Ky had to be hearing things. Drain him dead? There was no way Magnificent Night would ever hurt him like that. “What?”

“It’s probably not a huge loss. I mean, you seem to be really fucking simple.” The stranger smiled cruelly, his blue eyes narrowed as he glanced up from the black link in his hand. “Did you dress in the dark? I pity the sorcerer who has a mess like you for an apprentice. He must be just as foolish or fucking desperate.”

Ky inhaled sharply. He grabbed the other’s wrist, forcing him to either let go of his link to Magnificent Night or continue the contact. His classmate withdrew as if burned and huffed loudly. “I don’t know what your problem is, kid, but I’m not an idiot, and I don’t like being called one by a total…”

“Mr. Scion, let’s talk about these fascinating pieces you brought in today.” Ky snapped his mouth shut at his teacher’s voice, his gaze fixed on his classmate’s condescending expression. “I’m so glad to meet you. Ever since I saw your portfolio, I’ve been excited to have a conversation about your use of color. Excuse us a moment, Liem.”

His new art teacher, Ms. Mahoney, swooped in and led Ky toward his paintings and away from the silent Liem. Ky felt flushed, angry and confused. He glared over his shoulder at the rude jerk, who smirked superiorly back. What an asshole. He barely said two fucking words to Liem, and the guy just outright insulted him. Who the fuck did that?

Ky tried his best to focus on Ms. Mahoney and her very helpful critique of his work, but he couldn’t get the stupid ass out of his mind. Liem’s words spun in his head again and again. He had to be wrong; Magnificent would never harm him. Never. But… Ky didn’t really understand the link. He didn’t even know how it came to be. He barely knew anything about the Relics besides what Lovely told him, and what he heard the catboy argue with Feral over.

Could Liem be right?

Ky peeked over to where Liem was standing next to the table with a still life set up. Liem was looking down intently, and his lips moved like he was talking to someone. Ky edged sideway and nodded mutely to his teacher while he tried to see exactly what Liem was doing. Ky bit his lip when he caught sight of a pair of ears similar to Feral’s but pure black with silver piercings.

Liem brought a demon to class, very likely the same one who modeled for his paintings. Shaggy black hair covered the Relic’s face, his body pale and long as he hunched forward on the floor with hands braced to keep from falling. Behind him was a curl of a wolf tail, and elegant black, leathery wings instead of feathers sprouted from his back. Ky couldn’t hear what Liem was saying, but the Relic looked sick, exhausted, and barely able to sit upright as he swayed on the floor.

Liem abruptly leaned down and yanked hard on the Relic’s ear. Ky flinched at the pained noise the wolf demon made and quickly looked around to see if anyone else heard. No one even looked Liem’s way. A group chatted obliviously, and Ms. Mahoney pointed out the parts of Ky’s technique she found impressive. Out of the entire class, it seemed only Liem and Ky were able to see and hear the demon.

By the time Ms. Mahoney finished her critique, her main hope being he would try some more structured, realism inspired pieces to broaden his abilities, Ky was ready to find something heavy to beat Liem with. Liem kept pulling on his ears while the demon whimpered in pain and struggled not to fall over. The Relic was clearly starving, the strong, toned muscles on his form doing nothing to hide the ribs peeking through. Ky’s glare grew when Liem glanced his way. The student smiled chillingly right before he deliberately grabbed the demon’s nipple and twisted. The wolf demon arched and howled in pain, the movement finally revealing his face.

The Relic’s eyes were ice blue fringed with heavy dark lashes and filled with a wildness that made Ky uneasy. His fangs were long and sharp like he was waiting for prey. He was handsome under his bruises, his body and face littered in purple and blue welts. Even here, in a classroom of students, he was naked with only a heavy black collar around his neck. It was just as outrageous as how Liem was mistreating him.

Class was almost over. Ky grew more and more unsettled with each whimper of pain the wolf demon released. He had a feeling Liem was doing it just to piss him off; he kept grinning Ky’s way to watch his reaction to every cruelty. Liem was a terror and he couldn’t wait for class to get out so he could tell him as much.

There was a flash of silver, and Ky turned his gaze from the broken demon on the ground to meet Liem’s wicked eyes again. Liem slowly unfolded a pocket knife; his expression made it clear exactly what he intended to do when he reached for the demon’s ear.

Motherfucking psycho creep…

It was the last straw. Ky snarled as he stomped across the room. He grabbed Liem by the wrist hard enough for the knife to fall out of his hand and clatter to the floor. He was seconds away from teaching the stupid little dick what it meant to treat Relics as less than human, no matter how many people in the class thought he was crazy.

A deadly growl filled the air. Ky swallowed hard when the wolf demon unfurled from his crouch and towered over him menacingly. Liem smirked and whispered smugly, “Let me go or my pet is going to kill you.”

“You’re totally fucked in the head,” Ky hissed under his breath. He glared at Liem but all his senses were on the growling demon. Feral could have clawed Ky to shreds, and this wolf demon was much larger than the coyote. Sure, Feral might have seemed crazed when they first met, but the wolf demon was nearly foaming. He was starved, abused and showing signs of animalistic behavior. Whatever Liem did to the Relic, it turned him more berserker animal than anything else.

Ky reluctantly let Liem’s wrist go. He kept his chin raised defiantly and teeth grit in anger. “You have no right to treat a Relic like this. He’s an intelligent person, not some toy you can cut up for sick kicks. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you should know he’s just as equal as you.”

Liem’s rich, blue eyes widened in surprise before he let out a loud laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re one of those types! What a total retard. You’re jeweled, which means if your demon gets hurt, you’ll get hurt too, and you’ve got a black link that will probably kill you before the week is out.” Liem grabbed the wolf demon by its black, bushy tail, and pulled hard. “Demons aren’t people. That you treat them like people is why they’re going to kill you. You need to show them who’s in charge or they’ll destroy you like the weak, pathetic imbecile you are.”

Ky stood taller, and his anger grew as Liem laughed in his face. He could hear the other students gathering their things. The class let out for the evening, and the teacher encouraged them to leave their portfolios and compare them later to their homework. It barely registered past the red throb in Ky’s head. He couldn’t remember ever being so angry before in his life. Even if the wolf demon was nothing more than an animal, the way Liem was treating him was beyond monstrous. Up close, Ky could see more bruises, a few burns, and long scars where a blade drew deep across the pale flesh. Liem was fucked up, and Ky was determined to find a way to get the wolf Relic away from him.

“You’re wrong,” Ky said once his throat wasn’t so tight with anger, and the sounds of the class leaving died down. “Lovely would never hurt me, and I would never put him in danger whether we were bonded or not. The same with Feral; after talking with him I know he’d never hurt me again. The demon black linked to me? He just needs my help. He’s not going to hurt me either. He’s trapped in chains I can’t open but I don’t mind feeding him so he’ll stay strong, alive. Your Relic is starving. All you’ve done is hurt him the entire time you’ve been here. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Liem huffed and folded his arms over his chest. He glanced disinterestedly at the wolf demon beside him. “What, like I’m supposed to feed him?”

“Yes!” Ky snapped. “You put a fucking collar on him so he can’t do anything for himself. You have to feed him, or he’s going to die!”

Liem looked unimpressed, his eyebrow raised in the face of Ky’s righteous anger. “So? Feeding a demon only makes him disobedient. I don’t want him strong enough to fight back. Eventually, Fido will learn to be meek around me. I might feed him more, then. Maybe. His magic is still strong either way, so what does it matter?”

Ky was starting to really understand how Liem saw the Relic and it was only making him more upset. “And if he’s dead? How’s your stupid magic, then? He’s not a fucking battery; he’s a person!” He turned to the demon and tried not to flinch under the manic, cold glare fixed on him. “You called him a pet. Even a fucking child knows enough to feed their pets. You have to be the shittiest sorcerer ever to fail at something so simple as taking care of the creature who gives you magic.”

Liem was as childish as Ky assumed, and his face twisted in rage from the insult. “I’m a skilled sorcerer. A powerful one!” Liem lifted his chin and pointed to the link on his collar. “I have a red link, unlike you. Fido thought he was a warrior when he got here and now he’s completely dominated by me. What, you think you’re stronger? You don’t even have a wand on you. You didn’t bring any demons to defend you. You’re completely weak and helpless with nothing but a lame, white jewel on your collar that shows just how stupid you really are!”

Ky took a step back when Liem raised his hand, and a wand fell into his fingers from out of his sleeve. How did Liem know he didn’t have Anselm’s wand on him? Ky didn’t know what exactly the wand could do to him, but given Liem’s horrible nature, it probably wouldn’t be good. “You can call me whatever you want, but it doesn’t make what you’re doing right. You don’t deserve to be bonded to a Relic if that’s the way you treat him.”

Liem narrowed his eyes, and a grim smile split his face. “Only weak, pathetic sorcerers would ever bind to a demon the way you did your jeweled one. I know what happens to weak things, they get devoured by the strong. You think Fido is so fucking sweet and should be fed? I’ll show you firsthand what it’s like to die from a demon’s fangs.”

Ky inhaled sharply and turned as the door across the room slammed shut. “Demons don’t kill,” he whispered. Liem lowered his wand as he turned back slowly. Ky flinched when he met Fido’s very crazed, ice-blue eyes. “They feed off of energy. They don’t need to kill to…”

“You keep telling yourself that, dumbass,” Liem said with a snicker. “Fido’s hungry and he’s as mean as they come. I watched him tear apart a cat a month ago. He doesn’t care what you are just as long as he gets some food.”

Dread twisted in Ky’s stomach. He stumbled back when the tall demon lurched forward with a bloodcurdling growl. Fido might have been weak and abused, but he also looked mean as fuck and really, really hungry. Ky knew the demons at his home ate rats. He damn well knew Demencious, the horrible overseer, ate other Relics, human beings, and animals to stay alive. Ky didn’t want to believe it was possible, but he couldn’t dismiss the reality this wolf demon looked like he would be more than happy to kill him if he could finally eat.

Persistent whispers slowly pulled Ky from sleep. Everything was fuzzy. For a long moment, he was certain his mother was talking to him. Except the voices were male, strange, and spoke in a language he didn’t recognize. Somehow, though, he understood. His mind bent around each foreign word and supplied the translation as if he knew it his whole life.

