Risky Dirty Games

Chapter 1- Knowing Your Digits

"Damon!" he distantly heard someone yelled out his name. He slowly cracked open an eye and saw his younger brother trespassing his personal space. Damon inwardly cursed to himself for forgetting to lock the door again.

"Ugh, boundaries, Chuck. We've gone over this, waking me up is a sure way of losing an eye or two." Damon groaned and pushed his overbearing brother away. Couldn't a man get a minute to himself? He decided to ignore the clock on the wall of his office signaling that he'd indeed been asleep for the past three hours.

"You're right, we have gone over this but the fact that you keep on forgetting that you're at work cancels it out. You cannot just take random naps in the middle of the day! We're also talking about my legacy here, I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you ruin what our father worked so hard at creating!" Chuck yelled. He was starting to get to the end of his rope when it came to his older brother's antics.

Damon sighed. He knew this was coming, the grand speech about "their legacy." As the youngest CEO of a multimillion dollar company in the US at 23, Damon Archer Creed was both as infamous as he was tired. If it wasn't the press hounding him, it was his little brother yapping righteously in his ear. That boy must have been born with a halo glued on to his head, Damon mused to himself.

Chuck Timothy Creed , 21, was the second biggest shareholder of Phantomhive Empire, and they often came to blows on how to handle the family business. Perseus Creed, their late father, passed the company down to his eldest son as the tradition required. This, however, did not please his younger and arguably more competent son.

"Aren't you ever scared that one day you'll really grow wings out of your back and join the rest of the angelic kind upstairs?" Damon smirked.

"If it means you'll be far, far away from me, I'm looking forward to it."

"Ouch, younger brother. That really hurt." Damon shook his head and held his hand up to his heart in mock-dismay.

"Damon, I'm serious." Chuck pleaded with his eyes. He'd grown tired of watching his brother throw away what had been given to him on a silver platter.

"So am I. As a heart attack."

"Please, just tell me what's going on. Don't even try to convince me that something isn't bugging you. It's written all over your goddamn face. You have always been a classic dick bordering on to the psychotic but lately you had been crossing more and more on the psychotic avenue." Damon had to look down as his brother went on and on, as he usually did. Despite his annoyance with Chuck, he had to admit his brother was right. Chuck often had a way of understanding Damon's eccentricities like no one else. The irony.

Damon glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall behind Chuck. He was a good looking man to say the least.

His jawline was sharply defined, as was the rest of his bone structure. His body was lean, looking perfect in crisp black suits which emphasized his arm muscles. Damon's eyes though... They were something else. They were impossibly blue with a hint of silver in them, framed by long black lashes. He has god-like features. If being that attractive is a sin, he'll be damned in the depths of Tartarus for sure.

Chuck couldn't have anticipated what came out of Damon's mouth next.

"I won't judge, I promise. Whatever it is, I'll help you so we can finally get back to business." Chuck said.

"It's been a while." Damon stated simply.

"Come again?"

"What I just said. It's. Been. A. While." Damon gritted out through his teeth. This was awkward enough without his brother playing dumb. Chuck's face lit up as he finally realized what his brother meant.