10 Years Later

That day, Ariel had been 8 years old. Oblivious to the wickedness he was treated with in those days. Moving to Millard Manor was the turning point in his life. He agreed to go with the woman because he'd known that if he stayed with his siblings, they would only continue touching him, and things would only get worse.

At the manor, he met his new guardians. The first one, who made an earlier appearance than the rest, was called Ansel. Naturally, he was the one Ariel quickly warmed up to. He might have looked relatively scarier than the others with leatherwear, and his tattoos that covered almost every part of his body and the many piercings in his ears and eyebrows, but he was very easy to talk to.

The second, swathed in a white tux, white dress slacks and white shoes, introduced himself as Avery. He was a long-haired silver blond, and his lucid eyes had nothing but depth. He was the quietest, looked like he was totally out of it most of the time but in realty he was quite the watcher, and quite the critic.

The last, but undeniably not least, was Sergio. His aura was utterly entrapping. His smile could tangibly touch a heart. Sergio's hair was wavy and just a bit shorter than Avery's, whose pigment-less locks fell below his waist. Sergio's was constantly transitioning between the spectrums of yellow to red, and dark brown, sometimes it was a lovely auburn color, sometimes it looked a pale yellow blond, and sometimes it was a light brown. That depended on his mood.

Over the ten years Ariel had spent with them, he'd gotten to know them in so many ways, so well. And they had gotten to know him just as much, both in mind. . . And body. Not only that, but they had pampered him a lot during the first two years, buying him gifts, giving him baths, taking him anywhere he wanted, anytime. They'd wanted Ariel to forget the sad emptiness that had plagued his 8 years. They wanted to make him happy.

And so far, they were doing a decent job.

Daylight seeped through the glass windows, illuminating the kitchen where Sergio stood in a homely apron, flipping pancakes. His wavy hair was a honey-golden color, made into a low ponytail. He sweetly hummed a soft tune.

Avery was sitting formally cross-legged on a barstool, an arm on the kitchen island. His white-gloved hand was holding up his head and the other was tamely on his lap. He wore the snowy turtleneck Ariel had picked out for him the last time they'd gone shopping together, with a pair of black jeans. After much time and debate, Avery had finally added a new color to his closet besides white. He could thank Ariel for that.

"Breakfast's ready. Mind calling Ari for me?" Sergio glanced toward Ansel who had been busily engaged in a game of table ping-pong with the wall.

"Okay!" He said enthusiastically. The black-haired one hit the ball last time and it successfully burrowed itself a hole in there. Just like 5 other ping-pong balls.

As Ansel walked up the grand staircase he felt the air around him thicken. It became tense with a heat that could turn on even the most lax of dicks. He tersely swallowed before opening the door to Ariel's room. Even having prepared himself for it, he was still surprised by the sudden wave of desire that hit him. It was almost oppressing. Ansel's salivary glands were going crazy, and he gulped more than once.

The atmosphere in Ariel's room was even more sexually charged than usual, and it was barely 9AM. He was getting stronger by the day. He found Ariel's ass first, barely covered by the t-shirt which was the only thing he had on. The boy was searching for something under his desk table, and it was sticking up sexily, showcasing the plump, ripe mounds of flesh and the untouched secret spot in between.

Instantly, Ansel's dick was up, visibly erect through his jeans. The head would probably be level with his navel if he took it out. 'Holy fuck...' He thought as he tried his best to hold his breath and clear his head of all the sinful things he wanted to do with that ass.

Ariel later sensed him, his head was about to bump the table as he got up, but Ansel quickly cushioned it with his hand, saving him the pain. After thanking him, Ariel got up. "I found my old Blinking Lights CD! Can you believe this??"

Blinking Lights was a pop band Ariel really loved. He'd lost that CD a while back and got cutely sulky because of that.

"That's great," Ansel rubbed the boy's head, loving the way he cringed as if he didn't like it. "I still think The Coal Miners are better, but, whatever. Breakfast's waiting for ya."

The stubborn Ariel scowled. "As if TCM could ever match up with Blinking Lights—in your wet dreams maybe! Stop messing up my hair, we've talked about this!"

"But you're so cute when you're pretending to be frustrated. . ."

Ariel didn't have anything to say to that, so he let his hair be ruffled while he stared down with an adorably sexy pout. He noticed the bulge in Ansel's pants.

"A-Ans, you're hard."

Ansel grunted, turning away not in shame but to take himself a few steps away from Ariel. The pent-up pressure was starting to hurt. "Yeah. . . Don't worry about it."

Ariel's voice got teary. "S-sorry... It's all my fault—"

"Hey, head up. It's fine. I'm fine, so don't blame yourself okay?"

Looking into his protector's eyes clouded with passion he couldn't control, Ariel blamed himself more than anything. "I can help you... With it... If you want,"

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