Title: For the Love of My Brother (1/15)
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Human AU; 29 year old Xander is a successful businessman but he also lives as a sexual sub to his stepbrother’s alter ego, Spike. When William discovers something from Xander’s past, will it tear their relationship apart or make it stronger?
Warnings: Brother!Kink, B&D, spanking, angst galore, underage sex, first person POV,
Feedback/Concrit: Want it like a horny teenager/give it to me like a Vestal Virgin
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were
Beta: crazydiamondsue, who won’t let a little thing like not having a computer get in her way when I need a beta. Thanks!
A/N: As raunchy as this sounds, I’m dealing more with the physiological aspects of this relationship than the…eh-hem…naughty ones. Although there will be naughty scenes, that is not the focus of the story. This is not a PWP.
A/N 2: Written for bloodclaim’s The Colour, Sound and Random Object Spander Ficathon.
Author name: walta
Preferred rating and genre (ie NC-17, H/C, schmoop, angst, etc): Any rating.
Prefer humor with a pinch of angst.
Your Colour: orange
Your Sound: a trombone
Your Random Object: a much used journal
Two things you'd like included: 1. a non-sexual back scratch for one of the boys 2. manly bonding time
Two things you don't want included: 1. character bashing 2. Bliss
A/N 3: I did really well with most of the requirements but humor? So not my thing! In fact, until I looked at the email to copy the info over, I’d completely forgotten about that part. And I know some people don’t like Brother!kink stories but this just would not get out of my head. So, I hope that walta isn't too disappointed.
For the Love of my Brother
I watch the clock slowly tick down. It is nearing the end of another dreary workday. They’ve all been dreary since he left a month ago and didn’t say when he’d be back. I usually love my job as one of the junior Vice Presidents in a large construction firm, double checking blueprints to make sure everything is safe and up to code. I’ve worked hard to get here, paid my dues, and I deserve all the rewards that I’ve received.
But with him gone, it means nothing.
It’s the first time that I can’t keep my lives separate. And it’s crushing me. The looks and whispers…I’ve been growing more paranoid with everyday. Terrified that they’d guess what it is I do when I’m at home, living my other life.
I’ve done so well up till now but we’ve never been apart this long. He finally called last week, unfortunately, while I was still at work, and left a message to meet at the cabin tonight. Since I heard that message and cried myself to sleep, in relief for once, I haven’t been able to concentrate. My work has been slipping and as a result my workload has suspiciously lightened. I’m beginning to suspect that I have become part of the water cooler gossip.
If they only knew.
My co-workers and I all look alike; polished shoes, suits and ties, hair perfectly combed but I know that when everyone goes home, they are not at all what they appear. I, least of all.
I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else, but when those pants come off, I’m not like everyone else. My other life is far less ordinary than any water cooler gossip they could ever come up with.
I pay my own bills; cars, mortgage, student loans, just like everyone else. But I doubt everyone else has a basement filled with sex toys and bondage gear. Or maybe they do. Who am I to judge? I certainly wouldn’t be the poster boy for virtue and morality.
I’ve been on edge all day and didn’t want to waste time going back to the apartment to pack, so all my stuff is in the trunk of my car ready for the weekend. I live for the weekends. No phone calls, no annoying neighbors wanting to know how I’m doing, no disturbances. Usually I spend them chained up, tied down, bent over onto my knees or flat on my back. It’s heaven. But without him, it’s been sheer hell.
As we exit the building we scatter like drones of a suited queen bee around the city, taking any means of transportation to escape our weekly servitude in search of our other lives. Some in the hope of escaping that servitude and being kings or queens for the weekend. But some, like me, in search of another form of slavery.
My two lives never interact. No one knows about my family or what I do outside of the city. I doubt anyone cares. I’m pretty unassuming, with short dark hair, brown eyes and a light olive complexion. I’m not overly tall but I’m not short either, however I do have broad shoulders, something that’s always made me appear older. Overall, I guess you could say I’m just average. I blend into any crowd quite effortlessly and find it remarkably easy to disappear when I want to. Just like I’m doing now.
Giving the attendant my ticket, I pull out of the parking garage and pop my favorite CD into the player, then head north of the city, driving just slightly above the speed limit. Getting pulled over is the last thing I need but I can’t wait another moment to see him.
Each highway I take gets smaller and smaller until finally I’m on a two-lane road, far from the city, the sinking sun at my back shining into my eyes from the rear view mirror. I follow the curving road into dense woods and climb into the mountains, leaving the bright sun behind. It only takes two hours to reach my destination but it feels like it took forever. Normally the drive through the beautiful lush area would help to alleviate my stress but today is special. A month’s worth of tension is still riding on my shoulders and the drive was unbearable because of it.
I slow down to pull off the main road, but not by enough, and I hit the lower dirt road hard. The car bounces dangerously and the tires spin in the air. I frantically grab onto the wheel to regain control and hope I don’t barrel roll into the trees. Breathing hard, fingers tight around the steering wheel, I pull the car around once it hits the ground and get it under control. No matter how many times I’ve made that turn, it never ceases to surprise me. And no matter how many times I’ve begged him to fix it, he refuses.
