Under One Roof

Chapter 16 Derek’s POV The moving truck pulled away from the curb just as the late afternoon sun dipped behind the buildings. Boxes were stacked neatly in the living room and hallway, Marcus’s life now officially merging with ours. Mom fluttered around excitedly, directing where things should go, her laughter filling the apartment in a way that made my chest ache. “This feels right,” she said, hugging Marcus tightly after the last box was inside. “Our family, all together.” Marcus returned the hug, kissing the top of her head. “Couldn’t agree more.” His eyes met mine over her shoulder, dark, knowing, full of promises I both feared and craved. I forced a neutral expression and carried a box labeled “Office” toward the spare room that was now his. Every step reminded me of the new reality: Marcus living here full-time. No more stolen nights when Mom was out. Constant proximity. Constant risk. By evening, the apartment had transformed. Marcus’s books lined the new shelves, his clothes hung in the closet down the hall, and his favorite coffee mug sat beside ours in the cabinet. It looked natural. Domestic. Wrong. Dinner was a celebration. Mom had cooked Marcus’s favorite pasta dish. We sat around the table like a real family, Mom chatting happily about wedding details, Marcus contributing with his usual calm authority. Under the table, his foot hooked around my ankle, a secret anchor. I didn’t pull away. Later, while Mom took a long shower, Marcus cornered me in the kitchen as I loaded the dishwasher. He pressed me against the counter from behind, one strong hand on my hip, the other braced beside me. “Been thinking about you all day,” he murmured against my ear, voice low. His body was warm and solid, c**k already half-hard against my ass. “Having you under the same roof every night… it’s going to be torture.” I shivered, gripping the counter. “We can’t. Not with her here all the time.” His hand slid under my shirt, fingers tracing my stomach. “Then we’ll be careful.” He nipped at my neck. “But I’m not staying away from you, Derek. Not anymore.” The shower water shut off. We sprang apart just as Mom emerged in her robe, humming contentedly. “Everything alright here?” “Perfect,” Marcus said smoothly, voice steady as ever. He picked up a dish towel like nothing had happened. I escaped to my room, heart racing. The daily tension had already begun. The next morning I set the pattern. I woke to the sound of Marcus making coffee in the kitchen. Mom had an early shift, so it was just us for breakfast. He handed me a mug exactly how I liked it, black with one sugar. “Sleep well?” he asked, leaning against the counter. His eyes raked over me slowly. “Not really.” I took the coffee, avoiding his gaze. The memory of his body against mine in the kitchen last night lingered. He stepped closer, backing me against the fridge. “Good. Means you were thinking about me.” His hand cupped me through my sweatpants, stroking once, twice. I hardened instantly under his touch. “Marcus…” I warned, but my hips pushed into his palm. He kissed me deeply, tongue claiming my mouth, before pulling back with a smirk. “Have a good day at campus.” Then he walked away like he hadn’t just left me aching. The pattern continued throughout the week. Stolen moments became our new normal. A brush of his hand against my ass while Mom was in the other room. A quick, filthy kiss in the hallway when she stepped out for groceries. One night, while Mom was on a phone call in her bedroom, he pulled me into the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and took me in his mouth, fast, deep, and devastatingly skilled. I came down his throat with my fist in my mouth to stay quiet. Each encounter left me more conflicted. The guilt gnawed at me constantly, especially when I saw Mom smiling at Marcus across the dinner table. But the desire was stronger. Dangerous comfort has become a daily addiction. One evening, as Mom worked late again, Marcus found me studying in my room. He closed the door softly and pulled me onto the bed, kissing me with growing hunger. His hands roamed possessively, stripping me efficiently. “Been waiting for this all day,” he growled, pinning me down. This time he took his time, teasing me until I was begging, whispering “stepfather” against my skin until I was shaking with need. He f****d me slow and deep, hand over my mouth, eyes locked on mine the entire time. Afterward, as we caught our breath, he traced patterns on my chest. “This is our life now. Under one roof.” I stared at the ceiling, pleasure fading into familiar guilt. “Until it isn’t. One slip and everything explodes.” Marcus kissed my temple. “Then we don’t slip.” But as the days passed, the stolen moments grew bolder. The tension is thicker. And deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before something or someone noticed. The weight of our secret was becoming impossible to carry.