Date: Sat, 20 Jul 2019 17:34:37 -0400 From: RJ Subject: Brothers at Arms - Ch. 10 Brothers at Arms by RJ This story involves the relationship between two brothers. If you do not like themes of incest or adult/youth, do not read this story. For those who have been following this story since the beginning, this will be the final chapter (for real this time). I've had a blast adding to the story of Dean and Stevie, and I'm happy with how I've concluded things in this chapter. Thanks so much for taking the time to get to know these two, and I hope you all enjoyed the ride! If you have any questions or comments about this piece, want to know about any of my other works, or just want to reach out, please don't hesitate to email me. A list of my works, including links and descriptions, can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI. If you would like to be added to a mailing list for this story (or all stories) and receive emails about any updates, let me know. Please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ~ CHAPTER 10 ~ (Dean's POV) "I don't wanna tell 'em." I sigh, rubbing my palm against my face. "Not this again." "What?" Stevie challenges, looking up at me, but he's still whispering a bit. Mom and Dad are in the next room, after all. "You keep going back and forth on this. Make up your fuckin' mind." I stare at him as I take a long sip of my water, leaning against the counter while he paces back and forth in the kitchen. He came in here to get juice, but now he's too busy stressing himself out over whether or not he wants to break the news to our parents. "I *have* made up my mind," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't want to tell them." "So you just wanna disappear without them knowing?" I question quietly. "No, but--" "We can't just up and leave. Especially you." Stevie makes a face. "Don't start that aga--" "Don't change the subject," I interrupt, pointing at him. I don't want to argue about who's the favorite child, because I know we'll digress if we do. "We're telling them tonight. *You're* telling them tonight." "But--" "Case closed." I say it with finality, looking at him hard. Stevie slumps a bit. He takes a second to think it over, but right when he opens his mouth (probably prepared with some sort of excuse), Mom calls us from the dining room. "Boys! Your food's gonna get cold!" I give him a look before leading the way into the dining room and joining our parents at the table, leaving Stevie to get his drink and return to dinner. I'm eager to dig in, and I stack my plate with the fattest piece of steak and a greedy helping of garlic mashed potatoes. "Make sure you eat some salad," Mom tells me, eyeing my plate. "I will," I say simply, though I know damn well I won't be touching that salad. Stevie comes in a moment later, taking a seat beside me and sighing a bit as he starts filling up his plate. In contrast to me, he grabs mostly salad and the smallest piece of steak he can find. He looks upset as he pours dressing on the greens, and I feel a little bad that I'm making him break the news. But it has to be him. He's the one that's defying expectations. If I were to pull a stunt like this, I doubt Mom and Dad would think much of it. But Stevie? To reassure him, I reach under the table and nudge his knee, and when he looks over at me, he smiles. He slides his hand under the table to meet mine, and I let him gently hold onto a few of my fingers. Mom and Dad seem to be talking intently about something, but eventually, I interrupt. "Stevie has something he wants to tell you guys." Both Mom and Dad pause, glancing at me before looking at their youngest son. Stevie hits me with a glare before busying himself with his food, continuing on as if he hadn't heard me. "What's up?" Dad asks. "Nothing," Stevie mutters, giving my fingers a painful squeeze in retaliation. I pull my hand away quickly. Mom looks at me skeptically before addressing Stevie. "What's going on?" Stevie looks up and then sighs, swallowing his bite and setting his fork down so that he's not distracted by his dinner. He takes a breath before glancing towards our parents and breaking the news: "We're moving to LA." Total silence. I stare at Mom and Dad as I chew my food, gauging their reactions. They just look so confused, gawking, mute. It's almost funny. "Los Angeles?" Mom asks after a moment. "As in... California?" "Yep." "...What?" Mom asks, still clearly bewildered. "Why do you wanna move across the country? And who is 'we'?" "Me and Dean," Stevie says, only addressing the latter question. Mom glances at me only for a second, but Dad stares in my direction even as Mom continues speaking to Stevie. "I don't understand. What about Yale?" I feel tense under Dad's calculating gaze, but luckily Stevie says something surprising enough to get his attention. "I don't wanna go to Yale," he says. "I'm going to UCLA." "What?" both Mom and Dad say simultaneously, staring at Stevie. I can understand their surprise. Stevie got into Yale easily enough, so it seemed like the obvious choice. Plus, this is the first they've heard of Stevie expressing interest in something other than Yale. "Or Caltech. Haven't