A living Nightmare

THEO

“Fuck…” The word slipped free from my lips as I slammed my palms against the table, reaching for my phone to switch off the alarm, then sat up in bed, grumbling. My head hurt, my throat ached terribly. For a moment, I sat still, glancing around...

Everything seemed at peace. There was no sign of some boy meant to be my stepbrother. The house was still. Everything felt perfect. That must’ve been a nightmare. A smile stretched on my lips as I puffed out an exhale, standing straight on my feet with a light yawn. It was still dawn. I had enough time to lounge around.

Pushing open the door to my room, I strutted down the stairs toward the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Scratching against my throat, I undid the cap, gulped down some of the contents, tapping my fingers against the tabletop when my eyes caught sight of an image scattered too terribly on the counter across me.

I squinted my gaze, brushed my palms against my eyes, then checked again... it wasn’t an object.

“Pa—” A loud scream coursed through my lips as I staggered backward, falling almost on my ass, my entire body frozen to a spot as the light flickered on.

“Theodore?” The same sulking, haunting voice from my nightmare called out to me. He inched closer, his face coming into view.

“Hunter.” I breathed out the word, feeling more bitter than I’d thought. Fuck. It wasn’t a nightmare. The bloody bastard was real. I'd gotten pissed off, then thrown a tantrum. My mom and Blake had gone back to Italy, begging me to take care of Hunter. Keep an eye on him. And now we were both stuck in the same house for as long as we had to bond… only then would Mom return home.

“No shit, did I scare you?” he asked, goading me on. He stretched his palm out for me to take, but I slapped it away, hissing like a rattling snake before standing to my feet.

“You? Why aren’t you gone yet? Who the fuck lurks around in the kitchen so early in the morning?” I asked, cursing in low tones when he tilted his head in the direction of the backdoor.

“I was meant to go for a run. But it's raining. Ain’t that obvious?” he asked. My eyes trailed down at his outfit, and then suddenly it seemed as though I could hear rainfall pattering against the rooftop steadily.

I scrunched up my nose in disgust, slamming the bottle against the tabletop.

“Get out as soon as it stops raining. Mom is gone, and so is your dad. I won’t tell you, so go off flipping drugs or whatever it is you find in your spare time doing. I do not want you here, Hunter,” I spat, certain enough to have each word of mine rolling in venom and dripping with absolute scorn.

He said nothing, tutted, and steadied himself. His eyes, however, seemed to take in a long glance at me—from the very strands of hair on my head down to my feet—before he repeated the motion again, reminding me that I was in nothing but boxer briefs.

“Stop gawking!” I screeched, refusing to turn my back, worried he might stab me or perhaps toss a vase at my head or something of the sort. I didn’t trust the bastard—not one bit.

“Fine. Let’s make things clear… I do not care about staying here either, Theo. But since dear daddy forced me to, and my deadbeat of a mom had to die, I figured why not enjoy it while it lasts?”

I grimaced hearing him speak, and instantly I realized he wasn’t as dull or innocent as he looked. Each word ripped like sin off his lips, and he wouldn’t stop eye-fucking me with whatever malicious intent was behind his gaze and lurking in his mind at the moment.

“How about I make this clear to you, Theo?” he asked, drawing closer to me until our faces were merely an inch away from the other, his rosy lips hovering so close to mine.

“I've lived in the slums with my drug-addicted, useless mother. And now I find out I’ve got a rich daddy? You think I'll fuck off and let you, golden boy, have it all?” Hunter asked, leaning closer, our lips now touching.

I shoved him backward, sending him hurling as a dark quirk of laughter coursed through his lips.

“That’s more like it,” he retorted, making my skin crawl while I balled my fists by my side.

“I want nothing to do with you! I bet you won't last a week here anyway, so fuck off while I'm being nice to you, Hunter. You should have stayed lost. And take your hands off anything and everything in this house. I do not want you stealing stuff and pawning it off. After all… you are nothing but a bottom feeder from the streets.”

My words seemed to have jabbed through his icy demeanor, judging by the flicker of hurt that crossed his features. I’d refused to acknowledge it anyway. I turned on my feet, storming away from the spot faster than I could comprehend before slamming the door to my room shut and bolting it locked.

My heart raced in my chest. I waited… listened for him to come back up… Footsteps approached. It stopped right by my doorstep, hovered a bit. But then a chuckle echoed through the fucker’s lips, then he hummed like a blood maniac before receding his steps back towards his room.

I swallowed, hard, slumping into the couch in my room, my heart thudding harder and faster against my ribcage. The bastard had gotten under my skin. Who did he think he was, standing up to me? How dare he put his filthy lips on mine… his fucking kissable plump… feed... fuck, fuck, fuck.

I glanced down at my pants to see I'd already pitched a boner. Fright marred my features as my face paled in color.

“No… no…” I stuttered, my breath shaky as I yanked at my boxers, staring down at my evidently throbbing dick. This was wrong… in all forms. I didn’t even know who he was. It… it had to be a morning wood. Nothing else. My breaths came out erratic and uneven before I eventually caved, wrapped my fingers around my cock, working it.

My eyes shut briefly on their own accord and I could picture the bastard—his lips on mine briefly, his wet, loose body wrapped in nothing but my towel. My eyes flipped to the towel, and for a mid-second, I pictured him here… watching, his eyes on mine as I jerked my cock fast and hard. The feel of his body on mine. His breath.

“Fuck. Fuck… fuck,Hunter,” I whispered as I jutted my hips. Ropes of cum spurted on my palm as my climax went on and on… and finally, the last bit of cum dripped down to the tiles.

I cursed, slamming my body back on the couch. This was wrong… bloody wrong.

He was my stepbrother… one I was certain I hated.