Perfect.
His little brother was perfect, and it tortured him. Day in, day out, he was forced to interact with perfection, to gaze into gorgeous red eyes and conceal his growing lust, and all because of their blood relation.
The desire to take him was beyond words. Lysandre knew it was wrong on several accounts, but his desires were unmoved by this information.
He's too young, his mind would correctly observe, usually somewhere between unbuttoning his trousers and climax. His obsession was a far more powerful force than his willpower, and he so longed to touch that pale skin, to taste…
"Brother?" Ghetsis' soft, faintly concerned voice reminded him where he was, and he swiftly forced the usual fantasies out of his mind. Lysandre supposed it was just as well – Father was suspicious of him enough without him becoming visibly aroused at the dining table.
"Sorry, I was daydreaming," Lysandre said, smiling at the gorgeous little boy. He felt the usual ache when Ghetsis returned it, and was almost relieved when his brother turned his attention back to their father. He frequently cursed whichever gods might have existed over those alluring red eyes; his mind was instantly back in the gutter, envisioning Ghetsis naked beneath him, crimson gaze tearful as he slid inside—
Lysandre sighed, willing the fantasies out of his mind for five goddamn minutes. He knew he couldn't act them out without dying, and he was rational enough to value his life over sex…it would just be a lot easier if his loins would cooperate.
Maybe when he's older, he told himself, tuning in to whatever his perfect little brother was discussing with Father. It usually kept the deviant thoughts away for long enough.