Uncomfortably Arousing

CHAPTER-1

UNCOMFORTABLY AROUSING

-by GuiltDope

"I'll fucking see you in the ground tomorrow, asshole,"

I shout as my friend's bike fades down the dusty road, leaving me standing at the gate.

Inside, Akka Ramya(20) sits by the cracked window, the faint scent of jasmine from her hair mingling with the sharp tang of nail polish. Anna Ranjith(25) struggles with the heavy gas cylinder carrying into kitchen, but his little finger suddenly bangs hard against the kitchen doorframe.

"Fuck!" he yells, clutching the throbbing spot.

Ramya jumps up, dipping her fingertip into a small bowl of turmeric powder, the bright yellow dust puffing softly into the air. She presses it gently onto his bleeding wound, her fingers lingering longer than necessary.

Maybe Akka is only treating the injury as usual, but to me, the way they move--the quiet, knowing smiles, the soft brush of her hands against his skin--it feels like something else entirely. Something forbidden and electric, something I'm not supposed to see but can't tear my eyes away from. The feeling twists inside me--uncomfortably arousing.

A month ago, I turned the age where they say you're allowed to choose for yourself. I don't know if I was ready--but life doesn't wait for readiness. I am the youngest--the watcher in this family. Ranjith and Ramya are My brother and sister. Here in India. Family is everything. Sacred. When Papa died five years ago, everything shifted. Amma works as a school teacher now, and my brother--he's become the man of the house.

He's average-looking, average height. The only thing that stands out is his silence--and that permanently angry face. Here in India, you might not know, but women are obsessed with that look. Not just women--men too. We treat it like something heroic. That's why we rarely have movies with weak and vulnerable protagonists. Nobody roots for the soft ones

. Anna's finger has almost healed. But the quiet unrest I felt that day? still lingers, raw.

We sat at the dining table for breakfast. Amma with us, and Ramya, my sister, the one who mostly serves. Lately, I watch her like never before--the way her hand moves when she talks, those small expressions she makes, the ones only Anna seems to understand. I even know how she smells now--like jasmine baking in the heat.

I can't meet her eyes anymore. Not because I'm ashamed of what I feel, but because I know it's not just me. You're thinking it too.

Ramya places the idlis before me. Eight. Amma asks why so many. She says, "We'll all eat together." Amma doesn't suspect a thing--no flicker of doubt in her eyes. But as Ramya leaves the room, my hunger dies. Something darker wakes inside me. A new hunger, one I can't name.

She disappears into the next room. A moment later--

"Ammaaaa!" she shouts.

There's pain in her voice.

Amma doesn't flinch. She just says, "Don't fight, both of you."

I freeze.

Was that pain real? Or something else?

My thoughts spiral. Did Anna bite her lip? Did he grab her too hard?

I don't know. I don't want to know.

And yet--I want everything.

I want to see. I want to know.

I want to understand this twisted thing blooming inside our house.

And worse--inside me.

Heat pools low, heavy and urgent.

I bite my lip, heart racing, body betraying me with every breath.

My jeans grow damp, soaked with a hunger I can't name.

I left the food half-eaten on the table, not even minding Amma calling me, shedding my pants and underwear. It stood like the Statue of Liberty. For the first time, a desperate urge took hold--an urge to touch, to lose control. I closed my eyes and saw Akka on my bed--not quite naked--her lips glistening, wet with tongue, eyes daring me with a wicked, sweaty heat. Just like that, I tumbled into a dark ecstasy I'd never imagined could exist.