Date: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 03:18:09 +0530
From: Xerneas
Subject: Patronus

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction and none of the characters or
events portrayed in the story are real.
The story contains explicit content and it is advised that that you close
it if you are not above 18 or it is illegal to read this where you are.

PATRONUS

When I was seven, he was brought into the house. My mother's childhood
friend had died before her time, and in her will she had willed the custody
of her children towards my mother. Perhaps, she had not heard of my
mother's recent misgivings. Without enough money to feed. A family of four,
everyone began to work to exhaustion for their food. Tensions ran high. He
was a prodigy, immediately adept at playing piano and violin, both of which
he taught by himself using instruments at our kind neighbours house. My
mother, instead of being proud of him and loving him more than me, began to
detest him. Her allegiance to her bloodline entangled with her awe of this
amazingly talented boy, and the former dominated the latter. Among all
this, it was expected that I resented him, but I didn't.

For the longest time I had nothing to do with him. I would eat my meals
with haste and do my homework in a room I claimed as my own, (but basely it
was a closet beneath the stairs.) Along with my bedroom came emulated
dreams: Letters in my box on my eleventh birthday. They never came. He was
three years younger than me. I began to realize that the letter might very
well come to him.

In those three years, I began to know him a little. It began when I heard
him playing the cello at old timothy's house. I climbed over the hedge,
guided by the divine music, and saw Mr. Timothy sitting beside him, his
eyes closed, in a reverie. I crept in through the open door. Marcus saw me
and waved, without pausing. For some reason I had a horrible notion that if
Mr. Timothy would be awakened, something terrible would happen. It had
something to do with a slight smile on his face. I went into the kitchen
behind the sofa on which they were sitting. I peered at the scene from the
crack in the door. Marcus ended his music, and turned around, with a
nervous glance. As Mr. Timothy also turned to look, I quickly hid behind
the door.

"Finished then?" Marcus nodded.
"Very good, very good. And now the usual?"
"Marcus half-glancing back, asked nervously, "Do I always have to?"
"Dear, sweet, child. In life, nothing ever is given to anyone for free.
Everything is earned. I did you a service, it must be repaid, with another
SERVICE!"

Marcus slowly got up, and moved over to Mr. Timothy. He got down on his
knees just in front of the old man. He reached for his belt and undid it.
He pulled it down till his knees, exposing the old man's white underwear.
He then leaned forward, and licked the region between the man's legs. My
face contorted in disgust. Then Marcus peeled back the underwear, revealing
the fast swelling Penis of the old man. He took the semi-erect Penis
between his little hands, and pulled it towards his lips. He began licking
the head of the penis softly and gently, almost as if he cared for it.
After a while, he took more of the penis inside his mouth, until his lips
had finally reached the base. He began to suck on it, faster and faster.
The old man moaned in ecstasy, the previous grin, now amplified over his
face. Even though I was disgusted, I couldn't help but look on. Finally,
Mr. Timothy began to shudder with immense pleasure, his penis pulsing
visibly. A sticky white fluid filled Marcus' mouth, and he swallowed it,
lapping it up like a dog. He had enjoyed it. His initial hesitation had
only been due to the fact that I was there. He had forgotten all about it.
Marcus thanked Timothy for allowing him to use the cello, and Timothy
smiled, saying a thank you in return.

I never talked about it to Marcus. The vast divide between us deepened even
further. Life worsened, as my mother and father started striking me, for my
poor grades. Food was scarce on the table. Father would often walk into the
house drunk and smoked up. He would start screaming incessantly, abusing me
and Marcus. He even blamed Marcus for being intelligent, in the sense that
he had "stolen" intelligence that was meant for me. I looked meekly at my
dinner at such times. My mother died when I was twelve, and Marcus nine.
They said she died of a drug overdose. I think she did it on purpose. Of
course, she didn't do it so that my Father had one less mouth to feed. In
fact she had told him to `Fuck Off' the night earlier. She probably died
because she wasn't getting enough for herself, and it wasn't in her esteem,
though already low, to eat food meant for the two of us. My father improved
for a few weeks, but slumped again. He became worse than ever.

