Just one more look. I'd glance at him and then get on with my homework. Nervously, I allowed my eyes to wander upwards, across the room to where he was sitting, knowing I had made another stupid decision. It was always a hard task dragging my eyes away from the grandeur that was Simon. He didn't even know. He didn't know what he did to me when he flicked his jagged brown hair out of his amazing eyes, a sea of blue and green. Each glance he shot my way made my heart beat like I'd just ran a mile, I answered each direct question he asked me in an embarrassingly shaky voice.
  If he ever touched me, deliberately or accidentally, a wave of crimson blush spread across my usually pale face. He didn't know about the dreams I had, how much they disturbed me, how much I enjoyed them. Or how sickened they made me feel. This was surely incest. Okay, not... serious incest - he was my uncle - but it was still incest.
  Maybe you're wondering why I'm living with my uncle. I've been living with him for about two months, ever since my parents died. As clichéd as I know it sounds, they died in a car crash. Well, some idiot crashed into them: a drunken chav. I make it sound like I wasn't in the car, but I was. And I remember it all so clearly. I remember Dad slamming down on the brakes, trying to get out of the way of the other car. I remember my mother's final scream as her head slammed into the windscreen, shattered glass fragments flying through the air like snowflakes. I remember the journey in the ambulance, the struggle as the paramedics tried desperately to revive my parents.
  And then, when I arrived at the hospital, Simon came. I was feeling alone, pointless, knowing that my parents were dead. And then I saw him rushing towards me. He swept me into his arms in a warm embrace, and I clung to him shamelessly, because he was the only person I had left. Choking sobs forced their way out of my throat, sobs of sorrow and gratitude as he whispered in my ear:
  "I'll take you home with me. You'll always have someone."
  But recently, I thought he had been becoming more distant. He didn't talk to me as often, and when he did his sentences were short and to the point. Although he didn't know it, it was tearing me apart. He didn't know how I felt. Hell, even I didn't know how I felt. I couldn't decide whether it was lust or love, maybe both. But sometimes, I just wanted him to rape me. I wanted to feel him inside me, I wanted to give him pleasure. There were things that I wanted him to do to me that I daren't think about.
  "Tim.”
  I was woken from my trance by the stern sounding voice of Simon, the one who I craved so much. His face bore an expression of mild concern and amusement. I shook myself mentally and returned to my work, not that I could concentrate any more.
  "Tim."
  Hesitantly, I let my gaze meet his. He was looking at me contentedly, with an inquisitive expression in his eyes. He squinted at me slightly.
  "Why do you always look at me like that?" he asked.
  "Like what?" I mumbled.
  "Like there's something you're ashamed of. Like there's something you really want."
  "I'm not ashamed of anything!" I said indignantly, a blush rising in my cheeks.
  For how long was I supposed to put up with this? Me and Simon couldn't talk properly any more, I couldn't talk to him without making a complete fool out of myself. I couldn't take this any more. This wasn't what I wanted. I moved my homework onto the table beside me, knowing that I would be unable to complete it tonight. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I was about to do.
  "Fuck me," I said, obtaining and maintaining eye contact with him. He had shaken in surprise, and was now staring at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Fuck me. Please." I stood up. "I've been trying to fight this for so long, and I just can't any more."
  Walking towards him, he still didn't speak, as if he was trying to convince himself this wasn't happening. Reaching him on the sofa, I straddled his legs and pushed myself against him. Gingerly, I took one of his hands and brought it to my crotch, hearing his gasp.
  "I want you. And I think you feel the same."
  I could feel something jutting against my leg. I brought my mouth to his ear and breathed:
  "Fuck me."
  As he yanked my head away from his, I thought he was going to throw me off him and yell at me in disgust. But he didn't. Instead, he forced my face towards his and met our lips in a full kiss. I suppressed a sigh of amazement, twining my arms around him. In a brief moment when our lips were apart, he gasped, "You're fifteen!"
  "You're twenty four," I replied matter-of-factly, forcing my mouth back on his.
  Kissing Simon was an unbelievable sensation; his taste was intoxicating, and it made me feel like my entire soul was on fire. I held back a moan as he ran his wanting fingers through my long, dirty blond hair, loving the way his hands held us together.
  I managed to push him down on the sofa, so he was lying flat on his back with me on top of him. I didn't ever want to stop kissing him, not even for breathing, but he shook his head vigorously and sat up. Perhaps now was the time for him to tell me this was a mistake and to forget about it.  "Hold on," he almost growled, and he stood up, lifting me with him.
  I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and my arms were clasped around his neck. One of his arms was under my backside and the other securely around my back. He staggered over to the room I knew to be his bedroom, and threw me down onto the bed.
  "You sure you want to do this?" he asked.
  "Even if you have to rape me."
  This time it was him who sat on my legs, surveying me. A devilish smirk appeared on his face as his hand began to snake up under the green and black striped shirt I was wearing.
  "There's no going back once we start..."
