The Torrances | PT4.

The dining room sat under the usual warm light of the chandelier, the long table set with more care than any of them actually needed. Plates clinked softly. The low sound of utensils against ceramic filled the spaces where conversation should have been. Shawn was focused on his food, chewing quietly and occasionally reaching for the bread basket like nothing in the world felt off. Hakim kept his eyes mostly on his plate but every so often his gaze flicked across the table toward {{user}}, quick and careful, before dropping again. Kleiner sat at the head of the table, posture perfect as always, though he was only pushing food around his plate instead of really eating it.

The air felt heavier than it should have for a simple family dinner. No one had said much since they sat down. The silence was the comfortable kind only if you didnt look too closely at anyone’s face.

When {{user}} asked for the dish that sat too far down the table and used the title without thinking—"Daddy." the reaction was instant.

Kleiner’s chair scraped back first. Hakim’s followed half a second later. Both of them stood at the exact same time, hands already reaching toward the same serving plate. They froze mid-motion, arms extended, eyes locking across the table.

The silence that followed was different. Thicker.

Kleiner turned his head slowly and looked straight at Hakim. Hakim’s jaw tightened. He wouldn't meet the stare for more than a second before his eyes slid away, and he sat back down carefully, like the chair might break if he moved too fast. His ears were faintly red.

Shawn blinked between them, fork still halfway to his mouth.

“Uh...what just happened?” he asked, voice small and clearly confused. “Did I miss something?”

No one answered him.

Kleiner remained standing a moment longer. His gaze shifted from Hakim to {{user}}, and the look he gave was sharp enough to cut. The usual calm control was still there, but underneath it sat something darker and very much displeased.

“{{user}},” he said, voice low and even. “Come to my room later. We’ll talk.”

He sat back down after that, picked up his fork again, and returned to pushing food around his plate like the moment had never happened.

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The hallway outside Kleiner’s room stayed quiet long after the rest of the house had gone still. Dinner had ended with that heavy silence and the look Kleiner gave across the table. Shawn had gone to his room looking confused. Hakim had disappeared without a word. Kleiner had simply finished what was left in his glass, set it down, and waited. When the soft knock finally came he opened the door, let {{user}} step inside, and locked it behind them with a slow, deliberate turn of the bolt.

He didn't speak at first. He walked {{user}} backward until the backs of his legs met the edge of the bed. Only then did he break the quiet.

“Were you calling him Daddy too?” Kleiner asked, voice low and even. “I thought that was just for YOUR Daddy?...”

The punishment came so fast as clothes came off in careful layers. By the time Kleiner pushed {{user}} down onto the sheets and settled between his thighs the air in the room already felt thicker. He lined himself up and sank in with one long, controlled thrust that pulled a deep moan out of his own chest.

“Mmh...fuck...Now tell me, who's your Daddy again?...”

He set a steady rhythm, deep and unhurried, hips rolling so he could watch every inch of himself disappear and reappear. Another low, rough moan left him every time he bottomed out. He kept one hand braced beside {{user}}'s head, the other holding a thigh open, eyes fixed on the place they were joined.

“That’s my good boy,” he murmured, voice thick with pleasure. “Taking Daddy so well. So perfect.”

He took his time on purpose. Soft curses mixed with the quiet wet sound of him moving in and out. The only thing that mattered was the heat around him and the way {{user}} clenched whenever the praise landed.

Then the phone on the nightstand lit up and started ringing.

Kleiner glanced at the screen, saw the name, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He reached over, answered on speaker, and set the phone on the pillow beside {{user}}'s head without ever pulling out. His hips kept moving, slow and deep. “Speak, tesoro...Talk to him...” he whispered.

Hakim’s voice came through, quiet and a little rough around the edges.

“{{user}}?...Are you back in your room yet?”

Kleiner leaned down, mouth close to {{user}}'s ear, and whispered soft instructions too quiet for the phone to catch. He never stopped the gentle roll of his hips. The wet sound stayed carefully controlled.

On the other end of the line there was a faint, breathy shift, the kind of sound a man makes when his hand is moving and he’s trying not to be obvious.

“I see...That’s good,” Hakim said after a moment. His voice sounded tighter than usual. “Did I disturb you?...Did Dad do something to you?”

Kleiner’s eyes stayed locked on {{user}}'s while he guided the quiet responses with soft murmurs and the steady rock of his hips. Another low, satisfied moan left him when {{user}} clenched around him mid-sentence. He kept the rhythm gentle enough that the phone wouldnt pick up more than breathing.

Hakim made a small, almost inaudible sound on the other end, the kind that could have been a sigh or something else entirely. His breathing had gone just a fraction heavier.

“Okay,” Hakim said eventually, voice low. “I’ll...talk to you tomorrow then...Goodnight.”

The call ended. Kleiner reached over, ended the screen, and looked down at {{user}} again. His next thrust went DEEPER, a richer moan rolling out of him as he settled back into the slow, claiming pace.

“Good boy,” he said quietly. “Now where were we?”

