Fifteen: Wanting
Authors Note: I've finally got another one for you guys! It's not the one I thought I'd be writing, but I think it turned out okay. Let me know what you think!
Sometimes I think the worst part of being fifteen is my inability to control my thoughts.
Back when I was younger and I started to have sexual thoughts I was able to stop them. I could think of something else, or just push them away and I'd be fine.
Of course that's not how my thoughts work at fifteen.
At the moment I'm sitting on my bed Indian style trying to concentrate on my math homework, something that I usually find simple, but I find myself unable to do so.
And why is that? Well of course my seventeen year old step-brother, Ferb Fletcher.
Ferb is lying down on his bed reading a book, stretched out like an Adonis, his shirtless chest on full display because for some reason Ferb has decided that shirts are useless pieces of clothing. Seriously, it's not even hot in our room, like, at all.
I should be doing my math homework, but instead I keep sneaking looks at him, trying to ignore the feelings that I get when I do so.
He really is gorgeous. His green eyes are scanning across the page in his book, his face looking placid as he flips to the next page. His hair is hanging just above his brow, looking slightly messy in an attractive way that Ferb always achieves without putting in any effort.
His nose is hooked in a way that makes it almost look like it's been broken a few times in the past, although I know that it never has been. It fits well on long face and makes him look tough.
I sneak another glance over at him and see his tongue dart out to lick his lips. I almost groan as I look down at my math book.
Ferb's lips are slightly thin, but plenty full. His tongue is long, able to touch his nose, and I have an intense desire to rub my tongue against his.
I pull my eyes away from him, knowing that if I don't I'm going to have a bigger problem than unfinished math. And that problem would be in my pants, if you know what I mean.
I look down at my math homework. I'm on problem four of twenty. I've been doing this for almost twenty minutes. I should have been down at least ten minutes ago.
I get half way through problem four before I hear Ferb shift and have to look over at him.
His chest is perfect. He could model if he wanted to. He could model for Hollister no problem. He'd never put on the clothes due to his personal opinion that anyone who pays thirty-five dollars for a T-shirt is mentally retarded, but since their models never wear clothes in their adds anyway, it'd be perfect.
His chest has a perfect set of 6-pack abs that makes me want to do inappropriate things. Actually his chest has caused me to do inappropriate things, but what I do in the shower is really no one's business but my own.
He is just so perfectly muscled. He's strong, but he doesn't look like he's on steroids. If I could just let my hands slide over-
No!
Math homework! I am doing math homework! I am not having sexual thoughts about my step-brother. I am not imagining running my hands over my gorgeous step-brothers abs, and then running my tongue down the crevices in hopes of hearing my name come out of his mouth, breathily and husky.
Nope, because I'm doing math.
I'm about to actually work on my math when he shifts again and his pants drop a little lower on his hips. The band of his boxers is on display, along with the faint line of hair that runs down toward his groin. The sight makes me twitch.
His slight 'V' shape is clearly visible, and all I can think is that I wish his boxers would fall down with his jeans.
I want to touch him. I want to beg him to let me touch him. I want to run my hands all over his body and press my body against his, and do anything to get closer to him.
I just want him so bad.
I want him in everything that he is and everything that he ever will be.
And I want to have crazy animalist sex that-
"Are you having trouble?" Ferb asks before I can finish my thought.
"Uh-" I struggle to form an answer as I pull my eyes away from his boxers and toward his face.
Ferb doesn't wait for my answer. He stands up, closing his book and laying it on his bed, before he walks over to my bed and sits down behind me.
His naked chest is lightly touching my shoulder as he looks down over my math.
"You're having trouble with this?" He asks with a low voice, followed by a chuckle. The hot air sweeps across my ear and I have to exercise all of my self control to not turn around and throw myself at him.
"No- I just…" I don't have to form an excuse because Ferb's hand is grabbing the pencil out of my left hand with his right. When his hand touches mine I feel a spark throughout my whole body.
His arm is wrapped around me and he moves closer as he begins to write equations on my paper. His chest is pressed into my shoulder with his face just above my ear. He is sitting with his left leg stretched out beside me, while his right leg is folded up and pressed flush against my back.
As he writes, he mumbles the equations out loud, letting more of his breath ghost over my ear.
"Do you have anything you want me to do?" I ask, trying to distract myself so that I don't lean into him.
"No," he says simply as he continues to write.
It's not unusual for us to do one another's homework. We've both been defying physics since grade school, so high school homework is a breeze. We occasionally trade homework if we'd rather do a different subject, and sometimes we take turns doing homework each week. Either way, him doing my work is nothing new.
"Why couldn't you concentrate?" Ferb asks as he begins the last problem, seeming to move closer to me as he does so.
"I don't know, just one of those days I guess." I say, straining to not let my voice crack as it has a tendency to do now that I'm fifteen.
Ferb nods before he sets to pencil down and begins smearing the pencil marks a little to the right to mimic my left handed writing. Ferb is a master at my hand writing.
I bet he'd be a master at a bunch of other things involving me.
"Want to watch a movie?" He asks.
"Sure." I say, eager to do whatever he wants me to.
He stands up and stretches before pointing out of the room, telling me that he's going to go get popcorn and probably sodas.
I nod before standing up and going to pick a movie from our stack.
I try to ignore all of the thoughts running through my head. He was so close to me and to say I've been fighting my body about it would be an understatement.
I pull Space Adventure out of the stack and put it in out DVD player before I got to sit back down on my bed.
I try to calm myself down while I wait for Ferb, but thoughts of him keep popping into my head.
When he walks in the door he's carrying two cans of Coke and a bowl of popcorn. He sits down beside me, our shoulders bumping as he sets the popcorn down on my lap before offering me a Coke.
I take it, our hands brushing for the second time today, and again I feel a spark shoot through my body.
Ferb grabs the remote off of the side table and starts the movie. I try to watch it, but again I turn to Ferb. He's drinking his Coke and his Adam's apple is bobbing up and down at each drink. Every move he makes is driving me crazy
He reaches his hand deep into the bowl and takes a handful before shoving it in his mouth in a way that only Ferb could do attractively.
Once the popcorn is out of his hand he begins to lick the butter slowly off of his hand, finger my finger.
"You can never have too much butter," he says giving me a sexy grin.
It's that moment that seals my fate of having to use the popcorn bowl to hide the problem in my pants for the rest of the movie. Because honestly, I couldn't look away even if I wanted to, and even if I could, there's no way the thoughts I'm having would get any cleaner.
No, I definitely lost control of my brain when I turned fifteen.