Date: Thu, 29 Nov 2018 15:35:58 -0500 From: RJ Subject: Brothers at Arms Chapter 6 Brothers at Arms by RJ This multi-part fiction involves the developing relationship between two brothers (aged 13 and 19). If you are offended by such themes, do not read. If you have any comments about my work, or even just want to chat, please don't hesitate to message me. A NOTE TO THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING THIS STORY: This will be the last chapter for a little while. Since I'm comfortable with how I've left things off at the end of this chapter, I've decided to take a break from this story in order to focus on others. I plan to revisit the lives of these brothers eventually, though. So, in the meantime, if you have any suggestions as to where you'd want the story to continue, I'd love to hear! I'm hoping that various suggestions will inspire me to go in a certain direction once I come back to this story. Thanks to all who have reached out thus far -- especially my regulars. Much love. As always, please support Nifty in any way you can. ~ CHAPTER 6 ~ Cooking is one of my favorite things to do with my dad. He's always in an upbeat mood when he's making something -- especially breakfast food. French toast is on the menu for this morning, and I help soak the bread before passing it to him and watching him slap the bread onto the skillet. "God, that smells so good," I say, leaning in a bit and inhaling. "Almost arousing, isn't it?" my dad says. I burst out laughing. "Ew, Dad." He chuckles. "What?" "Don't be gross." "It's not gross," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "It's natural." "Really?" I say, looking up at him. "Getting aroused by food is natural?" "You know what I mean," he says, hitting my arm playfully with the spatula before flipping the toast over. "You know, we've never had the, uh... the talk." I blush a bit. "Oh God," I mutter. He laughs again. "Your mom's been pestering me to sit you down. But you're a smart kid. I'm sure you know what's what by now." He looks at me, an eyebrow raised. "Right?" "Right," I say with a slight smile. He has this energy about him that makes me feel less uncomfortable about it. "I figured." He presses down on one of the pieces of toast and I listen to it sizzle. "I told her that you kids and your generation are just... totally different from us." He chuckles a bit. "But regardless, if you ever need anything, or have questions--" "I can come to you," I say, finishing his sentence. "I know, Dad." He smiles at me for a moment. "You're way more receptive than your brother was." I giggle at the thought. "You gave Dean the talk?" "Oh yeah," he says, nodding, "right after I caught him masturbating at your aunt's. He wouldn't look at me for a week after that." I try to resist laughing but I can't. The image is hilarious. "Wish I was there to witness that," I say between laughs. He chuckles slightly, shaking his head. "Hey, mind waking him up for me? We'll be done soon." I blink. "He's here?" Dad looks at me. "Isn't he? I saw his car in the driveway." For some reason, my heart races as I quickly move to the window to check. Sure enough, there's Dean's car. I didn't even notice him come home last night. Or this morning. But when I get upstairs, I realize why: when he's home, his door is always closed (and often locked). Right now, it's half-open. Maybe that's why I didn't think anything of it when I woke up this morning. I poke my head in and see him sprawled across his bed, his body all tangled up in his sheets. He's wearing underwear, I think, but that's it. I bite my lip. Dean is home. It feels strange since I've barely seen him lately. A weird mix of excitement and anxiety floods over me as I step into his room and nearly trip over a couple empty liquor bottles. "Dean," I say softly when I get close to his bed. He doesn't stir. I reach out and touch his arm. As soon as I touch him, he flinches, sitting up slightly and raising his fist as if ready to strike. But he quickly realizes it's me. "Ste-- You fuckin' scared me," he says, taking a breath before relaxing a bit and then rubbing his forehead. He looks like a hot mess. His hair is disheveled, which could just be from sleep. But his eyes look almost bloodshot. Probably the drinking. "Sorry," I say. "What are you doing?" he asks. "You're home," I say simply. He glances at me. "Yeah...?" "I missed you," I admit. He immediately looks uncomfortable from me saying that, so I decide to answer his question. "Dad's making breakfast." "I'm not hungry," he says, lying down again. I pause a bit. I don't want to cut the conversation so early. "How... uh... How've you been?" He blinks, looking at me as if he doesn't understand the question. "Huh?" "I don't know. How are you? How was your friend's?" He shakes his head, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "No," he says. No? What does that mean? "What?" "I... Sorry. I, uh, made it up," he explains. "You... huh?" Now I'm confused. "I lied," he says, scratching his chest. "To you. I just needed to be alone--" "Away from me, you mean," I say, and immediately bite my lip. Shut the fuck up and let him speak, Stevie. "It's not about you, Stevie," he says, strangely calmer than I expected. "I mean... it is, but..." He closes his eyes again. Tightly, though, as if he has a headache. "I don't know. I just needed to think." "Or drink," I mutter, glancing down at the empty bottles at my feet. I regret saying it. Again with the commentary. Why can't I keep it to myself right now? "Shut up," he says, sounding exhausted. "Sorry," I say, taking a breath and looking back at him. His hand is back on his forehead. