POV: Ezra Maddox (Elias)
Three weeks of watching his brother circle Avery like a moon around a planet. Three weeks of soft words, lingering glances, and absolutely no fucking progress.
Ezra was bored. More than bored he was offended. Leo had the object of his obsession isolated, vulnerable, practically begging for someone to hold him, and what did he do? He played therapist. He leaned against walls and spoke in gentle tones about loneliness.
It was pathetic.
The rose was in full bloom, ready to be plucked, and Leo just wanted to stand there and admire it.
Fine. If Leo wouldn't act, Ezra would act for him. Not with violence this time. With something more elegant. A gift wrapped in chaos.
The idea came to him while watching Avery through the art studio window that same spot where he'd photographed them weeks ago. Avery was alone, sketching, head bowed. So beautiful in his unknowing.
Leo was somewhere in the building, probably composing another poetic text he'd never send.
Ezra smiled. He knew exactly what to do.
The preparation took two weeks. Patience wasn't his strength, but for this for the look on Leo's face when he woke up he could wait.
First, he needed access. Not to Avery's apartment too many variables, too much risk of interruption. He needed neutral ground. A place where two people could... connect without the world intruding.
The art wing's storage room. Off the main studio, rarely used, filled with dusty props and forgotten easels. It had a couch. An old, ugly thing, but serviceable. And most importantly, a lock on the door that could be easily manipulated from the outside.
He spent a week preparing the space. Cleaning. Adding soft lighting from a battery-operated lamp. A bottle of water on the small table, already opened, already treated. He didn't need much just enough to lower inhibitions, to blur the sharp edges of fear and hesitation.
He chose a Friday. Prom was two weeks away. The timing felt right Avery would be at his most vulnerable, watching others prepare for a normalcy he couldn't reach. Leo would be at his most frustrated, watching Avery slip further into melancholy without being able to bridge the gap.
Perfect emotional weather for a storm.
The day arrived cold and gray, rain tapping against windows like impatient fingers.
Ezra put his plan in motion at 3:47 PM.
He found Avery first, in the art studio, alone as always. The boy was packing up, movements slow, shoulders heavy with a weight Ezra could practically taste.
"Hey," Ezra said, leaning in the doorway. He kept his voice casual, friendly. The mask of the harmless brother. "Leo's looking for you. Said something about... your sketchbook? He found something of yours in the storage room. Asked me to bring you."
Avery looked up, confusion flickering across those perfect features. "My sketchbook? I have it right..." He looked down at his bag, then back up. "I mean, I guess I could have left one..."
Ezra shrugged, easy. "Dunno. He just said to meet him there. Storage room off the main studio." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I'd take you, but I've got to run. Chloe thing." He rolled his eyes, playing the put-upon brother.
Avery hesitated. Ezra could see the wariness, the suspicion. But beneath it, something else a flicker of curiosity. Of hope, maybe. That Leo had reached out. That someone wanted to give him something.
"Okay," Avery said quietly. "Thanks."
Ezra smiled. "No problem."
He watched Avery walk toward the storage room, then pulled out his phone.
To Leo: Storage room. Now!! Emergency. Avery's in trouble.
He sent it, then moved to his position a janitor's closet across the hall, door cracked, phone camera ready. Not to film anything explicit. Just proof for his job well done
The lock on the storage room door was already set to engage automatically once closed. A simple magnetic trigger. He'd tested it a dozen times.
Now, he waited.
POV: Avery Knox
The storage room door was slightly ajar. Avery pushed it open, peering inside.
"Leo?"
No answer. The room was dim, lit by a soft lamp on a table. A couch. A bottle of water. No Leo.
He stepped inside, confused. "Hello?"
The door clicked shut behind him. He spun, heart jumping but it was just the old hinge, settling. He tried the handle. It turned. Not locked. He exhaled, shaky.
Maybe Leo wasn't here yet. Maybe he should wait.
The room was weirdly cozy for a storage space. Someone had cleaned it. The couch looked old but not dirty. The lamp gave off a warm glow.
He sat on the edge of the couch, bag in his lap, waiting.
POV: Leo Maddox
Leo's heart stopped when Ezra's text came through. Avery in trouble.
He ran. Didn't question. Didn't think. Just ran, through halls, down stairs, toward the art wing.
He burst through the studio door, saw the storage room light, and yanked the handle.
Locked.
"Avery!" He pounded on the door. "Avery, are you in there?"
A muffled voice from inside. "Leo? I'm here, the door..."
"It's locked? Can you open it from your side?"
A pause. Then, quieter: "I... I don't know. I tried, it turned but... it won't open."
Leo's blood ran cold. A trap. Someone had trapped them.
He pulled out his phone. No signal. Of course. The art wing basement was a dead zone.
"Avery, listen to me." He kept his voice calm, controlled. "We're going to get out. I'll find help. Just stay calm."
Silence from inside. Then, a small voice: "You're... you're not leaving me in here alone?"
