and closed the water valve. He was generally very handy and knew how to handle these kinds of situations.

But Andres wasn't. And he didn't look ok. He didn't look ok at all.

“Fuck this shit! FUCK IT! We all pay so much money for this  wreck of a home! I am done! DONE! Fuck!” Andres’ voice was erratic, his anger clearly stemming from more than just the broken sink.

“It’s okay, I’ll buy a new pipe,” Keith tried to calm him down.

“I don’t want a new pipe! I want to leave!” Andres suddenly shouted, his words dropping like a bomb.

Keith felt a wave of terror wash over him. Leave? Why? No, Andres couldn’t leave.

“Andy...” Keith moved closer, wrapping his arms around his friend in a hug. "It's okay, man. I'm here for you."

For a fleeting moment, Keith thought about kissing him. Actually kissing him, with tongue and all. 

“Fuck!” Andres suddenly broke free from the hug, standing up abruptly. He stormed out of the bathroom, tears streaming down his face.

Keith remained in the flooded bathroom, staring at his reflection in the water pooling on the tiles. What had just happened?

He took a deep breath and cleaned up the bathroom as best as he could before heading to his job. 

When he arrived there Dax and Lo were already doing the heavy lifting. As Keith tried to sneak in quietly, Dax noticed him and kicked him lightly on the ass. “You’re late, fuckboy,” Dax said, smirking. "Overslept again?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Keith muttered, rolling his eyes. "Had a late night."

"Late night, huh?" Lo chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Must have been some party."

Keith smirked. "You could say that. Let's just say it was... memorable."

Dax laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you never change."

Keith was sweating as he hefted a heavy box into the back of the moving van. His biceps strained, and he grinned at Dax and Lo, who were busy packing up more items from the house. Dax was struggling with a particularly stubborn sofa while Lo was tossing smaller items into boxes with reckless abandon.

“Man, this is like the workout from hell,” Keith grunted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Tell me about it,” Dax replied, finally managing to tilt a dresser onto its side. “But hey, it’s better than sitting through Professor Whitman’s three-hour lectures, right?”

Lo laughed, nearly toppling a stack of books. “Dude, remember that time we went to that house party after his class? Whitman’s voice was still ringing in my ears.”

Keith chuckled. “Oh yeah! Wasn’t that the one where Chad tried to do a keg stand and ended up breaking an arm?”

“Yeah. Chad,” Dax said, shaking his head. “He’s a legend, man... Speaking of legends, Lo you should have been at the concert I went with Keith. That mosh pit was insane!”

“Dude, I thought I was gonna die,” Keith interjected, laughing. “Especially when that giant dude in the Metallica shirt picked me up and threw me into the crowd. I was airborne for like, a solid minute.”

"No fucking way!" Lo laughed.

“Yeah, he was like a ragdoll,” Dax teased. “But you gotta admit, it was epic. Nothing beats live music.”

As they continued packing, Dax and Lo started reminiscing about their dorm days. Keith, not having lived the dorm life, was constantly asking them how it was.

“Man, dorm life was wild,” Dax said, grinning as he hefted a box of kitchen supplies. "One time we snuck a mini-fridge into our room.”

“Oh man, yeah!” Lo replied, laughing. “We hid it behind a curtain and filled it with beer. Every time the RA came around, we’d try to move it out to another room. We were passing it around like it was our secret stash.”

Dax smirked. “And then there was that night we decided to have a hot sauce challenge. Worst idea ever.”

“You were crying like a baby,” Lo teased. “But you know what was even crazier? The time I crashed  your car into a wall.”

Dax winced. "Yeah... he's still paying for that, by the way," he said, explaining what that the jar of cash in Lo's room labeled "Car Repair" was.

After a few hours of heavy lifting and packing, Dax, Lo and Keith decided to take a break. The sounds of moving boxes and clattering furniture were temporarily replaced by the clink of beer cans and relaxed chatter.

Keith popped open a cold can of beer, the hiss of carbonation escaping as he took a long gulp. He leaned back against a stack of boxes, letting out a contented sigh.

The conversation shifted and they were reminiscing about the wild night they had at a local bar three days ago.

“Man, Keith, you were something else” Lo said with a mischievous grin, leaning back on a couch.

Keith, sprawled comfortably with his beer in hand, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What did I do now?”

Dax snorted, shaking his head. “Dude, you were absolutely hammered. You kept hitting on Andres. It was hilarious.”

Keith nearly choked on his beer.

“What? I did what?”

Lo burst into laughter. “Oh yeah, you were all over him. You kept telling him he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. And you were buying him strawberry daiquiris.”

Dax joined in the laughter, smirking. “The whole table was practically buried under a mountain of those things. It was like a strawberry daiquiri apocalypse.”

Keith’s heart rate quickened, but he tried to play it cool. “What? I don’t remember any of that.”

Lo continued, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, and the best part? You even kissed his hand. Andres tried to stop you, saying he wasn't some priest, but eventually gave in. We were all laughing so hard.”

Keith almost had a heart attack.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “A hand kiss? Really? Man, I must have been out of my mind.”

Dax leaned forward, clearly enjoying Keith’s discomfort. “Yeah, you were pretty far gone.”

Keith forced a chuckle, though it felt strained. “Well, I suppose I was just in a particularly generous mood. Andres probably just looked like he needed some extra love.”

Dax raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but amused. “Actually, Keith, I think it was you who needed the extra love. Looked like you were about to propose."

Keith took another gulp of his beer, desperately trying to keep his cool. “Yeah, well, I’ll have to make sure not to drink so much next time.”

Lo shook his head, still laughing. “Dude, you were a riot. Don’t worry about it too much.”

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Keith felt a rising sense of panic. The realization that he had acted out and possibly revealed something was unsettling.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Keith slipped into the apartment, the clock already pushing past midnight. He moved quietly, hoping to make it to his room without drawing any attention. But, of course, Dax and Lo were still up, lounging in the living room.

He kept his head down, feigning exhaustion, and tried to slip past them.

"Holy fucking hell, dude!" Dax's voice cut through the quiet. "That girl you saw today devoured you, man! Your fucking lip is bleeding, and you're covered in hickies! And dude—your pants—"

Dax and Lo burst into laughter, their cackles filling the room.

Keith froze. His eyes darted to the hallway mirror.

Fuck.

His reflection screamed wrecked. Hair a mess, lips swollen and bruised, dark marks trailing down his neck. And his fucking pants—unbuttoned.

Shit.

Keith let out an awkward laugh, trying to fix his messy hair.

"Yeah, man, she was wild," he said, forcing a cocky smirk. "Best hookup of my life, I swear."

Dax and Lo kept laughing, throwing in a few whistles and teasing remarks, but Keith barely heard them. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through his ribs. His stomach was upset. A wave of dizziness was creeping in.

He mumbled something about needing sleep and quickly retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He sat on the edge of his bed, phone gripped tightly in his hand. He was going to delete it. He was going to delete it. His subby boy account, the JJboys app, the photos, the files—everything.

His thumb hovered over the screen, but he didn't press anything. Instead, he opened the app. Scrolled. Stared. His breathing grew shallow.

He switched to his messages. Andres contact. He typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. His hands were trembling uncomfortably.

Fuck everything.

With a sudden, violent movement, he threw his phone against the wall. It hit with a sickening crack, the screen shattering on impact. A broken gasp left his lips.

He turned to his desk, to the neatly stacked textbooks, the notebooks filled with his handwriting, the things Andres had given him last Christmas, the stupid little trinkets Andres had bought him. His vision blurred.

Keith grabbed the textbooks and flung them out the window. Papers scattered, pages ripped as they hit the ground below. He swept his arm across the desk, sending pens, notebooks, and fragile glass crashing to the floor. Then he reached for the gifts.

He hurled them out too.

The clothes he was wearing that night. Out of the window as well.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his body curling in on itself as a choked sob ripped from his throat. His hands fisted in his hair, tugging, pulling. His face twisted with frustration, anger, shame. He tried to stop it, tried to hold it back, but the tears came.

Angry. Ugly. Desperate.

Minutes passed—he didn’t know how many—before the sobs turned to shaky breaths. And then, without thinking, he stood up.

Barefoot, shirtless, he walked out of his room, down the stairs, and into the cold night air. He found his textbooks, his papers scattered across the pavement, Andres’ gifts lying in the dirt, his clothes.

One by one, he started picking them up.

He trudged back upstairs.

He dropped everything onto the desk, not bothering to sort it. Just another mess in a room full of them.

Keith didn’t care.

He barely made it to his bed before collapsing onto it, face-first into the sheets.

Exhausted, he let his eyes close.

When he opened them again Keith woke up to find his room filled with an eerie, unnatural fog. It looked like someone was smoking in there. All the window shutters were closed, with only a pale light seeping through the cracks. From somewhere, eerie music drifted in from the kitchen, a haunting melody that made his skin crawl.

Keith's ears picked up the steady ticking of an analog clock, a sound that shouldn't be there since they didn't own such a clock in the house. The usual noises of the night—cars passing by, students returning from late-night outings—were absent, replaced by an oppressive, unnatural silence.

His laptop was open on his desk, the screen glowing faintly. He stood up and tried to use it, but it lagged and began to show unsettling images:

Andres walking down a street,

Andres sitting at a café,

Andres on a bench,

Andres visible behind a half-open door, taking a shower.

Panic surged through Keith as he struggled to stop the images from appearing, but then the screen suddenly flashed red and shut off, plunging the room into deeper darkness.

His door was half open. Keith looked absentmindedly through the creak. 

Something stood just outside, its silhouette barely visible in the gloom. 

It... didn't look human.

Panic surged through him as he tried to scream, but he made no sound.

The figure began to move, slowly approaching. Keith's heart pounded in his chest, each step of the figure resonating like a drumbeat in his ears. He couldn't move a muscle.

The figure reached the opening of the door and stopped. In the silence, a voice spoke.

"You can lie to them. You can lie to yourself. But you can’t lie to me," the figure intoned.

Suddenly, a loud thunderclap shattered the silence, jolting Keith. He bolted upright, heart racing. It was 5 a.m., and the room was still dark. 

Mustering all his strength, Keith willed himself to move and stumbled out of his room. As he approached the kitchen, the smell of something burning hit him, mingled with a metallic tang. Blood stains were everywhere, smeared across the floor and countertops. Chicken intestines were scattered on the tiles.

Outside the kitchen window, a storm raged silently, lightning flashing without a sound. The eerie quiet amplified the terror that gripped Keith’s heart. 

To his shock, Andres was there, making breakfast. He was wearing nothing but an apron, and Keith's confusion deepened. 

Andres was standing by the stove, his back turned to Keith. Keith could see everything in tantalising detail. The long, beautiful legs stretched out gracefully. The toned, slim back arching slightly. The delicate waist that begged to be held. And the perky ass, perfectly shaped and inviting.

"Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" Keith asked, his voice trembling.

Andres turned to him, a playful smile on his lips. His eyes were red and swollen, like he had been crying for hours. "Don't you remember what we did last night?"

Keith's mind raced, desperately trying to recall any memory of the previous night, but it was blank. "I... I don't remember," he stammered.

Andres' smile faded, replaced by a look of disappointment. "Do you remember anything else you did?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

A wave of guilt and anxiety washed over Keith. He tried to piece together the fragments of his memory but came up with nothing. The fog of fear and confusion clouded his mind.

Without warning, Andres turned, his face twisted in rage, and lunged at Keith with the kitchen knife.

Keith's eyes widened in horror as the blade pierced his stomach, the pain radiating through his body. He gasped, blood spilling from the wound, and looked into Andres' eyes, which were now cold and unrecognizable.

...

With a scream, Keith jolted awake, drenched in sweat and trembling uncontrollably. He looked around, disoriented, and realized he was still in his room, safe. The terror of the dream lingered, leaving him shaken to his core.

Keith sat up in bed. He had class in an hour.

Keith decided to check his One Drive. Everything was still there. He hid the photos better and updated his password.

He grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed to the living room. “See you later,” he called to Dax and Lo, who were eating in front of the TV.

Lo looked up, a fork halfway to his mouth. “Want to eat something before you go?”

Keith shook his head. “No appetite, man. Thanks, though.”

He walked down the stairs and almost collided with Andres at the bottom. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. Andres looked dazzling, more beautiful and happy than ever. His hair was slicked back with small specks of glitter from the party.

Keith couldn't resist commenting. "Wow, you look like you had quite the night. Were you partying?"

Andres smiled slightly. "Yes. I feel... amazing."

Chapter Text

The library was quiet, with the occasional rustling of pages and soft whispers breaking the silence. Keith sat at a long table, surrounded by stacks of books and a computer, working on his term paper. His team project partner, Emma, sat across from him, her eyes scanning the pages of a thick textbook.

"How’s your part of the paper coming along?" Keith asked, looking up from his laptop and meeting Emma's eyes.

"It's going well," Emma replied with a smile. "I'm just finishing up the last section of the Renaissance Paintings Analysis. How about you?"

"I'm wrapping up the conclusion," Keith said, tapping a few more keys on the computer. "I think we've got a solid paper here."

Emma nodded. "It's been a lot of work, but I think it's really good."

Keith leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. "We make a good team," he said with a playful grin. "Maybe we should partner up more often."

Emma laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, we should. You're pretty easy to work with, Keith."

Keith's grin widened. "Maybe we could celebrate finishing the paper with a cup of coffee?"

Emma's cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded. "That sounds nice. I'd like that."

They walked side by side.

"So, where's your favorite coffee place?" Keith asked, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

"There's a little café just around the corner," Emma replied. "They have the best lattes."

"Lead the way," Keith said, smiling.

They walked to the café, chatting about their favorite shows and music. The conversation flowed easily.

After finishing their drinks, Emma invited Keith over to her place to continue their conversation. Her apartment was a short walk from the café, and they arrived quickly. 

Emma unlocked the door and led Keith inside. "Make yourself at home," she said, gesturing to the living room. "I'll grab us some drinks."

Keith sat on the couch, looking around at the cozy, well-decorated space. "Your place is really nice," he called out as Emma returned with two glasses of wine.

"Thanks," she said, handing him a glass and sitting down next to him.

They sipped their wine, the conversation continuing to flow easily. As the evening wore on, Keith found himself leaning closer to Emma, their shoulders brushing.

"You know," Keith said softly, "I really enjoy your company."

Emma smiled, setting her glass down on the coffee table. There was a moment of silence, and then Keith leaned in for a kiss. Emma met him halfway.

Soon they were making their way to Emma's bedroom, their hands exploring each other. As things began to progress, Keith found himself struggling to stay in the moment.

Emma noticed his hesitation and pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in concern. "Keith, is everything okay?" she asked gently.

Keith sighed, feeling embarrassed. "I... yeah," he admitted, avoiding her gaze.

Emma sat up, pulling the sheets around her. "It's okay," she said softly. "This kind of thing happens. Maybe we should just take it slow."

Keith appreciated her understanding, but he couldn't shake the growing sense of inadequacy. His body wasn’t responding the way he expected it to. He felt a knot tightening in his stomach, the pressure mounting. "Let's try this again." he insisted.

Emma reached out and touched his arm. "Keith, are you sure this is what you want? Maybe you’re still discovering your sexuality?"

