Chapter 5: before the first sin

The Heir’s Mask

Mark had waited long enough. No calls returned, no replies. He got ready and drove to Steve’s penthouse. The doors were unlocked—typical Steve, who hated being watched and kept almost no security around. Mark slipped inside with a satisfied smile.

My sweet boy must have been drinking before leaving. I know my love will be tired when he gets back. I’ll be here waiting for him.

He smiled softly to himself.

Steve didn’t stop drinking on the way home. He was fulfilled, happy, and kept drinking far too much. By the time he reached the penthouse, he was completely drunk and could barely get out of the car. Mark heard the engine and quickly set his laptop aside. He took off his shirt, sipped the wine he had poured for himself, and murmured, “It’s going to be a long night… mmm.”

When Steve stumbled in, Mark immediately opened the door for him. Steve’s phone was buzzing—Lila calling—but Steve couldn’t respond. Mark took the phone, slipped it into his own pocket, and guided Steve upstairs in a sexy, flirty way, using every bit of strength he had. He got him to the couch and removed his shoes.

Steve opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He couldn’t recognize who was with him. “You’re here… good boy,” he slurred.

Mark’s heart swelled with happiness. He helped Steve out of his shirt, then moved down to his pants. When he saw how hard Steve was, he whispered, “Lila… this must be for you. I’ll teach you a lesson.” But he had come here for something else.

Steve, too stressed and drunk to know exactly who was touching him, pointed toward the bedroom. “Help me up. Let me take you to the room.” His blurry vision and drunken smile drove Mark even crazier with desire. Steve’s phone kept buzzing, but he ignored it.

Steve loosened his belt and sat back in the chair. Mark moved straight to him, bending down eagerly. “I know you want me too, baby.” He kissed the bulge in Steve’s pants and was about to pull them down and take him into his mouth when Steve, with what little strength he had left, stopped him.

“Lie here,” Steve muttered. Thinking Mark was one of the random guys he sometimes brought home after parties, he asked, “How much for the night?”

He was exhausted. Instead of using his mouth, Steve stumbled to his feet, grabbed the automatic sucking machine from the side drawer, and handed it to Mark. “Fuck yourself with this and leave immediately.” He switched it on at high speed and collapsed back, too tired to do anything more.

Mark had no choice but to use it. The intense suction wrecked him quickly. “This guy is crazy… this speed is hell,” he gasped. “I would have loved it more if it was his mouth on me.” He came hard, body shaking, then lay there wrecked and unable to move.

Later, Mark saw Steve’s phone light up with another notification from Lila. He already hated her for taking Steve away from him.

At the Hamptons yacht party, Ken had arrived twenty minutes earlier. Steve had been watching him the entire time. Ken was laughing with a group of tech investors. Sophia’s absence was still a fresh wound, but he looked free and alive.

It made Steve want to destroy him.

He wanted to drag Ken below deck, shove him into his private cabin, and fuck the friendliness out of him until the only name Ken could remember was his.

Steve checked his phone—tons of unread messages. Fueled by drunken fury and lust, he started typing.

Steve: You look so fucking good tonight.

He kept going, the dam finally breaking.

Steve: Then I’ll bend you over and fuck you raw. No condom. Just my thick cock stretching your virgin ass in and out while you scream my name.

Steve: You swear you’re straight, but I bet your dick is hard just reading this. I’m going to ruin you, Ken. Break that tight virgin ass and make you my personal cumdump.

Steve: Cabin 1. Private. Now. Or I’ll come find you and drag you there myself.

Steve hit send on the last one, heart pounding, cock fully hard and leaking in his trousers. He downed the rest of his whiskey and headed below deck, leaving the party behind.

Ken felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Once. Twice. Then a relentless barrage.

He stepped away from the group, pulse racing as he read the messages. Each one was filthier than the last. His face burned. His cock swelled painfully against his jeans, traitorously leaking at Steve’s nasty words.

“Fuck this,” he snarled under his breath.

He stormed through the yacht, ignoring curious glances, until he found the private cabin corridor. Cabin 1. He didn’t knock. He shoved the door open.

Steve was waiting.

The moment Ken stepped inside, Steve locked the door behind him with a decisive click. The cabin was luxurious—dim lighting, a king-sized bed, and an ocean view through wide windows—but the air was thick with tension and raw hunger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ken shouted, phone still clutched in his hand. “You can’t send me shit like that in public!”

Steve stalked forward, eyes dark and glassy with alcohol and obsession. “I can. And I did. Because I’m done pretending, Ken.” He backed Ken against the closed door, caging him with his bigger body. “You feel it too. I know you do.”

Ken shoved at Steve’s chest, but Steve didn’t budge. “I’m straight, you delusional asshole! This—whatever this is—ends now!”

Steve’s hand shot down, palming Ken’s very obvious erection through his jeans. He squeezed possessively. “You swear you’re straight…” Steve’s voice was low, dangerous, and dripping with lust, “…yet your cock is already waiting and begging for me.”

Ken’s breath hitched. Steve’s grip was perfect—firm, controlling. Ken hated how good it felt.

“Get your hand off me,” Ken growled, but his hips jerked forward involuntarily.

Steve leaned in, lips brushing Ken’s ear. “Make me.”

The argument exploded into raw desire.

Ken grabbed Steve’s shirt and yanked him closer. Their mouths crashed together in a violent kiss. Steve tasted like whiskey and pure sin. He kissed like he fucked—dominant, relentless, claiming.

Steve’s hands were everywhere—gripping Ken’s ass, pulling their hips together so their hard cocks rubbed against each other through fabric. Ken moaned into the kiss.

“Fuck, I knew it,” Steve rasped.

He spun them, shoving Ken toward the bed. Ken’s back hit the mattress and Steve was on him instantly, grinding down hard, mouth devouring his neck and sucking bruises into the skin.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Steve growled, hands fighting with Ken’s belt. “Want to suck you again. Want to eat your ass until you scream. Want to bury my cock inside you and breed you deep.”

Ken arched beneath him, lost for a moment in the heat. His hands fisted in Steve’s hair, pulling him closer. Their clothed cocks rutted together desperately—nasty, frantic, years of tension exploding.

Then reality slammed back in.

Ken shoved Steve hard, rolling them so he was on top for a second. “No! This is fucked up. You’re fucked up!” His voice cracked with panic and lingering lust. “Our friendship is dead. You hear me? Dead!”

He scrambled off the bed, chest heaving, lips swollen, neck marked with Steve’s mouth. His cock was still painfully hard, tenting his jeans obscenely.

Steve sat up slowly, shirt half-open, hair wild, looking like a demon who had just tasted heaven. His eyes burned with dark promise. “You can run, Ken. But we both know this isn’t over. Your body already belongs to me.”

Ken backed toward the door, hand shaking as he unlocked it. “Stay the fuck away from me, Steve. I mean it.”

He fled the cabin, slamming the door behind him, the party noise swallowing his ragged breathing.

Steve stayed on the bed, cock throbbing, lips curved in a savage smile despite the rejection. I want it the rough way. I got you, b

oy. No more gentleness, bro.

This was only the beginning.

Next time, Steve would make sure Ken stayed.