Date: Wed, 31 Mar 2021 19:26:28 +0000 (UTC)
From: "nilcono@yahoo.com" <nilcono@yahoo.com>
Subject: Visiting My Brother at College 11

I wake up with images of Dad still in my mind, and an achingly hard
erection, the weirdest boner of my life. I feel an equally stiff erection
pressed against my ass and grind back against it, groaning and gripping my
own cock through my boxers, imagining it's Dad. Fuck, this is messed
up. It's one thing to acknowledge he's good looking, it's another to
actually fantasize about him. I mean, I clearly don't mind fucking family
members, but it's different with Reed. He's close to my age, he's single,
and if he weren't my brother I would have always found him hot. If I'm
really honest with myself, maybe I always did. I've never been into older
guys, though, much less my own married father.

I feel hot breath across the back of my neck and strong arms squeezing
tighter around me, and I groan. "Mm, good morning," Toby whispers, killing
my fantasy. "This is a nice way to wake up." He kisses my neck and slides a
hand down my belly and into my boxers, fiddling with the trimmed pubes at
the base of my dick.

I roll over in his arms to face him and he grins sleepily at me. He looks
softer in the morning, more sweet and innocent. Of course I already know
that he's sweet, but he usually has this sexy edge, a flirtatious swagger,
whereas right now, with his messy hair and half-closed eyes, he seems less
sexy and more cuddly.

He kisses me, long and gentle, resting his hand on my cheek, before
speaking again. "What time is it?"

I grope for my phone on the nightstand behind me and yank it from its
charger. "8:24," I say, dropping it on the bed between us.

"Fuck," he groans, rolling onto his back. "I'm late for my morning run."

"You have a schedule for your runs?" I laugh. I know Toby's intense about
his fitness, but man, that's a bit much. And I'd really much rather make
him sweat in another way right now.

"7 AM on weekdays, 8 AM on weekends," he sighs. "Have to make it a routine
or it's too easy to skip." He turns his head to the side and gives me a
pouty look. "Come with me? I'll cook breakfast when we get back."

"Umm, run with you?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow. Like, I've thought that I
should exercise more, get more fit like Toby, or Reed... or Dad. But
"should" and "will" are a long way apart and going for a run first thing in
the morning sounds like insanity to me. "I'll just slow you down."

"I don't care, I just want my boyfriend's company," he grins and reaches
out to take my hand. And okay, he's too fucking cute, rubbing his thumb on
my palm and giving me that dopy smile, so I have to give in.

I regret it almost immediately. We've probably made it less than half a
mile before I'm panting and sweating, while Toby jogs along next to me
talking easily. He's giving me encouragement, talking about how good it
will feel when we're done, but it annoys me that he has the breath to say
anything while I can just nod along.

We take a long loop around the pathetic little "downtown," just a few
square blocks of stores and restaurants, plus an outdoor shopping mall,
with a border of strip malls and big box stores, before skirting my
neighborhood and going through the park by my school. My legs feel
half-paralyzed by the time we make it back to the house, and Toby still has
a spring in his step and a smile on his face. I suspect he would have gone
a lot farther without me.

Once inside, I collapse into a chair in the kitchen while Toby starts
moving around gathering things for breakfast. "I often had to get my sister
ready for school, so breakfast is like the only meal I can cook, but I'm
pretty good at it," he explains as he finds ingredients and sets a pan on
the stove.

"You're nuts," I pant, staring at him. "How can you run... like that every
day?"

"Don't pretend you don't like the results," he says, pulling up his shirt
to show off his perfect abs and winking at me. "Getting started may be
tough, but stick with it and today's run will be easy before long."

Dad happens to walk in while Toby has his shirt pulled up and his eyes zero
in on Toby's abs also, his step faltering for a barely noticeable moment.
"Good morning, boys," he says.

"Hey Dad," I say, still a little out of breath.

He finally looks at me and his eyes widen. "Jesus, Devin, are you okay?" He
asks, sounding alarmed.

"We've just been out for a run, Gav," Toby laughs, letting his shirt drop.
"Dev's a little worn out. Nothing a good breakfast won't fix."

"Okay, whatever, I know I'm out of shape," I huff.

"Aww, sweetie, I still think you're hot," Toby grins and blows me a kiss
before turning back to my dad. "Do you want an omelette, Gav?"

"Sure, that sounds great, Toby," Dad says, looking back and forth between
the two of us and moving to the coffee maker to start a pot. "Not
boyfriends, huh?"

