Archive of Our Own ^beta

Despite being a teenager, Michael kept a low profile both at school and at home. He never drew unnecessary attention to himself because he knew the violence that his father had hidden beneath that charming facade he put on for the public. He had only experienced it twice in his life and both times left scars that had healed but never faded.

Nobody knew that he scar on his cheek was from the ring his father wore. Michael hadn’t talked back to his father ever since he got backhanded that night all those years ago. The other was easier to hide but not so easy to explain away. The scar along his back aches every time his father raised his voice. It tingled when he got too clue for comfort. He remembered his mother telling him to be quiet as she stitched the jagged wound together.

She had told him to never speak of that incident to anyone, and to never get in her father’s way while he was drunk again. Michael made sure to heed her advice and soon learned that submitting to his father was easier than standing up and facing him head-on.

It had been years since his father had actually spoken to him. William only ever spoke to him if it was necessary, which was rare.

“How are your grades?”

They’re fine.

“Stay away from those hooligans you call friends. I don’t want to see a son of mine running around with such a distasteful group.”

Yes, father.

And the classic, “You’re an Afton, I expect you to uphold that name. Don’t do anything to embarrass or shame me.” The ‘or else’ was always implied.

A storm had been brewing all day. Ever since he had left for school that morning all the way until he had arrived back home at the end of the day. His mother merely nodded at him when he walked in, her back turned to him as she prepared dinner.

It wasn’t until he had shut his bedroom door and sat down to do some of his homework did the thunder begin. At first it was gentle and soothing, but soon the storm progressed into a heavy rain with loud, ear shattering claps of thunder. Michael could hardly focus on his homework with such a racket and decided to leave it where it was for now.

The time was only 5:37, leaving Michael just enough time to hop in the shower before he was called down for dinner at 6. The bathroom was only a few doors down from his own room so he didn’t bother bringing a change of clothes with him. His parents never went down this hallway, anyway. They had the top floor to themselves and the children had the bottom floor.

The shower eased some of the tension in his shoulders. The hot water was like a soothing balm and Michael couldn’t help but stand under it for a minute. He knew how much his mother hated when he took long showers but he knew she was too preoccupied with making dinner to notice.

His skin was red by the time he got out, hair still dripping with water. He barely toweled himself off and haphazardly threw it around his waist as he excited the bathroom. To his surprise and somewhat horror, his father stood in Evans doorway, fist clenching in his little brothers hair and a dark expression taken over his face.

The sound of the door opening caught his father’s attention, leading those piercing eyes to stare Michael down. He tried his best not to tremble in his father’s imposing presence.

Evan was crying for some reason or another and his father clearly grew tired of it. It was only by unfortunate circumstances that Michael had to be caught in the middle of it.

Grey eyes bore into his own before slowly taking in Michael’s appearance. A frown took over his father’s face and he knew immediately he had fucked up somehow. With his attention now turned to Michael, William dismissed Evan curtly.

His little brother gave him a sad, pitying look before he scurried away to the kitchen. Michael stood still in the bathroom doorway, skin turning to ice as the water cooled him down. A slight tremor began in his hands but he clenched them as hard as he could to stop it. Of course it didn’t help.

His father’s voice seemed to echo in the small hallway.

“Michael,” He waited for him to acknowledge him back.

“Yes, father?” Michael felt oddly self conscious as his father drew closer to him, letting his tall and imposing figure tower over his much smaller one.

“I thought I told you to behave.” It wasn’t a question, instead it was more like a statement. A fact. It had him confused and desperate to know what he had done wrong.

“I’ve been behaving, sir,” His voice was barely above a whisper. A strong hand caught his chin, lifting it up so that his eyes would meet his father’s. Michael hadn’t noticed that he had been bowing his head the entire time.

“Then,” His father drawled out, “What is this?” A gentle brush against the side of his neck had him shivering violently. His hand went to cover the area but was pulled away quickly.

“I don’t know what you mean…” He could do nothing but mutter. It infuriated his father further.

“Don’t lie to me, Michael.” The same hand that had gently brushed against him now had his hair in a vice, pulling so hard that Michael thought it would tear his hair out.

He was dragged back into the bathroom and spun around to face the cloudy mirror. The image was foggy but in it Michael could see both him and his father, pressed closely together with his father pinning him against the skin. He could see the pure rage that was plastered on William’s face. His father hadn’t taken on such a scary expression with him in a long time.

Michael could do nothing but groan as his father yanked his head back, leaving his throat vulnerable to his father’s free hand that came to tap at it. Each tap had Michael jerking in his father’s grasp, his body involuntarily trying to get away from the predator that had pinned it down.

