Unspoken bonds, Chapter 2: Crossroads in the Night
Everyone is over 18 years of age
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Category: College, Authoritarian
Please feel free to contact me: nite_25@hotmail.com. If you are into the story you can become an early reader.
Ruben lay back in the worn seat, his body stretched and slightly slouched, as if trying to find some semblance of relief from the tension coursing through him. Outside, the night stretched on endlessly. The train rattled and swayed through the darkness, its clattering rhythm a constant reminder of the miles separating him from his college town and his father's house. In the empty carriage, every sound seemed amplified--the groan of the wheels, the hum of the fluorescent lights, the occasional metallic creak from the old seats. He was utterly alone.
With a sharp sigh, he yanked off his jacket, tossing it onto the seat beside him. The need to shed its weight was overwhelming. he needed it off, needed to feel free of its weight. His chest rose and fell rapidly as if the air around him were too thin. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them open almost desperately. By the time he reached the middle of his torso, just below his navel, he stopped, his chest partially exposed. The faint sheen on his skin glistened under the cold, flickering fluorescent light. His stomach muscles tightened with each breath as he struggled to steady himself.
His father had insisted on him coming home for the weekend, citing the importance of Sunday's football game at his old high school. His father, ever the disciplinarian, had always placed significance on tradition, success, and showing face in public. It wasn't about football--it was about appearances.
Ruben wasn't looking forward to it. Their house, grand and imposing with its many empty rooms, always felt suffocating. It was a place of expectations, not comfort. The echo of his father's stern words seemed to linger in every hallway, a constant reminder of who he was supposed to be. Discipline, his father had called it; invasions of privacy, Ruben thought. He did what was expected, always. Even now, on this late train ride, he was headed home because it was easier than explaining why he didn't want to go.
The train jerked slightly, breaking his thoughts. It was slowing down. He frowned, leaning forward to glance out into the night. "Why are we slowing?" he muttered to himself. At this rate, he would be arriving even later than expected. He sighed again and leaned back, his thoughts drifting back to Jasper.
That encounter. That... experience. What else could he call it? Jasper was unlike anyone he'd ever met. Vulnerable, unapologetically himself in a way that Ruben couldn't comprehend. Ruben had wanted to protect him, shield him from whatever made him feel so small, and yet Jasper had flipped that dynamic entirely. In one evening, Jasper had reached into places Ruben had buried deep, pulling out feelings that Ruben didn't even know he had.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the memory replayed. He'd never been that exposed before. Never allowed anyone to get so close.
But when they stood there and he had let his pants fall all the way down, Jasper had immediately reacted with a hungry growl, knelt on his knees and started giving Ruben head. He sucked and sucked the hard dick making it wet. His saliva was dripping form it.
Ruben had started moaning, this was so intense, an incredible bliss. He forgot everything in this wave of pleasure. The flood of emotions overloaded the circuits in his brain, triggering a short circuit that rendered him incapable of thought
He felt every muscle in his body, he felt the constraints of the buckle round his neck, the chain on his torso. The tightness of his shirt became too much for him and he quickly unbuttoned it and let it slide off him.
Jasper didn't stop, he wanted this dick deep in his throat. His energetic movements made his pants further slip down, his cock hard and throbbing in the sucking motion slapping against his hairless skin.
He started to lick the side of Ruben's dick, and then continued licking his balls. He wanted to taste everything Ruben had to offer. His salty musk was fogging his brain. He went deeper and deeper down the back of Ruben's balls, licking every inch. He ended up at the back of Rubens balls and in doing so he moved beneath Ruben's legs.
When his tongue touched the area between Ruben's balls and his pucker, Ruben let out a rather loud surprised yelp. Jasper flinched, his mind snapping back into focus. A wave of regret washed over him as he realized what he had done. He thought he had gone too far, overstepping some invisible boundary. "I'm so sorry," he stammered, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to apologize. "That was so stupid of me. I wasn't thinking--I don't know what I was doing. I'm such an idiot."
But before Jasper could spiral any further, Ruben cut him off with a reassuring tone. "No, no, it's not that," Ruben said quickly, shaking his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. Really. I just... I was startled, that's all. It caught me off guard."
Ruben's earnestness softened Jasper's tension. "Are you sure?" Jasper asked, his voice still tinged with uncertainty.
