When I was younger, while Sherlock was still in school, our parents would get us together for Christmas, then have me stay through Sherlock's birthday and a few days after. It started when Sherlock was 17. I hadn't seen him since he grew into himself, and boy did he. I'd arrived at Mummy's on Christmas Eve and settled into my room. Sherlock, I was told, was in the study. I went to greet him and was surprised by what I saw. He'd become a fine, handsome young man over the course of the year I'd been gone. He was lean and dressed more sharply than I was used to, but still just sloppy enough to be mysterious... Sorry. I'm fawning. Back to the point. That night, I had a very explicit dream about my little brother. And I do mean VERY explicit. I'd been going through a phase where my nose bled easily anyway (thanks to a few injuries), so I wasn't surprised when I woke up to a red pillow. Sherlock, however, was rather more concerned. He'd come to ask if he could borrow my old textbook for my annotations, but instead found me bleeding all over myself. As soon as he realized what he was seeing, he rushed over to me, brushing my hair from my face and helping me sit up so the blood wouldn't drain down my throat. This, of course, did not help the more southern situation I was having, which he thankfully hadn't yet noticed. Then he shouted for our parents, despite my pleads that I was okay. He kept insisting I needed help and I snapped. "Not NOW, Sherlock! Couldn't you just wait five minutes?!" I was sorry as soon as I'd said it. It took him a moment, but he finally realized what I meant. He helped bunch up the blankets to mask the issue, which only made it worse. At least our parents wouldn't be able to tell. A few seconds later, mummy came flying into my room. Of course, she was almost as worried as Sherlock had been, but we were able to convince her I was fine. The bleeding had nearly stopped already anyway. She told us to call her if we needed her, then left. Sherlock was curious about what had aroused me so much, but actually dropped the subject when I asked. I didn't realize he'd been testing me and would continue to do so until he figured it out on New Years Day. He pulled me aside and asked if he was the subject of my erotic dream, and I confirmed it. He nodded and left me alone for the rest of the day. The next week was torture. He'd brush up against me if he had to pass me anywhere. He barely wore clothes at all and I could tell he'd been shaping up. Most of the time, he ran around in nothing but his pyjama bottoms unless instructed otherwise by our parents or we were to be going out. When we went out, he made sure to wear things that flattered his figure. Torture. I tried to put it out of my mind and ignore him, but I simply couldn't. Then it happened. It was the night of January 7th. His birthday had been the day before. Our parents were asleep, and I was halfway there myself when he slipped silently into my room. I opened my eyes and there he was: 18 years old, drop dead gorgeous, and completely unclothed. He whispered to me to scoot over. I don't know what possessed me to listen. I made room for him in my bed, possibly out of habit from when he was little and had nightmares. This, however, was entirely different. He crawled in beneath the covers, pressing himself against me. I wrapped my arms around him and he pressed his lips to mine. I felt his hands trace down my sides and push down my pyjamas, exposing me. The rest is mostly a blur. I just know I ended up as naked as he was, our bodies bare and entwined as we made out off and on for hours, hands wandering, but never settling on one place. Dawn was breaking when he finally pulled himself away. "I'll leave you to yourself," he said. "Mummy will be up in an hour. I doubt it'll take you so long." Then, he crawled out of my bed and went back to his own room. That was the first time I would ever see my little brother fully erect. I'm disappointed to admit it took less than three minutes for me to release the physical tension. Five to reach completion a second time.