Date: Tue, 28 May 2019 17:30:31 -0400 From: RJ Subject: Brothers at Arms - Ch. 8 Brothers at Arms by RJ This story involves the relationship between two brothers. If you do not like themes of incest or adult/youth, do not read this story. 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 8 ~ (Dean's POV) I'm fucking panicking, and I'm not the type of guy who panics. I can't fucking believe how stupid we were to think we could get away with downing a whole bottle of vodka and fooling around in Stevie's room. One second, I'm on cloud fucking nine, even with my little brother's finger up my ass, and the next, I'm freaking the fuck out. It's like my worst fear has been realized: we've been caught. It was a split-second thing that felt like a fucking eternity. Dad had looked in on us through the doorway for only a moment, and his eyes widened before he walked away. He said nothing. Not a single thing. It happened so fast that my drunk ass could have imagined it, but Stevie saw him too. Only one word was running through my head: "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck." "You gotta talk to him," I tell Stevie, pacing back and forth while he just sits on the bed a little too casually for my comfort. He looks at me skeptically. "Why the hell do I have to do that?" "Because! I don't know! Tell him... Tell him you started this. Clear my name or some shit." He snorts. "Clear your name? Seriously?" "He's gonna think you're the fucking victim in this, Stevie," I point out, pausing in my pacing to stare him down. Both of us are in states of semi-undress. Shirts are still on, but we both pulled our underwear on hastily after we were caught. "But I AM the victim," he says with a coy little smile. I don't hesitate to swing. It's not a particularly hard slap, but I hit him right across the top of his head. "You really wanna fucking joke around right now?" He rubs the top of his head, wincing. "Can you relax?" "Don't fucking tell me to relax!" "He didn't say anything--" "NOW," I interrupt. "He didn't say anything NOW, but what about later?" Stevie sighs, looking away before I lean into him, talking a little quieter. "You gotta talk to him, Stevie," I say, resting a hand on his thigh and giving it a squeeze. "Please." Stevie just stares at me. I wonder if he can read the anxiousness in my eyes, because I'm sure it's there. I don't know if it's the alcohol or what, but I am so fucking stressed about this. What's Dad thinking right now? Probably that I forced my little brother into a sexual relationship... Though that was the old us. We used to fight all the time, but it's clear that Stevie and I have gotten along for a while now. Fuck. I don't want to think about this. Stevie has to figure it out. He's way closer with our parents than I am. He's the only one that can say anything. He nods a little bit and says "Okay." I sigh, only a tiny bit relieved. "Okay." I stand up straight, waiting for him to move. "You gonna go?" He blinks. "Now?" "Yes, now." He laughs. "Fuck no," he says, squinting at me. "I'll do it later." "But--" "I'm not doing it now, Dean," he says, and I just groan a bit before relenting. Fine. Later it is. Maybe even tomorrow. But I'm not waiting around for that. I look around the bedroom. Did I bring any of my shit up here? "What are you doing?" Stevie asks. "I can't remember if I brought my keys up here," I say, trying to think. But I can't focus. All I'm picturing is Dad's shocked facial expression. "You're not leaving, are you?" I hear Stevie ask me. "Hell yeah I'm leaving." They must be downstairs still. I think Stevie and I only brought our bodies up here. "You're drunk!" I turn to Stevie. "I can't stay here," I tell him before moving to the door. "You're not going anywhere," he says, and before I reach the door, he blocks my exit, standing in front of it like a barricade. I see him reach behind himself to turn the lock on the door. "Move, Stevie," I say with a sigh. "You'll get yourself fucking killed," he says. "I hate when you do this." "I'll be fine," I tell him, putting a hand on his shoulder to move him out of my way. But he slaps my hands away. "No." "Stevie, I swear to God--" "You're staying, Dean," he says a little more forcefully. I'm surprised by the edge in his voice, and somehow, it gets through to me. "Fine," I mutter. "But I'm leaving early. Before he gets up." "You're just gonna ditch me?" "I'm not gonna go far, dipshit," I tell him. "I just can't be in the house." Stevie relaxes a bit before nodding. "Fine." Then he steps forward and takes my hand. I try to pull away from his grip but he's got his fingers between mine. "Let go--" "Stop fighting me," he says, tugging me over to the bed. I give in, letting him pull me back into his bed. He turns to face me and then grabs the hem of my