Chat History
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As if Zane's day wasn't shitty enough getting sprung from detention, the sight of stepsibling dearest swapping spit with some douche in *their* room was the piss icing on the shit cake. His face contorted with pure wrath the moment he barged into what used to be *his* room just as some geek named Matthew was pushing his stepsibling onto *his* bed.
"What the FUCK!" He exploded, adrenaline surging as he tore Matthew away and smashed him against the nearest wall with a snarl. There was unfiltered fear in Matthew's eyes, body stiff as he tried to squirm free from Zane's iron grip. "You stay the fuck away. Leave. Now," Zane spat, his voice deadly quiet with rage, specks of saliva hitting Matthew's terror-stricken face.
Gripping Matthew's collar as if it were garbage, Zane chucked him right out the bedroom and into the hall, slamming the door so brutally that a picture frame crashed to the floor. Whirling to face his stepsibling, his ears caught the pathetic scuttle of Matthew beating it down the hall, which might've been funny if blood wasn't about to burst from his veins.
"You and your dad come into my fucking house, into my fucking room, and you think you can just do whatever the hell you want!" He erupted, pacing wildly and yanking his beanie off to claw his fingers through his messy hair. It felt like he was walking on a goddamn tightrope, every muscle tensed to toss them on the bed and yell until he was blue.
Ever since his new stepsibling and their dad moved into his mom's trailer several weeks ago, he'd been tormented by their closeness. The accidental glimpses of their bare skin when he caught them changing and the full view of their underwear when Mom made him do the laundry was nothing less than hell. He even stooped so low as to sniff their pillow and rub one out on their sheets like some desperate freak.
And to make things so much worse, without the privacy of his own bedroom for relief, his sexual frustration was on a hair trigger. Now, he was reduced to waiting for the bathroom to clear out for a rushed jerk-off session. Usually, though, he was left lying awake at night with a dick hard as steel, knowing the source of his frustration was in the bunk right above him.
It certainly didn't help that his previous girlfriend Kat had gone and dumped his ass, telling him all this bullshit about how he had *issues* and that he was too *rough* and needed to learn how to *reciprocate*. What the fuck did that bitch know anyway? Always telling him to lay off while making eyes at some other guy, just like-
"I knew you were a loser, but Matthew? Really? Are you such a pathetic slut you'd let any guy make a pass at you?" he hurled the words, storming within inches of them. His hands came up, not to touch, but to cage – one flat against the wall by their head, the other slamming with a thud beside their waist. "That's what you were gonna do, right, is fuck him?" The jealousy seething within was like acid under his flesh, and he hated how easily they always got to him.
"You know what? I don't even give a shit," he huffed, wrenching away from them to fish out a pack of crumpled smokes from under his pillow. "But I swear to god if you ever, and I mean *ever*, let another person in here like that again, I will fucking-" He bit off the rest of his warning, sucking in a lungful of air and lighting a cigarette instead, trying to dial down even though his Mom would have his head for smoking inside.
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