Hey, you.
Today’s story is an excerpt from the JHW vault: Twin Temptation, a cuck & leather romance where loyalty gets tested under the weight of a brother’s boots. I’ve included a brief synopsis to get you up to speed.
If this bit makes you sweat… maybe I’ll release more.
—JHW
Synopsis
Leatherman Jeff is devoted to his husband Deacon, but he finds his loyalties tested when Deacon’s estranged twin, Dominic, returns to town. Deacon and Dominic are identical in appearance, but where Deacon is gentle and submissive, Dominic radiates effortless dominance, something Jeff has secretly longed for but never received from his husband.
Excerpt: In His Brother’s Boots
Jeff turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Usually, he was immediately greeted by the sound of Deacon’s voice, the clatter of pots from the kitchen, or the faint strains of some old jazz record drifting through the rooms. Tonight, there was nothing.
He set his keys in the dish by the door and shrugged off his jacket. The air in the house carried a faint, unmistakable tang. At first, he thought he had imagined it, but no. Drifting on the cool stillness was the dark, earthy scent of leather. They had so much gear tucked away in the spare bedroom, it was impossible not to live with a background trace of it, but this was fresh and alive—the heady scent of gear warmed by skin.Jeff frowned. Deacon hadn’t said he would be home late. He’d just toed off his boots when he heard something soft and metallic coming from the hallway—the tiny rasp of a zipper, quickly stilled. His chest tightened. He told himself it was just Deacon reorganizing the racks again, fussing over the collection they had amassed over years of patient searching. An entire bedroom full of jackets, trousers, caps, and gloves, every piece a chapter in their shared life, and a second skin they had slipped into again and again, renewing vows in the language of leather.
The hallway seemed to stretch longer than usual as Jeff walked toward the spare bedroom. He passed the framed photo from their wedding day of Jeff in his tailored black tux with Deacon beaming at his side. Fifteen years of marriage and loyalty. A lifetime built on trust.
And yet, the scent grew stronger the closer he came. It wasn’t the soft, broken-in must of leather cared for lovingly by Deacon. It was bolder and more aggressive. Jeff reached the bedroom door, his hand hovering just over the knob. The faintest creak of floorboards came from within, followed by silence again, as though someone was listening and waiting for him.
He opened the door.
Dominic turned toward him. The sight was so wrong, so implausible, that Jeff’s first instinct was to think his mind was playing tricks. But no, the overhead light struck him clearly enough.
Dominic was dressed head to toe in Deacon’s leathers. The Muir cap sat on his brow at a rakish angle, the polished peak catching the glow. The black motorcycle jacket hugged his torso, creaking faintly as he shifted, the zipper gleaming like a blade. Long gauntlet gloves encased his hands, the heavy cuffs riding up his forearms, and when he flexed his fingers, the leather whispered in deep, resonant groans. Deacon’s prized boots, polished to a mirror finish, rose nearly to Dominic’s knees. At his throat, a thin red leather tie cut down his chest, a single splash of color that made the whole look seem even more dangerous.
Dominic smirked. “I found my brother’s secret gear stash.”
Jeff opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The air in the room grew thick, almost choking. It was Deacon’s body—Deacon’s height, Deacon’s green eyes, Deacon’s familiar frame—but animated by a brazen, unyielding attitude. His husband had worn that same gear countless times, but never like this. Never with such authority.
Jeff forced his voice out. “Take it off. That’s not yours.”
Dominic didn’t move. Instead, he lifted one gloved hand and crooked a finger. A single, beckoning gesture, lazy but commanding. Jeff’s legs felt heavy, yet he stepped forward without knowing quite why. The scent hit him harder now, leather layered with a musky tang that wasn’t Deacon’s. Dominic’s was heady and sharp. Intoxicating. It made Jeff’s pulse race.
“You’ve been collecting this stuff for years,” Dominic said, running a gloved hand over a row of jackets on hangers. “And all this time, you’ve been waiting for someone to wear it right.”
Jeff’s throat went dry. The words should have enraged him. Instead, they sank in like hooks. His knees wavered; a part of him longed to kneel, to give into his brother-in-law’s impossible gravity. But he clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms, as he fought to stay upright.
The room seemed even smaller now, the air thick with leather and Dominic’s presence. Jeff’s heart pounded against his ribs, torn between loyalty to the man he loved and the magnetic pull of his mirror image. Jeff’s command—take it off—still hung in the air, but Dominic only smirked. He closed the space between them, step by deliberate step, the tall boots clicking against the hardwood. Each creak of leather seemed amplified into a chorus of domination.