“You need to feed.”

“I’m fine. Just stop rolling me,” Lovely softly groaned. His arm fell over Ky’s chest when he was deposited heavily on the bed.

“Feed, you stubborn thing. I don’t have enough to restore you.” The bed shifted, and Feral bent over Ky to peer into his sleepy face. “Alright there, whelp?”

Ky focused blearily on the coyote demon’s scarred face and intense, golden eyes. Ky’s gaze drifted and he reached his hand toward his bleeding shoulder. Feral’s bronzed flesh was covered in wounds, some so raw and painfully deep, Ky could barely stand to look at them. “Feral, you’re hurt.”

Feral huffed when Ky’s silver eyes filled with tears after taking in his bloodied form. “Don’t start bawling, stupid. Help the feline. He can’t heal without energy, and I don’t have enough.”

“I’m fine,” Lovely mumbled again. Ky’s gaze drifted to his side where the pale cat demon was stretched out beside him, blood dry and caked on his beautiful face.

“Frrrling whelp,” Feral mutter in exasperation when Ky’s tears spilled free. Ky whimpered low in his throat and turned and fretted softly over Lovely’s exhausted body.

He was too tired to grumble much. Feral sank onto the mattress and closed his eyes. They had spent the last day and a half in the wardrobe to avoid Ky’s parents who were constantly running in and out of the room. Livia had sat with her son the entire night before, refusing to leave his side. It was only now the two parents finally left the house together and drove off in one of their vehicles. It was enough for Feral to feel safe to come out and lock the bedroom door.

“Shhh. I swear I’m okay,” Lovely whispered hoarsely. His mismatched eyes of blue and violet peered out from between long strands of white hair. “Go back to sleep. Redeless is overreacting.”

“Chrrrl,” Feral snapped grumpily and burrowed deeper into the bedspread. “You nearly drained me unconscious. Let the kid feed you before you bleed out.”

Ky gently pushed Lovely’s long, white hair from his face and revealed slashes and bruises all over his luminescent flesh. It was strange to see Lovely in the thick black collar with its one crystal stud when everything else was bright and white about the catboy. “What do you need, Lovely? If I can help, I’ll do anything. Just tell me.”

“Sweet boy.” Lovely exhaled heavily. He snagged Ky by the chin and tugged him down until their noses brushed. “I just… just need a taste.” He licked his tongue out and traced over Ky’s lips until he opened with a sigh.

Ky was starting to understand when Lovely kissed him like this, tongue lapped inside his mouth in slow, hungry strokes, it was to get his energy and restore his own. It didn’t mean it stopped feeling amazing, and Ky whimpered and melted into the kiss. Lovely pulled him down and licked away his stray tears before he plunged his tongue back into his mouth.

“Sweet, sweet boy,” Lovely murmured against his lips. He nipped Ky’s red lips swollen and drew spots of blood his tongue quickly stole and healed. “Taste so sweet. So generous, my beautiful master.”

Ky blushed and fought back a moan. Lovely grew stronger with each kiss, his lips persistent and hungry as he pressed him down into the mattress. Ky felt more than a little perverted; Lovely kept saying things about how nice he was when he felt hot, hard and dizzy. “Lovely. Oh, okay,” he mumbled as Lovely pinned him to the bed and licked down his throat. His shirt was pulled off in a quick move he couldn’t follow.

“You’re wonderful.” Lovely nipped into his flat stomach, and Ky gasped and flexed beneath him. “You saved us with your very first spell. You kept us alive when we were starving for so long.” He pulled back and met Ky’s heavy-lidded gaze. “You’re the only one who’s ever shared, sweet boy. You didn’t take, didn’t ask for anything back. You’re so brave. So good.”

Ky couldn’t stop flushing, and he bit his lower lip anxiously. “Lovely, is that all it is? Sharing energy? I like when you kiss me. A lot.”

Lovely smirked and leaned down to lap over Ky’s pout. “I like tasting you, sweetling. I like touching you, making you moan, and beg, and cum.”

Ky sighed and pressed up to kiss him back. “I like that too. I like everything you do to me.” He gave another sigh when firm lips descended on his. He fell back against the mattress as Lovely languidly devoured his mouth.

“I need to heal Redeless.” Lovely broke away and knelt on the bed. “He doesn’t have the same restorative abilities I do.”

Lovely’s skin was already free of his previously blue bruising. The slashes and red scratches were just dried blood now, and his pale flesh whole and intact. Even his head wound was healed. All he needed was a shower to clean the grime of the battle away.

Ky watched as Lovely crawled over to the bronze coyote demon. Feral muttered something under his breath when a tongue moved over the wound on his shoulder. He looked exhausted, his eyes closed and face pinched in pain. Ky still didn’t know Feral much and he really didn’t know where they stood. Feral helped him save Lovely; he helped them all survive the terrible Demencious and kept them from falling into the pit. Ky liked him even if he was mean and surly most of the time.

Decided, Ky shifted down the bed and ducked his head until he was nose to nose with Feral on the mattress. “Did you…? Can I give you some energy, Feral?” Ky felt nervous when Feral opened his eyes. No matter all they went through, Feral’s golden gaze was still as intense and piercing as ever.

Feral didn’t answer right away, and Ky wondered if he was more hurt than first thought. “Are you okay?” He carefully touched one of his ears and watched as the furry triangle pierced with gold twitched under his fingertips.

“That tickles, whelp,” Feral finally muttered and closed his eyes.

“I want to help you,” Ky whispered. He pressed closer until his mouth was right next to Feral’s flushed lips. Feral had beautiful lips; they might even be nicer than Lovely’s since he wasn’t snarling.

“I don’t want help from a sorcerer,” Feral grunted. He gasped and glared to the other side of him when Lovely sank his fangs into his arm in retaliation.

“Oh. I don’t think I’m much of a sorcerer.” Ky’s gaze moved over the cuts revealed on Feral’s jaw. “I mean, I just made a picture. I’m really an artist, right? So… So it should be okay.”

“Taste him, you stubborn thing.” Lovely pushed Feral’s face back toward Ky and held him down. “I took too much from you. You can barely put up a fight.”

Ky wasn’t going to kiss Feral if he insisted against it, even if it would help. Well, maybe just a little. Surely once Feral felt better, he probably wouldn’t be so angry about it. Lovely seemed to think so and held Feral in place while he returned to healing his strong arm with licks of his tongue.

“It’s just a taste, right? To make you feel better.” Ky tilted his head closer, Feral’s annoyed huff hot on his cheek. He licked his tongue out hesitantly. Ky felt more than a little daring to touch Feral’s lips. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bite. “Come on, Feral. Lovely says I taste sweet,” he teased.

“Foolish little whelp,” Feral grumbled. Ky used the opportunity to press his tongue inside his mouth. Feral held still, but Ky was determined and caught him by the side of his face so he could share as much of his fluids as possible.

Feral tasted like copper and something heady. His mouth was hot, and it made Ky dizzy when he ran his tongue over the demon’s in gentle strokes. He knew he was supposed to be helping, but Ky couldn’t stop from feeling crazy hot. His body reacted even when his mind told him he was just sharing energy. He didn’t know how the demons did it all the time.

Ky pulled away with a groan, his lips sore and tongue aching. He wanted more. His body was burning and tense, and he knew if he didn’t stop, he’d upset Feral even more. “Sorry. It’s hard to not get…” He exhaled shakily and flashed Feral a weak smile. “You have a nice mouth.”

Feral growled under his breath. He grabbed Ky by his silky, black hair, and pulled him back forcefully. Ky had a moment to wonder if Lovely would have to heal his face again if Feral started slashing, before his lips were crushed roughly by the demon’s.

“Gentle,” Lovely warned in Feral’s ear as his claws prickled on his neck.

Feral grunted and relaxed the grip on his hair after a moment. He pushed Ky back, crawled up his dazed form and straddled him. Feral’s muscular body pinned his slender form down while Ky stared up with dazed, silver eyes. “Silly little human.” Feral ducked down and drove his tongue into Ky’s gasping mouth; his strong fingers held him by his chin to keep him in place. Slowly, Feral let his hand slide down and caressed his throat and shoulders. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to share your life force with a Relic?”

Ky didn’t have an answer for that. He was too busy whimpering around the tongue pushing into his mouth as Feral tasted him, stole his breath and made him gasp. Large palms ran up his sides and burned against his skin. “Oh. Oh, god,” he moaned. Feral moved down to his pants and shredded them with his claws. Cool air soothed over Ky’s revealed skin.

“Listen to you. You’re always so loud, whelp.” Feral tugged at Ky’s pajama pants. The material ripped away from his legs with a tear. “You beg so nicely when Thornes has you filled. It’s a pleasing sound to wake to, you pretty slut.”

Galvin

He’s back. Coffee guy. Black hair, pale skin, gold eyes, red lips, really tight ass. Knocking on my office door like he doesn’t know who I am. Smiling at me like he doesn’t know what I am. Breathing easy like he doesn’t know he’s mine.

He’s been by six times this week. Coffee related. Stands outside my open office door, leaning on Margie’s desk while chatting up a storm. Tight jeans, hard thighs, very nice biceps under his polo. His name’s Jayden. Human resources sent me up a file on him before I requested it. Because they knew. One whiff of Jayden’s sweat, and I knew. Jayden, for whatever reason, has yet to figure things out. It’s been interesting.

“Hey, Mr. Starling, right? I’ve got five for you.”

He’s a terrible flirt. Margie’s been telling me. She also insists the kid is really just naïve as fuck. But he’s standing in my office doorway, breathing deep as he takes in every telltale scent my body gives off as he looks around. And he’s just smiling that lazy, confident smile he’s had since the first day I saw him. I have to say, I like it.

I don’t bother answering. I want to see what he’ll do. I’m a busy guy, and believe me, wasting my time not only wastes a ton of money, but jeopardizes the lives of every man, woman, and child in my very extensive pack. We’re shifters. Wolf. A few canine mutts, but not many. I have the most powerful clan on the East coast. I am the most powerful man on the East coast. And when I turn into a wolf, I am quite literally the top dog. Alpha. Packleader. Protector, warrior, and businessman all rolled into one.

