Not My Brother's Keeper
Copyright© 2026 by Daemon D. Hart
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - At nineteen, I never expected to get a new brother, but that’s exactly what happens when my father remarries. His new wife brings a son along, and chaos enters my life. I’m a choir boy; he’s a troublemaker. We dislike each other from the start, and things only get worse when we’re forced to share a college dorm room. I’m convinced he’s my doom. My sensual, sexual, the darkest of dark doom. So, no one - my father, his mother, or him - should expect me to be his salvation.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Reluctant Gay Fiction Anal Sex Analingus First Oral Sex
Growing up in a religious household meant I learned early to sort the world into clean categories. You know, the whole thing: good versus evil, saved versus lost, or holy ... well, that last bit got me in the end. What’s the opposite of holy?
Damned.
Because I was damned from the moment Madeline Shaw pulled into our driveway, and HE climbed out, all loose limbs and ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude, ready to take over my life.
I barely heard my dad’s murmured ‘I guess this is it’, as my eyes were glued to this guy. Have you ever heard the expression ‘green like sin’?
It suddenly made sense, because his eyes were green, so green that they took up the whole canvas of my line of sight, and all I could think of in that moment was, obviously— Sin.
I was a choir boy; of course, I was. That didn’t mean that my lips gave voice to the purity in my heart as divine words left my mouth. No, I was too busy stealing glances at the others, wondering what made them so convinced that true salvation existed for their mortal souls.
“Madeline,” my dad rushed to meet our guests, brushing my arm in the process to remind me that I wasn’t supposed to stand rooted in place.
I resisted the urge to follow his silent order as I usually did. After all these years of being alone, he and I, why did he want to marry all of a sudden?
Madeline was a short woman with a pixie cut and lovely eyes. She seemed alright. I paid her little to no attention, as my eyes kept drawing to her son of their own accord.
He wore a black singlet that showed too much skin and ripped jeans, which basically told me everything I needed to know: we were different, and we’d always be and remain worlds apart. He stared back at me shamelessly, as if he wanted to provoke me. How did I look to him? Was I too preppy, too skinny, too un-manly?
He’d let me know soon enough. Like he couldn’t give a damn about me and my obviously hostile attitude, he began sweeping his eyes over the façade of our house. There was no need for him to utter a single sound. He judged us, our clothes, and our home, and we came up short.
“Adrian, come meet Gary and his son,” his mom called out loud.
I could feel her stare at me, and I wasn’t raised to be rude. I shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Shaw,” I said, emphasizing the last two words.
“Call me Mads, please,” she said with a soft giggle that went straight to my cold, wretched heart. How could a woman who looked like she spread sunshine and good wishes with each step she took give birth to a guy like that, who looked like storm and thunder incarnate?
He must have taken after his dad, because he looked nothing like her. His skin was darker than hers, but his soul was darker than the darkest black, although, at the moment, I could only guess the latter. I straightened up and forced myself to look over his forehead, to pretend to be taller. The first impulse was to assure this stranger that I had no intention to surrender the claim I had over our home to accommodate his sorry ass.
His crew cut seemed rather neat for someone who didn’t care about showing skin, as if he needed to wear tatters to convince the world that he didn’t give a damn about what everyone thought.
“I’m Jordan,” I said, striking out my hand to make sure I’d keep him at a distance and reduce skin-on-skin contact as much as possible.
“Jo,” he drawled, his face breaking into a grin that announced nothing good.
“Jordan,” I insisted, but he ignored my obvious wrath and pulled me into a hug, forcing my face and especially my nose into his armpit. I was so surprised that I inhaled by accident. As if it wasn’t enough that I already hated him, he had to smell like an animal, too, musky and deep, making me dizzy for a moment.
I must have leaned against him due to the shock of being grabbed like that, because he took that as a cue that he could run his hands over my back. In front of our parents!
“Adrian,” his mom called playfully, “don’t scare your future stepbrother like that. Yet.”
“The boys need to get to know each other,” my dad said hurriedly. “Come, my dear. Jordan, show your brother the room we prepared for him upstairs.”
I wanted to protest, but I was already nineteen, and it wasn’t like I was ever anything but serious when Dad wanted me to do something or behave a certain way. That made things easier between us, and each of us kept his affairs private.
“Yes, Dad,” I said, my words coming out muffled, because Adrian was still pressing me against him.
“Adrian,” Madeline warned, this time on a more serious tone. “Don’t tease Jordan, please.”
To my surprise, Dad laughed. “Jordan needs a bit of loosening up.”
Oh, Dad, famous last words. Adrian would do a lot more than ‘a bit of loosening up’.
“This is your room.” I pointed around stiffly, without looking at him once. I had spent all my free time painting the room with a fresh coat, dragging in the new furniture, and making sure nothing was amiss. Adrian’s room was much nicer than mine. And for what? Come fall, we’d all be leaving for college. That meant that all this effort had been in vain. On the upside, save for two months of summer, I won’t have to put up with this asshole.
Still, two months seemed like such a long time, and I had no idea that the worst was yet to come.