Date: Wed, 24 Apr 2019 15:52:27 -0400 From: RJ Subject: Brothers at Arms, Chapter 7 Brothers at Arms by RJ This story involves the relationship between two brothers, established in the first six chapters. For those who have been following the story since the beginning: note that the point of view has switched from Stevie to Dean. If you have any questions or comments about this piece, want to know about any of my other works, or just want to reach out, please don't hesitate to email me. A list of my works, including links and descriptions, can be found here: https://bit.ly/2S5IYDI. If you would like to be added to a mailing list for this story (or all stories) and receive emails about any updates, let me know. Please also consider donating to Nifty if you can: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html ~ CHAPTER 7 ~ (Dean's POV) Of course he's dragging his fucking ass. I find myself tapping my foot against the tar repeatedly, feeling anxious to get on with my day. I wanna yell at him for making me wait this damn long. Twenty minutes. Twenty whole fucking minutes. Little bastard. It's the last day of school, and the last bell rang before I even got here. The busses are gone. The hell is he still doing in there? Then finally, I see him come through the door in his little short shorts with one of his friends. Some dude I've never seen, but I don't care about him. I'm focused on my brother. "Stevie!" I shout, and he turns his head towards the direction of my voice. When he sees me, I can see his dumb smile bright as ever even from so far away. He rushes to say goodbye to his friend, giving him a quick hug before shifting directions towards me, where I'm waiting for him in the parking lot by my car. It's sorta funny watching him walk towards me, speed-walk, jog, and then practically sprint once he's close. "C'mere, you fucker," I say, and he basically jumps into my arms and I hold him tight, swinging him around. Goddamn it, Stevie, I've missed you. I've missed holding you. Feeling you. Smelling you. How does he always smell so good? It's been weeks since I've seen him. I didn't have the money to pay for some car repairs, which means I didn't have a car. It was hard to manage getting to and from my job on public transportation, but I made it work. It meant I didn't see Stevie, though, especially since he's been so busy catching up on assignments before the summer. It's been all texting and phone calls. So when I set him down, I bite my lip a bit, glancing around the parking lot. Looks like no one's around. I grab his shirt and pull him towards the trunk of my car -- I'm parked right under a tree, and the tree provides a little extra cover from anyone who might be looking at us from inside the high school. He grunts when I push him against the vehicle but moans as soon as I bring my mouth to his. This is what I needed. I kiss him hard, like I'm trying to make up for weeks of no physical contact. And because I'm still a little irritated with him for making me wait. But I have to control myself. We can't get caught. So I pull back, and he's all cute and red in the face before he adjusts his glasses. "Hey," he says with a soft laugh. "Hey yourself," I say before grabbing his shoulder and pushing him away. "Get in the car," I say with a grin. "When are you gonna learn how to be nicer?" he asks, making his way around to the passenger side. "You made me wait twenty minutes. Nice is over." I hop into the driver's seat with a grunt, starting the car as he slides in beside me. "I don't know why I put up with you," he says, a slight smirk on his face as he buckles up. I'm already peeling out of the parking lot, though. "It's 'cause you're cock hungry," I tell him, checking for traffic before I quickly veer onto the road. "I'm pretty full, actually," he says. I hit his thigh with the back of my hand and he winces. "Sorry," I say, having not meant to hit him so hard. "Now you have to hold my hand," he says, grabbing it before I can pull away. "Stevie--" "Nope. You promised." I groan slightly as I feel his fingers slide between mine, and as I drive, I let him hold my hand. He's right. I did promise. Any time I get a little too rough, I have to follow up with an "act of kindness." Though he specified that it has to be something affectionate -- usually physical. I put up a fight, because I hate being told what to do and how to act, and half the time, I loathe cutesy shit like holding hands more than anything, but right now? I like it. No way in hell I'm telling him that though. We've been "together" for a year now. Ever since I graduated last year, we spent a solid summer together at home. Hanging out. Playing video games. Fucking like crazy. Going out to weird music and art festivals. Fucking some more. But then school started up again for him and I moved out, got a job, and started some classes a few towns out. Even though I wasn't that far away, the separation was hard. I missed him constantly. Almost aggressively. Sometimes I'd lie awake in bed pissed because he wasn't there with me. But we made it work. Lots of messaging back and forth, sometimes talking on the phone (which almost always led to phone sex). We tried to plan visits as many weekends as possible. Holidays. Breaks. Any excuse to see each other. Or get my tongue in his pretty mouth. And now, it's summer again. And he's staying with me at my place. The thought both gets my dick hard and my goosebumps prickling. Just me and him for months at a time. I'll still be working of course, but the thought of Stevie waiting for me at home will make my long-ass shifts at Target way more bearable. We swing by the house first, and I park in the driveway but keep the car idle. "Go grab your stuff," I tell him, thankful that he had the sense to pack ahead of time. All he has to do is grab his bags and then we can get to my place. "You're not gonna come in?" he asks. "Just