shirt. I grab his wrists. "What are you doing?" "I just want to sleep," he insists, and I stare at him until I believe him. I let go of his wrists and let him take my shirt off of me. I look at him as he runs his soft hands down my torso slightly, feeling out the muscles before he smiles up at me and then pulls away to get under the blankets. I set an early alarm on his bedside clock and then join him under the sheets, letting him cuddle up to me like we usually do whenever we sleep together. He drapes his leg over my crotch and rests his head against my chest as I hold him to me. I close my eyes and try to relax, almost annoyed at how cozy he feels right now. Little bastard. I knew he'd get me into trouble one day. The alarm is so fucking loud that I practically jump awake. My eyes shoot open and my arm swings over to the nightstand to shut the alarm off. Then, silence. Once that initial shock wears off, I feel sleepy again, but I need to get up. I need to get out of here. But something's missing: Stevie. He's not in bed with me. I look around the room and call out his name but don't get an answer. That's when my ears start to hone in a bit better. I can hear the shower running, and I swear under my breath. Little shit. He couldn't have waited? I was hoping we could talk before I took a drive, but I'll leave him to deal with Dad however he sees fit. I pull myself out of bed, grab my clothes, and quickly get dressed before slipping quietly out of Stevie's room. I head downstairs, my priority being to grab my keys and my shoes and my phone. My wallet's already stuffed into my back pocket, so I'm good there. When I get to the living room, though, I notice something: the liquor bottle. "Shit," I whisper. We should probably hide the evidence, right? Maybe I'll just take it with me and keep the empty bottle in my car for the time being. "Want some water?" I nearly jump out of my fucking skin. I drop the bottle in surprise, but thankfully it doesn't break, because I'm too focused on the sound of my father's voice to deal with it. When I turn around, Dad has a newspaper in his hand. Fuck. I thought I'd gotten up early enough. "Um. No, I'm good," I say. I try to read his expression, but it doesn't look any different than it usually does. What's he thinking right now? "You sure?" he asks before his eyes flicker to the empty bottle of mango vodka on the floor. I bend down and pick it up. "Sorry." He shrugs. "It's alright. Just don't tell your mom," he says. Usually when he says that, he smiles as if we're sharing a secret. This time though, his face is borderline expressionless. "Right," I say, holding the bottle in two hands. I don't know what to do right now. Should I just leave or something? I want to. I feel incredibly uncomfortable, because I'm sure all he's getting are flashes of my dick in his youngest son's mouth. Christ. "I'm gonna head out, I think." He raises his eyebrows. "Without your brother?" "Uh..." "He said you two were going to leave this morning." I blink, confused for a moment. "You talked to him already?" "Yes," he says, eyes still boring into me. I swallow. What does that mean? Did they talk talk? About what Dad saw last night? Then he says "A lot, actually." That basically confirms it, right? I don't know what I'm feeling right now. Touches of embarrassment, shame, fear, anxiety... Nothing good, that's for sure. Honestly, I feel a little nauseous standing in front of him. Or exposed? I'm not sure. "What did he tell you?" I ask. Dad doesn't say anything for a solid ten seconds. It's like we're having a staring contest. A battle of wills. Then, finally, he speaks up. "I'm concerned," he says, not answering my question. I hold onto the bottle a little tighter. "About?" "You two doing what you're doing," he says. I wince. It's so awkward knowing that he knows. What the fuck did Stevie tell him? Did he admit that we're basically a fucking couple? God, what the hell does Dad think of us now? What does he think of ME? "Okay," I say, unsure how do go about this conversation. He sighs slightly through his nose, relaxing his body a bit for the first time this morning. "I know it's too late to stop you guys," he says. "You're gonna do whatever you want." I can't help but agree with him -- especially on behalf of Stevie. That kid will make sure he has me one way or another, and I doubt whatever Dad said to him during their conversation deterred him. "But you're much older than he is, Dean." My face is getting red, I'm sure of it. "I don't--" "Let me finish," he says, just barely holding his palm up. I keep my mouth shut and let him speak. I've never been so quick to listen to him. "You're much older than he is, and I know Stevie seems mature, but he's still young and still impressionable," Dad