Worn and Claimed

The front door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silent hallway like a starting gun. Elias dropped his gym bag on the floor, the heavy thud vibrating up his legs. He was sweating, his muscles aching from a brutal leg day, and all he wanted was a cold shower and a protein shake. He walked into the living room, expecting the usual empty quiet of the apartment, but instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, sprawled on the beige leather sofa like he owned the place, was Jace. Elias’s stepbrother. The guy was a total leech, mooching off their parents’ money and contributing absolutely nothing but dirty dishes and noise. But today, the noise wasn’t the problem. It was the clothes.

Jace was wearing a vintage band tee—a rare, limited-edition print Elias had hunted down for months. He was wearing a pair of Elias’s favorite gray joggers, the ones with the frayed hem that he’d broken in perfectly. The sight made Elias’s blood pressure spike. He didn’t share. He didn’t do charity, especially not for a stepbrother who treated his stuff like a communal thrift store.

Elias marched across the room, his jaw set tight enough to crack. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing?"

Jace looked up, startled, a half-eaten apple suspended in mid-air. He chewed slowly, swallowing with an audible gulp before shrugging. "Chilling? What’s your problem?"

"My problem?" Elias pointed a finger at the shirt. "That is my shirt. Those are my pants. Get them off."

Jace rolled his eyes, tossing the core onto the coffee table. "Relax, bro. They were in the laundry room. I figured they were fair game. You got plenty of shit."

"I don't care what I have. They’re mine. Take them off." Elias stepped closer, looming over the sofa. He didn’t care if he sounded like a psycho. This was a boundary, and Jace had just trampled across it in muddy boots.

"Fine, whatever. You’re so uptight." Jace sat up, peeling the gray joggers down his legs. He kicked them off, letting them pool on the floor. Then he grabbed the hem of the band tee.

Elias watched, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for the satisfaction of seeing his property returned. But as Jace lifted the shirt, exposing his stomach, then his chest, Elias’s eyes narrowed. The kid had a decent body—lean, smooth, a bit softer than Elias’s own hardened physique, but not bad.

Jace pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it on top of the pants. He leaned back against the cushions, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He smirked, stretching his arms behind his head. "Happy now?"

Elias stared at the underwear. The waistband had a distinct teal stripe. The cut was low, the fabric high-end modal. He felt a vein throb in his temple. Those were his favorite pair. The ones he saved for dates. The ones that cost forty bucks a pop.

"Those too," Elias growled.

Jace’s smirk faltered. He looked down at himself, then back up at Elias. "Dude, seriously? I’m in my underwear."

"You’re in my underwear. Take. Them. Off."

"You want me naked?" Jace laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sound. "That’s weird, man."

"I don't give a shit if it’s weird. You’re wearing my clothes. Every stitch. Get them off, or I’ll rip them off you." Elias stepped right up to the edge of the sofa, his knees brushing Jace’s shins. He was done playing games.

Jace hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape route. Seeing none, he let out a huff of breath. "You’re a freak."

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pushed the black fabric down over his hips. Elias watched the movement with predatory focus. As the waistband cleared Jace’s hips, the fabric snagged on something, then sprang free.

Elias’s breath hitched in his throat.

Jace’s cock flopped out, heavy and thick, slapping against his thigh with a dull, meaty sound. It was soft, but even soft, it was impressive. A thick mushroom head, a vein running up the underside that looked like a pipeline. It was a monster. Jace quickly shoved the boxers down his legs and kicked them away, crossing his hands over his lap to hide himself.

"There. You happy, you pervert?" Jace glared, his face flushing a deep red.

Elias didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were locked on the space between Jace’s hands, where the one-eyed monster was hiding. The anger that had been fueling him just seconds ago was suddenly... different. It was still hot, still intense, but it had morphed into something else. A curiosity. A hunger.

He looked at Jace’s face, flushed with embarrassment, then down to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. The shirt, the joggers, the boxers. It was a mountain of evidence. Jace hadn’t just borrowed them; he’d put them on his skin. He’d rubbed Elias’s fabric against his cock, against his ass.

Elias realized he wasn’t mad anymore. Not really. This was an opportunity.

