Love & Darkness

Chapter 1

Scribbling in his sketchbook, Jay sits slouched against the wall in the corner of the library, his headphones drowning out the usual quiet sounds of the almost empty library. He doesn’t notice Tom Smith approaching until their shadow falls across the page, blocking out the light.

“Oh… hey…it’s you…” Jay’s voice is soft and tentative.

“You’re Jay, right? You were in my drawing class last semester.”

Jay’s eyes flicker up, only to dart back down to his sketchbook as if it holds the answers

to his unease. He pulls one headphone off, letting it dangle against his collarbone, and his fingers tighten around the pencil like a lifeline.

“Y-yeah… I was,” he admits, his voice a mere whisper, thick with apprehension. “I… I remember your class. You… you gave me an A.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t an A minus?” Tom teases lightly, a hint of mischief in his tone.

A faint blush creeps up Jay’s neck, warmth spreading through him as he nervously taps the pencil against the paper. His gaze remains glued to the half-finished sketch of a willow tree, its branches drooping like heavy thoughts, while his shoulders tense at the playful jab.

“N-no… it was… an A,” he stammers, swallowing hard as his voice quivers just slightly. “I… I worked really hard on that final piece. The… the charcoal landscape.”

“So what are you drawing now?” Tom leans in, curiosity glinting in his eyes, breaking the fragile bubble of silence that envelops them.

Jay hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of his sketchbook as if it were a lifeline. Slowly, he turned the book to reveal a meticulously detailed pencil drawing of the library’s stained-glass window, the sunlight streaming through it casting delicate patterns across the page. His voice emerged soft and uncertain, like a whisper carried on a breeze. “Just practicing perspective. The window’s arches are tricky.” He bit his lip, glancing up for a fleeting moment before his gaze dropped again. “Do you think it’s okay?”

Tom Smith leaned in closer, studying the sketch with a thoughtful expression. “That’s really good.”

A small, hesitant smile flickered across Jay’s face at the praise, warmth blooming in his chest. He instinctively pulled the sketchbook against his chest, fingers tracing the edges of the pages as if seeking comfort. “Th-thank you,” he stammered, fidgeting with his pencil. His eyes darted toward the exit, then back to Tom. “I’ve been trying to get the light right all week.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, laden with frustration. “It’s harder than it looks.”

Tom’s gaze remained fixed on Jay’s face, an intensity in his eyes. “It always is. Nothing worthwhile is really easy, you know?.”

Jay felt his breath hitch under that scrutiny, a wave of vulnerability washing over him. He instinctively tugged at the collar of his oversized hoodie, shrinking back slightly against the wall. His blue eyes widened, flitting everywhere except Tom’s face. “I… I guess so.” He swallowed hard, fingers trembling as they gripped the sketchbook tighter. “It’s just… frustrating sometimes. When it doesn’t come out right.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he quickly lowered his gaze to his worn sneakers.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “And you can tell me to fuck off if you want. But how’d you get those bruises on your neck?”

Jay’s breath catches in his throat at the unexpected question, his hand flying up to cover the faint bruises marring his skin. Shock widens his eyes, and he glances around the library nervously before returning to Tom, his expression wide and fearful. “I… I…” He trailed off, shaking his head violently, his voice barely a whisper. “N-no, it’s… it’s nothing.” His fingers curled tighter around the sketchbook, knuckles turning white. “Please… please don’t…” He swallowed again, looking down, his cheeks flushing darkly.

Tom shifts closer, his voice low and steady. “I only ask because they look a lot like hand prints.”

Jay flinches when Tom moves closer, pressing himself harder against the wall. His breathing quickens, eyes darting to the exit again. He pulls his hood up with trembling hands, trying to hide his face.

“I… I fell.” His voice cracks, unconvincing even to himself. “Down the… the stairs.” He bites his lip hard enough to turn it white, fingers nervously picking at the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve. “Please… please don’t tell anyone.”