Her question, though well-intentioned, hit a nerve. Keith's face flushed. The humiliation. The anger. "What? No, it's not that," he snapped. "Maybe it's just your inexperience."

Emma's eyes widened. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Keith immediately regretted his words, but the damage was done. "Um, I meant..." he tried to explain, but Emma had already stood up, her expression hardening.

"Get out," she said firmly, pointing to the door.

Realizing there was no point in arguing, Keith sighed and got up, quickly gathering his clothes. He dressed in silence. He cast one last look at Emma, hoping for a chance to apologize, but her back was turned to him.

He left her apartment.

All of his thoughts led him to one destination: back home. Incubus.

Incubus consumed his mind.

Keith went home like he was on autopilot, barely aware of anything but the pounding in his head. He shut the door, threw his jacket somewhere, and collapsed onto his bed, phone already in hand. His fingers moved without hesitation, opening the app, finding Incubus. He didn’t even think—just typed out a request, something filthier than before. Something that would push him deeper. He needed it. Needed Incubus. Nothing else felt real anymore.

He decided to browse through some new content. He navigated Incubus’ profile, scrolling through the latest photos and videos.

He clicked on a new video titled "Answering your Questions." In it, Incubus lounged on a plush, velvet couch.

"So, a lot of you have been asking about what goes through my mind when I'm jerking off," Incubus started, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "And well, who am I to deny my loyal fans?"

Keith's heart raced as he listened, leaning in closer to the screen.

"In those moments," Incubus continued, "I often think about dominating guys who are bigger and more masculine than me. There's something incredibly arousing about the idea of taking control, of having them at my mercy."

Keith felt a surge of enthusiasm at these words. Incubus's voice grew softer, more seductive. "I imagine them looking at me, wanting me, but unable to do anything without my permission. It's a powerful feeling."

Keith's eyes were glued to the screen, his mind racing with vivid images. He could see it clearly—himself completely at the mercy of Incubus' desires. 

"And then there are those big bro types," Incubus' voice dropped to a whisper, "I fantasize about them calling me Sir and letting me do whatever I please with them. Sometimes, I imagine tormenting them just a little, testing their limits. I'm a bit of a soft sadist," he admitted.

"I like imagining guys begging me to hurt them, asking to be spanked, to be punished. More often than not, I imagine tying them up, blindfold them and use toys on them."

"Lately, I've been thinking a lot about public places. You know, maybe I'll try teasing a boyfriend a bit on the subway. It would be adorable to see him blushing and getting hard but unable to do anything about it.

I also have something else I want to try—giving a boyfriend a handjob while we're at the cinema, watching a movie.

And then, the ultimate challenge: testing how well he can keep his voice down while I fuck him in the library. We wouldn’t want to get caught now, would we?"

Chapter Text

How many requests had Keith made to Incubus by now? He’d lost count.

Locking his door, he put on his headphones. His heart pounded when he heard, “Hey, baby,” instead of the usual “Hello, honey.” The change in greeting sent a sharp thrill through him.

“I read your request,” Incubus said, voice smooth and teasing. “I think you’re a very naughty, kinky boy. You’re slowly becoming my favorite. You are not allowed to touch yourself or cum before I say so. Close your eyes, sit comfortably, and let your imagination run wild.”

Keith’s stomach tightened with anticipation. It was about to start.

“Let the game begin.”

The small bell signaling the start of the roleplay rang. Keith had decided tonight he would test something. He had been thinking about it for a while.

“Running will only make this more enjoyable,” Incubus purred. “Don’t search for an escape that doesn’t exist. I have my ways of making sure you’ll never get away. What you see before you is my beloved tentacle creature, born of my essence.”

Keith heard a wet, slithering sound—tendrils moving, circling, waiting.

“What do I want from you? Isn’t it obvious?”

Something moved unnervingly fast. A sharp sound, like something shooting out, wrapping around flesh. A scream—cut short.

“Good pet,” Incubus murmured approvingly. “You are bound now. I must say, you put up quite the chase.”

Keith’s body trembled, betraying his excitement. He slowly unbuckled his belt, pushing his pants down.

“You look so frightened. There’s no need for that… yet,” Incubus teased. “The tentacles will tighten, not enough to hurt you, just enough to remind you who you belong to. We made a deal, man and demon.”

Keith poured lube into his hand. He was so hard but didn’t touch himself—he was following orders.

“I want to see you squirm.”

The wet sounds of something slimy rubbing against skin filled his ears. His fingers trailed lower. He started teasing his hole, rubbing slowly. Then, with a shaky breath, he pressed a finger inside. His eyes widened. It was tight. Uncomfortable. But it only made him more aroused.

“I’ll let it tease you,” Incubus whispered. “Let it wrap around your leg. Lift it. I want to see that hole. You feel it, don’t you? The powerlessness, the submission. It’s a heady mix, isn’t it?”

Keith pushed his finger deeper, breathing heavily.

“My pet will now pull your legs apart, lift your arms. I want you completely exposed and vulnerable. So I can do whatever I desire to you.”

Keith bit his lip. His cock was throbbing.

“It’s going to torture your nipples, your cock, your hole. I’ll let it cover you in its cum. I want it to seep through your clothes, to make you sticky.”

Keith swallowed hard, suppressing a moan.

“Look at you,” Incubus said, full of dark satisfaction. “Bound, wet, spread. It’s quite the sight.”

Keith pinched his nipple, gasping, trying to fit another finger in. His breathing was erratic.

“Oh, it wants to fuck your mouth now. I shall let it. Feel a tendril pressing against your lips, forcing them apart.”

Keith heard gagging sounds, wet and obscene.

“Don’t try to turn your head away. It will only go deeper.”

The slurping and thrusting noises grew louder, more intense.

“It loves invading all your holes. How does your ass feel now? Is it stretching? Does it hurt?” Incubus chuckled. “It usually puts in two. It likes them full. Wrecked. Destroyed. Torn apart.”

Muffled cries and desperate whimpers filled Keith’s ears, barely audible over Incubus’ low laughter.

Keith’s cock leaked steadily. His fingers moved inside himself more violently.

“I’ll lick the fluid trickling from your cock,” Incubus cooed. “And I’ll squeeze it. But you are my human slave, and you are not allowed to cum. No matter how rough it is. No matter how red and swollen your nipples are. No matter how many tentacles are inside your hole. No matter how much you gag. In fact—” his voice darkened, “I’ll tell it to move faster. To put one more inside you. To fuck you open.”

Keith came. Hard. Without even touching himself.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

This needed to work.

Keith walked into a small, modern establishment nestled in a bustling city street. A music shop that also sold tickets for shows. He passed the glass displays showcasing various memorabilia from past events. A large LED screen behind the counter displayed upcoming concerts and shows.

Keith approached the black counter, feeling a bit nervous. The clerk greeted him with a friendly smile. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking to buy two tickets for the Lady Gaga concert," Keith said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"Sure thing," the clerk replied, typing quickly on the keyboard. "You're in luck; we still have some great seats available."

Keith nodded, watching as the clerk printed out the tickets and placed them in a sleek envelope. He paid for them, took the envelope, and slipped it into his bag.

He repeated one thousand times the plan in his head.

When the day of the concert arrived, Keith was ready. He found Andres in the living room. Keith took a deep breath, trying to act casual. 

"Hey, Andy," Keith began, catching Andres' attention. "I know this might sound a bit out of the blue, but I have two tickets to the Lady Gaga concert tonight."

Andres' eyes widened with surprise and excitement. "No way! How did you get those?"

Keith chuckled. "I actually bought them a while back as a surprise for my girlfriend, but, uh, we broke up. So, I was wondering if you'd like to go with me instead?"

Andres' face lit up with a huge smile. "Are you kidding me? I'd love to! Lady Gaga is one of my favorites. Thank you so much!"

Keith felt a wave of relief and happiness. It fucking worked! It worked!

"Great! I'm really glad you can come. We should probably book a hotel near the stadium since it's a late concert."

They quickly booked a cheap hotel near the concert venue and packed their bags. The journey to the concert was filled with excitement and chatter about Lady Gaga's music and how amazing the concert was going to be. Keith wasn't a Lady Gaga fan. But he knew that Andres was.

When they arrived at their hotel, they checked into a modest room with only one double bed.

"Looks like we'll have to share the bed," Keith said with a laugh. His plan was working perfectly. He had booked the room with the double bed, telling Andres that there wasn't a room with two singles available and, oh what a pity, the other hotel with the single beds room was so much more costly.

Andres shrugged, smiling. "No big deal."

Keith nodded, trying to ignore the slight flutter in his chest. They dropped off their bags and headed to the concert venue. 

As they neared the stadium, Andres' mood was through the roof. He was singing and laughing and dancing. Keith was staring at his provocative outfit, tight pants that hugged his legs, a glittery tank top that sparkled under the lights, and many accessories.

Keith knew what was underneath. He had seen Andres pull something from his backpack when he went to change in the bathroom. A jock strap and a chest harness. Just imagining taking off Andres' clothes was driving him crazy.

The concert was everything Andres had hoped for and more. Lady Gaga's performance was electrifying, and the energy in the stadium was crazy. Andres danced and sang along to every song, their inhibitions fading with each passing minute. They drank, laughed, and let loose. Keith was close to him. Too close. Watching. Smiling. Fantasizing. Plotting.

At one point, Andres struggled to see over the crowd. Keith, feeling bold and playful, bent down and gestured for Andres to get on his shoulders. "Come on, you'll see better from up here!"

Andres laughed but didn't hesitate. He climbed onto Keith's shoulders, and Keith stood up, gripping Andres' thighs to steady him. The feeling of Andres' legs against his shoulders was turning him on.

Andres cheered, his face alight with happiness as he got a perfect view of Lady Gaga. "This is amazing! You're the best, oh my god!"

Yes. That was right. He was the best. Andres needed to feel that.

Keith would do anything for him. Anything. He would let Andres do whatever he wanted—everything he wanted.

This was heaven.

Andres sitting on him was heaven. The weight of him. The way his ass pressed against the back of Keith’s neck.

Andres’ hands gripping his jaw for balance—everything.

Fingers in his hair. Tugging. Controlling.

Heaven.

Keith smiled, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction. "Anything for you, man."

After the concert, they returned to their hotel room, ears buzzing, full of adrenaline and excitement. Andres flopped onto the bed, laughing. "That was incredible! I can't believe how close we were."

Keith nodded, sitting down next to him. "Yeah, it was definitely a night to remember."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Keith glanced over at Andres, who was beaming with happiness.

“First concert I ever went to? Snuck out. Grandma nearly skinned me alive when I came back.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Oh, this I gotta hear.”

Andres chuckled, shaking his head. “I was fifteen. There was this indie pop band playing in the city and I had to go. So I told my grandma I was staying at a friend’s house to study.”

Keith grinned. “Classic.”

Andres nodded. “Worked like a charm—until I came back at two in the morning, covered in sweat, beer, and god knows what else. She was waiting in the dark, arms crossed, slipper in hand.”

Keith laughed. “Damn. What’d she say?”

Andres put on a stern, exaggerated voice. “Andres, do you think I was born yesterday? You reek of trouble!”

Keith snorted. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Andres sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, after that, I had to climb out my window for every concert I went to.”

Keith smirked. “Gotta respect the commitment.”

Andres turned to him, smirking. “What about you? First concert story?”

Keith leaned back, crossing his arms. “Summer after high school graduation. My first mosh pit.”

Andres whistled. “Brave.”

Keith scoffed. “More like stupid. Some guy twice my size knocked me straight into the barricade. Split my lip open.”

Andres leaned in, eyes flicking to the faint scar on Keith’s mouth. “That’s where you got that?”

Keith nodded. “Bled like hell. Woke up the next day feeling like I got hit by a truck. Worth it, though.”

Andres leaned in closer, looking the little scar across Keith's lips. "Look at this smooth, pink sexiness." 

He laughed, turning Keith’s face to get a better look. "I was wondering where you got that. Nice battle wound. Guess you've been a daredevil since day one."

Keith couldn’t help but grin.

There was a pause as Andres examined the scar, his fingers brushing against Keith’s skin.

Keith felt his heart beat a little faster, a strange anticipation building in his chest.

He waited—unsure what he was waiting for, but it was something. He thought, maybe, Andres would lean in and kiss the small mark.

But it never happened.

Eventually, they lay down side by side. Keith stared up at the ceiling, still waiting, still hoping for something to happen.

But the room remained quiet. Even after Andres fell fast asleep beside him, Keith stayed awake in the darkness, waiting for something that wasn’t meant to be.

As the night wore on, exhaustion from the day’s events began to settle in.

Then, he heard it—a low, sinister chuckle, far too close to his ear.
Slowly, he turned his head toward Andres, hoping against hope that the noise had been a trick of his mind. But Andres lay there, undisturbed, breathing steadily in his sleep.

Keith's eyes darted to the right, and his blood ran cold. A shadowy figure with glowing eyes was standing in the corner of the room, staring at him. The figure was tall, its form barely visible in the darkness, but those eyes—those terrible, glowing eyes—seemed to pierce right through him.

Keith's body froze as the creature moved closer, its presence suffocating. It reached out, and he felt its cold, slender hands tracing over his shoulders, sliding down his arms, caressing his back and sides with an almost tender touch. His skin crawled at the sensation, and he wanted to scream, but his voice was caught in his throat.

“I know what you want,” the creature whispered, its voice like a hissing wind.

Keith started to whine, the sound desperate and terrified.

The creature snickered, a horrible sound. “You are so close,” it taunted. “He is sleeping right next to you. All you have to do is reach out. Just touch him.”

Keith felt his body begin to tremble uncontrollably, his mind screaming at him that this was just another night terror, but something dark and insidious was taking over. The creature's words slithered into his thoughts like poison, pushing him to do something unspeakable.

“F…fuck, stop this,” Keith whispered, his voice quivering with fear.

“Come on,” the creature coaxed, its voice dripping with malice. “Touch him. Just sneak a hand under his shirt. It’ll feel so good. He won’t even know.”

Keith felt like he was sinking, like the bed beneath him was giving way to some lightless, humid swamp, dragging him down into the depths. His limbs felt heavy, like they weren't his own, as if some unseen force was guiding his movements.

His hand moved against his will, trembling as it reached out towards Andres. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of Andres’ pajama shirt, and with a sickening realization, Keith found himself unbuttoning it. One button, then the next, then another, each button coming undone like a countdown to something horrible.

He slowly parted the shirt, revealing Andres’ smooth skin beneath. Keith’s breath hitched. His hand then moved lower, fingers trembling as they hooked into the elastic waistband of Andres’ pajama pants. He started to tug them down, inch by inch, his heart racing in his chest.

The waistband slid down from Andres' waist to his belly, then further to his abdomen. Keith's pulse thundered in his ears. His hand paused as he realized Andres wasn’t wearing anything underneath, the sight of bare skin making his stomach churn with dread and something disturbingly akin to excitement.

His fingers trembled as he tugged at the fabric, pulling it down slowly, revealing more of Andres' body. But something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

There was nothing there.

Keith’s mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. Where Andres' cock should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless expanse of skin. It was as if the body beneath his hands was not Andres at all, but a mannequin.

