Chapter 6 Miguel
SIX
MIGUEL
The house swallows him up the moment he slips through the back door.
Music, laughter, and chatter from the party—they’re all background noise.
My body is completely attuned to him and only him.
Every hurried step, every panicked breath that comes from his tired lungs.
He thinks he can hide. That he can disappear into our childhood home and that I won’t find him.
But I know him too well.
I know all his hiding places.
Following silently, boots quiet against the floorboards, the mask’s glow faintly lights the dim hallway.
I track him through the living room, past the scattered decorations and punch bowls, the scent of cider and pumpkins hanging heavy in the air.
Hearing the drunk calls of my friends but ignoring them, because only one thing is important and is deserving of my attention.
And that person disappears down the basement stairs.
Oh, sweet little brother.
You’ve really put yourself in a predicament now, haven’t you?
I pause at the top, letting the shadows swallow me, letting the arousal coil in my stomach. The basement is dark and narrow, with walls pressing in. The air smells damp, earthy, and close. Claustrophobic. Exactly what I want and where I want him.
I hear his frantic shuffle at the bottom of the stairs. He’s trying to barricade himself, fumbling with the old wooden door, muttering under his breath.
“Fucking open, you piece of shit door.”
“Going somewhere?” I whisper, letting my voice drift down like smoke, low and teasing.
He freezes. Breath catches. “Miggy…”
I step down carefully, letting each footfall echo through the confined space. I can see him now, pressed against the far wall of the narrow hallway that leads deeper into the basement. His chest is heaving. Eyes wide. Hands trembling.
I feel like Sylvester the cat catching his Tweety bird.
“Stop pretending you’re not terrified,” I murmur, leaning closer. My mask is inches from his face. “I can feel it. Your heartbeat.” I press my open palm to his chest and sure enough, it thumps wildly against it. “The tremble in your hands. The way your legs won’t stop shaking.”
He presses back against the wall, trying to disappear into the shadows, trying to make himself smaller. But the hallway is narrow.
He has nowhere to run.
Unless it’s into me.
“You’re hard,” I whisper, dragging a finger along the waistband of his shorts and then down, brushing his cock just lightly enough to make him shiver. “Look at you. Panting, trembling, already leaking for me.”
He jerks, shaking his head. “I’m not…”
I laugh softly, low and sharp. “Don’t lie to me. I can feel it. I bet you clench just thinking about how good it will feel once I’m inside you.”
He swallows hard as his knees wobble. Breath comes fast, shallow, and uneven. Panic edges his features. The small, tight hallway seems to close in on him, walls pressing like a cage.
“All you are is a hole I get to ruin, pretty boy.” I slide closer, chest almost brushing his. “You want it,” I whisper. “Your body’s screaming for it, begging for it, even if your mouth won’t. Admit it. Tell me how desperate you are for me.”
He shakes his head violently, panic rising, chest heaving harder. “I—I’m not begging.”
Mmmm, I love a brat.
I lean back slightly, letting him catch his breath.
Panic is radiating off him. His skin is slick with sweat.
His hair sticks to his forehead. His chest rises and falls, rapid and erratic.
“Every inch of you is mine to break, Caleb. But I’ll always put you back together, little brother.
” I pause, watching him, letting the moment stretch.
He’s perfect like this. Vulnerable. Hungry. Burning.
And he doesn’t even realize it.
“I could take you right here, right now, and leave you a broken mess. Maybe I should.” I reach out, letting a hand brush his shoulder and slide along his arm. He flinches at the touch.
His breath hitches and tremors ripple down his body.
“You’re pathetic,” I murmur, low and rough, my voice sliding into his ear. “Panting and shaking, aching for me, and you won’t even admit it. You’re already mine, little brother. Every inch of you, even if your pride won’t let you say it.”
His jaw tightens. Lips quivering. He steps back against the wall, shaking. I let him. I let him stew in the tension, in the craving, in the humiliation. I let him feel it curl in his gut, to where it’s impossible to ignore.
“You know what you want,” I whisper, voice low, teasing. “Your body knows. It’s leaking for me, craving me, begging for me silently. All you have to do…” I let my fingers graze the waistband again, making him shiver violently. “…is say it.”
He glares, shaking his head again. Won’t.
Can’t.
Pride and panic are fighting inside him. And that only makes the hunger coiling in me tighten. “Every corner you hide in, every breath you take… I’m already inside your head, Caleb. Let me have the rest of what’s mine.”
I pause for a moment, watching him, letting him breathe, letting the panic swell, then subside just slightly. I can see his chest rising and falling, sweat beading on his skin.
Still mine in every way that counts.
“Beg for me,” I murmur, moving closer, letting the shadow of my mask hover over him. “Beg like the little brat you are, and I’ll give you what you’re starving for. Every inch of it. All of it. Only good boys who beg get rewarded.”
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.