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Headache," he says, rubbing his forehead slowly with his fingers. "Let me get you some Advil or something," I say, starting to sit up. But he stops me. "No, it's fine." Then he looks me up and down slightly. "Wanna come to bed?" he asks. I blink. "Really?" "Yes, you dork," he says sleepily, yawning a bit. God, I would love nothing more than to cuddle with him right now. "Dad and I made French toast. I only came up to wake you up." "Fine," he says, rolling back over and pulling the blankets up. I lick my lip a bit. "Can I come back?" "Sure," he says after a moment, and I smile. I practically scarf my food down -- fast enough for my dad to laugh at me. I just tell him I have homework to get done before I wash my dish and then hurry back upstairs. I knock on Dean's door before stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. He seems like he's asleep until I actually climb onto the bed. He responds by opening up the blankets and letting me slide under the covers to cuddle up against him. He wraps his arm around me and I resist humming loudly. Fuck, it feels like it's been too long since he's held me like this. It's perfect. My back fits nicely against his bare torso. My ass presses firmly into his crotch. Our legs fit together just right. A flawless fit. And he's so warm and cozy. I love it. After a minute of quietly lying in his arms, I start to take things up a notch. I press my ass back against his crotch a little more. He grunts softly and then lets out a sigh, and I smile. I start moving my hips in slow circles, and I feel him hardening in his underwear before he grips my hip. "Stop," he says. I immediately feel embarrassed. I thought this is what he wanted. "I'm sorry." He sighs, as if frustrated. "It's fine. Just... Not right now, okay?" he says, sliding his hand up my shirt to rest on my torso. "Okay," I say quietly. Even though he's being nice about it, and even though he's still spooning me, the fact that he doesn't want to have sex with me troubles me. I should be more understanding, but I'm nothing other than concerned. He remains a little distant, but over the next few days, I notice that he becomes more comfortable around me again. He starts cracking more jokes, smiling more, calling me playful names, messing around with me. There's nothing sexual, though. Even though the intimacy returns over the course of another week (he'll hug me, or initiate cuddles), I still miss the feeling of his lips on mine. Being naked with him. Having rough, passionate, intense sex. A couple times I've tried to initiate something but he'll either tilt his head away or flat-out turn me down. I tell myself to be patient. That the ball is in his court, and that I have to wait for him to sort out whatever he's trying to sort out. But whatever that is, I have only an idea. I can assume that he maybe possibly potentially has feelings for me. Real feelings. A love beyond brotherly. And if that's true, then this is something we should work through together, right? After all, I'm half the equation here. But I'm indecisive. Do I confront him? I could remain patient. But what if he's trying to get over his feelings for me? What if I wait too long and it's too late to salvage what could be? And then I have to ask myself: What does that even mean? It's not like we can be a couple. That's illegal on two fronts. But I know what I want. I just want things to be the way they were, and take whatever comes with that. What does he want? For days, that question drives me insane. There's way too much speculation going on in my head, but I only finally muster up enough courage after getting mad at him. I stayed after school to work on a project with some of my classmates, and now I'm walking home because Dean won't answer his phone. He promised he'd pick me up like usual, but didn't show. So, on the long walk back to my house, I spend time being pissed at him before I start thinking about that stupid term "us." I think between the anger and curiosity, I feel like I won't back down confronting him and making him open up to me. It's time to finally get some answers. But there's a snag, of course. When I walk through the front door, I'm already starting to berate Dean for bailing on me before I stop in place. Dean is just sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on his nails and staring down at a letter that's resting on the table. "Dean?" He glances over at me and seems to finally acknowledge that I'm there. Then, recognition. "Shit," he whispers, closing his eyes. "I forgot to grab you." "You okay?" I ask after a moment. He seems weird. He looks back at the letter. "I got in," he says after a long pause. I stare in confusion. "What are you talking about?" "I got in," he repeats. He looks surprised about something, and he offers the piece of paper to me. I drop my bag and get closer to him, taking the letter and quickly scanning it. It's from a college. A nationally-ranked institute. And then I realize that this is an acceptance letter. "How did you...? What?" Now I'M surprised. For one, I didn't even know that he was looking at colleges. Plus, I've heard of this place, and unless I'm misremembering, don't they have a low acceptance rate? This is a top-notch school when it comes to the arts. "When did you apply?" "Couple weeks ago," he says, and I automatically assume it was the day after the party. "Sent in some audition stuff with the equipment you got me." "I..." I swallow. "I thought you didn't want to go to college." "Not for nothing," he says, taking the letter from me and scanning it again. "But I wanna do music and music production 'n shit." He glances at me. "I didn't think I'd actually get in. This place is like, the best of the best, man." "I've heard," I say softly. "I just applied for shits." If he had told me he wanted to apply, I would have told him not to bother. His grades aren't exactly the best. Not even average. And he does nothing extracurricular to help boost his application. But damn, someone must have thought he really had something in his audition tapes, or whatever the hell he submitted. I stare at Dean. I can't tell if he's excited or not. "This is a good thing," I say slowly, "right?" He glances at me again, nodding. "Yeah, I just... Jesus." He laughs a bit. "I got in." He says it again as if he has to make himself believe it. And he smiles a little wider. I laugh too, nudging his arm, and he blushes a bit before laughing harder. "Congrats, big bro," I tease. He looks proud for a moment before he's back to how I had found him: solemn, surprised, confused, pensive. "What?" "Well... I don't know. It's expensive," he says. "You can take out loans." "And it's far." It is pretty far. A few states over. "So? If it's what you wanna do..." "It IS what I wanna do," he says, folding up the letter and putting it back in the envelope it came in. "But I don't want to leave you." He says it so casually that I get tingles throughout my body. I bite my lip a bit. He