Keith's trembling hand hovered over the grotesque void. Something compelled him to touch it, to feel the unnatural smoothness, even as every instinct screamed at him to pull away. He hesitated, fear gnawing at his insides, but then his fingers pressed down.

The moment his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his hand. It was as if he had plunged his fingers into boiling oil. The agony was instant and excruciating, burning through his nerves and making him gasp in pain. He yanked his hand back, staring in horror at his fingers. They were covered in angry red blisters, the skin swollen and tender, as if scalded by something molten.

He tried to back away, but his body refused to move. His gaze, despite his terror, was drawn upward, toward Andres' face—or where his face should have been.

Keith's scream tore through the silence of the room, raw and guttural, as he realized the horrifying truth. The body lying before him was headless. Andres’ head was gone, leaving only a smooth neck. 

Keith’s eyes darted around in terror, desperately trying to understand, to find some sense in the madness. And then he saw it.

Perched on the shelf above the bed, like a macabre trophy, was Andres' head. It stared down at Keith with lifeless eyes, its expression frozen in an unnatural, vacant smile. The head looked detached, almost as if it had been placed there deliberately, carefully arranged to watch over the bed. Andres looked like a doll that had been disassembled and put back together wrong.

The smile on its lips twisted further, stretching impossibly wide. Then, to Keith’s utter horror, the head spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell me, honey?” The voice was sickeningly sweet and filled with a mocking undertone.

Keith’s chest tightening as panic surged through him. He tried to respond, to scream, to do anything, but all that escaped his throat was a strangled, muffled sound. His mouth wouldn’t open. 

“Ah, seems like you can’t talk. You poor thing,” the head continued, its tone dripping with false sympathy, almost reveling in his helplessness.

Keith’s hands trembled violently as they moved to his mouth. His fingers brushed over his lips, and that’s when he felt it—the horrifying realization that his lips were sewn together.
 
GDUP! 

A loud thud jolted Keith awake. He was drenched in sweat, his skin clammy and cold, and his head throbbed with a splitting headache that made his vision swim. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was.

Keith’s eyes darted around the room, There was no sign of the nightmare’s twisted horrors. Just the faint glow of the streetlight seeping through the curtains and the muffled hum of the city outside.

Then he noticed the source of the noise that had startled him awake. Andres was sprawled on the floor beside the bed, tangled in a mess of blankets that had been pulled down with him. He lay there, still sound asleep, his arm awkwardly draped over his head as if he’d simply rolled off the bed in his sleep. The sight was almost comical.

Keith let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, reaching out to gently touch Andres' hair. His touch was light, hesitant. "Hey, Andres," he whispered, his voice soft and low. "You fell off the bed."

Andres stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips as he shifted beneath the blankets. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, Keith thought he might just roll over and go back to sleep. But then his eyes fluttered open, bleary and confused, as he looked up at Keith.

“Wha—?” Andres mumbled, still half-asleep, his voice thick with drowsiness. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on Keith’s face, clearly disoriented by the sudden wake-up call. “Why am I…?” He glanced around, realizing he was on the floor, the blankets wrapped around him like a cocoon.

“You fell off the bed,” Keith repeated, a small smile playing on his lips despite everything. “You took all the blankets with you too.”

Keith extended a hand, and Andres took it, allowing Keith to pull him to his feet. First it was a small chuckle. Then they started laughing. Keith felt a warmth in his chest, a strange kind of contentment as he looked at Andres, still disheveled and half-asleep.

Chapter Text

Keith sat in class, completely detached.

He hadn’t packed his bag properly—no pen, no notebook, just the wrong textbooks from another subject. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t planning to take notes anyway. His gaze was fixed on nothing in particular, his thoughts drifting. Around him, his so-called friends laughed, whispered, passed notes, nudged his shoulder like he was part of it all. If asked, most of them would say Keith was their closest friend. But none of them actually knew him. They only knew the version of Keith he let them see—the lies.

Later, they all went out for a university event. Drinks, loud music, neon lights making everything feel unreal. Somewhere between rounds of shots and forced laughter, a girl—new to their group—leaned in and kissed him. Keith kissed her back with just enough enthusiasm to keep her interested. Inside, he felt nothing. No spark, no real connection. Just muscle memory. Just a part of the act.

As far as she could tell, everything was fine. Maybe even better than fine.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she murmured, a little breathless.

Keith smiled, easy, effortless. A lie. "Me too," he said, leaning in again.

No guilt. No second thoughts. Just another performance. He had played this game so many times before, people had started calling him a heartbreaker. A classic fuckboy. But the only thing he was actually breaking was himself.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere more… comfortable?” she suggested, hope flickering in her eyes.

Keith just smiled.

He didn’t care what happened next. He didn’t care about anything. He just needed to get through it without falling apart.

He had so many "friends" and no one to talk to. No one who would understand.

Started skipping classes? Check.
Buying notes instead? Check.
Plagiarizing essays? Check.
Changing friend groups every week? Check.
Drinking until blackout, waking up sick every weekend? Check.
Leading people on, having empty, unsatisfying sex, then going home to listen to Incubus?

Check.

When he finally left her apartment later that night, her messages started coming almost immediately. She hinted at wanting to see him again soon, and asked if he had made it home okay.

Keith glanced at the messages as they came in. He sent back flirtatious responses, each one crafted to keep her hooked.

He didn’t feel anything. He didn’t want anything. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. So, he kept up the game, leading her on with false promises and empty words, all the while feeling a hollow ache in his chest.

Instead of going home, Keith found himself walking toward a gay bar. The neon lights greeted him as he stepped inside. He ordered a drink at the bar, not really tasting it as he sipped, just going through the motions.

A man approached him not long after, tall and confident, with a smile that promised a good time. "Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked. He was handsome.

Keith glanced at him, nodding. "Sure, why not?" he replied.

They chatted for a bit, but Keith’s mind wasn’t really on the conversation. 

Eventually, the man suggested they leave together, and Keith agreed without hesitation.

They went back to the man’s apartment, and as soon as they walked in, the man turned to Keith, a suggestive smile on his lips. "Make yourself comfortable," he said, nodding toward the bathroom. "If you want to freshen up first, go ahead."

Keith nodded, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment, his face expressionless. 

He turned on the shower, stepping under the spray of hot water.

His mind drifted back to the cheap hotel room he shared with Andres. To the moment when he had secretly taken something that didn’t belong to him. When they were packing up to leave, Andres had mentioned that he couldn't find a certain item, but Keith had played dumb, acting like he hadn't seen it. 

But he had. 

He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't have taken it. But he wanted it.

Keith turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, his body still dripping wet as he reached for his jacket that he had left on the bathroom counter. With a trembling hand, he unzipped the inner pocket and pulled out the stolen item:

Andres’ jock strap. 

He brought it to his face, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply. The scent was still there, faint but unmistakable.

As he held it to his face, Keith let himself imagine being back in that hotel room. That something had happened. That Andres had actually kissed him. That Keith had let him—seduce him, undress him, play with him, mark him, fuck him.

Lately, he had been imagining this too often.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on to the feeling, trying to make it last. 

He walked back into the bedroom where the man was waiting. The man’s hands slid down Keith’s body, slowly tracing over his chest and stomach, before moving even lower. The man began to go lower. Keith closed his eyes tightly. The only thing he could picture was Andres. He imagined it was Andres' hands exploring him, Andres' mouth moving down his body, Andres' breath warm against his skin.

As they moved together on the bed, the man guided Keith down, and Keith followed. Every movement, every sensation, Keith reimagined as if it were Andres with him. He blocked out everything else—the man’s voice, the room around them, even the taste of him.

Everything was about Andres—Andres’ mouth, Andres’ hands, Andres’ body pressed against his own. As he took the man in his mouth, he imagined it was Andres. 

As the man lay back, catching his breath, Keith slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. He got dressed quietly, barely glancing back at the man who was now drifting off to sleep. Keith didn’t say goodbye; there was no need. As he left the apartment and stepped out into the cool night air, the emptiness only grew.

This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t who he wanted.

He walked down the street and pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked the screen. His mind was already drifting back to the one person who seemed to understand him in ways no one else did, even if that connection was so twisted. Without thinking twice, Keith opened Incubus chat and began typing.

"Are you available tonight?"

Incubus responded almost instantly.

"Baby, what can I do for you?"

Keith hesitated for just a moment.

"I want a private call," he typed. There was no need for elaborate roleplay tonight. What he wanted, what he needed, was something personal.

Incubus' response came quickly, "What are we playing tonight?"

Keith took a deep breath before replying, "Nothing complicated. Just be my horny boyfriend."

Chapter Text

Keith found himself wandering the streets until he came across a dark corner near a closed supermarket. The streetlights flickered above him. He glanced around, making sure no one was near, before he ducked into the darkness. He knew he couldn’t do this at home; Dax and Lo had girls over for movie night, and privacy was impossible. This was his only option.

His fingers trembled slightly as he pulled out his phone and quickly sent a message to Incubus.

"Can I call you? I need you right now."

A few agonizing moments passed before his screen lit up with a response. 

"Oh, someone can't hold back. Needy baby," Incubus replied, clearly amused.

Keith could feel his face flush. He typed back quickly, "Please... I really need this. Can I call?"

There was a brief pause before the reply came. "Call me."

Keith didn’t hesitate. He forwarded the call. The line connected, and that voice he knew so well came through.

"Hey, baby," Incubus purred. "You're so adorable, you know that? So needy tonight."

Keith’s managed to laugh softly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

There was a warm chuckle on the other end. "Don't worry, baby. I got you. Let's play pretend now."

Keith leaned back against the cold wall, a smile tugging at his lips. This particular request—out of all the ones he had made, all the gangbangs, the rape-plays, the monsterfucks—was the most messed up: the one where Incubus would pretend to be his boyfriend.

It sounded simple. Cute, even.

But it wasn’t.

Unlike the others, which were extreme but still clearly fantasies—detached, exaggerated, impersonal—this one hit too close to reality. It wasn’t about thrill-seeking or pushing boundaries.

It was personal.

This wasn’t just about sex.

And Keith knew it.

"Did you miss me?"

"More than you can imagine," Incubus replied smoothly. His voice was like honey.

Keith’s heart swelled at the words. "I have a little problem... Can you help me with it?"

"Of course, baby. You're my good boy, I'll help you with anything."

Keith closed his eyes.

"Tell me. Tell me things like these."

Tell me lies.

"I'm going to make you moan so loud ," Incubus whispered. With a soft chuckle. It sounded so real. It sounded so genuine.

Keith shivered at the promise, his hand already moving on its own, fingers brushing over the bulge in his pants. "I'm touching myself over my pants," he admitted, voice low and breathy.

Incubus let out a satisfied laugh. "Oh, go on. Take it out. Touch it more. Tease yourself. I want to hear you."

Keith smiled, his fingers pressing a bit harder. "I wish you could be here to see it," he murmured.

"I wish I could too," Incubus replied, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I want to kiss you so badly... I miss the way your hands feel on me. The way you hold me when I fuck you."

Keith closed his eyes, the imagery flooding his mind. "I want to feel you too," he whispered. "I want to hear you playing with yourself... for me."

There was a soft giggle on the other end. Playful and teasing. "You're making me blush, baby," Incubus confessed. "But alright, I'll tell you what I'm doing."

Keith couldn’t believe how real this all sounded. Out of all the fantasies he had indulged in—all the content he had listened to, all the porn he had consumed—this was what turned him on the most.

Something so simple.

Just being there, on the line with him. Living something that could never happen.

This was his ultimate fantasy.

Not the kinks, not the fetishism—just this. Being true. No shame. No secrets. Just two men wanting and loving each other.

"I'm slowly unzipping my pants," Incubus began. "Sliding my hand inside... thinking of you and how your tongue feels on my cock."

Keith swallowed hard, his own hand moving a bit faster now, desperate to match the rhythm Incubus was setting with his words. He bit his lip. "I am thinking of you all the time," he confessed.

It sounded like roleplay. Incubus believed it was roleplay.

But for Keith, it wasn’t.

This was real.

This was what was happening to him.

This was how messed up he had become.

"All the time?" Incubus teased. "And what are you doing while you were thinking of me?"

Keith hesitated. Another question. Another truth he could confess pretending it was roleplay. "I am... fingering myself," he admitted, his words coming out in a hushed breath. "Imagining it is your thick cock stretching me."

There was a brief pause, then Incubus' voice returned. "Oh, really? And how many fingers do you put in, naughty boy?"

Keith felt a shiver run down his spine. "Three."

This was true, too.

Incubus let out a low moan. "Oh shit," he replied, his voice velvety smooth. "Now you've got me all worked up, baby."

Keith's voice dropped to a whisper "I like pinching my nipples while I do it," he admitted, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "I love it. I want you to torture my nipples, while your dick is ramming inside me."

Incubus let out a low, approving hum. "Do you now?" His voice took on a teasing, almost dark edge. “You can’t even imagine what I’m going to do to you when I'll get my hands on you,” he said.

How Keith wished for this to really happen.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked eagerly, his heart pounding in anticipation.

"I'll strip you down to nothing, spread you out, and tie you to the bed—just how I like it. I'll start by fucking your face and abusing your nipples. Maybe slap your ass cheeks a little. I'll suck you, edge you, and when you can't take it anymore, I'll ruin your asshole. I won't stop until you're a trembling, moaning, cum-covered, crying mess."

That.

That was all he wanted.

There were no room for lies anymore. Not the lies he told to himself. Not the lies he told to others.

"I never thought I'll be jerking off, hiding in a dark corner near a supermarket."

Keith said it. Just like that.

A brief pause. Incubus wasn't talking.

“Wait, are you serious? You’re really out in public? Is this part of the roleplay, or is this actually happening?”

No sultry voice, no teasing, no provocations. Incubus sounded genuinely surprised. As if he was checking just to make sure. Just to be safe.

Keith’s breath was ragged as he replied, “No, this is real. I’m out in a parking lot, behind a supermarket. I’m almost at the edge.”

“W-what? Fuck...” Still, no 'Incubus' voice. This was his real voice. This was how he usually talked. How he usually sounded.

“Am I shocking you?” Keith whispered. His voice was trembling slightly.

Again a pause. A long, tense pause. Keith wondered if Incubus would terminate the call or report his profile.

Why was he so silent? Panic gnawed at Keith—what if he recognized him? What if he realised?

But suddenly Incubus’ voice came through, hot, heavy and unsteady. “Describe it to me.”

“I’m  away from any lights. It’s so quiet here. I’m standing, my back against the wall, with my pants unzipped. I’ve got my hand on my cock, teasing it. I’m so close.”

"How fast are you going? All out or taking it slow?” Incubus asked, his voice still sounding different, “And... are you teasing your slit with your finger?”

It was as if he’d momentarily forgotten that he was performing for a client. The lines were blurred.

“I’m—I'm going pretty fast,” Keith admitted, his voice shaky but eager. “And yes, I'm teasing my slit a lot. I can’t help it. The thought of you and the way you talk to me is just driving me wild.”

“Why don’t you also tease your nipples?”

