Date: Sat, 9 Dec 2023 17:05:32 +0800 From: Jay Spear Subject: Giving Thanks For My Brother - Part 8 My stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults. This story deals with relationships among male family members. If that fantasy bothers you, stop reading. If you like this story, check out my Patreon! Lots more content there: patreon.com/jayspearstories The Nifty Archive has been a fantastic resource to all of us! Please consider supporting them with a donation: https://donate.nifty.org/. Giving Thanks For My Brother - Part 8 By Jay Spear "It's junk, but it's better than nothing." Steve fed some dollar bills into the breakroom vending machine and punched in the number for ramen packets. It was late and we'd worked well past dinnertime again. "No arguments," he continued. "I'm getting one for you too. Now go put on the electric kettle. Never microwave these. They come out weird." I wondered how a man in $400 dress shirts could bear to eat these salty, cheap noodles at all, let alone have a strong preference for their preparation. But Steve was always a surprising mix of things: brilliant, nerdy, handsome, aloof, awkward, domineering, and caring all at once. "Yeah, my mother didn't know what to do with me either," he explained once when I complained to him about it. "Are you going to pour that?" he asked. "What?" I snapped out of my reverie and looked up. Steve was staring. "It's done. Full boil. It clicked off a couple minutes ago." "Sorry. I'm a little tired and distracted." Steve stepped in front of me and took the kettle himself. "Go sit down then. I'll handle this." I went to the table, stopping to grab spoons and forks and a handful of napkins along the way. I set them up at "our places." We'd done this breakroom dinner a few times this month. We had the routine down. Steve came to the table with steaming bowls. He took broke up the blocks of noodle and stirred in the seasoning. We glowed like ghosts in the industrial fluorescent lighting. Even so, I could lose myself in his cheekbones and dark brown eyes. "Why so tired today, Kevin? We were done early last night, both out by 8:00." "I haven't been sleeping well. Not since I, I..." I broke down and started to cry. I hadn't meant to, but it just happened. I tried to continue, punctuating my words with intermittent sobs. "My boyfriend broke up with me. I had to move out." "I thought you lived with your brother." "Yeah, I did. But my boyfriend and I also broke up at the same time, so I really don't have a place to go." I sniffled and searched my pocket for a Kleenex. "I've been couching surfing with friends, but it's noisy and uncomfortable and I'm not sleeping well." "I'm sorry to hear that. That sounds hard." "Maybe it would be manageable, if I weren't dealing with so much--" I stopped a second, my chest heaving. "But it's a lot to lose your home and your boyfriend and even your whole body. Just everything, all at once." "What do you mean `your body'? Are you sick?" "Uh. Kind of. Sometimes. I'm...pregnant." I'd have to go public with this news eventually--I was starting to show. Might as well try it out now. "You are??" I nodded glumly. "I did start to wonder about that gut of yours. Shame to see a pretty guy like you lose his body so young." "Asshole!" I smacked his arm. "I'm kidding. I'm glad you told me. But now that I know, how the hell did it happen? There aren't many guys getting pregnant these days, it's still so early in the science...." His brow furrowed while I explained to him that I had taken pills from the lab. I was sorry about that, but seeing my brother bring a baby into the world had irrationally made me want a family of my own. I took the pills without thinking. Then I was pregnant, and no one was happy about it, and the fighting started, and here we were. Steve listened patiently to the whole thing and then he spoke. "Well, I'm pissed that you were dishonest. And that you stole from the lab. I should fire you for that." The color drained from my face. He was right, but I hadn't let myself think that far ahead. Not when I was getting myself into this mess. "But I won't." Steve took my hand in his. "How could I do that you? And to...my child?" He asked with intention, seeking confirmation. I blinked several times but I kept my mouth shut. He thought...of course he thought it was his. That's how he was making sense of it all. I got pregnant by another man, so my boyfriend dumped me. And Steve, in his unquestioned arrogance, assumed that other man was him. "I'm a little shocked by it all," he continued, "but my first thought is, `the Wu family sperm have always been too strong for their own good.' Damn, it's like PrEP changed everything and we all threw away our condoms. But now that's going to change back once our pill hits the market and this all becomes way too easy." Steve paused to think