Date: Wed, 12 Feb 2014 12:00:18 -0700 From: Durriken Homewood Subject: Beneath the Sycamore, Chapter 3 Beneath the Sycamore Chapter 2 (C) 2014 Durriken Homewood All Rights Reserved This story may not be reproduced in whole or in part without author's permission. The author grants the Nifty Archive a non-exclusive, worldwide, royalty-free, perpetual, and non-cancellable license to display this work. This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are a product of the author's imagination, or used fictitiously. Remember to show your love: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html -Chapter 3- Jeremy was different. After their experience the previous night beneath the old sycamore, it was as though Aaron had sent him to bed like the Universe compelling a caterpillar to spin its silk cocoon. He emerged the next morning, transformed into a butterfly, vibrant, beautiful and delicate; changed in such a way to catch Aaron's attention, drawing his eye to him and stirring up his carnal instincts. Toward the end of their shower, Aaron had tucked himself into a corner to share the water with his little brother, to drink in the sight of him as he rinsed the soap suds from his cream-smooth skin. He was a fit little manling, caught between childhood and being an adult, having shed the last of his puppy fat to reveal developing musculature in his boyish shoulders, arms and chest; the start of a six pack that came to the surface only when he was exerting himself. Though there were only a few wispy hairs at the base of his dick, he was well developed for someone his age, and obviously ready for more; ready for what Aaron would give him. The moment came after they were dried and dressed, when the house had sufficiently warmed beneath the summer sun to kick on the air conditioner. Aaron had lent Jeremy a spare laundry basket and followed him to his room to help him complete the chore, a task that the youth had made sound insurmountable but which was, by Aaron's estimation, no more than a few loads worth of work. "I told you I'd kept it clean," Jeremy declared, thrusting out his chest and fixing Aaron with a satisfied smile. "I even vacuumed." Aaron looked around him, nodding in spite of the unmade bed, the cluttered desk, and the column of clean clothes atop the dresser. He detected a hint of air freshener, found on their mother's plug-in devices in a wall socket emitting a feminine, floral scent inappropriate to a boy's room that covered, but did not banish, Jeremy's natural musk. "You shouldn't let Mom put these in here," he said, unplugging the thing. Jeremy plopped down onto his bed, wrinkling his nose. "She said it smells like a locker room without it." "How would she know?" Aaron asked, tossing it into the wire waste basket beside the desk. It landed with a muffled thud on a bed of crinkled notebook paper. Without the chemical heavy, fake-flower fumes, his little brother's aroma reasserted its dominance, an almost sweet warmth hanging over a deeper, earthy tone; not what Aaron would call pleasant, but neither was it foul. It was the odor of pubescence, and he knew from whence it emanated. "When was the last time you washed your bedding?" He approached Jeremy's bed, knelt before it and then dipped his nose to the blanket. As he suspected, the scent was strongest there, amidst the fabric stained with countless nights of wet dreams and even more portions of hand-whipped boy batter, of peppery underarm and sugary ball-sweat, all combined to toxic rankness. He sank back on his haunches, sucking in fresher air to dispel the overwhelming smell from his nostrils. "Last month," Jeremy answered. He pulled the blanket to his face and took a deep whiff of it. "Why?" "Your blanket is not a cumrag," Aaron replied, and stood. Jeremy's cheeks turned the color of a cherry, his moss-green eyes turning to the empty tissue box on the nightstand beside a depleted bottle of lotion. Aaron followed his gaze. The tissue box was of the same design their parents had bought on their Wednesday shopping trip, an orange and yellow swirling pattern with lemon colored papers inside. One of its companions sat in Aaron's bedroom, unopened. Aaron grabbed the box, checked the inside to make sure it really was empty. "Christ, bro," he said, laughing. "How many times a day do you beat-off?" When Jeremy did not reply, his bottom lip aquiver, Aaron realized his banter was being taken as cruelty. He sat alongside his brother, draping an arm across his naked shoulders and pulling him to his side. The contact sizzled along his skin, an electric spark that headed into his groin, revivifying his slumbering prick. He pressed his lips to Jeremy's crown, inhaling the fruity fragrance of his shampoo on still damp hair. "I didn't mean to embarrass you," he muttered in apology. Holding Jeremy close, he laid back, grabbing one of the pillows from the top of the bed and stuffing it between the wall and his head. His brother came with him, resting a warm cheek against his chest, soft palm over his navel. "I jerk off a lot too, you know," he said, stroking a line along Jeremy's side. "More, now that I'm single. I use an old tee shirt to squirt in. We can find one for you too." Jeremy mumbled something in reply, too low