 Then, on one day a few months later, I was passing by my father's room,
when I saw my father lying naked on the bed, moaning in pleasure. I had
just returned from school, receiving an improperly bolted front door, and
had entered. I saw a mouth go up and down over his large, meaty cock. His
hand was extended over someone's head, forcing it down onto his large
penis. I looked on with horror as I realized that it was Marcus. Several
beer bottles lay strewn all around the bed.

"Suck it! You little bitch!" My father screamed. I heard my adoptive
brother scream in agony. He leaped off the bed. The final thrust dealt by
father had caused him to choke. He sputtered and gasped for air, backing
away from the bed.

"You come right here, little man. I feed you, clothe you, shelter you, and
heck even educate you, just like my own son. You will fucking pay us back!"
His speech was slurred. My father was drunk.

"What the fuck do you mean, `IT HURTS!'? Quit whining you bitch, it's
supposed to hurt. My father got up from the bed and advanced on Marcus. For
a second, they moved out of my viewing range. Then I heard a loud scream. I
entered the room, my father poised over my brother, with a belt, ready to
deal the second blow.

"Jason! What the hell are you doing here?!" was all my father could say to
me. I ran forward, picked up Marcus in arms, and took him to my little
closet. Now I knew why my father wanted Marcus to sleep in his room. I
wonder what my mom had done to him. The image of a sweet and caring woman
shattered from my mind, as I imagined unimaginable horrors. I wished them
not to be true.

I laid Marcus next to me, as he cried uncontrollably. I switched off the
lights, and put my arms around him. I ran my fingers through his hair as he
wept, occasionally muttering a word of consolation to him. I was almost
asleep, when I sat up straight in bed. I remembered, that tonight was
Marcus' eleventh birthday. I looked out of the window, and stared at the
full moon, wondering if some shaggy giant would come to whisk us away from
home to a magical land. Marcus was sound asleep. I was already fourteen,
and realized that even if magic didn't exist, things like being saved
miraculously by a kind stranger, never really happened. I got up and began
throwing clothes into my bag.

I was short for my age with honey coloured hair and eyes. Marcus, on the
other hand was tall for his age, and had jet black hair and eyes. I figured
that my clothes would do for him too. I raided the fridge as quietly as I
could manage, putting in dry snacks and tinned stuff. I crept into my
father's room. He was lying naked on his bed, asleep. A moonbeam from the
window fell right across his body, illuminating his thick penis, with cum
trailing from its end onto his belly. His pants lay on the floor. I picked
up his pants and pulled his wallet out from it, pocketing it. Then before I
lost the nerve, I quickly leaned in and licked a drop of his semen. It
tasted salty, and nice, and I remember thinking then that it would go well
with a cracker or pancakes. I crept out of the room somewhat noisily and
quickly, relying on his intoxication to keep him asleep. I woke Marcus up
and told him we were leaving.

Soon we were on a late night bus, travelling as far away as we could. A
kind old lady sat ahead of us on the bus. I knew she was kind because she
talked to us a lot, and gave us cookies. She said she was alighting at the
same place as we were, the next morning, and she would keep us company till
then. Most importantly, she never asked what two children were doing,
travelling alone.

After she had slept, I desired to ask Marcus some questions, and know about
his past. He said that his mother had loved him very much, but had sensed
that his father didn't. So she had divorced him, and willed his custody to
my mother in case something happened to her. He also told me that my mother
never touched him, but never protected him either, passively sleeping on
the floor, silently weeping and afraid. In her last days, a sea change had
occurred over her and she began quarrelling with father. She would even
stand up for him. I realized that my closet had truly been magical,
shielding me from the goings-on of the bedroom right nearby. Unfortunately,
it had failed to protect Marcus. Soon, after we had chatted, (Marcus also
told me that old man Timothy was very nice to him, except for his demand
for SERVICE), Marcus fell asleep, resting his head on my shoulder. I ran my
fingers through his hair gently, so as to provide solace to him while
simultaneously not waking him up. I muttered words of comfort. "You and I,
we are one person from now, okay?" He nodded as he slept.

 We never directly talked about what exactly Marcus had done for Father or
even Mr. Timothy, and I preferred it that way.

The old lady's kindness had far reaching consequences. She said that her
grandson was a farmer, and her grand daughter-in-law, a seamstress, in the
countryside. She offered us a small job as farmhands for her grandson.

