Rókus
by Edward Kyle Stokes
Chapter 9
Love is Compelling, Choices are Complicated
While Rókus was out with Elias, Tomas had chosen to spend his Friday night partnered with Laren. They met at the club, danced under the strobing lights, and drank cocktails, the tension between them a familiar, intoxicating force. They soon left the noise behind, heading back to Laren's apartment.
Once inside, the mood shifted to one of dark anticipation. They each popped a pill Laren provided, and as the euphoria began to bloom, Laren fixed Tomas with an intense stare. "I have a gift and a surprise for you tonight, little one," he murmured.
As the drug took effect, washing away Tomas' inhibitions and any memory of his tenderness with Rókus, Laren led him to the imposing bed. He produced a large, thick, pink dildo, its sight alone sending a shiver through Tomas.
Laren wasted no time. With practiced ease, he secured Tomas. He used soft but sturdy leather cuffs to tie Tomas' wrists and ankles to the heavy bedposts, spreading his arms and legs wide. Tomas' legs were pulled back, leaving his arsehole exposed and vulnerable.
Laren stood back for a moment, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He enjoyed this immensely—having the beautiful twink completely immobilised, his innocence utterly at his mercy.
Laren began to tease Tomas with the dildo, brushing its slick, hard head against his eager opening. Tomas, deep in the drug haze, was utterly compliant, his body already humming with a frantic energy. Laren then pushed the massive toy into him, fucking him with the dildo in powerful, deliberate strokes.
He followed this with a sharp, stinging pleasure. He produced a leather strap and, punctuating his movements, whacked Tomas' arse repeatedly, leaving bright red marks against his smooth skin. Tomas whimpered, but the sound was one of exhilarated submission.
Finally, Laren tossed the dildo aside. He covered his own considerable size with lube and positioned himself over the trembling boy. He drove into Tomas, fucking him for real with all his brute force.
Tomas was so utterly out of it that he didn't just tolerate the punishment—he actively welcomed it. This entire scene was a whole new aspect of Laren—a controlled sadism—that Rókus knew nothing about, and Tomas, in his chemically altered state, was completely getting off on it. The pain and the power were a dizzying, addictive combination.
Tomas woke slowly, the morning light a harsh intrusion. His senses registered two things immediately: a pounding headache and a fierce ache in his arse, both inside and out. But before the pain fully registered, he felt the comforting warmth of the body beside him. Laren, the giant bear, was curled around him. Despite the brutality of the night, Tomas revelled in being cuddled by the sheer size and heat of the man.
Laren stirred soon after. All his alpha dominance was replaced by a gentle, fussing attention. He touched Tomas' bruised shoulder lightly, pulled him into a soft hug, and kissed his forehead. "Are you okay, little one?" he asked, his voice low with genuine concern. "I didn't go too far?"
Tomas looked at him, noticing the sincerity in Laren's eyes. He saw the concern was real, not feigned. "I'll survive," Tomas said, a grin touching his lips despite the pain. "But you didn't hold back, did you?"
Laren chuckled softly. "Guess not." He pulled Tomas close again, then reflexively gave his arse a pat.
"Ouch! Be careful, it's still sore," Tomas protested, though his grin widened.
Laren pulled his hand back, a look of surprise crossing his face. "Shit! You really did like it."
Tomas said nothing more, letting the silence serve as his affirmative answer.
Laren was determined to make it up to Tomas with attention and spoiling. He took Tomas out for a lavish Saturday lunch at a smart restaurant, where they sat in a quiet corner, talking and laughing easily, Laren occasionally reaching across the table to squeeze Tomas' hand.
The afternoon led to a luxurious indulgence: they boarded a river boat and enjoyed expertly mixed cocktails on the deck. The city floated by, beautiful and distant, the perfect backdrop for their intense bubble of intimacy. Laren was charming, attentive, and utterly devoted.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the water, Laren smiled. "Where to next?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Tomas, feeling adored and thoroughly spoiled, only needed to nod. Laren took him straight back to his place, eager to continue the intense connection they had forged.
Tomas phone lit up, buzzed, and vibrated. He twisted towards the sound, reached out and picked it up.
Rókus: Hey, I came by your place but you weren't there. Everything okay? Didn't see you at the club last night either.
Tomas: Oh, hey! Sorry, I totally forgot to text. Yeah, everything's fine. I'm actually with Laren right now.
Rókus: Laren? As in... Laren?
Tomas: Yup. We had a really intense night last night and I ended up staying over. We're having a really good time today.
Rókus: A good time? Tomas, I saw Elias last night. I told him everything. I was so confused when you left with Laren.
Tomas: I know. Look, I'll talk to you later, okay? I just needed this. I'll see you tomorrow at work.
Rókus: Okay. Talk soon.
Rókus walked along the riverbank, the sun warm on his face, but his mind was a whirlwind. He realised the last twenty-four hours had forced him to confront the messy reality of his new life. He had things to resolve, stark choices laid out before him like stones in the current.
