My Stepson

Marcus POV

Two days had passed since that night in the closet, but I still couldn’t shake it. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elias on his knees, lips stretched around me, eyes looking up like he needed it more than air. The image wouldn’t leave. And now Gloria was really gone—left for some new guy who “saw her.” She didn’t even say goodbye to her own son. Just packed up and disappeared.

We sat across from each other at the dining table. Elias looked small, nervous, picking at his food. I barely touched mine. My mind kept drifting back to the lace, the makeup, the way he’d swallowed every drop like he was starving for it.

“I hadn’t planned anything,” he said quietly. “I was in a place I shouldn’t have been, scared I’d get caught. Things just… happened.”

His eyes searched mine, shiny with tears. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please don’t be mad. Please.”

The fear in his voice hit me hard. It made something protective rise up inside me, mixed with something darker. I hated that he was scared of me. I hated even more that part of me liked seeing him like this—vulnerable, needy.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said. “I just needed to know why.”

“There was no why. I just wanted to…” He looked down, cheeks red. A tear slipped out. “…look pretty.”

He had looked pretty. More than pretty. Gorgeous. The lace on his slim body, the stockings on his legs, the way the makeup made his eyes pop. I’d never seen anything hotter.

“I want you to know I’m okay with it,” I told him. “The cross-dressing, if you’re gay, trans, whatever. Labels don’t matter to me. Whoever you are, whoever you want—it’s fine. I won’t judge you. You don’t have to explain anything.”

He finally looked up again, like he was waiting for the catch.

“I just wish you’d told me before it went that far,” I added. “We crossed a line. It wasn’t fair to let me think you were someone else.”

Deep down, though, I’d known something was different. The body felt smaller, tighter, more eager. I’d ignored it because I was too desperate. Gloria hadn’t touched me in forever. I’d wanted it so bad I didn’t care. And now that I knew the truth? I still wanted it. More. I pictured buying him his own lingerie—stuff that was just for him. No more of her things. Just Elias in lace, waiting for me.

He’s nineteen. An adult. I didn’t raise him. We barely lived in the same house most of the time.

But calling him my stepson still made my blood run hot. The taboo of it. Daddy. The word kept flashing in my head—him whispering it while I fucked him. My cock twitched under the table just thinking about it.

I took a sip of wine to steady myself. “I liked it more than I should have.”

His head snapped up.

“You looked… beautiful.”

Elias POV

He said I was beautiful.

The word warmed me inside. My heart beat faster. No one had ever said it like that—while looking at me with real hunger in their eyes.

“You really mean it?” I asked quietly. “That I’m beautiful?”

Marcus didn’t answer right away. He just stared, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” he said finally, voice low. “I do.”

I leaned forward a little. “Then why fight it?”

He exhaled hard. “Elias… we can’t.”

“No one’s ever wanted me the way you did that night,” I said. “You looked at me like I was everything. I felt it. I still do.”

He set his glass down. Hands flat on the table.

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said.

I stood up slowly. Walked around the table to him.

When I was close, I stopped. “You said you liked it more than you should have.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

I reached out, brushed my fingers over his hand. Light touch.

“I liked it too,” I whispered. “A lot.”

A rough sound came from his throat, low and raw, like he was holding back everything he wanted to say. His hand stayed under mine, warm, unmoving. I could feel the slight tremble in his fingers.

“I keep thinking about your hands on me,” I said again, softer. “The way you groaned when I sucked you. How good it felt.”

His eyes flicked up to mine—dark, stormy. For a second I thought he might shove the table aside and pull me into his lap. Instead he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Elias,” he said, almost pleading. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do,” I whispered. “I know exactly what I’m asking.”

I stepped even closer, my thighs brushing his knees. The air between us felt thick, electric. I leaned down slowly, giving him every chance to stop me. My face was inches from his. I could smell his cologne—woodsy, familiar, the same one I’d sprayed on my neck that night in Mom’s room.

His breath hitched. His free hand lifted, hesitated, then settled lightly on my waist. Not pulling, not pushing. Just holding. Like he was afraid to let go and afraid to hold on tighter.

Our lips were so close I could feel the heat from his mouth. My eyes fluttered half-shut. I tilted my head, ready to close the distance, ready to taste him again—this time knowing it was me he was kissing, me he wanted.

For one heartbeat everything stopped. His fingers tightened on my waist. His eyes dropped to my lips.

Then he jerked back.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly. The hand on my waist fell away like it burned him. He took a step back, then another, putting the table between us like a barrier.

“We can’t,” he said, voice hoarse. “We can’t do this.”

I stood frozen, lips still parted, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

“Marcus—”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut for a second like he was trying to block out the sight of me. “You’re nineteen. You’re… you’re my stepson. This isn’t right. It doesn’t matter how much I want it. It doesn’t matter how beautiful you looked, how good it felt. We can’t cross that line again.”

His words stung, but his voice cracked on the last part. He wasn’t just saying no to me—he was saying no to himself.

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him age didn’t matter, that the line was already crossed, that I didn’t care about labels or right or wrong. But the look on his face stopped me. Guilt. Pain. Want so strong it was tearing him apart.

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “I need… I need to be alone for a minute.”

Without another word he turned and walked out of the dining room.