Keith hesitated only a moment before his fingers drifted from his erection to his chest. He gently stroked and pinched his nipples.

“Are you doing what I asked? Are you playing with your nipples?” It didn't sound like Incubus was giving orders anymore. It sounded like he was pleading.

“Yes,” Keith replied breathlessly, his hand still moving over his nipples.

“Good,” Incubus continued, "Now, lower your pants a bit and use your fingers on your ass. I want you to fuck your asshole with two fingers.”

Keith’s pulse quickened. He slowly tugged his pants down. His fingers touched his hole. He pressed one finger in.

Incubus’s voice came through the phone “Are you—are you doing it? Are you fingering yourself?”

Keith could hear a stutter in Incubus’s voice. “Yes, I’m doing it,” Keith confirmed, his voice low and strained with arousal. His fingers was moving in and out.

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end. Incubus’ next words came out unevenly, betraying his excitement . “Oh, good. I… I didn’t expect you to actually—”

That was the break in his control.

Keith winced as he whispered into the phone, "I don't have any lube with me... it hurts. But I don't want to stop."

Incubus’ breath caught before he responded, "Spit on your fingers and keep going."

Keith obeyed, spitting on his fingers and continuing to move them inside himself. The discomfort was still there, but he wanted it. He let out a low moan. "It still hurts... but I like it so much," he admitted.

Incubus sighed deeply, almost like he was struggling to keep himself composed. "God..." he muttered, the arousal clear in his tone.

“Do you want to see a picture?” Keith asked.

“Yes...”

“Just give me a moment,” Keith said. He quickly adjusted himself, finding a spot where the light from his phone illuminated his body just enough. Sitting down, he took a photo that captured his cock, his legs, abs, and two fingers inside his asshole. The darkness around him was pierced only by the light of the phone, which managed to highlight the details clearly.

He sent the image and waited. A few moments later, he heard Incubus on the other end, breathing heavily. “You are so fucking hot... Fuck! Why are you doing this to me?”

Keith could hear the frustration in his voice.

“I'm just doing what you asked me,” Keith whispered.

Incubus' voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “Keep going. Cum.”

Keith chuckled softly, teasing, “Are you enjoying this?”

“... Please just... just cum. I want to hear it."

Keith let the silence linger for a moment before continuing. He was moaning into the phone and when he was satisfied with how much he fucked his hole, his hand finally went to his cock. Just a few pumps and he shot his load. “I just came,” he said, his voice low and satisfied.

He heard Incubus inhale sharply on the other end, “Send me another photo. Please.”

Keith positioned his phone and took a photo where everything—the evidence of his release, the state of his body—was clearly visible. 

A few moments later, he heard Incubus curse under his breath, followed by a soft whine. 

Keith smirked as he heard Incubus' reaction. He asked softly, "Did you like it?"

There was a brief pause before Incubus replied, his voice sounding flustered, "Yes... more than I probably should."

Chapter Text

Keith sat in the university lecture hall. His leg was bouncing under the desk. The exam papers were handed out. He stared down at the sheet in front of him. He hadn't prepared at all. The last few weeks were a haze of parties, sleepless nights, and wasted days.

Not only that.

His mind felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Thoughts came slow, sluggish, slipping away before he could grab hold of them. He felt like he was forgetting something important. His body ached, but he wasn’t sick.

He hadn't been sleeping well. He'd close his eyes, and hours would pass, but he never felt rested. When he did sleep, it was fitful, full of dreams he couldn't remember but woke up from feeling worse.

And now, sitting there, staring at the exam he was supposed to pass, he felt nothing. No panic. No fear. Just emptiness.

As the exam began, Keith reached for his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a slow sip.

His eyes flickered to the small, nearly invisible paper stuck inside. The tiny text contained everything he needed—terms, formulas, key concepts—all carefully typed out, shrunk down, and taped to the inside of his bottle. From a distance, it looked like any regular water bottle, but if he looked closely enough, the answers were right there. 

There was no guilt. He couldn’t afford to fail this course, not with how much he’d let his grades slip recently. His fingers moved swiftly, copying answers from the cheat sheet onto his exam. He kept his movements steady, calm, not drawing any attention. He was almost done.

When he finally finished, Keith turned in his paper. As he walked out of the hall, he tossed the water bottle in the trash.

Back at the apartment, laughter and banter greeted him. Dax and Lo were on the couch, a couple of girls with them, all deeply engaged in a D&D session. He hadn’t played with them in ages. Not since Andres stopped playing, too.

"Yo, Keith! What's up, bro? Finally out of the dungeon?" Dax greeted him.

Dungeon.

Keith mind started working. The word dungeon made his mind work. But not like a bundle of nerves firing off in quick succession, not like something sharp and alive. It worked like an old, rusted machine—grinding, sluggish, dripping thick oil that smelled like piss, cum and blood.

He stood in the doorway. The air in the apartment was thick. Syrupy. Like saliva on his lips.

Dungeon.

Leather. Chains. Gags. Rubber. Moaning.

The click of a collar. 

Pleasure. Emptiness. Pleasure. Emptiness. 

Dax laughed. Someone rolled a dice.

Camera angled just so. The glow of the ring light catching the curve of his throat. The little silver bar through his nipple. He didn’t even hide it anymore.

He could stop. He could stop anytime. 

His thoughts weren’t thoughts. They were a hundred buzzing wasps in a jar under his skull: Andres in a floral shirt. Andres smiling. Andres laughing. Andres crying. Andres talking. Andres' lip piercing. Andres cooking. Andres humming a song. Andres' fingers. Andres eyes.

What was that emotion?

What was that took him this far?

Was this his fall? His rebellion?

Was he becoming nothing against everything he was taught?

"The world is divided into two kinds of men: those who create, and those who consume. The masses? They're addicts—slaves to impulse, emotion, distraction. But the high-value man? He is the architect. The sculptor. He bends the world to his design, because he has mastered the first and most difficult art: himself."

"Emotion is noise. It’s weakness parading as depth. Control your emotions, and you control time. You control outcomes. You control everything."

"Art is not expression. It is domination of chaos. The high-value man creates beauty not because he feels, but because he conquers form. Poetry. Music. Body. Strategy. All refined to perfection. You are not a kid anymore. You are thirteen. You must be perfection."

Since Keith left that house and went to university, something began to shift. He started becoming what his parents would have called lower value.

It started with the music. Distortion—raw, ugly, honest. Rock. Metal. Punk. Screaming guitars and lyrics about failure and rage and freedom. 

Then came the clothes. Ripped jeans. T-shirts with offensive prints and band logos. His hair grew long. His skin lost its polished glow. He wore rings that turned his fingers green and a chain he never took off, even in the shower. 

The hobbies followed. Video games. Parties. Drinking. Crazy nights.

But the need never left. It just changed costumes. The hunger to be accepted—at any cost—still pulsed beneath every smirk, every casual shrug. He had to prove how cool he was. How effortlessly chill. How hot. How “high value” he’d been all along, just rebranded. He laughed like he didn’t care, posed like he was untouchable, played the game like he’d mastered it.

But none of it felt good.

Because the only thing that felt good was when he fantasized that Andres knew. That Andres saw him. That Andres wanted him. That he woke up in Andres’ bed, bruised and breathless, ruined,  wrecked in every perfect, irreversible way. 

The lights in the apartment flickered for a moment. Or maybe it was just his imagination. A hum built behind his ears. Like a thousand televisions hissing white noise, louder, louder.

Lo's chuckle brought him back to reality. "Yeah, man, haven’t seen you in a while."

Keith grinned, but it didn't feel like a smile. "Yeah, just been busy with, you know... university stuff," he lied easily.

One of the girls looked up from the game and smirked at him. "We’ve been missing our noble knight."

Keith leaned against the wall. Playing it cool. "The noble knight will be back… eventually. Just gotta get through some studying first in the library."

Lo laughed, shaking his head. "Studying in the library, huh? Sure, bro."

Keith gave a simple wave to the company before taking a quick shower. He grabbed his bag, put a couple of random books in and left the apartment. The library was the last place he was going.

His true destination was the Internet café just a few blocks away. 

He chose the computer in the far corner. He quickly logged into his account. JJ Boys.

His fingers trembled slightly as he typed in the name he so desperately needed: Incubus.

But as soon as Incubus' profile loaded, Keith's eyes widened in terror.

Everything was missing. "This profile is inactive or has been closed."

No.

No, he can't leave me.

Not now. 

This must be a glitch.

He searched frantically, but there was only the content he had purchased. 

Had something happened? Did Incubus block him? Or worse, did he recognize Keith and decide to vanish before things could get even more complicated?

He didn’t waste a second. He immediately opened the support chat for JJ Boys Team. He typed out a message asking about Incubus.

He waited. Desperation? Hope? He didn't want to believe what was happening.

After half an hour that felt like an eternity, a response finally came through. 

"Thank you for reaching out. We regret to inform you that Incubus has terminated his collaboration with our site. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."

He re-read the message, hoping he had misunderstood, but it was clear. Incubus wasn’t coming back. There was no explanation, no further information. Just a cold, impersonal notice.

Keith stared at the screen. A cold wave of panic washed over him as he started giggling nervously. Incubus was gone.

He closed the window and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the screen. 

He was losing it. Really losing it. Something was crawling up his spine. Something cold.

He knew—somewhere deep down, too deep to stop it—that he was about to do something horrible. Something reckless. Wrong. But it didn’t matter. Logic was gone. 

There was no Keith anymore. Just this thing—this pulsing, trembling mass of instinct and want and heat and fear. His body moved without him.

The world tilted, like it was about to spit him out.

His subconscious had taken over.

He pulled out his phone. He scrolled to Andres’ contact and pressed the call button. The phone rang once, twice, three times. He listened to the dial tone, each ring echoing louder.

But as usual, there was no answer.

He tried again. But the result was the same: voicemail. Keith stared at the screen for a long moment and then he send a message...

Keith: Andy I need to ask you something. 

Andres: sorry for not picking up, I'm in the middle of something tell me, what is it?

Keith's hands trembled uncontrollably. His breath quickened. He swallowed hard, but his throat was dry. 

His thumb hovered over the send button. His mind screamed to stop, to delete the  message —but he didn't. He pressed send, feeling the last shred of control slip away as the message was delivered.

The moment it was sent, a wave of nausea hit him. There was no going back. All he could do was wait.

He looked at the message again.

Keith: Do you want to have sex with me?

Chapter Text

Keith paced around the small room. Andres' room. His breath was shallow, chest tight. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his skin trying to somehow still the trembling in his hands. 

He heard the faint creak of the front door opening, and his heart lurched in his chest. Any moment now, Andres would come in. 

His eyes darted to the closed door. There was no turning back now.

When the door finally opened, Andres walked in. He stopped short when he saw Keith waiting. 

"Keith. We've been friends for so long, right? And suddenly, out of nowhere, you come up to me and tell me that you want to fuck me."

He paused, watching Keith closely. "Now, don’t get me wrong. You are a handsome guy. I would love to jump your bones. But let's be real here—you’re clearly just bi-curious. I don’t have the time or energy to be your experiment until you suddenly realise you are not attracted to men and start acting super weird and annoying or just straight up introduce me to your girlfriend.”

Keith flinched. His throat was dry. He struggled to find his voice. “I wouldn’t do something like that."

“Yeah?” Andres shot back, narrowing his eyes. “And what would you do? Date me? Be with me? Love me?”

Keith froze. Words sharp and dangerous. Words he wasn't prepared for. His lips remained sealed. Everything he wanted—everything he longed for—was right there, teetering on the edge, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach out for it. He had spent so long hiding, denying, pretending. And now he was afraid of saying it out loud. He was even more afraid of thinking it.

Andres’ gaze hardened. Disappointment. He let out a bitter sigh. "I thought so," he muttered, shaking his head. He quickly turned his back to Keith and started to walk toward the kitchen. To leave.

Keith couldn't see it. Keith couldn't understand it. A shadow of a past heartbreak that Andres hadn’t fully shaken off. Keith could only see his own reflection. Keith chose to retreat behind a wall of snark.

“So, what? You don’t do casual sex?” Keith’s voice was biting and bitter. He couldn’t help himself. It was easier to lash out than to confront the truth.

“There’s no such thing as casual sex,” Andres replied without turning around. “There’s always something subconscious behind attraction.”

The bitterness. The denial. The fear. A sick, awful feeling. He felt... unlovable. Angry. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Oh, really? Did you feel like that when you recorded your dirty moans and handed them around for money?”

There was only one word that could describe what just happened between them. Catastrophe.

The moment the words left his mouth, Keith regretted them. He saw Andres freeze mid-step, his body going rigid. When Andres turned around, his face was a mask of shock and horror, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What did you just say?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Keith’s heart sank. Dread. Now it was only dread. He tried to open his mouth, tried to take it back, but no words came. He was frozen in place, watching as Andres’ expression shifted from shock to fury.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Andres growled.

Keith gulped, the reality of what he had just done crashing down on him like a tidal wave. A weak, tight-lipped smirk of pain twisted across his face as he whispered, “I was the user... subby boy...”

How far he had fallen, how much his actions had spiraled out of control...

Andres felt as if the ground had just dropped out from beneath him. The moment Keith uttered the words, "subby boy," it was as if everything around him shattered into a million pieces. How long had this been going on? How many times had they hung out, talked, laughed, while Keith, all the while, was... he was...

There had been a point, during those calls with "subby boy," where Andres found himself looking forward to them a little too much. He had started to feel something, something dangerous, something that went beyond the boundaries he had carefully set for himself. It wasn’t just about the money anymore; there had been nights when he had finished a call, heart racing, wondering if there was something more to it.

That was when he knew he had to stop. That’s why he had left the platform. He terminated his profile, telling himself it was for the best. He couldn’t let himself get emotionally involved with a client, especially not someone like "subby boy."

Knowing that "subby boy" had been Keith all along made it maddening. He couldn't think about it without losing his mind. His sanity. This was so fucked up.

Every joke they shared, every glance, every casual touch—it all felt tainted now by this revelation. It was all a mess.

Andres’ face contorted with rage. “You fucking bastard,” he spat, marching toward Keith, his voice rising with every word. “What have you been doing behind my back?”

Keith took a deep breath, eyes darting away from Andres' accusing glare. His voice trembled slightly, not with emotion, but with guilt.

"Look, I wasn’t planning to… to do this. It just happened. You asked me to open your laptop that day to find your CV, remember? I was scrolling through your files and I stumbled upon a folder—Incubus. I didn’t think much of it at first, but when I..."

Keith paused. He tried to get through the explanation. But there was no way to explain something like this. 

"I... I was curious. I liked it. I kept listening, kept watching. I couldn't stop. I didn’t mean for it to get this far, to let it get to this point. I just… couldn’t turn away. So I kept coming back, again and again, because there was no one else who could do it like you. No one has ever made me cum so hard. So much. So many times."

Silence stretched between them. “So, that’s it? You just wanted a Dom?” 

Andres' eyes searched Keith's face for an answer that would never come. Keith just stood there, frozen, trapped in his own confusion, his own cowardice. 

The truth? What was the truth? It wasn’t just about control or submission, or the thrill of having someone tell him what to do. It wasn’t even about Incubus. No, it was something far more complicated, far more terrifying. He was madly, deeply in love with this man. But to say that out loud? That was something Keith couldn’t do. 

