Mark 1

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you since I entered the academy,” Mark whispered, leaning in close enough that his warm breath brushed Max’s ear.

His voice stayed bright and friendly, perfectly suited to the merchant’s natural charisma, but Max caught the hidden glint of hunger in those blue eyes.

Max remained perfectly still, the cold, aristocratic mask never cracking. He remembered the Sunset Merchants Guild caravan vividly—the long, dusty journey where Mark’s entire family had been relocating to open a new branch in the capital. The father was the mature, slightly older mirror of Mark: same handsome features, same silver tongue. The mother was a quiet, hourglass-shaped MILF whose plump, juicy ass rivaled Max’s own in sculpt and softness; she had been the one to secretly fund Mark’s travels. And then there was Otto—Mark’s older brother.

Otto was the family’s strange anomaly. Years ago, during a family outing near ancient elven ruins, he had been struck by a lingering life-curse. Despite being the eldest son and chronologically older than Mark, the curse had locked his body into a deceptively youthful, almost childlike “shota” appearance. To the untrained eye he looked barely into his teens, small and slender with an innocent face that fooled everyone. Only his family knew the truth, and even they sometimes treated him like the baby of the house. But Otto was anything but innocent. His mind was sharp, devious, and endlessly scheming. He used that surprise factor like a weapon—manipulating others with wide-eyed charm while hiding a predator’s lust behind those boyish features.

Max had noticed the way Otto’s gaze lingered on his ass during the caravan trip, burning with barely concealed hunger. The older brother hid it far less skillfully than Mark did. The love of a perfect, round ass clearly ran deep in the family line: the father had fallen for the mother’s, and now both sons were fixated on Max’s.

Mark kept talking in that sunny, effortless tone, smiling as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. “After this welcome speech, why don’t I take you to see the new mansion my family moved into? It’s huge—plenty of rooms, private gardens, the works. You’ll love it.”

The invitation dripped with hidden intent. Max could feel the lust radiating off the handsome merchant like heat from a forge. He guessed the entire family shared the same weakness for his body, and the thought sent a quiet thrill through the God of Lust’s blessing nestled in his core.

“Sure,” Max replied in his cool, noble voice, detached and commanding even in a whisper. “The speech is about to end soon. I’ll leave with you then.”

Mark’s eyes lit up with genuine excitement, though the hunger beneath it never faded. He was popular with plenty of girls and boys back home thanks to his looks and charisma, yet he—and his father, and apparently his older brother—had all fixated on Max’s plump, juicy ass like it was the rarest treasure in the kingdom.

During the caravan journey, only the quiet mother had noticed the way the men in her family stared. She was soft-spoken but far from stupid; she had seen the lust simmering whenever Max walked past. Now Mark was practically vibrating beside him.

The headmaster’s speech droned on—standard academy fare about excellence, personal growth, and the freedom to pursue one’s path. It was a sleeping draught for most of the students. After half an hour of polite boredom, Mark could no longer wait. He gave Max a quick, conspiratorial grin and slipped out of the auditorium to prepare the family carriage, promising to wait at the academy entrance.

When the welcome ceremony finally ended, the hall erupted in relieved cheers from the bored first-years. Students spilled out in groups—some rushing to teachers with questions, others heading straight back to their dorms to study, and still more forming social connections with anyone who looked useful. Max rose gracefully, robe swaying, and made his way toward the entrance. He remained the cool loner; only Darren, Mark, and the caravan students truly knew him. Unless someone wanted to fuck him senseless, he had no interest in small talk. Darren’s bold ass-grabbing had been a rare and delicious exception.

Mark and his family, however, were different. They were talented—Mark and Otto both possessed genuine magical potential that could one day elevate their merchant house into minor nobility if they played their cards right. And right now, they were a very large, very promising pool of “magical experience” for the God of Lust’s blessing.

Max reached the academy gates and spotted Mark waiting beside a luxurious carriage. The handsome blonde had changed into finer clothes, dressed like he was on a date, waving cheerfully. In contrast to Max’s icy noble poise, Mark shone like the sun itself—bright, warm, and impossible to ignore.

As Max approached, Mark stepped forward with a bright smile and placed a hand on the small of his back, “helping” him into the carriage. His fingers slid lower, boldly cupping one plump ass cheek through the thin robe and pants. The touch lingered, possessive and hungry. Mark froze for a heartbeat, struck still by the perfect softness and warmth, the hidden lust nearly boiling over in public. This was the difference between the brothers: Mark hid his desire well, but his older brother Otto wore his on his sleeve—those scheming eyes always devouring Max’s ass like he couldn’t wait to claim it.

Max said nothing, his aristocratic mask never wavering. But inside, the blessing hummed with anticipation. The day was only beginning, and the Sunset family mansion promised far more than a simple tour.