Love Scars | Gay Incest Romance

I reeked of sex.

The days had blurred into one long, dizzy mess of alcohol, coke, and naked women, leaving my memories tangled in a knot I couldn’t hope to untangle.

Some strange woman lay next to me. I must have met her during one of those nights I barely remembered. Her hair fanned out in every direction like she was an angel that had fallen straight into my bed. Broken wings, no halo.

I fumbled around for my phone, squinting at the bright screen. Six-thirty p.m. Great. Another day wasted. I called Lucas, my twin. The ringing in my ears felt like punishment. For a second, I considered bashing my head against the headboard to make it stop. Then his voice cut through the noise.

“Why the hell are you calling?”

Not exactly warm.

“I need you.” My voice was shot, the words crawling out like they were scraping my throat raw.

Self-loathing came in waves, relentless, like the tide. The worse it got, the more I turned to whatever I could find—sex, booze, anything to numb it for a while. I fucked anyone who’d open their legs for a couple of hundred dollars and a bottle of something strong.

“When don’t you need me?” His irritation seeped through the phone. We’d long passed the days when he was the only thing I wanted.

“Don’t act like that,” I said, but it came out more like a plea than anything. “Just come over.”

There was a pause, then some rustling, the sound of fabric shifting and a muffled voice in the background. Some girl, probably urging him back to bed.

“I gotta go,” Lucas said, and the line went dead.

Fuck.

I tossed my phone at the wall and listened to the dull thud as it hit. The woman beside me shifted, curling closer, wrapping herself around me like she belonged there. Lemongrass and bad decisions. Her legs tangled with mine, her face buried in my neck, like this was something more than it was.

Sex was fine. More than fine, even. But mornings like this, when it was over, felt like being trapped. The way she was holding me—too close, too much—it made me feel like I was drying out, bit by bit. She was a band-aid over a bullet wound. And she’d forget my name by the end of the week, assuming I’d given it to her in the first place.

The door creaked open, and I didn’t have to look to know who it was. A voice, soft and uncertain, called my name.

Theodore stood there, hovering just inside the doorway, like he wasn’t sure if he should come any closer. His eyes darted to the woman in my bed, then back to me. “I… I didn’t know you had company,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

I nudged the woman off me gently, motioning for Theodore to come closer. He shuffled his feet across the floor, dragging out the steps like he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to.

“You don’t have to go,” I said, sitting up, making space. “She’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

Theodore edged closer until he stood between my legs, and I reached up, brushing his hair out of his face. It was getting too long again, falling into his eyes. He still had on his school uniform, the tie undone and his jacket unbuttoned.

“I saw your car out front,” he mumbled, biting his lip. He always did that—bit his lip until it was raw, like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. “Got excited you were home.”

“You missed me?” I asked, smiling a little as I pulled him closer.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, like it was obvious. “It’s boring here without you. Papa’s never home. And Lucas is… well, he’s Lucas. You know he never stays long. I can’t even have friends over. Not that it matters—everyone in my grade’s too busy getting high to talk to anyone.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest. He was so warm, and he smelled like lavender and fabric softener, like he always did. “I’m back now. You won’t have to be bored anymore.”

He gave a soft huff, a hint of relief mixed with something else. I pulled back to look at him, catching the small crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

For a second, it felt like the weight pressing on my chest had lifted. Just a little. Just enough to breathe. Hell, he was better than Lucas.

“For good? You won’t disappear on me again, will you?” His voice wavered, like he was scared to hear the answer.

I kissed his forehead, a sense of something—maybe peace, maybe something close to it—settling in my chest. “For good, Bambino.”

Behind me, the woman stirred, a soft groan escaping her as she woke. I glanced over my shoulder, then back at Theodore. His eyes were on her now, and I could feel the tension radiating off him.

“Go shower and change,” I told him. “I’ll make dinner tonight.”

He hugged me, squeezing tighter than I expected, and dashed out of the room. I stood up, stretching, running a hand through my greasy hair. I needed a shower too. Badly.

The woman blinked sleepily at me, smiling like we’d shared something more than a few hours.

“I had a great time last night,” she said, her eyes trailing down to my half-hard dick. “Want me to help with that?”

“You can go,” I replied, sharper than I meant to.

She frowned, pulling the sheet tighter around herself. “Seriously? You’re kicking me out?”

I paid for this, for her. We weren’t friends.

“Bye.” I handed her a toiletry bag, pointing toward the guest bathroom. “Don’t forget to sign the NDA on your way out.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering something I didn’t bother listening to as she got out of bed.

I headed to the bathroom, stepping into the shower. The water hit my face, hot and hard, as if it could wash away more than just the sweat and grime clinging to my skin. When I was alone like this, my thoughts had a way of creeping in, filling up the empty spaces with all the things I didn’t want to think about. All the mistakes. All the regrets.

When I came out, towel around my waist, Theodore was sitting on the counter by the sink, fiddling with his fingers.

“Bambino?”

“I… I thought maybe you’d left again,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was trying to convince himself I was still here.

I cupped his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin under my hands. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

I kissed his forehead again, trying to press that promise into him.

Theodore had always been clingy. When we were younger, it was all Prince this and Prince that. He never wanted to let me out of his sight. I’d tried to put some distance between us as he grew older, thinking it would help him. Lora thought it was for the best too. But sometimes, I missed those days when he’d curl up on my chest and just breathe with me.

That closeness had kept me from going under more times than I’d ever admit.

Theodore watched me shave, his eyes tracking the movement of the razor. “Can I help?”

His hands were always shaky, but the look on his face made it impossible to say no.

“Alright,” I said, handing it to him. I guided his hand, feeling the slight tremor as we moved the blade over my skin. He was focused, eyes narrowed in concentration, until his hand shook a little too much, nicking my cheek.

I barely winced. “You did good, Bambino.”

He beamed, and I wiped the shaving cream from my face.

“When I grow facial hair, will you teach me how to shave?”

I didn’t think he’d be getting any for a while—he was seventeen and still hadn’t sprouted a single strand. But I smiled anyway.

“Sure thing, Bambino.” I ruffled his hair.