a moment and then shook his head. "Anyway, that's not the main thing. The third thing I'm thinking, that probably should have been the first thing, is that I'm going to be a father. With you. And that means I should help. You can come stay with me for a little while. I have an extra room. You'll be more comfortable there." Half of what Steve said was self-obsessed and self-serving, but the important part was that he wanted to help. And I needed help. So I swallowed any concerns about getting deeper into my lies. I squeezed his hand and said "thank you." Steve continued. "But honestly, I'm glad you used our pills and that you didn't take up with one of our competitors. And there's a part of me that's kind of thrilled about this. Like, I have full access to you, outside of the study. No questions are off limits. Maybe we run some extra tests on you. No IRB looking over our shoulders. Think how much richer the data will be with you as an unofficial research subject. First hand access." His eyes took on a faraway look. And I knew it wasn't really about me. *** I moved in a day later. Steve made up the home office/guest room for me. He moved out his books and boxes so there was space for my things. After the last few weeks as a nomad, it was nice to have a place to settle down. "Come and go as you want," Steve said, handing me a key. "It's your place now too. For as long as you need it." "Thanks." He stepped closer. "And, uh, even though you'll be sleeping in here, I hope you'll maybe come visit my room from time to time?" "I thought you wanted to avoid entanglements with anyone at work?" "Already messed that one up, didn't I?" He laughed and patted my belly. I put my hand on his and together we rubbed big lazy circles around the baby. "The" baby. With Steve I never called it "our" baby. Because in my heart I knew it was wasn't. Steve dropped his head toward mine until our foreheads were touching. He raised his thumb and traced the outline of my lips. For the first time in weeks, I wasn't shaking, I wasn't crying. Steve took me in his arms. I let myself go. *** I wouldn't say Steve and I were dating. But we operated as a couple, of sorts. We lived together, we were having a baby together. We fucked. It felt kind of good to let go and finally consummate the chemistry we'd long had between us. Until now we had kept it limited to a few furtive kisses and that one giant fuckup. We didn't walk around the place holding hands or anything. Most of our time at home was like our time together at the office. Polite talk, questions and answers, Steve's lists of directions and my attempts to follow them (for example, his complicated household recycling protocol was INSANE). But there were times that he would pause to say goodnight at my bedroom door and he'd linger there with a half-chub showing through his pants. Or we'd both reach for the garage door opener at same time and then lace up our fingers together. Or maybe we'd get into a fight over the morning news, like the time I dared to challenge Steve's statistic on government funding for science research. We argued and argued until we were both red, and then we exploded in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. Some of these moments would be just that--moments. But other times it tipped the other way. Our bodies came together; I ran my fingers through his hair; I kissed him softly or he kissed me hard; I grabbed his crotch; he grabbed my ass. I enjoyed the feeling of his cock. It was thinner than Ryan's, but a lot longer. I loved to stroke my hand up its length and the and back down, feeling each inch and marveling that it was possible for so many of those inches to fit inside me. Given its length, Steve's cock difficult to take down my throat, but it felt really nice punching its way up my ass. He nailed me in places I didn't know I had. Steve was an attentive lover and he fucked the same way he did everything else: with a kind of focused competition. He was goal oriented, always racing ahead and keeping a keen eye on his performance. This wasn't bad. Because he took so much pride in his "work," I benefited from its effects. My toes curled up as he hit me with moves I'd never felt from anyone before. It was really great, technically perfect sex. It could even be passionate. But even so, all of that is not the same thing as love. I missed what I had with Ryan. I wondered if I'd ever find that kind of love again. *** "How are you feeling?" Steve asked. "All right. Tired. Uncomfortable." Morning light streamed into the kitchen. Steve handed me a cup of coffee. "That's supposed to be normal at six months," he told me. "But I need to know if the discomfort is beyond normal. Few male bodies have ever been through this. We have to understand whether our meds are fully adapting you or not." "I've never been a pregnant