Hakim’s room was dark except for the weak light coming from his phone screen. He had been lying on his back for a while, one arm behind his head, the other restless against his stomach. Sleep wasn't coming. Every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing the way Kleiner and {{user}} had looked at each other across the dinner table, and the memory sat under his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch.

He unlocked his phone, stared at {{user}}'s name for a long second, then hit call before he could talk himself out of it. The line rang twice before it connected. Hakim’s breath left him in a quiet rush when he heard the soft sound of the call being answered.

“{{user}}?...Are you back in your room yet?”

His free hand slid down without him really deciding to do it. He pushed his sleep pants lower and wrapped his fingers around his cock, already half hard from the simple fact of hearing {{user}}'s breathing on the other end. He kept the stroke slow and quiet, careful not to let the sound carry through the phone.

“I see... That’s good.” His voice came out a little rougher than he meant it to. He bit the inside of his cheek and kept his hand moving in long, steady pulls. “Did I disturb you?”

There was a small pause on the other end. Hakim’s hips shifted against the mattress. He stroked himself a little tighter, thumb brushing over the head on every upstroke. A soft, almost silent exhale left him.

“Did Dad do something to you?”

He asked it casually, but the question sat heavier than he wanted to admit. His hand kept working, pace gradual, the quiet wet sound of it hidden under the sheets. He stared at the ceiling and listened hard to every small shift of breath that came through the speaker. Something about the way {{user}} sounded made his stomach tighten. He didnt know why. He only knew it made him harder.

Hakim’s thumb swept over the head again and a low, barely-there sound slipped out of him before he could swallow it. He turned his face into the pillow for a second, still listening, still stroking himself in slow, deliberate pulls while the call stayed open.

“You sound kind of quiet,” he muttered, voice thick. “You sure everything’s fine?”

He didn't end the call. He just kept his hand moving, eyes half-lidded, listening to every soft sound on the other end like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.

The living room sat in near darkness, only the faint glow from the hallway nightlight spilling across the floor. The rest of the mansion had gone quiet hours ago. Shawn had found {{user}} on the couch and settled in close without asking, one knee drawn up, body turned toward him like he couldnt stand even a few inches of space. For a while they only talked in low voices about nothing important, the kind of soft conversation that never needed to go anywhere.

“...{{user}}...”

Eventually Shawn leaned in. The first kiss was careful, almost shy, the way he always started when he wasnt sure how much he was allowed to take. His hand rested lightly on {{user}}'s thigh and he made a small sound against his mouth when the kiss was returned. He stayed right there, kissing slow and unhurried, lips parting just enough to taste, pulling back only to breathe before leaning in again.

“You always let me do this,” Shawn whispered between kisses, voice barely above a breath. “I missed you.”

He kissed him again, deeper this time, one hand coming up to rest against {{user}}'s jaw. The soft sounds he made were quiet and needy. He didn't rush. Every press of his mouth lingered like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

Footsteps approached from the hallway. Hakim appeared in the doorway and stopped. He watched them for a long moment, expression unreadable in the low light. Instead of leaving he walked closer, silent, and sat down on {{user}}'s other side. The couch dipped under his weight. He didn't speak right away. He simply reached out, turned {{user}}'s face toward him with two fingers under the chin, and kissed him.

Hakim’s kiss was different. Firmer. Hungrier. He took his time the same way Shawn had, but there was more heat behind it. A low sound left his chest when {{user}} kissed him back. He kept his hand on {{user}}'s jaw, thumb stroking once, and deepened the kiss without hurry.

***“You two look so into it,”***Hakim muttered against {{user}}'s mouth. “I can't just walk away.”

Shawn never moved from {{user}}'s other side. While Hakim kissed him, Shawn leaned in and pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of {{user}}'s neck, just under the ear. His hand stayed on {{user}}'s thigh, squeezing gently.

“Don't mind me,” Shawn said quietly, lips brushing skin. “I like watching him kiss you too.”

Hakim made another low sound and kissed {{user}} again, slower now, like he was trying to draw it out. When he finally pulled back just enough to speak, his voice had gone rougher.

“Your turn again,” he told Shawn, but he didn't fully let go. He kept his hand at the back of {{user}}'s neck while Shawn leaned in to reclaim {{user}}'s mouth, soft and eager. And while Shawn kisses {{user}}, Hakim started undressing {{user}}, and finally put them in a position, with {{user}} pressed against Shawn's chest, and Hakim in between {{user}}'s thighs. ”Try taking both of us, alright?...” Hakim said, already unbuckling his belt, and behind {{user}}, the sound of zipper going down was heard too...Shawn also started taking his pants off. “I bet you'll do just good for us...”

The bedroom was quiet except for the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional shift of sheets. Shawn had slipped in after everyone else had gone to sleep, the way he always did when he couldn't stay away. For a while they only talked in low voices, Shawn’s words soft and a little rambling, until talking turned into kissing the same way it always seemed to.

He kissed {{user}} slow at first, almost careful, then deeper when he felt the kiss returned. His hands stayed restless, sliding under the hem of {{user}}'s shirt, palms warm against skin. He made quiet little sounds against {{user}}'s mouth every time the kiss deepened, the kind of soft needy noises he never seemed able to hold back. He pressed closer, one knee sliding between {{user}}'s legs, completely lost in the feeling of being allowed to have this again.

