WHEN IT BEGAN

Chapter 1

Leon was hunched over his desk, the blue glow of his computer reflecting on his sweet filled face. 

His room was filled with silence and the only sound slicing through the air was him clicking away at his keyboard. The words he typed didn’t register in his eyes. Instead, they took form, igniting Goosebumps on his skin.

Damian’s long throbbing cock thrust into the boys hole...

The words flashed on the screen. Sweat travelled from his forehead, down to his jaw. Leon could almost smell it. Not his sweat, but the scent of Damian. He imagined he would smell of a masculine musk, with a hint of salty exertion.

His right hand was stained with pre come as he slid it over his erect, pulsing cock, while imagining it was Damian’s palm smoothing over his throbbing skin. His body quivered a stifled moan rumbled through his throat, hands stroking faster.

The comment section right below the writing was in hysteria.

“Just imagining Damian’s cock sliding into my hole is making me go insane!”

“I am freaking hard right now.”

“Author have you slept with Damian before?”

Leon groaned, throwing his head back as his eyelids slid shut. He hadn’t slept with Damian, but that was the fantasy playing out in his head. A moan slipped from his lips as his hand moved faster.

He was the perfect child, the pride of the pastor...his father. To everyone he was the religious devoted son who quotes scriptures and bowed his head when elders praised him. But online, he was someone else .

Behind a pen name, he wrote smut and erotic content. But most of all, he wrote his desires.

The muse behind his writing was none other than Damian, a man he had a huge crush on. Damian in reality was a kind of gentle person. He smiled warmly, and helped freshmen find their classes. His kindness was what drew Leon in. The crush had started small. Leon’s heart would flutter at the sight of Damian.

But now it was a full on obsession.

The Damian in his writing was the complete opposite of how he was. He was a bastard that loved ploughing boy’s asses. That was everything Leon had secretly longer for. The darker he wrote, the more safe he felt. It was like he was expressing his true desires on the screen.

The image of Damian filling up his asshole with his thick cock burned at the back of his eyelids. His pulse hummed in his ear and the air around me grew thin. Pleasure washed over him, and he could feel himself reeling over the edge.

 A sudden knock on the door sliced the silence in the air.

“Leon? What are you doing in there?”

His name echoing from behind the door cracked through the air. The sound of the familiar voice was enough to send him in fight or fight mode. It was his father, the pastor who heavily preached against the slavery of falling to your own desires. 

Leon had been forced into a position of being his father’s trophy of purity. He wasn’t even allowed to breathe the same air as a girl. His father didn’t know that his son was not only gay, but a lustful degenerate author.

Panic flooded his mind in an instant. Without thinking, he slammed his finger down on the power button. The screen blinked once and went black, plunging the room into darkness. The only light came from the faint streetlight that slipped through the curtains.

No, no, no, no. 

The words rang through his mind like a silent prayer as he stuffed his still hard length into his underwear.

The door creaked open without a knock.

His father stood at the doorway, his shadow spilling across the carpet.

“I’m...I’m studying father,” Leon managed to say, his head bowed in an attempt to hide how flushed his cheeks were.

“Is that so?”

His father stepped into room, floorboard creaking as he walked over to Leon. He stood close to him, the heat of his body radiating in the small space between them. His hands rested on the top of the computer and that move sent a jolt of terror running through Leon.

Worst of all, the thin fabric of his pants wasn’t the best at hiding the bulge that was sitting at the top of it.

“What does your body crave my son?” 

The question hung in the air between them, making Leon’s throat tighten.

His father’s hand slid away from the computer and rested on the belt that was around his waist. Leon watched as the buckle skid away from the leather, horror filling his mind.

“Kneel,” his voice was like a slap to the face. “Since you cannot control your vile flesh, I will let the pain talk some sense into you.”

Leon obeyed before his mind could protest. It was reflex from years of enduring similar treatment. He slid from bus chair, knees falling to the floor. Leon clasped his hands together, throb bobbing as he swallowed.

His father took a step closer to him. “Your flesh cannot rule over you,” he said. “Today, I will teach you how to control it.”

Leon’s hands trembled but he kept them still. His pulse hummed in his eyes, hands growing clammy. He looked at the leg of his chair, memorising the scratches on it like concentrating on something else would dull the pain he was about to feel.

Leon heard the belt rise, the leather whipping through the air. His eyes snapped shut, muscles tensing as he braced himself for the belt to hit his skin. The belt came down with a loud snap, but pain never came.

He opened his eyes slowly and saw the belt coiled on the floor. His father had whipped the floor beside him, missing him. Leon blinked. His father was not one to be clumsy.

Before Leon could process what had happened, his father stepped back and turned toward the computer.

He knows. He’s onto me.

The thought struck Leon with the force of a physical blow. His heart hammered in his chest. His mind raced with thoughts of the worst-case scenario. If his father powered on the computer and revealed the deranged content he wrote, he would be absolutely ruined. Expelled from school, cast out of the church and probably worse.

The blood in his veins were ice cold now, and he watched his father study the computer for a long, horrifying second. His father placed the belt on the side of the table and his fingers hovered over the power button.

A gasp escaped Leon’s throat. “No, don’t-“