“You must have an allnighter planned to need so much coffee. I think I’d be on a caffeine buzz by just two of these.” He steps in, drinks balanced in a cardboard holder. I watch him out of the corner of my eye while I finish looking over my financial report on my laptop. He hesitates a foot from my desk. I can feel him looking at me, taking in my broad shoulders, large hands, sharp, predatory face. I’m a silver wolf, and my hair matches. Combined with my ice blue eyes, and deep tan, I get a lot of stares. More so when my clothes are off. But he’s a slut, and he’s not subtle.

“The desk is fine,” I say when he continues to stand there. His hands have the slightest of tremors when he places the coffee down. Not naïve. Or at least, not anymore. I’ve got an Alpha’s voice. Low, seductive, and all power. I glance over my computer at him, and he’s stuck. Just like that. Gotta say, it’s good to be king. A couple of words, one hard stare, and a pretty thing like Jayden can’t move his legs.

“How many more people are waiting for drinks?” I ask, watching his pupils dilate from the sound of my voice. He’s hotter up close. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans in my multibillion-dollar setup. Jayden’s lower ranks, and he’s got nice thighs, so I’m going to let it slide.

“Um, twenty or so…” He trails off, exhaling loudly as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. He’s having a hard time. I have that effect on shifters. He’s close enough to smell my musk, and he’s pretty much jelly.

“I suggest you get going.” Or he’s going to stand here staring at me until he dies of starvation, or I leave.

He swallows, my eyes drawn to the way his throat convulses. Sweat is just starting to prickle on his brow, and he’s wafting a very enticing sex scent. “Right… I should, um, get back to work. Enjoy your coffee.”

I flash him a smirk, revealing a hint of fang. “I don’t drink coffee, Jayden.”

He swallows again, this time because he’s trying to figure out why I know his name. I’m an alpha. The Alpha. Only a few reasons I’d give a fuck to know my coffee guy’s name when I don’t drink coffee. His feet backpedal slowly, lovely gold eyes still caught in mine. Yeah, he’s something worth looking at. “Ah, well, you have enough to bathe in… so… yeah…”

Silently I watch him go. He practically collapses on Margie’s desk. Silly, naïve little wolf.

I IM my five guys. They’re in my office drinking the coffee by the time Jayden makes his way back. No one gets through the top floor without passing my office door.

“Trev.” I don’t say anything else. Trevor takes a final sip of his coffee, tosses the cup in the trash, and goes to greet my pretty new bitch.

Jayden tries to play it cool. He’s smooth, polite, and still has work to do. Trevor grins and grabs him firmly by the nape of the neck. Gold eyes half obscured by heavy lids, Jayden allows himself to be walked into my office. Good boy.

“Door?”

“Open.” It’s still work hours, and I might be needed.

Things have changed in my office since Jayden was last here. The most impressive would be the five muscular young men lounging on the leather couch that takes up two walls of the large space. I’m quick with introductions. Freddie heads Research and Development. Hans runs Accounting. Trevor’s my Vice, Sean my Junior Partner, and Liam’s my Marketing god. My guys call me Galvin, but Jayden will be referring to me only as Alpha. He will call them each Sir.

The guys give Jayden a polite hello while my coffee guy sways on his feet, his cheeks growing flushed from all the testosterone in the air. I hang with other alphas. They’re not rivals; they’re loyal. Useful for keeping my business running smoothly, and we all have similar interests. Jayden just nods, his lips parted as he begins to pant. Coffee guy has a very nice mouth.

I look at Trevor, who still has his hand on Jayden’s neck. “Strip him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Eyes widening, Jayden falls to his knees the instant he’s released. We’re off to a good start.

Face pressed up tight to the dingy bathroom mirror of his small apartment, eyes slit open so he could just make out his own dazed blue orbs, Beau forced another soap lubed finger into his aching hole. Gasping loudly, he pushed it as deep as he could get, not caring that it stung, that his flesh felt so raw and sore already. He couldn’t stop. It was Friday, he had woken up after dreaming of everything Darien had done to him last Tuesday, and his entire body was crying for more.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, driving his two fingers in deep, gaping when his hole was stretched wider as he spread them. “Fuck, please… Please…”

He was losing his mind.

Whimpering lowly, he began thrusting in and out of his clenching passage, hissing from the feel of his fingers scraping his burning hot flesh. He couldn’t stop. Had been wanting it so bad. Needing it so much. He had tried to hold back, had tried to not be this way, but every time he was alone too long, Beau remembered. And when he remembered, he needed to feel it again. Needed to be taken. Owned. Exposed and humiliated. It was wrong, and so fucked up, and it was making him so unbearably hard.

Pulling his head off the mirror, he panted loudly, his breath bouncing back hot on his face as he took in his creamy skin flushed red, brilliant blue eyes and golden shoulder length hair. His brows were furrowed, mouth open wide, tongue tip brushing his bottom lip as he groaned. He looked like a slut. Like some sort of man whore just begging to be fucked. And he was. He was secretly begging for his muscular, young student to walk into his bathroom and replace his fingers with his own thick ones. Maybe even that big dick of his.

Slamming his fingers deeper into his hole, Beau jerked his hips against the wall, rubbing his aching dick against the cool surface. He released a weak cry, then another as his body clamped down so tight on his digits. Close. God, he was so close. Just thinking about Darien got him so hard, so ready. How the tall boy had pushed him down over his desk, fingered him in front of his students. Humiliated him. Degraded him. Got him off so fucking good.

Beau came with a cry, his cum streaking the wall in long streams as he bucked on his fingers buried deep inside him. Fuck. Fuck, he was losing it.

Panting heavily, he ran his tongue out, licking up the mirror, moaning from the smooth feel of cool glass on his hot flesh. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall, seeking out his dripping cum, licking it off the surface while remembering how Darien had held him by his hair and forced him to lick his desk clean. Beau didn’t stop until he got every drop of his seed, and even then he couldn’t seem to pull away, lapping slow touches until his tongue was sore and his breathing had finally calmed.

***

It was Friday.

Beau had told himself to call out. He had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and told himself out loud that he was going to call out of work that day. Then he had gotten so hard he had stripped his pants off and fucked himself on his fingers. He had already come once that morning when he first woke, his dick so hard from dreams of his student that he barely touched it before he’d orgasmed.

It was crazy just how much he needed sex lately, how hot he got just thinking about Darien. It was wrong, he knew it because he wasn’t thinking about things like how nice the boy was, or how sweet he treated him. No, Beau was getting off on how possessive, rough, and brutal his controlling student was. How Darien had been able to push him up against a wall and grope him so thoroughly that he couldn’t escape, had not wanted to by the time the boy had his hands down his pants. And when he had fingered him, forcing him to bend over in front of his other students and the open classroom door, Beau had gotten so hot, so crazy he hadn’t been able to do anything but let the boy take whatever he wanted from his body.

He was in trouble. He couldn’t keep a straight head, couldn’t seem to find the moral ground that had been so solid before. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t even like men. But he got hard for Darien. Every time the student looked at him—God, touched him. Beau wanted him to touch him. Needed him to make him feel that way again.

What he really needed was to not go to school that day. It was a prestigious college, he was the newest, youngest teacher there, and if he went into work he knew he was going to do something completely inappropriate with a young man that could have him fired in an instant. He should have been fired. After what had happened, he should have been escorted off the grounds and possibly straight into a police cruiser.

But no one had said anything. Beau hadn’t reported the three hooligans that had destroyed his classroom, and the three punks hadn’t said a word to the Dean or authorities about how he’d then gotten on his knees and sucked the dick of the student that had stopped them. He had a strong suspicion Darien Castello was to blame for that as well. Not only was the boy as aggressive as they came, but he also had a senator for a father. Whatever Darien had said to his classmates after the incident had apparently been followed.

Or so, Beau hoped. He was still waiting for the axe to drop. Three days later, he was still unsure just what the hell had happened and if he was going to be able to handle what was coming next.

He still had the bruises on his hips where Darien’s fingers had dug in, the muscular twenty-two-year-old having ground him so tight against his desk it had left marks. He still had the cuts and slashes from the angry boys that had tried to beat him into giving them a passing grade. His hole still ached, still throbbed every time he thought of how Darien had pushed him over his desk and fingered him roughly until he came. All while claiming his teacher belonged to him.

“Fuck,” Beau groaned, hitting the brakes abruptly as the car in front of him stopped. He was hard again. He kept getting hard every time he thought about what had happened. Especially when he heard Darien still in his ear, whispering that he was a nasty, bad slut—his bad teacher, and he needed to be treated like it.

Beau didn’t think he was a bad teacher, not the way Darien had said it. Not really. In his early thirties, he’d only had a short string of respectable, if not extremely tepid relationships, all of them with women willing to overlook his feminine good looks with his silky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and slender form. He had never thought of himself as gay. He had certainly never thought to look at a student in any way that was inappropriate, male or female. But then, he had never met a young man like Darien Castello before.

Tall, black hair streaked with red, green eyes and pure muscular confidence, Darien was everything Beau had hated when he was in college. Mostly because Darien was the type of boy that liked to bully him. Now an established teacher, that had not changed. Even though Darien had been very interested in getting Beau off, he had also done it while extorting his teacher for money with the promise he’d hurt him if he didn’t pay up. And if money wasn’t available, Darien would be more than happy to take it out of his flesh with a good fucking.

His breath speeding up, Beau licked his lips, trying to will his erection away. He could still call out. He could turn the car around, call from his cellphone and pretend to be sick. Sure it was hardly a month into the term but it was just one day. One day to keep from doing something extremely stupid.

What that stupid thing was, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. He had the money. Darien had said he’d accept $50 a week to protect him from the sort of punks that would destroy his classroom and beat him bloody… But only if Beau offered something else in trade. Something sexual. $450 worth of sexual.

Beau had never thought to hire a prostitute, the idea too off-putting and crass. Now he wished he knew someone who had, only so he could get an idea of just what $450 would get with a person like that. Because when Darien’s eyes burned over him, he was pretty sure the young man saw him the same way most men looked at a hooker. Someone with a price that once reached would give them anything and everything.