and indistinct to be heard. "What?" His brother heaved a sigh. "I said that I wished I was that old tee shirt." He sat up, turning his body to sit cross-legged on the bed. "That's weird, isn't it? That I want to be your cumrag." The memory of Jeremy kneeling in the shower before him, accepting each potent blast of cum without complaint and then licking it from his lips like a supplicant accepting the kiss of a god flashed before his mind's eye. He was aware of Jeremy like never before, a thirsty desert sensing rain gathering along the horizon, yearning to quench himself upon him. His presence stilled the loneliness that Heidi's absence had left, filling the void within, fitting into the chasm as no one else could. His cock gave an involuntary flex, as though it had heard Jeremy too and approved of using him as a receptacle for its juices. "You'd be kinda hard to stuff under my bed," Aaron joked, but his brother's gaze was locked on the front of his pajama pants, drawn there through the magnetic attraction of a born cock-lover to his fantasy. He forced another pulse through his member, smiling as Jeremy's eyes grew larger with delight, his tongue a pink spark darting out to moisten scarlet, pouty lips. He cleared his throat, watched the pain of having to drag his eyes away from his object of fascination flash across Jeremy's face. Lines of tension were drawn down his body in twitching muscles held fast against desire. It was like looking at a starving child being parked outside of a McDonald's and forced to watch the buffet of food pass by the window, salivating for the simplest of things: a golden, crispy french fry left on a tray; a ketchup covered pickle slice so meanly discarded; an ice-cream cone melting over a fat-fingered hand. No one had ever looked at him like that, with that intense, fiery need. It ignited something inside of him, touching a place he thought had been left forever in darkness with Heidi's leaving, not that she ever managed to do more than throw a flashlight beam into it. It was the one thing that was lacking in their ruined relationship; her inability to let go the way that Jeremy was vibrating to do. Reaching out, crossing the precipice dividing them, he took Jeremy by the bicep, gave the young muscle a gentle squeeze and then pulled, urging his little brother to lean toward him until his face filled Aaron's vision. A trace of cool mouthwash lingered on Jeremy's shuddered breath, joined by the citrus spiked aroma of the body wash Aaron had let him use. The unspoken agreement, a request and permission granted, passed between their joined gazes. Aaron tipped his chin, catching Jeremy's lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, felt his brother's skin erupt in goose pimples, and guided him closer still, to climb atop him and straddle his waist. Jeremy's tension drained beneath his fingertips, and as he parted his lips, their bellies touched. Aaron followed his lead, opening his mouth to answer the call of tongue to tongue, his hands drifting down tight back muscles, slipping under cotton sweatpants to cup smooth cheeks, and then up again to disappear in the youth's soft hair. He broke their mouths apart, clenching his fingers and pulling two fistfuls of Jeremy's hair back. His face was locked in bliss, his mouth turned up into a satisfied smile even as he winced a from the pressure on his scalp. Aaron waited until he had opened his eyes again, adding a miniscule amount of strength to his grip and tugging Jeremy's head from side to side, finding no resistance. His pupils were wide, devoid of fear and hesitation, lost in the pleasure of the kiss; submissive. Their foreheads touched; their noses. He claimed Jeremy's mouth again, a whispering, gliding kiss that danced from mouth to cheek, cheek to jaw, jaw to neck. He tasted the sensitive flesh there, nibbling and licking, scraping with teeth and sucking with lips, drawing forth from Jeremy a reedy sigh pulled from the bottom of longing. Joined together, they rolled as one onto their sides to lay lengthwise on the bed, one of Jeremy's legs curling over the crest of Aaron's hip, a hand drawing knuckles of sensation down Aaron's centerline. He sensed his little brother's hesitation when he brushed the waistband of his pajamas, and pulled away to study his ruddy face. He was in such pain! There was nothing obvious in either the gentle curve of his smile or the relaxed brow, but Aaron saw it deep in Jeremy's gaze, a yearning that needed to be satisfied; saw it in the growing stain that darkened the front of his gray sweatpants. Reaching between their bodies, he took Jeremy by the wrist and shoved his hand down the front of his pamajas, releasing him only when his fingers had curled around his leaking cock, and then pulling the bottoms down to give his little brother more room to work with. Jeremy squeezed from base to tip, dragged his palm across the head, gathering the slime into his hand. He brought it to his lips, licking Aaron's precum with closed eyes and catching breath, a delicate moan uttered into the cup of his hand. The sound bubbled in Aaron's brain, brought a playful smile to his lips, and he let out a soft chuckle, kissing his little brother's forehead. "What?" Jeremy