says. "It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt." Is that what he thinks this is? Fun and games? Stevie must have told him something along those lines -- which is, all things considered, a pretty smart cover-up. "Fun and games" is easier to explain than something that's way more romantic. But Dad's comment brings up an interesting point: does he think I'll end up hurting Stevie? That's what it feels like he's implying. After all, I'm the adult here. "Just don't mess him up," Dad says. "That's all I wanted to say." On one hand, the assumption that Stevie would be the ruined one in this scenario kind of hurts my feelings. It feels like a slap to the face, in a way, because it makes me feel like I'll always sort of be the bad guy in my parent's eyes. But at the same time, I understand. Stevie IS way more impressionable. I've proven myself to be tough and relatively thick-skinned, and there's no denying that Stevie is a bit of a soft boy. Plus, things are finicky at that age. So, in response, all I do is nod. He seems to think that's satisfactory and then raises his newspaper as his way of saying "I'll be outside." Then, he heads out to the back porch to relax. I, on the other hand, collapse onto the couch and exhale so deeply that I almost get dizzy. Fucking hell. I can't believe this. Now someone knows about us. And it's our own fucking father. But, he didn't seem mad -- not that he gets mad, ever. Still, I would have thought he'd be a little more expressive than usual. Maybe expressionlessness means he's angry. I don't know. All I know that he doesn't necessarily approve of what we're doing, but he's not going to stop us. So, in some sense, he must be okay with it... About five minutes later, Stevie finally comes down the stairs, hair wet, surprised to see me on the couch. "There you are," he says, looking around before asking if I'm ready to go. "I've BEEN ready to go," I tell him, eyeing him. "I ran into Dad." Stevie's eyes go wide. "Shit, sorry. I should have warned you." I just sigh heavily. "Whatever," I say, lifting myself off the couch and then putting a hand on his back to lead him towards the front door. "Let's just get outta here." "Wait," he says, shying away from my touch. "Lemme say bye to Dad first." I wait for Stevie in the car. It only takes him a minute to say goodbye to Dad before he's out the front door and heading straight to the passenger seat. I watch him as he hops in, and as soon as the door is closed, I back out of the driveway and head back towards my apartment. Stevie starts talking about a crazy dream he had last night, but I'm not listening. I'm too focused on the short discussion I had with Dad, plus his implications. It's all that's on my mind. So eventually, when a question pops in my head, I interrupt Stevie. "What did you tell Dad?" He glances at me, pausing. "I told him that I came onto you," he says. "You did?" "Yeah. And that I'm in that curious, experimental phase and whatnot." I'm surprised but thankful that he tried putting most of the blame on him. "That's it?" I ask, glancing at Stevie. He just shrugs a bit. "Pretty much. Oh, and I told him it's happened a few times so that he didn't seem too suspicious." It was a smart move on his part, but I'm not sure if Dad really believed him. "What did he say?" Stevie stays silent for a moment, but I realize it's because he's thinking. "Nothing, really, now that I think about it," he says. "He just asked me questions." "Hm," I say, and I leave it at that. I can picture it pretty clearly, Dad mulling things over as he asked Stevie question after question without giving his real opinion on the matter. "Why?" Stevie asks. "What did he say to you?" I clear my throat. "He told me it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt." I feel Stevie staring in my direction for a few moments before he says "Weird." Dad's words still have me thinking. The last thing I want to do is hurt my little brother. I've done enough of that over the years, and now that we're at a good place in our relationship, I don't want to fuck it up. I don't want to fuck HIM up. "Do you think I'm messing you up?" I ask after a few moments of silence, using Dad's words. I hear Stevie snort. "Huh?" "Do you think I'm messing you up?" I repeat. "I don't get it," he says. I just sigh through my nose. "Never mind." "No, tell me," Stevie insists. I just focus on the road more. "Forget it." "Dean..." he says gently. I glance at him as I'm taking a turn before I swallow thickly. "Is this really what you want?" I ask him. I wait for Stevie to respond. It takes him a second, but then he says "Pull over." "Seriously? I'm not gonna pull--" "Pull over!" he insists. I sigh in frustration before checking my mirrors and then quickly parking on the side of the road. I turn my head towards him, my left arm