Except Beau was the one paying Darien. To protect him. Maybe… maybe to look at him the way the boy kept doing. Maybe even to touch him, if he could face that thought as well. Maybe to make him do the many dirty, messed up things Darien wanted to do to him and a secret, naughty part of Beau desired to do. Like suck the boy’s thick cock as thanks for beating up his attackers.

“Go home,” Beau whispered, biting his lip and staring down the street where he could just make out the clock tower of the college administrative building. “Call out sick, and go home.” He ran his hand down the front of his pants, hissing softly as he pressed against his hard erection.

He had managed to not be fired for the incident. He had managed to not have his name dragged through the papers in some huge scandal over his cocky, handsome extortionist of a student. He wouldn’t be so lucky this time. It was tempting fate. Tempting the little good left in him.

Would you like that, Mr. Ashford? Do you want everyone to know you belong to me? Do you want to belong to me?

Darien’s voice again taunting in his ear, Beau took the turn into the college gates, driving to the faculty parking lot. He kept his mind blank, kept his expression flat, his mouth grim. It was just a day like any other day. Just a Friday. Just the day he decided if he was going to let Darien Castello bully him back onto his knees, maybe over his desk again, and give the boy everything he wanted.

“Hey, teach.”

Head ducked as he washed his hands at the sink, Beau shivered from the familiar voice, his eyes lifting up to the mirror. Darien. The dark haired, green-eyed boy somehow looked even taller that day, his muscular form on full display in a tight black t-shirt and clinging jeans, biceps revealing tattoos under the short sleeves.

Beau’s hands shook as he turned the faucet off, catching his own wide blue eyes in the mirror beneath his shoulder length blond hair. He was already panting, already growing hard, his cheeks flushing as Darien stared at him through the mirror, eyes moving over him hungrily and lingering on his bow tie.

“Mr. Castello, will you be joining my class today?” Beau asked, his voice hoarse as he made himself reach for a paper towel instead of falling to his knees like his body was screaming to do.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.” Darien watched his teacher patiently, waiting for Beau to dry his hands before addressing him again. “But I figured if I was going to let you teach me today, Mr. Ashford, it would be better to get something out of the way first.”

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Beau swallowed down the saliva building in this mouth. “Y-Yes?”

Darien crossed the distance in two strides, grabbing Beau roughly by the shoulders. “Put that mouth of yours to good work, teach. On your knees. Now.”

“Oh, fuck,” Beau groaned, his knees buckling when Darien pushed him down to the ground, his student’s large hands keeping him from swaying as he hit the floor. Fingers trembling, Beau tore at the boy’s fly while resting his head on his hip and giving in to the urge to breathe the brunette in. God, he was so strong. Made him feel safe. So dirty and protected.

“Better not dawdle, Mr. Ashford. Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in while you have my dick in your mouth,” Darien taunted, grabbing the blond by his hair and grinding his cock against the man’s cheek.

Fire and fear shuddering through him at the idea of getting caught, Beau pulled back enough to glance at the bathroom door. If anyone walked in they’d see Darien’s legs first. But it would only take a step, maybe two to see him after. Beau’s hair was recognizable—It would be so easy to identify him. He looked up at the brunette, whimpering lowly when intense green eyes burned into his.

“Open, pretty teach. Show me how much you missed me over the weekend.”

Staring up, Beau parted his lips, opening his mouth until Darien pulled him roughly by his hair and forced his head back. Groaning in the hold, Beau turned his gaze down to the large, thick dick of his student, taking in how hard and ready Darien already was to put it in him. He tried to lick the tip, wanting to taste it, wanting to have that thick flesh filling his mouth, but Darien kept pulling him back by his hair, Beau’s tongue outstretched while the teacher whimpered.

“God, you look like such a slut. You make me want to fuck you up so bad, teach.” Grunting, Darien shoved his dick between the blond’s parted lips, forcing Beau to hold still so he could get as deep as possible into his throat.

Eyes rolling back, Beau fought the wish to breathe, to choke or gag. He held himself still, letting Darien thrust into him shallowly, hitting the back of his throat with each pump. He couldn’t comprehend just how hard he was right now. A minute ago he had been tired but ready to teach his last class of the day, and now he was on his knees sucking his student’s cock. He felt so used and it was making him unbearably hard.

Beau glanced again at the bathroom door, groaning as his tonsils were ground by that blunt cockhead filling him again and again. God, if someone walked in he’d be ruined. He knew it. It didn’t matter if Darien’s father was a senator or not—There would be no fixing being caught like this.

It should have freaked him out, but Beau kept looking at the door hoping it would open. He wanted to be discovered. He wanted people to see Darien using him, getting off on his body, his mouth, his ass. The more he thought of it, the hotter he got, his entire body flushed and dizzy as he gave in to every relentless, gliding thrust of his student’s cock.

Growling, Darien held Beau tight against his body as he filled his throat, forcing two fingers into his mouth beneath his thick cock and making the blond open wider to him. “Fuck, that’s it. My fucking beautiful hole, look at you.” He rubbed Beau’s tongue while humping his face slowly, his dick swelling, balls tightening as he got close. “Hold on, teach. Just hold that slutty pose for a little longer.”

Hot tears streaming down his cheeks, Beau gurgled at the first splash of cum against the back of his throat, trying to swallow and failing. Darien’s cock suddenly withdrew, sperm streaming over the blond’s face as the boy graffitied his teacher’s skin in a seemingly endless hot rain.

Breathing heavily, Darien grabbed the blond by the back of his neck, pulling Beau back so he could take in the lines of cum all over his face. “Fuck, teach. You are a bad, bad man. Absolutely filthy.”

His mouth still hanging open, Beau gasped up at the brunette, eyes pleading for more.

“You close, Mr. Ashford?” Darien asked, his voice a low growl as he pushed three fingers into the blond’s gaping mouth and began to fuck him with the thick digits.

Beau couldn’t answer, mouth full, head caught too tight to even nod. But he could see that Darien knew. Could see it in the boy’s expression as he drank in every sight of Beau taking his fingers while dripping in his cum.

Beau moaned when he felt the touch of a sneaker to his hard dick, Darien holding his gaze while rubbing his shoe over his teacher’s erection. Beau struggled to talk around the fingers pushing deep into his throat, wanting to say that he needed to get his pants down. But Darien wouldn’t let up, and the boy gave a very demanding growl when Beau went to try to unzip.

Hands freezing, Beau’s face grew even redder, unable to look away from his student’s hungry glare above him. “You can clean your face, teach, that’s it. I want you in class wet with cum. You’re a bad teacher. My bad teacher. Even when you’re being good, I want you to still be filthy for me.”

Whimpering in agony, Beau bucked against the unyielding toe of his student’s sneaker, his body so tight, ass clenching, thighs hard as he jerked his release in hot spurts. Flushed and dizzy, he let Darien pull him to his feet, only to be slammed up back against the counter as the brunette crushed his lips to his and forcefully plundered his mouth with his tongue.

Pulling away just as abruptly, Darien pushed the blond’s disheveled hair from his face, staring into Beau’s dazed blue eyes as he took in his tears, cum, shame, and lust.

“You’re going to want to touch yourself during class, Mr. Ashford. You’re going to see me watching you, you’re going to get hard, and you’re going to want to touch yourself. Don’t.” Darien bent down, pressing his lips lightly to Beau’s dripping red ones. “I’ll be watching the whole time. No touching; I’ll punish you if you do. Now clean up before you’re late.”

Feeling completely lost and befuddled, Beau watched silently while Darien turned and left, his student giving him a final heated once over before the bathroom door swung shut.

Darien Castello could not take his eyes off of Mr. Ashford. The guy had the face of a model; a really naughty one that wanted so badly to be pushed down and messed up. Damn, he had never really gotten off on just a face, but with his soft blond locks, bright blue eyes, and pouting red lips, Darien was totally hooked on his new teacher. Unfortunately, so were his classmates.

Mr. Ashford looked like prey, plain and simple. He was average height, slender, and had a way to his shoulders and walk that just screamed ‘jump me.’ Currently Tony and Radford were doing just that. They had cornered the new science teacher by the lockers and looked ready to start punching and maybe even stuffing if they didn’t get some cash off the cutie.

Darien took his time, dragging on his cigarette as he approached. No one had noticed him yet, which was fine by him. He wanted to take the opportunity to look at Mr. Ashford up close. The guy was hot. Really fucking hot. Pale skin, golden hair, and damn those lips. The nasty things he would do to those lips. Radford better not punch the man’s face or he’d have to beat the fuck out of him for ruining perfection.

“What’s going on, guys?” Darien casually slung his arms over Tony and Radford’s shoulders. Both of his classmates immediately froze. Darien was top dog for a reason. He was the tallest kid in school, the strongest, and when the mood struck him, the meanest motherfucker there was. Everyone knew. The ones that didn’t, figured it fast. Mr. Ashford would be getting that privilege soon enough.

“Fuck, hey Darien,” Tony said hesitantly. He glanced sideways at the tall brunette who had crept up behind them. When his eyes fell on Darien’s bicep right next to his face—the flesh hard and tattooed—he swallowed. “We were just having a chat with the new teacher. Nothing to get involved in.”

Darien’s gaze traveled over the blushing teacher who was currently glaring holes at the three students as he tried to straighten his rumpled shirt. Darien took his cigarette from his mouth. “Ah, well that’s where you’re wrong. I happen to have Mr. Ashford for fourth period. And if you’re messing him up, well, that’s going to mess up my grade.” Darien fixed on Tony again. “You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?”

Radford immediately took a step back and ducked from his heavy arm. “Right, so I’m getting the fuck out. Sorry ’bout that, Mr. Ashford.”

Darien smirked at the incredulous expression on the man’s face when Radford apologized. “Um, don’t think anything of it,” Beau mumbled as he straightening his tie.

“What about you, Tony?” Darien asked, his voice full of implication.

Starting, Tony winced. “Hey, I got the message loud and clear. You wanna be teacher’s pet? By all means.” He went to duck away, but Darien grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Tony sideways while he hissed.

“Wallet.”

Glaring, Tony reached into his back pocket and slammed the leather into Darien’s hand. Flipping it open, Darien raised his brow at his ever watching teacher. “This all of it?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Beau answered, expression full of surprise and gratitude.

