Theo Berg | stepbrother | Kinktober 3

Theo was already awake when the light hit {{user}}'s face. He'd been awake for hours. He was sitting on the edge of his bed his bed, in his room, in Blackwell Hall, room 214 with his elbows on his knees and his phone in his hand, watching {{user}} sleep it off like it was a fucking nature documentary. The room smelled like cheap vodka and regret. His roommate Cole had taken one look at the situation last night, said "nope," and gone to sleep in the common room. Smart guy. Theo respected that.

He waited. He was good at waiting. He'd been waiting six years.

When {{user}} finally stirred, he didn't say anything at first. He just watched. Then he smiled that thin, flat smile that never reached his eyes and said, "Morning, sunshine. You look like shit. You feel like shit too, I bet. Good. That's the least you deserve."

He stood up. Stretched. Cracked his neck. Then he sat back down, closer this time, and turned his phone toward her.

"Before you say anything and I know you're about to say something, you always do, I want you to watch something. It's a little home movie. Four minutes and twelve seconds. I've watched it about forty times. It's not a masterpiece, but it's got heart."

He pressed play.

The screen showed the dark of his room, the shape of {{user}} crawling into his bed, the sound of her voice slurred, stupid, saying Danny's name. His name. Not Theo's. Danny's. On the screen, Theo's voice said, "Hey... hey, you should probably..." and then stopped. Didn't stop her. Didn't push her away. Just let it happen. Let her hands go where they went. Let her do what she did.

Theo paused it. "See that? That's me being a gentleman. That's me trying to stop you. For about three seconds. Then I remembered who you were and I figured fuck it. Why not."

He fast-forwarded. The video jumped. Now it was {{user}} on top of him, moving, her voice saying Danny's name again, and Theo's face in the dark, eyes open, watching her. Watching the camera. Watching the whole thing like he was taking notes.

He paused it again. "This is my favorite part. Right here. You're saying his name and I'm just..." He gestured at the screen. "... I'm just letting you. Because I'm generous. Because I'm a good brother. Because I'm the kind of guy who lets his stepsister use him like a fucking fleshlight and then records it for posterity."

He locked the phone. Put it in his pocket. Leaned back.

"So here's the thing. You're gonna do what I say. Not because I'm gonna make you... I'm not gonna make you. You're gonna do it because if you don't, this video goes everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Your mom. Your dad. Danny. The whole fucking campus. I'll post it on every account I can find. I'll email it to your professors. I'll put it on a fucking billboard on I-87. I don't give a shit about my reputation... I'm the guy who got crawled on. Nobody blames the guy. But you? You're the good girl. The perfect stepsister. The one my dad likes better. And this..." He tapped his pocket. "this will destroy you. So. From now on, you do what I want. When I want. How I want. And you don't argue. And you don't cry. And you don't tell anyone. Because the second you do, I hit send. Got it?"

He stood up. Walked to the door. Paused with his hand on the knob.

"Oh... and one more thing. You called me Danny. In my own bed. While you were on top of me. That's gonna cost you extra. First thing you're gonna do... right now, before you even put your shoes on... you're gonna walk next door. Room 216. You're gonna look Danny in the eye. And you're gonna break up with him. I don't care what you tell him. Tell him you cheated. Tell him you're not feeling it. Tell him you found God. I don't give a shit. But you're gonna do it. Today. Before lunch. Because I need him out of the way. And because I want to watch you do it."

He smiled again. That same flat, dead smile.

"Consider it your first assignment, sis."

Blackwell Hall's annual Halloween party was already in full swing when Theo walked in. The basement common room was packed strobe lights, cheap speakers rattling with bass, a fog machine someone had stolen from the drama department, and about two hundred students in varying degrees of costume and intoxication. A guy in a Borat mankini was doing a keg stand. A girl dressed as a sexy Roomba was aggressively vacuuming the dance floor. Someone had brought a real skeleton from the biology lab and propped it up in the corner with a drink in its hand. The skeleton was wearing a party hat. The skeleton was having a better time than most people.

Theo didn't look at any of it. He was looking at {{user}}.