get your stuff, Stevie," I say. "It'll take me like two trips unless you help me," he says. I roll my eyes but cut the ignition. "Fine," I say, hopping out of the car. "But don't try anything," I add with a smirk as I follow him to the door. He pulls out his house key from his pocket. "Why, you in a hurry or something?" he asks. "I just wanna get this summer started," I tell him. I've been looking forward to this for so long that I've grown incredibly impatient. I'm antsy as fuck. "You think I don't?" he says, unlocking the door and stepping inside. "I guarantee you I've been looking forward to this more than you have." I doubt it, but I let him believe that. "Whatever. Hurry up," I say, giving his ass a slap. He yelps a bit and swats my hand away, blushing and laughing before we head upstairs to grab a number of bags, including clothes, some toiletries, electronics, and a few personal effects. We lug all his shit back to my car, and after he makes sure he has everything he needs, he says goodbye to the house. I honk the horn. "Let's go, you fuck!" He flips me off before joining me in the passenger seat. "I was saying goodbye," he says. "You're acting like you'll never see this house again," I say, rolling my eyes as I back out of the driveway. "You never let me have anything," he teases, buckling up. "I let you have me," I say, half-jokingly. "That should be enough." I catch him smiling at me when I'm in the road, and he leans over and kisses my cheek. "It is," he says, and I can't stop the smile from appearing on my face. It's not a bad drive to my place. It's just a hair too long even by normal standards, so I'm relieved when we finally get to my apartment. I live on the first floor, so it's as simple as parking and grabbing his shit and heading right in. It's a small space, but it has all I need, really: decent bedroom, huge closet, a kitchen with all the right appliances, a sitting room with a big ass TV (that I got discounted, thanks to my job). The bathroom is kind of shitty, and I'm still waiting for my landlord to follow through with his promise to renovate, but whatever. It's my own space. My own fucking space. Stevie hates when I leave it messy, so I made sure I cleaned up before he got here. And he looks impressed when we bring his things inside. "I think this is the cleanest I've ever seen it," he comments. "Glad you noticed," I say, tossing his bags on the couch. He follows suit and places everything on the sofa before he says he has to use the bathroom. While he's doing his business, I head into my bedroom to grab something I made for him. The real reason I've been so antsy to get back here. Our birthdays are coming up (we share a birthday, ironically enough), and we never do gifts... But this time, I wanted to do something special. I didn't think I could wait until our birthday to give it to him, though -- and honestly, maybe it's best if it's just a random gift. Seems more random and earnest that way. So I grab the little book off my desk and hold it behind my back until Stevie comes out of the bathroom. He goes straight into the kitchen to rummage around the cabinets. "Did you still have those Vitamin D tablets? I haven't been taking mine," he asks. "All the way to the right," I tell him, and he checks the last cabinet, finding the little bottle. "Sweet," he says, and I watch him pop the bottle open and dry-swallow a vitamin. I swallow too before saying "So, I have something for you." He looks at me curiously, and then notices I have my hands behind my back. "What?" "Just a little something." I bite my lip before showing him the book. He steps forward and takes it cautiously, glancing at the blank cover. I don't blame him for looking confused. On the outside, it doesn't look like anything. Just a solid, burgundy hardcover. No title. No nothing. "What is it?" he asks, leafing through the pages quickly. "It's a book of short stories," I tell him. And then I clear my throat. "Your short stories." He looks up at me. "Mine?" "Yeah." I compiled all the stories he's sent to me (and some that he didn't) into a small little booklet. It took me fucking forever to format it correctly, since I'm not that great when it comes to shit like that. But it came out great. I watch him open up to a page and inspect it more carefully as if to confirm that I'm not bullshitting him. "I also mighta sent it to a publisher," I add, scratching the back of my head. He looks up at me with wide eyes. "Seriously?" "I wanted to wait 'til I heard back, but... I don't know, I hate waiting for surprises," I say. What can I say? I'm impatient as hell. As he smiles at me, tears start welling up in his eyes. Immediately, I groan. "God, Stevie, don't fucking cry." Mostly because I don't want to cry either. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice shaky as he wipes his eyes. He looks through the book a little more intently, smiling widely. "I didn't know you actually read them." "Of course I read them," I say. "Why wouldn't I?" He just shrugs. "You supported me. I support you." He smiles, his eyes still watering. God, he's a fucking pussy sometimes. "I don't know what to say." "You don't have to say anything," I tell him. "I'm gonna hug you," he says, setting the book down on the counter, "and you're gonna accept it." I smirk slightly before rolling my eyes. "Whatever." "'Whatever'," he says mockingly before coming closer, moving my arms from my sides, and then wrapping his around me. Once his body touches mine, I melt a bit. I can't resist reciprocating and holding him tightly against me. It just feels fucking good to hold him. To have him hold me. Any physical contact is important to me. Then he looks up at me with his chin on my chest, smiling softly. His eyes flicker to my lips before he holds my gaze again. That's his nonverbal way of asking for a kiss. But he surprises me a bit by reaching up, grabbing the back of my