Claim Me, Alpha StepBrothers

The Hallway Incident

~Olive~

“What are you two doing?”

Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. The entire universe just slammed on the brakes and I am screaming inside my own head while the rest of me freezes like a deer caught in the filthiest headlights ever.

Crew’s thick fingers are still buried deep in my p***y, knuckle-deep, curling in that perfect way that was making my brain melt two seconds ago, and his forehead is pressed to mine like we’re sharing the same chaotic heartbeat. My hand is fisted so tight in his t-shirt I’m probably stretching it out forever.

Richard.

Richard is standing right there at the end of the hallway in his charcoal sweater, holding that tiny espresso cup like he’s about to ask about the weather instead of watching his son finger-f**k his new stepdaughter against the wall. Calm. Way too calm.

Twenty-four hours after the wedding and this is my life now. My butter-yellow sundress is bunched up around my hips, panties shoved aside, my wetness all over Crew’s hand, and I can’t even breathe.

I make this pathetic little sound not a word, just a horrified “Uhhhhhh” that squeaks out of me like a dying balloon. Kill me. Kill me right now.

Crew snaps into action like some kind of trained chaos ninja. His fingers slide out of me (god, I feel so empty and wet and mortified) and he steps back smooth as anything, smoothing down his shirt, grabbing his coffee like he’s the poster boy for innocence. The filthy hallway Crew? Vanished. Poof. Now he’s all cool and controlled, every inch the perfect son.

“Dad. Morning,” he says, like nothing just happened. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

“Mm. Clearly.”

“Olive.”

“…Yes.” My voice comes out tiny and squeaky and I hate it.

“Are you alright.”

I am so extremely not alright. I am wrecked. Ruined. Thoroughly fingered and now thoroughly traumatized. My brain is a mess of panic and leftover heat and the string in my chest is yanking so hard I might pass out.

“I’m alright.”

“Good.” Richard takes this slow, deliberate sip of his espresso, eyes moving between us like he’s filing away every detail for later torture. “Crew. A word, please. In the study.”

“Sure.”

“Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Richard looks back at me one last time. Those eyes are calm, almost soft, almost fatherly, and he gives this tiny nod. “Get dressed for breakfast, Olive. I’d like to talk to you after.”

Then they’re gone. The study door clicking shut like a trap snapping closed.

Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

I slide down the wall like my legs just gave up on life, butt hitting the runner with a pathetic thump, knees pulled tight to my chest.

My butter-yellow sundress is still all bunched up, panties crooked and soaked, my p***y still throbbing and clenching around the ghost of Crew’s thick fingers like it’s personally offended they left. I smash the heels of my palms into my eyes until I see stars exploding.

My heart is going boom-boom-boom so loud I’m scared the whole house can hear it. The string in my chest is yanking and twisting and singing this chaotic mess of panic and leftover heat and pure rage.

What the actual f**k just happened? Richard saw. He saw. His hand was literally inside me and now my stepdad knows and Crew didn’t even look at me and I’m going to die. I am actually going to combust right here on this fancy runner.

I scramble up so fast I almost trip over my own feet, yanking my dress down like that’ll erase the last ten minutes from existence. The NEW PLAN is still poking out of my pocket like a smug little traitor waving hello. I snatch it, shove it deeper, and bolt back to my room like the hallway is on fire behind me.

The door slams shut and I lean against it, breathing hard, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor with my back to the wood. My thighs are sticky. My c**t is still pulsing. Every time I shift I feel it — that empty ache where Crew’s fingers were curling so perfect.

“Oh my god, Olive, you absolute disaster,” I whisper to myself, voice all shaky and frantic. “What is wrong with you? Moaning his name in your sleep, letting him corner you in the hallway, spreading your legs like a needy little slut while your dad is right downstairs? And now Richard wants to talk? At breakfast? I’m going to throw up. Or c*m. Or both. Probably both.”

I press my forehead to my knees, rocking a little because my body is still buzzing. “Crew Hayes, I hate you. I hate your stupid smirk and your stupid fingers and the way you called me kitten like you own me. I hate how wet I got the second you touched me. I hate that I didn’t tell you to stop. I hate that I wanted more. God, I’m so screwed. The NEW PLAN is in shambles. Step one: act normal? Step two: don’t look at Crew? Yeah, right. I let him finger me against the wall instead. Brilliant. Ten out of ten.”