"You’ve got a big dick, Jace," Elias said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding rougher than he intended.

Jace scoffed, looking away. "Shut up."

"No, I mean it. I didn’t know you were packing that." Elias took a step closer, invading Jace’s personal space completely. He could smell the scent of his own laundry detergent mixed with Jace’s musk. It was intoxicating. "If you’re going to wear my clothes, rub my shit all over your junk... I think it’s only fair if I get a closer look."

Jace tried to scramble back, but the sofa arm stopped him. "Get away from me, Elias. I’m not gay."

"I didn’t say you were. I didn’t say I was." Elias reached out and grabbed Jace’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his lap. Jace resisted, but Elias was stronger, fueled by the rush of dominance. He pinned Jace’s hands to the cushions on either side of his head.

The cock was right there. Thick, meaty, resting against Jace’s abs. It was starting to twitch.

"Look at that," Elias murmured. He leaned down, his face inches from Jace’s groin. He inhaled deeply, smelling the raw scent of another man. "You stole my underwear, Jace. You put your dick in my favorite boxers. You stretched them out."

"I’ll wash them! Jesus!" Jace squirmed, his hips bucking up involuntarily as Elias’s breath ghosted over his shaft.

"Washing isn’t enough." Elias stuck out his tongue and ran a flat, wet stripe up the underside of Jace’s cock, from the base to the tip.

Jace gasped, his back arching off the leather. "Oh fuck! Elias, stop!"

"You didn't stop when you put them on," Elias said, ignoring the protest. He did it again, slower this time, letting his tongue linger on the heavy vein. "You want to wear my stuff? Fine. But now you wear me."

He opened his mouth and engulfed the head of Jace’s cock.

It was hot and salty on his tongue. The texture was smooth, velvety, but the hardness underneath was undeniable. Elias moaned around the mouthful, the vibration traveling straight down Jace’s shaft. He felt Jace’s hands twitch in his grip, the resistance melting into confusion, then into reluctant pleasure.

Elias didn’t tease. He wanted it all. He bobbed his head down, taking half the length into his throat, relaxing his gag reflex to accommodate the girth. He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing, creating a vacuum that made Jace cry out.

"Holy shit... oh my god..." Jace’s head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerked up, pushing more of his cock into Elias’s mouth. "That feels... fuck..."

Elias pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his lips to the flushed head. "Yeah, you like that. You like having your big dick in my mouth?"

Jace shook his head frantically, but his breath was coming in ragged gasps. "No... I don't... this is wrong..."

"Shut up." Elias dived back down, taking him even deeper this time. He used his hand to stroke the base, twisting his wrist in time with the suction of his mouth. He was sloppy, loud, letting the spit dribble down Jace’s balls. He wanted to ruin him.

The room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of cocksucking. Slurping, gagging, the heavy thud of Elias’s hand pumping the shaft. Jace was panting, his legs trembling, his fingers digging into the leather cushions. The anger was gone from his face, replaced by a mask of pure, overwhelmed lust.

Elias pulled off again, gasping for air. He looked at the spit-soaked cock, glistening in the afternoon light. It was fully hard now, a massive, angry rod of flesh. Elias wanted it inside him, every inch. But first, he needed to teach Jace a lesson about boundaries.

"You stretched my boxers, Jace," Elias growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now I’m going to stretch you."

Jace’s eyes snapped open, panic flaring in them. "What? No. No way."

Elias didn’t wait for permission. He grabbed Jace by the hips and roughly flipped him over. Jace yelped as he was manhandled, his face pressing into the leather sofa, his ass sticking up in the air. It was a perfect ass—round, pale, with a dusting of hair in the crack.

"Get off me!" Jace yelled, trying to push himself up.

Elias planted a hand between Jace’s shoulder blades and shoved him back down. "Stay there."

He spread Jace’s cheeks apart, exposing the tight, pink pucker hidden between them. It clenched instinctively at the exposure. Elias leaned in and spat directly on the hole, watching the saliva drip down over the perineum.

"Nice and tight," Elias muttered. "We’ll fix that."

