#ryan lindgren

A single hand raised as you stepped out from under the shade of the awning and out into the heated embrace of the sun. It was blinding, your eyes squinting, after spending hours in an air-conditioned auditorium. The heat surrounded you, the weight of it heavy on your skin as it began to shimmer with sweat. It was the temperature as it had been when you walked in through the doors earlier that same day. The only difference was that it truly felt like summer now that your exams were over. 

A smile splayed over your lips as your hand fell away from your face, welcoming the warmth of the sun on your cheeks as your eyes adjusted. You paused in the middle of the sidewalk and celebrated, “we fucking did it!”

Twirling in place, your tennis skirt fluttered away from your legs as you shot your arms up into the air. You spun there until you stumbled over your own feet. Your classmate’s large hands quickly found your waist to keep you from falling. It was a hold that you welcomed, your hand bracing against his chest to keep yourself from leaning in too close. 

You had been flirting with Ryan all semester, from late night study sessions to the very strategic bend and snap of picking up something you had dropped you had done it all. It had started out as a little game at first. It was a fun little pass time that started as a dare from your best friend to flirt with the Minnesota Gophers’ defenceman. He wasn’t your usual type, but after a semester of teasing, there was no shame in indulging in a little fun. Right?

Your roommate had already gone home for the summer. You were going to spend the night alone in your apartment, but you didn’t have to. Smiling softly, your lips parted to say the words you were sure he anticipated hearing, let’s go back to my place. But you couldn’t find your words, not when two shrill hocks of a car horn left them choked into the back of your throat. 

Slowly, you stepped back out of his hold, and turned to face the road. It was lined with cars that squeezed into the tightest of parking spots just to secure a spot close enough to the building. Some waved at you with the wild flutter of parking tickets tucked under windshield wipers, but none stood out to you in a way that said that someone was trying to get your attention. 

“Do you have someone waiting for you?” You asked Ryan, your gaze cast back over your shoulder at him as he stood just behind you. 

His head shook slowly, his hand raising to stroke over the strong angle of his jawline and the stubble there. He wasn’t your usual type with his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that looked right past you instead of at you. He saw something, something that hadn’t been there before. 

A third honk left you startled, jumping in place as your hand lurched up to grasp at your chest. Taking a heavy inhale, you followed Ryan’s gaze to a silver Dodge Challenger that seemed out of place. I was too clean, too new, compared to the other cars parked around it. It still had a new car shine, and no rust along the wheel wells from unapologetic winters. It wasn't a student's car, a professor's? Maybe. But it didn’t explain the honking. All the professors were tied up in the auditorium. 

“Someone must be trying to get some extra credit,” you joked, swaying your hips suggestively. 

Ryan let out a laugh, his head nodding towards the car as the driver's side door swung wide open. “20 bucks it’s Mr. Andersen. The guy gives me the creeps.”

He was right. Professor Andersen was a creep with his lingering gaze and subtle innuendos with students that fit his type. You were an unfortunate target of his subtle passes. Never enough to get himself into trouble if you decided to pursue a formal complaint, but just enough to know that he’d let you suck his dick for a letter grade. 

“If it’s Mr. Andersen, do me a favor and rinse my eyes with bleach,” you spoke dramatically as you leaned up against Ryan, waiting for the great unveil. 

The two of you stood together, Ryan’s arm coming up to drape over your shoulders almost protectively as you watched a single hand to grasp the top of the car door. Then, from behind the cover of the car door, came a tall athletic figure. Their thick black hair caught in the wind and their smile left your breath hitching in the back of your throat. Your heart began to hammer, your body suddenly floating and at risk of blowing away in the thick summer breeze. It had been months since you had seen that smile, and you hadn’t expected to see it so soon. 

It was Brady, and he was looking right at you. 

His hand raised up in a subtle wave, one that he could have easily hidden if it had gone unnoticed. 

“You know this guy?” Ryan asked slowly, his words heavy with skepticism. 

“Yeah,” you smile, your excitement leaving you in a relieved breath. “It’s my brother!”

It felt weird to say it out loud. 