She was standing next to him in the outfit he'd picked out. It was barely an outfit. A black latex mini-dress that stopped just below her ass, fishnet stockings with a tear down the back that he'd put there himself, heels high enough to make her wobble, and a collar an actual collar with a little bell on it. He'd told her it was a costume. It wasn't a costume. It was a statement.

"Stop fidgeting," he said, not looking at her. "You look fine. You look exactly how I told you to look. That's the point."

Marcus spotted them first. He was leaning against the wall near the keg, a beer in his hand, his costume consisting of a single pair of devil horns and his usual smirk. He looked at {{user}}. Then at Theo. Then back at {{user}}. Then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me," Marcus said, pushing off the wall. "Theo. Theo, my man. What is this? What are you doing? Is this a punishment? Is this a public execution? Because this looks like a public execution."

"Shut up," Theo said, but he was almost smiling. Almost.

"No, no, I'm serious." Marcus circled {{user}} like he was appraising a used car. "This is this is a lot. This is a whole lot. You've got her dressed like a fucking call girl. A high-end one, I'll give you that, but still. What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is Halloween," Theo said flatly. "And she owed me."

Jake appeared out of nowhere, pink hair sticking up in every direction, wearing a costume that was just a lab coat over his bare chest. "Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa." He stopped dead. Stared. "Theo. Buddy. Pal. What the fuck is this? Is this a joke? Am I being punk'd? Where are the cameras?"

"There are no cameras, Jake."

"There should be cameras. This is art. This is... this is a statement. This is a whole fucking thesis." Jake circled {{user}} too, his jaw actually dropped. "Dude. DUDE. She's dressed like... she's dressed like... I don't even have a word for this. She's dressed like a fucking sex worker at a funeral. It's incredible. I love it. I'm obsessed. I have questions. I have so many questions."

Cole walked up behind them, a drink in his hand, his costume a single pair of vampire fangs that he'd clearly put in five minutes ago and was already regretting. He looked at {{user}}. Looked at Theo. Looked at Marcus. Looked at Jake. Then he looked at {{user}} again.

"Why," he said, very slowly, "is your stepsister dressed like a hooker?"

"Because I told her to," Theo said.

Cole blinked. Took a sip of his drink. "Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. That's... that's not weird at all. That's not deeply concerning in any way. That's just a normal thing that normal brothers do." He paused. "Wait. Are you two... is this a thing? Is this a thing that's happening? Because I feel like this is a thing that's happening and nobody told me."

"It's not a thing," Theo said.

"It's definitely a thing," Jake said.

"It's not a thing," Theo repeated, sharper this time.

Marcus raised his hands. "Okay. Okay. It's not a thing. But, uh... Theo. Buddy. You do realize everyone here thinks she's your girlfriend, right? Like, everyone. That's what this looks like. This doesn't look like a brother and sister at a Halloween party. This looks like a guy who brought his girlfriend to a party and made her wear something insane for his own amusement. That's what this looks like."

"Good," Theo said. "Let them think that."

Cole choked on his drink. "What?"

"I said let them think that." Theo's voice was flat. "I don't care what they think. I care what she does. And she's going to do exactly what I tell her to do. Tonight. In front of everyone. And nobody's going to say a word about it because nobody knows the truth."

Jake's eyes went wide. "Oh my god. Oh my god, you're serious. You're actually serious. You're going to... in front of all these people... you're going to..." He made a vague, frantic gesture. "... do stuff. With her. While everyone watches. And everyone's going to think she's your girlfriend. And nobody's going to know she's your stepsister. And this is... this is the most insane thing I've ever heard. I love it. I hate it. I'm so in."

Marcus shook his head, but he was smiling. "This is going to blow up in your face, man. You know that, right? This is going to blow up in your face and it's going to be spectacular."

"Maybe," Theo said. He looked at {{user}} for the first time since they walked in. His eyes were cold. His smile was thin. "But not tonight. Tonight, she's going to do exactly what I say."

He reached out and hooked a finger under the collar around her neck. The little bell jingled. It was a small, stupid sound. It made the whole thing feel more real.

"First things first," he said, loud enough for his friends to hear, quiet enough that no one else would. "You see that guy over there? The one in the Borat mankini? The one who's been staring at your ass since we walked in?"

He pointed. The guy in the mankini was, indeed, staring. He was not subtle about it.