head, and bringing me down enough for him to press his lips against mine. He's been getting a little more take-charge, I noticed. More initiative. Expressing slight dominance. Honestly... I don't mind it. A jolt of electricity runs through me when his hand finds my bulge. I grunt, breaking the kiss in surprise. "Gettin' handsy--" I start to say, but he gives my crotch a firm squeeze, and again, I grunt. "Stevie, Jesus," I say, pulling his hand away. "Like you weren't thinking it," he says, wrenching his hand out of my grip. "I wasn't thinkin' nothin'," I say, biting my lip. "Liar," he sneers, his fingers hooking right into my belt to hold onto me. "You really don't wanna fuck me right now?" I swallow. In truth, I wanted to take things slow this afternoon. Kick back. Maybe watch a movie, or catch up on things, and just cuddle a bit. But now that I have sex on the brain, there's no shutting that down. "Fine," I mutter, putting my hands on his hips and scooping him up easily. He's still so small, and he lets out a little yelp as I pick him up. "You asked for it," I say with a grin. He just smirks before kissing me deeply. I moan against his lips and then press him hard against the wall. He lets out a little grunt, and when he accidentally breaks the kiss, I go straight for his neck. Fuck, I'm hard already. This kid brings out the perv in me. The fact of the matter is that I have no business fucking a fourteen-year-old, let alone my little brother. But he fucks with my head, whether or not it's his intention. I don't know what it is. Don't know if I care to know, either. I pull him away from the wall and carry him into my bedroom before throwing him towards the bed, onto his back. He laughs, bouncing a couple times before he looks at me as I stand at the foot of the bed, grabbing myself through my pants. "Take your clothes off," I tell him. He licks his bottom lip before starting with his shirt. "What about you?" "Don't worry about me," I say, eyeing his body as more and more skin comes into view. First, it's his torso, smooth and milky. His nipples look extra pink today. Gotta make a mental note to play with those a bit. Then, he works on his taking off his shorts, undoing the clasp and sliding them down his legs. God, he's fucking delicious. Especially in those tight little briefs. He tosses his shorts to the floor before moving onto his hands and knees and crawling towards me. I grin a bit as he gets closer, anticipating his touch. He sits up on his knees first to deal with my shirt, and I let him grab the hem and slide my tee over my head. Then, he drags his fingers down my torso, making me groan and my cock twitch. Suddenly, he's all about taking his time. He undoes my jeans slowly, unfastening the button and pulling my fly down before letting my pants drop to my ankles. I stand there in my underwear, letting him put his face in my crotch and breathe me in. I think it's so hot how into my musk he is. Then he gets his fingers in the waistband and very slowly starts to tug my underwear down. As soon as my cock swings free he has his lips around it, looking up at me, trying to play all cute on me. I just run my fingers through his hair, moaning softly. Sometimes you forget how much you missed something until you finally get it back. That's what I notice about Stevie's mouth. This boy is skilled. He has complete control over his tongue and can take me into his throat with ease. And he's sucked me off so many times that he knows all the variations of what I like. Right now he's giving me the moderately-slow version: lots of tongue around the head, gentle deep-throating, and complete eye contact. I hold the back of his head and guide him deeper when he takes me in, grunting when he reaches around to grab my ass and steady himself. I glance down at his form, his slim backside arched with his ass sticking out so invitingly. I lean over and give it a firm slap over his briefs, feeling him moan on my cock as I grip one cheek. God, I want it. Suddenly getting head doesn't matter to me right now. I need his ass. I pull my hips back from his lips after a while, loving how disappointed he looks for a split second. But now it's my turn, kid. I have him sit up on his knees before pushing him onto his back and then crawling onto the bed myself. First things first: get this boy naked. I hook my fingers into his briefs and peel them off him quickly, tossing them to the floor. Something about seeing Stevie naked gets me so... hungry. I wonder if he knows what he does to me. If he really knows. I glance up at him before gripping his legs and having him hold them back. Then, I get to one of my favorite places on him: his ass. Specifically, that cute little hole of his. When I lie on my stomach, eye-to-eye with that pink opening, I give it a light stroke with my fingertip. He mewls when I pet it, and I grin, watching it twitch from the physical contact. Don't worry, Stevie. I won't make you wait much longer. I lean right in and plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his hole. Stevie moans out, egging me on as I run my tongue up and down and back up again. I love the noises he makes. It's so different depending on what I'm doing to his body. Where I'm kissing him. How I'm groping him. Right now, I'm treated to those moan-y sort of laughs. When it's so good you can't help but smile. That's what I'm giving him right now. I push my tongue into him slowly, looking up at him from between his legs. But he's not even looking at me. His eyes are closed and he's biting his lip right before I start to dart tongue in and out at a rapid pace. Then, he lets out a fluttery little moan, tensing his body up the faster I move. After several minutes of getting him good and ready, I give his hole one more good swipe with my tongue and then crawl over him with a slight grin on my face. "You make the cutest little noises." He blushes slightly, readjusting