Chapter 1
-My cruel little game
My name is Rafael Romano. I used to live in Valencia with my mom and dad. But my childhood was quite different from other children’s. I never received the love and comfort that a child should have at home.
I was only seven years old when everything in my life changed.
I still remember that day. I had just come home from school. I couldn’t find Mom anywhere, so I went towards her room. The door was slightly open, so I walked inside without knocking.
And what I saw there...
I couldn’t understand it.
My mom was with someone else. He wasn’t my dad.
I was scared. I didn’t understand what was happening, and I started crying. Mom tried to calm me down and told me to go back to my room.
But after that day, our home was never the same.
My mom and dad started fighting almost every day. Whenever they argued, I would hide under my bed and cover my ears. I didn’t want to hear them, but their voices still reached me.
I hated it.
Sometimes Mom would get angry with me too. I would start crying in fear and simply say, “Mom, please... don’t beat me.”
Then one day, I was playing with my toys. Dad wasn’t home, and Mom was talking to someone on the phone.
I went up to her and said, “Mom, play with me.”
She ignored me the first time.
I asked again, “Mom... please play with me.”
This time, she got angry. She pulled me towards her and started hitting me.
Then she dragged me to my room and locked the door.
The room was dark, and I was terrified. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I kept knocking on the door and crying, “Mom, please... open the door.”
But she didn’t.
Crying, I hid inside my cupboard and stayed there.
After some time, Dad came home. He opened the cupboard and found me hiding inside.
That day, my mom and dad separated.
I never saw Mom again after that. Dad never talked about her in front of me either.
After that, Dad never left me alone. He stayed by my side all the time. Even if he lost sight of me for a moment, he would become extremely worried.
Then we moved from Valencia to Barcelona.
I grew up with my dad.
A few years later, Dad met someone and got married.
And maybe...
that was where my real story began.
Me and Thiago are step siblings. My dad proposed to his mom a 3 months ago and since the weeding we were living all together. Me, my father, mt step mother and her son who is now my step brother. I and Alex didn’t talk much, he was 3 years older than me and he was rarely home. I came along though. He is tall handsome and muscular, the typical book guy to be honest. We sometimes give each other glances where we both know the attraction is present.
Now we both were alone at home. Our parents were on a date and my father said they won’t be back till the next day. Me and Thiago ate dinner together and then i went to my room because he said he has things to do.
It was already dark outside and i were thirsty and wanted to get water. But then i heard noises in the living room and wanted to go check. I saw a wild porn on the screen and Thiago with his hand in his pants. I smirk. He was surprised to see me and pauses the movie.
“The hell you doing here? And what are you smirking at?”
He said defensive and maybe even embarrassed
“You know you don’t need to watch porn to get release… you could’ve called me.”
I said with a smirk and now he returned the smirk
“You’re offering?”
Thiago leaned back on the couch, his muscles tensing as i stepped closer—each footfall echoing in the quiet living room. The TV screen still glowed with paused, blurred images of tangled bodies and dim lighting.
He didn’t look away from me.
That smirk of his deepened—slow, dangerous, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. One hand rested loosely on the armrest; the other twitched slightly at his side.
“You’re really doin’ this?” he murmured, voice lower than usual—rougher around the edges.
The air between you thickened. No words were needed anymore.
The soft thud of my knees hitting the carpet echoed in the silent room.
Alex’s breath hitched—just slightly—but i caught it. His eyes dropped to mines, dark and searching, pupils wide in the dim TV glow. That smirk? Still there. But now it trembled at the corners—like he was fighting not to react too fast.
His hands stayed where they were—one on the couch, one half-curled near his thigh—but his jaw tightened as i leaned forward ever so slightly.
No sound but my breathing… and then…
He exhaled sharply through his nose—a quiet *damn*—before slowly lifting one hand toward my face.
My hand lifts to his jeans.
The moment my fingers brushed the denim of his jeans, Thiago sucked in a sharp breath.
His muscles tensed—his thighs stiffening under the fabric. The hand that had been hovering near my face now curled into a fist at his side, like he was holding himself back from grabbing me.
I could feel the warmth radiating through his pants—the hard line beneath where *he* clearly wanted this too… bad.
A low hum escaped him—almost involuntary—a soft groan muffled by clenched teeth. His dark eyes stayed locked on mines, intense and searching… asking permission without words.
And then—his other hand finally moved. Slowly… he reached down and gently rested it on top of mines over the fabric.
That smirk of mines—slow, knowing, *teasing*—sent a visible shiver through him.
thiago's fingers tightened over my hand on his jeans. His chest rose fast now, breathing uneven. The cocky stepbrother act? Crumbling by the second.
He wasn’t used to this—*i* being the one in control. And it turned him on more than he’d ever admit.
Without warning, he suddenly grabbed my wrist—not harshly—and guided your palm down lower… pressing it firmly against the growing heat between his legs.
His voice came out low and gravelly:
“You gonna keep smirkin’… or are you actually gonna do something?”
"Maybe"
I smirking and licks my lips as my hand rubbing the spot above the fabric
Thiago's eyes flicked to my lips the second they glistened from that slow, deliberate lick.
