"You can't respect someone who kisses your ass. It just doesn't work." Ferris Bueller's Day Off played in the background as Manny played on the floor. Two seconds after the quote ended, a nagging mother walked into the room with mittens on and brows tightly knitted across her forehead. "Boys, you know how I feel about profanity! Now turn that thing off when your little brother's around, he's still only 7!" "Only 7!" Manny had to go and parrot; with a cookie in his mouth and another in his hand.
But Rodrick wasn't listening. He was stoned out of his mind. All he could think about was this weekend and how much pot he'd be smoking - high as hell, only wanting to go higher. "Rodrick, change the channel." Their mother requested calmly. "Damn good actress." Rodrick thought to himself; eyes still straight ahead, on and into the screen and its contents. They were right, the first and second smoke were the peak of them all, there's no going back there but you'll never forget it either. Greg seemed to wiggle awkwardly, Rodrick guessed based on the shift of weight on his end. "Fine." There was no argument to make, he wasn't as relentless as people credited him for. In reality, he was far too lazy to object. Usually, it's later when he gets what he wants.
So he tosses the control to his little brother's side, sighing as though exasperated. "Gregory, choose something appropriate. It's Father's Day, and you know how he feels about these things." That was in her perception, but their dad didn't actually care. It was her - Susan's misconception of things all true in their nature. This wasn't Nature vs. Nurture - this was already set and done. Their family was a failure, there's no way in hiding it now.
Especially not now.
Not when he'd rather have Greg suck his cock than the girl he'd invited for the party he planned on hosting this Saturday. She was always down, there was no question about it, but what he really and truly doubted was his own will.
"Got it, mom." The 14 year old replied; hand drawn to the TV with the remote in his grasp. Flipping to a further channel, they found USA - a pretty good one to land on, it seemed to Greg as Rodrick watched the boy become immersed from the corner of his eye. Their mother had left to tend for their dinner while Rodrick with eyes bloodshot and red, turned his head and watched his little brother. 14 - 14 years on this planet and what was once Rodrick's utmost fear became reality. What else? Rodrick was the immediate target of all Gods, he knew that at this very moment. Greg sat there; back leaned against the rest, snug as his eyes mirrored the TV screen from beneath full lashes. "He's so fucking naive." Rodrick practically panted outloud, but only sighed; words playing on his lips but only causing him to bite his lip towards the end.
The windows made no glare now that it was night, but everything seemed to make Greg's figure more prominent in Rodrick's droopy, tripping eyes. He was a spectacle - a piece of art that Rodrick was more than willing to drum. He was so willing, so swollen for Greg. It was almost as if they weren't related, but even more so because they are. It'd been three years, an entire three years that he hasn't broken his leash. But now that he knew that sight - now that he's met the sweaty, wanton Gregory kneading his covers with one hand and beating his meat with the other, all Rodrick wanted to do...Only God's seen the places Greg's been in Rodrick's head.
It'd been a month earlier. Rodrick was lurking in the corridors as he did whenever he'd awake in the night, seeking the carton of milk that rest refrigerated, branded by Rodrick's lips; too lazy to grab a glass and serve himself. With the milk in his hold, he'd wander - and always seemed to find himself leaning against his little brother's door. He'd listen for sounds, or just sit there at the end of the door with a pathetic stare, going nowhere, focusing on nothing in particular. But last month, what he found was entirely different. He'd finally listened for something there. At last, Gregory made a sound. Like the house in the woods that no one would've heard lest it fall on one's house and break through the infrastructure.
Gregory broke through the infrastructure; the thin piece of wood that separated Rodrick's ear from the heavy musk in Greg's room. It'd become humid, Rodrick immediately knew, as he gently turned the knob and opened the door for himself to see. Gregory laid there, head tilted back and neck exposed. One leg was beneath the covers, the other bent to make view for his hand, hastily stroking up and down, up and down like a desperate job that needed to be done. Rodrick watched through whole thing, mindless as to the possibility of getting caught. Gregory's eyes were shut, face twisted from time to time then relaxed whenever a moan seemed to sneak out from between his lips.
That night, the weak did not sleep. No, Rodrick was far too much awake, and far too horny to go without busting a nut.
"Boys, supper's ready!" Mrs. Heffley called out, then made her way to the basement's door to let the boys' father know.
"Are you high?" Greg asked suddenly, and Rodrick realized he'd gotten up from the couch. Shit, he was. "Shut up, Greg." Rodrick warned, grabbing a plate and sitting at the table. This was probably at top 5 of his lamest life traits. His family wasn't even moderately modern, but ancient as hell. "I'm just saying, mom and dad would kill you if they found out." The kid complained, leaving Rodrick to roll his eyes. "Stop worrying about me and mind your own business." He said simply, clicking his tongue that he had to wait for his parents. "Can I...Rodrick, could you...-" It was his fault anyway that he'd hesitated. Greg couldn't finish his thought, presumably being a hazard now that his mother had walked back into the room. "So, let's see what this is~" Their father sung, beaming when he'd finally gotten to his end of the table. "Oh, stake! Is this for me, honey? Oh, you shouldn't have!" Of course she should have - she needed to. If the woman hadn't cooked the perfect stake for Frank Heffley, he wouldn't even touch her between the sheets at night. Rodrick knew this, he's been eavesdropping since his 4th birthday.
