i. I never will forget those nights

 

Nick touches you constantly. This is nothing new. He'll hug you and lift you in the air and hold you upside by his legs until it's a blood rush to the head that's dizzying and fun and totally innocent. Lately, you miss those innocent rushes. Because now the only blood that rushes when Nick touches you is to your southern region. Part of growing up, you tell yourself. Except no girl makes you feel this way.

 

    ii. nobody on the beach
 
 
Nick gives you the brightest smiles, like he could light up the world with them, and everything and everyone else around you both melts away. You love the way he focuses on you; love the devoted attention. Most kids your age can't stand their brothers, yet you live for these moments. Of course, most kids your age don't jerk off while imaging their brothers either, so perhaps any comparisons are pointless.
 
You're both at the beach, alone, no parents, and no sisters, hardly anyone really. It's breezy and cool, and certainly not a day for it. But Nick says he hasn't just relaxed at the beach for a while and wanted to go. You think he'd never leave if possible.

 

 You don't hear him come up behind you, and suddenly arms are wrapped around your neck and you his body flush against yours. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the shivers up and down your spine. You hope you aren't visibly shaking.
 
He kisses your shoulder and just rests there, hovering above you, staring out at the water. And this is wrong, it's so wrong. What brother does that? If you were 8 or even 10, okay. But you're 14. You're supposed to hit one another, curse and say things like 'fag!' when something like this occurs. That'd be -- normal.
 
But it's never been that way. Ever. And you don't want it to be. You just -- don't know what to do anymore.
 
"You okay, Bro?"
 
His voice is warm and vibrates against your ear. God. No, you're really not okay.
 
"Y-yeah. Just. Looking at the ocean."
 
"Mm. Thanks for coming with me."
 
"Sure."
 
Nick strokes your hair and it's soothing and wonderful and you can almost forget the tingling in your belly. Almost.
 
"You cold, baby?"
 

Baby. Again, nothing knew. He's been using that endearment with you for as long as you can remember. You never thought to question it. Maybe, if you'd had a normal childhood and gone to grade school and talked to other kids on the playground about their families, they would have informed how that was kind of strange, but this is all you know.

 

You figure if Mom and Dad and the girls have never found it weird, why should you. Your brother is just this wonderful, affectionate guy and you're the sick one for making it into something it's not, in your mind.
 
"Aaron!"
 
You shake yourself and disengage from him, telling yourself it wasn't just an excuse to get away. "Huh?"
 
He laughs. You love his laugh. "You zoned on me, dawg. Asked if you were cold. You want my jacket?"
 
"Nah, I'm good, dude."
 
He looks at you, through you it seems, and suddenly you're terrified he'll figure it all out. But he just nods and shuffles his feet in the sand.
 
You look anywhere but at him, hating this awkward feeling that's settled over you. It's not supposed to be like this. Not with Nick.
 
"You're never this quiet, man. Come on, what's on your mind?"
 
Stupid mindreading bastard. "Nothing, Nicky."
 
"Ahh. I know what it is," he grins and nudges your shoulder. "A girl, huh?"
 
You fight the urge to laugh. "No."
 
"A boy?"
 
Your head snaps around so fast you get whiplash. "WHAT? N-no!"
 
He's still grinning stupidly. "Come on, dawg, we have no secrets, right? It's cool if it's a boy. You're 14, have fun."
 
"It's ... I ... did .. you?"
 
"With guys? Well, yeah. I thought for sure you knew about me and Howie, hell you walked in on us once."
 
"You said you were wrestling!"
 
He ruffles your hair. "Boy, were you young." And he smiles so sweetly and doesn't even make fun of you. You really love him.
 
You're planning your next sentence when he wraps his jacket around your shoulders. "Come on, it's getting late."
 
You walk back to the house in silence, the heat of his palm on your back radiating through you.

 

     iii. remember how you made me crazy?

You go to Nick's part of the compound. You love being there, just the two of you, no one to bother you. You spent the whole walk back trying to wrap your mind around all this. Maybe you'll grow out of it. Maybe it's nothing at all. But it doesn't feel like nothing when he touches you. You never want him to stop.  
 
"You want something to eat?"
 
"Hmm? Nah, I'm cool."
 
He laughs from his place at the fridge. "Man, whoever this kid is, you're smitten over him."
 
You sit on the couch and let out a deep breath.
 
"Nicky?"
 
"Yeah?"
 
"You ever ... want something you shouldn't?"
 
You hear the fridge close and there’s a long pause before he answers. "Sure. All the time."
 
"What do you do about it?"
 
"You just remember why it's wrong. Or whatever." His voice is closer now.
 
"I. want someone I shouldn't."
 
"Why shouldn't you want them?"
 
You really want to turn around, find out where he is, but you don't dare. "He's .. older."
 
"Howie was older than me." You can hear the shrug.
 
"It's not just that. It's just. Wrong."
 
"Says who? Him?"
 
Your fingers are drumming against the couch, and you feel like you can't breathe. Why the fuck did you bring this up? "Well. If he knew, yeah."
 
