𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚 || 𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒆 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

003 | Shower Show

Brahms's POV:

A week or two had passed, and it seemed like Y/N had slowly gotten used to the feeling of being watched, only because she thought I was an 8-year-old boy. But I can act and sound as such; it's basically the same thing.

I had been slow with my approach, slower than I had been with my previous nannies, but that's because, unlike the others, I did want to keep this one. I had continued with my giggles ever since she heard about the fire; I even switched it up with a few sweet comments and affirmations. That seemed to do the trick; she didn't flinch with every crack the house let out and didn't cry or dissociate whenever she found that a few things had been misplaced or even lost anymore; she knew it was me, and it made her giggle herself sometimes.

I had even begun a game with her where I'd take her socks and shoes and put them in different places in the house. They weren't impossible to find; it just took a while. That way, I could hear the little taps her delicate feet made while she was looking for the items I hid, and I could watch how soft her feet, and how cute her toes were.

Her meals were delicious, she was kind and caring, and she was absolutely stunning. Mom had picked out the perfect little thing for me to keep. At first, I let her keep her privacy; she was already nervous and found it difficult to relax, and it wasn't like I could get much enjoyment out of such emotions.

But that didn't mean the sound of the water changing its pace as she walked into the shower wasn't alluring; that didn't mean I didn't want to watch her change her underwear; and that didn't mean I didn't find it difficult to hold myself back from taking her most beloved panties from the washroom. I still got a used pair, though; she was incredibly gullible by thinking the washing machine had just accidentally made it disappear. 'socks disappear all the time too', I remember her telling herself as she raised an eyebrow at the lost piece of clothing.

As of now, I have been able to take a dress, two different kinds of socks, and the pair of used panties. I was disappointed I hadn't been able to take more things, but I was contained in my findings; it was okay for a while.

That time of acceptance didn't take long; I got frustrated, and those constant teases Y/N unconsciously gave me did the opposite of helping me, and her accepting the feeling of my presence to me felt like I was allowed, so when she had put me to bed and I heard her closing the bathroom door, it was only logical for me to finally take a look. I had been a good boy to her, so this was her gift of appreciation to me.

I watched from behind the two-sided mirror in the bathroom as she undressed. Her clothing glided past her curves as if she were giving me a show on purpose. She started posing in front of the mirror once she was finished, seeing what she looked like, wondering what she liked about it, and whatnot, touching herself in such ways to give herself more curves than she already had. To me, it was perfect; her skin looked even softer and more delicate than her feet; it looked like it wanted to be touched and wanted to be loved.

I couldn't help but notice a bulge forming in my pants, a contained feeling I didn't enjoy, so I freed my cock, which was already leaking pre-cum because of the show Y/N had already given me.

I stroked it as I continued watching her wait for the water to turn warm, and my stroke quickened as I saw her body become completely wet from the artificial rain. The droplets from the shower gliding over her behind made her look inviting, and her softly squeezing her breasts to clean them made me imagine my own hands touching her like that, and making her let out unimaginable, lewd sounds because of my touch. The thought made me whimper softly, and I needed to hold myself up by putting my arm over my head against the wall to keep my balance because of how good she made me feel.

Y/N's POV:

You had grown used to the house and to Brahms, and found myself feeling more comfortable as the days passed. You were even able to shower comfortably every day now, and somewhere, deep down, you were proud of that achievement. At first, you had been too afraid to; constantly feeling like you were being watched wasn't something you enjoyed, but once you realised that feeling had to have come from the presence of a little boy in the house, it died down whenever you put him to bed.

Tonight didn't feel any different at first. You did your routines as usual, feeling comfortable, and being able to keep your guard down. Until you heard this silent bunk against something, the only way you'd be able to describe it would be as if someone had slammed his fist against the walls. You looked up, trying to hear anything else, but quickly decided it must've been the wind that made the house creak, or let something fall over.

The shower as a whole didn't feel the most private for some odd reason, but you didn't let it ruin your mood; you finally felt safe and comfortable, and you weren't going to let some wind make you feel scared again. At some point, you thought you had heard a man's voice whimper or moan as well, but that wasn't possible. As you had rationalised that knock before, you blamed this on the wind as well; wind and old houses make the most peculiar kinds of noises.

Even though the sounds didn't make you fall back into feeling unsafe again, you couldn't help but feel cautious when you put your pyjamas on and went under the covers, holding Gregory tight as if he were able to protect you from anything hurtful or dangerous in this house.