So he said nothing.

Andres grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward with a rough pull. His heart pounded in his chest, fear and shame twisting in his gut as Andres dragged him toward the door, shouting “Get out!”

Andres shoved him out of the room, trying to slam the door shut in his face. But Keith wasn’t done—not yet. He couldn’t let it end like this. He pressed his boot against the edge of the door, stopping it from closing. 

He pushed against the door, forcing his way back into the room. And then, before Andres could stop him, Keith grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into a kiss.

Andres bit down on Keith’s lower lip, hard enough to sting, and Keith moaned against his mouth. That exact moment Andres pushed his tongue into, demanding, rough, and searching. His hands gripped the back of Keith’s neck, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss.

It was violent. Sick. It felt like Andres wanted to ruin him. And Keith wanted it. His hands fisted in Andres’ shirt, pulling him closer.

This wasn’t just a kiss— it was a ticket to hell.

Chapter Text

"You said you wanted to have sex with me," Andres pulled Keith's head back by the hair, stopping the kiss forcefully. "What’s in it for me?"

Keith swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "You can do whatever you want to me." 

Andres leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "Whatever I want?"

"Yes," Keith breathed. 

Andres let go of Keith's hair and straightened, crossing his arms. "Before we go any further, we need to make sure this is safe. No confusion, no risks. You want to be submissive, right?"

Keith nodded quickly. "I want… punishment."

"Punishment?" Andres asked, his voice cooling. 

"Yes." Keith admitted, shame tugging at his words. He couldn’t meet Andres' eyes as he said it.

Andres studied him for a long moment before speaking. "If we’re going to do this, you need to be clear about your limits. No playing games here. What are your hard boundaries?"

"No asphyxiation. I don’t want anything that restricts my breathing."

Andres nodded. "Okay," he said. "Anything else?"

Keith shook his head, still avoiding Andres' eyes. "No. Just that."

Andres’ expression softened just slightly, but his voice remained steady. "I need to know that you’re serious about this, Keith. What do you want from me, exactly?"

Keith looked up at him. "I want you to fuck me up. Completely."

Andres sighed. "What's the safe word?"

"Red," Keith replied softly.

"Good," Andres said. "If anything makes you uncomfortable, you say it. No hesitation, no pushing yourself too far.

Also, I need you to understand something before we begin. This is not an exchange. This doesn't erase what you did. It won't make me forget, and it won't make things right. It's a contract we’re both entering into, and I expect you to respect that.

If you start blurring the lines, trying to twist this into something it’s not, I’m done. I won’t hesitate to walk away. The safeword isn’t just for your protection. It’s for mine too."

It didn’t take long for them to decide when and where their session would take place. Keith wanted it to happen as soon as possible. After some brief back and forth, they agreed on meeting at a hotel that very night.

Later that evening, Andres arrived at the location Keith had texted him. A luxury hotel.

Andres couldn’t help but wonder how much money Keith actually had. Booking a place like this for just one night… it made him realize that Keith’s background might be even wealthier than he’d assumed.

Dressed in all black, Andres made his way up the elevator and through the softly lit hallways.

This wasn’t one of their calls anymore. 

Reaching the suite’s door, Andres knocked once, firmly. After a brief moment, the door swung open, and there stood Keith. His eyes flicked down to the suitcase in Andres’ hand, but he said nothing at first, stepping aside to let him enter the room.

The suite was lavish, extravagant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a  view of the city skyline. Keith had clearly gone all out to make this night special. 

The door clicked shut behind them and Keith’s eyes were drawn back to the suitcase. "What’s in there?" he asked, his voice betraying the nerves and the excitement that had been building up for hours.

Andres set the suitcase on the bed and slowly unzipped it, revealing its contents. Inside was a variety of BDSM toys—restraints, floggers, clamps, blindfolds and vibrators. 

Keith nodded, swallowing hard as he took in the array of toys. 

Andres reached into the suitcase and pulled out a pair of black leather cuffs as he looked back at Keith. "We’re going to start slow," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "But by the end of tonight, I want to take you to places you’ve only imagined."

Keith’s pulse quickened, and he nodded again. His body was already responding to Andres’ words. He was so hard. 

Andres stepped closer. Keith's breathing was shallow, he was burning up. Andres looked down at him with an air of authority, adjusting his glasses as he began undressing Keith slowly.

He started with Keith's shirt, unbuttoning it one button at a time, his fingers brushing against the bare skin underneath. He didn’t rush. He took his sweet time, peeling back the fabric, letting each touch linger just long enough to tease. 

This was exactly what Keith had been fantasizing about. 

Andres removed Keith’s shirt completely and tossed it aside, his eyes never leaving Keith’s. He slid his hands down to Keith’s waist, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. Still slowly. Still teasing. As he pulled Keith’s pants down, he rubbed his hands against Keith's cock, getting a little whimper in response. 

Andres remained silent, giving just a slight murmur of approval. He wasn’t just undressing Keith; he was studying him, watching his reactions. He was enjoying every little shiver, every breath, every begging sound.

Once Keith was entirely stripped, Andres stood back for a moment. Keith lay there, completely bare, looking one touch away from cumming.

"Lay down on the bed."

It was the first command. Keith obeyed immediately.

Without another word, Andres reached into the leather suitcase, pulling out a set of handcuffs and locking Keith’s wrists together. Keith’s arms were bound above his head. Andres' fingers continued to graze Keith’s skin.

Then he pulled out something else from the suitcase—a spreader bar. Keith had never used one before, but he had seen it, fantasized about what it would feel like to be so completely open. Andres secured the spreader bar between Keith's legs, locking his ankles in place. The device forced Keith’s legs apart, keeping him spread wide.

Helpless. Exactly as he had imagined.

Andres, still fully dressed and standing tall in his black suit, loomed over him. 

He adjusted his glasses once more, his lips curling into a small smile as he looked down at Keith. "You’re ready for this?" he asked. His voice was low.

Keith swallowed hard. He nodded, unable to find his voice. His heart was racing. His skin was shivering. He wanted this. He wanted everything Andres was about to give him.

"Good," Andres murmured. "Because tonight, I’m going to take everything." He stood back for a moment, admiring his work, taking in the sight of Keith spread out and bound on the bed. He reached into his suitcase and pulled out a flogger, the leather tails hanging from his hand as he approached Keith.

Keith’s breath quickened as Andres swung the flogger experimentally. Its sound cut through the air, making him flinch before the first strike even landed. When it finally came, the flogger snapped against his inner thighs with a sharp crack, the sting biting into his skin and sending a jolt of pain through his body. Keith gasped, his muscles tensing, but there was no time to recover as Andres continued, delivering a series of well-aimed strikes across Keith’s thighs and up toward his chest. Keith’s body reacted instinctively, moving against the restraints, but there was no escaping. He liked it. He liked it so much. He wanted more. 

"You’re already this close?" Andres said, a mocking tone creeping into his voice as he noticed Keith’s hardening cock, twitching with need. "So desperate… so needy already." He shook his head in disapproval, and there was a cruel glint in his eyes as he reached into the suitcase again.

From the pile of neatly organized toys, Andres retrieved a cock ring and stepped closer to Keith, holding it up for him to see before slipping it on, tightening it around the base of Keith’s shaft. Keith groaned at the sensation, the tightness making his already throbbing cock even more red, trapping him in a state of frustrating arousal.

"You don’t get to finish yet," Andres scolded him, delivering another sharp slap to Keith’s member with the flogger. Keith moaned, the combined sensations of the ring and the sudden impact sending a shockwave through his body.

Andres’ hand moved back to Keith’s chest, fingers grazing over the sensitive skin before he pinched Keith's nipples sharply, drawing out a hiss from him. Keith’s back arched involuntarily, but Andres didn’t let up, twisting and pulling, teasing the buds until Keith was squirming beneath him.

"You’re so sensitive here," Andres murmured, his voice taking on a darker edge as he reached into the suitcase again and pulled out a set of nipple clamps. Keith’s eyes widened as he watched. Andres attached the clamps to his nipples, biting into his skin. The pain was sharp but dulled into a steady ache as Andres clipped the chain between them, giving it a gentle tug to test the tension.

Keith let out a cry, his body jerking involuntarily.

Andres chuckled, clearly pleased with the reaction, and gave the chain another sharp tug, watching as Keith’s body writhed in response.

But Andres wasn’t done yet.

He leaned over, reaching back into his collection of toys and retrieving a small bullet vibrator, a smirk forming on his lips as he showed it to Keith. "You’re going to love this," he murmured before attaching it to Keith’s trapped dick. Andres switched it on. And it was intense.

Keith was now begging and crying, his body tensing. It was overwhelming.

Andres continued to play with the chain between the clamps, tugging and twisting as the vibrator buzzed steadily against Keith’s cock. 

He stepped back for a moment, surveying Keith’s trembling, bound form on the bed. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

From his suitcase, Andres pulled out a bottle of lube. The cap clicked open. He poured a generous amount into his gloved hand. It glistened, coating his fingers. He laughed. He poured more directly onto Keith's  body, pooling over his abdomen, dripping down his entrance.

Keith shuddered. His body tensed. Andres leaned forward, his eyes locked on Keith’s as he began to slowly work the lube around his hole. He didn’t rush, he let Keith feel every touch, every stroke. He finally pressed a finger inside. Keith groaned, his head tilting back against the pillow as Andres moved his finger in and out, loosening him up. 

"Please..."

"I told you, you don’t get to finish until I say so." Andres growled as he added a second finger, stretching Keith further.

Keith whimpered, his body trembling. "Please," he cried again, his voice hoarse with desperation. "... please, let me finish."

But Andres didn’t stop.

Keith voice cracked. "I can't... take it anymore."

Andres didn’t reply, but a small smirk curled at the corner of his lips as he removed his fingers and reached back into the suitcase. Keith’s eyes fluttered open just in time to see him pull out a sleek, black dildo, the size of it making Keith’s heart race even faster. He bit his lip, his body tensing as Andres coated the toy in lube.

"Relax," Andres murmured, his voice taking on a dangerously soothing tone as he pressed the tip of the dildo against Keith’s entrance. "You’ll take it."

Keith moaned as the toy slowly entered him. Andres pushed it further inside.

Keith was shaking, his muscles straining against the restraints, his voice a broken whisper as he continued to beg.

Andres kept fucking him with the dildo, pushing it deeper with every thrust, making sure Keith felt every inch of it. He suddenly paused, taking in the sight of Keith, utterly wrecked beneath him.

Keith’s body trembled, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. His skin full of red marks, glistening with sweat and lube. His nipples were irritated, his cock veiny and purple, his eyes full of tears. He looked absolutely wrecked. His voice was cracking, he was desperately begging and for the first time that night, Andres decided to show him mercy.

"Look at you," Andres murmured, his voice soft as he leaned over Keith. "You are delicious. Really. Maybe you’d prefer something real, instead of this toy."

Keith's eyes, hazy with need, turned to Andres as he slowly pulled the dildo out.

Andres stood and unbuckled his belt with a soft clink, unzipping his pants. Keith's eyes followed every motion.

Andres smirked at the reaction, positioning himself between Keith’s legs, his gaze dark as he looked down at him. He pressed his tip against Keith’s entrance, teasing him for a moment before slowly pushing inside. 

Keith moaned and Andres pushed deeper. Every inch of him stretched Keith in ways that made him feel like he was losing his mind, and yet, despite the rough dominance, Andres was gentle. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over Keith’s before pressing into a soft, lingering kiss. 

Andres continued to move, his hips rocking with steady, powerful thrusts. Keith’s body responded immediately, the pleasure that had been building for so long now unbearable. He whimpered into Andres’ mouth, his lips parting as Andres deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting.

Andres’ pace quickened, his own breath becoming heavier as his release drew closer. With one final thrust, Andres climaxed, groaning softly against Keith’s lips as he spilled into him.

But even then, Andres didn’t stop.

Still inside Keith, Andres reached down, his fingers  removing the cock ring. He continued to move inside Keoth, now with the intent of letting Keith cum.

Keith cried out, his body convulsing with pleasure as the tightness in his core exploded into the most intense climax he had ever experienced. His entire body shook, tears springing to his eyes as the overwhelming wave of ecstasy crashed through him. The release was so powerful, so consuming, that Keith found himself sobbing from the sheer intensity of it all.

Andres moved. Gently, he began removing the toys. He unclasped the nipple clamps first, soothing the sensitive skin with his fingers, then freed Keith from the spreader bar, and finally, he unbuckled the restraints from Keith’s wrists.

Keith winced slightly as blood rushed back to his extremities, but Andres was quick to soothe him. He reached for a soft, warm towel and wiped the remaining lube and sweat from Keith's skin with slow, comforting strokes. His touch was gentle, grounding Keith. Once Keith was clean, Andres retrieved a plush blanket from the bed and wrapped it snugly around his shoulders, holding him close for a few moments. 

Andres knew Keith needed this. He let Keith rest his head against his chest, running his fingers through his hair and whispering soothing words of comfort. Keith’s body slowly relaxed, his breathing returning to normal as the waves of euphoria receded, leaving him spent. Andres gave him space when needed, bringing him a glass of water and watching closely to ensure he was okay.

As Keith settled back into the present, his eyes drifted to the luxurious spread of food he had ordered earlier, now sitting on the room’s small dining table. Platters of high-end cuisine were artfully arranged—there was lobster tail, served with a rich, buttery sauce; Wagyu beef carpaccio with shaved truffle; a selection of imported cheeses and cured meats; freshly baked artisanal bread; and a display of fresh fruit, from strawberries to exotic passion fruit. On another platter, there was an array of decadent desserts: chocolate fondants, macarons and crème brûlée with a perfectly caramelized top.

Keith, now feeling a bit more himself, looked over at Andres and asked, “Do you want to eat?”

Andres smiled softly, his stern demeanor completely gone. “Yeah,” he said, “let’s eat.”

They sat side by side. Andres picked up a fork,  slicing a piece of the lobster tail before feeding it to Keith. He continued to feed him small bites of the  food. Keith, in turn, did the same for Andres, feeding him pieces of bread dipped in olive oil, slices of cheese, and occasionally reaching for a glass of wine to sip. They didn’t say a word.

After a while, as they leaned back in their chairs, their bodies more relaxed, Andres looked over at Keith with a gleam in his eye. He set down his glass of wine and asked, his voice low and suggestive, “How would you feel if I took you against the window?”

The thought sent a thrill through Keith—the idea of being completely exposed against the floor-to-ceiling window, with the city lights twinkling just beyond the glass... He looked into Andres’ eyes, searching for something, and what he saw there made his heart race.

“I would love that,” Keith finally whispered, his voice breathless.

Andres stood, he took Keith by the hand, leading him toward the window.

As they moved toward the window, Andres slowly began to undress, shedding his black suit piece by piece until he stood completely bare. This time, there were no restraints, no toys, no dominance or submission—just the two of them.

Keith felt the shift in energy as Andres approached him from behind, his hands warm as they slid over Keith’s shoulders and down his chest. With a gentle nudge, Andres guided Keith to stand facing the window. This wasn’t the frenzy of lust and control they’d experienced earlier. This was something different—something more profound.

