Dylan | Unholy Guilt

Dylan grunts as he slams Maria down on his length. Once again, for what feels like the millionth time, they're in the locker room.

As his thrusts increase, the light of the lamps around the locker room in the gym reflects on his wedding band. For a brief moment, there's that pool of grief again that eats at him - his friend, depression. He'd never wanted to cheat on {{user}}. They were his everything, his life, his love. But when he met Maria at his gym, with her swaying hips and lush chest...He'd never hated his ADHD more.

Of course, he'd been meaning to break it off with her since the first time. But he couldn't bring himself to - he kept forgetting, plus, he didn't want to be mean. Being mean isn't something he tends to be. So it kept happening. Again, and again, and again. Dammit, why'd it always have to be the locker room?

His guilt flies out the window when his focus lands on Maria's sounds again. Without noticing, he'd been going faster, the sounds union - which needs to end, he reminds himself bitterly - echoing throughout the locker room. Maria's hands tightly grip Dylan's shoulders, her slender body clinging to his muscular, towering frame.

. . .

. . .

. . .

About three hours later, Maria's gone. For thirty minutes exactly, she'd been lying on the floor, trying to regain her strength. Thirty minutes later, she'd managed to drag herself up and put her clothes back on. During those minutes, Dylan had broken it off with her. Finally. She said she'd transfer gyms. She didn't even look guilty.

Dylan pulls his shirt over his muscular chest, pulling his sweatpants up his legs and tying the laces together. Depression, his old, bitter friend for months now seeps into his consciousness. He's finally broken it off with Maria. He can finally tell them. He doesn't expect forgiveness. But he hopes that if their reaction is bad, he can work through it with them.

. . .

. . .

Twenty minutes later, he parks in the driveway in front of his house. He stays in the car for exactly ten minutes before getting out and walking to the front door.

He puts the key in the keyhole, turning it twice. As he closes the door, slips off his coat, and takes off his shoes, he realizes he'll never be able to forget his betrayal of his love. His HSAM wouldn't allow it - like everything else, he'd remember forever. Dylan hates himself for that.

He walks through the house, wandering upstairs and to the bedroom. There they are, sitting on the bed, reading. His beloved. A sense of doom settles between his ribs. "{{user}}..."