Damn, he had amazing eyes. Sexy, wide, glowing blue eyes. Not bothering to look at Tony, Darien shoved the punk aside and listened to him huff away. He used the time to study his new teacher, one he hadn’t met until that moment. That was definitely going to change.

Darien let his gaze move from Beau’s handsome face, sturdy shoulders, and down his lithe body still trembling in aftershock. Sexy. Sexy, and sleek, and in desperate need of a very hard fucking.

There was no way he was letting things end here.

“You’re Darien Castello?” Voice quiet, Beau combed shaking fingers through his shoulder length locks. His gaze had strayed to where the other two had dissapeared, as if just waiting for them to turn around and come at him.

“That would be me, teach.” Tilting his head, Darien offered the man a drag on his cigarette. When Mr. Ashford shook his head, Darien finished it off, then dropped it to the hallway floor. He crushed it carelessly with his heel.

“You really shouldn’t…” Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened when Darien pushed him back and blocked him in with his taller, stronger form.

“You saw how easy that was for me, right teach? I just showed up, and those losers walked away.”

“Y-Yes, I was meaning to thank you.”

Darien smirked. The guy had the cutest fucking stutter too. “You might want to hold off on that.”

He opened up the wallet again, pulled out the cash and counted it while Mr. Ashford watched him with growing trepidation. “I’m going to take this… $300, and you’re going to bring me another $200 by Friday.”

“I am?” Mr. Ashford’s eyes narrowed even as his voice broke.

“It’s a good deal.” Cash now free of the wallet, Darien slowly snaked his hand around until he found his teacher’s back pocket. Ducking closer, he slowly pushed his hand into the man’s pants, watching intently as Mr. Ashford blushed and refused to meet his eyes.

Yeah, the guy was smoking hot and definitely interested. What it would take to get him to admit that interest, Darien was looking forward to figuring out.

He left the wallet but not before stealing a small squeeze of that tight, firm ass. “You pay me $500 a week, and I’ll make sure guys like that don’t mess up your pretty face.”

“You’re out of your mind—Ah.” His eyes closed as Darien’s arm suddenly pressed across his throat and he fell silent, head forced back against the locker.

“Mr. Ashford, it would be really easy for me to hurt you. And believe me, I wouldn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.” No, Darien would love every moment of covering this hot man with as many bruises as he could handle. Moving his head so that he was pressing his mouth to his ear, he added softly, “But if you’re a good boy and you do as I say, I’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you as long as I’m here to protect you.” Mr. Ashford gave the slightest of tremors and Darien fought back a smile. “It’s not a free service, teach. If you don’t want to pay me in cash, I might be willing to accept a trade.”

He slowly pulled a lock of Mr. Ashford’s hair aside, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. “I can think of a lot of things a sexy guy like you could do for me, teach.” His eyes locked with stunning blue, Darien pushed a thumb against those damn enticing red lips and smirked when Mr. Ashford gasped and turned his head away.

“Think about it. Next Friday once school gets out. Your room.” He pulled away, eyes lingering on the man’s lithe form. Mr. Ashford’s face was flushed with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and shame. It was sexy as hell, and Darien could think of a million ways to make him look like that all the time—starting with forcing him to his knees.

Fuck, it was his teacher’s fault for having such a damn sexy face. He might as well be begging for it.

Darien walked away whistling, hands folded behind his head. Breathing heavily, Mr. Ashford leaned weakly on the wall and watched him go.

“Hey, Jayce, isn’t that your little brother?”

Glancing over Paul’s large shoulder, Jayce searched to see where his friend was tilting his head. The mall was crowded as usual, but yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot Declan. “Stepbrother,” he muttered darkly. They didn’t look alike. Jayce was tall, muscular, tanned with shaggy, sandy blond hair and dark eyes. Declan was… well, Declan.

All black hair, blue eyes, and gothed out to the gills. The kid looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of black ink. Tight black semi-transparent shirt, long black shorts, black trenchcoat, black boots, black belt, black choker and bracelets; Declan had a very obvious theme going. Even his eyeliner and nail polish were black. Everything about the kid was black except for his skin. No, his skin was so pale, Jayce swore it glowed half the time. Then there were his eyes. Blue. Crazy blue. Manic and fucked up, and it was always so hard for him to look away from his brother’s eyes. Declan was beautiful.

Jayce wanted to fuck his little brother, and it was really starting to be a problem.

“What is he, some sort of vampire now?” Paul snickered, ducking his head when Declan approached.

Jayce kept his mouth shut, trying not to stare at his sexy-ass brother. There was something fucked up in his little brother’s head. Jayce wasn’t sure what it was but ever since they’d started sharing a room, things had gotten awkward. Part of that was on Declan for being an angry freak. The other part was on Jayce for wanting to do a lot of freaky stuff to the kid. It really wasn’t cool but he was behaving, so that was something.

He kind of felt sorry for Declan. Sort of. The kid had to move to a new town, start a new school, and, oh yeah, leave his old life behind. The kids there were total asses about the goth thing. Not all of them, but enough that his little brother hadn’t made many friends yet. Maybe not any. He was a total loner.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted when Declan was in range. The brunette looked him right in the eye, coolly raised a pierced eyebrow, and then kept walking like he hadn’t said a word. Asshole. There might be a reason Declan didn’t have any friends. Jayce sure as fuck didn’t want to be his friend. Still didn’t keep him from staring at his ass as he walked away, though.

“Harsh,” Paul muttered, grinning when Jayce met his gaze. “You two still fighting?”

“I don’t think we are. Hard to fight when we barely say two words to each other.”

It hadn’t always been that way. Their parents had dated for years and he and Declan had spent all their free time together. The kid had been practically tied to his hip. Declan used to idolize him and Jayce had been thrilled to have a brother. Even if the kid was younger and insisted on being nerdy. Declan had been his best friend. Then everything had gone to shit.

Jayce wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. Their parents had gone through a rough patch and took a break. It turned out to be exactly what the two of them needed because fourteen months later his mom, Sarah, married Declan’s dad, Greg, and the Rainers had moved into his house. But something had changed during that break. Declan refused to answer any of Jayce’s texts or calls as if their parents splitting meant that they couldn’t be friends. Jayce had been preoccupied with college at the time and hadn’t really realized just how much his brother had shut him out. After the wedding, Declan moved into his room a completely different guy. Cold. Goth. Fucked up.

Sexy as sin.

The revelation that his brother was beyond hot had been extremely uncomfortable on Jayce, and not just because they were currently fighting. Declan was the kid he had protected and damn near half raised, their parents always at work and leaving them on their own. He had done his best to protect his brother from the assholes that would look at his nerdy clothes and silly books and talk down to him. Now, well, now every time he looked at his little brother in his ridiculous skin tight black clothes and girly makeup, he just wanted to push him up against the nearest sturdy surface and fuck him raw.

He was pretty sure he was going to hell, perving on his little brother. They might not have been related, but Declan was still everything to him even if he couldn’t stand whatever dumbass phase the kid was going through at the moment. Which just made it so much more messed up that he dreamed about fucking D nearly every night now.

He almost wished he had gone out of state for school instead of attending the local university. Seeing Declan acting out sucked. He had lost his brother only to gain some angry, albeit really hot punk. The kid got pissed every time Jayce even said the word goth. Declan had grown his hair out, all sleek and cut spiky, and although Jayce had managed not to say a word yet about it, D sure hated when he hid his hairbrush.

“I heard a rumor about him,” Paul said while they were walking to the food court.

“What, that he’s an ax-murder that’s escaped from an institution?” Jayce had already heard that one. The kids around there were total dicks and had shit for imagination.

Paul looked around, ducking his head so he was talking into the blond’s ear. “Nope. That he sucks cock.”

Jayce snapped his mouth shut, glaring sideways at his giant of a friend. Jesus, why would he tell him something like that? He was fucked up in the head already about D.

“Jason Henley’s, to be precise. So, is it true? You share a house with him. You probably know if he’s—”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t be that way. Vanessa is crushing on him and just wants to know if she has a shot. She thinks he’s hot, even with his girly hair and makeup.”

Another thing Jayce didn’t ever want to hear. He knew Declan was hot. He didn’t want his fucking friends thinking it about his little brother too. Jayce stopped walking, turning on Paul. “Whatever strange my stepbrother is into has nothing to do with me. Definitely nothing to do with you. Now drop it.”

“Touchy.”

Jackass. Glaring straight ahead, Jayce tried to keep his mind from running in circles. Declan was gay? For real? The kid had never talked to him about guys, or girls, for that matter. He’d never met D’s old friends—the few he’d had. For all he knew, Declan used to have a boyfriend. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell him? Declan knew he was bi. He had to know Jayce wouldn’t have anything bad to say about him if he was gay.

“How certain is this rumor?” He finally asked Paul, frustration clear in his voice. How could Declan have kept such a huge secret from him? Why would he have?

“Ah… pretty certain.” Paul suddenly grabbed Jayce’s arm, pulling him around a pillar and pointing down the line of tables ahead as they stepped into the food court. It was Declan, sitting with his book resting on the table. But he wasn’t alone. Some sleazy looking guy was hovering over his shoulder, talking in his ear. Sure enough, the guy suddenly leaned his head and gave Jayce’s little brother a kiss.

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Whoa, where the fuck are you going?” Paul grabbed the blond’s shoulder and Jayce jerked to a stop. “What, you going to go beat him up or some shit?”

Fuck yes. “It’s fucking Jason Henley,” Jayce hissed, glaring at the two of them as the loser sat his ass down across from his little brother and ran his fingers through Declan’s perfect hair. He was going to fucking kill that asshole!

“Keep it together, big bro,” Paul said in his infuriatingly reasonable tone while refusing to let Jayce go. “If Declan’s as smart as you used to say, he’ll see right through Henley’s crap. He doesn’t need you going in there embarrassing the hell out of him with your macho bullshit.”

Jayce wasn’t so sure. Declan had been messed up lately, acting out, looking for trouble. The kid wouldn’t talk to him for shit and it had been worrying him more and more. Now this. Gay with Jason Henley.

“Henley’s too old for him,” Jayce finally grunted, allowing himself to be pulled away.