They'd gotten situated at the table, all of them and said their brief prayer. Rodrick, actually, watching Greg from across the way, chewing on the inside of his cheek; tearing the flesh and all. Greg was such a good boy. He had all this potential to be a trickster, to be a con, but he was simply a sweetheart. He had an attitude, but his morals were intact. Not only that, but his mind was intact. Rodrick was 21 now, and edgier than a screwdriver.
Shadier than the evening.
"Amen." The three of them said in unison, while Rodrick had cast out; being the only one to never get the concept of prayer. Rather, he sat silently; only caring to eat his mother's food. On the other side of the table, Manny was still being fed like a baby and pampered like a toddler - was he even considered one anymore?
He didn't know what time it was when he got up, all he knew was that his alarm hadn't gone off yet. He's got to be up this morning at 8:00 AM. By the time he'd gotten to the bathroom, his stomach was about to give. Whenever he's even the slightest bit sick, he feels like this. But their was problem was this; he wasn't sick. No fever, no soar throat or snot. Just lots of headaches. And these headaches happen when he goes a couple nights without rubbing one out. His body sweats, his knees give out. This happens when he's on his legs the whole day, gets home and watches his friend's porn collection. A couple were filming videos of them fucking girls at their campuses, but Rodrick was watching for more reasons than just that. It was fucked up, it was, but he was sicker than all these videos combined.
His morning routine went uninterrupted as he stalled for each, individual thing. Brushing his teeth was a drag, making some coffee, serving himself coffee, preparing the coffee for himself. Everything dragged on. Here he was, at 21. Still living with his parents. His brothers weren't so young anymore. He suddenly wasn't so young anymore.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he heard someone walk in from behind him and he looked over his shoulder; on at to a dressing Greg. He was with a turtle-neck sweater around his neck, pulling it on before facing an unfazed Rodrick. "Hey, Rodrick." Greg stared at first, but soon shyed away to serve a bowl of cereal in silence. Rodrick shifted; hip leaning onto the counter as he sipped from his mug of coffee. "Need a ride to school?" He asked precariously, drinking from his mug now, eyes drinking hungrily like his lips. "Y-yeah." The boy said cautiously - and reluctantly, as obvious as it was to Rodrick. "Before and after?" Rodrick stirred his cup with a thin, pointing straw. Greg only nodded, feeding from a spoon. The elder brother watched hungrily, glaring like he did when masking from his emotions. To Gregory, he was intimidating. He was testing.
Rodrick's just an animal.
"Fuck, he's such a slut, fuuuuck..." Rodrick cursed, stroking with a hand curled around his erect prick. What was happening in his head, was not what was really happening. No, he was fantasizing. He was creating this separate reality in his mind where his little brother was taking it hard and fast and he was at his mercy in the back of the van. No, this morning, he'd dropped him off. Greg opened the door and walked in the direction of his school's front entrance. Yes, that's what happened. But right now, jerking off as he sped to work, Greg was sucking him off. At the stop light, he used his right hand with securing the Rooster hat atop his head, the left doing a lousy job at bringing him to a climax, rather just beating off his arousal. "God, fucking shit,"
Parking terribly, not even half-aligned with the position, Rodrick, stumbled through the back entrance and walked through the back-walls of the mall towards the food section. There, at the local burger joint, Rodrick checked in with his meat tucked between his waist-band and his pelvis.
Luckily, she was there. The sidehoe, the willing party. She was always there, the most frequent coworker of his as they work during the weekdays. Not many people can work during their shifts; this chick dropped out of school, living with her drug-addict mom or so that's what he presumed. Rodrick did think it obvious, though; judging by the times she'd come and pick the girl up what with her horrible skin and a cigarette between her fingers to ease the jitteryness that warped her every move. Once they were in back, smoking a joint, and Rodrick did get a good look at the holes in her mother's arms.
She was down on her knees in no time - no fuss at all. I was fucking her mouth with the struggle that was not mentioning Greg's name. He had to keep quiet, because that's all he could think about. It was sick. Everything was sick to him because everything about him was sick.
But that's what marked the end of Rodrick's penalty-free ward skipping. Rodrick was utterly fucked now. Rodrick was subject to authority at this very moment. "Hayleigh?! What the hell is going on here?!" Turns out, her uncle ran the place. I was in this because I hadn't been caught on my rebellious streak just yet.
Just yet.