“My, my,” came the hushed voice of his father, whispered directly into his ear, “It looks like my son is all grown up.” A wicked smile warped on William’s face. The dread in Michael’s stomach increased.

In the mirror, Michael could see what his father had seen. A hickey. A small, barely there hickey that Michael had forgotten about. He’s been wearing turtle necks for the past few days so that nobody would see, but he had completely forgot about it after taking his shower.

Careless.

“Did you wear a condom?” A blush rose in his cheeks, leaving him scarlet faced as his father scrutinized him in the mirror. “Oh? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Of course he didn’t! He wasn’t the one putting his dick in anyone. He was the one people put their dick in. He never needed a condom. He knew explaining that would only infuriate his father more, though, and decided to keep quiet.

“Or, maybe,” as if his father could read his mind, “You put it on them?” His father cackled when Michael’s eyes widened in fear.

His body had frozen itself in place, eyes looking like those of a deer caught in headlights. Michael wanted to quickly tell his father, “No, I’m not gay!” but knew it to be fruitless.

Judging by the sardonic expression on his father’s face, he already knew Michael’s secret.

“A faggot for a son. Why am I not surprised?” His father mused in his ear.

Michael shrank into himself, head bowed down as low as he could make it. He felt ashamed.

The hand in his hair disappeared and reappeared again at his naked waist. It skimmed over his sensitive skin. It was gentle and that scared him more than if it weren’t.

To his horror, Michael could feel his father pressing against his ass. He knew his father did it to get a reaction out of him, but the slimy feeling that slithered into his throat and down his down stomach had him paralyzed. No father should ever provoke their son the way that William did with Michael.

William cupped his palm against Michael’s throat, not quite pressing but not being gentle either. Trepidation wormed it’s way into his heart. Suddenly the atmosphere felt different.

It felt suffocating. The hairs on Michael’s arms stood up as he shivered.

He could feel the warmth of his father pressed against his back. The warm hand that held his waist gently and the one that him caught by the neck. Tepid breaths against his ear. Lips grazing his skin. And then, finally, the teeth biting into his shoulder.

It started off as a barely there pressure, not painful but rather intimidating. Then I got progressively harder. The pain grew. Michael clenched his jaw as to not make a noise. His father dug his teeth into his flesh until blood spilled from the wound, staining his skin a scarlet red. A metallic taste coated his tongue and Michael realized he had bitten his tongue in his attempts to remain quiet.

“Good boy,” William gave him a bloodied smile, “You take what you’re given. Just how I raised you.” It was all over in an instant. The hands were gone, the weight on his back vanished, his father’s face grew more distant in the mirror. Michael didn’t trust himself to move, though. The sink was the only thing keeping him still standing.

“Get dressed and come have dinner with your family. You have 5 minutes,” with that, William left.

Michael tried to gather himself but just couldn’t and instead let his legs give out from underneath him. He sunk to the bathroom floor, weak trembling hand cupping his wounded shoulder, the other stifling the sobs wanting to escape his mouth.

He sat there for a minute and listened to the sound of chairs being pulled and pushed in. The sound of plates being set down. His mother’s voice coming from the kitchen, calling him to come eat.

On shaky legs, he got up and stumbled out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He dressed himself almost robotically, hands moving without his mind telling them to. His brain was fried and couldn’t comprehend much.

The aching pain on his shoulder was enough to ground Michael, but not enough to snap him back into reality.

He let his feet walk to the kitchen on autopilot, not letting his head lift to look at his family sitting around the table. He didn’t want them to see his red rimmed eyes, nor did he want to see the evil man that he called father.

Dinner was a silent affair. Nobody spoke unless William explicitly told them to. Michael could see his mother sneaking glances at him, her eyes questioning but not daring to ask them aloud. She was just as afraid as the rest of them.

Nobody left the table until William had dismissed them. It felt like forever until the told them to go back to their rooms and leave him be for the night. Michael was quick to leave the table, chair scrapping on the floor as he hastily stood up.

All eyes turned to him. Three were questioning, one was taunting.

“M’sorry.” He muttered, blushing in embarrassment. He had never felt this skittish before. He turned tail to run to his room but was stopped by his father’s voice.

“Michael,” he paused, a wicked pause that he knew caused dread for his son, “Do clean yourself up. I will not turn a blind eye to your filth next time.” His father’s cold words stung at Michael, leaving him a fumbling mess.

“Yes, sir,” Michael walked quickly to his room. The door shut behind him and he finally felt safe.

One look in the mirror and he knew why his mother had been worried and why his father had said what he did.

There, on the very same shoulder that his father has dug his teeth into, was a blood soaked patch. He hadn’t registered that wearing a white shirt while bleeding would be a bad idea while he was rushing to get dressed. He looked unsightly.

