I walked down the crowded street, the smells of the city's diverse cuisine wafting through the air as the neon lights reflected off the damp sidewalks. The townhouse stood out amidst the concrete jungle, a bastion of history with its intricate facade and ivy-covered bricks. As I approached, the sound of my sneakers echoed against the cobblestone path that led to our front door.
When I stepped inside, the aroma of simmering spices and roasting meat greeted me, a stark contrast to the cool evening outside. I took off my coat and hung it on the rack, noticing the faint hum of laughter and pans clanging coming from the kitchen. It was a rare sight to find my mother, Penelope, cooking. Her job kept her away from home most nights, leaving dinner duties to me and my stepdad Duke. She looked up from her recipe book, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Jayce, honey, I'm making your favorite!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Duke emerging from the living room, a dish towel slung over his broad shoulder. His muscular frame filled the doorway, casting a warm shadow. "Hope you're hungry," he said with a grin, his pale blue eyes meeting mine. "Your mom's been slaving away in here all afternoon."
I smirked at his playful tone. "I'm surprised you didn't offer to lend a hand," I teased, glancing at his spotless hands. "Could've used your culinary genius."
Duke chuckled, flexing his bicep. "Ah, but cooking is an art form, Jayce. And one that I graciously leave to the masters." He winked at Penelope, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Besides, when you two start whipping up a storm in here, I know to stay out of the way. Last time I tried to help, I think I set a smoke alarm record."
Penelope swatted him with her own towel. "You're not that bad," she said, though the hint of a smile told a different story. "But tonight I wanted to treat us all to a home-cooked meal anyway."
The three of us sat down at the long, polished dining table. The food looked and smelled divine. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of small talk about my day at college and Duke's latest gym triumphs. Despite the age gap, we had a natural rapport that had developed over the past two years. As the evening went on, I found myself watching the way Duke's forearms bulged as he served the food and how his eyes crinkled when he laughed at one of my mom's jokes. I had to admit, he was a catch.
Mom looked stunning, as always. Her gentle nature and beauty had drawn Duke in, and it wasn't hard to see why. The soft glow of the pendant lights above the table highlighted her delicate features and the warmth in her eyes. She had always had a way of making everyone feel welcome, and Duke was no exception. They were an odd couple in some ways, with her being so petite and him so towering, but it was their shared love for fitness and good humor that seemed to bridge the gap.
Duke, with his Nordic looks and sculpted body, was the epitome of masculine grace. He moved around the table with ease, filling our glasses and passing the dishes, his muscles flexing subtly under his tight-fitting shirt. His blond hair was cut short, showing off the strong line of his jaw and the faint dusting of freckles across his cheeks. The way he interacted with Penelope was genuine and affectionate, making it clear that he treated her like a queen.
I often found myself lost in thought during our dinners, observing the way Duke and my mom interacted. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly despite their differences and age gap. His broad shoulders bent slightly to listen to her stories, and her eyes would light up with pride at his successes. They were a picture of companionship that I had never thought possible for my mother after my dad had passed away.
Tonight was no different. The candles on the table cast a warm glow over their faces, emphasizing the softness of my mother's skin and the sharpness of Duke's jawline. She spoke animatedly about her latest work project, gesturing with her slender hands, while Duke nodded along, a smile never leaving his lips. His pale skin contrasted with the dark wooden table, a stark reminder of his Viking-like origins. The way he leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, showcased his defined pecs and biceps, a testament to the hours he spent in his gym.
The food was excellent, a fusion of my mother's Southern charm and Duke's adventurous palate. He had introduced her to a world of flavors she had never experienced before, and she had embraced them with open arms.
The dinner passed in a blur of laughter and stories, the clinking of silverware against plates a comforting soundtrack to our evening. The way they looked at each other, the easy camaraderie they shared, made me feel a pang of something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was a strange mix of happiness for my mother and a hint of envy for what they had. But as I took in the sight of them, the thought grew stronger.
Duke was everything I found attractive in a man—handsome, strong, and kind, but utterly manly—yet he was my stepfather. It was a forbidden crush that had been festering since the day he'd moved in. I had pushed it aside, telling myself that it was just admiration for a good-looking guy. But as the months turned into years, the lines began to blur.
As we cleared the dinner plates, my mother already in her study, the clinking of silverware against the porcelain echoing through the kitchen, the conversation took a surprising turn.
"So, your mom told me about your breakup," Duke said casually, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the quiet space. "Tough one?"
I nodded, trying to keep my cool. "Yeah, it's been... interesting." I didn't bother explaining the details of my ex's dramatic exit from my life. "But it's over now."
Duke handed me a wet plate to dry, his grin mischievous. "Interesting, huh?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. "You know, I've heard you guys last night. Sounded like you were breaking the bed in half instead of breaking up."