Dominic stopped close enough that Jeff could feel the radiating warmth from the jacket. The scent of rich leather and musk was inescapable. Deacon had always carried a familiar gentleness of cedar and soap, but Dominic smelled like danger, like midnight streets and dark rooms where rules and boundaries dissolved into service and sweat.
Jeff swallowed hard. His body wanted to bow. To yield. He locked his knees, fighting the treacherous urge.
“Deek could never make it work,” Dominic murmured. “The gear always wore him, didn’t it? But me? I own it.”
Jeff shook his head, though weakly. “This—this isn’t yours.” It was all he could think to say.
Dominic raised a gloved hand, sliding the edge of one finger down Jeff’s chest, over his sternum, drawing a line of hot pressure through the cotton of Jeff’s shirt. Then, with the same hand, he caught Jeff’s saw in a firm grip, forcing his eyes up. Green eyes, the same shade Jeff had loved for fifteen years, stared back at him, but sharper. Hungrier.
The kiss came suddenly and uncompromisingly. Dominic pressed his mouth against Jeff’s, lips firm and masterful. Jeff stiffened, resisting—at least he told himself he was. His hands rose, but they didn’t push Dominic away. They hovered, uncertain. His lips stayed sealed for a heartbeat.
But only a heartbeat.
Something inside him cracked. The dam broke. Jeff parted his mouth, answering the kiss with heat and a hunger he hadn’t expected to feel. His tongue met Dominic’s, tentative at first, then with mounting urgency. The kiss grew rough and messy as Jeff’s body betrayed him. He leaned into the contact, his erection growing in his jeans, even as his mind screamed no. When they finally broke apart, Jeff’s breath was ragged. He hated himself for how much he wanted more.
Dominic studied him with satisfaction. “Perfunctory resistance,” he said, almost amused. “That’s all you had.”
Jeff wanted to argue, but his chest still heaved, his lips tingled, and his voice wouldn’t come. He had kissed his husband’s twin, in his husband’s leathers, and wanted it again.
Dominic didn’t give Jeff space to recover. While Jeff still reeled from the kiss, Dominic stepped even closer, boots braced wide, the leather jacket brushing Jeff’s chest. He filled the room, filled Jeff’s senses, until there was no air left to draw.
Then, suddenly, a gloved hand shot down and seized him. Jeff gasped, the sound ripped from his throat before he could stifle it. The thick leather grip closed over his crotch and squeezed, merciless and possessive. He staggered back a half step, but Dominic only followed, clamping tighter, his thumb pressing in hard through the denim until Jeff’s knees nearly buckled.
The humiliation burned hot and electric. No one had ever touched him like this, certainly not with such casual ownership. He wanted to shove Dominic away and assert how wrong this was. Instead, his body betrayed him. The gasp became a groan, shame and arousal tangled in the same breath.
Dominic’s smirk widened. His lips hovered near Jeff’s ear. “You and my brother both,” he said, squeezing once more for emphasis, “will be locked in chastity before long.”
The words landed even heavier than the grip. Chastity. It rang in Jeff’s head like a verdict. He pictured the cage, the denial, husband and husband kept under Dominic’s control. The thought horrified him. The thought thrilled him.
He shuddered, torn in two. Loyalty. Desire. Deacon. Dominic. Husband. Stranger. The distinctions blurred until he could no longer trust his own body. His hips thrust forward into Dominic’s grip, and his head bowed just enough to betray the truth. Dominic’s heady, rich scent filled his lungs.
“You feel it. Don’t bother denying it.” Dominic’s voice was steel wrapped in silk. “You’ve wanted this. You wanted Deek to be stronger. Harder. You’ve wanted… me.”
Jeff’s hands finally moved, but not to push away. They clutched at Dominic’s jacket—it was Dominic’s jacket now—fingers curling into the creaking leather, as though to steady himself against drowning. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak.
Dominic released him suddenly, the grip gone as swiftly as it had come. Jeff staggered back, chest heaving, staring at the man before him. His husband’s face stared back, identical and yet utterly different.
Dominic adjusted the red tie with a slow, deliberate tug, then slid one finger across his own lips, a silent reminder of the kiss Jeff had surrendered to. He didn’t need to press further tonight. The crack had been made. The rest would follow.
Jeff remained in the doorway, trembling, heart racing, knowing he should flee, or fight, or do anything but stand there. And yet he stayed rooted, transfixed, caught between guilt and desire, loyalty and betrayal.
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Very nice short story. I would love to see more about how Dom takes his brother and Jeff under his control.