“Dammit.” I eyed the remote to Reese’s TV on his bed. “Ugh.” I grunted as I forced myself up again.
I heard the shower running, which triggered a memory from a dream to pop up in my head, so I hurriedly turned on the TV and found an old episode of X-Files running. It was good enough. Way better than the shit I’d started dreaming about at night lately. I mean, it was nothing. It was just hormones.
Reese was the guy I saw all the time, even more so since he stopped going out every weekend. We’d spent way more time together this year, and he was fucking shameless. So, it meant nothing that he’d starred in some dreams. In some meaningless snippets. Quick flashes—fragments, really.
It was nothing. It was nothing.
I yawned and scratched my stomach as Mulder tried to convince Scully that something was fishy. How she never fucking learned her lesson was amazing.
Reese appeared a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his hips, holding two plates and two Cokes.
“Thanks, Ma.” I accepted a plate and sat up.
“Eat up quick,” he yawned.
This was the best sandwich out there. He called them basic; it was just a shit-ton of cheese, butter, and oregano between two slices of toast, but man, they were good. And he used shredded mozzarella, not the cheddar that only belonged on burgers.
“You’re a god, baby brother,” I said with my mouth full. “Fuck.” It was burning hot, though. Jesus.
“Six minutes,” he replied flatly. “You’re six minutes older.”
“Minutes or years, you’re still my baby brother.”
He rolled his eyes and took a swig from his Coke.
* * *
“If we don’t get up soon, we’ll be up all night,” he mumbled sleepily.
“I don’t care.” I buried my face against his neck and stretched out my legs with a groan. “We can stay up and watch movies in the living room.”
It felt too good. The room was cold, so we’d thrown both our covers over us before our nap, and there was no way I’d leave this spot anytime soon.
Reese hummed and drew his fingers up and down my back, which wouldn’t motivate me to move either. I shivered and pressed myself closer to him.
“I wonder if he’s started hiding his porn yet,” he mused.
I chuckled. “Doubtful.”
Pop owned an impressive movie collection, and one of the smaller shelves was all porn. Straight porn, obviously. Nothing we’d be interested in, though I was sure Pop kept it out in case our sexuality was, in fact, just a phase.
Jackass.
“Fuck,” Reese whispered. “I forgot to bring any.”
“What, porn?”
“Yeah.”
“I have some under my bed.” I yawned and rolled onto my back.
My tastes had developed in the last two years, so I wasn’t sure he’d like any of it. I only had three movies and one magazine left.
Reese withdrew his arm from under my neck and twisted his body to reach below my bed, and he had no problems digging out my little stash.
“Let’s see what you got—Jesus Christ. This is some violent shit, Riv.”
I cracked one eye open to see what he was looking at. It was the case cover for some dungeon scenes—probably the one I watched the most.
“That one’s good,” I murmured. “There’s this one scene about twenty minutes in where a guy beats an older dude until he shoots. No hands on his dick or anything. The pain gets him off. It’s so fucking hot.”
Reese flicked me a skeptical look.
I chuckled and pushed myself up on my elbow, and I nodded at the TV. “Trust me. Try for yourself. I can leave if you want.”
He snorted and sat up. “Like I give a crap.”
I knew he didn’t. We were two eighteen-year-old guys and shared a room. We’d lost count of the number of times we’d walked in on each other—or hell, woken up with hard-ons with the other mere inches away. I mean, we were still mindful. I tried to jerk off more in the shower and less in our room, and I was pretty sure he did the same. But occasionally, of course shit happened in the dark, under the covers.
Reese tightened the towel around his hips and plugged in the player on the floor under the TV.
“Twenty minutes in?” he asked.
“Yeah, about.”
I wanted to see what he thought about that kind of porn.
I’d actually thought about asking him before.
Once Reese had fast-forwarded it to the beginning of that scene, he pushed play and returned to my bed and got under the covers.
I didn’t know how many times I’d watched this scene last summer when we were here. Whenever Reese had left the house to hang out with buddies, I’d borrowed his TV.
The backdrop in the movie consisted of some latex cover and had a bunch of pain implements hanging on hooks. Paddles, whips, riding crops, floggers, and whatnot. Then an older man in his thirties strapped to a bench, facedown in a hole like one of those massage tables, and a guy in his early twenties going to town on the man’s ass. It started with spanking, and the man’s ass was already red.
“The man really enjoys that?” Reese asked.
“Wait till he turns over,” I said. “He’s hard as a rock.”
So was I gonna be any second now.
We watched in silence for a few minutes, and I slipped a hand down my pants when the young guy in the movie called his partner a dirty, desperate whore. I wasn’t gonna get off or anything—and it wasn’t like Reese could see me—but I needed some pressure.
It was incredible how the older man moved on the bench. How he pleaded, how he tried to rub his cock against the table, how he moaned.
“Damn,” Reese mumbled.
“I know, right?” We watched the man roll over and get on his back, and the younger guy berated him for being so hard.
It only turned the man on even more.
Reese let out an unsteady breath, and I caught his arm shifting under the covers.
I swallowed hard and felt my focus drift from the movie.
We had friends who jerked off together all the fucking time, but because we were brothers, that was a no-go. It was messed up.
Okay, it wasn’t messed up, but goddammit. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t chosen to feel curious about some things. They were just there.
I wished I were normal.
“That’s hot,” Reese murmured.
I shifted my gaze to his face and didn’t care about what he was watching on the TV. I found it more interesting to see how Reese clenched his jaw and how his eyes were heavy with lust. He got off on my kind of porn; he couldn’t deny it. Rolling onto my side again, I happened to slip a little closer to him, just enough for me to feel whenever he moved his arm. So much for being appropriate—for both of us.
Fuck boundaries, I wanted to say. I knew it was wrong; I knew I couldn’t explain away that shit like I could with my dreams. At night, I had no control over what happened, and it wasn’t real anyway. This was real, though. And I had no excuses for why I wanted to see Reese in his most vulnerable and carnal state.
I gripped my cock a bit tighter and admitted to myself that I wanted to push my brother too. I wanted to see how much I could get away with.
There was something seriously disturbed about me.