It's the day after my sixteenth birthday. Mom brought home a cake in a box. She used to bake them for us. Not anymore, I guess. The leftovers are still on the counter, stale and gross by now because there's no room in the fridge. Too much beer.
I'm sitting at the kitchen counter eating a waffle. There's only one, because Kris snuck up and stole one off my plate when I wasn't looking. The bastard's always doing stuff like that, these days. I've barely seen him since the attack, but he's got his sneaky fingers everywhere.
I don't know what's wrong with him. He can be such a freak sometimes.
I mean, it's been months now. I'm over it. Mom's over it. She's even starting to talk about getting another dog, since the house is 'so lonely without him'. Like she's ever even home anymore. I know it was a little awkward after, but stuff like this has happened before. He's saved my ass a hundred times. He's never been hurt quite so bad, sure, but he's getting better. Scarred, but better.
Maybe.
There's no more waffles in the box. Goddamn Kristoph with his Goddamn waffle-stealing. There's no food in this house. The only edible things are a bag of chocolate chips and a snack pack of Pringles. Oh, and a potato. A sentient potato.
"Kristoph!" I kick the pantry closed. "I need your car to get food."
He says nothing. Typical. He just stays holed up in his room like he's trying to make us forget he even exists. It would probably work a lot better if he, you know, moved out. Isn't he supposed to be some hoity toity lawyer now? Surely he can afford his own place.
"Atchung!" A swift kick to his bedroom door should get his attention. "Out, now, or I take your keys."
Something thumps inside. Glass breaks. Suspicious.
"Kristoph? Is everything cool in there?" I press my ear to the door.
I can hear breathing, maybe, the kind where you're breathing hard but don't want anyone to hear. Some kind of weird noise like out of a set of headphones. That explains it, then. He's got headphones in. But what did he break...?
"Kristoph?" I open the door.
Fuck me sideways.
Little bits of lamp are all over the floor. He must have knocked it off his desk. Mom got him that lamp when he went to live at university the first time. The headphones are plugged into his computer. It's playing a video from sometime yesterday. It was at Daryan's house. His parents lent us his pool for the party. He's got this one part on repeat, over and over. I'm pulling myself out of the pool, laughing at something stupid. I hadn't even known he was there.
And there he is, curled up in the corner between his desk and his bed. He's staring at me with big deer-in-the-headlights eyes, like I just walked in on him dicking around with his girlfriend or something. Not that he's ever had a girlfriend, as far as I know. It doesn't make a bit of sense.
'Cept his fly is open.
"Get the hell out!"
He grabs a pencil cup off his desk and throws it at me. I barely manage to slam the door before it hits.
"Fuck you too, asshole!" I kick the door again and storm off.
He swore at me. Kristoph never swears.
Something's definitely up.
I grab his car keys and leave.
---
Mom is NOT pleased. How was I supposed to know the speed limit? There wasn't even a sign. And the cop was a total dick. Most reasonable people would let a starving minor off with a warning. Asshole.
I'm supposedly stuck in my room for a week. Like that's going to really happen. As the wise men say, you cannot keep a teenager in his room without an industrial strength lock. Or something like that.
Still, it's summer. We were supposed to go to the beach together.
Oh well. Probably would have just ended up fighting, anyway.
Speaking of which, Mom's ripping a strip off Kristoph right now. Same old, same old. How could you be so fucking irresponsible, letting a sixteen year old jack your car. Why don't you move out and get out of my face. You're just like your dead-beat father. I'd feel kind of sorry for him, if it weren't true. I don't remember Dad too well, but they both had this same weird look, like they were looking right through you. Like they saw you better than you saw yourself, but couldn't really bring themselves to care.
And really, come on. I did warn him.
I've got most of it figured out now. It should have occurred to me earlier. No girlfriend, no girl friends, no friends period. Of course Kris would be getting it on with his hand every once in a while. Hell, I do it pretty much every day, and I've got Em, when she's in the country. Kris hasn't gotten any tail for years. It's a shock he hasn't offed himself by now.
There's one thing I don't get, though. What was up with the movie? I'm sure I never saw him at Daryan's, and I don't think anyone had a camcorder. He can be such a freak sometimes.
---
A week is a really, really long time. The first day I write about a billion songs, most of which are shit. Then Mom takes away my guitar, so that's awesome. I get half of my summer reading done. I didn't plan on doing any of it, but there's shit all to do. I'm not even allowed to check my email. Stupid family computer. Why can't I have my own, like Kris does?
And then, genius. Kris's room is right next to mine. Ten seconds tops and I'm in. Mom'd never know. Plus it's somewhat amusing to plot all the awesome pranks I'm gonna set up while I'm in there.
Fourth day in and Kris finally leaves for some interview or whatever. Apparently he's finally got a case. I can hear Mom cooing over him like he just took his first steps and then start harping in on how much rent he apparently owes her now. Apparently the four hundred a month he's been paying her for, like, ever no longer exists. It sure as hell hasn't been put into the house, or, you know, food.
He doesn't say a word. If it were me, I'd be all over her. Kris just says 'bye' and leaves. I don't know why he puts up with her. I wouldn't. The moment I'm eighteen, I'm out of here.
I hear him drive off. Mom turns the TV on to some stupid doctor show, and I've got my chance.
Slick as snot.
He's cleaned up the glass. Of course he's cleaned up the glass, this is Kristoph. Nothing's ever out of place. Doesn't stop Mom from complaining, but whatever. Each to his own.
