Date: Sat, 28 Jul 2007 00:16:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brian Connors <patriotspectre@yahoo.com>
Subject: Six Irish Brothers - Chapter 8: After the Storm

Six Irish Brothers -  Chapter 8: After the Storm

Story Codes: B/b, inc

Disclaimer and Acknowledgments:

The story you are about to read is true. These events happened and
though some details have been skewed slightly to obscure the identities
of the real persons involved, the events, relationships and substance of
the tale have not been altered. Much of the material in this story is
pornographic in nature, dealing with incest, teenage and preteen sex,
gay themes, and so forth. If you are under 18, or it is illegal in your
area to read this material, then stop now, and go Google something
wholesome.

Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me here. It's been a busy couple
weeks, but I think this chapter should be worth it!

-----

Chapter 8: After the Storm

Winter/Spring 1996


Even though Ben had assured us that he would "get used to it," Sean and
I didn't fool around for nearly a month. We didn't "decide" not to,
really, but, after what happened with Ben, there was some unspoken
meeting of the minds. We wanted to bring Ben into the family, and
anything that would possibly freak him out, or remind him of what he'd
endured...well, we could do without it for a while.

There were still plenty of hugs, cuddling on the sofa with a film, all
the normal moments of closeness that have always been a part of our
lives. And slowly, Ben was winning the battle against his insinct to
pull away whenever someone touched him. Walt and Adam helped with that
especially - at five and two, they were quite persistent when they
wanted a hug, or to sit in his lap, or be held. Nathan, too, made his
own connections with Benji, over football (both kinds) and The History
Channel. Eight years old and he was hooked on it. Every day, after our
schoolwork was finished, they'd both dash to the TV and start watching
some World War II show or another. Who knew that the Invasion of
Normandy could bring a family together? Heh.

It was a good time for family bonding - the Blizzard of '96 hit us in
full force, and there was a period where we didn't leave the house for
several days. Even Greg had to stay home from work. With all of us
there, it was crowded, it was noisy, but it was fun. I remember we
introduced Ben to "The Three Musketeers," and "Newsies," and a couple
dozen other films that now always bring back good memories. And the
snowball fights! Oh, dear God, they were so much fun. Never been
equaled. Ben had never seen so much snow, well, for that matter, none
of us had.

As for sex, for me at least, I contented myself with jerking off in the
shower in the morning, and if I could find a secluded place if the mood
struck later in the day (which it did, all the time). Ben made use of
the bathroom's privacy, too, as did Sean, who was also still dating
Sarah, off and on.

The mornings were cold then, and I usually hunkered down in my comforter
and blankets like a cocoon; sometimes, I couldn't even think of getting
out of bed until I absolutely had to. And some mornings, the desire to
stay warm warred with my pubescent need for release, and I quietly
jerked off in bed, while Sean showered and Ben slept. I loved watching
Ben sleep - the nightmares were coming with much less frequency, and he
almost always looked peaceful, and cute (to me at least). The crush I'd
had on him before I knew we were brothers had returned, and sometimes I
couldn't get him out of my mind. Watching him sleep, sometimes while I
wanked myself, others not; it felt like I was falling in love with him.

And then Sean would come out of the shower, and wink at me, knowing what
I'd been up to. I'd blush and smile, and watch him too, as he dressed.
Almost sixteen, he was already quite tall, nearly six feet, and he kept
himself in good shape. Unlike the fair amount of puppy fat that still
clung to my frame, Sean was lean and toned. Not six-pack abs or anything
dramatic, just nicely fit. His face was narrower than mine, more
defined, and he had the darker Welsh skin tone, inherited from our
father. His hair, like mine, was dark brown, almost black, but his eyes
were a softer brown. It was no wonder girls threw themselves at him
sometimes. I'd watch him get dressed, and inevitably, I'd get turned on
again. Half the time, I'd jerk off again before I got up myself.

