Gateway
Copyright© 2026 by Sandra Alek
Chapter 1
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Maya and Dan have hated each other since the day their parents decided to become one family. Between them stands only the thin wall of a shared bathroom. But one night under a bed, where they are forced to hide and listen to someone else’s passion, changes everything.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual InLaws Masturbation Safe Sex Slow AI Generated
Maya
Mom called it “our new home,” but to me, it felt like someone else’s fortress—and I wasn’t invited.
The last box was the heaviest. When I dropped it onto the carpet, a cloud of dust kicked up, bringing a scent that even a cross-breeze couldn’t wash out: a mix of men’s cologne with hints of sandalwood, leather, and something metallic.
This room used to be his gym. You could still feel his presence here. There were deep dents in the gray carpet from heavy weights, and the walls looked naked without the posters he’d clearly ripped down in a rage.
“Need help?”
The voice behind me was low and distinctly raspy.
I spun around.
Dan was standing in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame. He was wearing a plain gray T-shirt that stretched tight across his broad shoulders. He was eighteen, just like me, but in this house, he was the one in charge. His expression wasn’t openly hostile—just heavy with a long, slow kind of irritation.
“I can handle it,” I said, trying not to look at the way his forearms tensed as he crossed his arms.
“Sure.” He walked slowly across the room, and I unintentionally held my breath. He moved smoothly, like a predator on a familiar trail. “It’s just weird seeing ... this in here.”
He flicked the edge of my silk robe with his finger where it was sticking out of a bag. The thin fabric caught on his skin; the faint sound of the friction seemed way too loud in the silence.
“Your father said this is my bedroom now, Dan.”
“Bedroom,” he repeated, tasting the word. He stopped in front of a door in the corner. “So, I guess we’re sharing the ‘gateway’ now.”
He pushed open the bathroom door. I took a step after him, and we ended up in the cramped space, smelling of soap and something intimate. Two doors faced each other. Two entrances to our separate worlds.
“See these bolts?” Dan touched the cool metal latch on my door. His fingers were long and strong. “They’re old. If you pull too hard, they jam.”
He turned to face me. The small bathroom suddenly felt way too tight. I could feel the heat coming off his body and hear his steady breathing. His eyes flicked down to my neck and then back up to mine.
“Don’t forget to lock it if you don’t want me coming in. I don’t knock.”
Dan walked into his own room without looking back. The door shut with a quiet click, but I stood by the sink for a long time, staring at that metal latch. It felt like a very thin, very fragile barrier between us.
Fine. I’ll teach him how to knock.
Dinner was miserable. Neither Dan nor I were in the mood to talk. No matter how hard our parents tried to liven things up, it didn’t work. The only thing they managed to get out of Dan was a promise to look out for me at school.
My mom and Richard didn’t seem too upset about it, though. They got dressed up and headed out to a restaurant to celebrate the move.
I was left alone. I went into my new bedroom, flopped onto the bed, and dialed Jessie—my best friend who I’d barely be seeing anymore. She picked up right away, and I spent the whole evening venting to her until it was time for bed.
The excited sound of my parents’ voices told me they were back and heading to their room. It was time for me to get ready for sleep, too.
I walked into the bathroom, trying to breathe more quietly. The cool tile felt nice against my feet. The first thing I did was look at his door. It was closed, but the bolt—that massive steel finger—was pulled back. Total defenselessness. The feeling made my fingers shake.
I reached out and, with a short, dry clank, shoved the metal into the slot. Now he couldn’t get in. A hot shower helped me relax. Steam filled the room, wrapping everything in a damp mist. I pulled a thin silk nightgown over my damp body—the fabric instantly turned almost see-through, clinging to my skin.
I had only just made it to the bed when I heard muffled cursing from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. Dan had left his room and was out in the main hall.
A second later, my bedroom door from the hallway (not the bathroom one!) swung open without a knock.
Dan was standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but lounge pants, barefoot, his chest heaving. His pecs and his six-pack immediately grabbed my attention.
“You locked my door from the inside, Maya.” His voice was low, but there was a vibrating threat in it. “I wanted to wash up, but I found out some girl decided she could cut off my access to the water in my own house.”
“I ... I just forgot to unlock it when I was leaving,” I said, instinctively clutching a pillow to myself, realizing just how much my nightgown was showing in the lamplight.
Dan didn’t leave. He walked slowly into my room toward the bathroom door. He slid his bolt back, reclaiming his access, but then he turned to me.
“Since you love playing with locks so much...”
He stepped back into the bathroom and forcefully slid the bolt on my door from his side. Now I was cut off from the bathroom, and he was standing there, the one in total control.
“Tomorrow morning, when you really have to use the bathroom, remember that sound,” his voice came from behind the door, followed by one final metallic click.
I woke up to my alarm. Being late on my first day of school wasn’t a good idea. I was already an outsider among the students; if I turned the principal and teachers against me too, finishing the year would be a nightmare.
