Pure Vengeance

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Adrian

I lie on the bed, breathing hard. My ass is aching from the beating it’s taken, but I’ve never come so hard in my life. It takes me right back to that night.

It had been stormy, and we’d been cooped up inside for far too long. Our parents were away on a trip, so it was just Noah and myself in the house.

I’d gone to him to see what was for dinner. He’d been busy painting. He was always painting or playing piano. I close my eyes, and I put myself back there.

One year ago

“ Noah? Noah?” I walk into his room, banging the door open.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Noah asks.

I frown and hold my hands out. “Ever heard of answering when you’re called?”

“I’m busy,” he says.

“You’re always busy. But it’s time to decide what’s for dinner, we need to cook,” I say. “We can’t eat takeout every night. I have to watch my calories.”

“Oh, lord help us, you put on an ounce of fat,” Noah says, not even looking at me.

I frown, disgusted. “I work hard to maintain my body, unlike you. Not all of us are just naturally lithe and good-looking.”

Noah smiles. “Thanks for the compliment.”

I flush and put my hands on my hips. “Dinner?”

“Fine, fine.” He sets his palette and brush down and stands up. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know, maybe turkey sandwiches.”

“And you really need me to make those?” He frowns. “You’re just wasting my time now.”

I smirk. “Hardly. We need to both eat. Mom said I must make sure you eat, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Noah walks past and downstairs to the kitchen with me following. I take out the turkey, and he gets the bread. I take out the mustard while he takes out mayo. He always has to be different.

I take out the butter and spread it on the bread. I hum to myself while I work.

“What song is that? It sounds familiar.” He looks up as lightning strikes, and a moment later, the power goes out.

“Great,” I mutter.

“At least we’re not cooking,” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a flashlight, turning it on.

“I’ll get the candles.”

“How romantic,” he coos, laughing.

I set out the candles and light them with a lighter I find in the drawer. I continue to make my sandwich. Noah makes his own. When we’re done, we clean up before we stand and eat our sandwiches since the only light is in the kitchen at the moment.

I wipe the counter down when we’re done and load our plates into the dishwasher. “Want a beer?” Noah asks.

“Those are Dad’s,” I comment.

“He won’t notice.” He hands me one and opens one for himself. He sips it and smiles. “Live a little.”

I sigh and open the beer, sipping it. It’s strong. We shouldn’t be drinking; I promised Mom we’d be responsible.

“So you’re really going to pledge to that other fraternity?” I ask. “After Dad specifically asked you not to?”

“He’s not my owner,” he says. “And neither are you.”

“I didn’t say I was your owner,” I reply, flustered. “I’m just saying there is a family tradition to uphold.”

“Tradition, schmadition.” Noah downs his beer and then tosses the can. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Not while living under Dad’s roof,” I point out, still sipping mine.

Noah approaches me slowly. “Oh really? And what’s he going to do? I’ve got a full-ride arts scholarship.”

“And I have a full-ride football scholarship. I’m still expected to follow his rules,” I say, backing up a little until I hit the counter.

Noah stands within a few inches of me and whispers, “Are you going to tell on me?”

I shake my head. He seems so dangerous. I swallow and lean back as he moves forward.

“You scared, Adrian?”

“No one calls me Adrian,” I say, annoyed.

“Oooh, tough guy.” He moves a little closer and pins me to the counter. I’m bigger than him, but in this moment, I’m scared. I’ve seen him get violent. I’ve seen him cut himself open just to watch blood drip onto a canvas. My stepbrother is fucking psychotic, even if my parents don’t know to what extent.

“Leave me alone,” I say, moving to shift away from him.

He grabs my throat and grips it. I choke slightly as he presses his lips against mine and kisses me. I resist at first, wanting to fight him off. I try to push him away, but his grip on my throat tightens, and I’m genuinely scared he’ll choke me to death.

He slides his tongue into my mouth, and I can taste the beer he drank. My beer slips out my hand and onto the floor, where it no doubt spills its contents. I press both my hands against his chest, but he flexes and presses our bodies together.

Noah - A Year Ago

I don’t know what made me think this would be a good idea. Maybe I just want to make Adrian uncomfortable, maybe it was the beer. There is something enticing about him when he gets bossy with me though, and since we’ve been on our own, I’ve noticed it more and more.

Now my fingers are wrapped around his throat and squeezing gently. What I wouldn’t do to nick his shoulder and suck the blood from his body. The thought makes me hard, and I press my body against his as we continue to kiss. I hear the clunk of the can he drops on the floor and feel the beer soak my socks, but I don’t care.

He tastes delightful, and I don’t want this to end. My body is betraying me. I wanted to deny the attraction I have toward him, but in the dark, with candles in the background and beer in my belly, albeit not my first one of the day, I realize I’m pushing the limits. Or rather, my inhibitions are lowered.

I trail my hand down his body toward his cock, wanting to see if he’s as big as I think he is.

He clutches my hand, and I finally end the kiss. He finds his strength because he pushes me off and mumbles about cleaning the beer. He walks off, and I shake my head. I know he enjoyed that as much as I did. The fucking pretender. He might never admit it, but that’s his problem.

It’s not like I can be open about a relationship with my stepbrother, anyway. Homosexuality isn’t allowed in this house. My father would hate my guts if I were with any man.

I need to hide this. To cover this up, and I think I know the right cheerleaders to do it. For a couple of hundred, they might just be willing to pretend they’ve slept with me. If enough rumors get circled, then no one will ever doubt my sexuality. It will never get back to my father.

As far as anyone is concerned, I’ll be a nice little hetero boy who the girls fall all over.

I will need everyone to believe that.

Adrian comes back with a mop, and I smirk at him. He blushes and mops up the beer. “You’re going to get it everywhere with your socks.”

I take my socks off, going to the laundry to throw them in the basket.

I turn and watch Adrian cleaning, and I shake my head. What was I thinking?

He’s a douchebag, but I’m sure he’ll keep quiet. I’ll make sure of it if I need to.

By force if that’s what it takes.

Besides, my father will be in such denial he won’t believe Adrian over me.