decided yet." "Caltech?" Mom repeats, stunned. "I..." Mom just shakes her head. "I don't understand. I didn't even know you were *looking* to go that far." We've had this plan for a while now -- but of course, we've kept it between us. With Stevie's high school graduation just around the corner, the future had been looming over us, threatening to put our relationship to an end. But both of us knew that we didn't want to be separated. We were too invested in each other to just call it quits. Distance wasn't an option either. Living forty minutes away was hard enough. Our love for each other was our primary motive, and everything else became secondary, filler. The idea to move out West came to me after an opportunity arose a couple months ago. After playing my music at enough coffee houses and open mic nights, I slowly gained a small, local following -- and eventually, I got noticed by someone "important." Someone called someone who called someone who got into contact with me. I was incredibly skeptical at first, but I had Stevie do a bunch of research -- and it turns out, this dude is legit. He wants to meet, and offered to fly me out to L.A. in order to discuss my talent and my future. After that offer, Stevie and I playfully toyed around with the idea of moving. It was just a meeting, after all, but what if we both went and just didn't come back? It was fun to think about, but the more we mentioned it, the more we thought "Why the fuck not?" We're still young, and it would be good for us to start fresh somewhere, maybe even be a little more open about our relationship -- a fantasy we both share. Stevie was concerned that I was giving up on a good opportunity with Hocksmith, but I thought this was a better opportunity overall. I could really make something of myself without having to go through all the schooling. Besides, if I'm being honest, the best take-away from getting into that school was the confidence it gave me. Our desire to move out west didn't become that serious until Stevie told me he had applied to colleges all around the area. That's when I knew he was *really* thinking about this, that this could be an actual possibility, that, in the very-near future, we could be living it up in California. I even took up a second job and filled up most of my free time with working, saving up as much as I could. Unsurprisingly, Stevie got into all the schools he applied to (even though he was nervous that he wouldn't), and I took that as a clear sign that we should fucking do this. We should move. Even if nothing comes from meeting this big shot producer, my credits would transfer to the one of the schools *I* got into, and I could keep pursuing my love of music, studying to become a producer. It could work. It could really fucking work. It's still a risk, of course. I can't say I've saved a *ton* of money, but I've already got an apartment on hold for us that (all things considered) isn't that expensive. Plus, between the money I've saved up and the surprising amount of money Stevie made off of the book of stories we finally managed to get published, we have enough to buy us time -- enough time to settle, to find work, to really start a life together. "Kind of a recent decision," Stevie says, looking at me briefly. "A *rash* decision," Mom says, wide-eyed. "This is... I mean, have you guys even thought this through?" "Yes," I butt in. She looks at me with a glare, and I can almost sense what she's feeling: like I've corrupted her son. "How, exactly?" she demands. "We both got into schools there, and I have a place lined up for us." She stares at me. "What about work? How do you expect to pay for any of it?" "We have money saved up," I tell her, still eating slowly. "And I'll find work." "You'll find work," she mocks, a mix between confused, angry, and disbelieving. "Right. So you're just going to show up in L.A. with no plan? Is that it?" "We *do* have a plan--" "Not a very *good* one!" Mom says loudly before her head snaps towards her husband. "What do you have to say about all this?" There's a heavy pause as Dad looks at me and Stevie, clearly thinking about something. It's strange being under his gaze, knowing what he knows. When he caught us last year, I was sure it'd put a damper on our relationship, or that he'd look at us uncomfortably every time he saw us. But there were no disapproving looks, no curious stares, no more warnings about how I might soil his youngest son. Sometimes he gave us one of those knowing smiles when he saw Stevie getting to cozy with me, even when I tried to get him to be more discreet, so I'm sure he has at least a small sense of how deep our relationship is. But all in all, I don't think Dad cares. Finally, he speaks, addressing me specifically. "You're sure about this?" "Yes." I hold his gaze for a moment before he nods and turns to Mom. "I think it's a great idea." Mom immediately goes off the rails, but what's said is said. I've never felt more thankful for our father, and when he turns back to his food and takes a bite out of his steak, he looks up at me and hits me with an inconspicuous wink, even while Mom is berating all of us for our "senselessness". I