doesn't want to leave me? There he goes again, saying things like that without realizing what it does to me. My heart rate seems to increase a bit, and I absentmindedly lick and chew on my bottom lip. But before I can get a word out, he says he has to go think about things more and then heads upstairs. It takes every ounce of willpower to resist freaking out about this news. On one hand, I'm happy for Dean. Ecstatic, even. And proud of him for both getting into a prestigious school and also finding something else he's interested in: audio production. It'd be a good field for him to dive into if he's serious about music or being a solo artist, which I think he is. So in that regard, I support him if he wants to go to college. After all, it's an excellent opportunity. But then, that's it for us, isn't it? We'll be separated. After all that we've been through, after finally developing a bond, we'll be a whole time zone apart. It's horrible to think that in just a handful of months he could be off doing his own thing, but I keep that thought to myself. I don't want to influence his decision and make him stay just because of what I want, so I hold my tongue (about everything) and wait. Not that I think he's easily swayed. But he's evidently confused, and I can't let my selfishness confuse him further. Even my parents don't offer any new insight. Only a day later, as I'm riding with my dad back home from the grocery store, he brings up Dean mid-conversation. "Hey, did you know Dean was into music?" I pause a bit, glancing at him. "Did he tell you?" "All he said was that he got into Hocksmith and wants to do audio engineering or something." I nod a bit. "Yeah." "Jesus," he whispers, shaking his head. "I had no idea. And you did, huh?" "He made me promise not to tell you guys about the whole music thing." "Why? Is he bad?" Dad asks with a slight grin. "He's actually really, really good," I tell him earnestly. "Guitar, right? He mentioned guitar." "And he sings. And writes." "Huh. I would have never guessed," he says, thinking about that for a moment. As he makes a turn, he glances at me. "You gonna be okay if he leaves?" I blush slightly. His gaze seems to be a little... knowing. "I guess." He shrugs. "You two have gotten close finally, I've noticed." I hope he doesn't know HOW close. "Yeah." He seems to wait for me to keep speaking, but breaks the silence after a few moments. "He seemed mostly upset about the prospect of, you know, not being near you anymore. That's why I ask." I perk up a bit. "Really?" I ask. "Me specifically?" "Pretty much," he says, nodding. "What else did he say?" He shrugs a bit. "We just talked about some of his options. Didn't really reach any conclusions, though. I told him your mom and I could help him with financials and everything. Seems like it's just a matter of whether or not he wants to commit." "Did he seem like he was leaning one way or the other?" I ask. "Honestly? Not sure." I was hoping for a little something, but Dad doesn't really give me anything to work with. I almost wish he hadn't brought it up at all, because now Dean's all I'm thinking about. And to make my mental health worse, as soon as we step inside the house, Dean comes down the stairs. "There you are," he says, grabbing my arm. Quickly, he veers me into the living room for an apparently private conversation. Dad just chuckles slightly. "Can you come with me to Libby's?" he asks. I haven't seen Libby in years. She's his godmother. She's mine as well, but I'm not nearly as close with her as Dean is. "Uh... Right now?" I ask, pulling my arm from his grip. "No. Tomorrow," he says. "For the weekend." There's a sense of urgency about him. "Why?" "Do you want to or not, Stevie?" I bite my lip. "Yeah, but I made plans with Ally--" "Bail on her." I almost laugh. "Why, so I can spend time with you?" I ask in a teasing voice. His expression doesn't change. "Yeah," he says simply. When I don't respond, he continues talking. "I'm leaving at 8am. Don't be late." He won't tell me why we're going to Libby's, so for the rest of the night, that's all I think about. All this weird secrecy. Him making decisions (that involve me) without me. It sort of pisses me off, but I don't want to fight with him. I just want to talk. I just want to know. So I make sure I'm ready for 8am the next day. I pack clothes and such to last for two days before waiting for Dean downstairs. Turns out he's ready to go, messing around on his phone until I make my way into the hallway. "Ready?" he asks. Surprised, I just nod before he grabs his backpack and keys and opens the door for me. I lug my bag outside and wait for him to lock back up before hopping into his car. Libby lives about an hour away from us, so I know it'll be a decent drive. But it feels slightly awkward because he's not playing music and we're just sitting in silence. I wait a few minutes for some sort of explanation, but he just says "You hungry?" I swallow spit. "I don't know. Not really." "We can stop at Dunkin or somethin'." "I'm okay," I assure him, glancing at him slightly. "Why are we going to Libby's?" I ask after a pause. He sighs slightly, scratching his chin. "I have a lot to think about," he says finally. "Y'know, with this college shit. And she always gives me good advice." "And... you wanted me to come?" I ask slowly. "Yeah," he says, looking at me as if I'm stupid. "Like you said, I want to spend time with you." "I was joking when I said that," I say, pushing my glasses back up my nose slightly. "I'm just confused, is all." He pauses for a moment before saying "About?" "I don't know. Us." It sounds silly saying it aloud, but it's the simplest word I could use. He glances at me before making a turn. "Why?" I shrug. "I guess it's just... I mean... We haven't like, kissed or anything for weeks. You know?" He licks his lips slightly before nodding. "Yeah, I know." "Do you not want me anymore?" I ask. "Because if you don't, I just wanna know--" "It's not that," he says. "Then what is it?" I ask. He's been holding back on something for a while. I need to know. Especially if we're going to be together for a whole weekend. "I'm sorry if I'm being pushy," I add. "I just wanna know what you're thinking." There's a moment of silence between us that lasts a little too long for comfort. But finally, he speaks. "I