Chapter Eight
Adam
Adam didn't move when his bedroom dooropenedand someone slipped inside. The landing outside his door was as dark as it was inside of his room. The only source of light came from a thin sliver of moonlight that slipped beneath the closed window blinds. There wasn't enough light to see who had entered. He heard the soft click of the door closing.
"Who is it?" he whispered, as his heart started to thunder in his chest.
"Sssshh."
Adam sat up, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to discover the identity of his visitor. Whoever it was sat on the end of the bed. Their hand slipped beneath the quilt to stroke Adam's ankle. Soft skin brushed against his, making his leg hairs stand on end. His breathing quickened. His visitor turned back the quilt and joined Adam on the bed, so their bodies were pressed against each other. The hand inched up his leg, over his knee and across his thigh. He hissed in a breath as smooth lips pressed firmly against his. He let his visitor tease his lips apart and revelled in the sensation of their tongues exploring one another.
He groaned against his visitor's mouth and whispered, "Who are you?"
"Don't speak."
It was Luc. Adam's heart stilled. Luc's hand trailed up and snuck beneath his boxers, stroking his cock.
Adam woke, gasping for air. His dick was painfully hard. Normally, if he woke up with a hard-on, he'd grab some lube and jack himself off, but this time he couldn't bring himself to move, let alone touch himself. He'd been dreaming about Luc. His stepbrother. He flexed his fingers, allowing the fresh burst of pain to remind him how he'd hurt his hand. How could he be dreaming about Luc? About kissing him and being touched by him? He shuddered. In his dream, he'd been enjoying it, but he hadn't known who it was; not at first.
He sat up and dragged his hands over his face. He was shaking and felt cold all over. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy. It was disgusting. The thought of kissing his brother and being fondled by him was disgusting. And yet... he was sporting wood that suggested his subconscious mind felt completely different.
He'd never thought of Luc in that way before. They were brothers. The idea of thinking about Luc on any other level repulsed him; didn't it? After that dream, he just didn't know anymore.
He got out of bed and headed to the top floor bathroom, not caring that it was probably still the middle of the night. Normally, he was the only one using it, but currently there were traces of Luc everywhere. The extra toothbrush and the different brand of toothpaste. The black pot of shaving foam and the expensive looking safety razor, which made his supermarket brand disposable one look tatty. The aftershave that smelt slightly spicy. Christ, when had he started to notice what Luc's aftershave smelt like? Had his mind taken note and filed it away, deep within his subconscious?
He stripped his boxers off and turned the shower on to the coldest setting. He gasped as he stepped under the jet of water. Ice-cold needles pounded against his skin, making his chest clench and his muscles tense up. He didn't turn the heat up, even when his teeth began to chatter loudly, making his skull rattle. He bore the discomfort until his dick was soft and limp. Even then, he didn't turn the temperature up, he just turned the shower off and grabbed a towel to dry himself with.
He was still shivering as he pulled his boxers back on and walked back to his bedroom. His gaze grazed over Luc's door. Was his brother sleeping, or had the shower woken him up? Was he asleep and dreaming of him? Adam's stomach churned. He shouldn't even be thinking such things. The cold shower was supposed to have driven those kinds of thoughts far out of his head.
He headed back to bed, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Luc and his dark, piercing eyes bore into him as he'd confessed his feelings.
"I wanted you then and I still want you now."
Those words swam through Adam's mind, taunting him. How could his stepbrother desire him? Everything was so fucked up. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to face Luc again, knowing what he did. But in the morning, he'd have to go downstairs and have breakfast with him and their parents and pretend that everything was normal. But it wasn't. It wasn't normal for someone to want to be intimate with their own brother; even a stepbrother. It was wrong. Every fibre of his being told Adam it was wrong, but he still couldn't push the thoughts of Luc from his mind.
He pressed his palms hard against his closed eyes, trying to force Luc's image away. But he couldn't. Luc was still there, staring at him.
"I wanted you then and I still want you now."
His voice continued playing in Adam's mind like a broken record and the memory of Luc's touch—even though it had only been a dream—seemed to have left a trail of desire winding up his leg. Fuck. He grabbed his pillow, held it tightly over his mouth and screamed.
***
Sleep must have finally taken over, because the next time he opened his eyes, his room was saturated with light. Downstairs, he could hear music and the hum of chatter. The scent of coffee and toast wafted up towards him. He didn't leave the sanctuary of his room. Instead, he bunkered down under his quilt and stayed put, too consumed by his emotions to face anyone.
When his mum did eventually come up to check on him, he pulled the quilt over his face and pretended he was asleep. He couldn't face her. She'd always been able to read him easily, why would this instance be any different? She'd look at the anguish on his face and know instantly how low his thoughts had stooped. And she would hate him for it.
He lapsed in and out of sleep. It was as if he was caught in a fever. Maybe he was, not a physical one, but one caused by his confusion and shame. The trouble was, when he slept, dream-Luc found him.
The light had faded to a deep golden hue when his mum came to visit again and sat on the edge of his bed. He'd turned to face the wall as soon as he'd heard footsteps on the landing and made sure the quilt was pulled up.
"This isn't like you," she said softly, her hand resting on his arm through the quilt. "I'm worried."
"I'm just not feeling well," Adam croaked.
"I guess you won't be teaching tonight?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry."