I rubbed my eyes, stretched a bit to shake off the sleep, and headed for the bathroom.
The door was locked.
I gave it a tug—useless. And I really had to go. I could hold it for a bit, sure, but not until I got to school. Go use my parents’ bathroom? No way. They might let me in, but it would completely ruin things with Dan. I didn’t want to start a war in a house where I’d have to live for at least the next six months.
I threw on a robe and went downstairs to the guest bathroom.
On my way back up, I ran into Dan on the stairs. He was already fully dressed. He gave me a crooked smirk and stepped aside to let me pass.
I stopped right in front of him.
“Sorry about last night.”
His eyes flicked over me, and he gave a short nod.
“Forget it.”
Everything changed at school. The half-dressed guy with the dangerous look from the bathroom was gone. In his place was Dan—the “king” of the hallways, surrounded by a constant bubble of both distance and worship.
I walked down the hall feeling like a ghost. Dan was standing at his locker, flanked by guys from the football team and a couple of giggly blondes. He was laughing at someone’s joke, twirling his car keys, looking completely relaxed.
When our eyes met for a split second, I instinctively slowed down, expecting ... what? A nod? A smart-ass comment? But Dan’s eyes just slid right over me like I wasn’t even there, and he kept right on talking.
A wave of heat rushed over me. This was the same guy who had locked me in my room last night, who had breathed in the scent of my lotion in the bathroom and made my heart throat-jump—and now he was acting like I was just some random passerby whose name he’d forget in a heartbeat.
I realized then: his provocative behavior at home was just for the two of us. There, he wasn’t the “king of the school”; he was a predator enjoying my reaction. But here, he had built a concrete wall.
“Hey, newbie, don’t space out in the middle of the hall!” Someone bumped my shoulder, and I nearly dropped my bag.
Dan didn’t even turn around at the noise. But I noticed his knuckles go white for a second as he gripped his keys. He saw everything. He was in total control. And the fact that he was publicly ignoring me felt more humiliating than anything he’d done with the door bolt yesterday.
At home, he was personal. Here, he was untouchable. And I didn’t know which version of him scared me more.
When Dan drove me home from school, the first thing I did was go up to my room and check the bathroom door. It was unlocked. So, we were even. I used the bathroom—making sure to unlock his side afterward—and sat down to do my homework.
The house went quiet. My parents had gone out for another evening, leaving the two of us in this huge, echoing box. I tried to focus on my textbook, but the silence in my bedroom was almost palpable—until the hitting started.
At first, it was a fast, snapping whistle, followed by a rhythmic thumping on the floor. Dan was jumping rope. The sound was muffled, but I could feel the vibration from his jumps through the floorboards. I felt it in my feet, even through the carpet.
One-two, one-two.
The rhythm was steady and exhausting. I knew he was doing it in his bedroom. I froze, staring at the bathroom door. Everything in this house felt foreign, but this vibration coming from him was the only thing that felt truly alive.
After ten minutes, it all went silent. I sat perfectly still, waiting for what would happen next.
Soon, a sliver of light flickered under the bathroom door. Dan had entered the “gateway.” I couldn’t hear his breathing through two walls, but I heard the water start running—he’d turned the faucet on full blast.
I got up and walked over to my door. Now that I was only a couple of feet away from the gateway, the sounds were clearer. The clink of a glass against the marble countertop, the splash of water. And the scent.
Through the vent or the gap under the door, a wave of heat from his worked-out body drifted into my room, smelling of something sharp and musky. It wasn’t cologne—it was the scent of physical exertion, and it filled the space around me instantly.
I pressed my fingers against the cool wood of my door. There, just behind that thin barrier, he was washing away his exhaustion. I could see his shadow blocking the light in the gap under the door. He was standing right there, maybe even staring at my bolt.
Right then, the water stopped. A silence followed where I clearly heard a short, sharp sound—he’d tossed something onto the shelf right next to my door.
I didn’t breathe. We both knew we were only one turn of a handle away from each other. But this time, I didn’t reach for the lock. I just stood there in the dark of my room, feeling this invisible connection stir something in me more than any argument ever could.
This time, I decided to make a gesture of goodwill. Or at least, an attempt at a ceasefire in this “war of the deadbolts” that was starting to give me a nervous twitch.
I walked into the bathroom once the house had fully shifted into night mode. The gateway was cool, smelling of Dan’s recent workout and damp stone. I stepped toward his door and froze, staring at the steel bolt. My fingers instinctively reached for the metal, ready to clank it shut and wall myself off, but I stopped myself.
If I locked him out now, everything would start all over again: the revenge, the locked doors, the cold fury in the school hallways.
I took a deep breath and pulled my hand away. I left his door unlocked.
I went to the sink and turned on the water. I applied some cleansing foam to my face, closed my eyes, and began slowly washing away the day’s stress. The sound of the water filled the cramped space, almost soothing me, until a sudden gust of cold air hit my legs, making me snap my head up.
The door from Dan’s side had opened.