I feel myself blush, and mutter, "That may have changed last night."

"I finally popped the question and made Dev an honest man," Toby says while
slicing up some veggies.

"That's great," Dad says, turning his back to the coffee maker as it starts
to run, and propping himself up against the counter. He's wearing sweats
and a t-shirt as usual, but the way he has his arms spread to grip the
counter behind him makes the shirt stretch across his chest, and pushes his
crotch out. There's nothing really sexual about it, but after last night I
find myself staring at his bulge. I pull my eyes away to see him smiling
strangely at me. "My boys have grown up so fast. Before I know it I'll have
grandkids crawling everywhere."

"Don't worry," Toby laughs, cracking eggs into a bowl. "I haven't knocked
him up yet. You're too young to be a grandfather."

"I reserve the right to eat pickles with peanut butter anyway," I say,
prompting them both to grimace and Toby to fake gagging.

"Your mom ate practically nothing but pickles while she was pregnant with
you," Dad says. "I'll assume that explains your weirdness."

Toby laughs and I cross my arms. "You're not supposed to call your son
weird," I say.

"Sorry, sorry. Queer is the preferred term these days, right?" Dad grins,
and Toby cracks up.

"Not cool," I chuckle, shaking my head.

Toby serves up three omelettes with toast a few minutes later, and even
slides two pieces of bacon onto my plate, kissing me on the cheek before
sitting down. God, this guy is too much. I'm sure I'm smiling like a moron,
but I also feel a bit insecure. Inadequate.

Toby and Dad chat happily over breakfast, both cheerful, and fit, and...
normal. Whereas I'm too worn out to do much other than eat and grunt, too
out of shape to keep up with my boyfriend, and such a freak that not only
do I fuck my brother, I've started ogling my dad too. I feel my mood
starting to sink, and I offer to clean the dishes, standing up and
practically running away with the dirty plates.

I'm washing the pan Toby cooked the omelettes in when he wraps his arms
around me from behind, propping his chin on my shoulder and kissing my
cheek.

"I need a shower before I go," he murmurs. "Want to join me?"

And the thought of getting wet and soapy with Toby, and the fun places it
could lead, should excite me, but my mood was already weird, and now I'm
thinking about my last morning showering with Reed, and it just makes my
stomach clench. I shake my head.

"Hmm?" Toby nuzzles into my jaw. "Are you sure? Are you feeling okay?"

I force myself to smile as I turn my head to kiss him. "Yeah," I say. "Just
a little tired. You go ahead."

He looks at me for a moment with his eyebrows scrunched together before he
sighs and says, "Okay." He kisses me again before padding off in the
direction of the bathroom, and I hear the shower start as I finish up
washing the dishes.

Then I just stand there over the sink. Toby is my boyfriend now. I made my
decision last night. I chose to embrace this, to let him in, and I was
happy about it. Seriously happy. I told myself I wasn't going to have these
insecurities anymore. Maybe I don't know what I'm doing with Reed, but it
doesn't need to get in the way of what I'm doing with Toby. I just wish
that sounded more convincing, even in my head.

And okay, yeah, maybe I'm not as fit as Toby, but people still seem to
think I look good. Toby included. And frankly, Toby's kinda weirdly
obsessed with his diet and his workouts, so it's stupid to compare myself
to him. So why am I even worried about that?

My mind flashes back to Toby and Dad standing close in the kitchen last
night, the way they talked so easily at dinner and at breakfast, the way my
Dad stared at Toby's abs when he walked in and how Toby squeezed Dad's
biceps last night.

Am I jealous? Fuck. I think I am. I'm not sure of which one, though.

I shake my head and spin away from the sink, and walk straight into Dad, my
chest colliding with his.

"Whoa kid," he says, gripping my shoulders and pushing me back a foot. I
feel an absurd twinge of hurt that he's not holding me close to him, but I
shake it off.

"Sorry," I say. "I was a little lost in thought."

"No problem," Dad says, still resting one hand on my shoulder. "I shouldn't
have snuck up on you. I just wanted to say I'm proud of you. You've really
grown up to be an amazing young man, and I know we don't talk about this
sort of thing that much, but I'm so happy you've found a boyfriend and that
you feel comfortable introducing him to me."

I blush and duck my head. "Thanks," I mutter, and feel his hand squeeze. "I
mean, it's no big deal."