his glasses. "Don't make fun of me." "I'm not. I'm being serious," I tell him, leaning down to kiss him on the mouth. I bring his hand to my cock to show him how hard I am. It's because of him, after all. Who else do I get this boned up for? Stevie lifts his legs up a little more and tugs on my cock, trying to bring it closer to him. So I shift my body into position, letting him rub the head of my cock against his hole. Fuck, that makes my dick throb. I break the kiss, looking down at the movement, dripping slippery precum onto him before I shift my leg a bit and then push forward. He holds me in place against his hole until finally, I start sliding into him. At long fucking last. I moan out as I ease my way into Stevie. He lets out a gasp, holding onto my arms as I push forward and swear under my breath. So fucking tight still. I don't know how he handles it, but he takes it like a fucking champ every time. I look down, watching my thick cock sink into his willing little ass. It feels like I'm making my way home, the further I push into him. That's the only way I can describe it. Home. It's a cheesy fucking thought, but it's the truth. Once my balls press against his ass and we both moan out, I feel it. And I bet Stevie does too. I enjoy the moment only for a second. Then, time to get to work. I start pulling back slightly and then pushing forward, giving him a little more of my cock with each thrust. I stare down at his face as I wear him out, grinning slightly at his expressions. A little bit of discomfort, maybe surprise when I give him a good thrust, but mostly, his mouth is slack with pleasure. He's so fucking cute. Even his stupid glasses make him look adorable, perfectly round and off-center from him writhing around a bit. No wonder the little fucker is so popular at school. It makes me wonder if anyone else still tries to make passes at my little brother. He pretends it doesn't happen anymore, but I know better. He just doesn't want me to get mad. Or jealous. And he's right to think that. Fuck everyone else. I move my hand to his throat, pressing my thumb and fingers on either side of his neck. "Tell me," I say. His eyes open as he looks up at me. "Tell you-- mmf! Tell you what?" "That you've been thinking about me." "No," he says stubbornly. I reach behind his head and tug on his hair, keeping a firm grip on it. He yelps a little, clutching onto me more tightly. "Tell me, Stevie." "You already know I have," he grunts. "Yeah, but I like hearing you say it," I say, leaning over him more and giving him one extra-harsh thrust. He gasps out for a moment before swallowing thickly. "I always think about you." Good boy. "And what happens when you think about me?" I ask, not once breaking my stride. "I-- ah! I get... I get turned on." I lick my lips. "You get hard when you think about me?" He nods, whimpering. "You touch yourself thinking about your big bro?" "Y-yes," he gasps out. "Show me," I tell him, finally letting go of his hair. I lift myself up slightly, still working my hips into him but giving him enough room to reach between us and grab himself. Immediately, he starts stroking fast, and I grin, seeing his eyes close again. He loves me. I know that. Sometimes it's nice to hear that in a sexier way, though. "Dean," he whimpers, and I almost miss it because all I can hear are his moans and the sound of my balls slapping his ass. "What?" I ask. "I'm gonna cum." I lick my lips. "Okay," I say, leaning over and kissing his lips once before I sit up straight on my knees. I grab a hold of his sides and really let him have it. Long strides, deep thrusts, hard motions that make his whole body slide up the bed. He cries out, jerking himself off like there's no fucking tomorrow until finally, he cums. I watch his cock spurt out a load more like a fucking sprinkler than anything else. It goes everywhere. I watch in surprise, almost starting to laugh before I sense my orgasm sneaking up on me. So I focus. I lift his butt up a little more, putting a hand on the wall behind Stevie's head and going to town. For half a minute I piledrive him, telling him how much I fucking missed him with my hips. Then, just a few more thrusts, and I curse, holding myself deep as I pump him full of cum. It takes me a little longer than usual to come to because I haven't gotten off in two days. Which is almost unheard of for me. I rarely go a day without getting off twice. I don't know what it is, all this excess sexual energy. But I wanted to save a good load for my boy. I slowly pull out with a soft sigh before collapsing next to Stevie, resting on my back. Fuck, I feel good. Less tense, for one thing. I put my hands behind my head and smile slightly, looking up at the ceiling. "What are you smiling about?" I glance over at Stevie, who's looking at me all amused. "Nothin'," I tell him. "Just excited about summer." He grins. "Me too." He rolls onto his side, facing me. "I couldn't wait for school to be over." "Fuck school," I say with a laugh. Then, suddenly I remember something: "That little shit still giving you problems?" I ask, cocking my eyebrow. "No, he's fine," he says. "'Cause I'll fuck him up for you." I have no issues laying it down on some senior wannabe tough guy who thinks he can try and mess with my little brother. "I know you would," Stevie says with a laugh. "But I don't need you to go to prison." He reaches over and pats my chest. I smirk. "Just keep it in mind." "It's hard not to." Then he chuckles. "Remember Ivan?" Instantly, something flares up inside me. "Ivan? Why the fuck are you thinking about Ivan?" "Relax," he tells me. "I was just remembering the last guy you beat up for me. Even though he was YOUR friend." I don't know what it is. I get this (as Stevie puts it) "insurmountable rage" when someone fucks with him in any way. Someone that's not me. I just scoff. "He was a scumbag." "I was so pissed at