Ruben nodded firmly. "I promise. You've done nothing wrong and he reached between his legs for Jasper's cock. He started jerking him off and Jasper dazed back into his happy state and started licking Ruben's crack.
Ruben couldn't help it, he heard himself loud moaning which in turn motivated Jasper to explore Ruben's hole deeper and deeper. As he went deeper and deeper, he applied more and more pressure with his hands on Ruben's lower back. Ruben's knees bent further and further until he was eventually kneeling completely. He no longer could reach Jasper's dick but Jasper started milking Ruben's dick. His hard cock pointing down to the floor. Ruben couldn't help but thinking that it was just like milking a cow. With Jasper's tongue buried deep in his hole and the continuous bating, it was all to much for him. With a loud growl he shot rope after rope of cum, a big pool of cream covered the floor beneath him.
His heart was still racing wildly. He turned around and looked at Jasper, who was admiring his work with a grin on his face. Jasper licked his fingers, not wanting to let the delicious taste of cream go to waste.
"That was... amazing... I don't know what to say, I..."
Jasper: "Stop, it's fine. It's done, that's all."
Ruben: "Shouldn't I, uh, help you out?"
Jasper: "No, I got everything I wanted," Jasper said as he stood back up and straightened his clothes.
The way Jasper had looked at him--not with judgment, but with curiosity and something Ruben couldn't quite name--had made him feel seen. Truly seen. A tension tightened in his chest, not unpleasant but strange and consuming. Desire, yes, but something more profound as well.
His reflection in the window caught his eye--a faint, ghostly image blending with the blurred lights of the passing industrial site. Could he be that person? The one Jasper had brought out of him? The thought thrilled and terrified him. His whole life had been about meeting expectations, suppressing parts of himself to fit into his father's mold. And yet, with Jasper, it had felt so real. So... right.
The train slowed further, the jerky rhythm of its wheels dragging into a crawl. Ruben looked around the empty carriage. It was old, worn down, and lifeless. The cushions on the seats were faded and torn, the floor scuffed and dirty, and the flickering fluorescent lights added an eerie glow to the already surreal setting. The air felt thick, heavy, as if the train itself shared Ruben's unease about its direction.
The door at the end of the carriage screeched open, and the conductor entered, his presence a sudden intrusion into Ruben's unraveling solitude. His figure silhouetted against the dim light of the next compartment. His uniform hung loosely on his lanky frame, the buttons of his shirt straining slightly over his stomach. Sharp eyes scanned the carriage with the practiced detachment of someone used to late-night emptiness, until they landed on Ruben.
His gaze lingered, taking in Ruben's half-open shirt, flushed face, and disheveled hair. The faint sheen of sweat on Ruben's skin glinted under the harsh lights, a stark contrast to the lifeless setting. The conductor noticed his navel, the small detail drawing his gaze, he shifted his focus back to Ruben's face.
"Rough night?" he asked, his gravelly voice breaking the silence and jolting Ruben slightly from his spiraling thoughts.
Ruben blinked, startled. He adjusted himself slightly, brushing at the open part of his shirt but not bothering to fasten it. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice tight.
The conductor raised an eyebrow, nodding as he stepped closer. "Well, you're the only one left on board tonight," he remarked. "Used to be more trains, more people. Now? Everyone's stuck in their virtual bubbles. Who still takes the time to ride the train, huh?"Ruben managed a weak smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He handed over his ticket with a trembling hand.
The conductor scanned it and handed it back. "Not in a hurry, are you?"
Ruben hesitated. "No... not really."
The conductor smirked faintly. "Good. Word is, a truck lost its load at a crossing up ahead. Cement bags, they said. Heavy stuff. Cleanup's taking longer than expected. We'll probably stop for a bit before long."
Ruben nodded faintly as the conductor moved on, disappearing through the door to the next carriage. The train clattered on, its creaks and groans merging with the faint thumping of Ruben's heart. He leaned back in his seat, staring at his reflection in the darkened window again. Was he really heading back to the life he had tried so hard to fit into, or was there a way to change direction entirely?
Ruben rested his head against the cold glass of the train window, his mind drifting into the fog of memory. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels carried him deeper into the night, and his reflection in the glass seemed to dissolve. In its place, fragments of that night with Jasper replayed like an old film reel.