know, Stevie. I'm sorry I've been all... distant and shit. And I know we haven't been, like, intimate in a while, but I just..." He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. "I don't know what I'm thinking. That's the problem." "We could work it out together," I tell him. I'm probably just as confused as he is. "I could help." "I know," he says softly, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. "But no offense, you're 13, and these are decisions I gotta make for myself." "So why am I here then?" I ask, a little more snappily than intended. "Because I want you here," he fires back. He turns onto a main road and accelerates before glancing at me. "Look." He calms down a bit. "I promise I'll be open with you," he says, and that brightens me up a bit. "But I'm not totally ready yet. Just be patient with me, okay?" When I don't respond, he asks "Can we, like, hold off on this 'til later?" I nod to myself after a moment. "Okay." When we pull into Libby's driveway, I smile at the sight of her hunched over the garden that hugs the perimeter of her house. She turns when she hears the tires against the gravel and immediately smiles, waving at us. Dean parks next to her car before we both hop out, grab our bags, and come say hello. Dean's the first to get to her. "Long time no see," she says to him sarcastically. Has Dean visited recently? "I knew you'd miss me too much," he teases, hugging her tightly before Libby glances at me. "I didn't know you were bringing Stevie," she says with a smile. "Man, it's been a while, hasn't it?" she asks, getting a good look at me and calling me handsome before ushering me over for a hug. I blush a bit but hug her back, enjoying the sweet embrace. Libby's always been a sweetheart. Plus, she's tall, thin, and though she's technically old enough to be my grandmother, she's a beauty. I miss her. I don't see her nearly as often as I'd like to, ever since her and my mom got into a huge fight. "You know I only have Hector's old room to spare," she says to Dean as she plays with my hair. "I know," he says. "We're just gonna share the bed." I'm sure I have more of a reaction than she does. I get little tingles at the prospect of sleeping with Dean again. Like "old" times. She doesn't think anything of it and just leads us into her home. She does the typical motherly thing and offers us an abundance of food, which we both eagerly accept. As we dig into a fruit salad and some strange, healthy (but delicious) chips, we catch up. Libby asks all about me at first, but she knows a lot more than I expected. It surprises me until she says "Dean mentioned you're near the top of the class still." I can't help but smile thinking of how people keep telling me that Dean talks about me. I ask her about her life as well, and she tells me that work is going exceedingly well (she's a lawyer) but she's bored lately. "I need more to do!" she says with a little laugh. "That's why I'm always happy to have you guys over." Dean only has one update for her, and that's his acceptance into Hocksmith. She gawks for a moment and then glances at me as if for confirmation before congratulating him profusely. Her son Hector graduated from that same school two years ago, so Dean says he has all sorts of questions about everything: the school itself, the process of admission, the rigor, the benefits... everything. It's not really discussed in-depth until later that night. We spend the day hanging out with Libby, helping her with her garden, and driving into town to purchase more seeds and better tools. After a home-cooked meal (where Libby talks a lot about the benefits of organic eating), we catch a movie at the drive-in, resting on the hood of Libby's car with a blanket draped over us. Under the blanket, Dean rubs my thigh affectionately before holding my hand throughout most of the movie (which makes my heart swell but also gives me a boner). When we get back to the house, we all sit down for a slice of her "famous" chocolate cake. That's when Dean brings up college again. They start to delve into the logistics, money and scholarships, people she knows at school... Once I realize none of it pertains to me in the slightest (I'm not even part of the conversation), I finish with my cake, rinse off my plate, and excuse myself. I stay in Hector's old bed for a bit, Facetiming Ally about Dean potentially going to school. She responds in all the ways I did: shock that he even applied, surprise at the fact that he plays an instrument, and speculation as to whether or not he could even make such a commitment. I thought hearing her echo my exact thoughts would help, but it doesn't really offer me any new insight or information. After we talk a bit, I take a quick shower in the bathroom adjacent to the spare bedroom before getting changed into cozier clothes. I head back to the room briefly to grab my toothbrush, and While I'm brushing my teeth in the bathroom, Dean comes waltzing in, a towel slung over his shoulder and a change of clothes in his arms. "Oh. There you are," he says, dropping his stuff on the floor and starting to remove his shirt. "Was wondering where you went." "Just getting ready for bed," I say, mouth full of toothpaste. Through the mirror, I see Dean grin at me slightly before starting to undo his jeans. "You better not have used all the hot water," he says. I almost forget to respond because Dean gets naked, and I see his cock come into view for a beautiful three seconds. Fuck, it feels like it's been an eternity. "I didn't," I mumble before bending over to spit. "Good," I hear him say. I hear him shift the curtain before the water starts, and by the time I look over, Dean is already in the shower, humming something to himself. I rinse out the toothpaste before glancing towards the shower. "So... Good news or something?" If he's humming, maybe that's a good sign. "Huh?" he asks. "Uh... Yeah. I don't know. I made a decision at least." I bite my lip. "And?" He takes a moment before responding. "And, uh... I don't think I'm going." I didn't know what to expect to feel, so I'm surprised simply by the fact that I'm surprised. "Really?" "I mean, I wanna go," he says, and I see his silhouette soaping himself up. "But I'm fuckin' broke. I need money, so I need a job. Libby says I should maybe take a class or somethin', too, just