Dad chuckles. "Maybe not," he says. "But when you first came out to us, I
was so scared for you." I look up and meet his eyes, which are crinkled at
the corners in a soft smile. "I know things have changed since I was your
age, but I was afraid life, and especially love, would be harder for you
than they should be. So I'm just so relieved, and again, so proud, to see
you living fearlessly like any other teen."

I don't know what to say to that, and I tear up a little, but Dad doesn't
seem to expect an answer, he just pulls me into a hug, and I'm back where I
wanted to be before, our bodies aligned, the stubble on his jaw brushing
the side of my face. God, it feels good to have him hold me like this. I
know we haven't been as close since I came out, and maybe that's my fault,
maybe I'm the one who made my sexuality a barrier between us, but I've
always craved his love and approval, and getting it is like basking in
sunlight.

But I also love the feel of his body, the heat and firm muscles, the smell
of him, the soft but noticeable lump against my hip. I force myself to pull
away from him before I react inappropriately, taking a step back and wiping
my eyes on my wrist. "Thanks, Dad," I sniff. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course, kid," he grins at me, brushing my cheek with a knuckle. "But
it's still nice to hear. And I love you too, no matter what."

I nod, smiling, although a part of me wonders how unconditional his love
really is. If he knew what I've done with Reed, or the thoughts that have
been in my head this morning... Well, I hope I never have to find out.

I hear a throat clearing and turn to see Toby standing in the doorway,
smiling sheepishly. He's wearing a new t-shirt and tight jeans, with his
backpack over one shoulder, and his hair is damp, falling limp across his
forehead without its usual curl. "Hey, hope I'm not interrupting anything,"
he says. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"No no," Dad chuckles, patting me on the shoulder one more time. "Just a
sappy family moment. It was great having you here, Toby."

"It was great being here, thanks for having me, Gavin," Toby grins. "Devin,
will you walk me to the door?"

"Yeah, of course," I say without thinking or moving, still lost in my
moment with Dad. "Oh," I say when I actually register what's going on.
"Yeah."

Toby walks slowly next to me to the entryway, curling his pinky around my
own until he has to let go to put his shoes on. I stand there dumbly while
he does so, and when he's finished he steps right up to me and lays his
hands on my hips, our noses nearly touching.

"Last night was incredible," he whispers, "and I'm totally going to miss
you. I'm gonna text you so much, and visit again as soon as I can, and you
should come up again to see me too."

"Yeah," I say. "I'd like that." Although the thought of visiting Toby
instead of Reed feels somehow... wrong.

He closes the gap and kisses me deeply, his tongue probing my mouth and
dancing with my own. I shut my eyes and hum, giving back as much as I'm
getting. Too soon, though, his lips are gone and I open my eyes to meet
his.

"Bye, Dev," he breathes. "Boyfriend." He smirks.

And then he's gone. I watch him from the door as he walks to his car, and
smile when he looks back to wink at me, and I keep standing there for a
minute after he's driven off. Boyfriend. Toby's my boyfriend. It still
feels weird, but mostly in a good way.

The rest of the day passes lazily. I feel like I'm in a bit of a haze. I
finished my homework on Friday, so I read in bed for a bit. I jack off
imagining being fucked by a guy whose face keeps shifting between Toby,
Reed, Dad, and occasionally Ben or Ryan. At night I play games online with
my friends, who are all excited to hear Toby and I are "official," even
Ben, surprisingly, before collapsing into bed.

It's not until I'm lying in bed that the guilt hits me again. I have a
boyfriend, my Dad is proud of me, I have good friends, and it's all
bullshit. If they knew the truth about me, none of them would want anything
to do with me. I feel terrible, and the worst part is that even knowing how
messed up it is, I just wish Reed were here to hold me.

He calls me Monday afternoon right after I get home from school, as I'm
walking into my room.

"Hey," I answer, already smiling as I sit on the edge of my bed looking at
a picture of him on my wall.

"Toby's your boyfriend?" He asks immediately, and my smile falls
away. Shit.

"Yeah," I say slowly.

"I didn't even know you were seeing him this weekend."

"I didn't think it mattered," I mumble. "What we have is separate, right?"
I can't even make that sound sincere. I know it's not really separate, that
it can never really be separate. But when we're talking or together, I just
want to keep living in a fantasy world where Reed is my boyfriend, and not
my dirty secret.

"Were you even going to tell me?" He asks, and sighs angrily. "I had to
fucking hear it from him at the same time as everyone else."

"Of course I was going to tell you," I insist. "Eventually..."