draped over the wheel. "What?" I demand. "What's this about?" he asks, looking up at me with a concerned tone that softens me up a bit. I just shake my head. "I don't know," I say. "I'm getting all... reflective." "Did Dad say something specific?" I shrug, even though the answer is yes. "He said he's not gonna try 'n stop us 'cause we're gonna do whatever we want." Stevie smiles a little. "True." I smile too before I speak again. "Then he told me not to mess you up." Stevie squints a bit, and I offer more context. "That you're still, like, young and impressionable or whatever." He looks down for a moment, clearly thinking. "I mean, I get that I'm young," he says, "but I don't think I'm impressionable. I'm more mature than you are," he teases. I grin a bit, shoving his shoulder. "Fuck you," I say, making him laugh for a moment. But then I sigh. "I don't know. I get what he's saying." "...Which is?" "I don't want to like, fuck up your idea of like... love." He almost laughs. "Dean, you're everything I want." I feel my face getting hot. "Don't say that." He shrugs but continues anyway. "I'm not stupid," he says. "I know we have a... weird relationship, but I know you love me. And you love me fiercely, and that's all I need." I can't help but get the sense that he's talking way beyond his years. But he's always been like that. "But, we still have to like, sneak around all the time, y'know? Keep it a secret." "I don't care," he says immediately. But what if he changes his mind? What if he wants something more... real? Maybe that's not fair to say, though. It's not like we're not real. "You might later on," I tell him. "I don't care, Dean," he repeats. "But--" "Stop trying to push me away." I gulp. "I'm not." Then he leans in a bit. "Do you still want me?" "Yes," I say, without hesitation. He smiles. "Then we're good." "But what if--" "Shut up," he says, grabbing my shirt and tugging me into him. His lips find mine and we hold our mouths against each other for a solid ten seconds before pulling away gently. He reaches up to cup my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. "I'm happy, okay?" Fuck this kid for making me feel like I want to cry. But I hold it together, just smiling slightly before pushing him away. Playfully, though. "Whatever," I say, sitting up straight again. But I see that knowing smile on his lips before I veer back onto the road. Once Stevie and I get back to my apartment, we mostly relax. The embarrassment of getting caught by Dad has mostly worn off, so by the time we put a movie on and cuddle, I'm pretty comfortable with my brother again. Ten minutes in, we're not even watching the movie -- we're making out. He sits on my lap with his hands in my hair and my arms around his frame as we kiss slowly, deeply, sensually. But there's no real intention to end with sex. I think we just want to feel each other. I let my hands wander, too, even cupping his little ass as he moans against my lips. He knows I'm hard. I'm sure he can feel it against him. But it's all about kissing right now. Then my phone vibrates in my pocket. Once. Then again, ten seconds later. Then again a minute after. I sigh against Stevie's mouth before breaking the kiss. "Who the fuck--?" Stevie smiles slightly before moving his thigh off my leg, reaching into my pocket, and pulling my phone out for me. I take it, checking the texts even as a few more come in. When I groan, Stevie asks who it is. "One of my coworkers," I say. "What do they want?" "She wants me to take her shift," I tell him. It's last minute, since her shift starts in less than an hour, but it's an emergency. "Her dad's in the hospital, I guess." "Then you should go," Stevie says. "I worked all fuckin' week," I complain, slumping a bit. I'm too tired. And I don't want to stop kissing Stevie. But he's not having it. "Take the shift," he insists before pecking my lips. "It's the right thing to do." He's right, of course, but it's still fucking annoying. Regardless, I give in, telling Sara I'll take over for her tonight. "I better get some good fuckin' karma for this," I mutter, pushing Stevie off of my lap. He laughs. "That's not why you should do it, asshole." I flick his forehead with my middle finger. "Fuck off," I say, standing up. "You gonna wait up for me?" I ask, adjusting my crotch. "Shift ends at ten." He bites his lip, smiling. "Of course I will." I smile, reaching forward to fix the adjustment of his glasses before nodding. I head for the bathroom first. After a quick shower, I change into some clean jeans and my Target polo and then head out. Stevie shouts from the living room that he loves me, and I just shut the door, off to work with a smile on my face. Even though it's nice to get the extra hours in, I don't want to be at fucking Target, especially as a