I slip into his holy mother fucking hell that's comfy chair and go to turn it on. 'Cept it is on, and it's got this picture screensaver going. All the pictures are of me. Me getting my first guitar, me playing at the Halloween dance, me eating ice cream with Daryan. I don't even remember him being there for half of them. God, I was so mad when he didn't show up for my first real live playing gig, and there's this picture of me, right there on the screen. Why didn't he tell me he was there?
His computer's password protected. Well, fuck. Who would he need to protect his computer from, anyway?
Not his birthday. Not any of his names. He's got no favourite shows or animals or whatever. I even try our dog's name. Bust.
What about my name?
Huh. That's interesting.
I open up his internet and the browser pops up. He's got it set to automatically put up whatever pages he was looking at before. This should be fun and/or blackmail material. Either way.
Load, load, load, holy...
No way. No fucking way.
Kris isn't a porn kind of guy. He just isn't. No way he would actually pay for something like that, it's just... crude, I guess. And this is... I mean, yeah, sometimes when I'm mad at him or joking around or just being a dick I'll call him queer or whatever, but... Jesus Christ, is that even possible?
I can't believe it. I cannot fucking believe it. I'm sitting in my brother's room looking at gay porn on his computer.
That is SO messed up.
He's got a two year membership. Who the hell buys a two year membership? Everyone knows you get the month one and then download all the good shit. He's not only queer, he's an idiot. And his user name... What kind of name is 'PianoMan'? That sounds like some sort of retarded superhero or maybe a serial killer, not a username for a porn site. It's fucking disappointing, is what it is.
For a guy with a two year membership, he doesn't have a lot of favourites. There's only a couple. Let's see what kind of pervert big brother is.
Wow. That's... Actually kind of tame. For gay porn. Straight forward good ol' poolside American fucking, sorta. There's something familiar about that blond kid, though. Weird.
Aha! Bondage sex! Awesome. Well, not awesome, because they're dudes, but... Whatever. Better than that stupid pool thing. Also, Nazis, while evil, are sexy.
God, I can just imagine Kristoph all decked out with the cap and the leather boots and the gloves and the riding crop. He'd make a fucking fantastic dominatrix. Well, no, because that's a girl and DID I SERIOUSLY JUST IMAGINE MY BROTHER AS A NAZI DOMINATRIX. WHAT THE FUCK.
Ok, leaving right now. This has gone way beyond messed up. Time to get out of here and back to my room and just forget about everything I just saw.
Open the door, out the door, fuck there he is.
He stares at me with the same deer eyes. We just kind of stand there for a second, staring at each other, and Jesus I can practically smell the leather. Then his eyes go to his computer screen, and fuck fuck fuck I forgot to close the tab, and he looks at me again and I've never seen him look that way, ever. It's like someone just kicked him in the balls and told him his puppy died at the same time.
Mom shouts something about why the fuck is he home already, doesn't he have a trial to get ready for, and I bolt before he can say anything. I get in my room and close the door and put my chair under the knob.
I don't see him the rest of the day.
The next morning, he comes out and talks with Mom. I'm still in my room, but I can hear them through the door. He's moving out. He's going to find his own apartment as soon as possible and get his ass out of the house. Something about 'privacy issues.'
I just sit in my room, listening to him pack through the wall.
Me and my stupid plans. I should have stayed inside like Mom told me to. If I had just minded my own business, he'd be staying.
You'd think it would be harder to avoid someone living in the room next door. I thought he was a ghost before... Not it's like he's already gone. He's out of the house before I'm even up and when he comes home, if he comes home, sometimes he doesn't, he just goes straight into his room. He doesn't even come out for meals anymore. Whenever we do see each other he doesn't look at me. He just skulks by.
I hate this. We're brothers, damn it. We should be hanging out or fighting or something. Not ignoring one another.
Still, I'm... I'm not sure what to say to him. Everything's just so... messed up.
And then there's the dreams. And the daydreams. And the moments when my brain gets away from me and I can't help but think about him all dolled up in that God damn Nazi get up, all slick and smooth and fuck.
Nothing makes sense anymore. Not a God damn thing.
---
It's the day before he leaves for good. He found a place in LA, fucking LA, on the other side of the fucking country. He's going to run a law firm out of his living room. It's all set up and arranged. He's even got the fucking plane tickets. Mom's ecstatic but pretending to be sad. I can't stand her. I really can't.
I guess it's about time, really. He's twenty four already. There's no reason he shouldn't go.
I just don't want him to.
I wake up pretty early, for a Saturday, but Mom's already gone. Or still gone, maybe. I don't really care. She'll find her way home sooner or later. I wonder if she realizes they'll be no-one to bail her out, once he's gone.
I'm on my way back to my room with a piece of toast and some juice, and there he is. He's wearing some crazy black suit I've ever even seen, something real sharp and modern and not something he'd ever wear. I mean, he's wearing a green tie. I've never seen him wear green, ever. It's distracting and irritating and actually kinda hot, in a weird revenge of the body snatchers kind of way, and I did not just think that.
"Um..." His eyes flicker from my shoes to the top of my head, trying not to make eye contact.
Fuck, I'm blocking the hall, aren't I.
I squish up against the wall. He tries to inch by without touching me, but between the toast and the suitcase he's lugging around it's pretty hard. He touches me for the first time in months, and it's kind of weird, but it sort of, well... It sort of feels good.
His arm hits mine and knocks my juice around. It gets all over me. I start to swear a strip of him and then I can't because he's fucking kissing me, licking the juice off my lips, pushing me against the fucking wall and suddenly everything makes sense. The birthday video, the blond headed pool porn, him avoiding me... Jesus, it all makes sense.