Andres pressed his body against Keith’s back, wrapping his arms around him in a tender embrace. His lips found the crook of Keith’s neck, kissing the sensitive skin there as his hands roamed slowly over Keith’s chest and down his abdomen. Keith sighed softly, leaning into the touch, feeling completely enveloped. He closed his eyes as Andres moved inside him.

The tenderness of it was overwhelming. The slow rhythm, the way Andres kissed Keith’s shoulder and neck, the warmth of his body pressed so closely against his own—it felt intimate in a way that Keith had never experienced before. It was as though all the walls he had so carefully constructed were crumbling, leaving him exposed in every single damn way.

Words that Keith had long kept buried began to rise, bubbling to the surface, desperate to be spoken.

“I’ve... I've had a crush on you for so long,” Keith confessed, his voice shaky. “I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Andres didn’t respond, but his arms tightened slightly around Keith, pulling him closer as their bodies moved in sync.

“I’m so messed up,” Keith continued, his voice breaking. “I’ve been struggling. I’ve been terrified of who I am... and I took it out on you. I sabotaged your relationship because I couldn’t handle my feelings. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the worst things possible. I... I was the guy you blowed at the party. The guy in the Scream mask.”

He paused, a sob catching in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispered, tears starting to form. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been a coward. I’ve been lying to myself, to everyone... to you. I don’t know how to fix any of this, but I swear, I’ll be honest from now on. I’ll try to be better. Just... please forgive me.”

Still, Andres said nothing. He just held Keith tighter.

Keith’s tears flowed freely now, but they were not just tears of sorrow—they were tears of release, of letting go. He had finally spoken the truth, and though Andres didn’t offer forgiveness in words, the tenderness of their connection in that moment felt like absolution.

They fell asleep in each other's arms that night. Keith woke up feeling strangely calm. The warmth of the bed still lingered, but when he turned to where Andres should have been, there was only an empty space. He thought maybe Andres was in the shower. But when he glanced toward the bathroom door, it was wide open, the light off, and the sound of running water absent. 

Keith sat up and scanned the room. Andres’ clothes, the suitcase—everything was gone. Keith jumped out of bed. He checked the entire hotel suite—no sign of Andres. 

Keith thought that Andres probably just needed some space. After all, last night had been intense, and maybe Andres needed time to process. 

Returning home that morning, Keith decided it was best not to push things, he opted not to go knocking on Andres' door just yet. He would give him time. 

He crashed on his bed, exhausted, and slept deeply for the first time in a while. No nightmares, no suffocating guilt, just peaceful rest. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky—it was past noon. He stretched, feeling lighter, as though last night had lifted a weight from his shoulders.

He rolled out of bed and made his way to the shared kitchen, where he found Dax and Lo sitting at the small table, casually eating dinner. Keith  grabbed a cup and poured some coffee, ready to tell them about the shift in his relationship with Andres, about how things had changed between them.

But before he could speak, Lo looked up from his plate with a casual tone “Hey, man, do you have any idea why Andy moved out last night?”

Keith froze mid-sip. "What?"

Lo continued, unfazed by the shock on Keith’s face. “Yeah, dude, like in the middle of the night. It was so sudden. Did something happen?”

Keith set down his cup, his heart dying. “Moved out? What are you talking about?”

Dax chimed in, leaning back in his chair, a frown crossing his face. “Yeah, it was such a ruckus, man. He was throwing his stuff into boxes, taking them out to some car. It was like he was in a rush or something. I asked him what was going on, but he just gave some vague excuse, handed us the last rent, and bolted. Left around 3 a.m.”

Keith’s stomach twisted as their words sank in. “You’re telling me... he’s gone?”

Lo nodded, picking at his food, clearly unaware of the bombshell he'd just dropped. “Yeah, man. Didn’t even say a proper goodbye. Just packed up his shit and left. Really weird, right?”

Chapter Text

The Art Café. A cozy, laid-back spot tucked into the heart of campus. Worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs. Hanging Edison bulbs, student artwork. A chalkboard menu above the counter displayed the day’s specials in messy handwriting. It was a place where students came to study, hang out, or just escape for a while.

Keith had arrived early, his eyes glued to the entrance every few minutes, watching as students and professors drifted in and out. It had been three months since the night at the hotel, three months of silence from Andres, and now finally, after dozens of unanswered messages, Andres had agreed to meet. But he was late.

Keith's phone buzzed once more in his hand, but it wasn’t the message he hoped for. He sighed, setting it face down on the table. He ran his hand through his long hair. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over again, but words were slowly losing their meaning.

Andres finally walked in. Keith’s heart jumped in his chest when he saw him. Andres' expression was distant, closed off. As he walked over to the table, his gaze didn’t meet Keith’s. He sat down quietly. He was stiff.

Keith had already ordered coffee for them. His fingers were tracing the rim of the cup in front of him. He remembered Andres' favorite. Once it felt cute to know such details about eachother. Now, it felt twisted. The drink was sitting there untouched. 

For a long time, neither of them said anything. Until Keith couldn’t stand it anymore. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Andres,” Keith began, voice low and strained. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times already, but I need you to hear me out.”

Andres didn’t respond, just stared at the coffee cup in front of him, fingers tapping idly on the handle.

Keith took a deep breath, steeling himself to confess everything. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I found out about Incubus by accident. It was when you asked me to open your laptop to look for your CV, remember? When I saw it, I thought you were producing music and... I clicked on it.”

He saw Andres flinch.

“I shouldn’t have,” Keith continued. “I'm not trying to justify anything. I'm just telling you all the truth. I started listening to everything. Every video, every audio clip. I even collected them, downloaded them. And then… I started collecting your pictures. Photos we took together, photos I took of you when you weren’t looking. I know how wrong that is, and I know it was sick, but I just… I...”

Keith’s heart raced as he pressed on, knowing that this would be the hardest part to admit. “I created a fake profile. I lured Edgy in, made him flirt with me just to break you two up. I was desperate for your attention, for anything from you. And that night at the mask party. The man in the Scream mask. That was me. It wasn't random. It wasn't a coincidence. I didn’t know how to handle any of it.”

Andres’ silence was suffocating. His eyes weren't meeting Keith’s. Keith felt his throat tighten, but he pushed forward.

“I feel awful, Andres. I know no apology can undo what I did. I can’t take back anything. But... I’ve been trying to fix myself, to understand what I’ve been doing. I came out to people, and I’m planning to come out to my family too. I’m trying to live my life truthfully now, no matter what happens.”

Keith’s voice broke slightly. “I know this was the worst thing I’ve ever done, but you’re important to me. It wasn’t just about sex. It never was. I—” He stopped himself from saying the words that were right on the tip of his tongue, the words that would make things worse.

He waited for Andres to say something, anything.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andres exhaled and spoke. Cold. Distant. I“This is all… too much for me. You complicated things way too much.”

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but Andres shook his head. “All of this—what happened between us, even that night at the hotel—it wasn’t healthy. None of it was. I regret that night. I regret it more than anything.”

Keith’s heart shattered. His eyes stung as tears began to well up. He forced himself to blink them back, but it was no use. “I probably deserve that,” he whispered.

Andres finally looked at him. There was no warmth in his eyes. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly, standing up from the table.

Andres turned and walked away, disappearing through the café door without looking back.

Keith sat there, tears now flowing freely down his face.

Chapter Text

Ten years later

Ten years had passed. Not too much time. Not too little time. For Keith, it felt like a lifetime. Because time passes slowly and beautifully when you live fully, not just half a life.

What had been his life before that night in the hotel ten years ago? It was a time that taught him who he was. Back then, he had waited for that one moment each day that made him feel alive—just to be real for a few fleeting hours. And all the other hours? Dreadful hours of waiting.

But now... Now it was different. Time had proven true what people say—it heals almost everything. No bitterness anymore. No pain. Just strength and an uncompromising pride. He had lost many things to the truth, including people. He was alone in many ways. But he had himself. And that was enough. No more shame. Only truth. Only freedom.

His phone buzzed. The time was 12:35. Keith walked through a dark, remote part of the city. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, accompanied by random bursts of laughter. The city was alive, but in this shadowed corner, it felt quiet, still. He slipped his phone from his back pocket, ignoring a slew of notifications, focusing only on the one message that mattered. His back pocket now held a slightly more stylish pair of trousers—sharper than the jeans he used to wear when he was younger, troubled, living with Lo and Dax. And Andres. Of course, Andres. Who could ever forget Andy? Certainly not Keith.

It was strange, yet Keith, the man he had become, couldn’t deny that what had happened between him and Andres was his first love. As fucked-up as it had been. How romantic.

But then again, it was romantic, in a dark and unflinchingly honest way. Because Andres had been the first person to see Keith’s true colors, the ones he had kept hidden beneath layers of black paint. How Keith had yearned for someone to scratch away at those layers, letting the colors bleed through in brilliant reds and purples.

The message on his phone read: "Tonight. Live show at DBS club. Use code 38."

Keith checked the location on Google Maps, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. His eyes scanned the dark streets around him. After another 15 minutes of walking, he reached the venue. Disappearing inside the nondescript building, he approached the entrance.

"38," he said to the person at the gate.

It was time.

Inside, the room was dim, bathed in a deep, sweet red glow, with blue lights casting a stark contrast, creating a mesmerizing picture of warmth and coolness. A stage stood in the center, illuminated like a canvas waiting for the artist's first stroke. Two people dominated the platform—one dressed in leather, the other adorned in lace and pearls. The crowd lounged on velvet couches, and some stood at the edge of the stage, captivated. One woman, with opera glasses in hand, watched with intense focus as the performers turned pain and pleasure into a stunning work of art.

Keith moved gracefully through the crowd, settling on a velvet couch with a glass of wine. It wasn’t his first live BDSM show, and guilt no longer haunted him. Those demons had long since been conquered.

As the show unfolded, a man approached.

"Keith," the man greeted him. He was a former Dom of his. The kind Keith had left behind.

Keith glanced up, unimpressed, taking a slow sip of his wine. The man had the nerve to sit down beside him, crossing his legs with an air of familiarity.

“If you want to—” the man began, but Keith cut him off.

“No. Not in a million years,” Keith said, his tone sharp, dismissive.

The man chuckled, leaning closer. “Still holding onto some animosity, I see. What a pity.” He reached out to touch Keith’s leg.

Keith’s gaze hardened, and his eyes flashed with warning. His voice was like ice. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, come on now... I’m sure you’ve got some pent-up frustration. Word gets around. I know you haven’t had a Dom in a while. I’m always available,” the man suggested, his smirk betraying his intentions.

Keith’s expression didn’t falter. “And you’ll stay available. I’m not interested in men who don’t understand boundaries or do not know when to leave the practice in the bedroom.”

In the past, expressing himself like this would’ve been nearly impossible for Keith. He had been the master of bottling things up, keeping his thoughts and feelings locked away until they exploded in unhealthy ways. But not anymore. 

The man’s smug demeanor faltered, and he stood up, visibly annoyed. Without another word, he walked away, leaving Keith with a quiet, satisfied smile.

The next morning, Keith went about his routine. After a long day of work, he sought his usual refuge—a small, peaceful park tucked away from the city’s hustle. It was his creative sanctuary. With his graphic equipment slung over his shoulder, he found his spot on a wooden bench, setting up to take photos, write, and sketch. This had become his ritual, a moment to let his thoughts flow freely.

Around him, the painters had already set up their easels. A street performer he recognized was playing soft music on a violin, adding to the peaceful ambiance. There was also the woman with her fluffy dog, the one who was always around, casually chatting with others while her dog explored the grass.

"How’s the flow today, Keith?" asked one of the painters as she mixed colors on her palette.

"Better than yesterday," Keith replied with a grin, adjusting the focus on his camera as he caught the fading sunlight hitting the trees just right. "Though I think it’s more the park than me. The light’s perfect."

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "You always give the credit to everything but yourself."

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. The violinist chimed in between songs, playfully teasing Keith about how he should photograph her next performance, while the dog-walking woman waved her goodbyes for the evening. 

As they chatted, the sky began its nightly transformation, shifting from blue to a warm red, then blending into vibrant orange, and finally settling into deep purples. Children played with a ball nearby and someone far away was leading a group yoga session. The park was alive.

It was then that Keith’s eyes caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed before. Near the far side of the park, tucked beneath a large oak tree, was a tent. Its fabric was dark, with silver symbols embroidered along its edges. A small wooden sign out front read: "The Black Cards of What Was, What Is, and What Will Be."

A fortune teller.

Curiosity stirred in Keith. He had never been one for these kinds of things, but today, something about it pulled him in. Maybe it was the colors in the sky.

As he approached, the flap of the tent lifted, revealing a woman cloaked in deep indigo robes. "Come in," the fortune teller said.

Keith hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

In the middle of a small table lay a deck of dark cards, their backs etched with swirling patterns of silver. Without a word, the fortune teller shuffled the deck, spreading the cards before Keith.

"Pick four," she said.

Keith’s fingers hovered over the deck before drawing his first card. He turned it over: Spring.

The fortune teller smiled faintly. "How beautifully your wounds have healed. All your magic, all your power—birthed by pain and distress. You've become the person you were always meant to be, shaped by your struggles."

Keith’s heart beat a little faster as he reached for the second card. He flipped it to reveal "The Ghosts".

The fortune teller's voice lowered, her eyes meeting Keith’s as if seeing through him. "People left you behind when you embraced your truth. Your family. Your friends. It’s the price of authenticity."

Keith swallowed, feeling a familiar ache in his chest. The truth stung, but it wasn’t new to him. He had lived this truth for years now.

He pulled the third card: The Trees.

"But not everyone left," the fortune teller said softly, her tone offering a strange kind of comfort. "There are a few who stayed. Those who see your soul for what it is and remain by your side."

Keith nodded slowly. His mind flickered to the few friends who had stuck with him, the people who had accepted him, flaws and all.

Finally, with a deep breath, he drew the last card. 

"The Horned God of the Night"

The fortune teller’s gaze sharpened. Her voice took on a weight that seemed to echo in the small space. 

"He has marked your heart. His presence lingers, even after all these years. He will return to you."

Chapter Text

Keith woke up to the sound of someone whispering, their voice thin and sickly like it was being dragged through a long tunnel.

"Pssst… Keith… it’s time to wake up."

His heart lurched in his chest. The voice came from outside his bedroom door, slithering through the crack like something tangible, almost wet. 

"Keith…" The whisper turned into a low, eerie hum. "It’s time…"

Slowly, he forced himself upright, listening as the voice faded into silence. His mouth was dry, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled on a black shirt and black trousers.

Stepping out, the roads were completely empty, not even the usual hum of distant cars. The world seemed muffled, as if he were inside some hollow shell. Yet, there they were: people dressed in black like him, walking in slow, deliberate steps further down the road.

He followed.

Their movements were strange, stiff but fluid, as though they were all operating under a shared rhythm. They turned their heads slightly, just enough for Keith to notice, but every time he strained to see their faces, they sped up, slipping further away like shadows fading under the streetlights.