you," Stevie says. "Do you talk to him at all?" I laugh. "No," I say. Isn't that obvious? "You never made up?" "There's nothing TO make up, Stevie." "It's been so long though," he says. I shrug. "Yeah but I can't look at him without seeing you between his fuckin' legs. So fuck him." He reaches over to stroke my cheek before patting it lightly. "My goal this summer is to make you a happier person." "Fuck you too," I say defensively. "I'm serious," he says, looking curious. "We gotta manage all this anger." "Just lemme blow your back out more often and I'll be fine," I say, starting to roll on top of him. He squeals a bit, quickly sliding away from me and hopping off the bed, out of reach. "You're disgusting," he says with a grin. I just smirk as I roll onto my back again, relaxing as I'm splayed out on the bed. Stevie looks at me for a moment before saying "Thanks again for the gift." I smile. "You're welcome." "It's... It's touching," he says, smiling brightly. "I'm still surprised you even read them." "Why?" "I don't know. You don't read." "Fuck you," I say again, laughing. "You know what I mean," he says, leaning over the edge of the bed. "If you wrote it, of course I'm gonna fuckin' read it," I tell him. "You could have told me that." "Well, I'm telling you now." I smile. "You're really good, by the way." He blushes. "Thanks." "My favorite was the one with the miscarriage," I say, thinking about that story in particular. It was a short piece, and didn't have much of a plot, but it explored the process of grief through a woman who had a miscarriage. I felt it. "That shit was sad, though." "Why'd you like that one?" he asks, seeming surprised by my choice. "It impressed me the most," I say with a shrug. "I didn't know you could be so..." What's the word I'm looking for? "Adult." "Mature?" he asks with a grin. "Whatever." He smiles at me for a moment before licking his lips. "I wanna hear some music," he says, turning away from me and heading towards the corner of my bedroom, right to my guitar. I groan. "Stevie, no." "C'mon," he says, picking it up and climbing back into bed with it. "Please?" "Can't it wait?" "Nope." He smiles all smug-like as he hands me the guitar. I roll my eyes before grabbing the neck and sitting up with a sigh. "Which one do you wanna hear?" I ask, messing around with the strings. Still sounds in tune. "The one about me," he says. "How many times I gotta tell you, it's not--" "I know, I know, but I like to pretend," he says, resting on his side and looking at me with a soft smile. Damn, he looks beautiful. Naked in my bed, fresh from a good fuck. It's not my favorite song that I've written. A little too cushy for my liking, but he loves it. And I'd sooner die than admit that it actually IS about him, so I just smile and shake my head fondly, letting him live the little fantasy as I start to sing. The first time that Stevie and I visit home is for our birthday. I don't know how it happened -- first it was supposed to be just an early dinner with Mom and Dad, but Stevie wanted to invite a friend or two after, which meant I had to invite a couple of MY buds to come chill too. Now there are a dozen or so of us all lounging around in the basement -- mostly my friends and a couple of Stevie's high school pals. It's sorta funny, seeing how young Ally still looks compared to the rest of us. But his other two friends, whoever they are, fit right in. One of them even smokes, so he hits it off with some buddies of mine after accepting their offer to smoke in the backyard. For the most part, everything's pretty mellow. We all mingle and chat while music's playing in the background, play a few rounds of beer pong (or actual ping pong), and drink. I snuck in a few cases of beers (that I bought myself now that I'm officially twenty-one) when I knew Stevie was having people over, so those are disappearing pretty quickly. But no hard liquor. I don't need people getting crazy when my parents are right upstairs -- especially my friends. Love them, but they're notorious for being (as Mom calls them) "hoodlums." "Hey," I say, stopping Stevie when he walks by the couch I'm sitting on. I've been chatting away with his friend Ally for maybe ten minutes now. I think she still has a little crush on me, and I can't resist milking it a bit. "Can you grab me another beer?" He arches his eyebrow. "What's the magic woooord--" "Now, bitch," I say, swatting at his hip. He dodges my swing with a giggle before heading straight to the cooler just a few feet from the couch. He looks back at me, sees me watching, and then bends over slowly, sticking his ass out. Fuck. I swallow thickly, finding myself transfixed. Oh, he's getting it good tonight. Then I see Pit enter my field of vision with his big, hulking frame. "Yo, Dean," he says, standing near Stevie, a beer in his hand and his eyes looking bloodshot from smoking weed. "You didn't tell me your little bro had such a tight ass." Then, his hand swings and makes a smacking noise right off of Stevie's backside. The fury that I feel is instantaneous. I want to beat the fucking shit out of him. I want to pummel him into a grave. Even as a couple guys laugh at what was clearly a joke, I'm ready to fucking fight. I stand up so quickly that I get a little dizzy, but I'm still about to step forward, ready to charge. Something happens, though. Stevie turns around and, without a single moment's hesitation, puts all his weight into a swift punch to Pit's big ass nose. For a minute, everything freezes. No one makes a sound except for Pit, who's whining like a little bitch, one of his nostrils streaming blood. And then, I start laughing. Cackling, actually. Holy shit, Stevie. I didn't know you had it in you. Once I start laughing, almost everyone joins me in some way, both shocked and amused by what just happened. "You little fucker," Pit grumbles, standing up straight and about to round in on