cashier. It's my least favorite part of my job. I'm honestly surprised they even let me be in direct contact with customers considering I'm quick to snap back when someone is rude to me. Thank God it's a slow night, though. There aren't too many people shopping tonight, and everyone I deal with has been pretty polite, save for one or two dudes and a bitter-looking old lady. The shift goes by even more smoothly after Stevie texts me halfway through saying that he has a surprise for me when I get back. I grin when I look at the text. A surprise, huh? As I ring up another customer, all I'm thinking about is what kinky surprise Stevie probably has waiting for me. Something special, I bet. Handcuffs? Blindfolds? A cute little outfit? Maybe some sort of striptease? Or maybe he's just craving a good old-fashioned fucking. I'd be fine with that. Anticipating sex at the end of the night is what makes the shift go by a little faster, somehow. I thought I'd be antsy, but I'm calm and much more polite to customers than I'd normally be. I'm not really ever a dick for no reason, but tonight, I'm just going the extra mile, saying shit like "Have a great night, ma'am" and offering to forgive the extra twenty cents someone owes. Before I know it, it's ten o'clock, and I close out the register and leave a few of my coworkers to close up the building before heading straight to my apartment. When I enter, Stevie has a bunch of tea candles overflowing in his hands. I grin a bit, guessing that he's going for a more romantic evening. He looks up at me when I step inside and smiles. "Hey!" "Hey," I say, eyeing him. He doesn't have anything special on -- just his underwear and one of my old t-shirts. "How was work?" he asks. "It was alright," I say, locking up before putting my hands together. "So what's this surprise?" I ask, wanting to jump right into it. Stevie laughs, looking me up and down. "Take your clothes off," he says before heading into the living area and starting to set out candles strategically. Gladly. I discard my polo first, then my jeans, and I'm about to pull my underwear off when Stevie stops me. "No, leave that on," he says. I squint. "What? Why?" He thinks about it for a moment before shrugging. "I guess you can do it naked," he says softly. Now I'm confused. Are we not having sex? "Do what naked?" "Yoga." I snort. He can't be serious. Yoga? But then I notice the two mats that are placed in front of each other, lying between the couch and the coffee table. "You're serious?" I ask. "Yeah," he says, smiling. "You want me to do fucking yoga?" "It'll be good for you," Stevie says, setting down the rest of the candles. "Trust me." "I don't want to do yoga, Stevie." "Please?" he asks, coming over to me now. He looks up at me with that puppy-dog look of his, taking my wrists in his hands. "You said you had a surprise for me." "This IS a surprise for you," he says, being playful with his physical affections. "Yeah, but I thought you meant something... sexy." I can't help but feel disappointed. And a little irritated. Yoga? Really? "I put a lot of research into this," he says, poking my stomach before he wraps his arms around my midriff as he looks up at me. "It'll help make you better." Better? "I'm fine," I say defensively. But he just gives me a look that says he knows otherwise. "Just try it," he says. "Stevie, c'mon--" "Try it and we can have all the sex you want tonight." He drives a hard bargain, this kid. I look at him for a moment, and then I grumble before rolling my eyes. "Fine," I mutter. He laughs a little before kissing between my pecs, taking my hand, and guiding me into the living room. I let him put me in position, and I sit down on one of the mats before watching him light all the candles and then shut off all electric lights. Then, he grabs my Bluetooth speaker, hooks up his phone to it, and starts playing very ambient music mixed with nature sounds. I roll my eyes a bit but try to take this somewhat seriously. "Do some light stretches," Stevie says as he sits in front of me. "Like what?" "Anything." He does some quick stretching of his triceps, shoulders, back, and various parts of his legs, so I follow suit, copying some of his movements. "What's the point of this?" I ask as I stretch my arms. "To help with your anger and whatnot," he says. At first, I feel a touch offended, but then I just feel like this is nonsensical. How is yoga going to help control my emotions? But maybe I should keep an open mind. Stevie's the smart one, after all. So, I stretch. Even this tiny amount of stretching makes me realize how sore I am, and I feel my body loosening up a bit. Once we go through some simple stretches, we start with a "cooling breath." We sit Indian-style with the backs of our wrists on our knees and curl our tongues