The figures led him to the edge of a cemetery, a familiar one. The kind of place he had passed a thousand times but never really noticed. His legs carried him toward the gathering without thought, as if he belonged there. As he approached, the sight hit him like a punch to the gut.

A coffin, polished and cold, lay in the center of the gathering. His father’s coffin. Dark wood, so dark it was almost black, with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe in the corner of his vision if he stared too long. A deep red velvet lined the edges, the kind used for something meant to be permanent.

His father lay inside, his elderly frame still, hands folded neatly across his chest. 

His mother stood nearby, her black dress stark against her pale skin, flanked by his aunts and uncles. He rushed to her, stumbling over his own feet.

“Mom…” His voice sounded wrong, distant.

His mother’s head turned slowly, her face betraying no recognition. Her eyes locked on his, dull, empty.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice cold and detached.

Keith froze. “Mom… it’s me.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but not in recognition—only confusion, as if he were some stranger who had wandered in off the street. “I don’t have a son,” she said flatly, her voice barely above a whisper but sharp enough to cut through his thoughts like glass.

His blood ran cold. The people around her—all of them—turned their eyes on him. Aunts, uncles, cousins, none of them said a word, just staring, their faces expressionless, lips unmoving, as if they were waiting for something.

"I... I just wanted to-"

His mother’s gaze drilled into him, unblinking. “I don’t have a son,” she repeated, and the words echoed, ringing inside his skull.

He stumbled back, away from the gazes. Behind the crowd, in the distance, someone stood alone, watching. The figure was blurry, but something about them tugged at his memory. Familiar. Almost comforting, like someone he should know.

Keith's gaze darted back to the coffin.

His father’s eyes were open.

Wide. Staring directly at him.

A sarcastic smile stretched unnaturally across his face, the corners pulling too far. His lips quivered, and his chest, unmoving before, now heaved slightly, like he was choking on laughter that wouldn’t come out. 

Keith staggered back, his stomach twisting with nausea, bile rising in his throat. His feet stumbled over each other as he turned away from the coffin, running toward the distant figure. His legs felt like they were wading through thick water, each step heavier than the last. The figure was there, always just out of reach. Every time Keith thought he was close enough to touch, the figure disappeared, reappearing further away, always watching, always waiting.

"Pssst... Keith..."

As if sensing Keith’s eyes on him, the man turned and before Keith could move, before he could call out, the man was gone, slipping away between the headstones like a wraith.

Who was that? Who was that man who had come to his father’s funeral and vanished as soon as Keith noticed him? 

Keith pushed away from the ceremony, tearing through the sea of black-clad mourners. He sprinted past gravestones, his breath quickening as he chased the man, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He could see the man ahead of him. Keith's adrenaline surged, propelling him forward. This was a dream he had lived too many times, always just a breath away from catching up, yet never close enough to grasp the truth. But now, for the first time, he felt like he was gaining ground, the space between them closing as he sprinted through the mausoleums and over the uneven ground.

Finally, with one last desperate lunge, he caught the man’s arm. They both fell to the ground. Keith landed hard. Fear. He looked down, heart in his throat, to see the familiar face.

“Why?” Keith gasped, wrestling with the emotions swirling inside him. A tempest. Anger. Longing. “Why were you at my father's funeral?”

Andres looked up. A strange calm washed over his features, as if he had expected this moment for a long time. “Are you finally ready to accept it was me?”

Keith suddenly jolted awake. This time, he was awake for real. As he took a deep breath, he felt the tension seep from his shoulders. He had become adept at this—calming himself in the wake of a nightmare, reminding himself that those shadows were just that: shadows.

Keith pushed the dream aside, refusing to dwell on the past. It didn't matter if it was him or not. 

Standing up, he walked into the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. While waiting for the kettle to boil, he tidied up the small kitchen. Dishes from the night before were stacked neatly, and the countertops were clutter-free. This was a far cry from the chaotic existence he had once lived. 

As the kettle whistled, he grabbed a favorite mug with a quirky design—an old gift from Lo that read “This is my happy mug.” He smiled at it. Lo was one of the people who slowly disappeared after college.

Once the water was hot, he steeped his tea. He quickly scrambled a few eggs, before toasting a slice of bread. That was his usual breakfast.

He moved to his bedroom, choosing a fitted black shirt and tailored trousers that highlighted his sturdy and muscular frame. 

He stepped out into the cool morning air and breathed in deeply.

Work. Hm. Fuck.

His day at work was again one of those endless ones—emails, meetings, the same monotony that always left him feeling drained. By the time he clocked out, he found himself at the park, retreating to his usual remote bench. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with his palms, feeling the tension still coiled on his eyebrows. His bag of graphic design equipment lay in his lap, as he stared out at the trees swaying in the breeze.

He wanted to be alone, but there was also an ache in him for someone—someone who wouldn’t judge him, someone who could listen without asking for too much. But there was no one today, just the park, the faint rustle of leaves, and the promise of rain in the air.

A single drop of rain landed on his arm. Then another. Keith looked up at the sky, watching as the clouds darkened overhead. He stayed still, letting the rain fall freely over him. He loved that feeling—the quietness, the sensation of the water running down his skin.

And then, it poured. The rain came down in heavy sheets, soaking him instantly.

"Of course," he muttered, with a rueful smile. The one day he forgot his umbrella. A coincidence, perhaps, though Lo would have called it fate.

He hadn’t seen Lo many years, but their talks about fate still lingered in his mind. Keith shook his head at the thought. Fate? No. For him, fate was just a series of chaotic, unconnected events.

The rain continued to pound down, drenching him completely, but he stayed.

He was happy, wasn’t he? Things were good now. But good still meant that sometimes, he felt alone.

Just then, a small wet blur caught his eye. A dog—a muddy ball of fur—came hurtling toward him, leash dragging behind it as it ran with reckless abandon through the rain. Keith leaned forward, amused by the sight, when he heard a voice calling from behind.

"Muddy! Come here! Muddy!"

The man chasing after the dog finally caught up, holding a stylish, colorful umbrella over his head as he hurried toward the runaway pet. He scooped up the sodden creature in his arms, laughing as the dog shook vigorously, spraying water everywhere. Keith smiled faintly at the sight, wiping some droplets from his face.

And then, his eyes met the man's.

The Horned God of the Night.

So many years.

So many years had passed, but there was no mistaking him.

Andres stood there, holding the squirming dog, his stylish coat dripping from the rain, his face framed by the ash tones of his dark, wavy hair. His features were sharper, more defined. But he was still Andres. The delicate glint of feminine earrings hung just below his earlobes, and everything about him seemed effortlessly beautiful.

How long had they been staring at each other? Five minutes? Ten? Time felt irrelevant in that moment, washed away by the rain and memories. Keith’s heart pounded in his chest, yet neither of them said a word. The rain kept falling, a steady soundtrack to the silence between them.

And then, without a word, Andres stepped closer and extended his hand, gently placing the umbrella over Keith’s head.

The weight of everything unsaid hung between them. It felt impossible to speak.

Andres broke the silence first, voice soft and clear. "How have you been?"

Keith swallowed, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. "I'm good. Like, for real."

Andres nodded, his gaze lingering on Keith. "Do you want me to take you somewhere?" He glanced at Keith’s soaked clothes.

Keith gave a faint smile, feeling the absurdity of it all. "If there was anywhere I was interested in going, I wouldn't be sitting on a park bench, in the rain."

For a moment, Andres seemed stunned by his response. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, and they stood there, locked in the moment. The only sounds around them were the rain tapping softly on the umbrella and the quiet breaths of Muddy.

After what felt like an eternity, Andres took a deep breath. "Do you want to grab a coffee with me?" he asked, though his tone was hesitant, almost unsure.

Keith stood, a half-laugh escaping him before he could stop it. "You don’t drink coffee, Andy," he murmured, the old nickname slipping from his lips like it had never left.

Andres smiled faintly, a small, nostalgic curve of his lips. "Yeah. I don’t."

They both stood there for another beat. Neither of them moved, but something had shifted, something beyond the storm, beyond the silence.

Maybe, this was what Lo called fate.

Chapter Text

The next day.

The café was quiet. A soft hum of conversations surrounded Keith as he sat at a table near the window, staring out into the street. He was taller, sharper. His once "alternative college kid" look had transformed into something sleek, all-black, smart-casual that suited his muscular frame. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves, and his hair, shorter and coiffed back. A silver ring on his finger, and a minimalist bracelet on his wrist, an old gift from an ex lover he no longer cared to keep in contact with.

Across from him, Andres strolled into the café. Andres had grown even more beautiful. His hair was darker now, wavy and falling in a modern mullet that framed his face. He wore an eccentric blend of boho and occult-inspired clothing. A vape hung lazily from his hand, and a stylish leather bag over his shoulder. 

Andres approached and sat down across from Keith, exhaling a light puff of vapor before speaking.

"I read your articles, you know," he began. "Self-acceptance, sexual health, trauma recovery... I’ve read everything you’ve written."

Keith raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn't expected Andres to keep tabs on him after all these years.

"And your art," Andres continued. "The projects you've done over the years. I listened to the podcasts you were invited. I saw your activist work. It's... amazing."

Keith managed a small, somber smile. "I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone."

Suppressed pain.

"After that… after you… I decided I’d live my life truthfully."

Andres nodded, taking a slow drag from his vape. He looked at Keith with concern. "How are you doing now?" he asked softly.

Keith looked down for a moment, the question settling into him. He wasn’t one to dwell on his past, but with Andres, it felt necessary. When he looked back up, his expression was blank. "My family disowned me."

Andres’ eyes widened. "Disowned?" he echoed, his voice cracking slightly.

Keith took a deep breath, pushing down the familiar ache that always followed this story.

"They’re wealthy, sophisticated and big-headed. They always expected perfection from me. Since I was a kid, I had to be in control of everything. I was scheduling study sessions when I was six. Had art exhibitions in galleries by ten. Managing my own money at twelve. Living alone at fourteen. They treated me like an adult—emotionally, mentally. I had no room to be anything less than perfect.

I was criticized harshly. Consequences were always economic—no money for a month, no credit card, no extras, no asking. Everything came with a price tag, and it was always clear I hadn’t earned the right to exist comfortably. Love wasn’t taken away directly, but access was. Support was conditional. Mess up, and suddenly you’re budgeting survival.

And feelings? Feelings were a joke. Something embarrassing. Something to be corrected. I was constantly shamed just for having them. Sad? Too dramatic. Angry? Ungrateful. Excited? Naive.

Even the suspicion of a crush—at nine years old—was treated like a failure. My father called me a sissy and a doormat. Endless teasing, lectures, warnings about how feelings ruin lives.

I still remember at twelve a girl had a crush on me and left a short note in my school bag—just a heart drawn in pen and some really innocent, cute poems. My mother found it. And then it became a joke. Not once. Every day for three months. Three whole months of mocking. Little comments, exaggerated voices, bringing it up out of nowhere like it was comedy gold. I learned pretty fast that even being loved was something to be ashamed of.

At sixteen, my father decided it was time for lessons. Specifically, lessons on how not to become abnormal. Being gay was a mental problem, according to my father. Apparently that was something you could accidentally stumble into if you weren’t careful enough. 

And women? The only thing I needed to know was how to avoid the “dirty" ones. STDs and accidental impregnations. Women would try to trap me by becoming pregnant.

I was being taught to be afraid of everyone, including my own body."

Andres remained silent, listening carefully as Keith continued.

"Of course, it backfired. At twenty, I went to therapy—on my own. Turns out I had severe anxiety disorder and cptsd. No surprise there, huh?" Keith let out a dry chuckle. "After therapy, I tried to let go of control. I told them I was gay, but they dismissed it. Over and over. ‘You’re confused,’ they said. When they tried to arrange a marriage for me four years ago, I refused. We had a huge fight, and that’s when they disowned me. Told me I wasn’t their son anymore."

Andres' eyes softened.

"Keith, I..." Andres cleared his throat, visibly holding back his emotions. "I know it’s not the same, but... I understand. My family wasn’t wealthy or influential, but they were very religious and traditional."

He smiled bitterly, shaking his head. "From the moment I was born, they drilled it into me—sex is sin, desire is sin. Everything was about obedience, about following their strict teachings. They decided who we were, what we wore, how we acted... even how we felt."

Keith watched him carefully, seeing the pain that mirrored his own in Andres’ expression.

"I never told them I was gay. They found out," Andres continued, his voice lowering as he recalled his past. "When they did, they wanted to send me to a religious conversion camp." He scoffed, but the humor was bitter. "I refused, and they kicked me out. Told me I had abandoned god and that I will be welcome in their home again when I'll reconsider my 'life choices'."

For a moment, there was silence. Andres set his vape down on the table and leaned forward slightly.

"I know it's different, but I get it. What they did to you… what you went through. It stays with you, even when you're trying to move on."

Keith shifted in his seat, his gaze drifting from Andres to the street outside.  "So… how’s life for you now? Are you happy?"

Andres exhaled slowly, running a hand through his wavy hair. He leaned back in his chair, seemingly weighing the answer in his mind.

"It’s better. A lot better than it used to be, I guess. I’m doing voice acting now," he said, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "It’s been a wild ride."

Keith’s eyes widened slightly, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

"Yeah, I know," he said with a chuckle. "I’ve played quite a few games where you’ve voiced characters. Especially that masterpiece from last year. You absolutely killed it. Didn’t you win Best Performance at the Game Awards for that?"

Andres nodded. "Yeah. That was… unexpected, to say the least."

Some minutes passed without none of them speaking. The café hummed around them, but it felt like the world had slowed down. Then, out of nowhere, Andres broke the quiet.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Keith blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. He looked at Andres carefully, trying to gauge where this was going. But he didn’t reply.

Andres smiled softly but there was something darker in his eyes. "I just broke up with someone." he said.

Keith’s expression remained neutral. "Yeah?" he muttered.

Andres nodded, taking a slow breath before continuing.

"He was married. I didn’t know that when we started seeing each other. Found out the hard way when I ran into him at a restaurant during a work dinner." He laughed, but it was hollow.

Keith’s lips thinned, and all he said was "I see."

Andres ran a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry I disappeared. I was afraid and overwhelmed. I just couldn’t handle what happened between us."

Keith’s gaze hardened, but he could see the sincerity in Andres’s eyes. "It was probably for the better." he replied.

The silence returned, heavier this time. Andres watched Keith for a long moment, then spoke again, his voice dropping just slightly.

"Are you still into BDSM?"

Chapter Text

Keith stared at his phone.

Andres’ message had been sitting there for three days. Polite. Unassuming. Dangerous in the way familiar things always were.

We should talk. No pressure.

Keith told himself he was just tired. That nostalgia did weird things to the brain. That wanting something didn’t mean it was good to have it, especially something that once had teeth.

But under all the rational noise was the quieter truth: he didn’t want just a Dom. He wanted that one. 

So he texted back before he could overthink it.

Wine bar on Mercer. Tomorrow. 8.

Send. Regret followed immediately, like a reflex.

The bar was small, dim in that way that made people lower their voices and raise their confessions. Keith spotted Andres right away.

Red wine. Cheese plate. Of course.

Keith slid into the seat across from him, heart doing that annoying thing where it tried to rewrite history as something romantic instead of hazardous.