“He’s our age,” Paul said with a snort. Jayce and Paul had been on the wrestling team together in high school. Paul might act like a gentle giant but under his flab was enough muscle to keep Jayce from making an ass of himself if he lost his shit.

God, if only it had been anyone other than Jason Henley.

“He’s too old. Old enough to drink. Old enough to get Declan in so much fucking trouble—And that asshole is total trouble. You know his rep.”

“You’ll only make it worse. Keep your mouth shut and let your bro make his own mistakes.”

Jayce growled but didn’t say anything else.

Shit, Henley was such a fucking loser. Like, drugged up half the time, drunk the other half, and all mean spirit. He had also already managed to flunk out of college while Declan was still in his graduating year of high school. Jayce knew it was none of his business, but hell, the idea of that asshole touching his little brother just really pissed him off. The kid could do better.

D was only one summer in Jayce’s town and had already hooked up with the biggest loser around. There really was something fucked in the kid’s head.

***

Jayce had hoped to talk to Declan once he got home later that night but D wasn’t there. Neither were his mom and stepfather, Greg. Not a huge shocker with the last two. They were both doctors at the local hospital and worked the worst hours. Jayce had foolishly expected when his mom finally got married that he’d see her more. Instead he’d been stuck with Declan, which just felt like being extra alone for all the icy distance the kid put between them. Impressive, considering all the shit he had crowded into Jayce’s room.

His mom kept promising they’d move to a larger house soon. Going from a family of two to four overnight had been intense. Declan didn’t get any say in being shoved out of his fancy mansion and into Jayce’s cozy house. The kid was probably hurting about that too—Not that D would tell him.

Jayce made himself a quick snack and then went to his room to get his homework done.

Declan was usually haunting the living room or backyard while reading his horror novels. He read scary shit; weird, dark, bloody stuff that made Jayce wonder if he might be a closet serial killer, as did the kid’s decorating sense. Half of his room was now covered in what he could only assume was vampire paraphernalia, Asian, at that. D had a lot of posters of guys with sleek spiky hair just like Declan’s dressed in elaborate coats, leather, ruffles, and lace. Oh, and they were all in makeup. It was weird. Especially when Jayce spent a day checking a few of them out, only to have Declan tell him they were men. All of them.

That might have been a big clue, now that he thought about it.

Gay. His little brother was gay. And D had never told him. It didn’t make sense. Jayce had told Declan when he was figuring out he was Bi. It had been a big deal to finally tell someone. Declan had been cool about it. Quiet, but hell, he was always quiet. But D hadn’t said shit about liking guys. Had he said something wrong? Did he somehow indicate that there could only be one sexually free brother in the house when he’d moved in? It felt like something he would remember. Fuck.

Maybe Declan knew. Maybe he knew deep inside Jayce’s messed up head he had been checking his little brother out all fucking summer and masturbating to his image. The kid had nothing to worry about. Jayce would only ever look. He knew it was wrong. D was a kid to him—even if he was angry as fuck lately. He was his brother and you just didn’t do that shit. No matter how much he really wanted to.

Jayce honestly didn’t think it was him. There was just something going on with D. Something kinda messed up. Even his bed was black. Black sheets, black bedspread, blood red satin pillows—He must have been feeling rebellious. Declan’s side of the room was covered in candles, all elaborate, drippy looking things in twisted silver holders. The kid kept dead roses in vases with incense smelling up the place. It was really starting to take over the room. Although he did like the incense; it smelled nicer than his gym clothes.

It was like D was living in a fantasy world and Jayce couldn’t figure out why he needed it. All the books, his themed room; he couldn’t imagine being so dedicated to a theme. He just had stuff. Clothes ended up in the bureau, sometimes the floor. He had a few posters, mostly of his favorite video games—And none of them matched. The bedspread was a gift from his grandmother. He could barely put the effort into matching his damn socks. Declan had a theme for his life. It was impressive and fucked up.

Jayce was done with homework and twenty minutes into a very difficult raid in his online game when Declan finally came home. And fuck his life, he wasn’t alone. The kid had finally made some friends. Three very loud, assholic friends that he immediately wanted to beat the shit out of when he realized they were lighting up in his fucking living room.

Seriously, who did that? Just walked into a stranger’s house and started smoking weed? No one had even given a fucking hello.

Jayce wasn’t shocked to discover Jason Henley sucking down a hit, his arm tight around Declan’s waist as they shared the couch. One of Henley’s friends—Jayce had seen him in the parking lot of his school and was pretty sure he was college too—was flipping through the now blaring television. Apparently being high meant also being deaf. The third was laughing about some shit while texting on his phone. Somehow he seemed the least obnoxious of the group, even though Declan was silent and sober.

Ignoring his brother, he focused in on the asshole trying to blow a smoke ring while stinking up his couch. He and Henley had gone through school together. Jayce had managed to not have to talk five words to the loser up until that moment. “Take your pot and get the fuck out of my house.” No, he wasn’t subtle. He was pissed. It was the first time Declan had brought people over and they plain sucked.

“Shit, chill the fuck out, Flint. Or is it Rainer now?”

“Flint,” Declan said in his quiet voice, looking at Jayce nonchalantly. “We kept our last names.”

“Whatever,” Henley snickered, grinning meanly. “Chill the fuck out, Flint.”

Jayce was about five seconds from punching the guy in the face. He could take him, easy. Heat racing through his body, Jayce turned to Declan. “I’m serious, D. Get them the fuck out or I will. You won’t like how I do it.”

Declan was three years younger than Jayce, nearly a head shorter, and his big brother could literally bench him. He knew it, and yet, cool as could be, grabbed the joint from Henley and took a hit. He held it between long fingers, unblinking as he looked at Jayce with his unnerving blue eyes. “Fine. There’s nothing to do in your shit house anyways.”

Motherfucking ass. Jayce waited, his arms folded over his chest to keep from swinging. Henley didn’t want to leave. Too fucking bad. By the time the three stoners were finally through the front door, Jayce was ready to start throwing shit. Namely them. He grabbed Declan before he could go, holding him by the arm while the brunette stared back defiantly.

“You want to bring people over here, that’s fine. But tell them to leave their fucking drugs at home.”

Blowing a strand of ink-black hair out of his eyes, Declan looked completely void of emotion. “Whatever. Not like it’s my house or anything.”

God, he wanted to punch the kid through the fucking wall. He had done everything to make Declan feel welcome. D just kept shutting him out.

“You have shit taste in friends. Normal people don’t get fucked up the second they walk into someone else’s house.”

“Fuck you and your normal.” Declan wrenched his arm free, slamming out the door. Jayce almost followed after, but there was really nothing to say besides a big ‘fuck you,’ and he was trying really hard not to lose his shit. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied that he had managed to break through his brother’s infuriating icy facade for a moment.

God, the kid pissed him off. Worst brother ever.

Jayce might have been referring to himself. Declan had looked fucking hot. Sexy as hell.

Chapter 2

Jayce received a text around eight to inform him that his mom and Greg weren’t going to be home for the pizza he had already ordered and eaten. Also not a fucking shocker. He spent the rest of the night pissed off, playing video games and then pacing as the clock kept ticking and Declan didn’t return home.

His little brother had just met those guys. He was new to town, new to the school, new to everything, and he was letting some fucked up college stoners drive him around. Jayce couldn’t stop the paranoid fear that Declan had gotten into a car accident. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them go until they had gotten the drugs out of their system first. Fuck him if he’d inadvertently caused D’s death because he couldn’t chill over some pot. It wasn’t like it was ecstasy or meth, or even cocaine. He wasn’t tripping on acid.

God, but it had been so fucking rude. Walking into his house like no one else existed. Like it hadn’t been his home for the last ten years. He had helped his mom pick out the place. He was the one that had chosen the couch in the living room that the losers were stinking up with their smoke. Fuck.

He hoped D was alright.

Jayce knew Declan was only a few years younger than him, but he was such a fucking naïve child at times. The kid just didn’t know the world even if he got straight A’s in school. He was always reading, thinking that was the way shit happened. Like you could plan, like people made sense the way words did. The fucked up kids didn’t make sense. From everything Jayce had heard about Henley, he was a user. A user of drugs and a user of boys. And now Declan was just hanging around, not understanding that just because a guy got hard over him doesn’t mean he was in love. Guys got hard over everything; he knew firsthand.

He was going to kill Henley if he touched his little brother. Should have beaten his face in before they’d even left the house for having the nerve to put his arm around Declan in front of him. Fucking sleaze.

He was just about ready to change out of his pajamas and start driving around looking for his brother when he heard a car pull up. Voices raised in laughter flowed in through the window while Jayce looked at the clock on his phone. 2:25 am. The little fuck. The backdoor opened then shut. Hearing a small crash, Jayce quickly strode down the hall, flipping on lights as he moved.

“Hey… big bro.” Declan smiled lopsidedly from his slump on the wall. Jayce stopped cold, closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten.

For fuck sake, the kid was drunk.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell D how fucking stupid he was for hanging out with a bunch of fucking losers and then getting shitfaced with them. But he just bit his tongue. Saying that kind of shit would only make Declan want to do it again.

Jayce crossed the kitchen, grabbing the brunette by the shoulder and pulling him off the wall. Declan swayed, stumbling forward, snorting in laughter. “Oh shit. You’re not going to spank me, are you?”

He really fucking should. “You’re fucked up. Get your ass in bed and I’ll put some coffee on.” Jayce pushed him towards the hall. Declan nearly fell, grabbing onto the kitchen table for dear life. Fuck, he was really messed up. “How much did you drink?”

Staring down at the table, a smile slowly split Declan’s lush lips. “Not much… Couple shots.”

“Declan—Fuck!” It couldn’t have been fucking beer like a normal kid. No, he had to go get fucking hard liquor into him.

“No, it’s okay. It was all very sophis… sophis… sophisticated,” he mumbled, turning his smile Jayce’s way. Declan began to lose his balance, his eyes blinking in alarm as he tilted towards the floor. Jayce grabbed him before he could fall, steadying the brunette and pulling him into the hallway.