You had been calling him your brother since you were fourteen, after finally deciding that step-brother was a waste of your breath and time. It was a title of his that slid so effortlessly off your tongue as you saw him. For so long, Brady had been just that. Your brother. Family. Now? You weren’t so sure. He would always be family, but there was a line that had been crossed. 

Brady had seen a side of you he should have never thought about – and you him. One night was all it took to plant the seed. It was a desire that was rooted deep inside you. You had tried to suffocate it in the darkness of denial. But the more you denied yourself, the more it thrived. You daydream about Brady often, more than you would ever admit to anyone. You played with the make believe fables of what could be if the circumstances were different—and the best ones always ended with your hand between your thighs. 

It was never more than that. Sinful thoughts in the privacy of your mind, enjoyed in the solace of your room where no one could catch you daydreaming about your step-brother’s cock. He was the only person you could tell about such thoughts, but you never called on him. Between his lack of response to the video you had ended your night with and your busy schedules, you didn’t know where you stood—and you weren't ready to find out. 

Your heart tightened in your chest as you stood there, your eyes fixated on Brady and his presence that felt natural as if he had stood in that same place many times before. And maybe he had. The University of Minnesota was his alma mater. Chances were that he had picked up a girl from the exact same spot once or twice before, and now he was there waiting for you. 

Unexpectedly. 

Unannounced. 

“Guess that means I got a ride,” you say after a moment, your usual cocky confidence masking the nerves that left your skin numb. “See you in the fall, Lindy?”

Ryan’s lips pulled back into a smile, a hand raising to push back his blonde hair as he chuckled out. “Not if I get my call up to the big leagues.”

“Oh la de da, Mr. Big Shot,” you fanned yourself as you walked away. You had never told him that you were related to an NHL player. You didn’t want to make things weird. Instead, you often found yourself inflating his ego. “I hope I never see you again! Better?”

“Better.” He nodded. “Have a good summer,” he punctuated his farewell with your name. It was something he always did, and it never failed to put butterflies in your stomach.

Until now.

You were too fixated on Brady to feel anything but on edge. His presence should have left you frozen in place. So much had changed since you had last seen him in person, and yet you quickly fell back into the safety of old habits. 

“Brady!” You half squealed, excitement blossoming through you in a warmth from the center of your chest. It sent a shock of adrenaline through you. You bounced on the balls of your feet before you were running straight at him. The breeze felt stronger as you ran, the fabric of your skirt dancing in the wind and your hair whipped at your back as you abandoned Ryan, and school, for Brady. 

Your bodies met in the desperate collision, your arms wrapping around him as he caught you with an effortlessness that was almost annoying. Brady’s thick arms wrapped around you in a bear hug, his cheek pressed into your hair as he lifted you feet up and off the ground. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked him. 

His words plumed into your hair in a hot breath as he answered. “Our season ended earlier than we would have liked.”

“I know that,” you laughed and moved to raise a single hand to knock his shoulder playfully, but it remained plastered to his back. Lazily tracing one of his muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “But like, shouldn’t you be golfing or something?”

“Or something,” Brady mocked softly as if being on campus seeing you wasn’t obviously something other than golf.

Slowly, Brady placed you down, his hands sliding down your waist so slowly you can’t help but wonder if it was deliberate. But when you looked up at him, your eyes searching for answers, you found his dark eyes gazing off across the street. “Who’s your friend?”

Gazing back over your shoulder, you found Ryan. He was getting into his car at the edge of the parking lot with one of his teammates. They were lost in conversation, probably talking about the next rager they’d have at their place now that exams were done. You would be nothing but an afterthought now, but your little tennis skirt might have been enough to get you an invitation later. It would be one you would take him up on, that was if you weren’t busy with Brady. 

“Oh? He’s no one,” you shrugged. 

“He wasn’t looking at you like he’s no one,” Brady’s jaw tensed as he spoke, his hands slipping into his pockets to hide what you were sure were fists. 

“No one, who wants to be someone.” You couldn’t help but let your smile grow as your tone became playful. There was so much more you wanted to say. You could feel the words in your mouth, hanging onto the tip of your tongue, so close forming and blossoming into the air. 