That's how it went most mornings. Ben almost always slept longer than
either Sean or I, and he liked to be in bed earlier, too. I swear, most
nights, he'd sleep for twelve hours or more. But when he was awake, it
was go, go, go. Sometimes it seemed like he had more energy than Walt -
which was saying something, because Walt was the flippin' Energizer
bunny. Ben was always active - hiking here, biking there (when the
weather permitted of course), playing football. Hell, sometimes when we
fought, I think he started it out of sheer boredom. But even with all
that activity, all the roughhousing, he was still very timid about
expressing his emotions, or even asking for things that he wanted.

And what did he want? I was beginning to wonder. I'm not sure now when I
first noticed it, but it was after Sean's birthday, so late February or
early March, probably. Ben was stirring earlier, and I was starting to
catch him watching me, but pretending not to, as I watched Sean in the
mornings. And when I tossed off in bed, I sometimes heard the same
sounds coming from his bed. I wanted to go over and join him, but I had
no idea how he would react to that - and if jerking off under the covers
was what he wanted, of that's where "getting used to it" began, then I
would give it to him. After a week or so, he gave up the pretense of
"not watching me" and after Sean left, he'd make eye contact with me
(that was enough to turn me on right there!) and begin to wank. I'd join
in, under the blankets as he was, and we'd just watch each other. Ben
usually came first, his face set in a sly grin, always holding my gaze.
We never spoke during those moments, but eventually, it became a game, a
race, another way for us to one up each other. The prize seemed to be
who would get the shower first - like I said, usually it was Ben.

I didn't mind - it gave me the opportunity to watch him as he dressed,
too. We'd seen each other naked before, but this was different. Ever
since that night of revelations months before, he'd grown more
comfortable with letting me (and Sean) see him nude. He didn't flaunt
it, but if one of us was there when he was changing, it wasn't a big
deal. But now, having "broken the ice" with our masturbation games, he
seemed to be showing off to me a little, as he got in and out of the
shower. He knew I was watching him, and for my part, I certainly didn't
mind the view!

Ben was always shorter than me, with a slimmer build, almost wirey. His
face was round, framed by close-cropped brown hair, much lighter then
Sean's or mine, with pale blue eyes that looked like the ocean sky after
a storm. His complexion was between Sean's and mine, neither darkly
Welsh-looking, nor the classic pale Irishman. You probably wouldn't have
guessed we were brothers at all - he really took after his mother,
whereas Sean and I looked more like our father.

When he'd get out of bed after our game, I could usually see the cum
glistening on his bare belly. And then he'd drop his shorts, and there
was his softening cock and sparse pubes. Ben's dick held great
fascination for me. He was uncut, like our younger bros, and I kept
imagining what it would look like hard. And then he'd give me that shy
smile, partly embarrassed, partly amused, and walk into the bathroom.
The image of his bare arse fueled my ever-growing fantasies. By the time
he finished with his shower, I would usually be fully hard again, and
tried not to be bashful as I walked into the washroom myself.
The most we'd ever say would be "hey" or "nice" or "thanks" or just
giggle a little,  and we never touched each other. Not that I didn't
want to. Oh, God, did I want to. I ached to touch him, if only for a
second, to hold his hand, to hug him, put my hand on his shoulder,
anything. I had to hold myself back every day, because I knew he wasn't
ready, and the last thing I wanted to do was make him uncomfortable, or
make him think that *I* would force him into anything.

Sean knew, of course. He saw the way Ben and I would look at each other,
and asked me about it. I told him, and he was happy that Ben was opening
up. Not that he *expected* us to be having sex or anything - of course
not. It was just good to see Ben had grown to be that trustful. Sean
also made sure to give us plenty of time, and wait for me to get out of
the shower, if he needed to come back to the room.

And then, one rainy afternoon in April, it all changed. Ben and I were
on our way home, biking through the park, about a mile from home.  We
knew the way in our sleep, rain or shine, so we didn't think too much of
it when it began to rain. I enjoyed it, actually, but Ben wasn't happy
about getting soaked and rode on ahead.

I don't know how, but somehow, we lost the trail. Before I knew it, we
were on top of "Suicide Hill." All the kids called it that - almost 80
feet tall, all muddy and twisted with roots and branches - it was a lot
of fun trying to climb up from the creek bed, but the closer you got to
the top, the easier it was to fall and get seriously hurt, or worse,
hence the name.