to see if I'd actually fuckin' commit. Maybe at Tuxon, since it's kinda close and there are tons of jobs around there." I feel a strange sense of relief. "That sounds like a smart plan," I say, biting my lip a little. "So that's that, then?" I ask hesitantly. "That's your decision?" I see him pause a bit before he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, it is," he says decidedly. I smile slightly. "Are you happy or sad about it?" "I don't know, dude," he says, putting his whole body under the shower head. "No matter what, that acceptance letter at least made me feel like... I don't know... like I COULD do something. Get me?" I'm glad he's looking at the positive side of things for once. "You could always apply again, too. When you're ready." "Yeah," he says. "Long as you don't stop working on your music. You can do stuff on your own time." "Well yeah, I can't stop now," he says with a little chuckle. "I was thinkin' of lookin' at apartments or something. Have my own space to 'work on my craft', like Libby said. Plenty of cheap spaces around Tuxon." "You're moving out?" I ask, surprised. "I can't stay at home forever, Stevie," he says with a laugh. "I guess..." Why did I never really consider this possibility? Dean shuts off the water and pulls the curtain aside, bending down to grab his towel and start to dry himself off. "Don't look so upset about it," he says after a moment, and I notice him looking at me. "It's not that far. And you could stay with me whenever." That cheers me up in record-time. "Really?" "Yeah," he says with a little smile. "I'd, uh... I'd like that." I swoon a bit, watching him finish up drying himself off before he pulls on his underwear and then heads to the sink. "I'm using this," he says, grabbing my toothbrush. "That's mine!" I say, trying to grab it back. He holds me back effortlessly. "Fuck off. I forgot mine." "Not my problem." "Too bad, buddy boy." "That's gross, Dean," I say, trying to snatch at it again. "Really? You wanna go there?" he says with a slight grin. I blush a little but give up and let him use my toothbrush, watching him put on a little toothpaste before starting to scrub. "What do you think, anyway?" he asks me as he looks in the mirror. "About what?" "Like, you think it's a good idea?" I chew on my bottom lip. "Well, yeah. You need money, like you said. And even though you'd probably like the subject, you always say how much you hate school. Might be good to take it slow." "True," he says, nodding a bit as he scrubs. "Plus," I add after a moment, "I'm happy you're staying." I feel my face get warm after I admit it out loud, especially because Dean glances at me for a few moments. "Not that it matters," I say quickly. "It's your decision." He stares at me for a little bit before bending over to spit and rinse his mouth. He sets my toothbrush down and says "It matters" before wiping his face with the towel and then gathering his clothes off the floor. "C'mon, Skeevy," he says with a little smirk. With my face on fire, I follow him back to our bedroom. "Do you think she finds it weird that we're sharing a bed?" I ask Dean when we step inside and I close (and lock) the door. "Nah," he says, tossing his clothes to the floor and then climbing right into the bed. He pulls the blanket half over him before looking at me. "You comin' or not?" I hesitate before coming over. However, instead of climbing in, I sit on the edge of the bed. So his decision concerning college has been made. Now there's one more topic to discuss. "Can we talk first?" He raises an eyebrow before sitting up and resting on his elbow. "About?" "Us." His expression doesn't change, but he does look away from me for a moment before sighing. "Right now?" he asks after a long pause, picking at the frayed edge of the blanket. "You said later. It's later." He sighs through his nose, nodding. "I did." "Okay," I say softly, scratching my neck. "So talk." He glances at me. "What do you want me to say?" "I just want you to be honest." He rolls his eyes. "What does that even mean--" "Just tell me how you feel!" I say impatiently. "About you?" "Yes!" He pauses, looking at me. "You know how I feel about you, Stevie." "No, I don't, actually," I say, shifting more towards him. "Like, we're cool, it seems like, but you're always holding something back, and we're not AS close as we used to be, and..." I sigh slightly. I don't want to go off on a rant right now. I want to hear what he has to say. "I just want my brother back," I mutter. "I'm right here, bud." "You know what I mean," I say quickly. He just stares at me, totally unmoving for nearly ten uncomfortable seconds before he speaks. "Please don't make me say it." "Say what?" "It," he says, nudging my hip with his finger. "I don't know what you're talking ab--" "I love you, alright?" he says, playing with the hem of my shirt. I shrug. "I love you t--" "Shut up," he says quickly, cutting me off. "I just mean... I love you, and not just in a... normal way, I guess. I don't even know anymore. It's been confusing, and it's still confusing, and I feel all guilty and fucked up over everything that's happened and I still don't know what the fuck to do about any of this." My entire body feels warm. And I feel anxious. I guess he hasn't made a decision yet as to what he wants to do with me. Or, rather, us. He confirmed his feelings, that much is sure. But the rest? I hate that he feels so guilty. It's like the first time, when I gave him a handjob after that frat party. He was really fucked up over that for a bit. But now he's coming to terms with his feelings, which probably brings a whole separate sense of guilt. He keeps talking. "I wanted you to come with me this weekend because I thought it'd help me decide one way or the other. Y'know... What we should do. If, after I figure out where I wanna end up in like five months, I could just be a normal, ...appropriate kind of brother to you." I look at him and urge him to continue. He bites his lip slightly before saying "And I'm now realizing that I can't do that." We know each other in and out at this point. Even though we don't know exactly what the other is thinking, we know how our brains work, how our moods swing, what we like and what we don't, what we're comfortable with. Because of the heightened degree of intimacy, we know each