He lets me go and kind of stumbles away, and he makes this weird noise like a hiccup and a sob put together. Christ, he's my brother, I mean, we're brothers. We're both dudes, and, fuck... I'm not even fucking legal. It's gay incestuous pedophilia. That's like the most fucked up thing ever. That's just... Just...
Fuck.
He gets out of the hallway into the laundry room and kind of flops against the wall. He looks like he's going to cry. Kristoph never cries. But hey, it's not every day you break down and lick the tears off your brother's face.
Jesus. This is the most messed up family, ever.
"I'm sorry, Klavier, I didn't... I didn't mean to..." His voice is weird and wobbly, and it's kind of freaking me out.
"Yeah, you did." I feel like a dick, the way he flinches away. "You totally did."
I don't know what to do. He's my brother, but he's my i brother/i. I mean... This is just... Messed up. There's no chicken soup for the incestuous teenage soul. I mean being queer is one thing. There's been times when I kind of, you know, thought about it, sometimes. But with Kristoph? Jesus.
So I don't do anything. I just stand there staring at him like a total jackass, and he just sits there like he's, well... Like someone ripped his heart out. Eventually he stands up and finds his suitcase and disappears out the door. His car door slams and he drives off.
He doesn't come back.
---
It's not as different without him as I thought it would be. I barely saw him anyways. Mom still bitches and complains about having to send the stuff he left behind by post, even though he pays for it. The pantry's still empty. I just don't have a car to jack anymore. Nobody asks me how my day went. Nobody comes to any of my gigs. No-one steals my waffles.
Fucking waffles.
We play a gig at some crappy little fall festival thing in October. Afterwards, Daryan rides my case for twenty minutes about artistic integrity and getting over your personal issues for the sake of your art and how I'm not doing it, and I tell him to fuck himself even though he's probably right. Then he gives me his share of the payout for a plane ticket. I never even told him Kris left.
I leave Mom a note, which was more or less a longer and more drawn out version of 'fuck you I'm leaving'. I pack a couple of shirts and a reasonably clean pair of pants, and my guitar. The taxi to the airport costs more than the flight.
By the time I stop and think about what I'm actually doing, the plane's already in the air.
---
He answers the door in his pyjamas. At home, he always wore the full set. Living alone seems to have had some liberating affects on him. I had no idea he was so... So.
"What... Klavier." He stares at me and for the first time in ages he's actually staring, not deer-in-the-headlights staring. "It's two in the morning. You are a crazy person." He pauses and blinks as if he's realizing something. "You don't live here. What are you doing in Los Angeles?"
"Mom kicked me out." Lying through my teeth seems like the best plan at the moment, and besides, I don't really know myself why, per se. "You'll let me stay with you, right?"
He blinks, yawns and pushes open the door. I'm going to take that as a yes.
His apartment is shit. So's his stuff. But it's all still perfectly clean and tidy, as always. The bookshelf's even alphabetized. He's got his degree hung up on the wall in a crappy dollar store frame. I put my backpack and my guitar case down on his shitty couch.
"Mom kicked you out." He closes the door and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Why did Mom kick you out."
"I shived a kid. Fucker had a look, you know?" If you're going to lie, always go for the outrageous, especially with the sleep deprived.
"...Kay." He shuffles back towards what you assume is his bedroom.
There are only three doors. Of course he wouldn't have a spare bedroom, apparently he can barely afford the one. That's ok. I can deal with a couch. I'm a tough kid.
"Wait, WHAT?!" He whirls around so fast his ponytail smacks me in the face. "You can't be serious! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? And now you've fled the state! Good Lord, Klavier, why would you do something so incredibly..."
It's taking everything I've got not to laugh in his face.
"Stupid." He sighs, closes his eyes and pinches his nose. "Klavier. Please tell me you didn't just fly all the way across the country just to play a practical joke on me."
"Ok." This feels good, this feels right. "I didn't fly all the way across the country just to play a practical joke on you. And I can't help it, you're easy."
It feels like we're brothers again. Everything's nice and simple, just like it's always been. He can look me in the eye again. He can laugh. We can both relax. Everything's ok.
And then his eyes close off and he smiles uncomfortably and crosses his arms over his chest and we're right back where we started, except now it's worse because I'm standing in the middle of his living room like a dork and if things go south I've got nowhere else to go.
Yeah, great plan.
"You shouldn't be here." He says real quietly.
"Yeah... I'm kind of getting that."
We just kind of stand here for a long awkward moment. It feels like I've got some sort of, I don't know, jack rabbit or something pounding away in my chest. It physically hurts. Emotions aren't supposed to make you physically hurt.
Fuck this shit.
"Kristoph?"
"Yes?" He looks up at me and answers too fast and I can see him swallow. "What?"
Come on, Klavier, don't be such a chicken shit. It's not a big deal, it's just, you know, the rest of your lives. You can do it.
"I, um... Do you, I mean..." Doing great, Klavier, now stop with the stupid. "Are you... in love with me?"
He closes his eyes for a second and swallows.
"You're my brother. Of course I... love you."
"That's kind of... not what I meant." Everything about him is screaming at me to shut up, but there's no going back now. "Do you... Love me, love me."
He closes his eyes again. God, I've fucked up now. I've never seen him look like this. Not when Dad left, not after the attack, not ever. He doesn't let people see in. Not even me. Now it's like he's just let all his guards down and is letting me see everything. Like he doesn't care anymore. It's freaking me out.