And here we were, on top of it, heading straight for the cliff. I knew
where we were and called out for Ben to stop, but he was going too fast.
His momentum carried him right over the edge. I dove off my bike as I
heard him scream, and scrambled through the mud to the cliff. I had
never felt such fear until then, and only a handful of times since.

Looking down, I saw his bike first - it had fallen in heap, all four
stories down on the sandy bank by the stream. And then I saw Ben,
tangled in the branches about 20 feet below me. Relief washed over me -
he looked bad, but he was conscious, and calling my name.

"I'm right here, Benji," I shouted.

I'll never forget his next words: "Don't leave me, Tim."

"Hang on, mate, I'm coming!"

The rain was still pouring down as I started to descend, half-climbing,
half-sliding. More than once I thought I had hold of a solid root, only
to pull it out of the ground as I put my weight on it. I was caked with
mud and soaked to the bone by the time I reached him.

Ben looked even worse up close. Scratches and cuts all over his face,
his jeans were torn and I could see a bloody gash across his knee where
something had caught him on the way down. And he was whimpering, almost
crying, and he just kept saying, "don't leave me, don't leave me, don't
leave me."

"I'm not gonna leave you here, you big bonehead," I said, trying to
distract him with familiar insults. "Just hold still, and I'll figure
this out."

I gently touched his leg, and he winced, but I didn't think it was
broken. I tore off one of my sleeves, and wiped away the blood from his
knee. It was just a cut, not too deep, and it had stopped bleeding.
Looking around, I saw we weren't that far from the main climbing path up
the hill - it was just a water runoff trail or a deer run, but it was
good enough.

"Can you move both legs?" I asked him. He nodded. "Then swing around,
and grab my shoulders." He started to move, and one of the branches
snapped. "Careful, Ben, slow and steady wins the race, right?"

Ben nodded again, and managed to drag himself into a crouch, with his
hands on my shoulders. He winced again, and I knew something had to be
wrong with his leg, even if it wasn't broken. I pulled his arms around
me, like I was going to give him a piggy-back ride.

"Whatever happens, don't let go," I instructed, as I started to move. I
wanted to hold on to him myself, but I needed my hands to grab at rocks
and branches, the mud itself, anything to pull us along to the way down.

To this day, I'm not sure how we managed it, but we made it to the deer
run, which the rain almost turned into a mini-waterfall. It was cold,
and wet, and muddy, and by the time we slid to the bottom, we were
covered from head to foot.

"Well, that was fun," Ben quipped, his humour returned. And then he
sobered. "Thanks...for not leaving me."

"I could never leave you," I said. Then I gestured at his smashed up
bike, and looked back up at mine, which had fallen halfway down the hill
itself. "Looks like we've got a long, wet walk, pal."

Ben slipped his arms from my shoulders, and as soon as he put his weight
down on his right leg, he growled in pain. "That's not good," he said,
leaning against me.

I sighed. "Nothing for it then." Gesturing to my back, I turned around,
and knelt in the muck. "Up you go."

He put his arms around me again, and this time, I hooked mine around his
legs. As I struggled to my feet, and every step of the way home, I was
*very* glad that he was smaller than me.

It was a good quarter-mile to the road along the stream, and then eight
blocks back to our house. The rain never let up, and neither did Ben. He
cracked jokes the whole way back, making fun of himself, of me, anything
to help me keep putting one foot in front of the other. And when he ran
out of one-liners, we started singing old songs we knew from Belfast.
"I'll Tell Me Ma," "Crazy Mary," "Whiskey in the Jar" and the like. It
helped to pass the time, and actually made it kinda fun, in a very odd
way.

It was dusk by the time we made it home, and the rain was still coming
down. Sean was on the porch, and he saw us as we came over the hill. He
called for Greg and took off, running for us, Greg only a moment behind.