The vulnerability in those words cut through Leo's panic like a blade. Avery was scared. And he was asking Leo not to abandon him.
"I'm not leaving you," Leo said, the words coming from somewhere deeper than strategy. "I'm right here. We're in this together."
He leaned against the door, forehead pressed to the wood. He could feel the vibration of Avery's presence on the other side. So close. Trapped together.
The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd spent months engineering proximity, and now fateor someone had delivered it in the most literal way possible.
POV: Ezra Maddox
Through the crack in the janitor's closet door, Ezra watched his brother press against the locked storage room. Watched him promise not to leave. Watched the tension in his shoulders slowly ease as acceptance set in.
The trap was perfect. The door would unlock automatically at midnight plenty of time. The bottle of water was inside. The air was warm. The couch was soft.
He lowered his phone, the video saved. He didn't need to watch what happened next. The setup was complete. The actors were in place.
Whatever occurred in that room would be between them. Ezra had done his part forced the proximity, removed the barriers, blurred the lines of consent with chemistry and circumstance.
Whether Leo used the gift or wasted it was up to him.
Ezra slipped out of the school, the rain cool on his face. He lit a cigarette, savoring the burn.
"Happy birthday, brother," he murmured to the empty parking lot. "Don't say I never gave you anything."
POV: Leo Maddox
Twenty minutes passed. They'd talked through the door at first, then settled into silence. Leo's phone was dead. The hallway was dark and cold. He could hear Avery shifting on the other side, small sounds of discomfort.
"Leo?" Avery's voice was different now. Slower. Softer.
"Yeah?"
"I'm... I'm really thirsty. There's water in here but..." A pause. "It tastes weird. Kind of metallic."
Leo's blood went cold. "Don't drink it."
"I already had some. Before you came. I was thirsty."
Panic, sharp and immediate. "Avery, listen to me. Something's wrong. That water..."
"I know." Avery's voice was dreamy now, distant. "I know something's wrong. But I'm not... I'm not scared anymore. Is that weird?"
Leo's mind raced. A drug. Someone had put something in the water. Someone wanted them trapped here, wanted Avery compromised...
"I don't want to be alone," Avery murmured. "Leo? Are you still there?"
"I'm here."
"The door. Can you... can you try the door again?"
Leo, desperate, grabbed the handle and pulled. This time, it turned. The door swung open.
Avery was on the couch, curled on his side, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused. He looked up at Leo with an expression that held no fear, only a confused, vulnerable openness.
"Hi," he whispered.
Leo stood frozen in the doorway, every cell in his body screaming at the wrongness of this, the manipulation, the violation. But beneath that, something darker stirred the hunger he'd kept caged for so long, now facing its object in a state of perfect, defenseless surrender.
He should leave. He should carry Avery out, get him help, find whoever did this and...
"Don't go." Avery reached out, hand flopping weakly toward him. "Please. I don't want to be alone."
The words were a key turning in the deepest lock of Leo's soul. He stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Not locking it. Just... closing.
He knelt beside the couch, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Avery's flushed skin. "Avery. You're not yourself. Someone drugged you."
"I know." Avery's smile was slow, dreamy. "But I still know what I want."
"And what's that?"
Avery's glassy eyes met his. "To not be scared. Just for one night. To feel like someone wants me. Really wants me. Not the idea of me."
The confession was so raw, so honest, it shattered something in Leo's carefully constructed control. All his plans, his patience, his grand designs none of it mattered in this moment. There was only this boy, this room, this impossible, stolen chance.
"Avery," he breathed, the name a prayer and a confession.
Avery's hand found his, fingers curling weakly around his wrist. "Stay. Please."
The drug lowered inhibitions. Leo knew that. Avery might not mean this tomorrow. Might hate him for it. Might never forgive the circumstance or the violation.
But in this moment, in this room, with those eyes looking at him like he was the answer to every silent prayer, Leo Maddox made his choice.
He leaned down, slow, giving Avery every chance to pull away. Avery didn't pull away. His eyes fluttered closed, lips parting.
The kiss was soft. Tentative. A question, not a demand.
Avery made a small sound, surprised and soft, and his hand tightened on Leo's wrist.
When Leo pulled back, Avery's eyes were open again, hazy but warm.
"More?" Leo whispered.
Avery nodded, a tiny, trusting movement.
And Leo, for the first time in his life, stopped planning and started living the moment that would define everything.
Leo's hand slid to the back of Avery's neck, fingers threading through damp hair. The angle was awkward couch, knees on hard floor so he shifted, one knee between Avery's thighs, leaning over him like a drawn bow.
"Tell me if you want to stop," Leo said. "Even mid‑kiss. Even mid‑anything. Say my name and I stop."
Avery blinked up at him, slow and trustful. "Leo."
"That's not a stop."
"No." Avery's hand came up, clumsy but certain, fisting in Leo's shirt. "That's yes."