"Whatever," he grunts. "It's fine. You're not the only one who can fuck
other people. I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Reed," I start, but he's already hung up. Damnit. He's just trying to make
me jealous. I know that, but it doesn't stop it from hurting. And it
doesn't help knowing that he's trying to hurt me because he's jealous too,
because despite what he's said before, he feels the same way I do. It still
fucking hurts in a way that only he can make me feel.

It doesn't stop hurting, either. Toby texts me all the time, like he
promised, even sending some tantalizing not-quite-nude pictures which I
warn him I can't reciprocate, and we talk every night, but I feel like I'm
in a fight with my boyfriend even while I'm laughing with my real
boyfriend.

On Wednesday Reed changes his Facebook status to "In a relationship" with
Jess, and I punch my wall, cracking the paint and scraping my knuckles. I
decide to go for a run without anyone forcing me to, because I don't know
what else to do and I can't stand still. In a way, I feel bad for Jess. Oh,
I'm pissed that she's probably sleeping with Reed, but I know that he's
only dating her to get back at me, and that's not fair. I may not have been
totally honest with Toby, but at least I'm trying to have a real
relationship with him, and not just using him.

On Thursday night, around one in the morning, he sends me a video file. I
open it up to see a view of a cock fucking into a woman from behind. It's
dark, and short, and there are no faces, but I recognize that cock, and the
scar on his stomach. I delete the video, and text him back, "Fuck you. I
never TRIED to hurt you." He doesn't respond.

I don't sleep much that night, and I'm groggy Friday morning. When I get to
lunch everyone looks concerned, so I must look like shit. Ben asks what's
up, and I just say I don't feel great. He scoots closer to me and presses
his knee to mine.

"Well cheer the fuck up," Geoff says. "It's Halloween and you know what
that means."

I groan. Every year Geoff has a big Halloween party. His parents are kind
of loaded and rarely around, so he's usually the host for parties. They're
High School parties so they're not super crazy, but they're still more than
I'm in the mood for. I've known this was coming, Erica made us all pick out
costumes a month ago, but somehow it slipped my mind.

"Do we have to?" I plead, giving him my best kicked puppy look.

"Yes, we have to," Geoff scoffs. "There's like at least 50 people coming
and I scored a case of tequila and two kegs."

"Plus you're gonna look super cute in your costume," Erica grins. I flip
her off. Erica wanted us all to match a theme, so Erica is going as Arwen,
in a beautiful velvet dress with a tiara. Geoff, of course, is Aragorn,
with badass leather armor. Ben is Legolas, with a leather harness that
looks super hot on him and a cape. And me? I'm fucking Gandalf. Fake beard
and all.

The whole day sucks. Hell, the whole week has sucked, and by Friday night
I'm in an even worse mood. Toby sends me a picture of himself dressed as a
pirate, but I can see it was taken in Jess's apartment, and I see Reed in
the background, looking hot in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts with a lei
around his neck, putting me in an even worse mood.

Fuck this. All of it. It's ridiculous. Toby is my boyfriend, and I'm
supposed to be happy about that, but Reed was able to so easily strip that
away and leave me with my fucked up reality. The reality that there's no
contest or comparison, that I would always choose him. I fucking hate him
for it.

I've downed half a pint of vodka I had stashed in my room before I even get
to Geoff's house. It's not a long walk, but it's in a very different
neighborhood, full of huge houses with gates and long driveways, buildings
with "east wings" and guest houses. Geoff's place is fairly modest for the
area, but still huge and opulent, three sprawling stories with a pool, pool
house, and detached sauna.

I ditch my wig, fake beard, and staff in the bushes by the front door, so
I'm just wearing a white robe over some shorts, and head in. The place is
surprisingly crowded. These parties are usually pretty lame, but there are
maybe thirty people in the living room and I can hear more in the dining
room and kitchen, plus some yelling from the back patio.

Ben spots me coming in and walks over. He looks really hot, even with his
silly Legolas wig. He's not wearing a shirt under his leather harness and
his muscles look delicious. "Uh, hey," he says, raising an eyebrow.
"Ditching the theme? Erica's gonna be pissed."

"I looked like a hobo," I say, smiling dopily and running a hand through my
hair, posing a little. "I want to look hot."

"Sure," Ben laughs. "Have you already been drinking?"

"Just a little. Not much. Come on, let's go to the kitchen, I need another
drink." I grab his arm and pull him with me, maybe enjoying the feel of his
bicep under my hand a little too much, but I'm not feeling much like
denying myself tonight.