Why? Are you jealous? 

Were the words you wanted to say, but you choked them back as you rounded the front of the car to get into the passenger side. You wanted nothing more than to say them. The look on his face alone would have been more than satisfying. But you couldn’t risk trying to navigate just where the two of you stood just yet. 

“Mom was saying this was your last exam,” Brady called out to you, his arm propping up against the hood of the car as he looked at you. His expression had softened, the tension lost in what seemed to become a forgotten conversation. 

“That’s right. I’m finally free. Until September anyway.”

“So, what are we doing to celebrate?” Brady smiled. 

“There’s a great Chinese takeout place not far from here,” you suggested. “We could grab something and watch a movie back at my place?”

“Your roommate won’t mind?” Brady challenged as he lowered himself down into the driver's seat. 

You followed suit. 

Slowly, you slipped down into the passenger seat of the Challenger, the leather seats hot hot against the back of your thighs as your skirt inched up over the swell of your ass. Your hand shot up instinctively, gripping the hem and tugging it back down to cover your upper thighs. The flowing fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination before, which had been fine when you were trying to seduce your classmate—not spending quality time with her step-brother. 

If Brady looked at you, and as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes you weren’t sure if he had, he’d see all of your legs. From your ankles that were half covered by your bag as you placed it at your feet, almost all the way up to where your legs met your hips. As much as you wished you had worn something else, that your legs could have been hiding behind heavy denim or a pair of sweatpants, a part of you wanted him to look. 

“My roommate already caught her flight back home,” you told him slowly, your words drawing his gaze to you, “she left this morning. It’d just be the two of us for dinner.” 

“Sounds like a plan, just tell me where to go,” Brady smiled, his hand dropping to the gear shift casually. You watched as each of his thick fingers fell around it one by one, his pointer finger stretching out far, grazing the exposed flesh of your thigh in a quick swipe that almost felt like an accident as it caught the pleat of your skirt. It inched the fabric up just a little higher before his fist was wrapped around the shifter, his grip on it tight as the car roared to life and he threw it into drive. 

The engine hummed softly as you guided Brady through the campus streets. They were busy, packed with students as they finished their exams and rushed to the nearest bar to celebrate the end of the academic year, and by vehicles as others were eager to make the trip back home. If you were on an open roadway, you knew Brady’s foot would be heavy on the gas. Instead, he was cautious as he listened to your careful instructions as you directed him to the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. 

Brady had to circle the block twice before he found an empty parking spot. When the car stilled, and the engine fell quiet, you reached down and released yourself from the tight protection of the seatbelt. It slipped away from your chest with a satisfying click, only for Brady’s hand to reach out, clutching your wrist in his gentle hold. 

“Wait in the car,” he told you, his voice firm and his bright blue eyes icy as he looked at you. Your jaw slacked. Your lips parting as you left out a long exhale instead of the why you wanted to let slip from them. But before you could even find a single word, Brady spoke softly, “Please.”

And as he spoke, you felt the gentle stroke of his knuckle over the exposed skin of your thigh. It traced upwards, inching up the fabric of your skirt before he pulled back. His touch lingered long enough for your breath to catch in the back of your throat—long enough for every thought to challenge him to melt away—but not quite long enough for the touch to feel deliberate.

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly, a single hand reached back to secure the seat belt back over your chest, “okay.”

Your feeble reply left you reeling in your seat as you watched Brady disappear into the restaurant. You threw your head back against the headrest and you pressed your thighs firmly together, trying to rid yourself of the feeling of weakness between them. Gritting your teeth together, your hands gripped the hem of your skirt, tugging it down until your fingertips were resting right where Brady’s knuckles had grazed. It was right at the swell of your hip, and it burned as if his touch was still there. Pressing your nails into your own flesh, you focused on the sting. It was a desperate attempt to trick your brain into feeling the pain instead of craving Brady’s hands back on your body.

The sudden pull of the driver side door sent you into a state somewhere between flight or fright. You were frozen, shoulders tense as your neck snapped in Brady’s direction. You dug your nails a little deeper into your skin, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and into a semblance of relaxation. 

