The Faithful Cheater

Elias stirred in the haze of his sleep, his body heavy and unresponsive, like it was pinned under an invisible force. The room around him felt familiar, then he realised this was his room—his vision blurred, trying to adjust to the lighting in the room. This must be a dream, he thought, a faint whisper in the back of his mind. It had to be.

A sudden weight pressed down on his chest, making his breath hitch. He tried to move, to sit up, but his limbs refused, as if bound by something. Panic flickered through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by a strange insistent heat blooming low in his belly. His eyes fluttered open, and there he was Vane, his stepfather, standing at the foot of the bed, utterly naked.

Elias’s heart slammed against his ribs, accelerating into a frantic rhythm that echoed in his ears. Vane’s presence filled the room. At thirty-nine, Vane Ashford was a masterpiece of masculine perfection—broad shoulders, honed from years of routines in the private gym downstairs. His chest was a sculpted expanse of muscles, with a light trail of dark hair that went downward, drawing Elias’s gaze in lower. Vane’s skin glowed faintly in the dim moonlight filtering through the curtains, a warm olive tone that outline the lines of his abs, each rib defined as if carved by an artist’s hand. His thighs were thick, corded with muscle, leading to calves that flexed subtly as he shifted his weight. And there, between them, hung his cock—thick, veined, and already half-hard, a sight of dominance that made Elias’s mouth go dry.

This isn’t real, Elias told himself, but his body betrayed him. Under the thin covers, his own dick throbbed, fully erect and aching with a need he couldn’t deny. The strange heat pushed the panic back, replacing it with a pulsing desire that made his skin flush. He cursed himself silently Fuck, not again—but his hand moved on its own accord, slipping beneath the sheets to wrap around his hardness. The first stroke sent a shiver through him, his breathing shifting from shallow pants to deeper, ragged inhales.

Vane stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the plush carpet. Elias’s breath caught as the distance closed, the air between them charged with an electric tension. Up close, Vane’s features were even more intoxicating: high cheekbones framing a face that could grace magazine covers, full lips curved in a knowing smirk, and those gray eyes—stormy and intense, locking onto Elias with a hunger that mirrored his own buried longings. Vane’s jaw was shadowed adding a rugged edge to his otherwise polished perfection. His dark hair, usually impeccably styled, was tousled now, falling slightly over his forehead in a way that made him look inviting yet thrilling.

“So you’ve been waiting for me,” Vane murmured, his voice a low, velvety rumble that vibrated through Elias’s core. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, laced with Lust. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he straddled Elias’s legs, his naked form hovering like a predator about to claim its prey.

Elias’s hand stilled on his cock, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and exhilaration. “Vane… Dad… I—” The words tumbled out, choked and breathless, but Vane silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips, the touch sending sparks across Elias’s skin.

“No talking,” Vane commanded softly, his eyes darkening with lust. He leaned down, his breath warm against Elias’s neck, and Elias arched instinctively, his body craving more. Vane’s hands roamed, calloused fingers tracing the lines of Elias’s chest through his thin sleep shirt, teasing the hem before yanking it up and over his head. Exposed now, Elias shivered, but not from cold; the heat between them was intoxicating.

Vane’s mouth followed his hands, lips brushing Elias’s collarbone, then lower, nipping at a nipple until Elias gasped, his hips bucking upward. “Please,” Elias whispered, his voice breaking. He hated how desperate he sounded, but shame dissolved into need.

Vane chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made Elias’s dick twitch. “Impatient, aren’t you?” He peeled back the covers, exposing Elias’s erection to the cool air. Vane’s gaze lingered, appreciative and hungry, before he wrapped his large hand around it—firmer than Elias’s own touch, stroking with deliberate slowness that built the tension to a fever pitch.

Elias moaned, his head falling back against the pillow. Vane’s other hand explored further, fingers dipping between Elias’s thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there. “You want this,” Vane said, his voice husky. “You’ve always wanted this.” He shifted, aligning their bodies, his own hard cock pressing against Elias’s thigh—hot, heavy, and raw.

The kiss came next—fierce and claiming. Vane’s lips crashed onto Elias’s, tongue invading with a possessiveness. Elias kissed back hungrily, his hands finally free to roam, clutching at Vane’s back, nails digging into the taut muscles. They ground against each other, friction building, sweat slicking their skin as the dream spiraled into raw intensity.

Vane broke the kiss, trailing bites down Elias’s neck, marking him with red welts. “Turn over,” Vane ordered, and Elias complied without hesitation, flipping onto his stomach, ass raised in silent invitation.

Vane’s hands spread him open, fingers probing gently at first, then more insistently, slick with something Elias’s dream conjured—lube, spit, it didn’t matter. One finger breached him, then two, stretching and preparing with a patience that bordered on torture. Elias pushed back, whining softly, his cock leaking onto the sheets. “More… Dad, please…”

Vane positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Elias’s entrance. “Say it,” he growled. “Say you need me.”

“I need you,” Elias gasped, and Vane thrust in—slow at first, inch by inch, filling him completely. The burn gave way to pleasure, waves of it crashing over Elias as Vane set a rhythm deep, strokes that hit every sensitive spot. Elias’s hands fisted the sheets, moans spilling from his lips unchecked.

Vane’s pace quickened, one hand gripping Elias’s hip for leverage, the other reaching around to stroke him in time with the thrusts. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, heavy breaths, and Elias’s broken pleas. Vane leaned over him, chest to back, whispering filthy praises,“So tight for me… My good boy… Taking it all…”

Elias’s world narrowed to the sensation, the fullness, the friction, the overwhelming connection. Pressure built in his core, coiling tighter until it snapped. He came with a cry, spilling over Vane’s hand, his body clenching around the intrusion.

Vane followed soon after, burying himself deep. Fuck,” he breathed out, the sound raw and animalistic, filling Elias with cum that made him feel weak. They collapsed together, Vane’s weight a comforting blanket, his arms wrapping around Elias possessively.

The alarm blared loudly, jolting him awake, Elias’s eyes snapped open for real this time—as his alarm clock blared from the nightstand. The dream shattered, leaving him tangled in sweat-damp sheets, his body still humming with aftershocks. His dick was hard and aching, sticky with evidence of his release.

He groaned, slamming a hand down to silence the alarm. “Fuck… another sex dream,” he muttered, voice hoarse with frustration and lingering desire. The room was empty, just the sound coming from downstairs maybe Vane was downstairs, probably in his study, oblivious to the torment he inspired. Elias buried his face in the pillow, cursing the ache that refused to fade. Little did he know, the lines between dream and reality were about to blur forever.