Stevie. That's when I step in. I block his access to my brother, glaring down at him. "The fuck you think you're doing?" Pit tries to stare me down, but I know him. He's a pussy. "You see this?" he says, pointing to his nose dripping blood onto his shirt. "Yeah," I say with a slight grin. "Looks good." "Fuck you, dude," he says before eyeing Stevie, who's poking his head out from behind me. "You should go," I tell him, cocking my head towards the backdoor. Pit blinks at me, looking betrayed. "You're just gonna let him punch me?" Is he kidding? "Would've been me if he hadn't hit you first." He laughs in disbelief. "Seriously, bro? It was a joke--" "I don't give a fuck," I say, now getting mad. He knows this. Everyone knows this. I've made it an explicit rule with all my friends who meet my brother: you touch him, I fuck you up. Pit got off lucky. "Now get the fuck outta my house." Pit seems to be debating whether or not he wants to challenge me. I almost dare him to. Square up, Pitty. But as I squint down at him threateningly, he gives up, mumbling to himself before he turns on his heels and walks out the backdoor. It's satisfying to see that no one follows him to console him or take his side. Once he's gone, a bunch of us start laughing again -- even somewhat praising Stevie for a solid strike. I turn around and smirk at my little brother, patting his shoulder. "Nice form." "Learned from the best," he says teasingly, poking my stomach, and I swat his hand away before laughing. "We're out of beer, by the way. And soda." Damn. I was hoping there would be at least another beer for me. I only had two. "There's more soda upstairs," I say, remember seeing a couple liters in the fridge. "Be right back. Don't punch anyone else while I'm one," I add, tousling his hair before I take my leave. I hum a bit to myself as I head into the kitchen, still smirking about Stevie's encounter with Pit, but when I'm hit with the smell of the pies baking, suddenly that's all I'm thinking about. My mouth starts to water. Dad makes some killer pies, and Stevie and I requested those instead of cake tonight. I lick my lips as I head to the oven, ignoring the sodas for a minute to check on the pies. I open the oven door and let the scent of those beauties take me to high fucking heaven. I swear it's like taking a hit of something. So fucking good. "Hey! Back off!" I shut the door hard out of surprise and exhale with relief when Dad comes into the kitchen grinning at me. "Sorry," I say, laughing. "Smells good, doesn't it?" he says, having me move aside as he puts on an oven mitt to check the crusts. "I couldn't resist," I say, my stomach grumbling. Damn, I want a slice. "They almost done?" "Maybe another ten minutes or so," he says, shutting the oven. "They look like they're doing okay." "Hell yeah they do," I say, and he smiles at me as he sets his oven mitt down. "Keep an eye on 'em for me, alright?" he asks. "Gonna go check on your mom." She wasn't feeling too hot all day and only came down from her bedroom to have dinner with us when Stevie and I first showed up. We shared a nice, home-cooked meal between just the four of us -- kind of like old times, but without any bickering. "Sure thing," I say, and then I clear my throat, catching him before he walks away. "Hey, so, thanks for dinner tonight. It was nice." He looks at me, both pleased and confused. But I get it. I haven't been the type to thank my parents for anything. "Yeah, of course," he says, smiling. "You're welcome here at any time. You know that, right?" "Yeah," I say, smiling a bit. I didn't, actually, so it's nice to hear. I think getting closer to Stevie has made me better around Mom and Dad. I still always get the sense that there's a little bit of animosity between us, especially between me and my mom, but that's because we have a long, drawn-out history of being at odds. Things are better than they used to be, anyway. And I think they're at least proud of me for getting my shit together. I'm focusing on my studies, making money, I have my own place... "Maturing," I guess. So it's nice to spend time with them without any of us getting into a verbal brawl or feeling like I'm disappointing them for the millionth time. Just then, we hear footsteps bounding up the stairs, and soon Stevie steps into the kitchen, glancing at the both of us. "What's taking you so long?" he asks me. "I'm on pie duty," I say with a chuckle. "That you are," Dad says before saying he'll be back in a bit. He heads out of the kitchen, and we hear him head up the staircase to go check on Mom. Stevie opens the fridge to grab two of the liter bottles of Sprite before setting them on the counter and standing next to me. "Having fun?" I nod. "Yeah. So far, so good," I say before I look him up and down with a slight grin. "You shouldn't have punched Pit." He looks at me with confusion. "Seriously? YOU'RE gonna lecture ME?" I smile. "Don't get me wrong -- it was badass, and he deserved it," I say. "But I don't want you ending up like me." "I'm not gonna end up like you," he says with a smile, standing between my legs and lightly pressing his body up against mine. "But it was kind of a rush." I roll my eyes. "This is where it starts." Stevie laughs. "Relax, I'm kidding. I just got tired of him. And he's gross." "He is kind of annoying," I mutter. I glance towards the oven and then try to move Stevie so that I can check on the pies. But he stops me. "Let me suck you off," he says in a quiet voice. "What?" I ask, blinking. "Let me blow you." Already his hands are going to my belt. "Stevie, the fuck?" I say, laughing and grabbing his wrists. "No." "C'mon," he whines, trying to grab at my belt again. "I'm all full of energy. I need to relax." "So sucking dick is gonna help you relax?" "Sucking YOUR dick," he says with a grin. "Keep it down," I say, glancing towards the door to the basement. I don't think anyone is