Page 15 of Trick of the Flesh
His hands curl into fists, knuckles white, trying to anchor himself against the wall. The fear inside of him is taking over. Breath rattling in his chest. Eyes wide, glassy, and full of unshed tears or maybe humiliation—or both.
“Come on, little brother,” I whisper, my voice curling into something darker, more dangerous—I grab his hand and press it to my cock. “I’m so hard for you. Let me give you what your body’s craving. Let me fill that slutty little hole of yours. You know you want it.”
He trembles violently, shaking, breath ragged. And still…he refuses.
Won’t beg. Won’t give in.
I step back into the shadows, letting him sag against the wall. Letting him feel the ache in his own body, the need curling tighter in his stomach. Letting him taste the frustration, the humiliation.
Letting him burn without release.
“You think you’re safe now?” I murmur, voice low, promising. “You’re not. You won’t ever be. Every time you tremble, every time you ache… I’ll be there. And when you finally beg, little brother…” I let the words linger like smoke in the air. “…I’ll give you everything we’ve both been dying for.”
He presses back against the wall, chest heaving, legs trembling, and eyes wide and wild. I can see the heat pooling in his cheeks and the flush creeping up his neck and across his chest. The tension radiating off him was thick and almost tangible.
I step back further, letting the darkness of the basement swallow me. I let him ache for me, for the both of us, shaking and flushed and knowing exactly what he’s craving but not allowed to have.
The thing is,he can have it.I’m offering it to him.
But I just know that my perfect little brother is fighting all the voices in his head that are telling him it’s wrong. That wanting me is forbidden.
Fuck that.
The walls press in, narrow and confining. Every sound echoes—the drip of water somewhere far off, the scrape of the pipes, his own breath, rapid and ragged.
Breathe for a moment, little brother. Soon the air you breathe will belong to me and be controlled by me.
Trudging up the steps, leaving as loudly as I possibly can, I linger at the top of the stairs a moment longer, watching him. Caleb sinking to the floor, the near-silent sobs leaving his lips. Trembling, needy, flushed, arousal leaking from him like a confession he can’t voice.
Soon.
Slipping back into the mass of bodies, I leave him to consider what I’m giving him. I’m giving him me,us, a way to finally act on the tension that’s been building.
SEVEN
CALEB
This night won’t leaveme alone.
He won’t leave me alone.
I keep thinking if I move fast enough, if I stay alert enough, I can outrun the shape of him—the mask, the stalking presence that’s been dogging my every step since the party began.But that’s a lie, and I know it.Miguel doesn’t just chase.
He hunts.
The bass from the party is a dull heartbeat behind me as I slip out the back door. Yeah, yeah, I know I’m just asking for him to chase me again. The yard yawns wide and open, and the woods stretch like a mouth waiting to swallow me whole. I should stay inside, where people are laughing and drinking, where my dad’s voice carries across the living room.Do I do that, though?Fucking no, because I’m a glutton for punishment. Instead, I’m running into the dark like prey that’s already accepted it won’t make it home.
My sneakers hit the cold grass, then the softer give of damp leaves. My breath fogs in the air, too fast, too shallow.I’m starting to think I fucking have asthma with the way mychest burns.Every crunch of the leaves underfoot sounds like an alarm, giving me away.
I glance back.
There’s nothing there. Just the glow of orange jack-o’-lanterns lining the porch.
But I know better. He’s out here. Waiting for me to run.
Part of me thinks he’s just as desperate to chase me as I am for him to hunt me.
God, we’re fucked up.