My years at the farm were the best of my life. The farmhouse was huge, and
housed the old lady, her daughter (a widow), and her grandson and his wife,
who was blessed to bring another family member into the house.
Incidentally, within a matter of three months, we were considered a part of
their family too. However, I felt eternally in debt, and hence I never
shirked my duties. Vast meadows surrounded the farm where the cattle
grazed. There were horses that I tended to, and pigs and chicken too. There
was a small black dog called `friend', who helped herd the cattle and was a
dear member of the family too. The food, cooked by the old lady and young
Martha, was delicious. They served us large portions of bread, homemade
cheese, ham and turkey, vegetable stew and many other delicacies, a welcome
change from tin food and microwave meals, a staple of the Hendricks
household.

Marcus and I milked the cows, grazed the sheep, and drew water from the
well, besides helping in other manual labour. We slept above the barn, on a
floor built to work as an inn. Somehow the smell of the pigsty below didn't
seem to attract too many travellers. We had the whole floor to ourselves,
minimally furnished with two beds and a table. There was also an attached
bathroom with a tub and comote. I continued to read books that Hanson
(Martha's husband) bought for us, and began to tutor Marcus also.

One day, I was alone in the stables, cleaning the horses. I was washing the
underside of Queen, when his large cock sprung out of its socket as I
cleaned it. The penis grew to its massive size, emerging from the soft skin
that was previously enveloping it. I began to stroke it, and Queen
shuddered with excitement. He neighed in pleasure. I realized that he was
enjoying it. I was just the right size to stand below his belly then (I was
fifteen and short). I extended my tongue and licked the head of his penis.
A white liquid suddenly discharged in small quantity. I tasted it
tentatively at first, and then gulped it down. I forced my mouth wide open
and moved my lips up his penis. The penis began to pulse with life. I
quickened my pace. I took the penis out and licked its length, working my
tongue quickly. I continued to suck his penis, until it pulsed with bouts
of energy. Finally he came. My mouth was suddenly filled with a massive
amount of horse semen. I swallowed all of it and savoured every drop. I
left the stable after I finished washing all the horses.

Marcus was already asleep when I climbed into bed next to him. I hadn't
washed yet, and I savoured the remaining semen in my mouth.

Marcus and I usually bathed together. The morning of my eighteenth
birthday, I woke up sleepily. Marcus was in front of me, with a wide grin
on his face. He was washed and dressed already. I was annoyed, as I had
dreamt of shampooing his silky black hair and running my fingers through
them. He said he had woken early and gone to the town to buy me a present.
He asked me to close my eyes. When I opened them, I realized that Marcus
had had a photo of the both of us framed. I smiled and hugged him. I
quickly bathed and changed. We had the day off, so we decided to go
trekking. We climbed a small hillock near the farm. We rolled in the grass
under the shade of a huge tree. We had a picnic lunch and stayed till the
sun set. Soon the stars were out. I suggested that we slept under the
summer sky.

I laid out our blanket and lied down. Marcus lay next to me, at an angle,
so that he could rest his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his
hair and put an arm around him. We looked at the starry sky and a peaceful
and comfortable silence surrounded us.

"I love you, brother" He said. I replied that I loved him too and he
reached up to kiss me on the cheek. I hugged him tight and pecked his
forehead. Then I planted a kiss on each of his eyes. He moved his body
slightly up against me and his midriff rubbed against mine. I felt his
manhood against mine. He rested his head in the crevice of my neck. The
silence continued. I sighed in contentment.