You remember the fortune cookies? Was what you should have asked Brady as he placed the food in the back seat and settled back into the driver's seat. Instead, you were quick to challenge Brady. “You didn’t want me to go inside because of my skirt, right?”

Brady’s grasp seemed to tighten around the steering wheel, his fists flexing before they relaxed and directed the car back out into the street. His phone chirped to life, giving him quick directions to your apartment. It gave him a good reason not to answer you. The directions cutting him off so conveniently before he could answer. But then his gaze flickered in your direction like a candle in a distant windowsill before it returned to the road in front of you. 

“It’s short,” he told you simply. 

“It’s not that short-” 

Brady was quick to cut you off. “You’re wearing blue panties.”

You crossed your legs slowly as if it could hide what he had already seen. 

Brady wasn’t wrong. Your panties were blue—specifically, they were a powder blue cotton with a lace trim. They were your favorite pair for their comfort and how they brought you an effortless confidence when you wore them with the intent of someone else seeing them. But this was different. Brady wasn’t supposed to be the one to see just how well they fit you. 

“Alright,” you conceded in a shuddering breath, “Maybe it’s a little short.”

“Do you always dress like that around campus?” Brady asked, his words slow - cautious. 

Only when I’m trying to fuck the hockey team’s most promising defenceman since you, you thought and your mouth went dry. 

“Not always,” you said slowly, knowing that you couldn’t tell him what your intentions had been before he had shown up and put a stop to it without even knowing what was going on. 

The two of you were silent for the rest of the ride to your apartment. You were too nervous to speak another word—you couldn’t even look at him when he parked his car in the visitor parking space. All you wanted to do was get into your place and change before Brady could make another comment about how short your skirt was. 

Your strides were quick as you fumbled through your backpack for your keys. You could feel the cool aluminum against your fingertips before they would slip back into the depths of your bag. When you finally got a grasp of them, you opened the front door and moved straight for the elevator. You could feel Brady’s eyes on you with every step, sending your heart racing as you felt the fluttering of your skirt against your upper thigh. One misstep and he would have a front row seat to the curve of your ass, and it was the fuel you needed to unlock the apartment door with expert ease and disappear inside. You hadn’t even stopped to hold the door for Brady, hoping the extra moment of struggle would give you enough time to discard your bag and B-Line for the bedroom. You needed to change into something else - anything else-

“Where are you going?” Brady’s question left you frozen in the threshold of your bedroom doorway. 

Reaching a single hand out, you braced yourself on the doorframe as you teetered from your sudden stop. Leaning back, your eyes found Brady. He had already made himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back against the cushions, his legs comfortably spread, with the food on the table. Untouched. And his attention was completely locked on you. 

“I was just going to change,” you pointed a thumb back over your shoulder, towards the privacy of your bedroom, as you spoke. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he assured slowly, “just come eat before it gets cold.” 

Fingers flexed around the door frame, squeezing it tightly before your hand slipped away and you stepped back into the living room. Your steps were slow, almost cautious as you moved through your own space. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like home. The air was thick around you, suddenly hot and sending a bead of sweat down the back of your neck. You held your breath as you moved to the empty space on the opposite side of the couch from Brady.

He was unpacking the paper bag of food onto the coffee table, pushing what he had ordered for you closer to your end on the table. You eyed it carefully, reading the messy numbers on each lid. You were sure it was a place he frequented back in college, and paired that with his extensive brotherly knowledge of you, Brady had ordered your favorite. He topped the container with the slightly crumbled fortune cookie that you always started your meals with. 

“What’s your say?” Brady asked slowly as he cracked open his own cookie. 

You crinkled the plastic wrapping before you poured the crumbled contents into your palm. As you shoved the entire broken cookie in your mouth, you smoothed the fortune between your fingers. You spoke after you swallowed back the dry but sweet cookie. “You have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment.” 

“Lucky numbers?” Brady asked, as if they mattered. 

“17-7-51-17-6-76,” you listed, “what does yours say?”