Pulling up to the small cabin, I see his beat up DeSoto and smoke billowing steadily out from the chimney. He’s been here for awhile, long enough to have a fire underway. I curse as I get out of the car. I should have called in sick! Why didn’t I? I have several days stored up. I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself. I know exactly why I didn’t beg off of work. Someone needs to go and take care of things. That someone is me.
I allow myself a moment to shake off the work day, breathing in the cool night air tinged with firewood smoke, listening as the creatures of the night wake in their burrows, letting the world around me fall away to nothing but this cabin as I unbutton my cuffs and take off my tie.
A small part of me hopes he decided to cook. Since I was too nervous to eat at lunch, I’m starving. But I also groan at the thought of how much cleaning I’d need to do. Messy doesn’t even come close to covering the way he cooks. More like total and utter chaos.
I walk around to the back of the car and pull the supplies out of the trunk. I haul a bag over each shoulder and walk quickly up to the front door. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I slowly try the knob.
The separation was horrible. I’d never felt so alone but thankfully now that he’s back, things can return to normal, well, as normal as they are for us. I want him badly. I need him, but after so long apart it would just take awhile to adjust.
I have so many questions. Why did he leave? Why couldn’t he tell me anything? Where’s he been? I just hope he’s willing to answer my questions and give me some time to relax before we dive back into our routine. I put on an air of confidence I don’t truly feel and walk in.
Our small one and a half story cabin is beautiful and I can’t imagine not having this place as my refuge, I completely adore it. We wanted something far enough away from the city that no one would bother us. It took us awhile to find the perfect one but when we did, we bought it immediately.
The upper half floor has two bedrooms and a bathroom with a wide banister over looking the living room, which is currently lit in the soft warm glow of the fireplace and candles that are spread throughout the room. The banister surrounding the upper level is decked out in shiny tinsel and colorful beads. We don’t really celebrate the holidays, but I like the decorations. And even though the season is still a few months away, he has already done all of it, everything, except for the tree, which we always forgo. I’m surprised he started early this year but shrug it off as a thoughtful way to revive our relationship after the long absence.
The 5 disk CD player is currently playing my favorite holiday music, Edward Scissorhands. Yeah, I know it isn’t holiday music. But to me, the story of an outcast who doesn’t have hands…just something about it makes my heart stir. “Ice Dance” is currently playing and I could almost see Winona Ryder spinning around in our living room in that bad blond wig.
He has already pulled out our blankets and set them in front of the fireplace. I guess giving me time to adjust is out. My heart beat speeds up a little in anticipation. I better start getting ready before I disappoint him. I drop the bag filled with my ordinary change of clothes behind the couch and with the other one, head for the stairs. But I stop as a loud clatter comes from the kitchen, a sure sign that he’s decided to cook.
Dropping the other bag, I turn and head through the doorway, where I spot him bopping around from counter to counter, headphones on, and naked except for an apron. The crash I heard was the tin of utensils being knocked over and they’re now sprawled out all over the floor. Dangerous knifes, prongs, and whisks are a minefield as he tries to continue on in his cooking. He uses one mittened hand to balance a tray of cookies over his head and uses one bare foot to kick the door to the stove closed, while the other hand holds a dripping wooden spoon. The door to the microwave is open, and whatever is inside has bubbled out of the container, making a complete mess. The pots on the stove aren’t doing much better and if he isn’t careful he’ll be stepping in hot water as well as sharp, pointy objects.
Just then he sees me watching him and stops, then shakes the headphones off to fall around his neck. My heart beats faster and the breath catches in my throat. My lover is far from ordinary. I’m slightly taller than he is but with his attitude, he towers over me. He usually keeps his hair a shocking bottle blond but I can see roots just peaking out and wonder at the change. He has piercing blue eyes that see right through me, I can’t keep anything from him. That includes the lust rampaging through my system at the sight of him. He works out everyday, keeping himself fit and trim. I’ve often taken my rewards by simply running my fingers over his muscles, feeling the skin ride back and forth over them.
But now I wonder if I’m due for a punishment? Was I not quick enough, is he going to be mad that I’m not ready for him? He smiles and starts to come towards me but slides on a large serving spoon. He wobbles but manages to stay upright, sliding the spoon over the linoleum floor like he’s surfing a wave, until I can catch him. The cookies don’t fare as well and fly from the sheet at the impact. As we are showered in hot chocolate chip cookies he smiles up at me and my heart bursts. He isn’t mad. He puts down the cooking sheet and we wrap our arms around each other.
“Welcome home, little brother.” He whispers, gently nibbling at my ear.
Yes, this is home. In his…my brother’s…arms.
It wasn’t always this way. I know that what we do is wrong but he came into my life at a time when I desperately needed him and he has been the one constant ever since. I’d do anything for him and I’ve proven that over and over again. If he hadn’t started in on me while I was so young, I don’t know what would have happened. Would I still have been gay? Does it really matter anymore? This is where I feel the safest, the most loved.
When he said he had to leave and that he wouldn’t be sure when he would be back, my world crumbled. But I continued in that other life, doing my job because someone had to make sure everyone else’s worlds were safe. Even though my world was gone. Now he is back and our lives would begin again.
My brother, my lover, my master. He is all one and the same. In short, he is my world.