All characters in the story are 18+ if you don't like incest stories then this fictional story is not for you. Enjoy <3 from me Lily.
The neon sign outside the bar buzzed faintly, casting the slick pavement in a watery glow of pink and green. The rain had started as a drizzle, but now it felt like the sky was unravelling. I leaned against the brick wall, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. Not that my top was doing much for warmth--thin black satin with a neckline that dipped low enough to make Bryan seethe. That thought alone made me feel colder. My phone vibrated in my hand, and Mike's name lit up the screen.
"Five minutes. Stay put."
I stared at the message, biting my lip. Calling him had been a last resort, and I hated it. Mike and I didn't exactly get along. He was my older brother by ten years and had a way of making me feel like I was still some bratty kid who couldn't get her life together. But after tonight, I didn't have much of a choice. Bryan's shouting, the way his face twisted when I told him I wasn't coming back inside--my stomach twisted just thinking about it.
"You love the attention, don't you? Dressed like that, showing everything off," he'd hissed, his voice venomous. "You can't just be normal. You got to always show off your tits."
Normal. I hated that word. I crossed my arms tighter around myself, feeling the fabric of my top cling to my skin, and let the tears that had been building finally spill.
Mike's truck pulled up, headlights cutting through the rain. The old engine sputtered as he parked at the curb. He rolled the window down, leaning over to squint at me.
"What the hell, Lily? You look like a drowned cat," he said, his voice sharp but not unkind.
"Good to see you too, Mike," I shot back, brushing my damp hair out of my face. I slid into the passenger seat, shivering as I closed the door behind me. His truck smelled like leather and the faint remnants of whatever fast food he'd inhaled earlier. The heater groaned to life, blowing out lukewarm air.
Mike glanced at me, his eyes flicking downward for half a second. I knew what he was seeing--the way the rain had plastered the satin against me, how the neckline barely clung to modesty. His brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything. Thank God.
"Seatbelt," he said gruffly, pulling the truck back onto the road.
I buckled in, staring straight ahead, my fingers clenched into my lap. Neither of us spoke for a while, the only sound the steady slap of the windshield wipers. Outside, the rain came down harder, blurring the world into streaks of grey.
Finally, Mike broke the silence. "Was it him?"
I swallowed, my throat tight. "Yeah."
"What happened?"
I hesitated. My eyes darted to his hands on the wheel, his knuckles pale from gripping it so tightly. "He just... He gets mad when I wear stuff like this," I admitted, my voice trembling. "Says it makes me look cheap."
Mike's jaw twitched. "What an asshole."
A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Right? I mean, it's just a top. It's not like I'm walking around naked. I don't understand why it's such a big deal."
Mike's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me like he was trying to piece me together. I tugged the neckline of my top higher out of reflex, though it didn't do much. The fabric was already damp, clinging to the curves of my chest, my shoulders bare except for the delicate straps.
"He's insecure," Mike said finally. His voice was low, almost thoughtful. "Doesn't mean he gets to take it out on you."
I blinked at him, caught off guard. That was... almost nice. I didn't reply, but a warmth spread in my chest, even if my arms were still wrapped tightly around me.
The rain turned into a full-blown storm as we left the city lights behind. The road was darker here, winding through stretches of dense trees that swayed violently in the wind. The truck rocked slightly with every gust, and the wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour.
"This is getting bad," I said softly, gripping the door handle as the truck skidded slightly on a curve.
"No shit," Mike muttered. He leaned forward, squinting through the rain. "We're not gonna make it home."
"What?" I turned to him, panic lacing my voice.
"There's a motel up ahead," he said, his tone clipped. "We'll wait it out."
A crooked sign for a roadside motel came into view, its vacancy light barely visible through the sheets of rain. Mike pulled into the lot and parked under the overhang by the office. The storm howled around us, rattling the truck. Neither of us moved right away.
"You coming in, or are you sleeping out here?" Mike asked, glancing at me.
I rolled my eyes but followed him out into the rain. By the time we reached the motel door, we were soaked all over again. The motel smelled like old carpet and mildew, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Mike slapped some money on the counter, and the guy behind the desk handed him a key without so much as looking up.
The room was small, with a single bed and a chair that looked like it hadn't been comfortable since the '90s. The heater groaned as Mike cranked it on, filling the room with lukewarm air. He tossed his keys on the nightstand.
"We can't sleep in these clothes we are soaking to the bone," I said looking like a drownded rat.
"Yeah well, we didn't really plan to be here did we," he shot back, smirking as he leaned further into the chair. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked over me again, lingering for half a second before he looked away. I felt my cheeks heat, whether from the observation or the fact that he wasn't wrong--I really did look like a drowned rat. The black satin of my top clung to me, showing every curve and dip, while my jeans had turned into a second, miserably cold skin.
"Seriously, though," I said, tugging at the hem of my top and frowning at how useless it was. "What are we supposed to do? I'm not sleeping in this. What do I have to sleep in my bloody birthday suit do I?"
"It isn't that bad Lily," Mike leaned back in the chair, his arms draped lazily over the armrests, that trademark smirk of his etched firmly across his face. "It's just water. You'll survive."
I rolled my eyes so hard I half-expected them to get stuck. "Just water? My jeans feel like they're glued to my legs, and this top--" I tugged at the clinging fabric, which refused to budge "--might as well be painted on. You want me to just curl up like this and call it a night?"
His smirk widened, and he crossed one leg over the other staring at my neckline. "Could be worse. At least you're wearing something." He shot me a cheeky glance, raising an eyebrow.
"What you looking at," I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him.
Mike raised both hands in mock surrender, though the smirk on his face didn't budge an inch. "Relax, Lil. Just making sure you're still alive under all that wet fabric. You look like you might dissolve at any second."
I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. "Real funny. How about you try being soaked to the bone and see how cheerful you feel?"
