Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 7: The Family Bond – by Aarav Anthem

Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 7: The Family Bond – by Aarav Anthem

Ethan sat on the cabin’s worn couch, the blanket draped over his shoulders doing little to warm the chill in his bones. The fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting long shadows across the room, but Ethan’s focus was inward, replaying the forest clearing’s chaos. His body ached, marked by the men’s hands, their seed, their hunger. The journal’s curse felt alive inside him, a pulse that synced with his heartbeat, binding him to Marcus, to Richard, to a legacy he couldn’t unsee. Yet, amidst the shame, a twisted pride flickered—he’d endured, he’d been chosen.

Marcus lounged in an armchair, a whiskey glass in hand, his green eyes studying Ethan with a mix of possession and approval. Richard stood by the fire, his lean frame silhouetted, his silence heavy. The air was thick with unspoken understanding, the forest ritual having stripped away any pretense. Ethan was theirs now, not just Marcus’s son but a vessel for their bloodline’s pact.

“You held up out there,” Marcus said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost tender, a stark contrast to his usual cruelty. “Knew you had it in you, kid.” He set his glass down and stood, his boots scuffing the floor as he approached. His hand found Ethan’s chin, tilting his face up. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Ethan’s throat tightened, his eyes meeting Marcus’s. He wanted to hate the man, to spit in his face, but the praise stirred something deep, a need he couldn’t name. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Richard turned, his gaze sharp. “Choice is an illusion, Ethan,” he said, stepping closer. “The pact chooses us. You felt its power tonight, didn’t you?” His hand rested on Ethan’s shoulder, a paternal gesture that felt anything but innocent. “You’re part of something eternal.”

Ethan’s skin prickled, the weight of their words pressing down. He stood, the blanket slipping to the floor, his body still bare beneath the oversized shirt Marcus had given him. “What now?” he asked, his voice trembling. “You keep using me until I break?”

Marcus chuckled, his hand sliding down Ethan’s chest, fingers brushing his nipple through the fabric. “Break? Nah, kid. We’re building you up.” He glanced at Richard, a silent signal, and the older man nodded, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a scarred, wiry torso. Ethan’s pulse quickened, his body already responding, conditioned by weeks of surrender.

“Time to seal it proper,” Marcus said, his voice a low growl. He guided Ethan to the rug before the fire, the heat warming his skin as he knelt. Richard joined them, his hands gentle but firm, easing Ethan’s shirt off. Marcus shed his jeans, his cock thick and hard, and Ethan’s mouth watered despite himself, the curse’s pull undeniable.

Marcus knelt before Ethan, his hands cupping his face, a rare tenderness in his touch. “This is us, Ethan,” he murmured. “Father, son, grandfather. Blood to blood.” His lips brushed Ethan’s, a brief, shocking kiss that left Ethan reeling. Richard’s hands roamed Ethan’s back, his cock pressing against Ethan’s hip, and the intimacy of the moment was suffocating, a blend of love and dominance.

Ethan’s hands found Marcus’s chest, the familiar muscle grounding him as he leaned in, taking Marcus’s cock into his mouth. The taste was home now, musk and salt, and Marcus groaned, his fingers threading through Ethan’s hair. Richard’s hands spread Ethan’s thighs, oil-slick fingers preparing him, and Ethan moaned, the vibration making Marcus thrust deeper.

Richard entered him slowly, his cock thinner than Marcus’s but no less commanding, each thrust deliberate, reverent. “You’re perfect,” Richard whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Our legacy lives in you.” Ethan’s body rocked between them, Marcus in his mouth, Richard in his ass, the fire’s heat mirroring the burn inside him.

Marcus’s thrusts grew urgent, his hands tightening. “Fuck, kid,” he growled, pulling out to stroke himself, his cum painting Ethan’s face, warm and thick. Ethan gasped, licking his lips instinctively, and Richard’s pace quickened, his groans filling the room. He came deep inside Ethan, his hands gripping Ethan’s hips, and Ethan’s own orgasm followed, a shuddering release that left him trembling.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs on the rug, the fire’s glow softening the edges of their act. Marcus’s hand rested on Ethan’s chest, his breathing steady, while Richard’s fingers traced Ethan’s spine, a quiet claim. For a moment, Ethan felt whole, bound to these men not just by curse but by something deeper, a twisted love he couldn’t reconcile.

The moment shattered when Ethan’s phone buzzed on the table. He reached for it, his body protesting, and saw Sarah’s name. He hesitated, Marcus’s eyes on him, but answered. “Mom?” he said, his voice raw.

“Ethan,” Sarah said, her tone tight, distant. “You’re still with your father?” The question felt loaded, her pause heavy with meaning. “I know what’s happening, Ethan. I’ve always known.” Her voice cracked, and Ethan’s heart stopped. “I stayed for him, for the power he holds. Don’t hate me.”

“Mom, what—” Ethan started, but she cut him off.

“Just be careful,” she said. “You’re in deeper than you think.” The line went dead, and Ethan stared at the phone, his world tilting. Sarah knew. She’d known about the curse, about Marcus, about everything. The betrayal cut deeper than any touch, leaving him hollow.

Marcus watched, his expression unreadable. “She tell you to run?” he asked, his voice calm. Ethan nodded, unable to speak. Marcus leaned close, his lips brushing Ethan’s ear. “She won’t save you, kid. Nobody will. You’re ours.” His hand slid down Ethan’s back, a reminder of the ritual, of the bond.

Richard stood, dressing silently, his eyes avoiding Ethan’s. “Get some sleep,” he said, his voice gruff. “Tomorrow’s a new day.” He left the room, the door clicking shut, and Ethan felt the cabin’s walls closing in, the curse’s grip tightening.

Marcus pulled Ethan close, his body warm, possessive. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you?” he murmured. “This ain’t just about fucking. It’s family. It’s forever.” Ethan closed his eyes, his mother’s words echoing, her complicity a wound he couldn’t process. He leaned into Marcus’s embrace, hating himself for the comfort it brought, the pride that lingered despite the shame.

As sleep claimed him, the fire’s embers glowed, a mirror to the curse burning in his blood. He was Ethan, son of Marcus, grandson of Richard, heir to a legacy of lust and power. And for the first time, he wondered if he could ever be anything else.

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