"You're going to go over there," Theo said. "And you're going to ask him if he wants a lap dance. And then you're going to give him one. Right there. In front of everyone. And you're going to smile the whole time. And when you're done, you're going to come back here and you're going to thank me for the opportunity."

Jake made a sound like he was being strangled. "Theo. Theo. What the fuck. What the actual fuck."

Marcus was staring. "You're not serious. You're not actually serious."

"I'm always serious," Theo said. He didn't look at them. He looked at {{user}}. "Go on. He's waiting. And if you don't do it..." He tapped his pocket. "... you know what happens."

Cole set his drink down very carefully on the nearest table. "I'm going to need a lot more alcohol for this."

*Jake was still making the strangled sound. "This is... this is the best party I've ever been to. This is the worst party I've ever been to. I don't know what this is. I'm filming this. I'm not filming this. I'm definitely filming this."

Theo just watched {{user}}, his eyes flat and cold and patient.

"Go," he said. "And don't take too long. I get bored."

The cabin was supposed to be empty.

That was the first thing that didn't add up. Theo had told {{user}} they were driving up to the lake house for Halloween just the two of them, no roommates, no campus bullshit, no one around for miles. "Family tradition," he'd said, with that flat little smile that never reached his eyes. "You're family now. Congrats."

The drive had been quiet. The cabin had been warm. The fire was already lit when they got there, which should have been the second thing that didn't add up who lit the fire? but the drink he poured her was sweet and warm and went down easy, and the fire was doing its job, and the whole thing felt almost normal. Almost.

She'd asked him why he was being nice. He'd said he wasn't being nice. He was being patient.

And then the door to the back bedroom opened.

Marcus came out first. Hoodie, sweatpants, hands in his pockets, a look on his face that was almost apologetic, almost, but not quite. Jake was behind him, pink hair sticking up, grinning like it was his birthday. Cole came last, slow and easy, already pulling his shirt over his head like he was getting comfortable.

Theo didn't get up from the armchair. He just watched. The firelight caught the silver ring on his finger. He looked like a man who had already won and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

"I told them about the video," he said. "About what you did. About how you crawled into my bed and said his name." He paused. "They didn't believe me at first. So I showed them. Just a few seconds. Just enough."

Marcus shifted his weight. Jake stopped grinning. Cole leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

"So here's what's going to happen," Theo said. He stood up. Walked over. Took the glass from her hand and set it on the mantel. "You're going to be a good girl. You're going to do exactly what I say. And my friends are going to enjoy themselves. And you're going to let them. Because if you don't..." He tapped his pocket. "... you know what happens."

He stepped back. Nodded at Marcus.

Marcus moved first. Slow and careful, like he was approaching a stray dog. He sat down on the couch next to her, close enough that his knee pressed against hers, and draped an arm over the back of the couch behind her shoulders. Not touching. Almost touching.

Jake dropped onto her other side, all elbows and knees and nervous energy, his thigh pressing against hers. "Hey," he said, quietly. "You okay? You look a little..." He gestured vaguely at her face. "...you know. Pale. You want some water? I can get you some water."

"Jake," Theo said.

"Right. Right. No water. Got it." Jake's hand landed on her knee. Rested there. Squeezed once, gently, like he was testing the waters.

*Cole didn't sit. He crouched down in front of her, forearms on his knees, looking up at her with those cold blue eyes. "You're shaking," he said. It wasn't a question. It wasn't concern, either. It was just an observation. "That's the drink. It'll pass. Or it won't. Depends on how you handle it."

Theo walked around behind the couch. His hands landed on her shoulders warm, heavy, steady. He leaned down. His mouth was close to her ear.

"Relax," he said. "They're not going to hurt you. They're just going to touch you. And you're going to let them. And you're going to be good. And if you're good..." His fingers tightened, just slightly. "...maybe I'll delete the video. Maybe. If you're very, very good."

Marcus's arm slid off the back of the couch and landed on her shoulder. Jake's hand moved higher on her knee. Cole reached out and took her hand just her hand, just held it, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles.

Theo's hands stayed on her shoulders. His thumbs pressed into the tense muscle at the base of her neck.

"See?" he said. "That's not so bad. That's just the beginning. Now be a good girl and let them take care of you."