Tom studies Jay intently, his expression a blend of concern and disbelief. “That isn’t true, is it? It would be very hard to get bruises like that from falling,” he says, “but pretty easy to get them from being…” making a gesture with his hands to mimic choking.

Jay whimpers softly at the motion, tears pooling in his wide blue eyes. He curls inward, clutching his sketchbook tightly against his chest as if it could shield him from the accusation. His voice emerges as a trembling whisper. “P-please…” He shakes his head, a single tear escaping down his cheek. “I… I can’t…” He swallowed hard, fingers digging into his own arms, as if trying to anchor himself. “He… he didn’t mean it. It was… it was my fault. I… I messed up.”

“Jay,” Tom says, his tone softening, “I’m not sure there is anything in the world you could have done to deserve being choked like that.”

Jay sniffles quietly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor, shoulders quaking slightly with suppressed emotion. His voice is small and broken as he speaks again. “I… I forgot to… to clean the kitchen.” Another tear falls, as he nervously picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “And… and I talked back.” He lowers his voice to a near whisper, fear threading through his words. “Daddy gets… gets angry sometimes. But… but he’s usually really nice.” His grip on the sketchbook tightened, knuckles turning white. “He… he buys me art supplies.”

“When you say ‘daddy,’ you aren’t talking about your actual father, are you?” Tom asks, his brow furrowing.

Jay’s cheeks flush a deep red at the question, his breath hitching in his throat. He shook his head quickly, his eyes darting up to meet Tom’s for just a fleeting moment before looking away again. “N-no… he’s…” His voice drops to a barely audible whisper, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of his hoodie. “My… my boyfriend.” Another tear traced down his cheek as he continued, “He… he likes when I call him that.”

“Is he much older than you?” Tom pressed gently, concern etched across his features.

Jay nodded hesitantly, biting his lower lip until it turned white from the pressure. His fingers trembled as they traced the edge of his sketchbook, his voice barely above a whisper. “H-he’s… thirty-two.” He swallows hard, cheeks flushing darker. “I… I met him at the coffee shop where I work.” His breath hitched slightly, eyes flickering nervously around the empty library. “He… he said I was… was special.”

“Does he hurt you in other ways too?” Tom asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Jay’s breath catches in his throat, his face flushing crimson as he nervously twisted the strings of his hoodie. He stares at the floor, shoulders hunched protectively around himself. “I… I…” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Sometimes… when I’m… bad.” His fingers brushed over the bruises on his neck again, a subconscious gesture. “But… but he always says sorry afterwards.” The words fall from his lips in a whisper, heavy with conflict. “And… and he takes care of me.” A small, conflicted smile flickers across his lips, warmth battling against the shame. “He… he buys me nice things.” His voice trailed off, cheeks burning.

“What else does he do to you?” Tom asked, his tone gentle yet probing.

Jay squirms uncomfortably, his cheeks brightening further. He pulls his knees up to his chest, pressing the sketchbook tightly between them. “H-he…” His voice was barely audible, trembling as he spoke. “When… when I’m good… he… he touches me.” His breath hitches, eyes darting up briefly before falling back down. “In… in special ways.” He bit his lip, shifting slightly in his seat. “And… and sometimes his friends…” He shook his head violently, panic rising within him. “N-no, I shouldn’t…” A tear escapes, tracing a path down his cheek.

Tom studied him intently. “Let me see if I can fill in the rest. You were always a quiet and shy kid in school. Never really fit in anywhere. A little too feminine for the boys, not feminine enough for the girls.If you had any friends it couldn’t have been more than one or two people. Maybe you’re closeted at home, or when you came out to your parents, it didn’t go well. Coming to school here is your first time being on your own.”

Jay’s eyes widen in shock, his face flushing a deep crimson as Tom speaks.