Leo kissed him again. Deeper this time. Open‑mouthed and hungry, tasting the metallic edge of the drug on Avery's tongue, hating it even as it made Avery pliant and warm beneath him. He'd hate himself later. He knew that. But later wasn't now.
Now was Avery gasping into his mouth, arching up, hips pressing against Leo's thigh like a reflex he couldn't control.
"Easy," Leo murmured against his lips.
"Don't want easy." Avery's voice was thick, wrecked already. "Want you."
Leo's control cracked.
He pulled back just long enough to yank his own shirt over his head. Avery watched, pupils blown, lips red and wet. Then Leo's hands were on Avery's waist, sliding under his sweater, pushing fabric up over ribs, over the soft plane of his stomach.
"Cold," Avery whispered as cool air hit his skin.
"I'll warm you up."
Leo ducked his head, pressed his mouth to the hollow of Avery's throat. Sucked gently. Avery's whole body shuddered, a broken sound falling from his lips. Leo did it again, harder, marking him without permission, and Avery's hands flew to Leo's shoulders, gripping like he'd fall otherwise.
"Leo..."
"I know." Leo kissed down his sternum, tongue tracing a line to one nipple. He circled it lazily, watching Avery's face. The way his mouth fell open. The way his hips canted up, seeking friction.
"Please," Avery breathed.
"What do you need?"
"You. Inside me. I don't care how. Just please."
The drug had stripped away Avery's shyness, left only want. Raw and unguarded. Leo's cock throbbed in his jeans, painful now, but he forced himself to go slow. He'd die before he hurt Avery.
He found lube in the nightstand drawer this room had been prepared for something, but not this, never this and slicked his fingers. Worked Avery open with agonizing patience. One finger. Two. Crooked them just right, and Avery sobbed, back bowing off the couch.
"There," Leo said. "There, sweetheart."
"More. Leo, more."
Three fingers. Stretching. Avery was gasping, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, not from pain but from too much and not enough at once.
When Leo finally pulled his fingers free, Avery made a sound of loss. But then Leo was pushing his jeans down, lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing against that tight, slick heat.
"Look at me," Leo said.
Avery's glassy eyes found his.
"I'm not him," Leo said. "I'm not anyone who's ever used you. Say you know that."
"I know." Avery's hand cupped Leo's cheek, trembling but sure. "I know, Leo. Please. I want you."
Leo pushed in.
Slow. So slow it burned them both. Avery's mouth opened on a silent cry, legs wrapping around Leo's waist, heels digging into his lower back. When Leo was fully seated, buried to the hilt, he stopped. Let Avery adjust. Let himself breathe.
"You're so deep," Avery whispered, wonder in his drugged voice.
"You're so tight." Leo kissed the corner of his mouth. "Okay?"
"Better than okay. Move. Please."
Leo moved.
Slow strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out, sliding back in like a tide. Avery clutched him, nails raking down his back, leaving welts Leo would feel tomorrow. Would want to feel.
"Harder," Avery gasped. "I won't break."
But Leo was afraid he might. Not Avery's body his heart. His trust. The thing that would shatter in the morning when the drug faded and reality rushed back in.
So Leo kept it gentle. Kept his rhythm deep and rolling, one hand tangled in Avery's hair, the other gripping his hip. He watched Avery's face the whole time the way pleasure washed over his drugged haze, the way his mouth formed Leo's name over and over.
When Avery came, it was quiet. A surprised, punched‑out sound, body clenching around Leo, spilling warm between their stomachs. His eyes stayed on Leo's the whole time.
That undid Leo.
He buried his face in Avery's neck, thrust twice more, and spilled inside him with a groan that was almost a sob. Shaking. Holding Avery like he was the only real thing left in the world.
For a long moment, nothing moved. Then Avery's hand came up, weak but deliberate, and stroked Leo's hair.
"Thank you," Avery whispered.
Leo lifted his head. "Don't thank me. You were drugged."
"I know what I wanted." Avery's eyes were already drifting closed, the drug pulling him toward sleep. "I wanted you. I've wanted you for months."
Leo kissed his forehead. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
POV: Ezra Maddox
At 2 AM, his phone buzzed. A notification from the motion sensor in the storage room. The door had opened.
He watched the live feed from the camera he'd hidden in the hallway vent. Leo emerged first, looking disheveled, his shirt untucked. He turned back, reaching into the room.
A moment later, Avery appeared, leaning heavily on Leo, wrapped in what looked like Leo's jacket. His face was soft, relaxed in a way Ezra had never seen. Not drugged-relaxed. Something else. Something peaceful.
Leo guided him down the hall, arm around his waist, protective, possessive. Avery didn't flinch from his touch.
Ezra smiled, slow and satisfied, and closed the app.
The garden was planted. The rose had been touched. There was no going back now.
Whatever happened next whether Avery woke grateful or horrified, whether Leo became hero or villain Ezra had made it possible. He'd given his brother the gift of action.
He lit another cigarette, watching the rain streak the window of his apartment.
"You're welcome, Leo," he said to the empty room. "Now don't fuck it up."