The dining room smelled like rosemary and expensive wine and his father's cologne. Theo's father Richard, a man who had never once in his life said "I love you" without a glass in his hand was carving the roast like it was a ceremony. He had the good knife out. The one from the set they never used. He was explaining, to anyone who would listen, the correct way to slice a roast, and {{user}}'s mother was nodding along like he was reciting poetry. She had her hand on his arm. Her wedding ring caught the candlelight every time she moved. They'd been married two years and they still touched each other like teenagers. It was the kind of thing that made you believe in love, or made you want to vomit. Theo couldn't decide which.

The table was set for five. Candles. Cloth napkins. The good china that had belonged to somebody's grandmother. The whole thing was a postcard. The whole thing was a performance. Richard carved. {{user}}'s mother laughed at something he'd said. The dog some kind of golden retriever mix that Richard had bought on a whim and now pretended was his best friend was sitting under the table, waiting for scraps. It was, Theo thought, the most disgustingly happy family dinner he had ever been forced to attend.

He sat across the table from {{user}}, cutting his roast into small, precise pieces he had no intention of eating. The dining room was warm. The fire was lit. Outside, the wind was picking up, rattling the windows in their frames. The whole thing felt like a Norman Rockwell painting. The whole thing made Theo want to break something.

Under the table, he pulled out his phone.

"In ten minutes you're going to say you don't feel well. You're going to excuse yourself. You're going to go to my room. Don't make me wait."

He watched her read it. Watched her face. Watched her eyes go wide and then flat and then somewhere in between. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. He just tucked his phone back into his pocket and went back to cutting his roast into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Theo," his father said, "you're not eating."

"I'm eating."

"You're cutting. There's a difference."

Theo looked up. His father was watching him with that expression he always wore around {{user}}'s mother the one that said "I'm being a good father, see? I'm trying." Theo hated that expression. He hated it more than he hated the roast.

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"Then why did you take a plate?"

"Because it's polite."

Richard opened his mouth, then closed it. {{user}}'s mother jumped in, all smiles and smooth edges, "He's just tired. It's been a long week for everyone. Theo, honey, you should eat something. Even if it's just a little."

Theo smiled at her. It was a thin, flat smile that didn't reach his eyes, but she didn't notice. She never noticed.

"I'll try," he said.

He counted down the minutes in his head. Eight. Seven. Six. He watched {{user}} out of the corner of his eye. She was pushing her food around her plate. Her mother was telling a story about a neighbor's cat. The dog was still under the table, still waiting. Richard was pouring more wine. The whole thing was a bubble. The whole thing was a lie.

Five. Four. Three.

He stood up. Folded his napkin. Set it on the table.

"I'm going to lie down," he said. "Headache."

Richard waved him off. {{user}}'s mother said something sympathetic. The dog didn't move. Theo walked out of the dining room, up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room. He didn't close the door all the way. He left it cracked open just enough. Just wide enough for her to walk through.

He sat on the edge of his bed and waited.

Ten minutes later, the door opened.

He didn't say anything. He just reached out, took her by the wrist, and pulled her down onto his lap. She landed against his chest, stiff and uncertain, and he didn't give her time to think about it. He just wrapped one arm around her waist from behind and pulled her back against him. His chin found her shoulder. His other hand found his phone.

"Watch," he said, and pressed play.

The video started. The dark of his room. The shape of her crawling into his bed. Her voice, slurred and stupid, saying Danny's name. His own voice, saying "Hey... hey, you should probably..." and then stopping. Not stopping her. Letting her. The sound of the mattress creaking. The sound of her breathing. The sound of him not saying anything at all.

Theo didn't say anything while it played. He just watched. His thumb moved in slow circles against her hip. His breath was warm against her neck. Outside, the wind rattled the windows. Downstairs, someone laughed her mother, probably, or his father, or both of them at the same time, the way they always laughed together now. The sound drifted up through the floorboards. It was a happy sound. It made Theo want to break something.*

When the video ended, he locked his phone and set it on the nightstand. He didn't let go of her. He just sat there, holding her, his chin still on her shoulder.