He saw Jasper's hesitant smile, the softening of his eyes as he adjusted the chain around Ruben's neck. The ghost of Jasper's touch lingered, sending a shiver down Ruben's spine. Jasper's fingers had trembled--uncertain yet determined--as they moved closer. And then there was the way they had parted, awkward and unsure.
They had stood near Jasper's studio doorway, their gazes flickering like fragile flames, unable to hold for long.
"Well... I should go," Ruben had said, his voice quiet and strained.
"Yeah," Jasper replied, his hand brushing nervously against his arm. "Okay. Thanks for... you know. For tonight."
Ruben had nodded quickly, muttered something even he couldn't remember, and walked out without looking back. The soft click of the door behind him felt like the closing of a chasm he didn't know how to cross.
The days that followed were strange. In class, they avoided each other. No exchanged glances, no text messages--just silence. It was as if that night had been a fragile dream, too delicate to acknowledge in the harsh light of day.
For Ruben, the silence was self-imposed. He didn't know how to process the emotions Jasper had stirred--raw, intense, and completely uncharted. The yearning and vulnerability were too much to face.
For Jasper, the silence felt like rejection. He feared he had pushed Ruben too far, crossing a line that could never be repaired. The guilt gnawed at him, convincing him that his desires had made him unworthy of connection. Ruben's distance seemed like proof that he regretted everything.
Back on the train, Ruben shifted in his seat. The scenes in his mind flickered with painful clarity. He couldn't escape the memory of Jasper's face--the openness and fragility in his eyes when their gazes met. An ache tightened in Ruben's chest, coiling with unspoken words and unacknowledged emotions.
He sighed heavily, fogging the glass as the train rattled on. The pull toward Jasper was growing, undeniable and consuming. It wasn't just about that moment--it was about how Jasper had made him feel seen, understood in a way no one else ever had. It terrified him, yet it exhilarated him.
His breathing quickened, his hands twitching at his sides as the tension built. The train rumbled through the darkness, but to Ruben, it felt as though everything had come to a halt. Only the echo of Jasper's name remained, and with it, the certainty that he couldn't keep running--from this or from himself.
Ruben slouched in his seat, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Beads of sweat traced faint lines down his temples, glistening in the dim glow of flickering lights. His pulse thundered in his ears, a relentless rhythm matching the clatter of the wheels. Every breath felt too shallow, as if his lungs couldn't hold enough air to ground him.
His trembling fingers clawed at his shirt, yanking open the remaining buttons with desperate frustration. The fabric fell away, revealing his bare chest, the sheen of sweat catching the dim light and accentuating the definition of his muscles. Each sharp breath tightened his abdomen, his trimmed hair under his navel exposed as he slumped forward.
His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with the button. He hesitated for a moment, his chest heaving, his mind racing. Was this madness? But he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. The pressure inside him--the yearning, the frustration, the unspoken desires--had been building for days, and it demanded release.
With a sharp breath, he unfastened his jeans and pushed them down over his hips, letting them bunch at his thighs. He sat back against the seat, his shirt hanging open, his body exposed to the cool, artificial air of the train. He closed his eyes, his head tipping back against the seat, and exhaled a ragged breath while he started masturbating. For the first time in days, he felt something like freedom--a fleeting sense of release from the suffocating expectations that had chained him his entire life.
The train rocked gently beneath him, the rhythmic motion matching the beat of him jerking off. He opened his eyes again, staring into the darkened window. His reflection stared back, half-dressed his hard cock firmly in his hand, disheveled, but unguarded in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be before. It was as though the glass was a portal, showing him the person he might become if he stopped running from himself.
In that moment, alone in the desolate train car, Ruben resolved to stop hiding--from himself, from Jasper, from the world. This was who he was. He ran a hand through his damp hair, his fingers pausing briefly over the back of his neck. His shirt fell away from his shoulders, and he didn't bother to adjust it.
The door at the end of the carriage screeched open, snapping Ruben out of his spiraling thoughts. The conductor stepped inside, heavy boots clunked against the worn floor with deliberate steps, his sharp eyes scanning the scene, their intensity feeling utterly intrusive.