“You’re an idiot. What the fuck were you trying to prove to those losers? You think they’re going to like you more if you get just as fucked up as they are?” Damn it, he was nagging like some bitchy mother and he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Mmm… Maybe I want to like me more.” Reaching the bedroom, Declan nearly fell when his brother released him. Jayce directed him to his bed so when the kid’s legs finally gave he’d have something soft to land on.

“Change. I’ll be back after I put the coffee on.” Jayce left him struggling with his coat while he escaped to the kitchen and tried not to punch the wall in frustration. He should never have let D leave with those losers. Should have… What? Tied him up? Seriously, Declan did whatever the fuck he wanted. Jayce just hadn’t realized it was going to include fucking up his life.

Should he tell Greg? Was that the answer for something like this? Jayce tapped his cellphone in his pocket while he put the coffee on, his mind whirling. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what the hell Declan’s father would do. Greg was a bit of a religious nut. He was always at the hospital, but while Jayce’s mom was there to provide a service doing something she loved, Greg looked at it like it was his calling.

Maybe he should just wait until morning. Talk to the kid when he was sober and he could feel him out to see if he was going to pull this kind of shit again. Jayce wasn’t his father. Hell, he was barely Declan’s brother. It really wasn’t his goddamn responsibility to make sure—

There was a loud crash from the bedroom. Scowling, Jayce jogged down the hall, only to find his lamp was broken. Not Declan’s lamp. No, that would have just been fair. No, the kid had knocked over his lamp with his jacket and was now on Jayce’s bed. One of his tall boots was halfway off his leg and he was staring at his feet blankly like he had forgotten what he was doing. Fuck his life.

Declan blinked up in surprise when Jayce walked into the room. “My boot broke.”

Yeah, just fucking perfect. Growling, Jayce knelt down, pulling at Declan’s boot. It wouldn’t budge and he had the horrible notion that he was going to have to unlace the godawful things. Then he found the zipper on the side. De-booted, he tapped Declan’s arms until the kid lifted them, then pulled his silky shirt up and over his head.

“Whoa, hold on,” Declan mumbled when Jayce reached for his belt. The brunette pushed himself up, trying to stand, only to stumble forward as he tripped over his boots. “Crap.”

“Stop moving,” Jayce ordered exasperatedly as he saved the boy from the ground again. It was hard enough to get him changed while trying not to look at him. Jayce refused to perv out on his little brother no matter how milky white his skin looked. “Where do you keep your pajamas?”

The question taking a moment to sink in, Declan finally pointed to the corner of the room where he kept his clothes’ hamper. Jayce took a step to leave, but Declan grabbed him, his knees wobbling unsteadily. “Wait… Dizzy,” he giggled, nearly falling again just standing still.

“Declan…” He was annoying as fuck, but D’s smile was heartwarming and made his eyes sparkle. The kid really didn’t smile much anymore. Shaking his head, Jayce tried to walk the boy over to his bed again, but the kid’s feet weren’t budging. “Come on. One foot in front of the other.”

Snickering, Declan made an attempt, managing to step on Jayce’s foot and slide down his body as he immediately fell forward.

Jayce inhaled sharply, his senses suddenly on high alert. Declan’s hands were on his hips, his face pressed into his abs, chest grinding firmly against his dick with only his thin pajama pants between them. Awkward. Especially when his brother looked up at him, his stunningly blue eyes gleaming, lush lips twisted in a smile that could only be defined as sexy. Very awkward. Getting hard awkward.

Swallowing, Jayce wrapped an arm under Declan’s shoulders and pulled him up to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his brother was shirtless and very warm. He was determined to drag the kid to his bed and get the fuck out.

Declan gasped, his eyes wide as he stumbled and fell flush against Jayce, his face tucking into the crook of the taller boy’s neck. God, if he could just get this done before it got any weirder…

And now D was licking his neck.

“You have a very… very nice neck.”

“Please don’t suck my blood. I’m very fond of it remaining in my body.” Jayce dragged him as best he could because his brother had managed to go limp while at the same time clinging to him. It would be easier to just lift him but that would involve grabbing his ass, or thighs… Nope. Not happening. He had to drag him.

Declan snickered into his throat, his breath hot and tickling as he now tried to nip Jayce. Served him right for mentioning vampires. His brother was lithe and sleek in his arms, making it difficult to get a grip. He eventually got Declan across the room and to his bed. He turned, trying to push Declan down, but the kid was wrapped around him like a leech. His teeth kept sending sparks through him Jayce was having a really difficult time not responding to.

“Declan, get off me.” Jayce gripped his shoulders, carefully prying the boy back. Declan growled in protest and grabbed his arm. Jayce froze as their hips shifted. Declan was hard. Fuck. Seriously not cool.

“Ah… Sorry, big bro,” Declan snickered softly, his face again burrowed into Jayce’s neck. “You’re just really… really hunky.” Hands moving down his older brother’s biceps, Declan squeezed hard, fingers fanning and pushing his short sleeves up. “You have the sexiest fucking shoulders I’ve ever seen.”

Right. So apparently Declan was very gay and so horny he didn’t care who he was touching. “Declan, stop grinding your dick into my thigh and get the fuck off me.”

Jayce was having a really difficult time pushing the kid away. It felt so fucking wrong to have his little brother rub up against him. Wrong because it was his brother, but extremely hot because it was Declan, and Declan was really, really hot. Especially when his wet lips kept pressing to his neck, Declan’s hands now pushing under his shirt and touching his back, pulling him closer.

Jayce was a natural, hotblooded guy that could get hard if the wind blew, and he was trying to justify that now. Declan’s hair and makeup made the kid look so different from how he’d looked growing up. He really couldn’t be expected to not think he was hot. He had eyes. But that didn’t mean it was okay to act on it. It was just really difficult to set boundaries at the moment. Declan’s dick was rubbing against his and it was intense, and dirty, and the kid really needed to get the fuck off of him before he lost his mind.

“Declan, stop… Oh fuck,” Jayce groaned, one of Declan’s arms wrapping around his waist and crashing their lower bodies together. He tried to steady himself, his little brother’s weight threatening to knock them over, but it only pulled Declan tighter against him. God, he felt good. He had been dying to touch the kid and it was so hard to keep it together now that he was in his arms.

“Shhh… It doesn’t mean anything.” Declan’s tongue licked over Jayce’s throat, silky hair tickling as he nipped his flesh. “Fuck, you’re hot. Just want to… God, I want you… Want you so much.”

He was drunk. Fucked up, likely stoned, and definitely drunk. And his hand was down the front of Jayce’s pants. “Holy fuck.”

Jayce grabbed the boy’s wrist but couldn’t bring himself to pull him away. Declan’s fingers slowly wrap around his hard cock, brushing up Jayce’s length, teasing over his head. Jayce’s eyes closed, every nerve he had focused on those fingers first taunting and now bolder, wrapping tighter and stroking. “Hell, D. You really shouldn’t be doing that.”

He should stop him. He should really, really stop him.

“That’s it, Jayce… Fuck… Tell me you like it.” Declan licked up his brother’s neck while panting, gripping his other arm around the taller boy’s back. He tried to wrap his leg around Jayce’s, the room tilting from the move. Before he knew it, Jayce was crushing Declan into the bed, the brunette moaning beneath his larger body.

Shit, he had to stop. It was his fucking brother. His naïve, vulnerable, once sweet little brother that was totally messed up.

He tried to untangle himself from Declan’s long limbs, but the brunette was all over him, his knees hooked around the blond’s waist, arms tight on his neck. “Declan, come on… You’re not thinking.” Jayce was stronger, but he was afraid he might hurt him. The kid was just really drunk and fucking confused. He’d hate himself for doing this tomorrow.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Declan gasped, then his mouth was on Jayce’s, his tongue shoving past his lips. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

There was something really fucking wrong with him when it came to his little brother.

Growling, Jayce grabbed Declan by his hair, wrapping the silky locks around his fist and pulling hard. Declan groaned, his head falling back in the harsh grip as he looked up at Jayce. His eyes were burning that crazy blue, his lids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips blood red. God, he so was sexy. Jayce wanted to fuck those lips so bad.

“Bro…” Declan whispered, his dark lashes fluttering as he panted.

Hearing the boy call him that sent a terrible stab of guilt through his chest. He was just a kid. A dumb, naïve, confused kid that had always trusted him to take care of him. But he was also beautiful. Declan had always been, even before he had started wearing all that shit on his eyes. Jayce had noticed more times than he had ever wanted to admit to himself, his sweet brother so hard to look away from.

“Don’t call me that,” Jayce growled, pulling his hair harder, watching Declan’s lips part in a low moan. Wet. His mouth was so fucking red and wet looking. Jayce pressed his thumb to his brother’s bottom lip, listening as Declan’s breath hitched. God, he shouldn’t. Really.

Eyes caught on Jayce’s, Declan licked his tongue out, moving over his knuckle. Jayce pressed harder and the brunette opened, pulling his thumb into his wet heat. Declan sucked firmly then ran his teeth lightly over the pad of his finger. A shudder running through him, Jayce pulled his thumb away, cupped his brother’s face and kissed him.

Groaning, Declan met him eagerly even when Jayce crushed his lips too hard, gripped his face too rough. He needed to taste him. Just once. Just this one time he would taste him. He plunged his tongue into Declan’s mouth, the brunette moaning, clinging weakly to his brother’s shirt, melting into him, giving in. It sparked something dark in Jayce, primitive and raw. He wanted Declan to give in to him. To stop his incessant fighting and icing him out, and just give in.

Rocking his hips down into his little brother’s, Declan’s thighs clenched Jayce’s waist, their erections grinding together. Their noises were loud and slick as Jayce kissed him relentlessly, exploring every plane, rubbing his tongue against Declan’s, biting the boy’s ripe lower lip sore and swollen. Declan didn’t resist, his reactions slow and uncoordinated the longer his brother suffocated him with every touch of his lips and thrust of his tongue.

It was so hard to hold back, so hard to not take all the many things Jayce had tried to not want from his brother. But he did want them. He had wanted them for the longest time. By the way Declan was moaning, Jayce wasn’t so sure he was alone with that crazy need.

“Jayce… Oh fuck, please. Touch me. Dreamed of you… touching me.” Gasping into the hard kiss, Declan grabbed one of Jayce’s hands, pulling it down between the crush of their bodies, knuckles scraping hot, bare flesh. He was sweating, his flat stomach slippery under Jayce’s fingertips.