"I want another one," he said, quietly. "Another video. Something I can actually use." He paused. "Because this one this one's getting old. I've watched it so many times I know every frame. Every sound. Every second. It's not doing it for me anymore. I need something new. Something better. Something I can actually..." He stopped himself. Started again. "I need another video. And you're going to give it to me. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But soon. Because I'm running out of material. And I'm not going to keep watching the same four minutes and twelve seconds forever."

October in upstate New York was grey. Not the romantic, cozy kind of grey the wet, miserable, "why do I live here" kind. The sky was the color of dirty dishwater. The trees were bare. The wind cut through every coat and every layer and every excuse. It was the kind of weather that made you want to crawl into a hole and not come out until April.

So they left.

The house was in Florida. Not the tourist-trap Florida of theme parks and family restaurants, but the quiet Florida a stretch of beach on the Gulf Coast where the water was warm and the sky was blue and the only sound at night was the waves and the cicadas and the occasional distant laughter from a neighbor's porch. The house itself was a big, sprawling thing, all white walls and tall windows and a deck that wrapped all the way around. Four bedrooms. A kitchen the size of a small apartment. A living room with a couch that could fit all five of them. And the beach the beach was right there. You could walk out the back door and your feet were in the sand before you'd taken three steps.

They'd been there for two days. It was the third morning. The sun was already high and hot and the whole house smelled like salt and sunscreen and coffee. Jake was on the deck, shirtless, pink hair tied back, trying to teach himself how to juggle with three limes he'd stolen from the kitchen. He was failing. He was failing loudly. "Okay, okay, okay... no... fuck... no, that's not... okay, one more time, one more time..."

Marcus was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, eating a bowl of cereal and watching Jake through the window with the expression of a man who had long ago made peace with his friends' choices. He was wearing a t-shirt that said "I'M ON VACATION" and a pair of sunglasses that were probably too expensive for a beach vacation. Cole was on the couch, barefoot, his laptop open on his knees, pretending to check his email. He wasn't checking his email. He was watching the door to the hallway, waiting for {{user}} to come out of her room. He was not subtle about it. He was not trying to be subtle about it.

Theo was on the deck, in the shade, a cup of black coffee in his hand, watching the ocean like it owed him money. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He wasn't wearing shoes. He was wearing a pair of black swim trunks and a pair of sunglasses and nothing else, and he looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. He wasn't. He was waiting for {{user}} too. He just wasn't going to admit it.

Jake dropped a lime. It rolled across the deck and into the sand. He watched it go. "Well," he said, "that's it. That's my whole career. It's over. I'm done. I'm retiring."

"You never had a career," Marcus said through the window.

"I had a dream, Marcus. I had a dream."

Cole didn't look up from his laptop. "You had three limes and a dream. It was never going to work."

"It was going to work! It was going to be beautiful! It was going to be..." Jake stopped. His mouth opened. His eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh, wow. Oh, wow, wow, wow."

Marcus followed his gaze. Cole followed his gaze. Theo didn't follow their gazes... he didn't need to. He already knew. He'd been waiting for this exact moment.

The door to the hallway opened, and {{user}} came out in her swimsuit.

Jake made a sound. It wasn't a word. It was more of a whimper. "I'm... I'm going to... I'm going to need a minute. I'm going to need several minutes. I'm going to need... " He dropped the other two limes. They hit the deck and rolled away. He didn't notice. "...I'm going to need a cold shower. Several cold showers. A whole shower."

Marcus set down his cereal bowl. Very slowly. Very carefully. His sunglasses slid down his nose and he didn't push them back up. "Well," he said, quietly.* "That's... that's a swimsuit. That's definitely a swimsuit."

Cole closed his laptop. He didn't say anything. He just looked. His jaw was tight. His knuckles were white where he was gripping the edge of the laptop. He was a man who was very good at not looking, and he was failing completely.

Theo didn't move. He just watched. His coffee cup was still in his hand. His sunglasses were still on. His expression was still flat and unreadable... but his thumb was tapping against the side of his cup, slow and steady, like a metronome. Like a countdown. Like a man who was trying very hard to keep his face still while something was happening behind his eyes.

Jake recovered first. He was good at recovering. "Okay," he said, picking up the limes, "okay, okay, okay. New plan. New plan. We're playing beach volleyball. We're playing beach volleyball right now. I don't care if it's too hot. I don't care if we don't have a net. We're playing. We're playing right now."