coming up the stairs, but damn, we don't need to risk anyone hearing us. "Just a quickie," Stevie begs. "It'll be fun." "No." "But I'm horny," he says in a whiney voice. I slap his hand away before he can grab my groin again. "Not right now, Stevie," I say, being firm. "Wait 'til later." He groans a bit. "Fine," he says, looking weirdly distraught and giving me the slightest pout. I hate that his fake-upset look always works on me. "Don't gimme that," I say, sighing. But he just maintains his expression and even sways on the balls of his feet a bit for an extra bit of flair. Fuck this kid. I hate him. "You're gonna get me in trouble, I swear," I tell him, grabbing his chin and planting a deep kiss on his lips. I keep it quick though, playfully pushing him away before anyone can catch us. "Happy?" He gives me a bright smile. "A little bit." "Good. Now fuck off, I'm supposed to be watching these," I say, pointing to the oven and waving him away. He just giggles a bit, grabbing the sodas and bringing them downstairs while I make sure the pies don't burn. Dad comes downstairs before the pies are done, and they still have to cool once they are, so we spend a little time just chatting between the two of us. Mostly I ask him how he's been doing since I don't exactly know much. It's not like we talk too often. Apparently, he's had another career change, switching from teaching to writing exclusively for some big-name newspaper that I've never heard of. Regardless, he seems to like it. Gives him some "flexibility" in his schedule. I tell him about Stevie's writing, and the book I made for him, but Dad already knows about that. Guess Stevie was quick to tell him about that. He just gives me a smile and tells me how touched Stevie was, and how thoughtful of a gift it was. "I gotta say," he adds, "I'm proud of who you're becoming." At first, to me, it almost sounds insulting. Did he hate who I was before? But the rational part of me understands that I was a difficult kid, and always have been, and that it should be no surprise he approves of my current trajectory. I remind myself to be grateful for the encouragement. Once Dad feels that the pies are cool enough to serve, I call everyone upstairs for dessert. We all stand around in the kitchen, dining room, and living room, slowly going through the pies and the ice cream cake Stevie and I brought over. As always, Dad's apple pie is fucking phenomenal, and I end up bodying a whole half just by myself. We all hang around for another couple of hours, but eventually our numbers start dwindling as everyone decides to head home one-by-one. Once they're all gone, Stevie and I take it upon ourselves to clean up the mess downstairs and in the basement so that our parents don't have to tend to it in the morning. Thankfully our friends aren't terribly messy. Mostly it's just picking up the beer bottles around the basement and making sure the dishes are done. But in the process of cleaning the kitchen, I find a skinny bottle of mango vodka, nearly-full. I hold it up and grin at Stevie, and he bites his lip a bit. "Mango?" he asks, reading the label. "Do you think it's good?" "No idea," I say. Fruit-flavored vodkas are completely hit-or-miss. "Lemme try it." I pop off the cap and hand him the bottle. "Just one sip," I say. He sniffs the contents tentatively before taking a quick swig. I'm surprised because he doesn't recoil from the taste. He just smacks his lips a bit before looking up at me. "Holy shit." "Is it good?" I ask, and before waiting for an answer, I say "Gimme that" and grab the bottle. I take a bigger sip than he did and find that it does down incredibly smoothly. Almost too easily. "Shit, dude." "It's reeeally good," he says, licking his lips. "Let me have another." I smirk, taking a swig before passing it back to him. "One more," I say. But one sip turns into two, which turns into several shots once we start passing the bottle back and forth after nearly every sip. Soon we migrate from the kitchen to the living room, taking turns with the bottle, and before I know it, we're giggling and joking and chatting on the couch as the bottle gets steadily emptier. 50%... 25%... 10%. "We're gonna have to stay here," I say at one point, rubbing my forehead. Damn, I got drunk fast. Stevie seems excited suddenly by that prospect, grabbing my hand. "Let's sleep in my room," he suggests. Thinking nothing of it, I let him pull me to my feet as we head upstairs to Stevie's bedroom, leaving the near-empty bottle downstairs. I make a mental-note to replace the liquor tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll forget. I smile when we enter his room since it looks like he never really moved out. Still a bunch of nerdy shit on display, bed still tidy, not a single article of clothing on the floor. I stumble in with a laugh, and I end up falling on the bed when I trip over my own goddamn feet. He's quick to take advantage of me, though, already straddling me and pressing his lips against mine. It happened so fast that I almost get dizzy. Or maybe I'm just drunk and my reaction time and awareness is totally fucked up. Regardless, my hands automatically go around him, and I have to use every bit of restraint I have to break away. "Slow it down," I say, laughing as he keeps trying to kiss me. "I'm so fucking horny, Dean," he whines, and I believe him. I can feel his woody poking my stomach when he grinds forward. I snort. "Have you been pitching a tent this whole time?" "Don't make fun," he says. "Sorry," I say, still laughing slightly. Then I give his ass a grab. "Get off me. I can't breathe." He rolls off of my stomach and I inhale deeply, feeling a little less suffocated when I sit up. Maybe I just shouldn't lie down. Why did we come up here? To sleep? Or to fool around? I glance at Stevie as he just grins up at me. I turn, standing and bending over the bed as I lean back into Stevie, resuming