The situation with Tomas felt like a confusing, painful contradiction. He saw their bond—the gentle laughter, the cozy domesticity of their Sundays—but the latest text seemed to confirm that Tomas and Laren were a unit, a couple of a specific, brutal kind. Tomas clearly liked things tough and hot, a dynamic Rókus had been unable and unwilling to replicate or embrace. The relationship with Tomas felt like a "try now, buy later" scenario, except he wasn't sure he even had the option to buy, and he certainly wasn't willing to share the goods.
Then there was Elias. Elias offered the clean, honest path: a committed, exclusive relationship. But Rókus would have to commit fully, and if it didn't work, there was no gentle ease back into the old life. He found Elias attractive, kind, and stable, but he lacked the dark, compelling pull that defined his recent adventures.
Maybe that's what love is, he thought, being compelling.
Tomas was compelling, but his willingness to share himself with Laren was the dealbreaker. Rókus had drawn his line in the sand with the simple word, "No," when faced with the two bears. He didn't want to share Tomas, nor did he want to submit to Laren and Solan again.
He was caught between the quiet stability that felt good for his soul and the intense, dark adventure that commanded his body. He had to decide whether he was ready to step away from the fire and choose a different kind of warmth. The meandering path of the riverbank offered no answers, only time to be lost in the turbulent flow of his own thoughts.
On Monday, the routine of their shared lunchtime felt profoundly strained. Rókus finally managed to draw Tomas away from the rest of the crew, finding a quiet, sun-drenched bench beneath an old oak tree.
"We need to talk," Rókus began, not meeting Tomas' eye as he unwrapped his sandwich.
Tomas sighed, immediately understanding. "It's about Friday, isn't it? And Laren."
"Yes. It is," Rókus confirmed, looking up now. "You texted me that you were with him. You spent the weekend with him." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I really like you, Tomas. But what is your relationship with Laren? And what is our relationship?"
Tomas leaned back, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Laren's... Laren. He's hot, you know? It's fun. He gives me things and he spoils me."
Rókus pressed him. "It's more than just being spoiled. You came home with bruises last week. You went back for more rough sex this weekend."
Tomas met his gaze, his eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and honesty. "Yeah. I did. I like it. He's brutal and he's forceful, and there's something about being totally overwhelmed that just... works for me. It's a rush."
Rókus nodded slowly. He understood the compulsion; he had felt the dark pull himself with Laren and Solan. But he'd also felt the terror. "I get the attraction, honestly. But I don't want any part of it. I told Laren 'no' on Friday. I won't go back there, and I don't want that here, with us."
He put his sandwich down, the appetite gone. He looked directly at the man he had grown to care for so deeply. "So, I have to ask you, Tomas. You have one foot in my world and one foot in his. Where does that leave us?"
Tomas looked down at his hands, fiddling with a loose thread on the bench. When he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of genuine regret and unavoidable truth.
"It leaves us where we are, Rókus," he said quietly, the finality in his voice crushing. "You're right. I do love being with you—the talking, the cuddling, the easy days. And I really, really like you. You're the kind of guy my mum would want me to bring home."
He paused, taking a breath. "But what Laren does... it's like a drug. It's the most intense thing I've ever felt. It's a part of why I left home—to finally go all the way, to be completely owned, completely dominated. I know it's messed up, and I know you don't want any part of it, and I respect that. You shouldn't."
He met Rókus's eyes, and the honesty was brutal. "I can't choose you over that. Not right now. I don't want to lie to you, and I can't promise to stop seeing Laren, or anyone else who offers that kind of... intensity. I need that adventure. And I can't ask you to wait around while I figure it out, because that wouldn't be fair to you."
He offered a weak, apologetic smile. "So, where does that leave us? It leaves us friends at work, Rókus. And nothing more."
That night, Rókus lay in his own bed, the familiar scent of his room a stark contrast to the cologne and sweat of the past few weekends. He closed his eyes, playing over the chaotic film reel of the last few weeks in his head. He saw it all: the blinding lights of the club, the overwhelming force of the bears, the unexpected tenderness with Tomas, the quiet honesty of Elias. He recalled the sex—the scary, intense submission and the sweet, simple comfort. He remembered the gentle promises of love, whispered mostly by himself, and the hard, disappointing truths spoken by Tomas that afternoon.
A single tear escaped his eye, tracking a warm, silent path into his pillow. He wasn't devastated; there was no hysterical heartbreak. Just a profound, quiet sadness.
He realised he had sought the world and found two starkly opposing ways to exist within it. He had tasted the dark adventure and found it compelling, but ultimately destructive. He had touched a genuine connection with Tomas, only to discover it was a package deal he couldn't accept.
Rókus just lay there, wondering if he would ever find the perfect person—someone who could offer both the spark of intensity and the stability of commitment, or if he would have to settle for only one. For now, he just felt the weight of the silence and the simple, ordinary sorrow of a boy who had looked for love and found only complicated choices.
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