You see him out of your peripheral vision. He walks around the couch and sits beside you and you force yourself to look. He's got a little frown on his face, and he's concentrating real hard, and you really want to run out the door and never come back.
 
"What's going on, Aaron? For real."
 
You focus on a patch of carpet, ignoring the eyes that are borring into your skull. When you finally speak, 5, maybe 10 minutes later, it's barely audible.
 
"Why do you touch me so much?"
 
Your only clue of his hearing is the small gasp that sounds from his lips. Then you're greeted to a long silence of your own, as he breathes somewhat raggedly. Your eyes focus and unfocus on the beige fabric, and just as spots are appearing in front of your eyes, he speaks.
 
"I like touching you," he says in a small voice. You've never heard him sound like that before. He sounds almost -- scared.
 
"You can't. I. You can't keep -- It's too much." Your voice breaks on the last two words and you really hope he doesn't hear them.
 
And suddenly his hand is on your knee and his other is on your face lifting your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "You don't get it. I like it. Too fucking much."
 
Now you really can't breathe. His hand is stroking your cheek, maybe absently. You don't care. He's touching you.
 
"I. I do too."
 
He licks his lips. When his voice comes out it's a hoarse whisper. "Wrong. You're fucking 14. You're my -- Jesus."
 
You move closer to him, cover the hand that's resting on your knee with your own, slide it up your leg slowly, up to your groin, over your hard cock. You push his palm down, and you both gasp in unison. "Want you, Nicky. So bad."
 
He's breathing hard, heel of his palm massaging your hard-on. The hand on your cheek cups around to the back of your neck, pulling you forward, as if in slow motion. You can't stop looking at his eyes; they're magnets drawing you in. And just before your lips touch, he breathes out 'yes' and covers your small mouth with his own.
 
He kisses you carefully, like you're made of porcelain. His lips trace the contours of your own, applying light pressure, then pulling you closer, kissing you firmer. You moan when his hand leaves your dick. You want to push it back down, but then he slides it up under your shirt, slow, slower, until he's massaging your nipples with the pad of his fingertips, making you gasp into his mouth as you feel them start to harden beneath his touch.
 
His tongue inches out, licks along your lower lip, nipping lightly with his teeth and you grow even harder. Your hands have been gripping the cushion since he stopped touching your cock and you want that to change. You slide them through his hair, and smile to yourself at his moan. Your hands slide down his back, running up and down the thin cotton of his shirt, clutching when his tongue finally lips between your lips, forcing them open. And it's like he's swallowing you whole, invading your mouth completely. You kiss back, tongues dueling together. He licks at your teeth, your gums, and groans loudly when you surprise you both by capturing his tongue and pulling it deep into your mouth, sucking hungrily.
 
His fingers are clenching the back of your neck, while his right hand is still alternating between both of your nipples, pinching and pulling. Your own hands have slipped lower, sliding beneath his khaki’s, and god, grasping his flesh. God bless your brother and his no underwear fetish. He's fucking whimpering now. You've made him whimper! But to be fair, so are you.
 
Now your tongue is the one being sucked, and you're thrusting against the space between you, trying to get closer. You climb onto his lap, never breaking the seal of your lips, and straddle his thighs. Now you're thrusting your cock against his belly and finally feeling the evidence that he wants this just as bad. It brushes against your ass and you writhe over it, kneading the flesh of his ass, tasting a bead of sweat as it drips off his face and onto the corner of your mouth.
 
And then he's pulling his mouth away from yours and panting and kissing all over your face and down your neck.
 
"Baby. mmph."
 
You muffle his words by capturing his tongue again, open and hungry as he tries to pull away. You let him, and then he’s removing his hands from your nipples and pulling your shirt up over your head, tossing it across the room. You decide he's got a good idea and do the same. And then your chests, wet and slick and overheated are pressed together while his hands sneak under your ass, squeezing, pulling you closer, while licking a line up your neck. Your head falls back and you half-sigh, half-moan.
 
"Yes. Oh god, Nicky."
 
And you're thrusting against him wildly and he's fucking digging his fingers against the denim and you want to feel them digging into your ass, dammit, but there's not enough time and he's whispering "come on, come on, baby" while sucking hard and fast at your neck and then you're coming, hot spurts splashing against your boxers. You're shaking and moaning and he's kissing you again, so deep and hard and your lips feel raw and your legs feel numb, and you love him, love him.
 
He's stroking your back and murmuring endearments and kissing you everywhere, gently. You shift and notice his hard-on, still unsatisfied.
 
His hands are combing back your sweaty hair as he mouths kisses over your lips, acting calm but you can see his need, feel him shaking with it. You reach down between you and run your fingers over his erection.
 
He grabs your hand and kisses you hard. "Bed.”  
 
You look at his eyes, dark and hungry and it's all for you. "Yes."

 

 

     iv. remember how I made you scream?

 
He carries you and you laugh and he's smiling at you, the way you love and it's so right. It's so right.
 