“When you met him, he said you were special. He probably called you cute or maybe pretty. He bought you art supplies, clothes, stuff like that. Told you something like, you should be free to express yourself? The sexual things came later, starting off tender, but he gradually introduced you to more kinks. Maybe even made you think it was your idea. Now he shares you with his friends, and if you try to refuse, he probably says something like ‘if you love me, you’ll do it’.

Pausing briefly, Tom continues “Tell me, has he taken you to work a gloryhole yet?”

Jay trembles violently, tears streaming down his cheeks, breath coming in shallow gasps. “H-how… how do you…” He shook his head, voice breaking into a sob. “Please… please don’t tell anyone.” Curling into himself, shoulders shaking, he whispered, “Daddy… daddy says it’s our secret. That… that I’m special because I can take it.” His voice dropped to a terrified whisper. “And… and yes, the… the gloryhole… last week…” He covered his face with trembling hands. “I didn’t… didn’t want to, but… but he said I’d make him so proud…”

“And when he fucks you, it’s from behind and rough isn’t it? If you cry or beg him to stop, he just gets rougher. And when he finishes inside of you, he makes you clean him off with your mouth. Probably ending with a rough throat fuck. But he always apologizes and buys you something nice afterwards?”

Jay nodded Tomkily, tears dripping onto his sketchbook. His entire body trembled as he whispered through choked sobs. “Y-yes…” He wiped his face with a shaky hand, voice barely audible. “He… he says it’s how he shows his love. That… that real love hurts sometimes. And he says using my mouth after, feels so good for him.” His breath hitched, fingers nervously twisting the strings of his hoodie. “And… and the gifts after… they make it better.” He sniffled, looking down at his worn sneakers. “He bought me… new pencils last time. Really nice ones.”

Tom looks him straight in the eyes, “Jay, this is the MO of a sexual predator.”

Jay flinches at the words, shaking his head violently. “N-no… No… he loves me… He says he loves me.” He wiped his tears with a shaky hand, fingers nervously picking at his jeans. “He… he takes care of me.” His breath hitches, voice cracking. “Nobody else… nobody else ever wanted me before.” He looked up with pleading blue eyes, tears still streaming. “Please… please don’t make me lose him too.”

“Has he used you with other men yet? He would have called them his friends. And I bet they recorded the session. Just for themselves?”

Jay’s breath hitches, his face flushing crimson as he nervously twists the strings of his hoodie. He nods slowly, eyes darting around the empty library before whispering.

“Y-yes… three times now.” His voice trembles, fingers picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “They… they said it was just between us.” He swallows hard, cheeks burning. “But… but I saw phones…” His voice drops to a barely audible whisper. “Daddy said… said it’s normal. That… that everyone does it.” He sniffles, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “I… I didn’t like it… but he said I looked pretty.”

Jay’s cheeks flame a deep crimson at the words, his breath catching in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingers twisting anxiously around the strings of his hoodie. “I… I just…” he stammered, swallowing hard as his gaze fell to his lap. “I want to make people happy.” His fingers brushed over the bruises on his neck, a subconscious gesture. “And… and Daddy says I’m good at it.” A small, conflicted smile flickered across his lips, only to fade almost immediately. “Even… even when it hurts.”

Tom’s gaze sharpened, noting the way Jay keeps stealing glances at him. “I notice you keep looking at me,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Do you like what you see?”

Jay’s face burns hotter, as he quickly turns his eyes away, biting his lip until he feels a sting. His fingers trembled against the sketchbook, breath quickening as he squirmed in his seat. “I… I’m sorry…” he murmured, swallowing again, his gaze darting back to Tom’s lap before snapping back down to the floor. “I didn’t… didn’t mean to…” The heat in his cheeks deepened, a small whimper escaping his lips.

“You didn’t answer my question, little girl,” Tom prodded, his tone playful yet commanding.

At the sound of “little girl,” Jay let out a soft whimper, breath hitching in his throat. His cheeks flared a deeper shade of red as he nervously bit his lower lip, fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie tighter.