smile brightly, squeezing Stevie's thigh reassuringly under the table, happy to have Dad's blessing -- the only time it has really mattered to me. It takes Mom a while to wrap her head around the idea of both her kids moving all the way across the country, way out of her reach. I can't say I blame her. She had had it in her head that Stevie would still be somewhat close, attending Yale, but we sprung a completely conflicting plan on her. Dad suggests she sleep on it (mostly just to calm her down), and eventually they both head to their bedroom, leaving me and Stevie to our own devices. Stevie and I handle cleaning up the kitchen before heading up to his room. It'd be a good time to head back to my apartment, but I had planned on sleeping over anyway. Stevie has school in the morning and I don't have work until the afternoon, so it seemed a good time as any to get some time in together -- even though Stevie has a huge physics project to work on. Still, I don't really mind. We've gotten to the point where we don't need to actually be doing things together. We just like each other's company. While Stevie sits on the floor and works on putting together his poster for his final, I do some yoga. I stick to some light poses while Stevie and I chat, but I rush through them to get to the corpse pose. That's still the only one that really does it for me in terms of relaxation. The rest has made me a little more flexible, which is cool and all, but after a long day, I *feel* different after that specific pose. "By the way, Julian called again," Stevie says as I lie flat on my back with my eyes closed and focus on my feet. "You should give him an answer," I tell him. I got into contact with Julian when I wanted to publish Stevie's book of poems, and ever since the success of the first book, Julian has been pestering Stevie for more. He sees something in Stevie's writing, and though I agree, I know Julian mostly sees Stevie as an opportunity for a heftier paycheck. Stevie just sighs. "He expects me to just shit out stories like it's nothing, but that's not how it works." "So tell him that," I say, breathing out through my nose. I can't hold a conversation *and* do this pose at the same time. My concentration has to be focused. "What if I can't write anymore?" he asks. I open my eyes and look over at him as he unbundles strips of coated wire. "What do you mean, 'anymore'?" He peers over at me only for a second. "I haven't written anything new in forever." "Nothing?" "Nothing *good*," he specifies, starting to lay wires out on his poster. I'm not entirely sure what he's doing. Something about "harvesting solar more efficiently" or some shit. He's explained it to me twice already and I still don't get it, although right now, it looks more like a crafts project than something for a science class. I sit up on my elbows, abandoning the yoga. "I'm sure that's not true." "It *is* true, Dean," he says, pausing for a moment as he looks at me. "I'm just not in the right headspace. I mean, I wrote all those stories when I was a depressed middle schooler slash freshman." "You were depressed?" I ask, surprised. "Well I wasn't *happy*," he clarifies, adjusting his glasses. "You know how your music... Well, I don't wanna sound corny, but you know how your music usually comes from a place of pain?" I nod slightly. "Sure." "It's like that for my writing." I think about it for a moment. "So, what, you're happy now?" He smiles slightly. "Maybe I am," he says before going back to his project. I smile at him, glad that he's happy. That's exactly how I want my boy to be. I shift closer to him, sitting up against his bedframe and watching him start to organize where he wants things to go on his poster, wondering if *I'm* happy. It's a strange thought. I definitely feel something like happiness when I'm with Stevie, and over the past couple years, I've gotten steadily better at managing my anger, processing emotions, allowing myself to feel things and be open about them. I'm on an upswing. I still write music, and like Stevie said, usually I have to get into that headspace if I write something more raw or emotional. I can draw from my past easily enough if I feel motivated to write a new song, but I love where I'm at right now -- and I'm even more excited about where I'm going. This could be big for me, this L.A. gig. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe Mr. Big Shot won't think much of me and he'll send me on my way. But I could still go to school. I could still become a producer myself, and write my own shit on the side. And best of all, Stevie will be with me. Even if it doesn't end up being anything for *me*, this move is big for *us*. It's like we're getting a shot at living out our little fantasy and making it as a couple. "Do you think we can pull it off?" I ask when the thought comes to me. "Pull what off?" he asks, still meticulously laying out the wires onto his poster board. I think he's trying to make it look as aesthetically pleasing as possible, though I still don't know what the fuck his goal is. "The whole couple thing." I know he's particularly excited about that: moving to a new place where