whimpered. "Nothing." Aaron guided him back to his prick, stroking himself with Jeremy's fist, forcing him to jerk faster, to ease the tension building up in his nuts quicker. Later, he could enjoy a slower, more luxurious hand-job, but right now, he needed to get off: the urgency of a swollen cock left too long hard. The fire danced along the edge of dick, receding inside and then jumping back within grabbing distance. He filled his nose with Jeremy's scent, breathing him in like a healing balm. Close. He was so close; lost in the sensation, in the pleasure cresting up, up. Jeremy snatched his hand away, sat up. Aaron growled. "Why did you..." The doorbell rang, the music of Westminster chimes echoed through the house, loudest outside of Jeremy's room. "Someone's at the door," Jeremy whispered in a panic. He pulled Jeremy back down beside him, not caring who it was. Whoever it was could be dealt with once he was done. Holding his brother tight to his body, he took over the task, feeling the ache of the postion in his shoulder, burning through his forearm and wrist. Heat pooled at the base of his cock, and he felt his balls tighten, ready to shoot their heavy load. "Oh God...I'm close..." As though it was a cue and Jeremy an actor, his little brother dipped toward his groin, humid breath washing over the wet, pulsing head. Stars burst behind Aaron's eyes as pleasure swept over his body. His cock exploded, and the world went dark with feeling: his fist pounding against Jeremy's face; puffy lips forming a ring over the emptying hole, slurping up his cum; a tongue flattening over the burning head to lap up what dribbled out at the end. The doorbell jingle-jingled, was followed up by a knock, and the sound of the locked knob being twisted. "Jeremy? Aaron?" A masculine voice called out, muffled by the door and the wall, but loud enough to pass through his little brother's open window. "Are you guys home?" Aaron moaned a curse, and looked down at the top of Jeremy's nodding head as he licked the last traces of spunk that had gotten away from him. His cock gave a feeble pulse at the sight, but was too satisfied to do more than let Aaron know it approved. Another rapid, persistent knock. "Christ!" Aaron sat up, catching Jeremy before he tumbled over the edge of the bed. His brother was in a cum drunk daze, bleary eyes not quite in focus as he accepted Aaron's assistance. "Jeremy...come on little brother...snap out it." Jeremy blinked, precious lips turning up into a smile, begging for one last kiss. Aaron obliged, tasting himself in his brother's mouth and finding that it was not as disgusting as he thought it would be. "I'm coming," he shouted out to the caller, hating him for making him leave Jeremy's side. He fixed his grumpiest looking expression onto his face and tucked himself back into his pajamas. At the entrance, he threw open the door. "What the f..." There, standing on the front step, red-eyed and wet-faced, he found his best friend, Luke. His tight black shirt was ripped along the collar, and one shoe was missing from his sockless feet. An angry red mark circled his neck, as though something had pulled off of him hard and fast enough to leave a friction burn. He gave Aaron a weak, watery smile, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, long chestnut hair a wild tangle falling over his face. "Luke?" At hearing his name, the youth collapsed onto Aaron, throwing his arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. He stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and propping his friend up against the wall. He flinched, hunched forward to reduce the contact between himself and the wall, supporting himself on Aaron's shoulders. "What happened?" Luke's answer was just loud enough to cross through the air between them and stab at Jeremy's brain, awakening black, chain wielding demons within. "Thespian..." He slammed Luke against the wall, a nearby table quaking with the force of the impact, and stepped into his space, fingers at his throat. "My brother is here," he said through clenched jaw, punctuating every word with an angry, warning tone. "Please..." he sobbed in reply, "Please...Thespian..." Aaron stepped back, grinding his teeth, his better angels winning through. He had been the one to make the promise, and whether he believed he would ever have to fulfil it or not didn't matter. Luke had given the code-word. "Clean yourself up," he spat, "and wait in my room." Luke sniffled, nodded. "Thank you." Fuck! This was not what he needed right now; not when he was just starting to get comfortable with the idea of fooling around with his brother. Shit, Jeremy! He ran down the hall, following its curve to Jeremy's open bedroom door. He was on his feet, stripping the blanket and top sheet from his bed, his bare pillows sitting in a puffy mound on his desk chair. "Who was it?" "Just Luke," Aaron answered, trying to inject his voice with calm. "He...he's gonna hang out for a little bit, if that's okay with you. He and his girlfriend broke up." Jeremy turned sad eyes to him. "Can we still...you know?" Grinning, Aaron pulled him into a tight embrace. "Give me a couple minutes to recharge," he replied. "Why don't you get your laundry done, and I'll deal with Luke. Okay?"