LOGIN“Please I need it, I’ll be good, please just let me come, ah, fuck, please…” **** Some desires are too dangerous to resist. In this collection of steamy, dark MM stories, powerful men take what they want, and the men they crave surrender in the most beautiful ways. From a ruthless stepbrother returning to claim his untouched younger brother, to a sadistic professor breaking his defiant student, to mafia debts paid in the most intimate ways… every story dives deep into obsession, power, and forbidden cravings. Expect rough hands, filthy words, dangerous possessiveness, and men who will ruin you in the most addictive ways. If you like your romance dark, your intimacy rough, and your taboos unapologetic, this collection was made for you.
View MoreChapter 1: The Return
Elias Voss had perfected the art of staying small and invincible.
At nineteen, he moved through his own house like a shadow, always trying not to take up space. He was slim, almost delicate compared to most guys his age, with soft dark hair that fell into his eyes and a gentle face that still carried a boyish flush when he got nervous. His body was lean from nervous energy rather than gym work, narrow waist, smooth chest, a round, plush ass that strained against his sweatpants when he sat for too long studying. He hated how aware he was of it.
Tonight, like most nights while his parents were away, Elias sat at his desk in his bedroom, textbooks spread out, earbuds in, trying to focus on his freshman literature assignment. The house felt too big and empty.
Until it wasn’t.
The front door slammed downstairs with a heavy, commanding sound that made Elias’s heart jump.
He pulled out one earbud, listening. Footsteps climbed the stairs. Elias’s stomach twisted with dread.
His bedroom door pushed open without a knock. Damien Voss – his stepbrother– filled the doorway like he owned the entire world.
At twenty-eight, Damien was everything Elias wasn’t. Tall, broad-shouldered, powerfully built with muscle that came from years of violence and dominance. Sharp jaw, dark piercing eyes, and an aura of raw authority that made the air feel thicker. He wore a black button-down that stretched across his chest, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. Four years away had only made him more intimidating.
“Little brother,” Damien said, voice low and rough, almost like he was mocking Elias. His eyes dragged slowly over Elias’s body, lingering on the way his oversized hoodie hid his frame, the way his sweatpants clung to his thighs and the subtle curve of his ass in the chair.
Elias spun around, cheeks already burning. “Damien…? You’re back.”
Damien stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft, final click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed, studying Elias like a predator sizing up prey.
“I’m home,” he said simply. “This house is mine. Everything in it is mine now.” His gaze darkened. “Including you, Elias.”
The words settled heavy in the room. Elias swallowed hard, shifting in his seat, thighs pressing together unconsciously. Damien noticed. A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.
“You’ve grown up while I was gone,” Damien murmured, stepping closer. “Still so fucking pretty though. Still looking untouched.”
Elias’s breath caught. He stood up quickly, trying to create distance, but Damien was already there, towering over him, the height and size difference making Elias feel small and trapped. Damien’s hand came up, gripping Elias’s chin firmly, tilting his face up.
“Look at me when I talk to you,” Damien ordered softly. “You’ve been living under my roof, sleeping in my house, breathing my air… and you thought I’d stay away forever?”
Elias’s heart hammered. “Damien, please… this isn’t—”
“Not yet,” Damien cut him off. His thumb brushed Elias’s lower lip, pressing lightly. “But it will be.”
He let go and stepped back, giving Elias a moment to breathe. But the tension only thickened. Damien wandered the room, picking up small things, a notebook, a photo, claiming the space with his presence alone.
Elias tried to focus on anything else, but his body was betraying him. Heat pooled low in his belly. His cock twitched traitorously in his sweatpants.
Later that night, after Damien had gone to shower, Elias couldn’t take it anymore.
He lay on his bed, hoodie pushed up to his chest, sweatpants shoved down just enough. His hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock, stroking slowly at first, then faster. His eyes were closed, breath coming in soft, desperate pants. In his mind, it wasn’t some vague fantasy, it was Damien’s strong hands pinning him down, that deep voice growling filthy things into his ear while…
“Didn’t take you long,” Damien’s voice cut through the room like a whip.
Elias’s eyes flew open in pure panic. He tried to yank his pants up, but Damien was already across the room, grabbing both of Elias’s wrists in one large hand and pinning them above his head against the mattress.
“Don’t you fucking dare cover yourself,” Damien growled, knee shoving Elias’s thighs apart. “You were touching yourself thinking about me, weren’t you? After all that innocent act.”
Elias whimpered, face burning with shame. Tears pricked his eyes. “Damien… stop, please…”
But his cock was still rock hard, flushed dark and leaking against his stomach.
Damien’s free hand wrapped around Elias’s throat, holding him firmly in place. He leaned down, breath hot against Elias’s ear.
“You belong to me now, little brother. This shy little body, this pretty cock, this plush ass, all of it is mine.” His voice dropped lower. “And I’m done waiting.”
Damien crashed their mouths together in a rough, claiming kiss. There was nothing sweet about it. His tongue forced its way past Elias’s lips, devouring him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip hard enough to sting. Elias moaned into it despite himself, hips twitching up helplessly.