woman, Steve," I responded bitterly. "So I can't tell you whether this is normal uncomfortable, or crazy uncomfortable, or oh-my-god-what-have-I-done uncomfortable." "I think you would know that last one. And you're not screaming into your coffee. So I'll cross it of the list." "Are you taking notes on me? Fuck you!" "Yes, Kevin." "I'm not a statistic. I'm having a baby." "You're both, kid. And I care about both." I took a swig of coffee and sighed. There was no changing him. I knew that by now. "But hey." He knelt down and put his hands on my thighs. He looked me in the eye. "Maybe I can do something to make you more comfortable?" Steve's dark eyes were warm and tender. He leaned in. I kissed back and I let myself go. I was too tired to be mad at him. He kissed my lips and worked his way down my neck, onto my torso, and all the way down to my dick below. He massaged it through the fabric. "Can I?" I nodded and Steve fished out my dick. He stroked and it immediately raised to attention. In general, my body felt foreign these days. So this kind of attention, this feeling of being seen as a sexual being, meant everything. Steve lowered his head and wrapped his lips around my cock. He tongued the circumference, getting everything wet and then sinking down the shaft. I squirmed as he held me in his mouth. He moved up and down. He licked and tickled and sucked my cock, keeping it varied and surprising and giving me a sophisticated, expert blowjob. I was always surprised by this. Steve was a take-charge top. That was identity in and out of the bedroom. But he was a real cocksucker too. You don't often get those two things in the same package. On some level, it was probably just another technical challenge for him. How could he be the best cocksucker? How could he be the most unusual, attentive top? Regardless, I was grateful for it. Now that my cock was good and slick, Steve added a hand below his mouth, making a great, long tunnel for my cock to push through. Heat rose up in my balls and spread through my entire pelvis. Every nerve ending was on fire. I wriggled with the delicious discomfort of being so aroused. "Steve, you've got me...I'm about to shoot." He paused long enough to tell me, "Do it, Kevin." And then he was swallowing my entire load, not missing a drop. Shit. The man is a handsome doctor *and* he swallows? Part of me felt like I hit the lottery. But another part of me knew something important was missing. This was sexy and comfortable, but it was not love. And moreover, it was built on a lie. Steve got up from the floor. He gave me a kiss. I tasted my cum on his lips. Steve gave my belly a pat and then he left to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. "Steve," I said. "Mmmm?" His attention had already wandered to his coffee and the emails on his phone. "I think I should move out." "What? Of course you can, if that's what you want. But why move? Isn't it an awkward time for that? When we're having a baby together? You can stay here until the baby comes if you want. At the very least." "Steve. What if the baby is not yours? Would you still think that?" "What?" "Please answer the question." "My answer depends on your answer." "I don't know if it's yours. It's possible. But it might not be. I kind of think not." "I assumed you and the boyfriend had stopped having sex when things were breaking up. Maybe that was dumb, but you let me believe it. You let me believe that it was mine." "I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry. Be sure." "I guess there are tests." "Damn right there are! I can't believe you haven't done that yet, if you're not sure. Look kid, you did a very adult thing choosing to get pregnant. You need to be as adult about the aftermath. That means dealing straight with people." "I know. You're right." "So get the test. And yes, you should move out. You probably should also transfer to another division at BioGarde." "But this is why I came to BioGarde! To do this kind of research. To learn from you. Don't punish me with a transfer." "Look, just be glad I'm not firing you for stealing the product and putting your health in danger. You've lied to me and broken trust. A couple of times now. Count your blessings it's not worse than this and move on." *** I did move on. I moved out too. My new apartment was shabby but it was what I could afford. I hated leaving Steve's place for this one, but Steve was well within his rights to ask it. I knew that. And I probably wouldn't have felt comfortable staying there anymore anyway. Especially not after the paternity test came back. "It's like there's only your DNA in here." "You sure? No Chinese?" "Definitely not. The test reads like you got yourself pregnant. Who's the father, your twin?" Pretty close, I thought. Pretty damn close. I sighed. End Part 8. Stay tuned for the conclusion in Part 9!