Craving His Affection [bxm]

5

⚠Warning!⚠

Mature and non-consent scenes ahead! There is rape, so read at your own discretion. If you want to skip the rape scene, scroll down until you see the "~<<>>~" symbol. That means a break in my story. Normally I don't like writing about rape, but I saw it necessary to the story. If you do read the scene, I tried to write it with as little detail as possible for your comfort.

As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter! The ending scene is kinda fluffy to help bring reassurance to your hearts. UwU

Kenneth's POV

Peter was upset. He didn't come down for dinner that night, nor did he stay for breakfast the morning after. He said he had some errands to run, but I didn't think they were the normal errands everyday people had. No, he was up to something. I knew he was.

It was midday when the front door opened and Peter entered, stripping his winter garments. He looked troubled, blond hair a mess and eyes focused on nothing in particular. I crept towards him, careful not to be too loud.

"Peter? Are you okay?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Peter nodded, still not looking at me. His hands shook as he began to unbotton his shirt and he kicked off his shoes. When he was done, he straightened and ran a hand through his hair.

"Go to the bed," he demanded simply, facing away from me.

I furrowed my brows, confused. "Wha...what? Peter--"

"I said go!"

I flinched, taking a step back. Peter's hostility was evident, I just didn't understand why he was acting this way. My body trembled as I obeyed his order, making my way up the stairs with an upset Peter close behind me. When we got to my bedroom, he closed the door and locked it, prompting me to be concerned.

"Peter...what's going on?" I asked, watching with growing worry as he unbuckled his pants, the fabric balling at his ankles. He kicked them away and turned, pulling the front of his boxers down, his cock springing out. My breath hitched at the sight of it; red, bulging, and dripping with precum.

I took a step back as he took one forward. "Peter...w-what are you doing?"

"This will be easier on the both of us if you don't resist," he advised. "Please. Don't resist."

I shook my head, feeling tears burn my eyes. I didn't want this--not like this. It was true that I touched myself while thinking about him, but I wasn't ready. I didn't feel comfortable giving my body to a man, not even Peter.

"Please don't do this," I begged as Peter broke the distance between us.

Peter looked pained. His blue eyes hardened as he shoved me on to the bed, my head hitting the mattress with a hard thud. His hands pinned my arms above my head and he tied my wrists to the headboard. Next thing I know, Peter had stripped me of my skirt and panties, leaving my white lace socks on.

His finger prodded into my anus, his eyes widening when he realized I had loosened myself. I looked away guiltily, remembering my morning while he was away. I had touched myself there again, cumming when I pictured Peter embracing me. I wanted him, but not like this. Not while I wasn't ready.

"Kenneth."

His voice pulled me from my thoughts of dread and I whimpered, no doubt looking like an absolute mess. Peter leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. My lips parted and his tongue danced against mine, the feeling sending tingles throughout my body.

I cried at the intrusion, his cock filling me. I tried fighting against the bonds, but it was no use. The pain was too much and I felt my head grow dizzy. He thrusted in and out, stretching me beyond my boundaries. Tears soaked my cheeks and pillowcase and I begged for him to stop, but Peter never slowed down. No, he just sped up, thrusting harder and deeper.

My mind went blank.

My body ached.

My eyes burned with tears.

Realization hit me hard. I was being raped by none other than Peter, the man who had saved me from a life of hell. And here I was, living a new one.

~<<>>~

I didn't have the courage to look up as we ate our dinner. Peter and I didn't say a word to each other after what happened. We both prepared and ate dinner and silence, leaving me plenty of time to think and replay the events that had taken place.

Peter raped me. And once it was over, he apologized and bathed me and went on to act as if nothing had happened. I still didn't understand why he did what he did, though. He didn't seem like the kind of person to do something so cruel.

The silence between us was suffocating. I didn't expect him to say much, but a simple explanation seemed acceptable. Especially since he looked so overcome with guilt...

"Peter?" My voice was soft and quiet, a tone I only used with him.

Peter kept his eyes on his food, stabbing his peas with his fork. He looked depressed, but how could he be the one feeling depressed and not me? I sighed, feeling useless in this situation. I wanted to know why he did what he did, but that seemed impossible if he was refusing to talk to me.

"Let's talk, Peter," I tried again, reaching across the table to place my hand over his. Peter glanced up, eyes softening. He still looked upset, though.

"What's there to talk about?" he murmured.

"Well...what about what happened earlier?" I suggested, getting straight to the point.

Peter shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?" I pressed, feeling my patience run thin. We needed to talk, whether he liked it or not.

"Because what happened between us was wrong, and I can't believe I did that. I...I can't believe I did that to you." Peter ducked his head, keeping his eyes trained to his lap. He wasn't telling me the whole story. Not why he raped me, or why he was as guilty as he was. A rapist rarely felt remorse, and Peter was not a rapist. Not one at heart.

"Why did you do it?" Did he...like me?

"I...I can't say," he admitted, looking uncomfortable.

"You can't say, or you don't want to?" I coaxed, gripping his hand in mine. Peter stared at our entwined hands, furrowing his brows.

"I can't tell you why," he answered vaguely.

"Can you at least hold me?" I asked, watching as a small smile graced his lips. I missed that smile, I thought, staring at his handsome dimples.

"Of course." Peter scooted his chair out and patted his knee, smiling brightly.

I beamed, sitting on his lap and snuggling against his chest, my nose pressed against his neck as I rested my head against his shoulder. Peter rubbed my back, his hand warm against the fabric of the baby blue shirt I was wearing. I felt warm and loved, despite the ache in my butt.

"Peter?" I piped up, my voice quiet.

"Hm?"

"I forgive you, so stop being so depressed. Okay?"

Peter's hand stopped. "Are you sure you feel that way? You don't need to forgive me, Kenneth."

I shook my head. "No, I do. I want to. Accept it, okay?"

Peter's hand continued rubbing circles. "Okay," he agreed, sounding happy.

I smiled, nuzzling into his neck. Peter was a good man; I knew he was. A part of me knew that what happened was not him. I didn't know or understand why, but I did. Peter was not a bad man, and he most certainly was not my enemy. In a way, he felt more like family than anyone else I knew. I wasn't going to give up on him. Not now, not ever. He had my heart in his hands, my soul on a leash that he held. He may have not realized it, but I did in that moment. Peter was my everything.

~<<>>~<<>>~<<>>~<<>>~<<>>~

*sigh*

Kenneth's too forgiving, but boy's just listening to his instincts, so forgive him. :)