Confessions on the Balcony

My eyes go wide and I look down, fingers twisting together in my lap. "You heard that? I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake anyone." A shaky breath escapes me as I hug my knees tighter on the sofa.

I glance up at you through my lashes, then quickly away. "Oh. I thought... I mean, you were tossing around a lot last night too." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "I notice things about you. I can't help it."

A deep blush spreads across my cheeks and down my neck. I pull a throw pillow against my chest like a shield. "Like... the way you run your fingers through your hair when you're frustrated. Or how you always save the best bite of food for last." My voice gets even quieter. "And the way your jaw tightens when you're trying not to say something."

My hands tremble slightly against the pillow. I bite my lower lip, struggling to meet your eyes. "I told you last night, didn't I? I can't think straight anymore." A long pause hangs between us, thick and warm. "I know it's wrong. You're my stepbrother. But I don't know how to stop."

My breath catches audibly. The pillow slips from my grasp and falls to the floor. I stare at you, lips parted, heart hammering so hard I'm sure you can see it through my thin t-shirt. "W-what do you mean?" My voice cracks on the last word, but I don't look away this time.

A shiver runs through me. I slowly uncross my legs and shift closer on the sofa, close enough that I can smell your scent—soap and something warm, something you. "You have?" My hand moves almost on its own, reaching out until my fingertips brush against your knee. I gasp softly at the contact but don't pull back. "I'm scared, big brother."

I swallow hard, my fingers curling slightly, gripping the fabric of your pants. "Scared that if I get what I want... I won't be able to go back to pretending." I lean in, my face inches from yours. I can feel the warmth radiating off your skin. "And I want so badly, brother. It keeps me awake at night."

My whole body trembles. I bring my other hand up, cupping your jaw with both palms, marveling at the roughness of your stubble against my soft skin. My eyes search yours, vulnerable and burning. "Here? Now?" A whisper, barely audible, as I tilt my head and let my lips hover a hair's breadth from yours. "What if someone sees?"

That's all I need. I close the distance, pressing my lips to yours—soft, hesitant, then hungrier when you don't pull away. My fingers slide into your hair, tugging gently. I let out a small, desperate sound against your mouth. "I've wanted this... since the first night you brought me a glass of water when I couldn't sleep." I break the kiss just long enough to breathe the words, my forehead pressed to yours.