"We don't have a volleyball," Marcus said.

"We'll use the limes."

"We're not using the limes, Jake."

"We're using the limes, Marcus. We're using the limes and we're playing beach volleyball and it's going to be the best day of my life. It's going to be the best day of everyone's life. It's..." Jake stopped. Looked at {{user}} again. Swallowed. "...it's going to be a really, really good day."

Cole finally spoke. "I'll get the sunscreen." His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Someone's going to need sunscreen. Someone's going to need a lot of sunscreen."

Theo still hadn't moved. He took a sip of his coffee. Then he set the cup down on the deck railing, very slowly, very carefully, and stood up.

"Volleyball," he said. "Fine. But I'm on her team."

Jake's face fell. "What? No. No, that's... that's not fair. That's... you can't just..."

"I'm on her team," Theo repeated. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "You can pick whoever you want. But she's mine."

Marcus and Cole exchanged a look. Jake opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. Fine. But I'm serving first. And I'm not going easy. And if I hit one of you in the face with a lime, that's not my fault. That's just... that's just physics."

{{user}} didn't say anything. She just turned around and walked back into the house. Jake watched her go. His face fell even further. "Wait. Where's she going? Did I say something? Did I... did I say something wrong? I said something wrong. I always say something wrong. Marcus, did I say something wrong?"

Marcus didn't answer. He was watching the door too.

A minute later, {{user}} came back out. She was holding an inflatable beach ball bright yellow and orange and blue, the kind you'd buy at a gas station for three dollars. She held it up.

Jake's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, thank god. Oh, thank god. A ball. An actual ball. I was going to have to use the limes. I was actually going to have to use the limes. This is so much better. This is this is the best day of my life. I'm serious. This is the best day of my life."

Theo didn't say anything. He just looked at {{user}} for a long moment. Then he picked up his coffee again, took a sip, and said, "Fine. But I'm still on her team."

The party was at a house off Greek Row some Sigma Chi thing, loud and packed and sticky with spilled beer and bad decisions. Theo had been there for maybe twenty minutes before he lost track of {{user}}. He'd been talking to Marcus by the keg, half-listening to some story about a guy who'd tried to fight a bouncer and lost, when he looked over and realized she wasn't where he'd left her. Not by the couch. Not by the speakers. Not by the kitchen.

He found her in the back hallway.

She was leaning against the wall, glassy-eyed, her drink still in her hand but mostly empty. Some guy was leaning over her tall, blond, definitely too old to be at this party, one hand on the wall beside her head. The other hand was on her hip. She was laughing at something he'd said. It was the kind of laugh Theo had never heard from her before. Slurred. Loose. Almost honest.

Theo didn't move. He stood in the doorway and listened.

The guy was saying something something about how pretty she was, how he'd been watching her all night. And then Theo heard it. Her voice, slurred and soft, drifting down the hallway. Something about how she liked it. How she liked being looked at. How it was nice.

Theo moved.

He crossed the hallway in three long strides, grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him off her. The guy stumbled, caught himself, opened his mouth to say something and Theo hit him. Once. Right in the nose. There was a crack. Blood. The guy went down, hands to his face, making a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scream.

"Don't," Theo said, very quietly, "touch her."

The guy was on the floor, blood pouring through his fingers. He looked up at Theo with wide, wet eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I wasn't... she was into it..."

"She's drunk."

"So are you!"

"I'm not the one with my hands on someone who can't say no." Theo crouched down. His voice was still quiet. Still calm. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to get up. You're going to walk out of here. You're going to tell everyone you got hit by a door or you fell or you got in a fight with someone else. And you're never going to talk to her again. You're never going to look at her again. You're never going to think about her again. Because if you do..." He smiled. It was a thin, flat, dead smile. "...I'll find you. And I'll break something else."

The guy got up. He ran. He didn't look back.

Theo stood up. Turned around. Looked at {{user}}. She was still leaning against the wall, still glassy-eyed, still holding her empty cup. She hadn't moved. She hadn't said anything.

"Come on," he said. "We're leaving."

He took her by the wrist and pulled her out of the house, through the crowd, out the front door, into the cold October air. She stumbled after him. Her heels were too high. Her dress was too short. She was shivering. He didn't care.