The look on their faces was priceless!  I can only imagine how we must
have looked - two 12 year old boys, piggy-backing through a rainstorm,
soaked to the skin, covered in mud, happily singing Amhran na Bhfiann
(the Irish anthem), stumbling our way home.

Sean lifted Ben off my shoulders and onto his, and I nearly crumpled
against Greg.

"What happened?" he asked, fully in "concerned stepdad" mode as we
hurried into the house.

"Oh, nothin," I said, laughing. "Benji just thought he was Elliot from
ET and tried to fly his bike off Suicide Hill!"

"DID NOT!" Ben giggled as he punched my shoulder.

"Ow!" I was laughing like a lunatic now, and Sean and Greg both thought
we were nutters. "It was an accident," I said when I finally regained
control, and then launched into the explanation.

Satisfied with our story, Greg looked over Ben's leg. By now, he was
able to stand without too much difficulty, and Greg determined that he'd
have one hell of a bruise, and maybe a sprain, but was otherwise okay.

We were both ordered to the shower, and Sean ushered us to our bathroom.
He ran the hot water, and helped us strip out of our sopping, ruined
clothes.

Instantly, I was worried that Ben would freak out, being naked like that
in front of Sean, but he took it in stride. When we were both ready,
Sean pointed to the shower. "In. Now."

I looked at Ben, offered to wait for him to go first, and was floored
when he said "Bugger that. Come on, then," and hopped in. I followed,
letting the hot water spray over me, shivering as the mud and the chill
washed away.

Sean chuckled, and left us alone, carrying our pile of clothes to the
laundry room.

And there I was, in the shower, with Ben. I was instantly more
self-conscious than I had expected him to be. For his part, he was just
washing and scrubbing, and didn't seem to care at all. I know it's not
that odd for brothers, especially little kids, to bathe together
sometimes, and Sean and I had done when we were little, but after all
that had happened to him, I hadn't expected Ben to be okay with it.

And then I heard him chuckle. "Maybe we should switch to cold," he said.

It was only then I realized I had a boner, and underneath all the mud, I
flushed crimson.

"I--I didn't mean-- oh, bloody hell," I said.

Ben just shrugged. "No biggie, Tim... well, you know what I mean."
And he laughed - but not horribly, not making fun of me, just at the
situation. I laughed with him, feeling a little less like wanting to
sink down the drain, and moved to stand beside him under the water
again. Ben smiled and splashed me. I splashed him back, and then ducked
under the spray to wash the mud from my hair. When I opened my eyes
again, he was looking at me, and I saw his own cock was starting to get
hard.

"Ben?"

He snapped out of it, and looked me in the eyes. "Tim... thanks."

"For what?"

"For not leaving me."

I started to tell him he'd already said that, but I didn't get the
chance as he closed the distance between us and gripped me in a strong
hug. I was paralized - I had no idea what to do. So I just wrapped my
arms around him, and kissed his forehead. "I told you, Benj. I'll never
leave you." I felt a surge of protectiveness, and I wondered if that's
how Sean felt all those times I'd turned to him for comfort.

Ben didn't say anything, but I could feel his breath against my chest.
That wasn't all I felt, either. His hard-on was poking against mine,
trapped between our bellies. I must have made some kind of sound,
because he pulled back, grinning sheepishly. He grabbed the soap, rubbed
it over his belly, and then held it out to me. I reached for it, but he
had another thought, and soaped me up himself, rubbing from my chest
down to my crotch. The movement wasn't sexual, really, but it still sent
an electric shock through me, and my dick twitched. Ben giggled again,
and set the soap down. He gently, timidly, rubbed his hands over my
chest and stomach. And then he pressed against me, and I moved with him,
sliding back under the water.

I don't know exactly what passed between us in those moments, but as the
soap and the mud washed away, so did whatever inhibitions we had, at
least for the moment. Looking into his eyes, I saw hope rising from
depths of pain, like the long night was coming to an end. And I'll never
know what he saw in mine, but it made him smile.