He sets you down on the bed and climbs on himself, and then you're clawing at him, and he's clawing at you and shoes are kicked off into the air and onto the floor and his pants are gone and yours are too. You're staring at his cock, like you've never seen it before. Which of course you have, but never hard. And he's so fucking big, so thick and you're caught between arousal and fear.
 
Then he's slowly peeling off your boxers, and pushing you down to lie flat on the mattress. Your hips lift as he eases them off. Then they're being tossed with the rest of the clothes and you're totally naked, and so is he. And it's as if you both suddenly realize how real this is.
 
He crawls over you slowly, his body barely touching yours, holding himself up with his arms. His lips brush yours.
 
"I love you."
 
And your eyes fall shut and you blindly reach for him. "Love you, too."
 
And then he's licking down your body, pulling your nipples into his mouth, and you're shaking and arching against his tongue as your cock fills again, every touch of his tongue making you harder, every whispered word ("beautiful boy. want you so bad. fucking hot, oh fuck me.") driving you crazy.
 
He's licking around your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button, shallow puffs of air vibrating against your flesh.
 
"What do you want, baby? Tell me."
 
"Oh god."
 
"Tell me, baby," he moans into your stomach, still licking, mouth so utterly hot and. Yes. You wanna feel it--
 
"S-suck me. Fuck, Nicky, suck me, please."
 
And then he's back above you and he's grasping your face and kissing you fast, dirty, mumbling whispers around your tongue. "You want that, baby? Want my tongue around your cock?"
 
"Oh, fuck," you gasp and your head falls back as his hand wraps around your dick, squeezing lightly, stroking. "Yes, fuck, yes."
 
And in a flash, he's on you, tongue sliding up and down your cock like it was meant to be there, taking you in to the root, then releasing, tongue flickering fast like lightening around the head, lapping up the liquid like he can't get enough of your taste. You wonder if you taste the same. You can't wait to find out.
 
He moans around you cock, taking you faster, working his lips and tongue frantically as if he can sense you're almost there. And you're gonna come, you're--
 
"Nick!"
 
And you explode in his mouth, hips thrusting wildly, and he takes it all, and then licks you clean, languidly, as you soften under his tongue.
 
You've never felt anything like that before. Like any of this. You once got a handjob by a girl dancer when you were 13, but that was it. Nothing like this. Nothing like Nick.
 
He's running his tongue over your balls, licking up the V of your thighs, and then slowly climbing up to your lips, taking them again, slowly and sweetly, allowing you to taste yourself. And it's the hottest thing ever. And so is he.
 
"Mmm," you moan around his tongue and push him, hoping he'll not argue and go willingly. He does. You climb over him, settling your small body over his big one. "Want you," you whisper and start kissing down his neck.
 
He growls deep in his throat and digs his fingers into your back. You cover his neck and throat in your saliva, licking and sucking and biting while he writhes beneath you. Then you're mouthing his hard nipples, trying to mimic what he did to you. You pull and bit and twist them between your fingers and it must be good because his head is snapping back and his chest is heaving as he whispers your name. Sometimes he says, 'Oh, Aaron.' In a sexy, breathy way, not at all like those stupid girls in the song, but still -- you'll never be able to sing it again without thinking of this.
 
Then you're moving further down his body and he reaches for your hand, pulling it to his mouth, sucking on your fingers like he sucked on your cock, making you moan and shake. He sucks and sucks and you realize -- he's showing you --  what to do. So you do it. You follow his actions as you reach his cock, open your mouth and take him in slowly, covering your teeth with your lips and moving your tongue over the head just like he's doing with the pad of your thumb. Your free hand grips the base as you try to take a bit more. You can't do much before you start to choke. And he whispers that it's okay and to just suck the head and jerk him off and you feel sorta pathetic but you do it. And then you stop feeling pathetic because his legs are quivering beneath you and he's saying how fucking hot your mouth is and then you're lapping up his pre-cum and running your tongue over the slit and making him arch into your mouth as your hand works the rest of his dick and the other hand that you've pulled from his grasp glides down to his balls, rolling them between your fingers, feeling them tighten and raise from your touch.
 
And then he's pulling your hair, pulling you off, but you don't go, and he's yelling 'god dammit, Aaron!' like he does when you take his stuff but you don't pull off. Instead, you flatten your tongue against the head and close your eyes as the rush of fluid hits you. You choke a little, but lap him up, determined to taste him. And it's not like yours. He's saltier, muskier, older. Delicious. You lick him clean, slowly like he did, as he pets your hair, moaning softly. When you're done, you slide into his waiting arms, curl your body against his side, nestling your head in the crook of his neck.
 
He presses kisses into your hair and you stroke his arm.
 
You close your eyes, letting his soft lips against your temple and hands massaging your back lull you to sleep.
 
"'S'not wrong," you whisper sleepily.
 
You hear him sigh, feel him pull you tighter, and kiss you yet again. "No. No, it's not."

[end]