He laughs and lets me drag him, but pulls me to a stop before we actually
turn into the kitchen. "Wait, wait," he says, his face getting serious.
"Umm, you should know, Ryan's here."

"Oh," I say.

"Yeah, I guess he's back from school for the weekend and found out about
the party..." Ben rubs the back of his neck.

Ryan and I had a weird relationship. We were together, sort of, for five
months, and during that time we were exclusive. Like, we never had a talk
that we couldn't see other people, but neither of us did. But we were only
together in his bedroom or mine, anywhere else and we had to act like we
hardly knew each other. To our parents I was just a guy who helped him with
chemistry sometimes, though my mom knew it was more than that. So we
weren't really a couple. He wasn't my boyfriend. But, it was more than just
sex. At least when we were alone. And I'll admit, I wanted it to be more.

So I'm not sure what it's going to be like to see him again. I haven't
really thought about it. He left for college almost immediately after
graduation because his scholarship required him to attend a basketball camp
over the Summer, and we never really said goodbye, but I also never
pictured him coming back.

And then I do see him. He's standing in the kitchen talking to Geoff and
some other people, holding a cup of beer in his hand. He's wearing some
generic murder victim costume, with fake blood, but he looks... good. He
was always my type, I had lusted after him for months before he surprised
me by inviting me over to his place and making out with me. He's tall, like
really tall, and fit, and he has this light strawberry-blonde hair which is
actually paler than his pink, sun-kissed complexion. Honestly it looks a
little weird, his eyebrows look like someone took an eraser to them, but it
works for him. And he has a cute smile.

He sees me too, and meets my eyes for just a moment, before looking away as
if I'm no one. Just like always. But he does it again a second later, his
eyes flickering to mine for another instant.

I know what it's like to see him again now. It pisses me off. I was never
good enough for him, I was his dirty secret, and I'm fucking sick of that.

"Ryyyan," I say flirtatiously, walking over and pulling myself up on the
counter between him and Geoff, my legs dangling in front of me as I grin up
at him. "Have you missed me?" I ask, brushing his leg with my foot.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Buchanan." He steps away and glares
at me before nodding to Geoff. "I'll see you later, Antonov."

Geoff raises an eyebrow at me as Ryan walks off, disappearing into the
crowd in the living room. "The fuck was that about?"

I reach for a bottle of tequila behind him and pull it to me. "I'm just
sick of his shit," I say, taking a swig. "I wanna have fun tonight."

"Oookay..." Geoff says skeptically as I take another swig.

Ben walks up with two beers as I'm drinking and takes the bottle from my
hand, replacing it with the beer. "Take it easy," he says with a slight
frown. "Pace yourself."

I'm staring at a little wrinkle at the corner of Ben's mouth when the song
changes in the living room and I jump down from the counter, spilling my
beer a little and grabbing him by the arm again. "Gnarls Barkley!" I
yell. "Let's go dance!"

Ben groans but follows me into the crowd of people.

I don't really dance unless I've been drinking. It's not because I don't
like dancing, I actually love it, it's because I think too much, and
dancing isn't about thinking, it's about feeling. Letting go and feeling
the music with your whole body. When I'm sober I just can't do that, I
worry too much about how I'm moving my hands, or I fixate on the people
around me, but right now I'm ready to forget everything and throw myself
into the music. So I do.

Ben's a bad dancer. Like super bad, just sort of awkwardly shuffling in
place and looking around, but it's sort of adorable, especially the way his
cheeks are burning red. And it's a bad idea, but it's not like I haven't
done it before, so I go a little over the top teasing him. I put my back to
him and gyrate my hips, pushing my ass toward him, grinding a little
against his leg. I brush his arm and his back as I dance my way around him,
treating him almost like a stripper pole, while he just shuffles there,
shaking his head and laughing.

Then a faster song comes on and I start bouncing, forgetting I've got a
beer in my hand, and a little splashes out onto Ben, a few drops on the
exposed skin of his chest. I can't help it, I don't want to help it, and
I've already decided not to care about anything tonight, and he's so
hot... I lean in and lick the beer from him, sliding my tongue up to his
clavicle, tasting the salt of his skin far more than the beer.

When I pull back he just grins, rolls his eyes, and says, "You're
ridiculous."

I force a laugh too, but fuck. I can practically throw myself at him and
get the same reaction as a bad pun. It's fine, whatever, Ben doesn't want
me but I already knew that, and tonight I don't give a fuck. But I'm
already semi-hard just from tasting him and I FEEL ridiculous, so I shake
my head, still smiling, and say, "gotta piss," brushing past him to get off
the dancefloor.

