Beautiful Sin - Chapter 4
Spicy BL/MM/GAY Stepbrother Reverse Harem Romance
Davis Brothers
“Tadaima,” Aiden called out, stepping into their shared apartment. The Japanese phrase had become second nature over the past decade—his brilliant idea to help their new stepbrothers feel at home. Though watching Haru’s face light up every time they used his native language might have been an unexpected bonus.
One he absolutely did not think about. Much. Or at all. Definitely not the way Haru’s eyes would brighten, or how his lips would curve into that soft smile reserved only for moments of genuine happiness.
“Okaeri.” Noah emerged from the kitchen, lips quirked in that irritating way that meant he was about to be insufferable. His running clothes clung to his athletic frame, still damp with sweat, dark hair pushed back from his forehead in artful disarray. “Let me guess—our little brother made it to work on time for once?”
“Surprisingly enough.” Aiden loosened his tie, ignoring how his fingers still tingled from where they’d touched Haru’s face. The phantom sensation of soft skin beneath his palm lingered, a dangerous memory he needed to suppress. “The apocalypse must be nigh.”
“Shame. I had money on him being late.” Noah’s casual tone didn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes when he mentioned Haru. He leaned against the doorframe, his posture deceptively relaxed though something in his expression seemed tightly controlled. “You’re getting soft in your old age, letting him slack off like that.”
“Says the guy who still hasn’t showered?” Aiden deflected, the familiar banter a welcome distraction from his inappropriate thoughts.
“Some of us don’t need to look like model covers before breakfast.” Noah stretched, cat-like, somehow managing to look like a fashion spread even in his sweat-dampened running clothes. Trust Noah to be perfectly disheveled after his morning run—it was probably genetic. “Some of us just naturally wake up this perfect.”
“Right,” Aiden drawled, eyeing his brother’s coordinated athletic wear. For someone who claimed not to care about appearances, Noah’s “casual” running outfit probably cost more than most people’s entire wardrobes. “Because you definitely didn’t spend twenty minutes picking out that ‘thrown-together’ look.”
The morning light filtering through their worn curtains caught on Noah’s profile, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. There was something almost predatory in his stance, a coiled tension that seemed at odds with their casual conversation.
“Hilarious.” Noah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know, for someone who claims not to be a helicopter parent, you’ve got the hovering down to an art form.”
“He’s our youngest,” Aiden protested weakly, aware of how pathetic it sounded. “And he’s still too damned cute for a nineteen-year-old. Remember when we first met him?” The memory rose unbidden—nine-year-old Haru, all wide eyes and hesitant smiles, clinging to his mother’s hand at the airport. How small he’d seemed then, how vulnerable. How desperately Aiden had wanted to protect him.
“Ah yes, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.” Noah’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But what I’m trying to say is, even though he’s our youngest and even though he’s cute—” there was a subtle shift in his tone, a possessive edge that made Aiden glance up sharply, “—he is nineteen. An adult. He’s bound to leave the nest sooner or later.”
The words hit like a physical blow, especially after Haru’s slip in the car. Move out. Two simple words that felt like a death sentence. The thought of the apartment without Haru in it—without his laughter filling the hallways, without his quiet presence in the evenings, without those moments of unexpected connection—created a hollow feeling in Aiden’s chest.
“Actually,” Aiden said carefully, studying his brother’s reaction, “Haru mentioned something about moving.”
Noah went very still, his body tensing like a predator that had spotted prey. “Moving?” His voice was too controlled, too careful. “Out of the apartment?”
“He didn’t say exactly, but...”
Something dark flashed in Noah’s eyes, there and gone so quickly Aiden might have imagined it. His knuckles whitened where they gripped the counter, the only outward sign of tension in his otherwise composed demeanor.
“So?” Noah’s casual tone was back, though it sounded forced now, brittle around the edges. “What are you going to do about it? If he wants to move out, you obviously can’t stop him, right?”
The rational part of Aiden knew Noah was right. The irrational part wanted to barricade all the doors and windows. Maybe install a moat. Or perhaps handcuff Haru to his bed—a thought that immediately veered into dangerous territory he refused to explore.
“I’ll talk to him about it.” The words came out more determined than intended, revealing more than Aiden meant to.
“Good luck then.” Noah’s smile was sharp enough to cut, his eyes holding Aiden’s for a beat too long. “Have fun taking your client around inspecting apartments. Try not to buy them all in a misguided attempt to keep certain people from moving out.”