Taking the shirt off hurt his shoulder, enough to the point of making him not want to put on another. So he didn’t. He dabbed at the wound with the already ruined shirt, trying in vain to clean up the bloody mess but gave up after a few minutes.

Homework forgotten, Michael went to collapse on his bed. His eyes felt heavy and his brain was exhausted. Sleep took over easily.

It felt like he had only been asleep for a few minutes when he woke back up. Much to his relief, the time on his alarm read that it was only midnight. The house was eerily quiet. Not a single sound was heard.

Groaning softly, he sat up in bed. His shoulder hurt still but it wasn’t as bad as before. The blood had dried and the wound was beginning to scab over. Michael hated that he could make out the teeth prints of his father had imbedded into his skin.

He felt as if it was some sort of branding. A mark. A sick type of claim. Of what, though, Michael didn’t know.

He was too preoccupied in his own thoughts to hear the footfalls coming towards his room. To hear the doorknob being turned. To see the shadow of his father standing in his doorway, watching him.

It wasn’t until his father spoke in that deep voice if his did Michael startle back into the present.

“I assume you sneak out at night to attend your… rendezvous’.” His father stepped completely into his room, shutting the door behind him. The click of the lock twisted Michael’s stomach into tiny knots.

“No…” Michael couldn’t speak. He wanted to defend himself but his voice had given out on him.

“No? Perhaps you let them come in through your window, then. Let yourself be fucked as your family sleeps in ignorant bliss of it all.” William only took a few steps towards him but was already standing above him.

His hand dug into Michael’s hair, wrenching his head backwards so that their eyes could meet.

“Please, father, I’m sorry.” He pleaded.

The tears in his eyes were pretty, William thought.

“Oh, love,” He cooed down at his sniffling son, hand gently petting back the hair that he was just fisting. “It doesn’t work that way, know it doesn’t.” All it took was a single shove and Michael was sent sprawling backwards onto his bed.

He stared up at his father in a daze. William smiled at him in an almost loving way. It was mocking, Michael knew. He knew his father could be a good actor but not good enough to fool him.

He shut his eyes tightly when the sound of his father’s belt being undone met his ears. He knew that he was going to be punished. He had hoped that it wouldn’t be with that belt again, though. The last time his father had beaten him with it, it had left that scar on his back.

“Turn over, Michael.” His father commanded. He followed that command instantly. He knew putting up a fight did nothing but make it more painful in the long run. “Good boy,” Came his whispered praise. Michael shivered.

A warm hand ran down the curve of his spine, long fingers tickling at his sides. He could do nothing but wait for the pain to begin.

It didn’t come. Instead, that hand was joined by another. Together they tugged his sweatpants down and off his hips. Eventually they were pulled off his body completely. Michael swore at himself in his head for not putting on underwear while he was getting dressed before dinner.

He lay naked on his bed, body left open and vulnerable for his father to see. He hated that.

“It seems you’re no longer a child.” His father mused above him. His hands still rubbed at his son’s naked skin. “I loathe children, Michael.”

Michael jerked when those hands got too low. They stopped just on the cusp of his ass, teetering on the edge of moral indecency.

“F-father…” He struggled to speak, his tongue felt heavy for some reason.

“Bite the blanket, Michael, and do try to be quiet.” William’s hands retreated.

Michael had only a moment to register those words and obey them before the stinging pain of the belt spread across his back. He wasn’t given much time to recuperate before his father swung down again.

Michael lay, gasping and spasming in pain on his bed, taking hit after hit on his back, ass, and thighs. The tears came silently. He knew his father hated crying.

The beating felt like it went on for hours. His skin felt raw when his father dropped the belt into the floor. The clatter of the metal of the buckle hitting the wood startled Michael, causing him to jump and wince in pain at the sudden movement.

“Beautiful…” The bed dipped behind him, the weight of his father now settling over his battered back. “You always looked the best after a beating, Michael. The pain suits you.”

His father’s hands gripped his hips harshly, pulling them up so that his ass was pushed into the air. Michael buried his head into his blanket, a low sob ripping from his chest because he knew what was going to happen next. He had thought those days were done and over with. Years had gone by and his father had stopped touching him like this.

Michael knew his father to be a brutal man. He had never been gentle with him in the past and expected no less this time around. He just didn’t expect for him to force his fingers down his throat and gag him.

“Wet them. This is the only mercy I’ll be showing you tonight.” Came the taunting whisper above him. His father was so close he could feel his hair grazing his back.