"Klavier..." He's barely breathing. "It's late. You've had a long flight. Why don't you go to sleep and we'll talk about it later, ok?"
He tries to turn and walk away. He just wants this to be over, and maybe that would be better, but I've come all this way, and... I don't want things to go back to the way they were before. Even if everything goes wrong. At least I did something.
I have to do something.
I grab his arm. He stops. I can feel him shaking, physically shaking.
"Klavier, please."
What the hell am I supposed to say? Is this a road I really want to go down? I mean, this is Kristoph. This is my brother.
iAll decked out with the cap and the leather boots and the glove and the riding crop... /i Jesus Christ, I've been dreaming about this for weeks, for fucking iyears/i. I am NOT going to fuck this up, not now. No matter what comes after.
I lean up and kiss him and kind of miss a little but I still get the corner of his mouth. I feel like a fucking schoolgirl, with my heart in my throat and my stomach doing somersaults.
He looks at me like I just grew an extra head. I can't say I really blame him. I kind of feel like I have, one that knows this is a really bad idea and another that doesn't give a fuck.
It's like watching something explode in slow motion. First there's shock, and then it falls into amazement and then this weird sort of happiness just kind of bursts onto his face, and then he's kissing me again, but different this time. Better.
I've kissed people before. A bunch of times. Ema and I even went all the way once, or most of the way. She kind of got mad at me and hit me in the head with a bag of snacks, but it was practically sex. Sort of.
This is better than that. I have no idea how, but God, it is.
He's doing this weird thing where he pushes a little and then pulls back a little and turns his head a little and then does it all again in a different order or something indecipherable like that. Sometimes he kind of moves his lips like he's biting me except without the teeth, and sometimes with them but not hard enough to hurt, not really. And sometimes his tongue comes out and pokes at me and slips in between, and that's fucking awesome. I had no idea you could kiss like that.
For the first time it occurs to me that I'm probably in way, way over my head. I'm sixteen and a virgin, kind of. What the hell do I know about... this? I don't even know how to kiss properly. What if we actually do this and I turn out to be really shitty in bed? What if he hates it so much he never wants to talk to me ever again? What if I can't even make him finish?!
He's so much older than me. He's probably had a whole bunch of lovers I don't even know about. I'm just going to end up being really disappointing and it'll be really bad and I don't even know if I'm gay, so what the fuck am I doing? This was just a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea. I'm just this stupid retarded kid with a crush on his big brother and this is all going to end horribly and possibly in bloodshed.
He pulls away and kind of turns his head. I knew it, I fucking knew it. I'm a horrible kisser and even though it was really really really good he thought it was awful and now he's going to tell me to get the fuck out and I'm going to end up sleeping in a trash can with a hobo named Burt.
"I'm sorry, Kristoph, I'm a horrible person, I'm sorry!" I let go of him and I really want to go and run and hide under a rock somewhere, but this is Kris's apartment and there are no rocks, only crappy Ikea coffee tables. "Please don't hate me, please, I don't want to sleep in a trash can!"
He stands up and looks at me and it's like thirty seconds ago when he still thought there was extra shit growing out of my head except more so.
"What?"
"I'm sorry I'm such a crappy kisser! You're so awesome and I suck so bad and I'm sorry!" I stick my head in my hands and hide like a little fucking kid. "Please don't hate me."
I'm not really sure what I'm expecting from him. Forgiveness, maybe. Or some sort of 'well, that's nice but get out anyway you silly, silly fool.' I don't know.
He laughs. Really laughs. He doesn't laugh, not usually. Sometimes he chuckles or what have you but I don't think I've ever heard him laugh like a normal person. And then his arms are around my shoulders and my face is buried in his hair, which inexplicably smells of mangoes. I can feel his laughter coming up through his chest and into mine, and it makes me feel like laughing too.
"You idiot. I'm not going to make you sleep in a trash can. And I certainly don't hate you." His hands move over my back, pulling me a little bit closer. "How could I? You're perfect."
I don't think I've ever been this happy.
---
Next thing I know, we're in his bedroom, which is as crappy as his living room except for the bed which is fucking AWESOME and must have cost as much as the rest of his furniture put together, and he's taking off my shirt. I'm not really sure how or why but it doesn't matter because he's kissing me again and doing that lip biting thing and I didn't think anyone could get this hard and not, you know, explode. I feel so fucking useless, just holding on to him and trying not to come in my pants, but he doesn't seem to mind. As long as I keep trying to figure out how to kiss him back properly he seems ok.
He somehow manages to get my shirt off without breaking the kiss once, which I'm pretty sure is impossible because you have to pull your head out the neck hole, don't you, but it was a button shirt wasn't it so it should be fuck that's his HAND on my PANTS. He's not even touching me anywhere special, just on my hip but I can feel it through the fabric and his other hand is in the small of my back, on the bare skin of the small of my back and fuck.
I'm freaking out. I know I'm freaking out. Any second now I'm going to go crazy and do the chicken dance or something because this is just messed up. And somehow I can't stop thinking this is Kristoph, this is my brother, this is Kristoph and he's kissing me like this, this is my brother kissing me like this. Big fucking brother, about to fuck me big time.
Jesus Christ that's hot.
Oh yeah, I'm going to hell for sure.
"You ok, Klavier?" I can actually taste him talking to me, feel it in my chest.
"Yes!" My voice cracks. My voice hasn't cracked since I was twelve. "I'm fine!"
"We can slow down, if you want."
