The worst part was, despite his internal freak-out, he paradoxically wanted to bury his face against Anthony’s wide shoulder and seek comfort from him. This is your alpha, his hindbrain said. He will take care of everything if you confide in him. Let him take care of it. Let him take care of you.
Fighting that instinct was like fighting against the gravitational pull of a star. Maybe it would have been possible if he weren’t also fighting the sickening desire pulsing between his legs. He had to give in to one of those urges, so Liam chose the lesser evil. The less perverse one. He sagged forward, burying his face against Anthony’s neck—against his scent gland—whimpering quietly as Anthony’s heady pheromones enveloped him. Alpha-safe-good.
“Liam,” Anthony ground out, his large hands touching Liam’s shoulders and applying slight pressure. It seemed like an attempt to push him away, but it was half-hearted at best. An alpha was much stronger than an omega. He could have pushed him away easily if he really wanted.
He didn’t want to.
The thought was like a powerful drug.
Squeezing his stinging eyes shut, Liam wrapped his arms around his brother tightly, and after a moment, Anthony hugged him back. It was both bliss and agony. Liam had never in his life felt so terrible and so good at the same time. The guilt and the shame were still there, but he felt so very safe and protected. Like nothing bad could possibly happen. Anthony’s strong, firm body felt like a shield against the rest of the world. Alpha.
“Sweetheart,” Anthony said softly, kissing the top of his head.
Liam rubbed his nose against Anthony’s scent gland, inhaling his pheromones greedily. He felt drunk on them. Intoxicated. But he wanted more. He wanted his brother’s—
Brother. Brother.
Nausea rose to his throat, the shame poisoning the blissed-out state he was in. This was his brother. He shouldn’t want to feel him up. He shouldn’t want to run his hands over his muscular back. He shouldn’t want to grind his body against his. He shouldn’t be still dribbling slick like the worst kind of slag.
Fuck, he was going to be sick.
But even his self-loathing and nausea weren’t enough to make him pull away. There was no point. Anthony would have had to not possess a nose to miss the scent of his arousal. Anthony knew. He knew. He knew Liam was a deviant who got wet for his own brother.
And yet he wasn’t pushing him away.
In fact, his hands were moving lower, rubbing Liam’s back in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting but that only made his perverted body crave his touch lower, between his legs: on his cock, on his aching hole.
Stop, a voice at the back of his mind tried, but it was weak.
More, his body demanded. He wanted Anthony’s hand between his legs, stroking him where he ached the most, and then he wanted to be pushed down under Anthony’s heavy body and stuffed full of his—
Liam jumped away as if burned, disgust and arousal creating a sickening wave of vertigo.
He couldn’t even remember what he said before he ran out of the room.
He staggered into his bedroom as if drunk and locked the door with trembling hands.
Falling against the door, he yanked his pants down and shoved two fingers inside his hole.
He moaned, his self-loathing not strong enough to drown out the lust. He fucked himself with his fingers, unable to stop, uncaring about the awkward angle and completely ignoring his hard cock. He didn’t want to touch his cock right now. He wanted to be filled. He wanted something inside him. He wanted…
He wanted Anthony’s cock in him.
The wave of shame and disgust didn’t make his orgasm any less mind-blowing. He came, clenching around his fingers and trying not to imagine Anthony’s face.
Chapter 6
Liam felt like death warmed over the next morning. He’d barely slept, imagining his mother’s repulsed, horrified face if she were alive. Or Jules’s. Or Eric’s. Heck, all the people that had proclaimed him the diamond of the season a few months ago would spurn him if they ever found out that he wanted his own brother.
To make things more confusing, there was a question that constantly plagued his mind: why had Anthony pretended that he didn’t sense anything? Why hadn’t he been visibly repulsed? It made no sense.
Liam paced his room, trying to think of any plausible explanation. He couldn’t. Any brother would be disgusted and horrified if he found out that his sibling had less than platonic urges around him. Any brother would be—
Any brother.
Liam stopped mid-step, his heart starting to beat wildly as Uncle Wayne’s voice sounded in his head.
Don’t you think he looks very different from how he looked at sixteen?
No.
It was ridiculous.
He was jumping to conclusions. He was just looking for excuses, to justify his monstrous perversion.