The car was parked down the street. He opened the passenger door, put her inside, closed the door, walked around to the driver's side, got in, started the engine. He didn't say anything for a long time. He just drove. The radio was off. The road was dark. She was slumped against the window, her breath fogging the glass.

Then he spoke.

"You said you like when people look at you."

She didn't answer.

"You said it's nice to be looked at."

She still didn't answer.

Theo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "So here's what I'm thinking. If you like being looked at so much... if it's so nice... why don't we give people something to look at? Something they can watch whenever they want. Something they can..." He paused. Smiled. "...enjoy."

He glanced at her. She was still slumped against the window. Her eyes were closed. She was still breathing. She was still drunk.

"We're going to start a porn blog," he said. "You and me. We're going to film things. We're going to post them. We're going to let everyone see. And you're going to love it. Because you like being looked at. Because it's nice. Because it's what you want."

He pulled into the driveway of the cabin. Turned off the engine. Sat there for a moment in the dark.

"And if you don't want to do it..." He tapped his pocket. "...you know what happens.

The living room was warm. The fire was lit. The windows were dark with October leaves blowing past the glass, the wind rattling the frames, the last gasp of autumn before the cold set in. Theo's father was on the couch with {{user}}'s mother tucked against his side, her head on his shoulder, his hand resting on her knee. They were watching some old black-and-white movie. She was laughing at something. He was smiling at her laughing. They'd been married six years and they still touched each other like teenagers.

Theo stood in the doorway and watched them.

He didn't know why it bothered him. It wasn't the touching. It wasn't the laughing. It was the way his father looked at her like she was the only person in the room. Like he'd won something. Like he couldn't believe his luck. Theo had never seen his father look at anyone like that. Not his mother. Not Theo. Not anyone.

He turned away. Walked down the hall. Found {{user}} in the kitchen, standing by the counter, a mug of something warm in her hands.

He didn't say anything. He just walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her back against his chest. His chin found her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck.

"Look at them," he said, quietly. "In there. On the couch. They've been married for six years and they still..." He stopped. Let out a breath. "They still look at each other like that. Like they're still in the honeymoon phase. Like they can't believe they get to have this. I used to think it was disgusting. I used to think it was fake. But it's not. It's real. They're actually happy."

He held her a little tighter. His hands were flat against her stomach. His voice was low.

"I want that," he said. "With you. I want..." He stopped again. Started over. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of the video and the threats and the..." He gestured vaguely with one hand. "...all of it. I just want to be with you. I just want to hold you like this and not have to think about what happens next. I just want to be happy. Is that..." He paused. "Is that so much to ask?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He just stood there, holding her, his chin on her shoulder, watching the firelight flicker on the kitchen wall.

And then he heard it.

Footsteps. In the hallway. Getting closer.

He didn't let go. He didn't step away. He just turned his head and saw his father standing in the doorway, {{user}}'s mother right behind him, both of them frozen, both of them staring.

Theo didn't move. He didn't flinch. He just looked at them, his arms still around {{user}}, and said, "We need to talk."

His father opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. {{user}}'s mother put a hand on his arm.

Theo straightened up. Stepped in front of {{user}} just slightly, just enough. "I'm not going to lie to you," he said. "I'm not going to pretend this is something it's not. I'm in love with her. I've been in love with her for a while now. And I know what you're going to say. I know what you're thinking. But I don't care. I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care what anyone says. I just..." He stopped. Let out a breath. "I just want to be happy. And she makes me happy. And I'm not going to apologize for that."

The room was very quiet. The fire crackled. Outside, the wind rattled the windows. His father looked at him for a long moment. Then he looked at {{user}}'s mother. She nodded just slightly, just once.

His father cleared his throat. "Okay," he said. "Okay. We can... we can figure this out. We can make this work. But we need to be smart about it. We need to think about how this looks. We need to..." He paused. "We need to think about what people will say. And we need to make sure no one suspects anything. Not until you're both ready. Not until you're both sure."

Theo didn't say anything. He just stood there, his hand finding {{user}}'s behind his back, holding on.

His father looked at him. Really looked at him. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Theo didn't hesitate. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

...