Touch Me Softly, Call it Sin
When Phuwin's mother ran off with another man, she left him behind like an unwanted piece of baggage.
The only person willing to pick up the pieces was Pond's father-a kind man who opened his doors and took a abandoned five-year-old in, raising him side-by-side with his own son.
Growing up under the same roof, sharing the same space, and eating at the same table, Pond and Phuwin were supposed to be brothers in every way that mattered.
Until puberty hit.
Driven by raw curiosity and the claustrophobia of late-night boredom, an innocent curiosity twisted into dark, clumsy experimentation behind locked doors.
What started as whispered secrets and clumsy, stolen kisses in the pitch-black of their shared bedroom rapidly spiraled into something suffocating, filthy, and entirely unholy.
Now, every quiet touch burns like a bruise, and every breathless gasp feels like a confession.
They know it's wrong.
They know it's a betrayal of the man who gave them a home.
But when the light goes out and the bedroom door clicks shut, the guilt only makes the temptation sweeter.
They aren't brothers.
They never were.
And in a house built on generosity, they're about to burn it all down for a taste of what's forbidden.
"Kiss me like you didn't grow up calling me family. Kiss me like it's going to ruin us."