After Cyrus's parents pass away after getting into a car crash, the Sykes take him in and treat him as their own.
He grows up alongside his childhood bestfriend Rosie inside a mansion. Life seemed great.
Well, right up until he fell into a depressi...
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《 s e x u a l c o n t e n t 》
Cyrus thought he was okay. He thought he had found his peace. Thought he was happy.
But once again, he was lying to himself.
And he had resorted to getting high. Again.
He needed some way to numb the pain; to rid himself of the loneliness.
So at 2 AM he found himself high, horny and staring at pictures of his baby Rosie.
It seemed pretty obsessive, but he had a whole folder with pictures of just Rosie on his phone. And sometimes her and him.
He found himself tempted to call her but he convinced himself not to knowing she would be asleep. Her bedtime was ten thirty.
"She's so young and innocent," he said aloud into the darkness of the room. "Too precious to be exposed to me."
Cyrus rolled his eyes when he realized his hand had been tucked in his sweatpants as he scrolled through the pictures of Rosie.
Hayze would have tied him up, tortured him and then disposed of his body if he knew what he was doing.
Rosie was only sixteen.
Two years younger than him. Underage. And so damn pure and perfect.
But he couldn't help but think about her and touch himself to pictures of her.
He had fallen for her sweet beauty. Her kind heart.
And he tried to deny the fact that he had developed a crush on his 'foster sister.' But it was becoming harder everyday.
Everytime she'd come in contact with boys that were too touchy or too flirty; he'd get upset.
But he brushed it off, saying that was a brotherly instinct.
But he was higher than a skyscraper now and he knew he was jealous.
He craved her petite body so badly.
He wanted her by his side. And she wasn't there.
"F~ck," he sniffled as he realized he had tears running down his face. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
He clicked on a video of Rosie gracefully dancing around the living room in her pointe shoes. She had been doing ballet for a while which had made her even more attractive to him because she was so graceful in her movements.
She had impressively strong legs from both ballet and track and wide hips that he wished he could hold onto as he thrusted inside of her.
Cyrus smothered himself with a pillow when the dirty thougths of Rosie resurfaced in his brain.
"Dammit," he cursed.
He wished his mom and dad were there to comfort him.
If they hadn't died in the first place; he'd be emotionally stable. And off drugs. He'd have a real family.
But no. Instead he'd gotten himself into trouble.
Cyrus scrolled down to a video of him and Rosie playing in the water together. Rosie was on his shoulders because she couldn't even stand where he could. But everytime the waves came in he'd basically be drowning himself just to protect her.
But they were both laughing.
Rosie was giggling as she held onto his hair, her off the shoulder one peice bathing suit dropping low to show off a bit of her cleavage. Her long hair was plastered along the curve of her back from the water and her face was dewy.
She looked so gorgeous.
Cyrus looked over and jumped when he noticed Rosie was sitting across from him in bed with her legs crossed and just an oversized hoodie on.
"F~ck! I'm so high," he exclaimed as he turned over onto his stomach and smashed his face into the pillows. He knew what he was seeing was all in his head - but really, he couldn't complain if this was the closet he'd be to Rosie for a while.
He peaked up and immediately reached into his pants for his length. "Rosie. I'm so horny," he slurred as he felt the room spin. She didn't answer. This hadn't been the first time he'd fantasized of his sweet girl - not at all. He often hoped that his first time would be with her. But a part of him was scared of the thought because he didn't want to go into it blindly. He wanted to make her feel good too, but how was he supposed to do that with no experience?
He lifted his hips off the bed and put a large pillow under his pelvis and thrusted into it, imagining it was Rosie. He stilled for a second, wondering if this was low of him to do. It was. It really was. But he was high so he had an excuse. People did stupid things when they were high.
He slowly started to move his hips and then sighed before slipping his pants down and his briefs. He was sensitive and the cool feeling of the pillow case sent him wild. "Yes baby, yes," he moaned as he thrusted himself into his pillow. "Rosie," he groaned. "I'm so sorry."
Being high had always given him a good imagination; but sometimes it turned him into the worst version of himself.