Oh, fuck no. I know what that means. I still have the bump from when Em told me to 'slow down'. And even if yeah, sure, slowing down a little would in theory be ok so that maybe my brain can catch up to my dick a little, that would probably be a bad idea even if it wasn't a code word for stop entirely. So no, big brother, I don't want to slow down.
I just, you know... Don't want to speed up.
'Cept I kind of do.
While he's waiting for an answer he kind of lets his face slide down until he's kissing the side of my neck, just under my ear, and his hand curves around and down a little and he is TOUCHING MY ASS. KRISTOPH IS TOUCHING MY ASS. Holy fucking shit.
Kristoph makes this weird little needy groaning moaning sort of noise which is odd, but there have been odder things. And then he licks my neck a little and I realize it's not him, it's me, and I can feel him smiling.
God, it feels good.
I think I should probably take off his shirt too, so I grope around looking for buttons or an edge or whatever but then I realize he's not wearing a shirt, never was, and I'm just feeling him up like a total moron. He laughs a little, which is kind of good and kind of humiliating. He's so, I don't know, solid, not like Ema or any of the other girls or even Daryan. (it totally wasn't gay we didn't even kiss ok, we were just watching porn and things got a little out of hand. Totally wasn't gay.) They were all kids, all my age, and he's an adult. A sexy adult. Who is nibbling on my ear like he's a rabbit and I'm a fucking carrot.
He lets go of my hip and grabs my hand and puts it on his hip right above where the pyjamas start, and I think he wants me to take off his pants, but that's ireal/i is what that is. You take off a guy's pants, that's like giving him permission to do whatever the fuck he wants to you. That's worse than dropping the soap.
But this is Kris, and I trust him.
Of course he does apparently have fantasies about tying me up and whipping me while dressed as a Nazi ok stop that right now unless you want this to be over REAL fast.
"Klavier?" I guess he noticed the whole tensing every muscle in my body thing. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm just great." I fiddle with his pyjama bottoms elastic band thing for a second before I remember that it's his pyjama bottoms elastic band thing and stop. "Do you know that movie on your favourites list? The one with the pool and the, um... Me look alike, I guess?"
"... Yes."
"Could we maybe start with that and then maybe work our way up to the Nazi bondage? That's kind of, well, scary to be honest with you although if that's what you really want I guess that's ok but I really hope it's not because that's... yeah."
Again with the second head staring.
"Are you serious?"
"Umm.... Yes?"
He blinks and shakes his head, and then he plants a kiss on the top of my head like I'm six and he's putting me to bed and whispers in my ear.
"Don't worry, leibling. I won't do anything you don't want me to."
Ok that's official I am going to pay WAY more attention in German now.
And then he's kissing my ear again, and he's slowly working his hand around to the front of my pants, and then he's undoing the button and then the zipper and then things get real.
---
His hand is in my pants. His hand is IN my PANTS. His HAND is in MY pants.
Must think of something unsexy. Sentient potatoes. Mrs. Fleinheart's bottom. Daryan's skanky ass mullet hair. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck this isn't working.
I'm pretty sure my pants are somewhere down around my ankles somewhere and I probably look like an idiot and I shouldn't have worn the Steel Samurai boxers today but damn it I didn't really think I was going to be laid. Well I kind of did but this would be the first date, wouldn't it, and girls aren't supposed to put out on the first date. But Kristoph's definitely not a girl. So maybe I shouldn't be putting out. But I'm not a girl either. Fuck it, our entire lives has been one big first date. Problem solved.
His hand slips under the fabric of my boxers and he kind of fingers my crack which should be gross but apparently it's not when you're about to have gay incest sex. I kind of instinctually grab a hold of something and that something is actually Kristoph's ass, and I have just officially grabbed my brother's ass. With both hands. And Kristoph is LAUGHING at me, AGAIN.
We'll see how the bastard likes it.
I quickly form a cunning plan to pull his pants off by pulling his pants off, therefore causing him equal shame and humiliation. If there is one thing he can't beat me at, it's pantsing folk. I am the master of the pants. One swift movement and we will once again be on a roughly level playing field, except for the age and the height differences and stuff but that's completely fuck he's not wearing underwear. His pants are on the floor, and I am touching his ass again and there's just nothing there except, you know, ass.
He does not appear mortified.
He does, however, grab me right back. Something hard pokes into my stomach and it takes me all of two seconds to figure out that it is his massive boner, and that mine is poking him right back. Except mine is still inside my underpants and his is just rubbing on my skin, and if I look down then I can see...
Holy fuck. Mom always told me that porn penises were unrealistic, but she's obviously never seen a real one up close. It looks like a fucking walrus. I guess it's not really that big, but Jesus... And that's supposed to go IN somewhere?
He pulls my chin up so he can kiss me on the lips again, but now all I can think of is a walrus penis trying to get in me down there, and that is fucking TERRIFYING and a total mood killer, even more than getting hit with a bag of Snackaroos. I mean, it would never fit, and even if you somehow got it to you'd never be the same again. It would ruin you forever. Which is I guess kind of like what virginity is supposed to be, but that's supposed to be girls, and they don't have to actually use their things for anything other than sexy times, so it's ok.
He's hugging me again, and I can still feel him pressing against me. When I'm not looking it's kind of ok I guess, but it's in my head and I can't get it out now that it's in.
"Are you alright?"
"Um..."
Apparently that's all the answer he needs, because all of a sudden he lets me go, and I hadn't notice how fucking cold it was in here.