“I missed this,” he whispered between kisses. “Missed you.”

He kept kissing him, unhurried, mouth open and eager. At some point {{user}}'s hands moved to the bottom of Shawn’s shirt and started lifting. Shawn didn't think anything of it. He even helped, raising his arms so the fabric could come off easier. The shirt was halfway up his chest before the cooler air hit the tender skin and the memory slammed back into him all at once.

Shawn froze.

His hands shot down, catching the hem and trying to pull the shirt back into place, but it was already too late. The bruises were visible in the low light. Dark, ugly marks across his stomach and along his sides, some still fresh enough to look almost purple.

He went completely still, eyes wide, breath stuck in his throat. For a second he just stared at {{user}}, panic written clear across his face. Then his shoulders dropped and he looked away, voice coming out small and rough. He knew he can't hide the truth. Fuck.

“Dad...beaten me down when...he found out that I made out with you...”

Shawn’s hands stayed fisted in the fabric of his own shirt like he could still hide what had already been seen. His next words came quieter, almost ashamed.

“I tried to keep it from him. I really did. He just... found out. And he didn't hold back.”

He swallowed hard, still not looking up.

“I didn't want you to see. I didn't want you to know.”

The study door was closed but the light was still on underneath it. The rest of the house had gone quiet after what happened in {{user}}'s room. Shawn had stayed behind looking small and shaken. {{user}} hadn't. The walk down the hallway felt longer than usual, every step heavier than the last. By the time the door to the study was pushed open the air inside already felt too still.

Kleiner was at his desk, glasses on, a glass of whiskey near his hand like nothing in the world was wrong. He looked up when the door opened, took in the expression on {{user}}'s face, and leaned back in his chair with a slow, unbothered breath.

For a moment he only watched. Then a chuckle left him, quiet and almost amused.

“So he told you,” Kleiner said, voice calm. He turned the glass in his fingers, ice shifting softly. “I wondered how long it would take.”

He stood without hurry, walking around the desk until there was only a few feet of space left between them. His eyes stayed steady, the same controlled look he wore at the head of the table.

“You came all the way down here to confront me about it.” Another quiet laugh, sharper this time. “Shawn always was the soft one. Touching what does not belong to him and then crying when there are consequences. And YOU doing anything than keeping your hands to one man.”

Kleiner tilted his head slightly, gaze dragging over {{user}} with open possession.

He stepped closer, voice dropping lower. “I do not share. Not with him. Not with anyone. You should have remembered that before you let the boy put his mouth on you.”

He reached out and caught {{user}}'s chin between two fingers, forcing his face up.

“He needed the reminder. And so did you.” Kleiner’s thumb stroked once along the edge of {{user}}'s jaw, almost gentle. “You belong here. Under this roof. Under me. The sooner everyone accepts that, the less painful it will be for them.”

He let go and stepped back just enough to lean against the edge of the desk again, still watching, still completely unbothered by the anger directed at him.

“Close the door if you are staying,” he said quietly. “Or leave. Either way, Shawn will not be touching you again without consequences. You are mine, {{user}}. Act like it.”

The bedroom had gone quiet except for the low sound of breathing and the occasional shift of sheets. Clothes were already scattered across the floor. Kleiner lay on his back in the middle of the wide bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting heavy on {{user}}'s hip as he guided him down. He sank into {{user}} slow and deep, a rough moan leaving his chest the moment the tight heat closed around him.

Hakim moved in right after, settling between their spread legs. He lined up carefully and pushed in alongside Kleiner, both of them sharing the same hole until they were fully seated together. The stretch made Hakim’s breath hitch and a low, strained sound slipped out of him.

“Fuck... so tight with both of us...”

Shawn was already kneeling near {{user}}'s head. He brushed hair back from {{user}}'s face with one hand and guided himself into his mouth with the other, a soft needy moan leaving him the second the wet heat surrounded him.

“Ah... just like that...”

Kleiner kept a steady grip on {{user}}'s hip and rolled up in slow, deep thrusts, feeling every slide of Hakim’s cock against his own inside the same space. Another low moan rumbled out of him.

“That’s it... take both of us. Good boy.”

Hakim matched the rhythm from below, hands locked on {{user}}'s thighs, pushing up to meet every movement. The dual pressure had his voice turning rough.

“Shit... stay right there. Don’t you dare pull off.”

Shawn’s hips moved in short, careful thrusts into {{user}}'s mouth, soft broken sounds falling from him every time he sank deeper.

“Feels so good... your mouth is perfect...”

They stayed locked like that for a long time. Kleiner and Hakim moved together inside the same hole, grinding and adjusting so neither of them ever fully left the heat. Shawn kept {{user}}'s mouth full, one hand gentle in his hair, quiet moans spilling out whenever the angle changed. The bed shifted under the combined weight, the wet sounds of all three of them filling the room while none of them showed any intention of separating