Damien’s other hand slid down, groping Elias’s ass roughly, squeezing the soft, round flesh, fingers digging in deep. He pulled Elias’s sweatpants lower, fully exposing him, then wrapped his big hand around both their cocks, his own thick, heavy length pressing against Elias’s smaller one.
“Feel that?” Damien groaned against his mouth, stroking them together in firm, possessive pumps. “This is what you do to me.”
Elias sobbed into the kiss, overwhelmed. His cock was rock hard in Damien’s grip, leaking steadily against his stomach. Shame burned through him.
“Damien… we can’t,” he gasped when Damien pulled back for air. His voice was shaky and desperate. “We’re brothers. Stepbrothers. This is wrong…”
Damien’s hand never stopped moving. He stroked them both slowly, watching Elias’s face with dark, hungry eyes.
“Is it?” he murmured. “Then why is your cock so fucking hard right now?”
Elias’s face flushed deep red. He tried to turn his head away, but Damien’s grip on his wrists kept him pinned.
Damien’s strokes slowed… then he loosened his fingers, like he was about to pull his hand away completely.
Elias’s hips jerked up on instinct.
“No— please,” he whispered, voice cracking with humiliation. “Don’t stop. Please, Damien… keep going.”
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across Damien’s face.
“Look at you,” he said, voice low and mocking. “Begging your stepbrother to keep stroking your cock. Saying it’s wrong while you’re leaking all over my hand.”
He tightened his grip again and started stroking them both faster, rougher, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room.
Elias moaned brokenly, hips rolling up into Damien’s fist despite himself. Tears of shame pricked at the corners of his eyes, but his cock throbbed harder than ever.
“This is only the beginning,” Damien whispered, squeezing them both almost painfully. “I’ve wanted to break you for years. And now I finally get to.”
He kept stroking them together, slow and filthy, watching every desperate reaction on Elias’s flushed face.
“Welcome home to me, Elias.”
Chapter SixThe bedroom was at the top of the stairs, spare, a wide bed with a dark headboard and the curtains already drawn against the late light. Tristan set River on the mattress and stripped the rest of his clothes off with efficient hands. Jeans, the sticky briefs, jacket, the shirt that still smelled like the lecture hall. Shoes hit the floor. River lay there flushed and open, cock leaking against his stomach, hole wet and swollen from the living room. He should have been embarrassed. He watched Tristan open the nightstand instead, chest still heaving, anger burned down into something hotter and less named.Soft cuffs. Black. Lined, not toys for show. A short strap already fixed to the center of the headboard, as if the afternoon had been planned further back than a bathroom. Tristan held the cuffs up and waited, which was the first time all day he had really waited.“Wrists. If you want out, you say red. If you want slower, yellow. Anything else, I keep going. Say it back.”Ri
Chapter FiveRiver made it back to the classroom with his jacket zipped to his throat. The come in his jeans had started to cool and stick to his skin, a humiliating reminder every time he took a step. He slid into his seat as Tristan was wrapping the last point on the board, and he did not look at the front of the room. His notes were still open to a blank page. His bag was where he had left it. A boy in the back glanced over, then away. Nobody seemed to care that he had been gone long enough to fall apart and come back wrong.Tristan did not look at him either. That was worse. He assigned the chapter, capped the marker, and dismissed them like the hour had been ordinary. When the room scraped and stood, River packed with his head down. His hands left damp prints on the notebook cover. His mouth tasted like skin and salt no matter how many times he swallowed. When he stood, his thighs rubbed the mess in his jeans and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a sound in.He had o
Chapter FourTristan's shoe stayed on River's hand, pinning his wrist to his own thigh. Not crushing. Heavy enough that River couldn't pull free without making it a fight, the sole warm through the denim, the pressure a clean line across his knuckles.“You don't touch yourself.”River's mouth was empty for a second. Spit strung from his lip to the head of Tristan's cock. He dragged in air and it came out shaky, wet at the edges.“I need— I'm so—”“You need to keep your hands where I put them.” Tristan tapped his cock against River's swollen mouth, smearing spit over his lip. “Open. We're not done.”River opened. His eyes were already wet, and not from the shoe. The ache in his cock had tipped into something that felt like crying even before the tears came. Tristan pushed back in and used his throat in short, rough strokes, the shoe a reminder every time River's fingers twitched toward his lap. It was too much. The stretch, the lack of air, the pulse trapped in his jeans, the flat voic
Chapter Three“What?”The word came out thin. River's back hit the edge of the sink counter. He had said anything. He had meant a grade, a favor, extra essays, something a professor was supposed to want from a student who had messed up. His cock pulsed against the zipper like it had heard a different offer and already agreed.Tristan didn't look away.“You heard me.”“You can't— you're my professor. You can't just—”“I can walk back in there and tell them why you left.” Tristan's voice stayed even. He reached for his belt. The leather slid through the loop with a soft sound that went straight down River's spine. “Or you get on your knees. Decide. I'm not asking twice.”River's knees made the decision before the rest of him finished arguing. The tile was cold through his jeans. He was so hard it ached, and he didn't know if it was the porn still running in his head or the man undoing his belt in front of him or the awful relief of being told exactly what the price was. Nate never asked
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