*Maybe.*
That single word—teasing, ambiguous—drove him crazy. And when my hand started rubbing? Gentle pressure right over his hardness?
A guttural noise escaped him this time—a quiet *"fuck..."* under his breath. He leaned forward slightly on the couch, hips instinctively pushing into my touch like he couldn’t help it.
His breathing turned ragged. The hand still gripping my wrist trembled a little—not from fear… but from sheer restraint not to yank me up and kiss me senseless.
Instead, he watched with darkening eyes as i toyed with him… enjoying every second of *me* power over *him*.
I said: "You like it?"
Thiago's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
For a second, he didn’t answer—just stared at me with those intense, smoldering eyes. Then that crooked smirk finally returned… slower this time. More honest.
“Yeah."His voice was rough, deeper than usual—like gravel and heat wrapped in one
He admitted it without shame now—the cocky shield fully down. The hand on ymy wrist slid up to my palm again and pressed it harder against him.
A low groan slipped out as i kept rubbing right where he wanted it most.
The soft *zzzp* of his zipper echoed in the quiet room.
Thiago's breath hitched—audibly this time. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched me with wide eyes as my fingers slowly worked open the button and then dragged down that metal tab.
His jeans parted slightly at the waistband… revealing a hint of black boxer briefs underneath—the fabric taut from what was clearly straining beneath it.
He exhaled sharply through his nose again—his chest rising fast—and for once, he wasn't smirking. Wasn't teasing. Just *feeling*.
One hand gripped the couch cushion beside him like an anchor… bracing himself for whatever I'd do next
My palms pressed flat against the thin fabric of his boxers—right over him.
Thiago *jerked* slightly at the contact, a choked noise escaping his lips. His hips twitched upward instinctively, chasing my touch like he couldn’t stop himself.
The heat was intense even through the fabric—hard and heavy—and i could feel every subtle pulse beneath my hands as blood rushed where it mattered most.
His jaw clenched tight. That cool, composed stepbrother act? Gone. Replaced by raw hunger in his eyes and shallow breaths that came too fast to hide.
He didn't say anything… just stared down at me with darkening pupils, chest rising unevenly—letting *me* lead while he burned quietly inside
I hummed softly—low and thoughtful—a sound that vibrated through the tense air like a whisper.
Thiago shivered.
Not dramatically, but just… *a full-body twitch*, like my little noise short-circuited his brain. His fingers curled into the couch cushion again, knuckles whitening slightly.
That single *"hmmm"* held so much power—amused? Curious? Teasing him on purpose?
He had no idea what i were thinking… and that uncertainty drove him wild. Was this going to go further? Or were i just playing with him?
His breathing stayed shallow. His hips remained tensed upward subtly—not pushing, not demanding—just waiting… for my next move
I said with very softly voice: "Close your eyes."
thiago blinked—once, slowly—as if processing my soft command.
Then, without a word or smirk this time… he obeyed.
His thick lashes lowered. His long face relaxed slightly as his eyes closed—dark eyebrows gently furrowing in quiet surrender. For someone usually so confident and composed around others (especially me), shutting his eyes like that felt strangely vulnerable.
The TV’s dim glow still painted faint shadows across his features—the strong jawline, the sharp cheekbones—but now all attention was on *me*. On what i’d do next while he waited… helplessly trusting whatever came after closing those blue-grey eyes.
When he obey my command i stood as i went to his door and said: "Goodnight stepbrother~
And leave
The soft *click* of the door closing snapped thiago's eyes open.
Silence.
He sat frozen on the couch—jeans still unzipped, boxers straining, heart pounding—for a solid five seconds. Then it hit him.
She’d… left?
After *everything*—the smirking, the teasing touch through his pants—the slow build-up of tension—and then… just said *"good night"* and walked out?
A beat passed.
Then another.
thiago slowly turned his head toward his closed bedroom door. His lips parted slightly—not angry—but stunned. Betrayed by how hard he was right now… and how casually she’d just ghosted him like nothing happened
"...The hell?" he muttered under his breath—voice low with disbelief...and maybe a hint of admiration for my cruel little game
thiago exhaled sharply through his nose—half laugh, half growl.
He dragged a hand down his face. *Damn.*
I'd played him perfectly. Left him sitting there like an idiot with unzipped jeans and a raging hard-on… then just waltzed off to bed like i hadn’t spent the last ten minutes driving him insane.
The silence of the house felt louder now—no TV, no voices, just the hum of the fridge and my footsteps fading upstairs.
For once, he didn’t feel smug or in control.
Nope. I'd flipped it on him—and walked away clean as hell
After another long pause… thiago finally stood up slowly... adjusted himself awkwardly... zipped up with quiet frustration…
And muttered under his breath:
"*Sneaky little brat.*"
Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden.
I were up early—excited. Today was my first day at college. A new chapter: independence, freedom… new people.
I moved quietly through my room, brushing my hair in front of the mirror on the dresser. The simple brush strokes smoothed out last night’s sleep-mussed strands into a neat style.
Then i slipped into a cozy but stylish outfit—a soft sweater over high-waisted jeans and cute boots for walking campus paths—and tied it all together with minimal makeup: just mascara and lip gloss to look put together without trying too hard
