Author's Note: I was listening to "Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way" by The Calling when this story just popped into my mind and begged to be written down. So here it is, just a oneshot on Derek and a bit of an obsession he's beginning to have... Feedback would be appreciated, I hope you all enjoy. And happy new year!
She never shuts her bedroom door all the way.
He often wonders if it's an invitation meant only for him. He doesn't know, but takes the opportunity to watch her anyway. Mainly at night, when the rest of the house sleeps.
She is a night owl. He had never known that she stayed up so late.
Sometimes he would watch her read some classic book, a soft smile touching her lips as she mouths the words to herself. Sometimes he would watch her undress and critique herself in the mirror, her nose wrinkling slightly when she found any "imperfections." And sometimes he would watch her clutch her pillow to her chest and cry, silent tears streaming down her pink cheeks.
He had to stop himself from coming into the room and taking her into his arms during those times.
He always resisted, making himself merely an observer. Every night he would try to stop himself from going to watch her through that thin crack of open door. But he couldn't sleep unless he took a look.
It was hard for a guy like Derek to admit that he was obsessed with her. But deep in the back of his mind, he realized that he was. He got mad whenever he accused himself of this, and tried to make excuses for why he had to peep in on his stepsister every night.
The problem was that there weren't any valid excuses for why he did it.
He often wondered if she knew. If she felt his eyes on her every night. Maybe she didn't mind it. Maybe she liked it.
Derek took pleasure in that notion. That she wanted him to watch her. That she wanted him.
He wanted her. He realized that the first time they had a fight. The fiery and passion in her dark blue eyes aroused him just as much as any Playboy magazine could. It confused him that she could do that to him. It confused him but it also intrigued him.
He had dated less and less since she and her family moved in with him and his own father, brother, and sister. He used to have a date every night. It went from that to a few times a week, to once a week, to barely ever. Other girls bored him.
Other girls weren't her.
All of his dreams began featuring her. None of them had less than an R-rating, either. Usually they were pretty XXX.
His thoughts always drifted back to her.
He would be thinking about something as simple as what he was going to eat for breakfast or what movie he should watch, and the thought would always somehow lead to her.
He stopped hanging around with Sam, too. He couldn't stand when he started talking about her, his girlfriend.
He didn't deserve her. He didn't want her as much as he did.
He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from lashing out at his best-friend whenever he even mentioned her name.
Obsession.
He wanted to kiss those full lips of hers, wondering what she tasted like.
Raspberries, he would imagine, as it was all he could taste when he kissed her in his dreams. He would stare at those pink lips across the table during dinner. He felt somewhat guilty when dirty, impure thoughts of those lips kissing him all over came to him at the dinner table.
He brushed up against her and touched her skin whenever he had the opportunity.
It was always just a fleeting touch, an accidental stroke. Her slightly tanned skin was so silky that he could only handle just a second of contact at a time. He was afraid if it was any longer than a mere second that he would not be able to control himself from doing more.
He wondered what she would do if he did let his hand linger.
If he did try something more. Would she push him away? Or would she let him touch her? He liked to imagine the latter. He liked to picture her touching him back, stroking him, wanting him.
He wondered what she would be like in bed.
With the passion and fiery look in those eyes of hers, he figured she would be wild. He imagined the feel of her naked body pressed up against his, the sound of her moaning in his ear. Her nails digging into the bare skin of his back as she clawed at him, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer to her. What it would feel like to be inside of her. His beautiful temptress.
But for now, he keeps his yearning bottled up inside, safe within his own mind. And he watches her, every night. Casey, his stepsister.
The object of his obsession.