He shouldn’t. It was definitely crossing the line. Fuck, kissing was bad enough. Grinding him into his stupid black bed was bad. But to touch him while he was drunk… There was no forgiving that. Jayce was supposed to protect Declan from the kind of losers that would try to do that to him, not be one.

“Please, bro… Please.” Declan pulled harder on Jayce’s hand, pushing until he had his older brother’s palm pressed against the bulge in his jean shorts.

Fuck. Oh fuck, he felt good. He was hard, and he was begging, and fuck, it was really wrong. “D, we should stop,” Jayce muttered, even as he rubbed his palm firmer, groaning as Declan bucked into his hand. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He was done thinking. Declan was whimpering soft cries as he humped his hand, and he was done trying to figure out just how wrong it was. Rolling the two of them to the side, Jayce quickly got to Declan’s belt, unclasping it and tearing through his button and fly. He pushed the boy’s shorts down his thighs, then his underwear—yup, even his fucking underwear was black—and pulled them off his brother’s long, toned legs. Fuck, he was breathtaking.

Pale everywhere. Long, slender, but still toned and strong. He was like something out of a fucking painting, perfect milky flesh and hard, flushed red cock. Jayce couldn’t stop looking at it, a question in the back of his mind of just what the hell D was on that he could be hard while so drunk. But he was. Dripping precum from his throbbing tip. God, he was beautiful.

“Jayce…”

“Quiet, D. Just lie there nice and quiet for a sec.”

Silent, Declan just watched, eyes glowing as Jayce began to move his hands over his brother’s body. Declan’s knee bent when his brother’s large palm roughly moved up his leg, his thighs spreading wide. Jayce slid his hand heatedly over the boy’s inner thigh, his smooth flesh trembling when he gave a squeeze.

He wanted D. He wasn’t supposed to, but god, he wanted him. When he kissed Declan’s nipple, the brunette gasped, and when their eyes met, his little brother looked near tears. God, he was fucking up. Fucking up, touching his brother because the kid was drunk and too fucked in the head to stop him.

“Please,” Declan whispered, his eyes caught in Jayce’s. “I’ll let you do anything. I just… I need you to touch me.”

God, he was so fucked up. Jayce could only pray Declan didn’t say that sort of thing to other guys.

“You’re drunk,” Jayce said hoarsely, trying to stop himself. The kid didn’t know what he was saying. He was just horny and drunk.

“You’re hard.”

The little fucker. Jayce ran his wide tongue over Declan’s nipple again, then pulled it into his mouth. Whimpering loudly, Declan’s fingers tangled into his shaggy hair. Jayce nipped at his slick bud and the brunette arched, and fuck, every noise his little brother made was so sexy. Jayce ran his hands down the sides of his taut body, letting his fingers dig in. When he reached Declan’s hips he held harder, sliding back to caress his ass. Damn, he had a nice ass. Tight and perky. Fucking tight.

Declan reached for his wrist again, Jayce letting him move his hand to his dick. “Please.”

He shouldn’t. Fuck, he really, really shouldn’t. Drunk. D was drunk. Don’t touch your little brother when he’s drunk. Don’t touch him at all.

He was heavy in Jayce’s palm, hot, silken flesh. When he wrapped his fingers around Declan’s shaft, the boy groaned, his hands coming up to grasp his brother’s strong biceps. He stroked Declan slowly, feeling his thickness in his palm, his ridges, wanting to memorize every perfect inch of him. When he reached his swollen cockhead, he let his thumb caress over his slit, wetting Declan with his own slick precum while the boy cried out.

God, he was sexy. He had never known just what the fuck his little brother had been hiding under all that fucking black.

“Jerk me… Fuck, please.” Declan’s hand grabbed Jayce’s wrist again, trying to get him to hurry the fuck up. If only he knew how he looked, begging like that. “Jayce, come on.”

Jayce leaned down, pressing his lips to Declan’s ear. “D, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.” Declan groaned, biting his lower lip hard. “Okay?”

The brunette nodded, eyes meeting Jayce’s intense gaze, full of trust and need. “Do me how you want, big bro. Any way you want. Just do it.”

Jayce had to grip the bed to keep from swaying. Fuck, D really needed to stop saying shit like that. Declan didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what that fucking meant. Because Jayce wanted to be inside him, making him scream, making him sob his name. He wanted Declan to tell him he was going to be fucking good again, and nice, and talk to him like he used to. Jayce was fucked up, and Declan didn’t understand what he was saying.

Pulling his hand away, Jayce ignored his brother’s whimper of protest. He licked his palm while pushing Declan back on the bed, trapping him between his thighs. Jayce was fully dressed. It couldn’t be that bad cus he had clothes on, even if Declan was fucking nude as could be. The kid still had a few bracelets on; that had to count for something, right?

God, he was going to hell.

He was slick in his palm when Jayce wrapped around Declan’s gorgeous cock again, and his moan was fucking perfect. He watched intently as his brother’s flushed tip disappeared into his hand, only to have it reveal again as he moved down his shaft, all the way to his base, Declan’s hips rocking to meet every stroke.

“Bro, look at me.” Declan’s hand tangled in Jayce’s hair as he tried to turn his gaze to his.

Hell, the kid was going to kill him. “Stop calling me that, D.” Jayce met his eyes, his breath catching. Beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful.

Stroking faster, Jayce drank in his brother’s expression. Declan’s head fell back on the bed, his mouth wide as he panted and gasped between toe curling moans. He was dripping saliva, trickling down his chin and jaw. Beneath his broken gasps, Jayce could hear what he was doing to the boy, his hot flesh slick in his fist, slapping wet suction with every pump. Declan grabbed the sheets, fingers clawing, his back arching as he moaned again and again.

God, D. Get there. He wanted to see him come so bad. He was the sexiest fucking thing ever, and Jayce wanted to see his face when he came. For him. Just this moment. Just this one fucked up moment Declan could be his.

Crying out, Declan’s entire body shook with his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut, muscles rock hard as he held onto the sheets. His dick kept jerking in Jayce’s hand, spurting stream after stream of seed onto his stomach. Groaning, Declan went boneless, his eyes weakly cracking back open to meet his brother’s ever watching gaze.

Jayce couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let himself think. He just needed, and needed bad.

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Declan’s head. Watching silently as he caught his breath, Declan’s tongue drifted over his lips when Jayce climbed up his body and straddled his neck with his knees.

“Bro?”

“Quiet, D.” Jayce ran his hand over Declan’s cheek, tilting the boy’s chin back while he pushed his pajama pants down and freed his achingly hard dick. It wasn’t going to take much. Jayce was so fucking hard, and it was Declan, his beautiful kid brother beneath him, staring at his cock like he’d never seen one before, features twisted in want. His blue eyes kept shifting, moving to Jayce’s face and then to his dusky, dripping cock. Then Jayce started stroking and Declan picked his target, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he watched his older brother jerk inches away.

He wasn’t going to touch him. Just this. Jut have him watch. God, he was beautiful. His lips were fucking swollen and too red. Jayce wanted to fuck his mouth so bad, but that was beyond wrong. All of it was wrong, but that was beyond.

Fuck, would D let him?

Exhaling shakily, Jayce pressed the tip of his cock between his brother’s lips. Declan moaned, his tongue sliding out, teasing over his cockhead, probing tentatively into his slit. Fuck. Oh fuck, he really needed to stop.

“Open,” Jayce demanded hoarsely, the world rocking wildly when Declan parted his lips. He gripped the back of the brunette’s neck with his free hand and slowly pushed forward into Declan’s hot, wet mouth, those red lips contouring to his thick flesh.

God. God, he was actually fucking his mouth. Jayce’s balls were so tight, he knew he was going to come any second. He held off as long as possible. One time. Only fucking time this was ever happening, and he needed to remember.

Declan made a choking noise when Jayce’s tip hit his tonsils. But Jayce kept pushing, needing to feel his brother’s tight channel, needing to make sure Declan knew he was his.

“God… God, that’s it… Fuck, fuck take it, D… Open wide and take my cock, bro… Fuck… good boy… you’re so fucking good.” Jayce didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was grinding the back of Declan’s throat, his fingers painful in the brunette’s sweaty hair, taking his mouth hard while his little brother whimpered beneath his thighs. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t fucking think with Declan’s mouth so hot, throat so tight, those fucking lips of his so red.

Jayce held the boy still when he pulled out, forcing Declan to feel every dirty, sticky drop of cum as he covered his beautiful face with all his jizz. D’s moans were fucking music; low, raspy, filthy. God, that was it. All over his face. Covered in him. His bro. His.

Declan had tears in his eyes as he gasped to breathe. Jayce had been too rough. Could have hurt him… Could have done a lot of things he didn’t do. Fuck. Fuck.

Jayce rolled off his brother, pulled his pants up and left. Declan called for him and he nearly turned back. Bad idea. Really bad idea. The kid was drunk, covered in cum, and damn fucking easy prey for the many things he wanted to do. Jayce forced himself to walk to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. He needed to stop the crazy in his head, the maddening heat that had won way too much already.

Declan was asleep when Jayce got the nerve to return with a wet facecloth in hand. He was exactly how he’d left him, sprawled out nude on top of his bedspread. Jayce washed him off, admiring his porcelain flesh, brushing the bruises already starting to bloom on his hips where he had dug in too hard.

Fucked up. He had fucked up big, and he had no clue how the fuck he was going to fix it.

Maybe D wouldn’t remember? He was really drunk, saying stupid shit about dreaming. Maybe he’d just think it was a dream if he remembered anything at all.

Part of Jayce wanted Declan to remember. It wasn’t the good part of him. It was the fucked up part that wanted him to be his even though it would ruin the kid. Ruin their parents. Ruin fucking everything.

Shit, when had this happened? When had he gotten so crazy over D?

Finding Declan’s pajamas by his hamper, he slipped them on his sleeping brother. Then he arranged Declan under the covers, making sure he was warm. Jayce sat on his bed for the longest time, watching him sleep. Hating himself. Hating how he still wanted him, even then.

God, he was so fucked up.

Declan wouldn’t remember. He was drunk and wouldn’t remember.