As Noah disappeared to his room—probably to brood handsomely, it was a family trait—Aiden tried not to think about how empty the apartment would feel without Haru in it. Without his sleep-rumpled morning appearances, or the way he’d stretch like a cat on the couch while reading, completely oblivious to the effect he had on... certain people.
Right. Work. Work was safe. Work didn’t involve thoughts about cute stepbrothers or the way they bit their lips when nervous or how their skin felt beneath his fingertips or—
Definitely time for work.
Noah slammed his bedroom door hard enough to rattle the hinges. The perfectly maintained mask he wore around his brothers cracked the second he was alone, frustration boiling over like a pot left unattended too long on the stove.
“Moving out?” he muttered, pacing the length of his meticulously organized room. Every item had its designated place—unlike the chaos currently swirling in his head. “Fucking perfect.”
The thought of Haru leaving punched a hole straight through his chest. Not seeing him every day. Not hearing his voice. Not being able to keep an eye on him. The pain wasn’t just emotional—it was physical, a sharp stab that made him press his hand against his sternum like he could somehow push the sensation back inside.
He’d felt this before. Three years ago, when Haru went on that week-long school trip. By the third day, Noah had developed migraines so severe he’d been curled in the dark, his body burning with fever that vanished the moment Haru walked back through the door. No doctor could explain it. He’d written it off as coincidence, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Get your shit together,” he growled at his reflection in the mirror mounted on his closet door. Flushed cheeks. Bright eyes. Every line of his body screaming tension. Unacceptable for someone who prided himself on control.
With the iron discipline that had become his defining characteristic, Noah forced his features back into their usual composed expression. This was Haru they were talking about. His little stepbrother. The one who needed protection and guidance. Not... whatever this was that made his chest feel like it was being carved out with a dull knife whenever he thought about Haru leaving.
The memory of breakfast flashed through his mind—Haru in that oversized shirt, one pale shoulder exposed, dark hair still damp from the shower. That scent that seemed to follow him everywhere, honey and cherry blossoms with something else underneath, something that bypassed Noah’s brain and went straight to his gut. His body had responded in ways that were inappropriate at best, disturbing at worst.
And he wasn’t the only one affected. He’d seen how Aiden’s knuckles had gone white around his coffee mug, how Mason’s eyes had tracked every movement Haru made. Which just made this whole fucked-up situation even more complicated than it already was.
“Not your problem,” he told his reflection firmly, but the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
The image of Haru remained burned into his retinas—those dark eyes widening when Noah had gripped his chin that morning, lips parting slightly, that flush spreading across his cheeks like watercolor on wet paper. It felt like they’d done this dance before, in some other time, some other place.
Noah stripped off his running clothes, letting them fall to the floor—a cardinal sin in his normally immaculate world. The bathroom called to him, promising scalding water to burn away thoughts he had no business entertaining.
The second he opened the door, Haru’s scent hit him like a physical force. Not the generic green tea shampoo they all used, but something else entirely. Something that belonged only to Haru. The steam had trapped it in the small space, making it impossible to escape, impossible to ignore.
“Jesus,” he muttered, inhaling despite himself. The fragrance did something to him, triggering responses he couldn’t control, couldn’t rationalize away with his usual iron logic. It was like his body recognized something his mind couldn’t quite grasp.
The bathroom was a minefield of Haru’s presence—the frayed towel he preferred hanging over the rod, the faint handprint on the fogged mirror, smaller than Noah’s would be. Normal, everyday things that shouldn’t affect him like this, yet each one tugged at something buried deep inside him.
Noah cranked the shower to just shy of scalding and stepped under the spray. The water pounded against his shoulders like tiny fists, but it did nothing to wash away the thoughts circling his brain like vultures.
His eyes caught on a piece of fabric by the hamper—his old shirt that Haru had been wearing. The sight of it sent a jolt of something possessive and primal through him. Haru wearing his clothes. Surrounded by his scent. Marked, in some small way, as his.
The thought should have disgusted him. Instead, it felt right in a way that disturbed him even more than the desire itself. As if their scents were meant to mingle, as if Haru was supposed to carry something of Noah with him.
Three years. That’s how long he’d been fighting this. Three years since he’d looked at Haru and seen not his kid brother but something else entirely. He remembered the exact moment it had happened. Haru at eighteen, laughing in the summer sun after a water fight with Isaac, droplets clinging to his skin like diamonds, and something in Noah’s brain had just... shifted. Clicked into place like a dislocated joint finally finding its proper alignment.