The younger man sat slouched in the faded seat, his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his shoulders a sheen of sweat glistening on his flushed skin. His hard cock in his hand. His breath came in uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling with a frantic rhythm. The thin fabric of his pants clung to his thighs, outlining the tension in his muscles as he pressed his legs together, trying to suppress the unease building inside him. The fingers of his free hand fidgeted with the edge of his seat, his knuckles pale from the tightness of his grip.
The conductor halted a few feet away, his expression shifting from detached curiosity to something sharper--cynical, almost mocking. He crossed his arms over his chest, his uniform straining slightly against his lanky frame. "You alright, son?" he asked, though the tone of his voice suggested he didn't particularly care for the answer.
Ruben blinked, startled, and adjusted himself slightly in his seat. His hands brushed the open edges of his shirt, but he made no effort to button it. "I'm fine," he said quickly, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
The conductor raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Doesn't look like you're fine," he said. "Jumpy, sweating all over, can't keep your cock in your pants. Seen it before. You kids think the world revolves around whatever's rattling around in your heads." He took a step closer, his boots echoing against the floor. "Let me tell you something--nobody on this train gives a damn about your little show."
Ruben swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating painfully in his ears. The conductor crouched slightly, leaning closer, his sharp eyes narrowing.
"Here's the thing," the conductor continued, his voice low and pointed. "You're making a scene, and I don't have time for this. I've seen a dozen like you before. I know what you need." He reached out and clamped a hand around Ruben's head, the grip firm and felt like punishing. "Let me fix it for you."
Ruben stiffened under the weight of the conductor's touch, but he was too overwhelmed to resist. The older man pulled him forward while he opened his fly and flipped out his own cock. Pushing Ruben's mouth onto his cock with a force that felt so invasive. The movements were jarring, rhythmic, like he was trying to shake Ruben into some sort of compliance.
"Forward. suck. Back. Forward. suck. Back.," the conductor barked, his voice taking on a mechanical cadence. "See? Simple. Just follow the rhythm, boy."
Ruben felt his body being pushed and pulled as if he were a puppet, his limbs no longer his own. The physicality of it was suffocating, but worse was the way it stripped him of any agency, reducing him to something less than human. His chest heaved, his breath ragged and shallow as he fought to regain control, but the conductor's movements forced him into a pattern he couldn't escape.
After a final shove, the conductor pulled him forward, down on his knees, his head was hanging just above the seat opposite him. The scent of the seat, a mix of sweat and old fabric. His ass naked and exposed. The conducter spanked him while he said: Get it out of your own damn head."
He finally, stepped back with a self-satisfied grin. "There you go. Sorted. You just needed someone to put you right."
The older man straightened his uniform, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeves. He let out a raspy, grating laugh, the sound echoing through the empty carriage. "You'll thank me later," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "One less mess on my train."
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, his heavy boots clanging against the floor. The door groaned shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter lingered like a bitter aftertaste.
Ruben sat frozen in the aftermath, his mouth was filled with cum, his body trembling from the effort of holding himself together. His shirt now clung only to his wrists like a handcuff totally exposing his upper body. His pants down. Sweat trickled down his temples, pooling at the base of his neck. Every breath felt heavy, as though the air itself resisted his attempts to draw it in.
He slumped back into the seat, as he swallowed the remainder of cum, his head falling into his hands as the weight of the moment crushed him. The conductor's words rang hollow in his mind, their simplicity mocking the complexity of the turmoil within him. Fixed? he thought bitterly. Is this what fixed feels like?
His chest ached with the tension of unspoken emotions, the pressure building until it felt like it might split him apart. The emptiness inside him was vast, a hollow expanse. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Jasper.
Jasper. The name whispered through his mind like a faint breeze, stirring the embers of something that still burned deep within him. He could almost see Jasper's face, the soft curve of his lips, the quiet intensity in his eyes. In those fleeting moments they had shared, Jasper had seen him--as he was.
Jasper, Ruben thought, his hands trembling as they fell to his lap. I need you. I can't do this alone. The memory of Jasper's touch lingered like a phantom on his skin, a stark contrast to the harshness he had just endured. But even that memory felt distant now, overshadowed by the gnawing emptiness that consumed him.
And so he sat, a hollow shell of himself, yearning for something he couldn't yet define but knew he desperately needed, waiting for the night to end.