I don't go to the bathroom, though. I walk through the kitchen and grab the
tequila I was drinking earlier, winking at Geoff and holding a finger to my
lips, before leaving through the backdoor. There's a crowd of people on the
back patio, smoking and talking and laughing, but I ignore them. There are
a few people in the pool, too, even though it's way too cold. I walk past
all of them and into the pool house.

The pool house is basically a small house of its own, or like a hotel
suite. There's a big bed, a couch, a TV, a little kitchenette, and a
bathroom. The side facing the pool is all glass, but I pull the curtains
closed when I go in, and flop down on the bed, cradling the tequila bottle.

We hang out in this pool house all the time, especially in the Summer, me,
and Geoff, and Ben. It's the closest thing I have to a safe space here. I
scoot up to the headboard, pulling my knees up in front of me as I lean
against it, and take a swig of tequila. It burns, but I like it.

Geoff fucked me on this bed. We were fifteen, and we had raided his
parents' liquor cabinet, stealing just a splash of everything and mixing it
together with coke. It was an awful concoction, and honestly it was barely
enough to give one person a buzz, much less two, but we thought we were so
cool, and we didn't have much experience with alcohol so we were playing up
whatever little we did feel from it.

"I just wanna get laid," Geoff whined around 1 AM. We had been talking for
hours by then, while Braveheart played on the TV in the background. I just
laughed at him, and he slapped me.

"Shut up, it's not so easy for us straight guys," he said. And like, being
gay isn't easy, but I had lost my virginity the year before, and had hooked
up a few times since, so maybe he had a point. Girls at that age just
weren't as willing to have sex.

"You could fuck me," I said, shrugging. I think I meant it as a joke, but
it's hard to say now. I mean, I always liked the way Geoff looks, tall and
slim with that gorgeous tan and warm eyes. But I never really crushed on
him, not like Ben.

Geoff didn't take it as a joke, though. "Seriously?" He asked, licking his
lips and lowering his hand to his crotch. And seeing how hard his cock was
under his hand made my mind up for me, I just nodded and scooted closer to
him, replacing his hand with my own.

I sucked him for maybe a minute before he told me to stop and we moved to
the bed, where he fucked me. I didn't have a ton of experience at that
point, and in retrospect it was pretty bad, a lot of awkward thrusting
while he held himself up on his arms with his eyes closed, but I liked it,
and when he collapsed on top of me at the end, and we fell asleep curled
around each other, it was my first taste of what it might be like to have a
boyfriend.

I take another swig of tequila. The next morning Geoff said "thanks," and I
said "any time," but we never did it again. I think just knowing he got
laid gave him some confidence, because he always had a girlfriend after
that, although none I liked as much as Erica.

I drink alone in the dark pool house for a few minutes, reminiscing, before
the door opens. For a moment I think the tall silhouette is Geoff, but then
the door closes and the figure steps closer, and I recognize Ryan.

"Fuck, Dev, what were you playing at in there?" He asks.

I snort and say, "Fuck off, Ryan. I want to be alone."

He just stands there breathing, and I take another swig of tequila, pulling
my legs in tighter. After several seconds he sighs and says softly, "I did
miss you."

When I don't reply he steps closer and sits on the edge of the bed,
twisting around to look at me. "I haven't been with anyone since," he
whispers. "It's been rough, it's even worse in college, being... you know."

"Oh my God, you still can't even say it out loud," I chuckle, drinking
again. "Well, sucks for you."

He groans and shakes his head, then twists and crawls onto the bed until
he's sitting right next to me, his hip pressed against mine. "Fine," he
breathes. "I'm gay. If that's what you need to hear."

"I don't need to hear anything from you," I grunt. I try to shift away from
him but he puts one of his huge hands on my leg and holds me in place.

"Come on, Dev," he whispers, leaning down so that I can smell the beer on
his breath. "We were good together. I know you still want me."

And I do. I hate him, but I do. So I don't resist when he turns my face
with his hand and kisses me, and I go with him as he slides down onto the
bed. I even wrap my legs around him while he lies on top of me, pressing up
into him. I wish I were a better person, but it's like dancing, I just feel
and move.

He has my robe hitched up to my chest, and he's starting to pull my shorts
and boxers down together when he hears the door start to open again and
jumps off the bed to his feet in an instant.

"For fuck's sake, Ryan," I hear Ben saying, though I can't see him around
Ryan's body. "Leave Devin alone, he's got a boyfriend."