He’d tried everything to exorcise these feelings. Doubled his running regimen. Thrown himself into his studies and work. Dated a string of people who meant nothing—all trying to burn out whatever this was that made him want things he shouldn’t want, feel things he had no right to feel.
None of it had worked. And now Haru wanted to leave. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through Noah, making his hands clench into fists against the shower wall.
“He’s not yours,” Noah reminded himself, voice lost under the shower spray. “He’s never been yours.”
The worst part was watching Haru moon over Aiden. The way his eyes followed their oldest brother around the room. The blush that crept up his neck when Aiden touched him. That secret smile reserved only for him. It was painfully obvious to anyone who cared to look. And Noah had been looking. Watching. Seething with a jealousy he had no right to feel.
Aiden, the perfect brother. The responsible one. The one who stepped up after their parents died. The one who fought to keep the family together. The one Haru looked at like he hung the moon and stars.
And Noah was almost certain Aiden felt the same way. The lingering glances. The unnecessary touches. The fierce protectiveness that went way beyond brotherly concern. Noah recognized the signs because he saw them in himself, reflected back like a funhouse mirror showing the parts of himself he tried to hide.
Then there was Mason with his easy charm and gentle manner, always finding excuses to be near Haru, to touch him, to make him laugh. Another player in this silent competition none of them would admit existed, all of them circling Haru like planets around a sun.
Noah pressed his forehead against the cool tile, letting water cascade down his back in rivulets. This morning had been torture. Seeing Haru in that shirt, sleepy-eyed and vulnerable. The urge to touch him, to claim him, had been overwhelming. So Noah had done what he always did—channeled that desire into aggression, gripping Haru’s chin too roughly, criticizing him, keeping the distance that kept them both safe.
The water gradually ran cold, jolting Noah back to reality. He shut it off with a sharp twist and stepped out, the bathroom now filled with steam that seemed to intensify Haru’s scent rather than dilute it. He inhaled deeply, allowing himself this one small indulgence before he had to face the world again.
He wiped condensation from the mirror with his palm, and for a split second thought he saw something else reflected back—something wild where his face should be. He blinked, and it was gone. Just his imagination. Had to be.
Control. That’s what separated him from animals. From instinct. From the thing inside him that wanted to claim and possess. He wouldn’t lose that control. Not even for Haru. Especially not for Haru.
His eyes fell on the discarded shirt again. Before he could stop himself, Noah picked it up, the fabric soft between his fingers. He brought it to his face, inhaling the scent that clung to the fibers, that impossible combination of honey and cherry blossoms and lily.
The effect hit him like a drug—immediate and overwhelming. For one dangerous moment, Noah let himself feel it all. The want. The need. The pull that felt older than himself, deeper than desire, more fundamental than family ties.
Then, with the discipline that defined every aspect of his life, he dropped the shirt into the hamper and straightened his shoulders. Time to be the Noah everyone expected. The responsible brother. The controlled one. Not the one harboring inappropriate feelings for his stepbrother. Not the one jealous of how Haru looked at Aiden. Not the one already planning ways to make sure Haru never moved out.
Because that Noah—the real one beneath the carefully constructed facade—was someone no one could ever be allowed to see. Not even Haru. Especially not Haru.
As he dressed, his eyes kept drifting to the hamper where Haru’s shirt lay buried. Something told him that no matter how far Haru might try to go, some bonds couldn’t be broken. Some connections ran deeper than choice or morality or even understanding.
It wasn’t a comforting thought.
But it felt true in a way nothing else did.
Aiden walked into Mark Williams Realty looking every inch the successful real estate agent he was. Though if his tie was slightly crooked—thanks to fidgeting with it the entire drive while definitely not thinking about certain morning events—no one needed to know. The memory of Haru’s face in the car, those dark eyes wide and startled when Aiden touched him, kept intruding despite his best efforts to focus on work.
The third-floor office was quiet, being Friday, which suited his mood perfectly. Less chance of anyone noticing if he spent half the morning staring at his laptop screen instead of actually working. The familiar environment—glass partitions, sleek furniture, the distant hum of the air conditioning—should have been calming. Instead, Aiden found himself restless, unable to settle into his usual routine.
“Well, if it isn’t everyone’s favorite workaholic,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking through his reverie.
So much for peace and quiet.