in a weird way before we breathe in through pursed lips and exhale through our noses. Stevie says to close my eyes, but I'm watching him. At first, I think he's just fucking with me, but he looks calm and composed. And serious. I follow his instruction through the breathing before we go to the poses. For an hour, we do shit like the half-twist pose, the back bend (which Stevie has to help me with), and the shoulder stand. Those in particular are strange to hold for so long, and I don't really get much out of any of them until we hit the last pose: the corpse. I just lie on my back with my palms up and my arms at my side. Stevie says this pose is all about focusing on each part of my body, one by one, and relaxing. Feet, shins, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, chest, shoulders, arms, hands, fingers, neck, and then head. He walks me through each part of my body, and this time, I actually feel myself deflating, in a weird way. Like I'm "letting go" of something. I feel lighter, more peaceful, and I just lie there and breathe slowly. "How are you feeling?" Stevie asks me softly. "Good," I say truthfully. "I told you." "Yeah, whatever," I say, smiling. I hear him shift but I stay right where I am, eyes closed. "Thanks for having an open mind," he says, and I feel him nudge my ankle with his fingers. "I know it's not your thing, but I really think this'll help, if you keep doing it." I can't promise that I'd keep up with yoga on a regular basis, but I do like the corpse pose: simple and effective. "I'll try," I say. I feel Stevie rub my ankle lightly before he shifts again. As I open my eyes, I see him crawling over me, and I grin as he gets closer. He rests his body on mine very gently. "You don't think I'm annoying, right?" he asks. "You're not annoying, Stevie." "You can tell me if it was stupid and you hated it." I chuckle a little. "I'll be honest... The only one I liked was the last pose." He rolls his eyes. "Figures," he says, and I laugh again. "At least something worked. Do you feel... I don't know..." "Different?" "Sure." I shrug. "I definitely felt relaxed with that last one. Like, really relaxed." He smiles. "Well, then, my work here is done," he says. "No it's not," I tease, and he looks at me curiously before I kiss the air a couple times. He laughs before taking that as his cue and then leaning down to press his lips against mine. I hum softly, sliding one arm from the back of his thigh to the small of his back. Slowly, I make my way up his shirt, holding him to me lightly. After the corpse pose, half of me doesn't really want to move. I'm too comfortable, especially now with Stevie's weight on me. Even as the kissing gets a little deeper and I feel Stevie's boner nudging against my stomach, all I can do is move my arm. "Mm, I don't wanna get up," I tell him. "Then don't," he says softly, nipping at my jaw before kissing my collarbone. Then he makes his way down. "Just relax." I grin a little, eyeing him before keeping the back of my head against my mat as I enjoy the feeling of his lips slowly working their way lower, and lower, and lower. Once he gets to my underwear, I feel him add fingers too. He hooks them into the waistband before gently tugging them off my hips, all the way down to my ankles. Once he gets them completely off, I feel his soft, warm hands slide slowly up my legs until fingers grip the base of my cock. I grunt softly as he picks my semi up, giving it a few firm squeezes until I sense his hot breath near the head. Then, slowly, his mouth takes me in. I moan softly, my toes curling just a bit as he starts sucking gently and working his tongue around my glans, quickly bringing me to hardness. "Stevie," I say breathily, as if in my sleep. I hum gently, noticing how (since my whole body is relaxed) all my senses are focused on my cock. All I feel is his lips and his tongue lovingly blowing me. It's this perfectly wet warmth taking me over completely, swallowing me and licking me and kissing me. I feel his fingers too -- sometimes they grip my thigh, or my balls, or the base of my cock. Sometimes he just lightly holds my cock up, teasing my sensitive head with soft brushes of his thumb. Then he moves lower. He kisses across my balls before lifting them out of the way, and I immediately know what he's going for. He nudges my legs apart before I feel his finger searching for my hole again -- just like last night. This time, though, he's adding some tongue along with it. While he slowly strokes me, he sticks his tongue out and glides it slowly against my hole, and I groan in pleasure, spreading my legs even more. God, that feels fucking good. I sigh heavily, my body still nice and relaxed, the sensations at my hole heightened to a new level. It feels fucking electric, and I'm incredibly