A warm tongue lapped at the blood seeping from his wounded back, tasting Michael’s pain and anguish as fingers speared the back of his throat over and over again. He couldn’t help the gags that escaped and the whines of pain when his father got too rough on a particularly tender part of his back. William didn’t mind, though, and instead found that those pathetic noises turned him on even more.

Michael was gasping for breath by the time his father withdrew his fingers. The split that clung to them dripped down as that very hand came to caress his ass, fingers dipping down to rub against his hole.

Without warning, those fingers plunged into his body. The stretch wasn’t bad but the shock of it had Michael gasping for air. His father chuckled sinisterly from behind. He loved seeing his son in a state of disarray.

William kept shoving his long fingers into Michael until he deemed it stretched enough. He wasn’t small by any means and didn’t feel like forcing his cock into such a small little thing that night. He wanted to see just how accepting his whore of a son’s body would be.

Michael heard pants being undone and felt a knee nudging his legs further apart. He arched his back as best as he could and gripped his pillow tightly. The nudge of his father’s cock at his entrance had him clenching his jaw as to not yell out.

The pain was enough to make his vision blur. He had forgotten how big his father was and how unprepared his body was to take on anything of that size. A wheeze was forced from his lungs as his father bottomed out inside of him.

The room went silent. Not even their breaths could be heard. Partly because the breath had been knocked out of Michael and partly because William was too busy relishing in the right heat that was his son’s ass.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed down at his quivering son, hands now grabbing onto Michael’s hips. “I had forgotten how amazing you feel. You’re better than any bitch I’ve ever fucked.”

Michael didn’t want to take that as a compliment and instead ignored his father altogether. He just wanted him to cum and be finished with this. The sooner it ended, the sooner he could try to forget about it.

William huffed in laughter. He hated being ignored. His hips snapped forwards in retaliation against Michael’s silence. A victorious grin split his face from ear to ear when his son let loose a high pitched moan. That’s all it took for William to lose his composure.

The slapping of skin and the wanton moans of Michael echoed in William’s ears. He knew that he should be a bit more quiet as to not wake up the entire house but currently couldn’t give less of a fuck if they woke up and listened to him fucking Michael’s brains out. Something inside of them actually thrilled at that prospect. It wanted them to know that Michael was his.

Michael’s vision went black when his father’s cock rammed into his prostate. The pure, blinding pleasure had him struggling to not cum. He felt ashamed of himself for feeling so good when he was getting railed by his father, but his body couldn’t help it’s reactions. His brain and body fought for control, with his body eventually winning.

Empty headed, he pushed back against his father’s hips each time they slammed into his ass. The jolt of euphoria had him drooling all over himself. He truly felt like a whore.

William watched as his son came undone below him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the beauty that was Michael Afton as he lost his composure by being fucked in the ass, by his father no less.

He couldn’t help but want to mark that beautiful boy as his own. So, without a second thought, he wrapped an arm around Michael’s neck and pulled him up, keeping that lithe body pressed tightly to his chest as he sucked bruises into his son’s neck and shoulders. He made sure to fuck into that tight heat harder as Michael lost his breath.

The arm wrapped around his neck had limited his air supply, leaving him a gasping, meaning, drooling mess. His face had turned red and then slowly to a purple the longer his father choked him. He didn’t care, though. The pleasure was too good for him to want to stop it.

Michael came silently, his mouth dropping open into a scream and body shaking violently through his orgasm. His went limp in his father’s hold when it ended. L

Seeing such an erotic sight pushed William over the edge, too, and he soon was pressing deep inside of Michael as a wave of relief washed over him. He let his arms give out from beneath him and laid atop Michael’s slack body, basking in the afterglow of his orgasm.

Only a minute had passed before he regained his composure and sat back up, watching as his cock slid out of his son’s ass wetly. William hoped that cum would leak out of Michael for the rest of the night.

He got up and redressed himself calmly. Satisfaction had eased the tension in his shoulders. He felt both lighter and more at ease. He could tell that his Michael felt the same.

He smirked at the sorry state of his son. The poor thing laid on his bed, eyes glazed with a far away look, body completely lax, with cum dribbling from his used hole. Drool was smeared across his face, too. William had forgotten how amazing it felt to fuck him. He would make sure that he didn’t forget again.

A gentle tap on Michael’s ass and William left the room, whistling a low tune that faded the further he went away. Michael fell asleep with that eerie time ringing in his ear.

He hoped that tomorrow, when he woke up, that things will have gone back to normal. He didn’t think that he could handle being fucked like this every night again, but he decided to let the Michael of tomorrow worry about that. The sweet lull of sleep took over him and soon Michael could do nothing but dream of big, wounding hands, sharp teeth, and a deep voice whispering in his ear.