He used his thumb to rub the spit around the rim, applying pressure, feeling the muscle resist. Jace was whimpering now, burying his face in his arms, but he wasn’t fighting hard. His body was tense, vibrating with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"Please, Elias... don't..." Jace’s voice was muffled by the leather.

"You stole my clothes, little bro. You owe me." Elias pressed his thumb against the entrance, harder this time. The muscle gave way just enough to let the tip inside. "You owe me this hole."

He worked his thumb in, circling it, stretching the ring. Jace groaned, a low, guttural sound that went straight to Elias’s own cock, which was straining painfully against his gym shorts. Elias reached down with his free hand and freed himself, letting his own hard dick spring out. He stroked it in time with the thrusting of his thumb.

"Fuck, you’re tight," Elias hissed. He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with two fingers, scissoring them open, forcing Jace’s body to accept the intrusion. "I’m gonna wreck this ass."

Jace’s hips pushed back against his fingers, a betrayal of his own body. "It hurts... it’s too big..."

"It’s not big enough yet." Elias pulled his fingers out and grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in the side table drawer—thank god for preparedness. He slicked up his cock, the cool gel mixing with the pre-cum leaking from the tip. Then he drizzled some more onto Jace’s hole, watching it twitch.

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against the wet entrance. "This is what happens when you touch my stuff, Jace. You become my stuff."

With one brutal thrust, he pushed inside.

Jace screamed, his whole body seizing up. "FUCK! Elias!"

Elias didn’t stop. He gripped Jace’s hips hard enough to bruise and drove forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. The heat was incredible, the tightness suffocating. Jace’s ass felt like a velvet vice, clamping down around him, trying to push him out.

"Take it," Elias grunted, his teeth gritted. He pulled back until just the head was inside, then slammed forward again. "Take my fucking cock."

He set a punishing rhythm, skin slapping against skin with a loud, rhythmic crack-crack-crack. The sofa squeaked beneath them, adding to the cacophony of sex. Jace was moaning continuously now, a stream of broken curses and gasps.

"Oh god... oh god... you’re splitting me open..."

"Good." Elias reached around and grabbed Jace’s cock, which was still hard, dripping pre-cum onto the leather. He started jerking him off in time with his thrusts. "You like getting fucked by your stepbrother? You like my big dick in your ass?"

"No... yes... fuck... I don't know!" Jace was losing his mind. The stimulation was too much—the prostate pounding, the hand on his dick, the sheer taboo of it all.

Elias leaned forward, covering Jace’s back with his chest, sweat slicking their skin together. He bit down on Jace’s shoulder, tasting salt and skin. "You’re mine now, Jace. Every time you look at my clothes, you’re gonna think about this. You’re gonna think about my cock in your ass."

He picked up the pace, fucking him harder, deeper. He was close, the pressure building in his balls. He could feel Jace’s ass spasming around him, the muscles rippling as Jace got closer to the edge too.

"I’m gonna cum," Jace whimpered, his hand clawing at the sofa. "I’m gonna cum, Elias!"

"Cum for me," Elias commanded, squeezing Jace’s dick tighter. "Shoot that load all over my couch."

With a hoarse cry, Jace exploded. His cock throbbed in Elias’s hand, spurting thick ropes of white cum all over the leather cushions. His ass clamped down like a vice grip, milking Elias’s shaft.

The sensation pushed Elias over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time and roared, his vision blurring. He emptied himself into Jace’s bowels, pulse after pulse of hot cum filling his stepbrother up. He held himself there, shaking, riding out the aftershocks, until he was completely drained.

Slowly, he pulled out. A flood of cum followed his cock, dripping out of Jace’s red, gaping hole and running down his thighs. It was a filthy, beautiful sight.

Elias sat back on his heels, panting, looking at the mess they’d made. Jace was collapsed on the sofa, face down, trembling slightly, covered in sweat and cum.

Elias reached out and patted Jace’s ass cheek, a possessive, final gesture. "Next time you need something to wear," he said, his voice rough but satisfied, "just ask. I’ll give you something to fill you up."

Jace let out a weak, breathless laugh into the cushions. He didn't move. He just lay there, wearing nothing but the aftermath, owned completely.