Our family is… a bit of a mess. I’m in love with my uncle. My uncle is in love with my older brother. My older brother is in love with me. My second brother, Quinn? He’s on another level. He’s in love with… well, you’ll see. 1. The air in the cramped bathroom was a humid, clinging fog. Vincent had me pinned against the tiled wall, the spray from the showerhead soaking his black shirt, plastering it to his chest and outlining a ridiculously perfect set of muscles. "Shane," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "You've got some fucking nerve, don't you? Serving yourself up on a platter for Richard Blackwood?" Richard Blackwood is my uncle. Something heartbreaking happened yesterday. I got blackout drunk and crawled into my uncle's bed. In response, he opened another bottle of expensive whiskey, got me even more blackout drunk, and then delivered me back to my own bed, with all my parts attached and my virtue intact. When I woke up, I couldn't face reality. I just wanted a long, hot shower to clear my head, but Vincent cornered me before I could even turn on the water. I stared into his bloodshot eyes. His hand, elegant and veined, slammed against the wall next to my ear. "Vince…" I stammered, my voice trembling. "Could I maybe… put some clothes on first?" I was completely naked, enveloped in his scent, the steam flushing my skin pink. I felt dangerously exposed. Vincent's gaze flickered over me. He shut his eyes tight, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Go," he rasped. 2. Our family situation is complicated. My parents had children late in life. My brother Quinn was supposed to be the heir, three years my senior. But he came out when he was twenty. Our parents nearly beat him to death, then shifted all their focus to grooming me, their backup son. I didn't disappoint them. I came out at eighteen. My big confession was a love letter to my "uncle" Richard, a close friend of my father's whom I'd fallen for at first sight. My parents, utterly defeated, adopted a new heir. Vincent. He was a student from a low-income family whom they had been sponsoring. Vincent was the perfect son: patient, disciplined, brilliant. He endured everything until our parents passed away. Only then did he finally come out. The day he did was… explosive. At the time, I was nursing a broken heart from being rejected by Richard for the umpteenth time. I'd hired a few cute models to drink with me and ease the pain. I was still in my boxers, thank God, when Vincent, who'd been in a business meeting in the next suite, burst in and caught me red-handed. He dismissed the models with a wave of his hand, leaving just me in the opulent suite. Me. My boxers. And my very eager friend downstairs, who was not cooperating with my state of despair. I saw Vincent’s Adam’s apple bob. … All I’ll say is, my brother is a very skilled man. Physically, it was incredible. Emotionally, I was a wreck. I’m sorry, but my heart still belonged to Richard. You always want what you can't have. After Vincent came out, the happiest person in the family was Quinn. My depraved, chaos-loving second brother. He scrubbed himself clean and pranced right into Vincent’s bedroom, offering himself up like a sacrifice. Vincent beat the shit out of him. I mocked Quinn for his audacity. He, furious and humiliated, swore he’d conquer the one man I couldn't have: our dear uncle Richard. Richard also beat the shit out of him. I howled with laughter at the sight of his black eye. He just looked at me and licked a split corner of his lip. … 3. The shower hissed off. I took my sweet time getting dressed, then called out lazily, "Okay, Vince. I'm decent." Vincent stepped out of the bathroom, his gaze immediately snagging on my collar. "Button your shirt." "Right." So demanding. My mind was elsewhere, and my head was still pounding from the hangover. My fingers felt clumsy and disobedient; I fumbled with the top two buttons for what felt like an eternity. A hand reached out. Vincent took over, his knuckles brushing my chin. I tilted my head back, my eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the damp fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest. I poked him lightly. "Vince, your shirt is still wet." His eyes darkened. "I know." Once the buttons were fastened, he looked directly at me. "You're really that crazy about him?" I met his gaze. "Vince, do you have any idea what love at first sight feels like?" His expression flickered. For a moment, he was silent. I turned to leave the room. "You should change and head to the office. I'm going to find some food." As I stepped through the doorway, I heard a whisper, so quiet I almost missed it. "Of course I do." … 4. For expert problems, you need an expert's advice. That night, I met my best friend, Leo, for drinks at a high-end lounge. Leo. The most notorious heartbreaker in the city's gay scene. In an era where bottoms were a dime a dozen, he was the one man who’d left a trail of a dozen gorgeous, devoted men in his wake, all of them still obsessed with him long after he'd dumped them. A singer crooned a