people don't know us, where we can be a little more open about our relationship, a little more public. "I think so," he says, biting on the tip of his tongue as he looks back and observes his handiwork. "But what are people gonna say?" I ask. "We have the same fuckin' last name." "Say that we're married." I snort. "Married?" He turns to me for a moment, thinking. Then, he grabs some spare black wire, cuts off a small piece, and sits in front of me. "Gimme your hand," he says as he starts ripping the coating off the copper wire and fashions the wire into a twisted circle. I raise my eyebrows, holding out my right hand until he requests the other one. Once my left hand is out, he takes the circle of wire and slides it onto my ring finger. I look down at it, surprised by how fancy it looks for such a quick, cheap fix. In a matter of thirty seconds, he managed to make a simple braided ring for me. But why--? "A placeholder," he says, smiling at me. "For the future." When we lock eyes, I know right then and there that I'd marry him. I'd wed the little fucker. I don't know how we'd be able to manage it legally, or how we'd explain anything to people we know personally, but I would absolutely make him mine in the eyes of the law. And I'd be his. It's a good ruse, sure, for if people ever ask us nosy questions out in L.A. We can just say we're married. But the way Stevie said "For the future" implies that he's thinking what I'm thinking, that we have the same goal in mind, the same crazy desire. The notion makes both my heart swell and my cock twitch, and I'm feeling a confusing clusterfuck of emotions. But mostly, I'm happy. I'm so happy right now that I start tearing up. I can't stop it. Stevie looks at me with a concerned expression. "Dean?" I just start laughing, laughing and crying at the same time, sniffling as I try to wipe the tears off my cheeks. A small part of me feels dumb fucking stupid for crying right now, but I don't care. I'm so happy. Before Stevie can say anything else, I grab the back of his head, tug him into me, and kiss him hard. I kiss him hard, and I kiss him deep, and I kiss him with everything I've got. I want him to know exactly how I'm feeling, and I want to get that message across with this kiss as best as possible. Our lips move insistently against each other -- no tongues, nothing lewd. This is all romance, the finest fucking romance. I pull back and mutter "I fucking love you, kid." Stevie pants against my lips, laughing shortly and clutching onto my shoulders before he leans in for more, quickly straddling my lap to get more comfortable. His arms snake around my neck as mine wrap around his small frame, and we kiss back and forth, keeping it slow and deep. When one of my hands slides up to the back of his head to stroke his hair, he moans softly against my lips, expelling hot breath against my mouth. In the desire to hear him moan again, I tug on his hair a bit and am treated to a small whimper. Music to my fucking ears. I grin slightly -- especially when Stevie guides my other hand down to his ass. I cup it in my hand, giving it a firm squeeze just as he snags my smiling bottom lip between his teeth, playfully tugging. The energy shifts a bit. Before, it was all sweet kisses and tender touches. Now, everything feels more sexual. I can tell mostly by the way Stevie grabs onto my shirt, tugging while he presses his hips deeper into my lap. I respond by giving him a helping of my tongue, groaning softly when he starts sucking on it gently, like he'd suck on a lollipop, or the head of my cock. Fuck, this kid... Stevie pulls back to slide his shirt off, making the first move. I help it over his head before sliding my hands across his smooth skin, admiring the body I've come to know so well -- better than my own body, really. One hand settles on his back as support as I lean in to kiss his neck. I suck on it hard, making him mewl softly and tug on my hair until I start kissing down towards his chest. Then, I take a nipple into my mouth. "Fuck," Stevie groans. "Not so loud," I mutter, going back to pressing into his nipple insistently with my tongue. I trace it in circles before sucking on it hard, causing Stevie to make a "Hmpf!" sound and clutch onto me even more tightly. I grin a bit, looking up at him before I snag his lips in a kiss. "You're so beautiful," I whisper against his lips. I can almost feel the heat radiating from his flushed cheeks. "Shut up," he says, smiling widely. "Shut me up," I fire back, smirking against his lips. He lets out a tiny moan before kissing me harder, practically pinning me against the side of the bed. I moan softly against his lips -- but that moan quickly turns into a louder groan as he teases my nipples through my shirt, squeezing both of them between his thumbs and index fingers. I feel this electrified sensation run through me when he manipulates them -- especially because he's not gentle. He pulls away from my lips and I catch my breath a bit. "Let me tie you up," he whispers. I lick my lips, looking at him. "Yeah?" He nods, giving me a soft kiss. "I wanna take care of you." I grin. "You just wanna use me." "That too." Well I like the