You were sick and tired of him. Sick and tired of your missing panties returning ruined and sickeningly sticky with his release. The sick bastard didn’t even bother washing them, teeny dumping them back where he found them— or worse, like those two times he put them on your bedsheets.

You didn’t want to know what Aerion did with them, though by the looks of it, it was clear as day what he did.

You stopped leaving your laundry laying around, stopped leaving them out in the open, because you knew he’d come like a vulture, and snatch up your underwear from the hamper.

You haven’t caught him. Though you’ve heard him from time to time, which wasn’t a surprise since his room was just two doors away. Yet still, hearing it from your own brother… knowing your brother was a sick perv— it made your stomach churn.

---

You’ve had a long day— too long to think, too long to do anything other than leave your dirty clothes in the hamper and forget about it. All you wanted was a shower, and go straight to bed.

You forgot about Aerions habit for even the smallest of seconds. Forget for even this tiny moment, that your brother was a sick freak.

You haven’t even been gone five minutes— five minutes of you leaving your clothes but then returning when you suddenly remembered, yet he was already there.

His hand held up the worn fabric to his face, tongue darting over the slick patch that clung to the fabric, while his free hand palmed at himself— the sight was deranged, making you almost grimace.

He seemingly heard you and turned his head— no shame, no guilt, nothing other than sick satisfaction on his face.

„Oh? What are you looking at?“