By then, the water was starting to cool again, so we pulled apart,
rinsed off and got out of the shower. As we dried off, I don't think we
ever broke eye contact. Ben was still shivering, and a little wobbly on
his injured leg, so I helped dry his back. And I must confess, I
couldn't help but cop a feel on his arse. I held my breath, thinking
he'd punch me, but he just smirked. When we finished, I helped Ben put
some peroxide and a band-aid on his cut knee.

Back in the bedroom, dry, but still cold, we stood for a moment in front
of the mirror, leaning against each other, side by side. Ben's compact
frame stood in stark contrast to my taller, fuller one. I looked down at
our cocks, half-hard and rising. Fighting the urge to touch Ben's, I
just watched as it grew, his foreskin starting to slide back. I can't
describe the overwhelming desire I had to suck him right then and there,
but I was totally afraid of crossing the line and breaking the
connection we had right then. So instead, sensing it would be alright, I
slipped my arm around his shoulders, and hugged him. Ben just smiled
again, and then we pulled apart.

We both put our pajamas on, watching each other, and then I headed for
the ladder to my bed. We had bunk beds now. Greg had gotten them for us
in February when it became clear that Ben's addition to Sean's and my
room was permanent. I was about to climb the ladder when Ben touched my
shoulder.

"Uh, we should sleep together," he said, and then cleared his throat.
"I, uh, mean... it would be warmer."

Two million butterflies suddenly took to flying through my stomach, but
I couldn't fault his logic. "Okay," I squeaked. "Sounds good to me."
And so we climbed in his bed and pulled the covers up. Ben snuggled
against me, and clutched my hand. I wrapped my arms around him.

"I like this," he said.

"Me, too. It's warm."

We snuggled closer, and I spooned against his back. I was so horny I
could have cum right then and there. Thankfully, I didn't. I just held
on to him, listening to him breathe. Slowly we warmed up, and drifted
off to sleep.

I woke when Sean came in a couple hours later. He smiled at me and
pulled the covers up around us more before he turned out the light and
went to bed.

Drifting off again, I dreamed of snow and rain, and Ben and Sean. I
don't remember most of it, but I know it was the nicest dream I'd had in
a long time, and it probably would have been a wet one if I hadn't felt
a strange pressure on my side. Slowly, through the fog, I woke up groggy
and realized it was Ben, grinding against me. He had turned on his side,
and was humping against me. I could feel his hard little dick sliding
against my pajamas. I thought he must have been having one hell of a
good dream.

But then I realized his pajama bottoms were around his ankles. I looked
over at him, in the glow of the nitelight, and saw his eyes were open.

"M'horny, mate," was all he said when he saw me.

My hand went straight to my dick, rubbing through the flannel. Then I
felt Ben reach through my fly and grasp my raging hard-on.

"Benji...you don't have to..."

"I know," was all he said.

One tug, two, three. Four, and I was gone, cum spilling over my crotch
and Ben's hand. And then I felt him buck against my leg, and he
shuddered and groaned softly as he came. I didn't have time to even
think about the stains it would leave on my pajamas before I heard
another groan...from Sean's bed.

I whirled to look at him, and there he was, dick in hand, cumming hard.
I looked back at Benji. He'd noticed Sean too, grinning ear to ear.

"Nice show, guys," Sean said. "Took you long enough!"

My head was still spinning, but Ben laughed and threw a pillow at him,
which was tossed right back. "When you gotta, you gotta," he said.

"Well, you did...big time." Sean pulled his covers back up and rolled
over on his side. "I love you. Now, go to sleep, twerps."

"Love you, too," I said, reflexively. Stroking Ben's hair, I kissed his
forehead and said, "You know that, right?"

"Mm-hmmm," he replied, snuggling against me once more. "Love you,
fellas."

And with that, feeling warm, satisfied and loved, I cuddled Ben and the
three of us slept peacefully 'til morning.

-----

For those of you wondering if Ben ever got in on the action with me and
Sean, there you have it, or at least, the start of it.

And no, this isn't the last chapter. Things are far from over. There's a
lot left I want to tell you, both sexual and not, and ten years of
events to cover. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can.

If you'd like to respond, email me at patriotspectre@yahoo.com.

Cheers,
Tim