other's bodies too. We know how to make each other feel good, where we like to be touched, what makes the other cum the hardest. We know each other. And I think he has finally figured out that we've irreversibly changed. There's no going back. At least, not right now. Not when we both don't want to give this up. "I love you too," I say. "Don't say that," he says, his face mildly red. "Why not? I mean it." He sighs slightly, resting fully on his side, still playing with the hem of my shirt. "You could make this easy for me and just say you don't want me like that anymore." So he wants an out. That makes sense. If I reject him, he'd find it easier to "get over me." Then he could move on, be normal, and try not to think about his little brother the way he's been doing. But he knows I want him. And I want him to make sure he knows. "But I do," I say. "I miss it all the fucking time. I miss us being totally open, and being there for each other, and I miss... you know... doing stuff with you," I add quietly. "I don't regret any of it. And I don't want you to feel guilty about it." He smiles slightly but keeps his eyes on my shirt. "I miss doing stuff with you too." He sighs. "I don't know. This is crazy." I play with my fingers. "I'm not asking you to like, be my boyfriend or anything," I tell him. "I don't want anything extra. It doesn't have to be crazy. I just want it to be us." Dean bites his lip. "Just you 'n me, yeah?" "Yeah." He glances up at me. "Like before?" I smile and nod. "Just like before." He seems to think on it for a while, nodding slightly to himself before he looks up at me. Then he laughs slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I realize I'm smiling (maybe a little too much), and I bite my lip slightly before speaking. "Sorry." "Don't apologize to me," he says softly, looking up at me for a long moment before he sits up. I can feel my heart thudding in my throat as he slides closer and lifts his hand to the back of my head. I feel his fingers getting in my hair and rubbing my scalp lightly as his eyes scan my face. Then, he applies pressure to the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. When our lips connect, my eyes flutter closed and I kiss him slowly and deeply. He pulls back gently just to take my glasses off for me. He folds them, sets them on the nightstand, and then goes right back to kissing me. I could cry. That's how good this feels right now. His lips on mine, his hand on my head, us slowly kissing back and forth. I needed this. I slide a little closer to him and he shifts one of his legs out of the way as to make room for me. I get between his legs a bit, my hand resting on top of his thigh, which is still covered by the sheets. I inch my way up, and when I get close to his crotch, I move my hand directly there and paw at his cock through the fabric. He groans against my lips and pulls back slightly, taking hold of my arm. "Stevie..." He sounds like he's about to try and stop me. Is he having second thoughts again? "Please?" I quickly insist, looking at him. "Please, Dean." He glances at my lips, and then my eyes before he leans in and gives me a soft peck. Then another. I lean in heavier and the kisses get a little more tongue-filled. I work my hand back against his crotch, and even though his hand is still on my arm, he doesn't stop me this time. I grab at the hem of his boxers and tug, and he gets the signal. I move onto the bed more as he shifts onto his knees, straddling me. I sit in front of him, practically eye-level with his crotch, and I lick my lips. He's hard already. Good. I tug his boxers down enough for his cock to swing free, and I get chills when I wrap my fingers around it. Goddamn, I missed touching him. I stroke him slowly a few times before my mouth (which is watering like fucking crazy) is desperate to taste him. I lean in and lap at the head, eliciting a nice soft moan from Dean. I glance up at him as I take the head into my mouth, but I'm so lost in the feel of him that my eyes automatically close in pleasure. Fuck yes. I take him deeper, letting my tongue swirl around just like he likes. His fingers get into my hair again and guide me down more, and I feel the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. I grunt a bit before focusing, bobbing back and then sliding back down onto his shaft. I take it slow, relishing in the taste and feel of him in my mouth and throat. I make sure to make myself audibly choke a few times. I know Dean likes that. I slowly pull off his cock, licking my lips and swallowing spit before I kiss down the underside of his shaft and then work his balls over. I lap at them individually, feeling his warm cock resting against my face. I slide my hands up the back of his thighs, grabbing at his ass a bit, and he grunts slightly. As I suck on his balls, I tug the waistband down to expose his ass before I give each cheek a proper squeeze. When a few fingers tease a little too close to his hole, he moans but then pulls my hand away by my wrist. I can't help but grin a little. "Easy," he says. "Don't be scared," I tease. He makes a face. "I'm not scared." I glance up at him slightly. "So when are you gonna let me fuck you?" He laughs. "How 'bout never?" "Oh, come on. Why not?" "Because I don't want to," he says, shifting his hips so that his cock slaps my face. "You aren't curious?" I ask, snatching my hand out from his grip to take hold of his cock. "Hell no." "It's only fair," I say, kissing the tip of his cock. He just smiles. "Not really. You were built for taking dick, Stevie," he says, leaning down and giving me a slow but lewd kiss while holding the sides of my face. When he lets go, he starts tugging his underwear off completely. "I'll let you eat my ass though." I raise my eyebrows. "Really?" "Yeah. My treat," he says with a grin, tossing his underwear to the floor. I roll my eyes, but I'm excited. "Am I the first to get this honor?" I joke. "Oh no," he says cavalierly, moving to lie on his back. He puts his hands behind his head, totally naked for me. "I've had a few chicks toss my salad before." "Gross," I say with a laugh, hating the way he said that. Whatever. "Roll over," I say. "No," he says, spreading his legs slightly. "Do it here." "You're so difficult," I say before spreading his legs extra wide out of spite. "Ow," he