“You will make many changes before settling satisfactorily,” Brady read, pausing for a moment as if to ponder what that could mean for him. “59-30-54-20-39-25.”

“So, do we go out and buy lottery tickets, or what?” You joked lightly, feeling a little lighter now that you had fallen back into your old familiar habits. 

You relaxed back into the comfort of the couch, the Chinese takeout container cradled in your hand as you found the remote and put on an Entourage rerun. It filled the air with a familiar background noise that only continued to fuel your comfort as you sat next to Brady, both of you picking at your food and exchanging soft smiles. Smiles became soft laughter that blossomed into casual conversation. Slowly, things began to feel almost normal, but there was a hesitancy that remained in the words spoken and the glances shared. It was like playing a game of verbal chess, barely avoiding what you really wanted to say. 

You wanted to ask him about the phone call. 

The pictures you sent him, and the pictures he sent you. 

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t press. You refused to ruin the good time you were having in the mere company of him—that was until Brady started to press. 

“So that guy from earlier,” he spoke so casually it didn’t faze you at first, “he’s not some secret boyfriend or something?” 

“No, he’s just…” you hesitated as you played with your food. You could feel his eyes on you, and you refused to look up and meet his stare. You took another bite to fill the silence, your mind racing with what Ryan was to you.

Ryan was your classmate. An attractive one. One you wouldn’t have rejected, so what did that make him? Not your boyfriend, he wasn’t a fuck buddy - yet - so he was just.. An option?

But why would you even consider him when Brady was right there?

You were hit with a sudden wave of heat at the thought, your skin perspiring again as your skirt and t-shirt suddenly felt like too much for your air-conditioned apartment. And the food that was at the back of your throat, ready to be swallowed, left you choking on it. 

Brady shot up from his seat, his takeout container teetering as it found its place on the coffee table. Your eyes watched as it threatened to fall, your throat burning as you coughed up the bite of rice that had left you choking into a napkin—and Brady was watching you. He reached out a single hand, and it splayed over your lower back before it began to stroke up and down along your spine. 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice as soft and heavy with the same concern he wore on his face.

Shutting your eyes, you took a slow, quivering breath. A single hand raised in a pathetic thumbs up before you nodded. When you opened your eyes, you watched him through thick lashes as the tension left his body at the indication that you were alright—but his hand didn’t leave you. It continued to stroke up and down the curve of your spine, and lingered so casually on the bare skin that played peek-a-boo from between your shirt and skirt that it almost didn’t feel deliberate. 

“Yeah,” you take another deep breath, “I’m good.” 

A deep breath rocked you, your eyes taking long blinks to force the tears away - and when you opened them you realized just how close Brady was to you. He was right at your side, his hip right against yours and his face so close to yours you could feel the heat of his breath on your cheek. 

You bit your lip to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips at the thought of just how easy it would be to lean in and kiss him. You knew wanting to kiss him was wrong, but it only made you want to kiss him more. And in a moment of strong restraint, you forced yourself to look away instead of letting yourself indulge in sinful curiosities that would be tasting Brady’s lips. 

You felt the couch shift beside you, Brady’s knee knocking yours as he turned further in your direction. “What?” Brady asked with a sense of playfulness in his voice that you can’t quite place. 

It isn’t like all the times before when he would tease you like he was obligated to — because he was. Brady was your big brother. After the two of you had met, he had made you laugh. He had made you cry. You played. You fought. But now, his playfulness was more than just brotherly. You could feel it, something deep beneath the surface that was ready to burst—and all you could think about was Brady making you come.

“You know what,” you laugh pathetically. Nervously. 

Turning back to face him, your eyes found his soft smile, and a playful laughter that harmonized with your own. It put you at ease and gave you the courage to find his stare and confirm your suspicions with just a glance. There was a sparkle in his eyes that was like a single light turning on in a dark house. It called you, begging you to come home - and it told you the one thing you needed to know. Giving you permission to push into a conversation with words that should have never been spoken. 