sound of that. So I agree to it. I shift onto the bed, and I lie down comfortably as Stevie grabs a striped necktie from his dresser and brings it over. Once again, he straddles me, kissing me once before taking my hands, lifting them above my head, and tying them to the headboard with his necktie. Now I'm at his whim. I swallow a bit, my heart thudding and cock pulsing in my jeans. We've done this a few times, restraining each other in some way. Stevie particularly likes when I tie his hands behind his back and blindfold him at the same time. He just loves when I have my way with him, tease him to his absolute limits, fuck him like I'm using him. He gets the most explosive orgasms when we play like that. But every now and then, Stevie will get into a more dominant headspace, and I'll have to reach inside for the submissive part of me -- though lately, it's not that difficult. I find myself bending all sorts of ways for my little brother, now. "Shit," he mutters, running his hands over my torso. "What?" "I should have taken your shirt off first," he says with a little laugh. I smirk a bit. "Does it matter?" "Yes," he says, lifting my shirt up and touching my stomach. "I like seeing your body." Then, grasping the hem of my shirt, he lifts it up to my head and tucks it behind my neck so that my torso is exposed to him. "Mmm," he says, eyeing me. "Why are you so hot?" I laugh at the whiny tone to his voice. "I don't know." "You don't even work out," he says, tracing my abs. "It's not fair." "You jealous, little bro?" I tease. "No," he says, grinning and tugging gently on the hairs near my belly button. I moan softly before he puts both hands on my chest. "Your body is my body, so I still get to enjoy it." I snag my bottom lip between my teeth, looking up at him lustfully, lovingly. "Enjoy it, then." He locks eyes with me and licks his lips before leaning down and kissing me slowly -- *very* slowly. He cups my face in his hands and moves his lips at a snail's pace, but I can feel his passion. I can feel every subtle movement of his mouth and his fingers before he starts to move down. He kisses my chin and then plants smaller pecks down my throat, using more tongue the closer he gets to my chest. He moves in a completely straight line, steadily going lower but taking his sweet, sweet time. I just lie there helplessly, feeling chills prickling my skin wherever his hands touch me. I squirm a little more the closer he gets to my waist, and as he kisses across my belly button (after dipping his tongue in playfully), he starts undoing my jeans. Just a few seconds later and he has my pants open and is pulling them down my thighs to let my semi-hard cock flop back onto my stomach. I notice his eyes are glued to it even as he slides my jeans all the way down my legs. I grin to myself, amazed at how captivated Stevie still is by my cock. Isn't he used to it by now? Then again -- I am by no means "used to" seeing Stevie in any state of undress. It still hits me to my core, every time. He throws my pants to the floor and then kisses my skin again, starting with my inner thighs and slowly working his way closer to my groin. He doesn't touch my cock, though -- not until I'm fully hard and he can see my cock visibly throbbing. He teases around it, kissing close to my crotch, sometimes lightly stroking my balls with the very tips of his fingers. It makes me groan, and he waits until he sees a drop of precum oozing from the tip of my dick before he leans up and takes the head of my manhood into his smiling mouth. I have to do everything in my power to not moan too loudly. After all his slow movements and his teasing, the feeling of his mouth shocks my senses. I hiss instead, inhaling sharply and arching my back a little as Stevie dives right in and takes me deep. I swear under my breath, and Stevie hums around my cock, his slick little tongue working magic on me. The hottest thing about watching Stevie blow me is not the sensation -- it's how into it he gets. For the most part, his eyes are closed as he bobs up and down, tilting his head every which way and letting himself slobber over me. He hums on my cock like he's tasting the most delicious meal, taking me into his throat repeatedly but also making sure he suckles on the head often enough to get a good amount of precum on his tongue. When he does look up at me, I can see that glazed look in his eye, a look that tells me how foregone he is, how horny he is, how much he enjoys gabbing on his big brother's cock. It drives me wild. Stevie swallows nearly my entire cock, eyes closed in bliss, holding me in his throat for an impressively long time before he pulls off with a gasp. As he's catching his breath, he wraps his soft fingers around my shaft and slaps my manhood against his face a few times, even knocking his glasses a bit askew. "You're so fuckin' hot," I mutter. Stevie looks up at me as if he forgot I was even here, and then he smiles, quickly crawling up my body to plant his lips on mine. He kisses me tongue-first so that I get a good taste of myself before his flavor starts to set in. He keeps the kisses deep and spit-filled, and I swallow eagerly. Stevie