My phone is somewhere on the desk but I don’t even reach for it. I just sit there muttering like a crazy person. “Get dressed for breakfast,Olive. Like he didn’t just see his son knuckle-deep in me. What is he going to say? What am I going to say? ‘Sorry I was riding your son’s hand like a desperate omega in heat’? No. No no no. I need a new plan. A better plan. A plan that involves moving to Antarctica and never speaking to any Hayes men again.”

My phone buzzes on the desk across the room and I nearly jump out of my skin. I crawl over on all fours like a gremlin because standing feels impossible right now, grab it, and see my best friend’s name lighting up the screen. Thank god. I answer so fast I almost drop the phone on my face.

“Baby!” she squeals the second I pick up. “How have you been? It’s been a while. I spoke to you..”

“b***h,” I blurt, cutting her off, voice cracking like a total mess. “I let my stepbrother finger me.”

“Wait… what?” She sounds like she’s choking on her drink. “Your stepbrother?”

“Yeah.” I flop backward onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning so hot I might actually combust. “Crew Hayes.

“You remember sophomore year? The asshole who stole my notes and tripped me in the hallway every chance he got? That Crew.”

Baby!” she squeals again, but then her voice shifts. “Wait— Crew Hayes is your stepbrother?! b***h, you didn’t tell me this. Crew Hayes!!!!!!! You mean Crew? The twin that bullied you? Tf. Tf. Have you forgotten so fast?”

I groan so loud it echoes off the walls, pressing the phone tighter to my ear while I roll over and shove my face into the pillow. “I know, I know, okay?! It’s insane! I didn’t forget! How could I forget?. And now he’s my stepbrother and he just had his fingers buried in my p***y in the hallway and I liked it. God, I’m the worst.”

My bestie is full-on losing it on the other end. “Olive. Babe. The same Crew who made you cry in tenth grade? The chaos twin who used to smirk at you like you were his favorite toy to mess with? And now you’re letting him finger-f**k you while your new stepdad watches? What the actual f**k is your life right now?!”

“I don’t know!” I whine, kicking my legs like a toddler

His thick fingers stretching me, rubbing my c**t, that low growl in my ear about how wet I was. My p***y clenches again just thinking about it and I hate myself. “It happened so fast. One second I’m trying to get a stupid pen for my NEW PLAN, next second he’s got me pinned, talking all filthy, calling me kitten and sweetheart, and I just… melted. I was dripping down his hand, rocking against him like a desperate little slut. And Richard walked in right when it was getting really good. I wanted to die. I still want to die.”

She’s half-laughing, half-scolding. “Girl. This is next-level messy. You better be careful. That twin has always had it out for you and now he lives in your house? With access to your room? Your panties? Your everything?”

“And Cas too looks like he wants to f**k me”

Girl… this is next-level messy. The twins who bullied you are now your stepbrothers? Living in the same house? With full access to you? You better watch your back. Or your panties. Or both.”

My phone buzzes with a low battery warning but I ignore it. “I know, okay? I’m trying not to think about how insane it is but my brain won’t shut up and my body is even worse..”

She cuts me off, shifting tones like she’s suddenly remembering the rest of my life. “Wait, hold up when are you resuming junior year anyway? You can’t hide in that fancy new house forever spilling tea about your stepbrothers fingering you.”

“Soon, b***h,” I groan, flopping back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling like it owes me answers. “Like, really soon. I’ve been putting it off with all the wedding chaos and moving and… everything. But I have to go back. I can’t avoid it forever.”

“You better,” she says, all serious but with that excited edge that means she’s already planning our gossip sessions. “You have so much to tell me. So much tea to spill. I need every single detail”

I laugh despite everything, this shaky, mortified little sound because saying it all out loud makes it feel even more real and filthy and terrifying. “I won’t hold back. Promise. But right now I have to survive breakfast with Richard who literally saw Crew’s hand up my dress and Crew who’s probably downstairs smirking like he won the lottery. Wish me luck before I go down there and die.”

“Good luck, b***h. You deserve one,” she says, half-laughing, half-serious like she knows exactly how screwed I am. “Don’t let those Hayes twins ruin you any more than they already have. Text me after. I need the full breakdown!”