sensitive to the movements of his tongue without feeling the need to writhe. It's perfect, so warm it almost feels hot. He drags his tongue over my hole repeatedly before giving me that same treatment with one of his fingers. And it's a tease, too. He just lightly drags his finger across my opening, and my breath gets caught in my throat a bit. I feel Stevie nuzzle into my balls and breathe me in before he asks me a question. "Can I fuck you?" My eyes snap open and I look down. "What?" "Please?" he asks, nudging the side of his face into my crotch as if being all cute. "You're all relaxed and everything. It's perfect." "I don't know, Stevie," I say skeptically. I'm surprised I'm not just flat out denying him. "I've never topped anybody before," he says. "I know." "So it'd mean a lot to me if you'd let me," he says, smiling while he rests right on my cock. I roll my eyes. Bastard. I think he knows I'm going to give in. I'm too relaxed and his finger felt too good last night and he's looking too cute right now for me to say no to him. Maybe this was his "surprise" all along -- to hypnotize me through yoga and get a crack at my ass. Is that a thing? "Fine," I mutter super quietly. "What?" "I said 'fine'," I say, not looking at him. Stevie gasps, crawling quickly up my body to look at my face. "Really? You'll let me?" He's being such a little kid about this looking as excited as he does. "Don't make me change my mind," I warn him. "Sorry," he says, biting back a smile. "Let's go to my room," I suggest. "I'm not tryna get butt-fucked on the floor." The yoga mat is nice and all, but it's thin, and hardwood floor is not exactly comfortable to lie on. "Okay," he says cheerfully, hopping off of me. He offers his hand and I take it, letting him help me up to my feet. I grunt a bit, steadying myself for a moment. Now I really feel my weight and all the blood pulsing through my body. I want to be horizontal again, so we head straight into the bedroom. "Wait," I say before he gets on the bed, and he looks at me curiously before I hook my fingers around the hem of his shirt and pull it off his body. He smiles, watching me take his underwear off too, and I chuckle at the sight of his hard on. I give it a playful flick with my finger before I grab lube from my nightstand and toss it to him. "How do you wanna do it?" he asks, looking at the bottle in his hands. Without responding, I climb onto the bed and rest on my stomach, barely raising my ass up. "It might be easier on your back," he says. "I don't give a fuck," I say. Frankly, I don't want him to see my face when he's penetrating me. It'd be easier to take it without him watching my expressions. I turn to him, beckoning him over. "Hurry up. Seriously, I might change my mind." He nods, quickly hopping on the bed and glancing me over before he gets behind me. "Do you want me to, like... rim you more and stuff?" "Just get it over with," I mutter. I want to be able to do this for him. I really do. But I'm afraid I'm going to back out at the last second if he takes too long to get this thing started. "Okay." I hear the cap of the lube pop open before I hear him coating his cock with it. Then he applies some right to my hole. I recoil slightly, not used to the cool sensation around my asshole, but he works it in nicely with his fingers. "Just relax, okay?" I resist every temptation to say "Don't tell me what to do" and just lie there quietly. Relax, Dean. It's fine. It'll be fine. I inhale and exhale deeply as Stevie mounts me, and I feel his cock nudging between my cheeks. My heart is pounding. I can't believe I'm fucking doing this right now. Penetration has always been off-limits for me, but... I guess things change, huh? Plus, I can't imagine giving it up to anybody else. Suddenly, Stevie pushes forward, sliding right into me, and I completely tense up. "Fuck!" I grunt, gripping the pillow tightly as I pull away slightly. "Goddamn it, Stevie!" "Sorry!" he says, apologizing for thrusting in way too fucking fast. "Fucking bitch." My hole fucking burns already. I try my best to relax, because I know tensing up is only going to make it worse. But damn, kid, you know how this goes. "Take it fucking easy." "I'm sorry," he says again, his hands on my hips. