Stepbrother’s Return | CH. 6
What happened with daddy in the basement?
⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ CONTENT WARNING:
This story contains explicit gay sexual content, infidelity, taboo family dynamics, and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Previously: CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 | CH. 4 | CH. 5 | CH. 6 …
Chapter Six
The commute home from PeachiTech felt like a fever dream. My phone buzzed in my pocket as I walked to the bus stop, and when I pulled it out, the screen lit up with a notification from the payroll app.
My first paycheck under the new contract with Herald.
I tapped it open, and my breath caught in my throat. The number staring back at me was triple what I’d been making before.
A grin tugged at my lips.
This kind of money could change things—bills paid on time, a real savings account, maybe even a vacation for me and Leroy. For a split second, the weight of what I’d done to get here didn’t matter. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and boarded the bus, letting the hum of the engine drown out the nagging voice in my head.
When I unlocked the front door to our apartment, the silence told me Leroy wasn’t home yet from dinner with his friend Sarah. Chickpea yipped at my feet, but I didn’t stop to play. My body ached in places I hadn’t felt in years, a delicious kind of sore. I headed straight for the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and leaving them in a heap on the tile floor.
The shower knob squeaked as I turned it on. It took a few minutes to warm up, but once I was satisfied with the temperature, I stepped in and hot water blasted over my skin. I let the steam and spray wash away the sweat and dried cum.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, closing my eyes. The memory of Herald’s hands, his weight pinning me to that desk, flashed behind my lids.
My body reacted instantly, a twitch between my legs I couldn’t ignore.
But then Leroy’s face crept in—his goofy smile over breakfast, the way he’d kiss my temple before work …
What if he knew? What if he’d noticed the way I flinch when he gets too close lately? My stomach twisted. I squirted as much bodywash as possible all over my body and scrubbed hard with a washcloth, as if I could clean the guilt off my skin.
When I finally stepped out, the mirror was fogged up. I wiped a streak across it with my hand and stared at myself. Water dripped from my hair, rolling down my chest, over the lean muscles I’d worked hard for at the gym. I looked ... good. A smirk played on my lips as I flexed a little, admiring the way my shoulders tensed.
My phone buzzed on the counter, snapping me out of my daydreaming. I grabbed it, expecting a text from Leroy about dinner. Instead, it was a message from an anonymous number. No name, just a string of digits. My thumb hovered over it for a second before I opened it. The words hit me like a punch to the gut:
Victor isn’t Herald’s real father. Check the attached file.
There was a PDF link. My heart slammed against my ribs. I didn’t click it—not yet. My hands were shaking too hard. Victor, the man who’d been an immoral shadow over my past, wasn’t Herald’s biological dad? What the fuck did that even mean?
My mind spun back, way back, to ten years ago …
A memory I’d buried deep clawed its way to the surface, vivid as if it were yesterday.
*** *** ***
Salt Lake City. Ten Years Ago …
We were in the basement of my Mom’s house. Herald and I were tangled up on the ground with only some old blankets beneath us, clothes long gone, hands groping everywhere. I was twenty, hard as a rock, and fucking desperate. Herald—twenty-three, cocky as hell, always knowing how to get under my skin—had me pinned under him, his hot breath on my neck, teeth scraping my skin. I was half-laughing, half-moaning, trying to keep it together.
“Quiet, Charlie,” he growled into my ear. “Don’t want anyone hearing us.”
“Too late for that,” a deep voice sliced through the haze from the stairs.
My gut dropped like a heavy weight in water.
Victor.
My stepdad.
I froze, Herald’s weight still crushing me, as heavy boots thudded down the last few steps.
He loomed there, arms crossed, flannel shirt half-unbuttoned, showing off the graying hair dusting his broad chest. His eyes raked over us, sharp and unreadable. I braced for it—the yelling, the fucking sermon about sin and damnation.
Instead … he smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “Well, damn. Didn’t think you boys had it in you.”
Herald sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, not a shred of fear on his face. “Didn’t think you’d care, Victor.”
“Care?” Victor chuckled, low and rough, stepping closer.
His shadow swallowed the dim light from the bare bulb swinging overhead. “I’m just pissed I wasn’t invited sooner.”
My brain fucking short-circuited.
Was he messing with us?
But then his hands went to his belt, the metal buckle clinking loud in the dark, and I knew he wasn’t joking.
“But, you’re his Dad! My stepdad … what the—” I stammered, heart hammering.
But he cut me off, his big hand gripping my jaw, firm, controlling. Not enough to hurt but … enough to know who was boss.
“Call me Daddy, boy,” he said, voice gravelly, dripping with command. “Both of you. Show some damn respect.”