"I went too far. I'm sorry, Klavier, I didn't mean to push you." He bends down to reach for his pants and it occurs to me that this is pretty much done now if I don't say something.
For a second, I actually consider just getting dressed and getting the hell out of here, hobo trashcan or no.
But what fun would that be?
"Kris, I, um..." I bite my bottom lip. "I want to, I just... I don't think that I... can."
He looks up at me and frowns.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just, you, I..." Don't say walrus dick, don't say walrus dick... "Would it... Fit? In there?"
For a moment he looks confused, and then he just kind of smiles a little and reaches up and ruffles my hair like I'm six or something.
"I told you I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to. And besides, it's practically a rule that you don't go all the way the first time."
"Really?" He nods and smiles, coming a little closer and putting his hands on my hips again. "Then, um... What do you do? I mean I know what you do but... With a guy? I don't know... what to do."
He smiles and kisses me on the forehead.
"That's ok. I'll show you."
---
He gets me sitting on his bed leaning up against the headboard. He's keeping the sheets on for some mysterious reason he refuses to tell me about. Whenever I ask a question he just tells me to wait and see. He did the same thing when he was 'helping' me with my homework, too. Not the same same thing obviously because, well, because. But he's a bastard no matter the situation, is my point.
He knees on the bed in front of me, between my legs. I can't help but stare. When he's farther away like this it's not so scary and looks pretty much the same as it should. It's weird, though. It's a lot stiffer than it is in pornos. I mean, so is mine, but it's different looking at it on another guy. Which is weird in and of itself.
I'm trying really, really hard not to be terrified.
He leans forward and kisses me some more and tells me to relax. Easy for him to say. Well, I guess not really, but you know what I mean. Ever since this started he's been calm as anything. I guess his scary part's over with for the most part. I can imagine how not knowing whether or not your little brother's willing to let you fuck him would be pretty terrifying.
Ok that came out way more bitter and angry than I meant.
He moves down to kiss my neck again, and that's pretty nice. He hooks his thumbs into the bands of my boxers and pulls them down and suddenly I'm naked too and irrationally embarrassed despite the fact that I've been pretty much naked for like, ten minutes. Still, I can't help but worry that he'll go 'gah, walrus dick' too, or even worse, 'gah, tiny pixie dick'. I'm pretty sure I'm ok but you never really know until someone tells you and I never got that far with Ema. I could be hideously deformed and not even know it.
He looks down and makes this inoise/i and his fingers dig into my kneecaps. That makes me feel a little better.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are." He buries his face in my neck. "You think you do, but you have no idea."
"Well, I look just like you, so I guess... Right back at you?" I'm glad he can't see my face, because if he did he'd probably go blind. I feel like a Christmas light. A red one.
I never thought someone'd say something like that to me. People just don't talk like that anymore.
I feel him smile, and his hand wanders down my thigh. He's going to give me a hand job. That's cool. I know how those work. And he's probably got some sort of really cool tricks like with the kissing. I can handle this. I can totally handle this.
Except now he's scooting back and leaning forward, and I've got this imagine in my mind of him sucking me off, with his pretty lips around me, and I know that's what he's going to do. No way am I going to make it. Hell, I might not make it to the actual blowjob. The second he looks up at me I'm going to cream all over his face and embarrass us both and there's nothing I can do about it.
He doesn't look and he doesn't touch me. He blows. He literally fucking blows like I'm a birthday candle. The fucker actually thinks he's got enough wiggle room to tease me. Either he's greatly overestimating my self control or is deliberately being irritating as hell.
And then he's suddenly sucking on me and when the fuck did that even happen and Jesus, I don't even want to know how he got so fucking good at this.
I'm trying to pay attention. I really am. This should theoretically be a learning experience, right? The first time you're supposed to kind of figure out how it works at the very least so you don't fuck up next time. But it is fucking IMPOSSIBLE to concentrate when he's sucking on me like that, and his fucking tongue is, it's everywhere. It shouldn't be physically possible, for something to feel this good. And your first time is supposed to suck, right? I mean, figuratively, not literally.
He wraps his hand around my dick where his mouth can't reach and he squeezes a little and it kind of hurts but not enough to, you know, hurt. I don't really understand until he closes his lips and hollows his cheeks and fuck this is so much better than jerking off I can't even believe it, and I'd come right fucking now if he wasn't squeezing me like that.
He lets go of me with this popping noise like when you push the button on the top of an open jar and looks up at me with these big worried puppy dog eyes, and I think he's asking me if I'm ok. Hell no I'm not ok you asshole, you're a Goddamned tease is what you are and I hate you from the very bottom of my soul. But you know what? I don't think my mouth works properly any more. So shut the fuck up and get to it already.
I put my hand in his hair and kind of push a little and I think I make some kind of noise but it doesn't matter. He smiles and kisses the head of my cock and he's looking me right in the fucking eyes. Jesus, Kristoph, Jesus...
I don't think he was expecting it but he damn well should have, looking at me like that while he's... Fuck. He closes his eyes real fast and I've got like a millisecond to think 'well that's good now I don't have to worry about spooging you in the eye' before my brain turns off entirely.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I've heard about toe curling back arching screaming at the top of your lungs orgasms but I thought that was just girls and only when they're faking it, but fuck if it isn't happening to me. It's like exploding from the inside out only it doesn't. Fucking. Stop.
