Semua Bab Owned By My Stepdad(MxM): Bab 1 - Bab 8

Elias stirred in the haze of his sleep, his body heavy and unresponsive, like it was pinned under an invisible force. The room around him felt familiar, then he realised this was his room—his vision blurred, trying to adjust to the lighting in the room. This must be a dream, he thought, a faint whisper in the back of his mind. It had to be.A sudden weight pressed down on his chest, making his breath hitch. He tried to move, to sit up, but his limbs refused, as if bound by something. Panic flickered through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by a strange insistent heat blooming low in his belly. His eyes fluttered open, and there he was Vane, his stepfather, standing at the foot of the bed, utterly naked.Elias’s heart slammed against his ribs, accelerating into a frantic rhythm that echoed in his ears. Vane’s presence filled the room. At thirty-nine, Vane Ashford was a masterpiece of masculine perfection—broad shoulders, honed from years of routines in the private gym downstairs. H

Three days.That’s how long Cyrus had owned him.Three days of late-night texts, of being pulled into empty guest rooms or the back seat of Cyrus’s car, of hands that gripped too hard and words that cut deeper than the touch. Elias hated every second, hated the way his body responded even when his mind screamed no, hated the way he closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was someone else.He tried to imagine Vane’s scent on Cyrus’s skin, the faint cedar and warmth that clung to his stepfather’s clothes. He tried to picture Vane’s larger, steadier hands instead of Cyrus's impatient ones. But the lie never held. Cyrus was too rough, too careless, too impatient. The fantasy only made Elias feel dirtier, smaller, and more broken. Each time it ended, he’d sit under the shower until the water ran cold, scrubbing at his skin like he could wash the memory away. It never worked. The ache for Vane only grew, twisted tighter around his heart.That afternoon, his phone buzzed on the desk.Cyrus:

Elias woke slowly, warmth everywhere.For a moment he didn’t know where he was—only that he felt safe, wrapped in strong arms, a steady heartbeat under his cheek. The fire had burned down to embers; faint orange light flickered across the room. He was still on the wide rug in front of the hearth, covered by a soft throw blanket. Vane’s body was curled around his from behind, one heavy arm draped over Elias’s waist, hand splayed possessively across his stomach.Elias didn’t move. He was afraid to. Afraid the night had been a dream, afraid Vane would wake up and remember who they were and pull away.But Vane stirred first. His arm tightened briefly, pulling Elias closer, lips brushing the back of his neck in a sleepy, unconscious kiss. “Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.Elias’s heart flipped. “Morning,” he whispered back.They stayed like that for a long minute, breathing together. Then Vane’s body tensed—not much, but enough for Elias to feel it. The arm loosened. Vane rol

The dining room was bathed in the soft glow of the chandelier, crystal glasses catching the light as the family settled into what should have been an ordinary dinner. The air smelled of roasted lamb and rosemary, the clink of silverware a familiar rhythm. Rowena sat at one end, poised and impeccable, her voice already filling the space with plans and expectations. Vane presided at the head, calm and unreadable. Cyrus lounged opposite Elias, that lazy, predatory smile playing at his lips.Elias had barely touched his plate. The loose gray sweatpants he’d thrown on after his shower—comfortable, innocent—now felt like a terrible mistake. He kept his hands in his lap, trying to appear attentive as Rowena launched into her lecture.“This marriage to Isabella is not negotiable, Elias,” she said sharply, cutting into her meat with precision. “The alliances it brings, the status—it’s something you couldn’t earn in a lifetime on your own. You will smile, you will dance, you will play the grate