pulls back just enough for me to feel his hot breath but not feel his lips. "You wanna fuck me?" I grin, nodding and licking my lips. "Yeah." His fingers find their way to either side of my neck. "Tell me." I grunt a bit. "I wanna fuck you." His fingers squeeze the outside of my throat, restricting blood flow -- just like I taught him. "You wanna fuck your little brother?" "Mmf... My little brother lover," I mutter. "Mhm," Stevie says, brushing his lips right against mine. Fuck, he's got me squirming and light-headed. "So in love with my big bro," he murmurs, and I feel my cock throbbing, achingly hard. I even feel his, too, as he grinds against my stomach. "You turn me on so fucking much." "Fuck, Stevie," I breathe out, my eyes rolling back. He giggles boyishly for a second before letting go of my neck, and I blink a few times as my sight returns. After I look down, I watch Stevie undressing himself completely, tossing his pants to the floor first before getting rid of his briefs. Then, he straddles me, his back to me as he presses his ass against my stomach and grips my thighs. He bends over, and I'm treated to the beautiful sight of his plump little butt, cheeks parting just enough to get a glimpse of that pink pucker between them. "You want it, big bro?" Stevie asks, pushing his ass closer. "Fuck yes," I mutter, realizing I'm drooling. I try to slurp up my spit, but some slips down my chin. "Lemme taste you, baby." Stevie slides back and moans when he realizes my tongue is already out, ready and waiting. I lean in and drag my tongue across his sweet hole, making him push back against me for more. I grin a bit and just enjoy being buried between those smooth cheeks of his, my tongue circling his sphincter and my lips kissing him sloppily, hungrily. I moan right against him when he grips my cock. Fuck, I am so hard, so hard for Stevie, the love of my life. How crazy is that? How did my little brother end up being the one for me? After a long, delicious session of Stevie sitting on my face, he pulls away from me, turns around, and straddles my lap. My hard-on hasn't gone down a smidge this whole time, so it stands at complete attention for him. He grins, pawing at it playfully before he spits down on it and rubs his saliva into my shaft, slicking me up enough to penetrate him. I bite my lip as he grasps my cock, holds it in place, and hovers over the tip. I feel the head of my dick nudge at his entrance before he relaxes and slides down on it. Both of us simultaneously sigh in contentment when we connect. He takes it slow, one hand pushing down on my abs as he steadily lowers himself until he's got my full cock inside of him. Once he's sitting squarely in my lap, Stevie puts his hands on my chest as he starts to grind deeply, and I arch my back a little bit, groaning. All that long teasing and sensual foreplay has got my cock practically ready to cum already. "Take it slow," I mutter. Suddenly, Stevie slaps my face -- not ridiculously hard, but enough to make me flinch, to make my skin feel hot, to make my cock throb like a motherfucker. "Don't tell me what to do," he says, being playfully dominant. As turned on as I am, I need him to stop. "Stevie, I'm gonna cum if you don't wait," I tell him. Realizing his mistake, he laughs. "Oh," he says, pausing his movements and sitting up straight in my lap. "Sorry." I grin a bit, still feeling the tingle of his slap against my cheek. "No you're not." He licks his bottom lip before hitting me again, far more gently than before, but this time, he keeps his hand on my face, pressing his fingers into one cheek and his thumb into the other. Then he leans down and kisses me. It's all lips with this one. We presses his mouth firmly into mine, our lips practically grinding against each other, hearing nothing but soft, wet smacks. We kiss like that for at least two minutes, ending with both of us laughing gently against each other. "You good now?" he asks. I nod. "Yeah." He sits up on my cock again, staring down at me as he starts to move his hips. I keep my eyes locked on his as he works his hips in slow circles. Once he starts raising and lowering himself, though, his eyes flutter closed, and I grin a bit, letting my sights wander his body. I watch every muscle in his core shift and flex. I watch his hand wrap itself around his own cock and stroke it slowly. I watch him sink into my lap every time he goes down. I still can't believe this. Looking up at him, I realize that it still blows my mind that this is my little brother bouncing on my cock right now, using me as a human dildo while my hands are tied to his bed. I can't help but laugh a little, and at the sound of me chuckling, Stevie opens his eyes and looks down at me. "What?" he asks, pausing. "Nothing," I tell him. "Just... This is insane." "What is?" "This. Us," I say, but I'm smiling. "We're a couple. We're moving across the fucking country together. That's crazy shit, right?" He grins a bit, shifting so that he's lying down on top of me with me still inside of him. "Kinda," he says, kissing my chin. "You mad about it?" "Not even a little bit," I say, shifting my face and asking for a kiss. He gives me