says with a laugh, adjusting his legs again so that one of them is bent. When I move onto my stomach, he lifts one of his legs over my shoulder. I hold the back of that thigh and push back to get better access. I lift his balls out of the way before diving down. My nose presses into his taint as I extend my tongue and lap close to his hole. He moans out a bit, shifting slightly. "Fuck," he says with a soft laugh. "Hold your leg for me," I tell him, and he obliges, grabbing that leg by the back of his knee and keeping it up so that I can focus. I go back down and run my tongue slowly over his hole. He lets out a long, low moan that ends in another laugh. "I forgot how good this feels." "You're welcome," I say, giving him another long swipe of my tongue. I repeat this a few times, and the more I do it, the more Dean lifts his leg. It's a bit of a strain on my neck to do it in this position, especially since I can't easily give him a proper rimjob, but all the same, he's enjoying this. Which means I'm enjoying it. I dart my tongue out, flicking it rapidly over his hole before blowing some cool air on it, and he responds with varied moans and grunts and groans. I don't realize I'm grinding into the mattress until he tells me how much he loves "that mouth of mine." It makes my cock ache. I'd love to do more, like tease him with some fingers, but Dean has other plans. He shifts quickly all of a sudden with some borderline-pro-wrestler move, where he ends up straddling my face with his knees pinning my arms down. He grins down at me, slapping his cock against my face a few times before shifting off of me. "Get up, kid," he says, and I sit up on my knees as well, facing him. He grabs the hem of my shirt and tugs it off of me before kissing me deeply, his tongue running eagerly against mine to get his taste. I hold onto his sides as he kisses me and runs his own hand right against my bulge. I let out a little whine, and I feel him grinning against my lips before he pushes me (a little aggressively) down onto my back. I fall back with a grunt, about to protest until I notice him leaning down to start pulling my pajama pants off. He slides them down my legs, pulling them off my ankles and then tossing them to the floor before moving his hand right to my crotch. He runs his thumb across my cock through the fabric, and I moan a bit. He continues to tease me while staring at my groin with a curious expression before finally leaning down. He rubs his face against my crotch and then opens his mouth and very gently bites at the outline of my cock all the way up to the head. I groan slightly but my eyes are completely fixed on him. He bites his lip as he peels my underwear off, his eyes glued to my dick as he works my underwear off my ankles. I feel so exposed under his gaze, but he doesn't say anything. He just leans down, running his tongue over my cock before taking a hold of it and wrapping his lips around the head. "God..." I moan, my hips raising slightly. With his free hand, he uses his palm to apply pressure just below my belly button in order to keep me down, blowing me at his own pace. I try to stay still for him, but my cock is so sensitive right now. Every movement of his tongue, every time I hit the back of his throat, every slurp and kiss and groan from him feels like heaven on my dick. The pleasure courses through my body like a soft warmth. He's working me over with smooth motions, letting his tongue really explore each inch of me. And then he moves off my cock to go lower. He easily gets his hands to the back of my thighs lifts my legs back to expose my hole to him. It happens so quickly that I can still half-feel his mouth on my cock, like a phantom blowjob or some nonsense. But I totally forget about that feeling as soon as his tongue hits my hole. Of all the things we've ever done, this might be my favorite: Dean eating me out. There's something so intimate about it. Maybe it's how intently Dean always rims me, like he's starving. Maybe it's the almost incomprehensible pleasure I get from his talented mouth. I reach up and grab his hair, tugging him into me more before I shift my focus to my cock and start stroking quickly. At this angle, if I were to cum, I'd nut all over my face. He has me almost upside down, which makes it easy for him to control me. He has me where he wants me, and he can go as deep inside me as he likes and spit on me as much as he wants. I feel his saliva dripping down my spine, even. Eventually he lets go of my legs and my ass falls back on the bed, bouncing once. He crawls over me, getting between my legs as he moves his mouth right to my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access, moaning softly, feeling him grind his cock against mine. "Don't leave any marks," I pant out. "I'll do what I want," he says, sucking on my neck harder just to prove a point. I groan out, grabbing his hair and tugging harshly. "Bastard." He winces but then grins, shaking his head out of my grip before kissing me hard on the mouth. He keeps his lips planted firmly against mine, reaching between us to grab his cock. I feel the head of him sliding over my balls, my taint, and then finally, my hole. He finds what he's looking for, and then quickly pushes forward. I yelp slightly against Dean's lips, clutching onto him tightly as Dean slides into me. Just a little more spit would have been nice, but he doesn't seem to care. He pushes in until his crotch hits his fist, and then he moves his hand out of the way before pushing more of him into me. Fast. Within a second, the rest of cock is buried in my ass, and I whine out, breaking the kiss. "Dean," I groan. Fuck, that hurts. "Sorry," he says, pausing and waiting for me. He kisses my chin and jaw gently. "Got too excited." "Try not to kill me, please," I groan, taking a breath. "Shhh," he says, but smiles slightly, pecking my lips. He pulls out of me quickly and then moves back down, resuming the earlier rimjob. I moan out, automatically spreading my legs for him. His tongue laps at my hole before he gets purposefully sloppy with it, making sure I'm nice and wet. Then he sits up between my legs again and spits a decent amount of saliva onto his cock to lube himself up a bit more. He lifts my leg, rubs his cock head against my hole a few times, and then slowly pushes into me. It