Ryan laughs. "Who, you?"

"What's it matter to you," Ben asks. "Devin's nothing but an easy fuck to
you." Ouch. It may be true, but hearing Ben say I'm an easy fuck hurts. I
reach for the tequila bottle lying on the bed next to me and cradle it to
my chest again.

"Whatever, Davis," Ryan grunts, elbowing past him to the door. He looks
back at me for a moment before leaving, though, and says, "I'm in town all
weekend." He pauses. "I really have missed you."

When the door closes behind him, Ben lets out a sigh and walks over to
me. He just looks down at me from the side of the bed and doesn't say
anything.

I go to take another pull from the tequila bottle, tilting it back for a
big drink and Ben mutters, "Christ," and I feel him climbing onto the
bed. He tries to wrestle the bottle away from me, but I fight back, still
holding it to my mouth. It's not until I kick out against him that I
realize my shorts and boxers are halfway down my thighs, and in my panic to
cover up I let go of the bottle and he takes it.

"Devin," Ben says softly while I pull my shorts up and my robe
down. "What's with you tonight?"

I turn onto my side away from him and don't answer, shutting my eyes. I
feel him getting off the bed and walking around it, and when I open my eyes
he's crouched there, his face not far from mine. Looking into his eyes, I
find myself whispering, "I'm so fucked up, Ben."

Ben lays his hand on top of mine and I latch onto it, squeezing tight. "I'm
gonna get you home," he sighs. The next thing I know he's pulling me up to
my feet and when I stumble he puts my arm over his shoulders to support
vme. "I've got you."

Everything's a little wobbly, but Ben is solid, and I hold onto him through
a blur of lights and people, until it's just us, and cool air. I'm not
doing a great job moving my feet, but Ben keeps me going somewhat straight.

"I'm so fucked up," I repeat, because I don't think he got it before.

"You're not fucked up, Devin, you're just drunk," he says gently.

I shake my head, sniffing, and... crying? I guess I'm crying. I wipe at my
face with my free hand and then stop walking. I pull Ben to a stop too.

"No," I say, swaying a little. Ben holds onto my shoulder. "I really am. I
don't know what's wrong with me."

"Dev, nothing's wrong with you," Ben chuckles.

"No!" I yell, and then look around. The street is empty, but I lower my
voice. "I'm really messed up, Ben... I have a boyfriend but I was gonna
fuck Ryan and... I fucked Reed."

"Reed?" Ben blinks at me. "Your brother Reed?"

I nod and start sobbing. I hear him mutter, "shit." He's going to walk away
from me. He's never going to speak to me again.

He doesn't though, he wraps his arms around me, and squeezes me tight. I
sob into the crook of his neck while he strokes my back, and it's all too
much. Everything hurts. "I love him," I choke out. "I love him and it's so
fucked up. I'm so fucked up." That's when I really fuck up. "I wouldn't be
like this if you had ever wanted me... if you loved me back."

For several seconds Ben freezes. He goes stiff and he stops stroking my
back, and I sob even harder. "I'm sorry," I whimper. "It's not your
fault. I'm the one who's messed up."

Ben rests his cheeks against the top of my head and squeezes me a little
tighter, stroking my back again. "It's okay," he whispers.

I don't know how long we stand there, but eventually the tears dry up and I
pull away before Ben forces me away, and I start walking. I'm still not
very steady, and I only get a few feet before Ben is by my side, putting my
arm over his shoulders again.

I don't know why he's still here, why he's not running away. Maybe he's
just too nice to leave me alone to pass out on the side of the road. Maybe
after tonight he'll never speak to me again. But for now I just lean into
his warmth and let him lead me.

I'm startled when he stops walking, then I see that we're in front of my
house. "Do you want me to stay here tonight?" He asks, still holding me
up. I shake my head. I can't look at him. "Okay, Dev. I'll just get you
inside."

I shake my head again and step away from him. I sway a little, but I stay
upright. "No, I'm fine. I don't need you," I say, stumbling away.

"Dev," he starts, but I cut him off.

"Go home, Ben," I snap, making my way to the door. He sighs but he doesn't
follow after me, and when I've got the door open he starts to walk away,
and I barely hear him say "good night, Dev."

I stumble inside and lose my balance a little, pulling the door closed with
a slam. I catch myself and then lean back against the door while the world
tilts for a moment. I know I need to take my shoes off, but they look far
away, and bending over seems hard right now, so I slide my back down the
door until I'm sitting on the ground and pull my feet in to try to pull
them off.