By the time I can see straight again he's resting his head on the backs of his hands with his elbows on either side of my hips so he's kind of straddling me with his arms. He's watching me with this weird smile that's actually kind of terrifying. Like he's trying to memorize absolutely every single thing about me so that he can wank to it later or something. Which he probably will fuck I can't physically get hard again brain I just came like a second ago so chill the fuck out. He's still got some of my come on his face. Jesus Christ.
"You ok?" Stupid fucking question.
"Uh huh." Stupid fucking answer. Don't chill out quite so much brain you still need to function.
"I take it you enjoyed yourself."
No, Kristoph, I've been sitting here bored out of my mind for... Hell, was it only five minutes? I'm disappointed in myself. Of course I fucking enjoyed myself you massive cunt.
"Uh huh." Right. Brain, one more episode like this and I'm cutting you out of my head and getting a new one.
"Ok."
He rolls off me and stands up and fucking walks away, just like that. I can't talk let alone stand let alone walk and he's just strolling off like nothing happened. Damn, he looks good form behind, though... Fuck fuck fuck not yet that's ridiculous.
He slips through the door into the bathroom I guess. He leaves the door open but doesn't turn on the lights. I can see him in the mirror, washing my come off his face. He looks up at me in the mirror and smiles and runs his tongue over his lips.
He stands up straight and stretches like a fucking cat or something. He's doing this on purpose isn't he. Mother fucker he is. He leans back against the wall opposite the mirror and suddenly I can see fucking everything. I thought for sure he'd be knocking one off while he was, you know, but he's still so hard it's practically vertical. That's gotta ihurt/i. Why wouldn't he do something about it...
Oh. So he could do this. Goddamned tease!
He lets his head fall back against the wall, and I can see this big red hicky on the side of his neck that I don't remember putting there. His hand just kind of drifts over his stomach like he's got all the time in the world, like he's just getting started. He glances at me in the mirror and then he closes his eyes.
Jesus Jesus Jesus look at him he's so fucking... How the hell did I not realize how fucking hot he was?! It's not like I woke up one morning and all of a sudden he was smoking, this has been going on for some time now. So what if he's my brother, I'm an artist, we're supposed to appreciate all different forms of beauty not... Ignore them completely.
I never really got why people drew naked people all the time or sculpted them or whatever. I mean, folks wear clothes. They don't sit around on little stone benches in the buff thinking about cosmic truth, they wear togas or whatever. And I was always like 'put them in the fucking toga! No-one wants to see some ancient Greek guy's wang no matter how buff he is.' I get it now.
God, I wish I was a sculptor or a painter or something. I wish I could draw this, what I'm seeing right now. Not a photograph. That's just like a second and it's over and you've got that one second and that's it. Film's just a bunch of seconds put together. A drawing would be like... Like all of it. If you could put the entire video together into one picture, that would be what the drawing would be like. It would be the entire event, not just the second. But I can't fucking draw. Some artist I am.
He finally, ifinally/i actually touches himself. His head slams back into the wall and he makes this noise like 'unf', which shouldn't be sexy but it is. Fuck, I want him so bad...
Why the hell am I still in bed?!
He's just barely opening his eyes when I kiss him and he makes this happy little surprised sound that goes right in my mouth and straight to my dick. I don't even give myself time to think about it. I just wrap my arms around his neck and jump him, literally jump him. He's not expecting it and he stumbles backwards and I think maybe he rips a towel rack out of the wall but who the hell cares. He's on the floor and I'm on top of him, kissing him, straddling him, and his cock is rubbing against mine and it feels so fucking good.
I think he likes this, being on the bottom. Or maybe it's just having me on top, I don't know. His hands are moving all over my back and sometimes his fingernails dig in a little, and that's good too. His hips jerk up every once in a while and I get the feeling that he's trying to keep still, and I can't quite figure that part out because why the hell would he when moving feels so fucking fantastic?
"Jesus, Klavier..." He groans and hits his head on the floor again and I'm sucking on his neck, which is where the hicky must have come from, only that's not how time works is it. "Stop, please, stop."
He tastes so fucking good and wait what? What do you mean, stop?
"I'm sorry!" I should probably get off of him but my legs don't want to work so well all of a sudden so I just sit up and grab on to the counter and try and pull myself up. "I did something wrong, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
He grabs my hips and pulls me back down and makes this noise that's kind of like 'no!' and is probably the pre-language cave-man version or something. I land kind of weird and his cock presses against me and slides up between the cheeks of my ass. He ends up with his forehead pressed into my shoulder holding on to me so tight I feel like I'm going to break, which is ok, really, because if real fucking feels like that just did I'm just fine with that. That doesn't even make sense.
"Uh... Klavier..." He's sort of holding his breath, and so am I. "If you don't... stop... right now... I don't think I can... Con... Control myself."
Control himself... This is sex you idiot, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to control yourself. That's like the entire fucking point.
Somehow I manage to wrap my arms around him and get my head to stop swimming for long enough to formulate an actual sentence.
"I don't want you to."
He makes this sound. He's been making a lot of sounds lately but this is different. It reminds me of at the end of Lion King when Simba finally becomes king and stands on the top of the rock and roars, except less liony and more... Shit, I'm never going to be able to watch that movie without getting a boner again, am I?
He pushes me over so I'm lying on my back with my arms and legs wrapped around him like some sort of koala. The tile is cold and I arch up into him because he's warm and because it feels fantastic. He's got one hand holding himself up and the other is tearing his bathroom cupboard apart looking for something in the dark, which must be really hard when he's got his face buried in my neck paying me back for the hickies. He's move his hips all the time now, hard and fast and that's just amazing. Kind of freaky but amazing.