  His hand crept up further, and my eyes scrunched up. I nodded. His fingers found a more sensitive area and tweaked it slightly before his hand slithered away.
  "Don't tease me," I murmured.
  "I'm sorry," he said, bending his head for another kiss.
  His wanting fingers slid to my back and I raised myself up to him, draping my arms around his back. My eyes were closed as Simon stroked up my arms, in the process removing my shirt. I clung to him, not wanting him to push me back and see the still visible imprint of the seatbelt. I hadn't thought about this when I practically gave myself to him. To distract him from this, I traced along his spine with my forefinger, a wave of satisfaction crashing down on me as I felt him tremble. Desperately, I removed his shirt and pressed my chest against his, ravishing the contact.
  Slowly, he pushed me back onto the bed, his kisses now trailing down my neck and chest. I let out a small moan as he reached my lower stomach, desperately wanting him to get there and at the same time dreading it. He carefully unfastened my belt and let his hand hover over that area.
  "Are you sure?" he whispered.
  Being unable to speak, I nodded. It's not like we could have stopped; things had already changed that couldn't be forgotten or put back to normal again. With a smile, Simon briefly met my lips before undoing the button and zip on my jeans. I wriggled out of them as he pulled down my underpants, exposing me. He made a sound that showed he was impressed, and returned his mouth to mine, gracing me with his sweet kiss. His hands were on either side of me, trapping me under him.
  Feeling like I was making a leap for the moon as I did so, I ran my hand down his stomach and then shoved it right down the front of his pants. The way his arms stopped supporting him and caused him to fall right on top of me let me know that I had certainly surprised him, hopefully in a good way. I moved my hand around slightly, making him tremble, and then used both hands to unfasten his trousers and pull them down as far as I could. He helped me in this task, and I tried not to stare at him in awe. I had imagined what he might look like before, but this was so much better.
  To distract myself from looking at him, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me, feeling every inch of available skin with mine. This was a sensation I could get used to. The best hadn't even come yet.
  In an amazingly tender way, he lifted himself from me and turned me around. I knew what was coming. Simon positioned himself carefully, leaning forwards to kiss my shoulder before entering me from behind. I bit down hard on my lip, astounded by the pain, but urged him to carry on. I could tell that he was holding back, and shook my head.
  "Harder," I murmured, my face almost in the pillow.
  He obliged unquestioningly, taking what I'd said absolutely seriously. It caused me to scream. I tried to calm myself, but my mind became more clouded with each thrust he made. Clouded with a mix of extreme pleasure and pain, and gratification that Simon seemed to be enjoying himself. A delicate hand reached to hold my already leaking erection, stroking it gently in time with the thrusts.
  "Simon!" I gasped as I came, feeling him do the same.
  Carefully, he pulled himself out of me and lay beside me, gasping for air. As I regained energy and more of my mind, I turned away from Simon and curled up into a ball, fully realising the seriousness of what had just happened. I knew that things between me and my uncle would never be the same again. I wondered what my parents would have thought of this. They would have absolutely hated it, possibly disowned me and never spoken to Simon again.
  But then a new feeling came to me. I felt used. I tried to tell myself that I only had myself to blame; I had practically begged for this, wanted to be his object. Yet there was a question in my mind: was this just lust or was it love? If it was love, then I didn't think Simon felt the same; he had hardly spoken to me recently. And now... he was lying there, next to me, not speaking, barely registering my existence. This made me feel hurt, and appalled that he must have been leading me on to just... use me.
  Warm tears leaked from my eyes, and I couldn't suppress a sob. Simon tensed beside me, realising that I was crying. Slowly but securely, he enclosed me in his arms, pulling my body to his, my back to his chest.
  "What's wrong?" he murmured into my ear. "Does it hurt?"
  I shook my head, not quite being able to speak. He ran his fingers across my shoulder in a caring way, causing me to bite my lip to stop sobs.
  "I... I thought this was just lust at first," I forced out. "But I think I was wrong. I think I'm in love with you. But I know you don't feel the same. I feel used. Even though this was my idea in the first place, my fault. You've hardly even spoken to me recently, I thought maybe you hated me... You're probably even on your way to finding a girlfriend. Why did I let this happen?"
  Now I had said that, I let the tears pour out and I tried to pull myself away from him to take refuge in my own bed. Simon held on to me tight.
  "You're not going anywhere. Look, the reason I haven't been speaking to you recently is because I've been thinking about you. I've been thinking how badly I want to... well, it's really perverted. I haven't got a girlfriend; I don't want one. And I don't hate you. The exact opposite. I've thought you were cute ever since I was ten and you were just a baby. I'm sorry if you feel used. I don't want you to feel like that. I... I love you," he breathed.
  The largest sob yet escaped my throat and I turned in his arms, holding on to him. His hands stroked my back, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. My head was buried in his shoulder, but I moved it to his so that we could share a passionate kiss.
  I knew that this relationship would be hard, and anyone who found out about it would force their own rancid opinion of it on us, but I didn't care. All I cared about was Simon: my uncle, my friend and my one true love.