“So,” you swallowed hard, your tongue suddenly feeling swollen in your mouth. “Are we going to talk about it, or are we going to pretend like it didn’t happen?” You asked him, your words wavering and uneasy as you looked at him. 

“What is there to say?” Brady spoke casually, a single shoulder shrugging as his eyes flicked away from you and to the tv screen before coming back to you. Brady licked his lips slowly before he spoke again. “Do you regret it?”

“It?” You cocked your head to the side. “Do you mean the picture I accidentally sent? Or the phone call?” You started to list, your chest heaving with a heavy breath as you thought back to his breathy words through the phone all those nights ago. “Or maybe you're referring to the video I sent you after…”

Brady shifted beside you, his body leaning back against the couch as his legs spread just a little wider. He was trying to get comfortable, shifting just enough to try to discreetly hide—or show you—how the memory had his cock stiffening in his pants.

“I don’t regret any of it, Brady,” you told him firmly, “do you?”

“No,” he answered simply, a hand reaching up to push through his thick dark hair from his forehead, “you sure your roommate left?” 

“She caught her flight yesterday,” you answered. 

“Good,” Brady breathed out, "because I don’t think I can explain to anyone what I’m about to do-”

Brady extended his hand slowly, his fingertips gently touching your cheek until his thumb pressed against your lips. Your eyes fell shut, your breath hitching in the back of your throat as his thumb carefully stroked downward, tugging your lower lip with it until it was bouncing back free from his touch. But it was only for a moment. While the warmth of his touch was gone, the warmth of his breath sent a prickle of anticipation through your body at what was to come. 

His kiss. 

It began with the careful graze of his lips against yours, his heavy exhale felt more than the kiss itself as he tested to see what you both had teased was there. It sent your heart hammering in your chest, so hard you thought you might throw up as you leaned in just a little more to feel more of his soft lips - but it wasn’t enough. You reached out with both hands, cupping the angle of his jawline in both your hands to draw him in more. 

The kiss wasn’t something soft and probing anymore. It was full and fast. With labored breathing, knocked teeth so quickly the two of you fell into what was festering beneath the surface. 

Need.

You needed to know if it all had just been talk—that you had the same effect on him than he did you. You wanted to make him hard, because you could already feel the dampness between your thighs. Tensing your legs, you tried to press your thighs firmly together in an attempt to fight the weakness you felt between them. 

And you pressed them together tighter, more firmly, as Brady’s hands traced up the curves of your body. His touch wasn’t hesitant or shy. It didn’t ghost over your thighs. His fingertips pressed into them, kneading at your flesh as his touch worked its way up. His hands inched up the hemline of your skirt, exposing more of your flesh to him before letting it fall back into place. Then, his hands settled on your hips. 

Brady’s fingers tightened, his pull urging you closer until your legs were drawn apart and his lap was in between them. The feeling of him between your inner thighs consumed your body with a wave of heat. Yet, you were frozen. 

Your lips crashed against his, but you felt like you didn’t move. 

You didn’t breathe. Your every breath was suffocated by his thick exhale.

And your mind was racing, but you couldn’t think.

Every single function of your body stalled as Brady reached a single hand up to brush your hair from your face. You could feel his palm in a gentle graze over your cheek, the drag of his skin igniting the instinct within your body like a match.Your head tilted into his touch, and your own hands began their careful journey up his chest. Your touch wrinkled his t-shirt, feeling his strength through the light cotton on their journey up to the nape of his neck, and the thick strand of his dark hair.

Brady’s head leaned back into your touch, but his lips didn’t leave yours. Not once did it lose its hunger, but it slowed. It deepened. You could taste his tongue in your mouth, your face wet with saliva as you took a gasping breath before your lips fell in for another taste of him. 

A small smile tugged at the outer corner of your lips as you let your lips come down to tug playfully on his lower lip - one that wavered when you felt him. Both of Brady’s hands had found your hips, his fingers sinking into your softness as he began to guide your hips in a subtle roll over him. 

Between your thighs, where your skirt was pushed up high and there was nothing more than the damp cotton of your panties, you could feel Brady stiff and ready. With one careful roll of your hips, you could feel every inch of him, from balls to tip, as his bulge tested the confinement of his pants. 