soulful ballad on stage as we settled into a secluded booth with a few young idols Leo had invited along. Leo stroked his chin. "So, this whole situation with your uncle…?" I swallowed nervously. "Is there any hope? Be honest." He blinked his wide, expressive eyes at me. "Shane, honey. You literally threw yourself into his bed, and he didn't touch you." I squeezed my eyes shut. "Okay, okay, you can stop now." Leo patted my head. "Why hang yourself up on one guy? You could have anyone you want." He leaned in conspiratorially. "We bottoms can't afford to be so wholesome." One of the idols next to me smoothly offered me a drink. He was cute. I took a sip from the glass while he held it, then sighed. "But Richard is the one I want." Leo shook his head. "You're a lost cause. Honestly, I think your brother Vincent is a much better catch. And you're not even related by blood." "He's… yeah, he's great." Great in certain… departments. A flush of heat crept up my neck as I remembered that night. Leo’s eyes danced with mischief. "Well, if you're not interested, mind if I make a move?" "He's not your type," I blurted out. Leo raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Oh? And what is his type?" I paused. "He, uh… he likes the pure, innocent type. Like me." Leo burst out laughing. "You? Pure and innocent?" He flicked the exposed waistband of my designer briefs. "Does 'pure and innocent' involve showing off your underwear?" I scooted away, annoyed. "You think I want to wear these? All my normal underwear has been mysteriously disappearing lately." I could guess with my eyes closed who the culprit was. Leo draped himself over the man next to him, smirking. "Sure, sweetie. Keep telling yourself that." I ignored him and reached for a drink on the table. As I turned, I realized I was practically in the idol's lap. I froze, about to pull back, but he wrapped an arm around my waist and placed a fresh glass in my outstretched hand. The music on stage swelled, growing louder and more intense. The lights dimmed, casting the room in an intimate, hazy glow. "Another round, pretty boy?" he murmured. … I drank. A few rounds later, I was pleasantly buzzed when my phone vibrated. Vincent: Where are you? Me: Home. [GoodBoy.jpg] Just then, the singer from the stage joined our table, and Leo roped everyone into a drinking game. I tossed my phone aside and forgot about it. The games went on. The drinks kept coming. I rubbed my temples and finally glanced at my phone. Two hours ago. Vincent: I'll give you one more chance. Where are you? One hour ago. Vincent: Be home within the hour. Thirty minutes ago. [Missed Call] [Missed Call] Now. [Vincent is requesting a video call.] I was about to answer when a low voice purred in my ear. "Still thirsty, pretty boy?" I glanced over. Leo and the singer were locked in a passionate kiss. A sudden, irrational anger flared inside me. Why was I the one with the damn curfew? I furiously accepted the call. "Vincent, can you just chill for one second? I'm busy having fun. Stop calling!" I hung up, raised my glass to the guy beside me, and clinked it against his. "Cheers." I don't know how much later it was when Leo, now arm-in-arm with the singer, came over. "Shane, sweetie, I'm heading out." I nodded. The man beside me leaned in. "So, pretty boy, should we also…?" I waved a dismissive hand. "I'm going home." Wait. Did I just… do something incredibly stupid? I fumbled for my phone. There was a new message from Vincent. It was a photo, taken from his perspective. He was sitting on the sofa, his long legs crossed, dressed in black suit trousers. In his hand, he held a long, thin discipline ruler. Below it was a voice note. "Good. Take your time. I'll be waiting for you at home… Young. Master." The alcohol vanished from my system. A cold dread washed over me. I was so, so screwed. In a panic, I called Richard. "Uncle! Code red! Can I come hide out at your place?" 5. A soft chuckle came from the other end of the line. "Shane, my boy. That's a new one." "No, I'm serious!" I kept him on the line while I forwarded him my entire chat history with Vincent. There was a sharp intake of breath on his end. "Shane," he said, his voice suddenly tight. "Since you've asked so sincerely for my help, it would be wrong of me not to intervene. Send me your location. I'll come pick you up and take you home." Wait, what? I was speechless for a second. "No, Uncle, I meant I need a place to hide." "Nonsense. Hiding at my place won't solve anything. I'll go have a word with your brother. Maybe I can talk some sense into him. Boys will be boys, after all." I thought about it. "…Okay, fine." I sent him my location. Less than ten minutes later, a flamboyant Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. The moment I got in and saw Richard in the driver's seat, my heart started doing backflips. He was wearing a pale pink floral shirt, unbuttoned to the third button, offering a tantalizing glimpse of a firm chest. A pair of single-rimmed gold glasses rested on his perfect nose, framing his impossibly charming eyes. I swallowed hard. "Un… Uncle…" He glanced over at me. "Wipe your chin, kid." …Right. As much as I wanted to drool, my fear of Vincent currently outweighed my lust. I sat quietly the entire ride home. Standing at our front door, I hesitated. "Uncle, maybe I should just go crash at a hotel. I can come back when Vince has cooled off." Richard clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't be afraid. If he tries to hit you, I'll take the blow for you." I was touched. I nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the door as if walking to my own execution. "You're back." Vincent's voice was flat. He was sitting on the sofa, just like in the photo. He turned his head, and his expression instantly darkened when he saw Richard behind me. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with ice. Richard strolled in, his tone light and breezy. "Poor Shane here was begging for my help. As his uncle, how could I refuse?" Vincent stood up and strode to the door, blocking Richard's path. "We're not entertaining guests tonight." Richard stopped, his eyes flicking to the ruler in Vincent's hand. "Isn't this a bit much? The kid just wanted to have some fun. It's normal for his age." "This is a family matter. It has nothing to do with you." Richard didn't seem fazed by the rebuff. "What, am I an outsider now?" he sighed dramatically. "That hurts, Vince. I practically watched you boys grow up…" "Shane," Vincent interrupted, his voice dangerously low. "Show our guest out." A shiver went down my spine. He'd used my full name. I looked from Richard's easygoing smirk to Vincent's thunderous expression. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Vincent's knuckles were white around the ruler. This time, he was really pissed. After a rapid mental calculation, I spoke. "Uh, Uncle? Maybe you should head out for now…" Richard glanced between us and threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, fine. The old man dies, and this is how you all treat me. I'm going to go burn some incense for him and ask him to haunt you all into showing some respect." Muttering to himself, he walked out. At the door, he turned and gave Vincent a wink. "Vince, be gentle. Don't be like your old man." Vincent had had enough. He slammed the door shut with a resounding BOOM. The silence that followed was deafening. His eyes landed on my face, and I quickly looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He lifted a hand, and I flinched, shutting my eyes tight. The expected pain never came. Instead, a warm touch ghosted across my cheek. He was gently wiping away a lipstick smear left over from the drinking game. "Go drink the sobriety soup." "Oh. Okay." My adrenaline rush had sobered me up, but I obediently sat on the couch and drank the soup from the bowl on the coffee table. It was still warm. Vincent stood over me, watching patiently until I'd finished the last drop. "Why did you close your eyes? Did you think I was going to hit you?" I glanced at him, then at the ruler still clutched in his hand. Did this not look like the posture of a man about to inflict bodily harm? But then again, he never had. Not once. I shook my head. "No. But you seem really angry." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "You've got that right." I lowered my head, feeling guilty. Suddenly, I felt something cool press against my chin. Vincent was using the ruler to tilt my head up, forcing me to look at him. "First: you lied. Second: you broke curfew. And third," his voice dropped, "you brought someone home you shouldn't have." "You tell me. What's the punishment?" My face was burning. The position was humiliating, and he was right on every count. I had crossed a line tonight. I stubbornly averted my gaze. "Why don't you go discipline Quinn? He's still not home!" "My only requirement for Quinn is that he remains alive." I was speechless. "Then what about me? Why do you care so much about what I do?" Vincent let out a cold huff and lowered the ruler. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of me, trapping me in his space, his scent. His deep voice vibrated next to my ear, sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Do you really not know why?" I knew. I’d known since that night. Vincent was in love with me. The memory of that wild night sent another wave of heat through me. His familiar scent was so close, my eyes were drawn to the slightly loosened knot of his tie, and my breathing hitched. I think I was still drunk. I shook my head, trying to clear the images from my mind. I raised my hands, pushing weakly against his chest. "Okay, okay, I get it! I won't be out so late again." He straightened up, letting me go. "You're coming to the office with me tomorrow." I was confused. "What for? I don't know anything about business." "The renovations are finished. I had a studio built for you next to my office. You like to paint, don't you? It's time you did something productive instead of hanging around with… those people." I was stunned into silence for a moment. Then I nodded. "Oh… okay."
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