Peter Williams—friend, colleague, and living proof that nepotism occasionally worked out—dropped into the chair opposite Aiden’s desk with all the grace of a man who knew his father owned the building. His tailored suit and easy confidence spoke of old money and ivy league education, though the genuine warmth in his eyes prevented him from being completely insufferable.
“Some of us actually earn our paychecks,” Aiden shot back, not looking up from his email. All thirty unread messages that he’d been ignoring for the past hour while his mind wandered to more dangerous territories. Like the way Haru’s hair had felt under his fingers, silky and still damp from the shower, or how his pulse had jumped when Aiden’s thumb brushed his cheek—
No. Emails. Safe, boring emails about property values and closing costs. Not the way Haru’s lips had parted slightly when Aiden touched him, or how his eyes had darkened with something that looked almost like—
“Says the man who’s been staring at the same email for ten minutes.” Peter’s grin was insufferable, his knowing gaze taking in Aiden’s distracted state with too much perception. “Hot date? Or should I say, hot brother?”
Aiden’s head snapped up, alarm coursing through him. “What?”
Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Aiden’s reaction. “I said, hot date? You’ve been a million miles away since you walked in.”
Relief washed over Aiden, followed immediately by guilt. He was getting paranoid, hearing his own inappropriate thoughts in innocent questions. “Client meeting,” he replied, forcing his attention back to his screen.
“Shame. Tina’s been plotting your love life again.”
As if summoned by her name—and knowing Tina, she probably had been lurking nearby—Peter’s wife appeared in the doorway. The gleam in her eyes made Aiden want to crawl under his desk. Tina Williams was a force of nature wrapped in designer clothes, her matchmaking tendencies legendary around the office. She’d successfully paired up three colleagues in the past year alone, and her sights had been firmly set on Aiden for months.
“Speaking of the devil,” Peter chuckled, earning a swat from his wife.
“Darling, I thought you were getting things before lunch?” Tina’s innocent tone fooled exactly no one. She shut the door with a decisive click that sounded suspiciously like a prison cell closing. Her perfume—something expensive and floral—filled the office as she moved with predatory grace toward them.
“I am, I am.” Peter rose, dropping a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Try not to traumatize him too much. We need him functional for the Henderson showing.”
The moment Peter left, Tina claimed his vacant seat like a queen ascending her throne. Her expression suggested Aiden was about to be sentenced for crimes against romance. The sunlight streaming through the office windows caught on her wedding ring, the diamond throwing prisms of light across the desk—a reminder of her self-proclaimed expertise in matters of the heart.
“Don’t,” he warned, recognizing the determined glint in her eye.
“I haven’t said anything!” Her wounded look might have been more convincing if she wasn’t practically vibrating with suppressed matchmaking energy, her perfectly manicured nails tapping a restless rhythm against the arm of the chair.
“You’re thinking it very loudly.” Aiden turned his attention deliberately back to his computer, though the words on the screen might as well have been written in Sanskrit for all the sense they made to him right now.
“Well, someone has to think about your happiness, since you’re determined to be professionally successful and personally miserable.” She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with the zeal of a woman on a mission. “Speaking of personal happiness, how’s your brother doing?”
The casual question made Aiden’s heart skip a beat, his fingers freezing over the keyboard. He kept his face carefully blank, years of business negotiations coming to his aid. “Brother? Singular? That’s favoritism, Tina. I have five of them, you know.” The deflection was weak, and they both knew it.
“Oh please.” She waved away his response like an annoying fly. “You know exactly which one I mean. The cute one who’s finally legal—”
“We are not having this conversation.” Aiden’s voice dropped to a warning rumble, his hands curling into fists beneath the desk.
“—and single—” Tina continued, undeterred.
“Tina.” The single word held a wealth of warning.
“—and clearly adores you—” She pressed on, leaning forward with the enthusiasm of someone who’d found a particularly juicy piece of gossip.
“I will call Security.” The threat was empty and they both knew it.
“—and is probably being pursued by half the city while you sit here pretending to read emails.”
The pen in Aiden’s hand made an ominous cracking sound. He set it down before he could accidentally stab something. Or someone. The image of Haru being “pursued” by nameless, faceless people made something dark and possessive curl in his chest, a sensation he had no right to feel but couldn’t seem to control.
“He’s nineteen,” Aiden said through gritted teeth, like that number hadn’t been haunting his dreams for months. Like he hadn’t been counting down the days, hating himself for it even as he marked each one off the calendar.
