Part 8: Claimed
The morning light crept in through the blinds like fingers across skin.
Aaron woke first.
Eli lay beside him, curled against his chest, skin still warm from the night before. One leg draped over his thigh, one arm hooked possessively around his waist. He was still, breath even, hair messy and soft.
Aaron didn't move.
He just stared.
Not in horror. Not in confusion.
But in something quieter.
Possession.
There was no guilt. No racing thoughts. No self-loathing.
Just heat.
The memory of Eli's mouth. The sound of his voice in the dark. The way he'd gasped and moaned — not like someone afraid, but like someone finally being taken the way he needed.
Aaron's fingers trailed along Eli's spine, slowly. Almost reverent.
Eli stirred, stretching like a cat.
"You're awake," he murmured, eyes still half-closed.
Aaron grunted.
Eli smiled lazily and pressed closer, burying his face into the crook of Aaron's neck.
"You didn't stop," he whispered.
"I didn't want to."
"Good."
Later, they moved through the house like a shared secret.
Aaron showered first, steam rising from the bathroom like mist from a battlefield. When he stepped out, towel around his waist, Eli was already there — perched on the sink, legs crossed, watching him.
"Staring again?" Aaron muttered.
"Always," Eli said softly. "You want me to stop?"
Aaron walked forward. Eli didn't flinch.
He stood between the boy's legs, towel damp against Eli's bare thigh. Their faces inches apart.
"No," Aaron said. "Don't ever stop."
Eli leaned forward, kissed his chest — just once — then hopped down and padded out of the room, hips swaying with quiet confidence.
Aaron watched him go, blood hot in his veins.
They didn't talk about Mia.
Not once.
Not because they were avoiding it — but because it no longer mattered.
Whatever existed between Eli and Aaron now, it had replaced her. Quietly. Completely.
Aaron no longer saw Eli as his sister's boyfriend.
He saw him as his.
That afternoon, Aaron found himself irritated when Eli didn't immediately respond to a text.
He walked through the house, found him on the balcony — legs up, sunlight on his bare knees, hair blowing in the breeze.
Eli looked up from his book and smiled.
"You were looking for me?"
Aaron didn't answer. He just crossed the space and sat beside him, pulling him close by the waist.
Eli laughed softly. "You don't like being ignored."
"I don't like you being far."
Eli closed the book and leaned against his shoulder.
"You're getting possessive," he said.
"I was always possessive," Aaron replied. "You just never noticed."
"I noticed," Eli whispered. "I just waited for you to act on it."
Aaron kissed him then — hard, fierce, biting just enough to leave a mark.
Eli moaned softly and kissed him back, his nails lightly grazing Aaron's neck, as if claiming him in return.
That night, they didn't sleep apart.
They didn't bother hiding it.
Eli wore one of Aaron's shirts again — nothing else.
And when Aaron pulled him into bed, there was no hesitancy, no restraint. Only heat. Only need.
The sound of the headboard against the wall. The quiet moans into pillows. The low grunt of a man no longer denying what was his.
When morning came again, Eli sat on the counter in the kitchen, wearing nothing but an apron and smirking at Aaron over a bowl of cut fruit.
Aaron walked in, still shirtless, and didn't ask why Eli was half-naked.
He simply walked behind him, placed a hand firmly on his hip, and leaned in close.
"You're not going anywhere today."
Eli tilted his head back onto Aaron's shoulder.
"I wasn't planning to."
Aaron kissed his neck.
And Eli let him — with a smile that said:
I own you too.
[To Be Continued — In Part 9: Eli's confidence grows. Public appearances blur boundaries. Aaron shows signs of obsession in subtle, frightening ways — protective, territorial, addicted. Mia returns… and everything threatens to explode.]