what I want, planting his lips on mine insistently. I feel his hands slide up my arms until they get to my hands, and when he breaks the kiss, he focuses on untying me. Ten seconds later, the necktie is on the floor and I've got Stevie on his back while I'm kissing him deeply and easing myself back into him. He lets out a mewl against my lips, digging his nails into my back. They feel sharp, but I let him do what he wants. I let him hold on tight. I just focus on kissing him and fucking him, moving my hips in a steady fashion, giving him nearly every inch of my cock with each thrust, slowly making sweet love with and to my brother. I feel connected to him in every way right now, loving the way he wraps his legs around my waist and leans up to continue kissing me even when I'm about to pull away for air. We're in each other, for each other. I reach under Stevie's now-sweaty body and pull his hips back a little -- and immediately, he gasps, breaking the kiss and making a "Hnnng!" sound before he does his best to keep quiet. I grin, knowing I'm hitting that sweet spot just right every time I thrust. "You feel that?" I murmur. "Yes," he says, eyes shut tight, nodding repeatedly. "Yes." I bet I could make him cum hands-free again. That's one of my favorite ways of getting Stevie off. I focus on my movements, making sure I keep working at the right angle, watching his face intently. I love every twitch in his mouth, the way his cheeks flush, how tightly he squints behind those round glasses of his. "I'm gonna cum," he pants after a minute. "I'm gonna fucking cum." I bite my lip, pumping my hips into him just a little bit harder. "You gonna cum for me?" "Yes!" he whines. Fuck, there's such a cutely boyish edge to his voice when he gets like this, when he's feeling *really* good. It makes my dick ache. "C'mon, lil bro," I whisper. "Give me what I want." Stevie starts to whimper a little louder, and right before his orgasm hits him, he grabs one of my hands and holds it over his mouth with both of his hands. Finally, I feel him trembling. He moans against my palm as loudly as he needs to be since it's muffled by my hand. His hips twitch upwards as his cock spurts out a thick little load between us, feeling warm and dripping down his sides onto the bed. Feeling and seeing him cum sends a surge of pleasure through me, and I lick my lips. My turn. I fuck him harder, keeping my hand on his mouth mostly because he won't let go. He just shifts his head so that he's taking a few of my fingers past his lips, sucking on them hungrily -- and that does me in. I grunt, putting my face close to his as I start to fill him up with my load. I only give him sharp thrusts each time I twitch until finally, my balls are empty. I catch my breath, laughing softly and sliding my fingers out of his mouth. He looks up at me with a sleepy grin, clearly satisfied. I lean down and kiss his forehead affectionately before I start to move off of him -- but he stops me. "No no no, wait!" he says, digging his heels into my ass. "What?" I ask, looking down. "Don't take it out yet," he says, wrapping his arms around me. I roll my eyes. "So, what, I'm just supposed to stay like this?" "I wouldn't mind," he says, clearly trying to look cute and convince me. But I'm not comfortable putting all my weight on him. "I'm not gonna lay on top of you." "Then I'll lie on top of *you*. Roll over," he says. "And don't pull out." "You're so needy," I mutter, but he just grins a bit, knowing I'll give in. I wrap an arm under him to keep our bodies close, digging my hips into his ass as we slowly roll over. We manage to stay linked as I rest on my back with Stevie on top of me. I sigh loudly, relaxing. "There." "Thanks," he says, resting his head on my chest. He kisses between my pecs before we both lie there in silence, one of my hands slowly stroking his back and the other holding onto his hip. I look up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular. That's been the vibe lately. Sex with Stevie puts all my stressors in the background, so right now, I have nothing to ruminate over. I'm just soaking in the feeling of good sex and good love. But Stevie's wheels are obviously turning. "Are you nervous?" Stevie asks me after a while. "Nervous?" "About moving." "Not really," I say, surprising myself. Then again, I've given this lots of thought. I spend entire shifts at work thinking about everything that could or will happen in the near future, and somewhere along the line, I realized there's no need to worry. We just have to dive in. Everyone says that's what being "young and dumb" is all about, but that's not the case here. This is about reaching for what we want and grabbing it by the fucking balls. "Are you?" "A little," Stevie says softly, his finger lightly circling my nipple. "But... I don't know. I think we'll be okay... Right?" I smile gently to myself, lifting my left hand and glancing at Stevie's makeshift ring on my finger. A perfect fit. "Right," I say reassuringly before kissing the top of his head. Better than okay, I'd say. We'll have each other, and as far as I'm concerned, no matter where we end up, that's all we'll really need.