“Brady,” you gasped against his mouth, “we should stop.”

But your actions didn’t match your words. When you should have been pulling away, you were leaning in for another kiss.

“You’re right,” he breathed back, pulling back just enough for your eyes to lock. 

At that moment, logic should have kicked in. Your brain should have been screaming not to kiss him. Not to want him in a way that you could only describe as primal. But Brady, he was looking at you with bedroom eyes, and you were looking right back at him through thick lashes with the same look.

It drew you back together in a fierce kiss. One that you felt like you needed more than air as teeth clacked and nipped at each other's lips under the desperation of your kiss. 

“We can’t fuck,” your words were a whisper against his lips. 

“No, that–” Brady’s words were interrupted by a sloppy kiss. One that had his tongue delving into his mouth to taste you. It left you moaning as he finished. “We can’t do that.”

Hearing his words were enough to leave you whimpering. You knew where the line had to be drawn. You were the one to draw it. But you could feel the wetness of your panties between your thighs, and how your cunt seemed to swell and throb at the very thought of fucking him. 

Brady’s kiss travelled down, leaving your mouth agape and threatening to moan. The heat of his breath blossomed over your neck as you felt the hot, wet trail of his kiss soak your neck. Your head lulled to the side, opening it up to him as your teeth came down to bite down hard on your lower lip. It muffled your moan into a whine as you dragged your clothed, wet core along his erection slowly. 

You could feel the moment his breath hitched. He made a soft sound against your collarbone. Brady’s teeth dragged along the sharp angles there, and the burn of his teasing bite was quickly soothed by the heat of his words. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me.” Brady’s words were an instruction, not a question. 

You drew back, your face contorted with confusion. “What?”

“On your hands and knees, Sissy, please,” he hummed. 

You obliged. 

Sliding off his lap, you returned to your couch cushion, this time on your knees. You propped yourself on the arm of the couch, facing away from Brady as he got up behind you. His hands were on your body, guiding you where he wanted you until you were just right. 

He tucked your legs between his and guided you down until your chest was flush with the sofa, all the while your ass was left high in the air for him. You could feel your skirt slip upwards, your ass and your panties on full display for him as you felt him shift up closer. You felt his body heat first, then his hips as they pressed firm into your ass. 

His hands stroked down the curve of your spine slowly, before stroking back up to the swell of your ass. Brady squeezed your soft flesh in his hands, kneading your ass as you felt the careful grinding of his cock - still confined behind his layers of clothing - stoke along your clothed cunt. Then, he Brady humped you, fast and hard, as if he were fucking you. 

Each drag of his cock along your core left your core throbbing, begging for him - for anything - to be inside you. You muffled your moans into the couch cushion as you pressed back into his every grinding thrust, your panties so wet that they slipped and glided along your cunt, leaving you exposed and dragging along the rough seam of his jeans. 

“Fuck,” you gaped feebly, and you slipped your arm down between your body and the couch. You reached blindly, your fingers quick to find your clit to rub as he thrust against you.

“That’s it,” Brady’s grip on your hips tightened, helping guide your clothed cunt up and down the length of his cock. “I can see how wet you are, Sissy. So close to coming for me.”

Hearing his words, sent your body reeling as you fell into your climax. Your hips rutted, sending your clit down into your fingers, and you pressed your ass firm into his cock, pulling your panties tight along your core. The tension of your panties could be felt as your core throbbed, your arousal soaking them and your thighs - and you were sure, Brady’s pants as well. 

The feeling left your body weak, slumping down onto the sofa with nothing but Brady’s hands to support you. He guided you slowly, rolling you over until you were lying back on the couch beneath him. You sprawled out, sweating, panting and watching Brady through your lashes as he knelt between your legs and his hands made quick work of his pants. His belt jingled, and his zipped slid down under the pressure of his cock that was so eager to spring free. 

Brady’s hand had barely wrapped around it when you watched his face melt into pleasure. His head leaned back on his shoulders, his eyes half shut - open just wide enough to watch as he stroked his cum paint the dark fabric of your blue panties. 