He fiddles with something for a second which is annoying because he stops moving to do it. I make what he calls my whiny bitch noise and move a little for him and he makes what I'm now going to call his sexy beast noise and kisses me so hard I can actually feel his teeth behind his lips.
And then he pushes something really fucking cold into my ass which is totally not cool, man, totally not cool what the fuck. At least warm that shit up. I try to push him off me a little but he ignores me. I guess this is what he meant by not being able to control himself. Serves me right, I guess.
He starts moving it around inside. It's really fucking weird. It doesn't really hurt, though. Kristoph has these really thin fingers, kind of like on cartoons or that weird anime shit where they're real long and tapered and freakishly pretty like girl fingers. And one of those fingers is stuck up my ass right now isn't it oh fuck yes.
He pushes another finger in me and that one does hurt a little, especially when he opens them up like that. He starts pulling them out and pushing them in, and he's fucking me with his fingers isn't he, shit, he is. It should probably feel good, but it doesn't really. It's just weird.
He puts in another and that really fucking hurts, but then his finger hits something in there or something and yeah, sure it hurts but I don't fucking care anymore because as long as he keeps doing that I might just explode.
"What the fuck, Kris?!" My back gets all kinky to use the exactly right word and my fingers start digging into his back. "What, fuck, just... shit!"
"Watch your mouth." He growls into my neck, and I'm like 'fuck you you dick you don't get to tell me not to swear when you've got your Goddamned finger up my Goddamned ass' except, you know, in my head.
"Shut up." I squish him with my legs and squiggle around a bit trying to get him to touch that spot again. "Do. Something."
"What do you think this is?" He keeps stretching me open inside and his voice gets kind of scary. "You really want me to skip right to the sex? Is that what you want?"
"Whatever!" No matter what I do I can't get him to touch it again, like he's avoiding it on purpose, the jerk. "Just, come on! Please!"
"As you wish."
For a second I want to chew him out for the reference, and for a second I want to kill him because he's taking his fingers out and what part of 'do something' doesn't he understand, and then I realize what he's going to do to me. The head of his cock presses against me and into me and fucking hell I knew this would suck.
He slides all the way in all at once. Mother fucking walrus cock shoving all the way in until it feels like it's going to come out my mouth. It hurts worse than... Well, worse than anything. Worse than when I fell off my bike and broke my arm. Worse than when Daryan hit me upside the head with a golf club when we were fourteen.
Next thing I know, he's holding me down, hands on my wrists above my head. I'm trying to kick him but there's nowhere to kick. It hurts, fuck, it hurts so much. He's telling me to shut up and smashing his mouth into mine and I can feel myself screaming into his mouth but I can't even hear it.
After forever the pain starts to go away. He's kissing me all open-like, and I think maybe he's trying to say I'm sorry but it's not quite coming out the way he wants it to. He's still holding me down and I can feel him shaking.
He kisses my face and I realize I'm crying and he's taking off the tears. But he's crying too, big fat drops hitting my face like hot rain. I've only ever seen him cry once, after Dad hit me for the first time and Kris wasn't there to stop him. He's saying sorry over and over again and part of me wants to forgive him. All the rest of me can think about is 'ow'.
He pulls out of me. That makes it hurt again but not nearly as much. I think I might be bleeding a little. One of his hands goes between his legs and I turn my head away. Somehow it feels wrong to watch.
I can feel him breathing into my neck when he comes.
---
He helps me into his crappy bathtub. At first the water stings like a bitch and then it feels kind of nice, and I could almost fall asleep in it. He sits awkwardly on the side of the tub for a second before wandering off without a word.
I don't know how to feel. I don't know what I want. I hate this, not knowing. Being confused. Everything about Kris always has to be so Goddamned complicated. It's always secrets and half truths and things neither of us really want to say. I wish it could be simple again.
I really do fall asleep in his ugly ass clean-as-a-whistle tub. I wake up in his bed at two in the afternoon. He makes me waffles. He asks me about home, about school, about the band. I give him the same one word answers I always give Mom. He tells me about some of his stranger clients. He never looks at me the whole time, and I don't look at him.
He orders up a return ticket over the internet. Time to go home.
When the cab finally comes, he touches my shoulder and says my name, and finally looks at me with these big sad hopeful eyes. He wants me to forgive him. He wants me to tell him that it's ok. He's not a monster.
I kiss him on the cheek and walk out the door.
After all, first times are supposed to suck.
---
"Mmpf."
"Hey, Daryan. It's me."
"Klav? What the fuck, man? It's, like... eight. On a Sunday."
"I know. I just got back from LA."
"Then fucking call me later, ass bag."
"Daryan, shut up for a minute, kay?"
"... 'Sup? You ok?"
"... Yeah. Look, can you come over?"
"Why? You looking for a booty call or something?"
"What? No. I'm not gay. Faggot."
"Ass hat."
"That's two ass-related insults in two minutes, D'ry. You're getting a fixation."
"Fuck you."
"... No. Seriously, though. I... I kind of... Need someone right now."
"I bet you do."
"Not like that you dick head."
"Now who's got a fixation, jerk face?"
"One doesn't count. Fuck tard."
"Totally does, you sanctimonious cunt."
"... Sanctimonious?"
"Shut the hell up. Detectives need a big vocabulary."
"Right. 'Vocabulary.'"
"Everything's about dicks with you today, isn't it?"
"Pfft... Walrus..."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Whatever. Lunatic. Oh, and Klavier?"
"Yeah?"
"Give me ten minutes."
"... Thanks."