our kissing as his legs hang off the edge of the mattress. He holds the back of my head as my own hand slides up his leg and to his crotch. I give him a little grope, noticing how stiff he is. He lets out a little mewl before breaking the kiss. "Can you suck me?" he asks suddenly. I arch my eyebrow. "Seriously?" "Please?" he begs, his hands on my shoulders. "You haven't done it in a while." I just stare at him for a minute before I roll my eyes. "Fine," I say, spreading his legs. "Whip it out." He grins and hastily undoes his little short-shorts, tugging his underwear away from his groin to reveal his boner. It's sticking straight up, probably at its maximum hardness. I grin a little, flicking it with my finger and watching it twitch but otherwise stay in place. I chuckle, but Stevie's not having it. "Don't do that," he says with a whine. "Shut up," I tell him, covering his face with my palm and pushing him back so he's lying down. Then, I move my lips to his cock. He pushes my hand off his face just as I take him into my mouth and suck on his cock slowly. He's grown since we first started fooling around. Now he fills my mouth more as his cock grows in proportion to the rest of him. It's like my boy is finally growing up. He tries to hold the back of my head but I move his hand away, working him at my own pace and keeping it deep and deliberate. He may be growing up, but his moans are still the cutest thing I'll ever hear. I pull off slowly and then go straight for his lips, kissing him deeply as I climb onto the bed more and rest my body on his. I love when he wraps his legs around me, sometimes tugging me even closer, asking for more body contact. But this time, he reaches around and uses his hands. He grips my ass, and in response, I grind into him a bit while we kiss. Then he does it again. And again. And then, he reaches his hands right into my jeans to try and get a good grip on each cheek from the inside. I break the kiss, looking down at him. "What are you doing?" I ask. "Just playing around," he says, being purposefully vague. "You're pushing it--" "Relax," he says. "I won't do anything crazy." I sigh. "Fine. But don't put any fingers in or I'll fucking kill you." "Duly noted," he says, roping me in for more kisses. I get lost in his mouth, slowly grinding against him as one of his hands goes back into my jeans. He grips my underwear and tugs on it, pulling it as if trying to give me a light wedgie. The thing is, I kind of like that feeling. The fabric sliding against my hole feels kind of erotic. I keep grinding into Stevie a bit, keeping the kisses sloppy and tongue-filled as he gets a little more daring. I feel his hand quickly slip into my underwear, his fingers exploring until they find my hole. I let out a moan. I want to stop him, but... Fuck, that feels nice. He's just rubbing it gently, only applying a little pressure, but the contact feels fucking great. Especially since I'm drunk. Now all those good feelings are just spreading throughout my entire body. I'm pretty sure I'm getting chills right now, particularly when Stevie leans in more to suck on my tongue in a very suggestive way. It's got my dick throbbing, that's for sure. And he knows it. He moves both hands out of my pants, reaching between us to undo the button on my jeans. "Roll over," he mutters as he unzips my fly and reaches in to wrap his soft fingers around my hard-on. Without even thinking, I move onto my back and let him get in between my legs. Even though I'm a little dizzy again lying down, I'm distracted by him pulling my cock out. He gives it a few good strokes before tugging my jeans down more -- only mid-thigh. Just enough to (assumingly) continue what he was doing with his finger. Guess I was right to assume. As his mouth gobbles up my cock, his fingers slide across my taint, searching for my hole. I can't spread my legs with my jeans caught at my thighs, so I have to push him back and get my fucking pants off before he can get back to work. I hold the back of his head as he leans back down and takes me into his sweet mouth again. I close my eyes, feeling him bob up and down slowly. It's such a weird feeling, getting head when you're drunk. It feels almost numb, more like a tickle, but because I know how good it is when I'm sober, I'm all for it still. Soon, his finger returns. I spread my legs a bit almost automatically, even somewhat lifting one of them so that his index finger can rub me properly. As he drools over my cock, he scoops up his saliva to use on my hole, making the petting smoother. Fuck yeah, that's nice. He's lucky we drank that vodka. Otherwise I would have said no to this. I don't trust him not to stick a finger in. And I was fucking right not to trust him -- because after a while, I feel him push forward. I'm about to knock him in the head when I realize how easily his finger slips in. And, annoyingly, how weirdly good it feels. It's a strange sensation that's somewhat uncomfortable but also... really nice somehow. So I let him. I let him rock his finger back and forth. Stevie pulls off of my cock and I hear him say "I knew you'd like it." I hit him in the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up," I say, pulling him back on my cock. I moan, holding my dick up as my hand guides him lower onto me, right down to my fingers. Once he has enough of my dick in his mouth, I remove my hand and start working my hips into it. We follow a nice rhythm of him fingering me in time with my motions. Fuck yeah. This is making my toes really curl. I could nut like this, easily. I could fill Stevie's mouth with the cum he's been craving all night. I could. But something stops me. A presence at the door. Both Stevie and I pause when we hear something knock on the door. Someone. There's a slight gasp, and we both turn our heads towards the entrance. And everything freezes as Dad stares at us in shock. Fuck.