RODERICK DE VERE SECRET OBSESSION |BL

CHAPTER 2

The silence in the grand mansion was deafening.  Elion, his heart heavy with a familiar ache, wandered through the opulent halls, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness.  The air hung heavy with the scent of lilies, a fragrance that had always reminded him of Jacob, but now it felt like a suffocating shroud.

He had been alone for hours, the sun sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold.  Jacob, his husband, was out, as he often was, "working late," "meeting with clients," "attending a business dinner."  But Elion knew the truth.  He had seen the evidence, the undeniable proof of Jacob's infidelity.

He had stumbled upon it online, a series of videos that had sent a chill down his spine.  Jacob, his face flushed with excitement, his eyes filled with a lust that Elion had never seen directed at him, was locked in passionate embraces with various women.  The videos were a stark contrast to the quiet, devoted man he had married, a man who had sworn eternal love and fidelity.

Elion had tried to convince himself that it was a mistake, that the videos were fake, that Jacob would never betray him.  But the truth was inescapable.  He had seen the evidence, the undeniable proof of Jacob's infidelity.

He had tried to confront Jacob, to talk to him, to understand what had gone wrong.  But Jacob had brushed him off, dismissing his concerns with a wave of his hand.  He had told him that he was imagining things, that he was being paranoid.

But Elion knew the truth.  He had seen the evidence, the undeniable proof of Jacob's infidelity.

He had tried to ignore it, to bury it deep inside, to pretend that everything was okay.  But the pain was too much, the betrayal too deep.  He couldn't escape the truth, the truth that Jacob had been unfaithful, the truth that his love had been a lie.

He wandered into the library, his gaze falling on a framed photograph on the desk.  It was a picture of him and Jacob, their faces alight with happiness, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of love.  He reached out, his fingers tracing the outlines of their faces, his heart aching with a longing that was both bittersweet and agonizing.

He had loved Jacob with a purity that was both rare and precious.  He had given him his heart, his soul, his entire being.  And Jacob had betrayed him, shattered his trust, ripped his heart to shreds.

He felt a wave of anger wash over him, a burning rage that threatened to consume him.  He wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy everything that stood between him and his pain.  But he was Elion, a man of grace and elegance, a man who had always been the embodiment of serenity.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.  He knew that he couldn't let his anger consume him.  He had to find a way to move on, to find a way to heal.

_____

The clock on the grand mantelpiece chimed once, twice, thrice, marking the stroke of one in the morning.  Elion, curled up on the plush velvet chaise lounge in the master bedroom, listened to the sounds of the mansion coming alive.  He had been awake for hours, the silence of the empty house a stark contrast to the usual symphony of Jacob's presence.  But tonight, the silence was broken by a different kind of noise, a cacophony of drunken laughter and muffled voices.

He had tried to ignore it, to convince himself it was nothing, just another late-night business meeting.  But the sounds were too loud, too distinct.  He could hear the clinking of glasses, the shuffling of feet, the muffled laughter of a woman, and a voice that was unmistakably Jacob's, slurring his words with a drunken bravado.

He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that Jacob was not at a business meeting.  He had seen the evidence, the undeniable proof of his husband's infidelity, in the form of those damning videos.  But tonight, the evidence was even more tangible, more visceral.  It was the sound of his husband's laughter, the sound of his husband's voice, the sound of his husband's betrayal.

He rose from the chaise lounge, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat.  He walked to the window, his gaze drawn to the grand entrance of the mansion.  He could see the figures through the frosted glass, their silhouettes illuminated by the dim light of the moon.

There were three of them, their bodies swaying in a drunken embrace.  One woman, her dress torn and hanging off her shoulders, her hair a tangled mess, was clinging to Jacob's arm, her laughter echoing through the night.  The other woman, clad only in a bikini, her body glistening with sweat, was holding onto Jacob's other arm, her eyes fixed on him with a lustful gaze.  Jacob, his shirt torn, his pants unbuckled, was laughing, his eyes glazed over, his face flushed with alcohol.

Elion watched, his body frozen, his heart shattering into a million pieces.  He had seen the videos, but they had been just that, videos.  They had been impersonal, distant, a cold, detached glimpse into Jacob's betrayal.  But this, this was real.  This was visceral.  This was his husband, the man he loved, the man he had trusted, betraying him in the most intimate, most humiliating way.

He felt a wave of anger wash over him, a burning rage that threatened to consume him.  He wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy everything that stood between him and his pain.  But he was Elion, a man of grace and elegance, a man who had always been the embodiment of serenity.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, to calm down, to control the rage that was threatening to engulf him.  He knew that he couldn't let his anger consume him.  He had to find a way to move on, to find a way to heal.

He turned away from the window, his back to the scene unfolding below, his body trembling with a mixture of pain and despair.  He walked back to the chaise lounge, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the empty bedroom.  He curled up on the plush velvet, his face buried in his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

Elion's breath hitched in his throat.  He wanted to scream, to run, to escape the suffocating reality of Jacob's betrayal.  But he remained frozen, his body paralyzed by a mixture of pain and disbelief.

The moans continued, each one a sharp, piercing blade that sliced through his heart.  He could imagine the scene unfolding downstairs, the way Jacob's hands would be roaming over the women's bodies, the way their lips would be locked in a passionate embrace.  He could imagine the way they would be laughing, the way they would be moaning, the way they would be lost in a world of pleasure that excluded him.

He could hear the clinking of glasses, the rhythmic thud of bodies moving against each other, the slurred words of a man he once loved.  He could hear the laughter, the moans, the whispers of intimacy, all weaving together into a tapestry of betrayal that was impossible to ignore.

His body trembled, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with unshed tears.  He wanted to be anywhere but here, in this cold, empty bedroom, listening to the sounds of his husband's infidelity.  He wanted to be back in the days when Jacob's touch was a source of comfort, when his laughter was music to his ears, when his love was a beacon of hope in a world of darkness.

But those days were gone, lost in the wreckage of Jacob's betrayal.  He was left with the empty echo of a love that had died, replaced by a hollow ache that gnawed at his heart.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sounds, but they were too vivid, too real.  He could imagine Jacob's face, flushed with excitement, his eyes glazed over with lust, his body moving with a passion he had never seen directed at him.

To be continue...