“Still drinking like you’re trying to seduce Europe,” Keith said.

Andres smiled. “Still judging me like you don’t want a sip.”

They talked about nothing for a few minutes. Work. The city. The weather, even. It felt almost insulting, how normal it was.

Then Andres set his glass down.

“So,” he said. “Have you thought about it?”

Keith exhaled. “Yeah.”

“Enough to say yes?”

“Enough to say I’m not saying no.”

That got a quiet laugh. Andres tilted his head, studying him. “You think we’d screw it up again.”

Keith shrugged. “I think I have a talent for finding the sharp edges in people.”

“And I’m one of them.”

“You were,” Keith said. Then, after a beat, “My last Dom wasn’t.”

Andres’ expression shifted. Something colder slid underneath. “Explain.”

“He didn’t listen,” Keith said. “Which sounds minor until it really, really isn’t.” He traced the stem of his glass. “Stuff happened outside scenes. Stuff I didn’t agree to. He treated consent like a suggestion.”

Andres’ jaw tightened. “That’s not dominance. That’s assault.”

Keith glanced up. “You’re angry.”

“I am,” Andres said. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

The hand Andres rested over Keith’s wasn’t theatrical. No claim, no squeeze. Just there. Solid. Present.

“So,” Andres said after a moment. “If we’re even considering this, we do it clean. What’s off-limits?”

Keith didn’t hesitate this time. “No breath play. Ever.”

“I remember.”

“And nothing unhygienic. No bodily fluids that require a warning label.”

Andres nodded. “Fair.”

“I also need safewords to be sacred,” Keith added. “No pushing. No ‘just one more.’ I say stop, the scene dies instantly.”

“It always should,” Andres said. “And it will.”

Then, casually, like he was commenting on the wine: “I want exclusivity.”

Keith blinked. “You don’t ease into things, do you?”

“No. I say the scary part early so it can’t rot quietly.”

Keith leaned back, letting the thought settle. Exclusivity used to feel like a trap with other Doms. Now it felt… contained. Safer, somehow.

“I think I want that,” he said finally.

Andres’ smile was brief, but real.

Keith swirled his wine. “One more thing.”

“Go on.”

“Are we sure this isn’t just two damaged people reenacting something because it almost worked once?”

Andres leaned back, considering him. “Almost worked is still worked,” he said. “We just didn’t know why.”

He leaned forward again, voice low. “We are vulnerable. That doesn’t go away. The question is whether we pretend we aren’t, or build something that can survive it.”

Keith swallowed. “You’re making it sound like a bad idea and a good one at the same time.”

“That’s because it is.”

Andres’ gaze sharpened. “Back then, we mistook intensity for understanding. We trusted without knowing what we were trusting with.”

Keith felt the words land somewhere deep and uncomfortable. “You’re saying this time we’d be… conscious.”

“Yes,” Andres said. “Which ruins the fantasy and saves the people.”

That did it. Something clicked.

Trust wasn’t blind. That was the lie. Trust was a weapon. Trust was everything. Chosen again and again, even when you knew exactly where someone could hurt you.

Andres had seen him unravel. Had seen the ugly compulsions, the self-sabotage dressed up as desire. And he hadn’t flinched—not then, not now.

Keith leaned forward and kissed him before he could talk himself out of it. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hungry. It was quiet and charged and terrifyingly calm.

When they pulled apart, Andres rested his forehead against Keith’s.

“This doesn’t fix us,” Andres said.

“No,” Keith agreed. “But it doesn’t break us either.”

They sat there like that for a moment, the cycle hovering nearby, not gone, just finally understood.

Chapter Text

Andres closed the door with a soft click. He didn’t just walk in; he occupied the space, his fitted gray waistcoat hugging his torso, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with lean muscle. The black frames of his glasses caught the light as his gaze landed on Keith, who was trying to look casual by the desk.

“Mr. Morkve.” Andres’s voice was a low, smooth purr that went straight to Keith’s cock. He took a slow step forward, hands slipping into his trouser pockets. “You look… guilty.”

Keith’s mouth went dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Andres was in front of him now, close enough that Keith could smell his cologne—spice and clean linen. “Your posture is terrible. Your eyes are darting. And your pulse,” he said, reaching out to press two fingers to the side of Keith’s throat, “is hammering. Thump-thump-thump. Like a little trapped bird.”

Keith swallowed. “Maybe I’m just… excited to see you.”

Andres’s lips curled. “Liar.” His fingers trailed down Keith’s chest, popping the first button of his shirt open. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

He worked the buttons with agonizing slowness. Each one gave way, exposing more of Keith’s skin to the cool air. Andres’s knuckles brushed his sternum, his abdomen. Keith’s breath came in short, sharp pants.

“Arms up,” Andres commanded, and Keith obeyed, lifting them so Andres could peel the shirt off his shoulders. The fabric whispered away. Andres tossed it aside, his eyes raking over Keith’s bare chest. “Hm. Nothing in the pockets.” His hands landed on Keith’s hips, patting down his trousers. “Nothing here either.” His fingers dipped into the front pockets, pressing hard against the fabric covering Keith’s hardening cock. Keith gasped.

“So sensitive already,” Andres murmured. He undid Keith’s belt buckle with a metallic shuck-shuck, then the button of his trousers. The zipper came down. He pushed the fabric down Keith’s thighs, leaving him in just his briefs, which were tented obscenely.

“Turn around,” Andres said. Keith turned, facing the heavy oak desk. Andres’s hands smoothed over his shoulder blades, then down his spine. “Ah. What’s this?”

His thumb rubbed over the inside of Keith’s bicep. Keith had forgotten—the notes. Tiny, frantic equations and phrases scrawled in black ink across his skin.

“You fucking cheat,” Andres breathed, his voice dripping with dark delight. He grabbed Keith’s arm, lifting it to inspect the writing. “You inked my entire exam onto your skin. You dirty, desperate little thing.”

“It was just a backup,” Keith whispered.

“A backup,” Andres repeated. He spun Keith back around to face him. “You need a different kind of lesson.” He dragged a sturdy wooden chair to the center of the room. “Sit.”

Keith sat. The wood was cool against his ass. Andres produced a coil of black silk rope from his desk drawer. He took Keith’s right wrist, wrapping the rope around it and the chair’s armrest in a complex, secure pattern. The silk was soft but unyielding as he pulled it tight. He did the same with Keith’s left wrist, binding him firmly in place. Keith tugged experimentally; the bonds held fast.

“Comfy?” Andres asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Andres pulled a sleek, metal pen from his breast pocket. He tapped it against his palm. “A lack of discipline is a fucking weakness, Keith. I’m going to educate that weakness right out of you.”

He stepped close. The cold tip of the pen touched Keith’s sternum. Keith jolted. Andres traced a slow, deliberate line down to his navel, the metal leaving a faint, cool trail on his overheated skin.

“Eyes on me,” Andres ordered. Keith forced his gaze up, locking onto Andres’s intense, focused eyes behind his glasses.

The pen moved to Keith’s left nipple. Andres pressed the tip down, just enough to make Keith gasp. Then he began to circle. Slow, tight, relentless circles right over the sensitive nub. The metal was a shocking cold that quickly turned into a focused, maddening heat. Around and around. Keith’s back arched off the chair.

“You like that?” Andres whispered. “My pen on your pretty little nipple?”

“Fuck… yes,” Keith choked out.

Andres switched to the other nipple, repeating the torturous, circling motion. He leaned in, his breath hot on Keith’s ear. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To get caught. To have me find your little cheat sheet and punish you for it.”

He straightened up, setting the pen aside. From his pocket, he produced two standard metal paper clips. They glinted in the light.

“Open wide,” Andres said, and before Keith could process it, Andres had pinched his left nipple, attaching the clip. A sharp, biting pinch made Keith cry out. The sensation was immediate—a stinging, persistent pressure that radiated through his whole chest. Andres attached the second clip to his right nipple.

“Ah! Fuck!” Keith hissed, his body straining against the ropes.

“Sometimes,” Andres said, running a thumb over the clips, making them jiggle and send fresh zings of sensation through Keith, “the smallest things hurt the most.” He gave one a sharp little tug.

Keith’s cock was leaking now, a wet spot spreading on the front of his briefs. Andres’s eyes dropped to it. “Look at that. So fucking eager.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Keith’s briefs and pulled them down, freeing his cock, which sprang up, hard and flushed. Pre-cum beaded at the slit.

Andres picked up the metal pen again. He pressed the flat, cool end right against Keith’s dripping slit. Keith whimpered. Andres rubbed it in a small, slow circle.

“You thought you could outsmart me?” Andres said, his voice turning cold and taunting. “You thought your scribbled notes would get you through?” He slapped Keith’s cock with the flat of his hand. Smack! The sound was sharp, the sting immediate and bright.

“Nngh!”

“Is that too much?” Andres sneered. He wrapped his hand around Keith’s shaft, squeezing just shy of painful. “My star student, reduced to a trembling, cheating mess.” He began to stroke, his grip firm, his thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke, smearing the pre-cum.

Keith’s hips bucked, fucking up into that tight fist. “Andres, please…”

“Please what?” Andres tightened his grip, slowing the strokes to a tormenting crawl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need… I need to cum,” Keith begged, his voice ragged.

“Not yet.” Andres released his cock. He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a slender, silvery metal rod. A urethral sound. It gleamed. Keith’s eyes went wide.

“Has anyone ever played with this little hole before?” Andres asked, tapping the tip of the sound against Keith’s piss slit.

“N-no…”

“A virgin.” Andres’s smile was wicked. “We’ll fix that.” He coated the sound with the pre-cum leaking from Keith’s cock, then pressed the cool, rounded tip against the tight opening. “Relax.”

Keith tried. Andres pushed. There was a strange, intense pressure, then a slow, burning stretch as the metal slid inside. Inch by inch, it penetrated him, filling a channel he never knew could be filled. It was cold, and full, and incredibly invasive. Keith moaned, a long, low sound of overwhelmed sensation.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed, his whole world narrowing to that deep, internal intrusion.

“Good boy,” Andres murmured. He began to move the sound, sliding it in and out with slow, precise strokes. The friction was unreal, a slick, internal rubbing that made Keith’s toes curl. Andres watched his face, adjusting the angle, going deeper.

Then, Andres pulled a small, bullet vibrator from his pocket. He turned it on. It emitted a low, insistent bzzzzzz. He pressed it against the end of the sound where it protruded from Keith’s cock.

The vibration traveled straight up the metal rod, deep into Keith’s core. It wasn’t just on his cock, it was inside him, a buzzing, rattling, unbelievable stimulation that made his legs shake. 

“OH GOD!” Keith screamed, his body bowing against the ropes. The clips on his nipples jiggled with his tremors. The vibration mixed with the deep, sliding fullness. It was too much. It was everything.

“You want to cum?” Andres growled, his own composure slipping, his breath coming faster. “You want to fucking blow your load?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, please!” Keith sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from his eyes.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Andres! Make me cum! I need it! I need to fucking cum, please!”

Andres increased the pressure of the vibrator. He fucked the sound in and out faster. His other hand grabbed Keith’s balls, squeezing and rolling them. “Cum for me, you cheating slut. Cum all over yourself.”

Andres slowly, carefully, withdrew the sound.

The orgasm tore through Keith like a lightning strike. It wasn’t a release; it was an explosion from the inside out. Thick, white ropes of cum shot out. He screamed, a raw, ragged sound, his vision whiting out as he shook uncontrollably in his bonds.

Andres kept the vibrator going, milking him through the last shuddering aftershocks. 

Andres looked down at him—a bound, sweaty, cum-covered mess. He smiled, a genuine, heated smile. He leaned down and licked a stripe through the cum on Keith’s stomach.

“Lovely,” he whispered, his lips against Keith’s skin.

Chapter Text

The water was warm. Not hot. Just right. Keith sank back into the tub and let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His shoulders loosened a notch. Then another.

The lights were low. A few candles on the counter. Andres’ doing. The room smelled faintly like eucalyptus and lavender. Clean. Calm. Keith closed his eyes and let the water do its job.

Andres knelt beside the tub, sleeves rolled up. No rush. He dipped a washcloth into the water, wrung it out, and started at Keith’s shoulders. Slow, steady passes. No pressure, just enough to remind Keith he wasn’t alone.

“Relax,” Andres said quietly. “I’ve got you.”

Keith didn’t argue. His body went loose under Andres’ hands, like it trusted him before his brain could catch up.

Andres slid a hand behind Keith’s head, careful as he eased shampoo into his hair. Fingers moving in small circles. Thorough. Intentional. Like he was focused on nothing else in the world.

“The bath salts have antibacterial stuff in them,” Andres said. “Sound can leave you sensitive, so I didn’t want to risk irritation.” He paused to rinse, cupping water in his hands and pouring it slowly over Keith’s head. “I’ll put more ointment on after. Just to be safe.”

Keith nodded. He appreciated that Andres had thought this through. All of it. It made it easier to let go.

Once the shampoo was gone, Andres switched cloths and worked over Keith’s chest and arms, washing away sweat and the remnants of earlier. There was no awkwardness in it. No edge. Just care. Keith felt exposed, sure—but not unsafe. Not even close.

Andres stopped and looked at him. “Anything hurt?”

Keith checked in with himself. Took a breath. “No. Just… relaxed.” He smiled a little. “Haven’t felt like this in a while.”

“Good.” Andres nodded, then moved his hands to Keith’s temples, easing out the last of the tension. “Then don’t think. Just be here.”

Time stretched. Or maybe it disappeared altogether.

Eventually, Andres grabbed a big towel and draped it over Keith’s shoulders, helping him out of the tub. He wrapped him up and pulled him close for a second, firm and warm.

“Thanks,” Keith murmured.

Andres shook his head, one hand resting at the back of Keith’s neck. “You don’t need to thank me.”

He sat Keith down on a chair and dried him off, careful and unhurried. When he turned on the hairdryer, he kept it low, using his fingers to guide the warm air through Keith’s hair. Then a comb. Slow strokes. Methodical. Keith nearly nodded off.

Lotion came next. Andres warmed it between his hands before working it into Keith’s shoulders and arms. When he reached the marks on his skin, he slowed, switching to ointment, cool and soothing.

Clothes followed—soft shirt, loose pants. Andres helped without making a thing of it.

In the kitchen, Andres made chamomile tea and set out cookies like it was the most natural thing in the world. They sat at the table, sipping quietly. The apartment felt still. Safe.

Keith caught Andres looking at him. Not staring, exactly. Just… lingering.

“You know you’re doing that thing,” Keith said, setting his mug down.

Andres blinked. “What thing?”

“Looking at me.” Keith smirked. “Be honest. Is it the tattoos, or are you checking me out?”

Andres flushed immediately. “Okay, fine. Maybe both.”

Keith laughed. “You’re really easy to fluster, you know that? It’s kind of adorable.”

Andres looked down at his cup, thumb tracing the rim. Then he said, softly, “You should stay tonight.”

Keith looked up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Andres met his eyes. No nerves now. Just sincerity. “I want to know you’re okay. Comfortable. Safe.”

Keith didn’t answer right away. The warmth in his chest surprised him.

“…Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll stay.”