goes in much easier now, and I let out tiny moans as he gets deeper and deeper. Finally, he bottoms out. He grinds slowly into me, as deep as he can get, and I whimper slightly. I hear him chuckle. "Better?" "Y-yeah," I say, licking my lips. Then I feel him slide his fingers around my cock and start to stroke me. The pleasure is almost blinding, but I grab his wrist, opening my eyes to look up at him. "Stop stop stop!" I say. "I'll cum!" "Alright, alright, sheesh," he says, letting go and laughing a bit before leaning down to kiss me once. Then, he starts moving his hips. He keeps his body close to mine as he gives me slow, calculated thrusts. I watch him lick his lips as he slowly picks up the pace, like shifting into next gear. He lets out a sexy, low-tone moan and I feel my torso get goosebumps. This is how it's meant to be. The two of us. I feel whole again as I hold onto him and feel him reach deep inside me over and over, stretching me out just right. Dean's eyes flicker up to mine and hold for a moment before he kisses me deeply, giving me slightly harder and longer thrusts as he moves his mouth against mine. I feel his hands on me, one of them sliding up my arm to hold the side of my neck before he moans and pants out "God, I fuckin' love you, Stevie" against my lips. I'm sure I'm blushing like crazy, because my face is on fire. As is the rest of my body. Dean bites playfully on my bottom lip before grunting. His pace is quickening at a faster rate, the bed starting to shake ever so slightly. I let out tiny moans and whimpers every time he thrusts deep into me. Soon, his hand slides between us again, grabbing at my cock with a firm, knowing grip. "Cum with me," he says, looking into my eyes. I just nod. I can't say anything because I'm practically already there. The look he gave me mixed with the heaviness of his voice doesn't help one bit. I bite my lip, my body tensing. Dean senses that I'm close, and he strokes me faster, in time with his own thrusts. And then finally, blissfully, there's that sweet release. I let out a small, quiet cry as my cock pumps out a load with the help of Dean's hand. In the midst of it all, I feel Dean press in deep and then grunt as he fills me up with his cum. He gives me a couple sharp thrusts as he cums before relaxing and holding himself there as he catches his breath. "Christ," he breathes out, holding himself up over me, and I smile slightly, feeling good. Better than good, really. I feel fucking amazing. I run my hands over his chest lightly, then up to his shoulders. "You've ruined me, Stevie," he says. I look up at his face but I see that he's grinning. "Sorry," I say, blushing. "What did I say about apologizing to me?" he asks before kissing me gently. Before he can pull away I wrap my arms around his neck and keep his lips against mine. He laughs slightly before lowering his body onto mine and letting the kiss continue. It's slow and deep and intimate and sensual and I am in heaven, just lying here with Dean still inside me. The kiss gradually ends, and we're both smiling against each other softly. Then, he shifts, wrapping his arms around me and flipping us over. I gasp in surprise before laughing, ending up on top of him. Dean sighs, relaxing. "That's better." "What?" "I felt like I was crushing you," he says, putting his hands behind his head. "Maybe if you lost some weight..." I tease. "You really wanna start with me, shrimp?" he says with a grin. "I'm kidding," I say, kissing his chin. "You're perfect." He smiles a little before puckering his lips. That's his way of silently asking for a kiss, and I happily oblige, leaning up more to kiss his lips once. "Mmm," he says, licking his lips before closing his eyes and just relaxing. I watch him for a bit. "What are you thinking about?" I ask. "Nothing," he says. "Absolutely nothing." He moves one of his hands to my back, rubbing it softly. "Just enjoying this." Then his hand moves down to my ass. "And this," he adds with a squeeze. I slap his arm away and he just laughs, kissing me. "Why? What are YOU thinkin' about, huh?" I shrug. "I don't know," I say, biting my lip before I speak again. "Do you think we would have ever gotten to this point if it wasn't for that video?" It's been on my mind lately. If it weren't for Ricky being a total asshole, rumor wouldn't have reached Dean's ears about me sucking dick on camera. And he wouldn't have showed me that initial kindness that also led to him being vulnerable with me and showing me his talent. I guess, in a way, I owe Ricky. Dean thinks about it. "Probably not," he says. "You really don't think it would have happened eventually?" "Nope," he says, shaking his head. "Not even a slim chance?" "Are you kidding?" he says with a laugh. "We fuckin' hated each other." I giggle. "I guess," I say with a shrug. "You were pretty awful." He looks at me with a little grin. "You ever think about me? Before all this, I mean." I make a disgusted face. "No." He laughs. "Liar." "I mean... A little, maybe," I admit. "But it wasn't that long ago." "Tell me." I blush. "Remember when you came home drunk, first day of school?" Dean nods. "When I brought you to your room, you weren't wearing underwear when I stripped you down. And I saw your dick up close for the first time." "Seriously?" He laughs, resting his other hand behind his back again. "Did you do anything?" "Hell no," I say as if it was obvious. "But you wanted to," he adds with a little smirk. I roll my eyes. "Well, did you ever think about ME?" "Fat chance, little bro," he says with a self-satisfied smirk. "I don't believe you." "You were an annoying piece of shit. I hated your guts." "So not even the thought of hate fucking me crossed your mind?" I ask. He opens his mouth to speak but then pauses, thinks about it, and says "Okay, maybe once or twice," he says with a smug grin. I burst out laughing, shaking my head. "I hate you." "Mmm, there you go again, telling more lies," he says with a grin before licking his lips. "Nothing but the truth," I say with a slight smile before leaning up to kiss him softly. He hums against my lips and I feel the vibrations tingle throughout the rest of my body. For moments like these, nothing else matters. Absolutely nothing. It's just my body against his. There's no one but us in the world. Nothing but love between us.