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Stepbrother Inked(8)

By:Violet Blaze


After a moment, I realized that whatever it was that Florian had been  planning to say, he'd changed his mind. I could tell the moment I looked  up and caught him staring at the bookcases that lined the walls between  the windows, and not at my face.

"Flor," I said and his gaze snapped back to me, his lips twisting into an evil grin.

"Let me take you out," he said, sending a thrill of heat down my spine.  My heartbeat picked up speed, something I hadn't even thought possible,  making me dizzy for a split second before I realized I was overreacting.

"Out?" I asked, and was glad I actually managed to keep my voice in  check. I sounded normal, or relatively normal for me anyway. My voice  always sounded kind of husky, like I was trying too hard. "What do you  mean out?" I looked at him looking at me and tried to figure out that  enigmatic smile of his.

"You know, because your birthday was so goddamn fucking lame." I raised  an eyebrow at that, but he wasn't done, finishing his beer and taking a  step towards me. "Your dad still hasn't gotten it through that thick  skull of his that you're not a kid anymore. Cake and frigging ice cream  is fine when you're six, but eighteen? Come on. Tell me that family  dinner didn't suck some serious ass."

I tried to smile, but what was I going to say? That my birthday was six  months ago, that this was a little late, or that I'd snuck out of the  house afterward and partied until dawn (at my friends' behest, of  course)? None of that seemed appropriate, so I held my tongue and smiled  instead.

"I guess so. What did you have in mind?" Flor raised his hand like he  was going to touch my hair, but then he snatched it back, running his  tongue over his lower lip and turning away from me. I may or may not  have focused on his ass again.

"I don't know, nee-chan, let's figure this shit out." He glanced over  his shoulder at me and I died a little inside. Nee-chan. That's  basically Japanese for 'little sister', made even worse by the fact that  chan is an honorific usually reserved for little kids and people you're  too close to to ever consider throwing over the couch and fucking until  they scream. It also irritated me because I knew that Flor spoke little  to no actual Japanese despite three years of high school classes. My  dad pretty much forced me to take them, too, so I could tutor Flor and  hopefully keep him from flunking out. Since he managed to graduate high  school, I considered it a great feat on my part. "We live in the  greatest city in the world; there's always something to do." A slight  exaggeration when it came to Eugene, Oregon, but I wasn't about to burst  his bubble. I'd have much rather lived in San Francisco, in some tiny  little apartment in the Mission, but there was something other than the  beautiful scenery and the microbrews that kept me here, and I'll give  you a hint  –  it wasn't the Ducks football team.

I nibbled on my lower lip again, realized I was doing it and promptly  snapped my mouth shut. The sudden silence in the room seemed even louder  than before.

Flor dug into the pocket of his jeans for a light and lit up, putting a  boot on the window seat and leaning forward to push the window up and  out of his way. He must've grabbed the lighter when he'd gone back down  to his car. I didn't know what his mother would think of him smoking in  here, considering this entire building actually belonged to her. And I  could only imagine what she'd do if she realized I was crushing on her  son. Kick me out? Banish me from family gatherings?

I lifted my gaze away from my stepbrother's ass and came to sit next to  his foot on the cushioned seat. He maintained his vigil of the  neighborhood and hooked up the left half of his mouth in a grin.

"Naked dude," he said, and I smiled. Despite an ordinance banning nudity  (don't ask about our sister city to the north and its infamous World  Naked Bike Ride), it wasn't impossible to catch a glimpse of a brave  soul every once in a while. "And he's got a pierced dick, would you look  at that?" I scrambled to look out the window and catch a glimpse of  this mystery dude while Flor roared with laughter. "Look at you, so  desperate to see some guy's metallic junk. Do you know how bad that shit  hurts?" I glanced back at him with a raised brow, my eyes dropping low  …   lower. Flor caught me looking and leaned down, whispering in my ear.  "Wouldn't you like to know." And then he stood up, took his foot off the  window seat and flicked his cigarette in the sink. "Pick something to  do or I'll pick it out for you," he added, taking out another beer and  chugging it.                       
       
           



       

My mind went immediately to all of the things we couldn't do together  –   like rip each other's clothes off  –  before it spiraled back down into  the realm of the everyday and I was suddenly flooded with vapid  indecision.

"Um." This was the only word capable of escaping my suddenly parched  lips. Go to dinner? No. No. That's either too lame or too much like a  date. A movie? Definitely boring. A club? Did I really want to go to a  club and watch a hundred other girls rub all over Flor? No. The answer  was hell freaking no I did not.

I raised my head and found those eyes of his boring into me, cutting so  deep I was pretty sure I was seconds away from bleeding out all over the  wood floors. My breath remained trapped in my throat, choking back the  words I really wanted to say, the questions I wanted to ask. Once,  several months back, I'd braved the school therapist and I'd told her  all about my problem, spilled my secrets to a stranger and sat back  waiting for judgment. Instead, all I got was an understanding smile and  more questions. Lots of questions. How does your attraction to your  brother make you feel? Have you ever talked with him about it? Have you  and your brother ever acted out on your feelings? I'd wanted to snap  back at her, remind her that stepbrother and brother were two entirely  different things. In some ways, though, she'd been right: I should tell  him. Maybe, just maybe, if we talked about it together, if I was honest  with Flor, I could get past this.

Instead I swallowed hard and blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"I want a tattoo."

I don't think he'd have been anymore shocked if I really had confessed my undying love.

"You what?" he asked, scratching at the side of his head with those  long, strong fingers I'd always admired. I knew how good those fingers  could feel, how they could skitter across my skin like bits of coal,  burning a trail of pleasure that stained the spirit and the soul.

I steepled my own hands together like a prayer and pressed them against my lips to hide my equally stunned expression.

"A tattoo, huh?" Flor asked again, sitting next to me on the window  seat. I turned slowly to look at him and nearly exploded out of my skin  when he bumped me playfully with his shoulder, just like he'd done when  were kids  –  just like he hadn't done since we'd kissed each other that  night three years ago. That simple touch, the slight brush of his skin  against mine, was like an electric shock, waking me up inside, making me  melt, paralyzing my heart for several beats.

"Yeah, a tattoo."

I glanced over at my stepbrother, Florian, the boy who'd grown up  practically alongside me but was still, somehow, a virtual stranger,  like a long lost childhood friend that I'd once known but would never  know again. I nibbled on my lower lip in thought and turned away,  focusing on the kitchen instead of on his face. He seemed surprised  still, but pleased. I mean, why wouldn't he be? Tattooing was his art,  his passion, and his career.

"Only if you trust me," he said, drawing my gaze back to him. Already I  could see gears turning behind those green eyes of his. He blinked once  and suddenly his entire focus was on me, on my face, my body. I could  feel him looking not just at me, but into me. An involuntary shiver  worked its way down my spine. "Let me decide what and where, Abi," he  continued, his voice dropping an octave, making me shift uncomfortably. I  could feel things happening between my thighs that only Flor could do  to me. Even my last boyfriend, the one I'd lost my virginity to, hadn't  made me feel like this.

I kept my gaze locked on his and for a split second there, I saw  indecision and secrets. They fluttered behind his eyes like shadows and  then were gone, buried deep down God only knows where, somewhere inside  of Florian that nobody was allowed to see.

I wished desperately that he'd let me in.

Instead, I smiled, nodded and stood up.

"Okay, Flor," I told him, trying to keep my voice light. "Okay, I trust you."

His smile then was positively wicked.

"Hey Abi," he said as I raised my eyebrow and forced myself to appear  nonchalant, taking another sip of my beer, "do you have any of those  side-tie bikini bottoms in that conservative little closet of yours?"