I felt my cheeks flush as I took the plate, the heat of his teasing palpable. "Duke," I chided, trying to keep my voice steady, "...you did?"
He leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, come on," he said, his grin widening, "It's not like I could miss it. Sounded like the whole house was shaking."
My face burned brighter than the stove's gas flame. "Well, you know how it is," I replied awkwardly, trying to brush it off. "Sometimes the chemistry is just... explosive."
Duke chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I've been there," he said, his gaze lingering on me a moment too long. "But you know, sometimes it's not just about the pounding. But I guess you know that already, since you broke up."
I nodded, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. "Toby was... good in bed," I admitted, "but we just weren't on the same page about what we wanted. Last night was just... He came to get his things. It just happened."
Duke's laugh boomed through the kitchen. "Jacked studs, huh?" He flexed his arms again, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Well, I can't comment on his interlect, but his... physique... isn't exactly hard to miss. Can't say I blame you for being seduced," he said with a knowing smile, "I know we studs can't help but turn heads." He winked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh. It was a classic Duke move, using humor to cut through any tension in the room.
"But you know what they say, Jayce," he continued, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, "Tall, dark, and handsome can be a bit too much. Sometimes you've gotta appreciate the blonds with brawn." He shot a look at his own reflection in the fridge, flexing again. Despite his playfulness, his words hit closer to home than he probably intended.
I chuckled, feeling the tension ease. "Yeah, I guess so." I turned away, focusing on the dishes. The water in the sink grew hotter, and the soap bubbles grew larger, my mind racing with thoughts that had no place in my mother's kitchen.
"You okay, Jayce?" Duke's voice was soft, his hand landing gently on my shoulder. "Did I say something that upset you?"
I shook my head, turning to face him. "No, not at all," I assured him, forcing a smile. "It's just... breakups, you know? They mess with your head."
Duke's expression softened, his hand moving from my shoulder to give my arm a comforting squeeze. "Yeah, I know how it is," he said, his voice gentle. "But you're young, you'll find someone better. Someone who'll make you forget all about this Toby guy."
The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through my body, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if those hands were on me, not just offering comfort. But I quickly pushed the thought away, reminding myself that this was my mother's husband and my stepfather. It was a line I had sworn never to cross, no matter how strong the attraction grew. With the last plate in hand, I decided it was time to escape the kitchen before I did something stupid.
"Thanks, Duke," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I rinsed the plate under the running water. "I'm gonna go crash in my room for a bit. Got a big exam tomorrow."
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. "No problem, buddy," he said, giving my arm another squeeze before turning back to the dishes. "Let me know if you need anything."
With the last plate in the dishwasher, I made my way upstairs, my heart still racing from our conversation. In the safety of my room, I leaned against the closed door, taking deep breaths to calm the storm inside me. I couldn't deny the obvious—I had a raging boner, and it was all because of my stepfather. The line between admiration and attraction had been crossed, and I knew I needed to get a grip.
I decided to jerk off, hoping to purge my mind of these forbidden thoughts. Stripping off my clothes, I sat on the edge of my bed and took myself in hand. I thought of Toby... his piercing blue eyes, his thick black hair, and that body—a sculpted masterpiece of Italian heritage. His cock had been a thing of beauty, a perfect blend of thickness and length that had filled me up so good. The way he'd flex his muscles when he was on top of me, his abs rippling as he drove into me—it was like watching a porn star in person.
I stroked myself harder, remembering the feel of his weight on me, his powerful thrusts that had made me see stars. But as good as the sex had been, our goals in life had been worlds apart. Toby was all about the gym and the chase, the pursuit of the next big high. Me, I had my studies, my future, and my family. As I brought myself closer to the edge, I allowed my thoughts to drift back to Tobi for one last time. His strong arms holding me down, his deep voice whispering sweet nothings that sent shivers down my spine. The way he'd spread my cheeks and plunge into me, filling me completely. The way his muscles would flex and bulge as he fucked me senseless....
And before I knew it, I was on the edge of climax. I pictured him in my mind's eye,the way he'd whisper dirty things into my ear, calling me his little ass slut, had always driven me wild and so did the memory. The sound of his heavy breathing, the feeling of his sweat-slicked skin against my own, it was all too much to handle, to hold back. With a strangled moan, I came, my hot cum spurting onto my stomach and chest. The orgasm washed over me like a wave, not the strongest one I've had, but it was enough to release the pent-up tension that had been building since my dinner conversation.
My body trembled with the aftermath, and I collapsed back onto the bed, panting heavily. The room was silent except for the sound of my ragged breaths. I wiped the cum off my chest with a towel, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. What was happening to me? Why was I thinking about Duke like this? He was my mother's husband, for fuck's sake. I closed my eyes, willing myself to forget the way his muscles had looked in the candlelight, the way his arms had flexed as he'd served the food. But no matter how hard I tried, the image remained burned into my brain.