“Exactly!” Tina’s triumphant grin suggested she’d just won some argument Aiden hadn’t realized they were having. She leaned back, crossing her legs. “Legal, adult, and absolutely gorgeous if the way your clients drool when he brings you lunch is any indication.”
The reminder of how others looked at Haru made Aiden’s jaw clench. He’d noticed, of course. Hard not to when every delivery person, client, and random passerby seemed magnetically drawn to Haru’s presence. The way they’d lean too close, laugh too loud at his innocent comments, find excuses to touch his arm—
Another pen met its demise, the plastic cracking beneath Aiden’s fingers.
“So?” Tina pressed, entirely too pleased with his reaction. “Are you finally going to confess?”
“What I’m going to do,” Aiden said with forced calm, “is work. You know, that thing some of us do for a living?” He gestured to the stack of files on his desk, the computer screen full of unanswered emails, the calendar packed with appointments.
“Please. You’re as workaholic as Peter is punctual.” She settled back, crossing her legs like she was preparing for a long siege. “And here I thought you’d jump at the chance the moment he turned nineteen. Instead, you’re sitting here, destroying innocent office supplies while some lucky person could be sweeping him off his feet.”
The image of Haru with someone else made something dark and possessive curl in Aiden’s chest. Someone else touching him, making him laugh, kissing those lips that Aiden had spent far too much time thinking about. The thought was physically painful, like a knife twisting between his ribs.
“Tina—” he began, a warning note in his voice.
“I mean, he’s young, cute, single... How long before he finds someone? Falls in love? Gets married?” Each scenario felt like a knife to the gut, the imagined future playing out in vivid detail in Aiden’s mind. “Has adorable babies with someone who isn’t too scared to—”
“Enough.” The word came out sharper than intended, edged with a desperation Aiden couldn’t quite hide.
Tina’s expression softened, the teasing gleam in her eyes giving way to genuine concern. “You can’t keep torturing yourself like this, Aiden. Two years of watching you pine is enough to drive anyone crazy. Just tell him.”
“Tell him what?” Aiden laughed, the sound bitter even to his own ears. “That his trusted older brother, the one who’s supposed to protect him, wants to pin him against the nearest wall and—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, disturbing the perfect coif he’d spent ten minutes on that morning. “Yeah, that’ll go over well.”
The words hung in the air between them, more honest than Aiden had intended. The fantasies he’d been suppressing—of Haru beneath him, around him, those dark eyes wide with pleasure instead of innocent trust—flashed through his mind, bringing heat to his face and shame to his heart.
“Better than watching him walk away with someone else,” Tina countered, her voice gentler now, though no less determined.
“He already wants to move out.” The admission felt like defeat, the words leaving a bitter taste in Aiden’s mouth.
“What?” Tina sat up straighter, surprise evident in her expression. “When did this happen?”
“This morning. He let it slip in the car, then practically ran away when I asked about it.” The memory of Haru’s panicked expression twisted something in his chest—the way those dark eyes had widened, how he’d physically recoiled from Aiden’s touch. “See? He can’t even stand being around me anymore.”
“Or maybe,” Tina said slowly, like she was explaining something to a particularly dense child, “he’s running for the same reason you’re sitting here destroying innocent office supplies instead of claiming what you want.”
The suggestion hung in the air, dangerous and tempting. Could Haru possibly...? No. That was wishful thinking, projecting his own inappropriate desires onto his innocent stepbrother. Haru was just growing up, seeking independence like any normal nineteen-year-old. It had nothing to do with the feelings Aiden had been struggling to suppress.
Before Aiden could process that disturbing thought, his phone buzzed. Client meeting in fifteen minutes. The mundane reminder of his responsibilities was almost a relief—something concrete to focus on, something that didn’t involve dissecting his inappropriate feelings for his stepbrother.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Tina announced, rising with suspicious timing. “Just... think about what I said? And maybe buy some new pens.” She gestured to the carnage on his desk—two broken pens and a mangled paperclip that had somehow become collateral damage.
She was gone before he could respond, leaving Aiden alone with thoughts he’d been trying to suppress for two years. Thoughts about soft dark hair and defiant eyes, about morning smiles and the way Haru said his name like it meant something more. About the way he’d looked in the car this morning, vulnerable and beautiful in a way that made Aiden’s chest ache.
“Fuck,” he muttered, reaching for his jacket. He needed to focus on work, on being the responsible older brother, on anything except the way Haru had looked in his car this morning, lips parted and cheeks flushed and—
Yeah. He was definitely going to need those new pens.