Chapter 7 #2
He was supposed to be the responsible one.
The mature older brother. The family pillar.
Instead, here he was, burning with jealousy over his stepbrother’s love life, plotting ways to identify and eliminate the competition.
The urge to protect and possess Lan wasn’t just emotional—it was physical, manifesting as actual pain in his chest when he thought of Lan with someone else, as if his body was rejecting the very possibility.
If there was a special circle of hell for inappropriate thoughts about family members, he’d just bought himself a first-class ticket.
The worst part? This wasn’t even about pure lust—though God knew there was plenty of that.
No, what really terrified him was how his heart clenched whenever Lan smiled.
How he wanted to gather the boy in his arms and never let go.
How he’d rather cut off his own arm than see Lan hurt.
How the mere thought of Lan loving someone else made him want to burn the world down.
It felt like devotion and worship as much as desire—a reverence that went beyond the physical.
It was love. Not brotherly love, not familial affection, but something all-consuming and desperate.
Something that felt like it had been waiting patiently beneath his skin for years, biding its time until Lan was old enough, until the moment was right.
Like a key finally finding its lock after centuries of searching.
His cock twitched, apparently deciding that his moral crisis was the perfect time to remind him of its presence. Because of course it would. Traitor.
“Shit,” he breathed, glancing down at his betraying body. The evidence of his desire stood proud and unashamed, like it hadn’t gotten the memo about appropriate stepbrother behavior.
He was no better than those creeps who eye-fucked Lan at Eight Dynasties.
The thought made him sick, but it didn’t make his erection flag.
If anything, the memory of how he’d glared those perverts into submission only made things worse.
How he’d wanted to break their wandering eyes for daring to look at what was his.
His. When had he started thinking of Lan as his?
The protective instinct had always been there, from the moment they’d met.
Eleven-year-old Lan with his wide eyes and shy smile, reaching out to take Jaxson’s hand at the airport.
The connection had been instant and overwhelming even then—a fierce need to shield and care for this delicate boy who looked at him with such trust.
For years, it had been simple. Brotherly.
Pure. Until something had shifted, changed, transformed when Lan turned eighteen.
It was as if a veil had been lifted, allowing Jaxson to see what had perhaps always been there, waiting.
That was when he’d first noticed the scent—honey, cherry blossoms, and lilies—that seemed to emanate from Lan’s skin.
That was when the protective instinct had twisted into something deeper, more primal, more consuming.
Something that felt like it had been written in his soul before he was even born.
And now Lan was in love with someone else.
The knowledge sat in his gut like molten lead, burning through his insides.
Each time he thought about it, the pain in his chest intensified, a physical agony that radiated outward.
He’d have to watch from the sidelines, play the supportive big brother while someone else got to touch what he couldn’t.
Someone else would get to see Lan’s face flushed with pleasure, hear those little gasps he sometimes made when startled.
No. The thought was intolerable. A physical pain that radiated from his chest outward, making it hard to breathe. It felt like something was being torn away from him, something vital and irreplaceable. Like his very soul was rejecting the possibility.
His hand wrapped around his cock before he could finish that thought, the cool water doing nothing to temper the heat coursing through him.
He closed his eyes, and immediately the image of Lan from the kitchen filled his mind—towel hanging dangerously low, water droplets mapping a path Jaxson’s tongue ached to follow.
That delicate collarbone practically begging to be marked. Claimed.
“Lan…” The name escaped his lips like a prayer, reverent and desperate all at once.
In his mind, those wide innocent eyes looked up at him with heat instead of familial affection.
Those soft lips parted in pleasure rather than casual conversation.
That sweet scent grew stronger, enveloping him in comfort and desire simultaneously.
God, he was going to hell for this.
His strokes quickened, imagination painting pictures he’d never admit to in the light of day. Lan sprawled across his bed, skin flushed pink like after his bath. Lan calling his name in that soft voice of his. Lan’s slender fingers replacing his own on his cock.
The fantasy shifted to Lan in the kitchen just minutes ago, but in his mind, the scene played out differently. Instead of standing frozen like an idiot, he crossed the room in three long strides, backed Lan against the counter, and claimed those soft lips that had been haunting him for years.
Fantasy-Lan melted against him, making that little whimpering sound Jaxson had heard earlier in the car when he’d pulled him into a hug.
But this time, there was no brotherly pretense, no walls between them.
Just Lan’s slender body pressed against his, trembling with the same need that was currently threatening to burn Jaxson alive from the inside out.
“Fuck…” The pressure built, his guilt doing nothing to stem the tide of pleasure.
If anything, it only made everything more intense, more forbidden, more overwhelming.
His free hand braced against the tile as his hips bucked into his fist, chasing the release that would give him a moment’s peace from this torment.
In his mind, Lan was saying his name, those dark eyes wide with desire rather than innocence. “Jaxson,” Fantasy-Lan whispered, the way he had in the car earlier—but without the hesitation, without the confusion. Just pure want.
“I’m here to help you, Lan,” he’d said in the car. The memory twisted with his fantasy—in his mind, he was “helping” Lan in ways that would definitely get him disowned if their other brothers ever found out.
His strokes became almost punishing, the water sluicing down his body doing nothing to cool the fire in his veins.
The image of Lan in that towel, those water droplets trailing down his chest, the way he’d licked his lips nervously when Jaxson approached—it all collided with a thousand other moments.
Lan sleepy in the morning, hair tousled and eyes soft.
Lan laughing at something Nico said, head thrown back to expose the delicate line of his throat.
Lan’s face when he’d let slip that he wanted to move out, panic and something else flickering across those expressive features.
The thought of Lan leaving—of putting physical distance between them—sent a wave of something dark and possessive through Jaxson, a visceral pain that made him gasp.
His chest tightened in genuine physical agony at the mere thought of separation.
No. He wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t allow it.
The intensity of his reaction should have frightened him, but instead, it felt right.
As if he was meant to keep Lan close, to protect him, to possess him.
It was more than desire. More than obsession. It felt like destiny.
He came with Lan’s name caught between his teeth, his release washing away with the shower spray—if only his feelings could be so easily rinsed clean.
The intensity of his orgasm left him trembling, one arm braced against the tile to keep himself upright as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him.
He leaned against the cool tiles, breathing hard. The post-orgasmic haze couldn’t quite drown out the voice in his head telling him what a sick fuck he was. Getting off to thoughts of his innocent stepbrother? There had to be some sort of special punishment for that.