The creamy white was bright against the dampened blue. The sight of it sent heat to your cheeks, and your hands quickly raised to hide the color there and the smile that blossomed over your swollen lips.

It was a giddy smile of excitement. Of ecstasy and disbelief. 

For a moment, the room spun. Your mind is stuck in the haze of bliss that not even the magnitude of what happened could spoil. 

“The bathroom’s just through there,” you told Brady after a moment, your words breathy as you pointed out towards the doorway, “you can go get yourself cleaned up in there. I’m going to go change.” 

You didn’t wait for a response. 

Quickly, you got up from where you were kneeling on the couch and almost collapsed under the weight of your own body with weakness in your knees. Then, when you took your first step, you felt the gentle glide of your thighs together, lubricated by Brady’s cum between them. The feeling left your brain fuzzy as you focused on it—its warmth and its stickiness with every stride. It was almost enough to leave you whimpering once you were in the privacy of your room, your hands quickly shutting the door behind you. 

The rush of the door left you teetering on your feet until you fell back, your shoulder blades meeting the door with a soft thud. You used its support to keep you upright as you reached down and pushed your panties from your legs. 

They were heavy and damp in your hold as you held them between your pinched fingers. Power blue fabric had dampened and darkened into a shade of blue that was more baby blue than powder blue as both Brady’s cum and your arousal left them soaking. You stared at them, your heartbeat pounding loud in your ears, as you dragged your fingers through Brady’s cum slowly. Your careful stroke worked it in through the cotton, working it into your own slick that your panties had kept him from. 

When you couldn’t see his cum any longer, you gasped, desperately inhaling as you realized you were holding your breath. Then, you dropped them, your eyes fixated on them as they fell on top of the rest of your clothing in the hamper. You stripped off your skirt next, adding it to the pill, then your shirt. When you stood naked inside your room, your body still leaning on the support of the door as you undressed, you reached out for the nearby tissues to wipe away the mess on the inside of your thighs that had already dried. 

You needed to shower. But you weren’t ready to wash yourself free of Brady completely. Not yet. You wanted the scent of his cologne to linger on your skin and in your hair. You wanted so much more of Brady—but it had already gone too far. 

It took you a moment for you to find your composure. Steady breaths keeping your mind was spiralling as you found a pair of loose-fitting pajama shorts and Brady’s old-oversized Minnesota Gophers crewneck that he had gifted you when you had gotten your acceptance letter. It would keep you warm in the cool, air-conditioned apartment, and a little more modest than the skirt and blouse you had been wearing. 

When you eased back into the living room, Brady was already back on the sofa, his clothing fixed back neatly on his frame, and his thick black hair quaffed just right. He was already lost in the episode of Entourage that you were sure would be ending soon. But it didn’t stop him from looking up at you, and offering a crooked smile. 

It was almost unnerving how he could sit there and act like nothing had happened. He was acting like your step-brother and not like the man who had just cum all over your panties. It seemed like things could so simply go back to normal for him, but to you the tension only seemed to grow. 

You found your way back to your place on the couch with hesitancy, almost scared of how little self-control you had when it came to being so close to Brady. The couch sunk beneath your weight. You could feel your dampness on the sofa, and you shifted, but that only brought you closer to Brady. Your knee knocked against his, and you held your breath of the heat of his body radiating against yours. It was almost maddening how it made your heart hammer and your thoughts spiral into sin. 

“Hungry?” Brady asked, his voice shuddering the chaos in your mind. 

He handed you your takeout container before you could refuse, his one arm reaching back to drape on the couch behind you to keep you close. Then he pressed, “You really should eat something after all that.” 

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him watching you. His eyes narrowed slightly before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple. 

The simple gesture sent all the tension melting from your body. You relaxed back into the embrace of his arm, your legs curling under you as you got comfortable and let your gaze fall on the television. And with a few lame jokes, and some laughter things felt like they meant to. 

Your summer had officially begun, and you couldn’t imagine spending it any other way. Just you and Brady—your step-brother, but he was so much more than that now.  

Join my taglist.