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, just-- Wait." I force myself to breathe in, then out, then in and out again. He feels way fucking bigger than he looks. Jesus Christ. How does he handle my dick so easily now? It's almost commendable. Impressive. In a weird way, I have this newfound respect for my little brother. But maybe it's just something I need to get used to. I give myself half a minute before nodding. "Go." He seems to hesitate before finally starting to move. I realize I just have to grin and bear it. I clench my teeth as his cock slides back and forth, my hole clamped tight around him. Christ, this is a lot. It's this weird, insistent intrusion that would almost feel kind of good if he didn't feel like he was trying to split me open. And goddamn, he feels deep. Every time he pushes forward, his pelvis presses against my ass, and his cock reaches new depths. Too deep, in a way. And if THIS feels too deep, I wonder what the fuck Stevie means when he's begging me to go deeper when I'm taking HIM from behind. I grunt, clutching onto the pillow with all I've got. Slowly, though, I start to get used to it, and I relax a bit more. And after a few minutes, I start to think "Hey... It's not that bad." And once I start relaxing my muscles and my mindset, I can listen to Stevie rather than focusing on my own body. He's letting out these huffy sorts of moans, panting slightly as he thrusts at a moderate rhythm. He sounds cute. I feel his hands mostly gripping my hips, though sometimes they roam. He seems to be trying to find a comfortable place to grab, like my shoulders or my sides, but he keeps settling on my hips. I spread my legs just a bit wider, and that simple movement lets him push forward even deeper. My eyes roll back in surprise. Holy shit. He's really fucking in there. I grunt, keeping my breathing constant and controlled. Just when I'm thinking that it almost feels good... "I'm gonna cum," he grunts. I look back at him. "Don't cum in me," I tell him, but all of a sudden, his face scrunches up and he presses his hips hard against me as he unloads. Goddamn it. I just sigh but let him finish, feeling him squirm and his fingers dig into my hips as he hits his climax. I exhale through my nose and rest my face into the pillow, waiting for him as patiently as I can. He collapses on top of me. I grunt, tilting my head around a bit as he catches his breath. "Whew," he says. "I told you not to cum in me," I say after a few moments. "Sorry," he says, and I notice how red his face looks. Is he tired, or embarrassed, or both? "It's okay," I say gently. Then I bite my lip. "Can you get outta me now, or?" "Oh." He laughs a little, lifting himself back up and then gently sliding out of me. I let out a little moan as he pulls out, watching him collapse on his back next to me with a smug little grin on his face. I smirk. "The fuck is that?" He looks at me, confused. "What?" "That shit-eating grin." He smiles again before shrugging. "I'm just feeling good. That's all." "'That's all'," I mock before nudging him and then rolling onto my side with a sigh. He looks at me. "How was it for you?" I shrug. "It was okay." Suddenly, he's smirking widely, shifting his body to face me. "You liked it," he teases, poking my chest. I feel my face get hot, and I just push him away. "Fuck off." "You liked it, didn't you?" he says, laughing and pushing my hand away. He slides closer to me again. "Admit it." "You didn't give me enough time to like it," I fire back, and that's the truth. It was a quick fuck, and just when I thought it was getting good, it was over. He blushes a bit but smiles, adjusting his glasses. "I'll do better next time." I roll my eyes. "Next time? Pffft." I roll onto my back with a groan and shut my eyes, feeling heavy again. I almost want to do another round of yoga if just to do the corpse pose. But Stevie distracts me by leaning over, his hand sliding right towards my crotch. I stop him before he reaches my cock, which is soft at the moment. "Don't." "Why not?" "You wore me out, kid," I say. I hear him chuckle before he leans up, his lips near my ear. "Don't you want me to make you cum, big bro?" he whispers in a playful voice. Fuck. I swallow thickly, sighing before I slip my arm around him. Resist, Dean. You're too tired. "I want you to sleep," I say, even though his offer is incredibly enticing. But I really am worn out. "You sure?" "Mmm," I say in response. For the first time in my life, I'd rather sleep than get off. "Tomorrow. Wake me up with a blowjob or something." Stevie laughs. "Deal." He leans in again and kisses my cheek. "I love you," I say automatically, and I sense Stevie hovering. That's when I open one eye and see Stevie just staring down at me with a weird expression -- a goofy little smile with a hint of surprise in his eyes. "What?" "You almost never say it first," he says. "Fine, I take it back." "No, no," he says, smiling and getting closer as if to kiss me. "Say it again." I move my head away. "You're so annoying--" "Just one more time," he says, grabbing my jaw and making me face him. "Just one." I sigh through my nose dramatically before I look at him. "I love you, Stevie McAllister." He giggles in a cute, boyish way, looking like I couldn't have said anything better to him in that moment. "I love you too, big bro."