"Brother, what are the stars, actually?"
"Well some say that they are the spirits of the deceased watching over us.
Others say that they are wishes made my people all around the world. Stars,
in truth, are simply large balls of fire that are scattered in the heavens."
"Just like the sun, right?"
"Right."
"So does each star have an earth for it then?" He asked, almost in awe,
attempting to contemplate the consequence: a trillion or more earths spread
across the universe.
"Not all, but some do have planets around them."
"By planets you mean Jupiter and the rest of them, right?" I nodded.
"So how many of them are like earth, with other humans on them?"
"Well, none are known so far, but there may be some that have habitable
environments. Of course, there might not be other humans."
"You're talking about aliens, right? So that means they're real?"
"I don't really know."
"I want to go out there, and live somewhere where there isn't anyone else,
human or alien. I want to live in a place like this, silent, peaceful and
serene. I like this solitude. The calmness of space, I want to live in it,
but I know I cannot survive in that. I want to go to planet where I can
survive, but which is undiscovered. I wish that could happen, but I know it
won't." He sighed.
"Does this solitude include me?" I said, half-jokingly.
 He turned and looked at me. I realized that he had really grown into a
handsome young boy. The expression on his face was grave. I gulped,
wondering what was coming.
He leaned forward, such that his nose was almost touching mine. "How can
you even ask me that? You and I are one person now, remember? Whether I'm
in a crowd of strangers, or in blissful solitude, you will always be
there." He leaned forward until our noses brushed. Then he pressed his lips
against mine. I gulped, feeling nervous. If this was a typical situation
between two gay boys, he would've been completely out of my league. That,
added to the fact that he was my brother, made it even weirder. Sweat
emerged from my brows. He lifted his head and looked at me, giving me an
encouraging smile. I reached up and kissed him, as my eyelids closed,
shutting out the sky peppered with stars like fairy dust. His lips parted,
and our tongues met. My tongue extended to the back of his throat, and his
to mine, as we became one person. His kiss felt like breathing or
heartbeat. I felt that if I stopped kissing, I would fall into oblivion. He
put his arm around my neck pulled my head closer, such that we were kissing
deeply. He paused the kiss, and remained like that. Goosebumps rose on my
skin, as felt exhilarated, suspended in a moment so slow and passive, yet
vibrant and full of life at the same time. It was like Starry Night, a
painting capturing a scene onto canvas, unmoving yet moving, lifeless yet
lively, a painting yet a portal into a magical world.

Finally he resumed the kiss. The mood shifted. He was gasping between
kisses, and our lip-locks were more rapid by the minute. His chest heaved
deep and quick breaths, as did mine, mirroring his in perfect synchrony.
Moans escaped him between these moments. Finally he pulled away, and then
descended onto my neck. I suddenly rose, arching my back, as head fell back
in the throes of pleasure. He moved from my neck to my torso. He undid the
buttons of shirt as he kissed in the spaces between them. Soon both our
shirts were tossed into the night, and he began to lick my pecks. He
nibbled at them playfully, as he giggled. Then he moved to my stomach and
below that. He suddenly came away. His hands were on my belt, but were
paused, hesitantly. I gulped. He was about to do to me what he had been
forced to do throughout his childhood, but willingly. I could only imagine
the pain in his mind. I didn't want to believe whatever he did for me was
servile in any manner. I was about to tell him to stop, when he smiled
widely, undid my belt, and pulled my pants down.

I don't know what went through his mind while he had paused, but he seemed
to want to make his experience with me as different from his previous ones
as possible. I cannot begin to explain how he skilfully adopted techniques
from his time with both men, resulting in an art which he executed far
greater than on either account, at least to my knowledge.

He began slow, holding my six inch penis in his left hand and gently
stroking it. He leaned forward and licked the tip. I shuddered. Then his
soft lips enclosed on the head of my penis. It felt divine. He moved his
lips down my shaft, swallowing half of it, moving his head back and forth
slowly. He occasionally pulled it out to lick the length of it, and juggle
my balls with his playful tongue. He began sucking faster. Both of us began
to moan, louder and louder, until we were screaming and gasping in
pleasure. He began swallowing the entire length of it. My penis pulsated,
and I was enshrouded in exaltation. I closed my eyes and imagined the
blissful solitude that he so passionately desired. I imagined him and me
there. He began sucking with tremendous pace as my pleasure climaxed. I
felt my sperm move up the tube inside my penis. I felt like was casting a
spell, my penis the channel of my magic. The semen was the spell itself, a
spell formed of intense joy and happiness. It was a patronus, which burst
from the tip of my cock, and filled his mouth. Suddenly, I realized, that
even though I had protected him from shadows creeping around us, He
protected me from the shadows that were inside of me. He gave me happiness
and the ability to never lose faith and belief. He was my joy, my
happiness, my PATRONUS.