My shoe won't come off, and I suddenly realize that's because it's still
tied and I let out a loud, frustrated sob. I'm picking clumsily at the
laces when I hear a voice. "Devin?" I look up and see Dad standing at the
top of the stairs, looking down at me with a frown.

"Hey!" I say, grinning up at him. Wasn't I sad? Or mad? I don't remember. I
don't feel sad now. Dad's here.

"Oh Christ," he sighs as he starts walking down the stairs toward me. He's
in a white t-shirt that has seen better days, tight across his chest, and
faded blue boxers so thin I can see his dick swinging with each step. I
smile dopily at him as he gets closer. He's so handsome. Like a sexy,
mature Reed. A better Reed, one who wouldn't fuck with my heart. Who loves
me no matter what.

He kneels down in front of me and brushes my hands away from my
shoelaces. As he deftly unties them, hunched over my legs, I lean forward
and rest my head on his shoulder, breathing him in. He smells like a man,
and like home. I barely register him tugging off my shoes before he's
pulling me up into a standing position.

"Mm..." I hum into his collarbone, wrapping one arm around his middle and
resting my other hand on his hip. He holds me up, his hands on my
shoulders.

"Dev," he says quietly, patiently, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. "I
need to get you to bed."

Yes. Yes, I need Dad to take me to bed. I press my lips to his collarbone,
kissing gently, my tongue just flicking out. My hand slips under his shirt,
caressing the tight muscles of his stomach, as I turn my head just slightly
to kiss his neck. He feels so good. Tastes so good. God, how I've wanted
him. Wait, that's fucked up, isn't it? I'm supposed to feel bad about this,
right? I'm not sure.

"Devin?" I love my name on his lips. I want my lips there too, but I don't
want to lift my head, so I just suck lightly on his neck, and let my hand
wander down his belly. He lets out a little gasp that I feel vibrating
against my lips when I dip under his waistband, and when I curl my fingers
around his cock, he shudders.

"Devin, you can't--" It's hot, and plump, and when I tease the bare head
with my fingertips I feel it pulse and thicken.

"Yes," I moan, pressing kisses all across his neck and throat before
sliding down his body. I press my nose into his shaft and lash out with my
tongue, swiping across his crown through the thin cloth. I imagine I can
actually taste him. Soon.

"Devin, stop." I'm not sure how, but now he has my wrist in his hand, held
out to his side, and he's looking down into my eyes. I could drown in his
gaze, and I smile up at him. "You need to go to bed."

"Yeah," I giggle. He hauls me to my feet again and steers me toward my
room. I lean against him, half my face plastered to his side.

Once we're in my bedroom I stand up straight and step away from him,
turning to face him as I pull off my robe. I remove my shorts awkwardly,
hopping on one foot as I shove them down. Then with what I think is my
sexiest smile I turn away and slip my boxers down, bending over to show my
ass.

I walk to my bed naked, smiling at Dad over my shoulder. He's still
standing in the doorway, watching me with cool grey eyes, eyes I can't
read. But he's watching me, watching as I lie ass up on the bed, my legs
slightly spread. "Okay, sexy," I mumble, the pillow so refreshingly cool
against my cheek. My eyes slip shut. "I'm ready."

I think I hear a muttered "fuck," but it feels so good to lie down and I
can't really remember... remember what? I don't think it matters. This is
nice, the soft sheets, the gentle rolling of the Earth itself.

A ray of sunlight shines its way down my spine and lingers on my ass, and a
warm breeze blows on my face, the wind whispering "good night, Dev," and I
smile, sighing peacefully as everything fades away.

-----

Okay, so that was a tough one. I've also been quite busy and distracted, so
I'm sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoyed it, even though it's low on
sex and high on drama. There will be more to come, I promise, though I
can't make any promises on when. I do appreciate the e-mails I've gotten
checking in to see if I'm still alive, but I can also assure you that
either the answer is "yes and busy," or "no and that sucks for both of us."

I also appreciate any feedback. Let me know what you think of the new
chapter, or the story as a whole. I have my own ideas, of course, about
where this whole thing is going, and also some ideas for a new story when
this one is finished, but I'm always interested to hear what readers think
should happen next. And of course, feedback is the only payment writers
here get, and the best motivation to keep working.

If I haven't directly responded to your e-mail yet, I promise I will soon.
I just feel guilty about responding when I haven't made any progress on the
story, and now I have quite a backlog.

Lastly, as the Archivist always reminds me when I submit, Nifty stays alive
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