Now, onto the good stuff. We finally meet present day William!
Title: For the Love of My Brother (3/15)
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, underage sex, B&D, spanking, angst galore, first person POV, some other things I'm probably forgetting.
Feedback: Want it like a horny teenager
Concrit: Give it to me like a Vestal Virgin, in other words, with lots of lube. (in comments is fine)
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were
Betas: crazydiamondsue and spikesgurl. Thank you both so much!
A/N 1: Written for bloodclaim’s The Colour, Sound and Random Object Spander Ficathon.
A/N 2: 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 3: If the idea of two teen-age boys doing naughty things to each other bothers you...don't click the link.
A/N 4: I'll be using flashbacks throughout this story. They will be separate chapters and written in the past tense. Everything else is written in the present tense. Hope this doesn't confuse anyone.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Previously, in the present…
“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.
Snuggling into Will’s arms, I indulge in the embrace, running my hands down his hard, smooth body, feeling his soft perfect skin under my fingers. His warmth envelops me as I rub my nose into the hair at the back of his neck, breathing in his unique scent of hair gel and moisturized skin, now covered in chocolate and garlic.
I’m taking liberties I otherwise wouldn’t be able to, if William had greeted me as Spike. With Spike everything is hard, fast, bright and sometimes more than a little painful, physically and emotionally. Will just doesn’t have that in him, he’s too tender. His calm, sweet, and loving nature shines through in everything he does. And compared to Spike’s brusque, lustful commands, Will is a pussycat in comparison.
Over the years Will had mellowed, no longer angry with our parents for their neglect and lack of maturity. Through the years we were all we had, anchoring each other in a world that held little solace for either of us. In Will I was finally able to find the unconditional love I had sought for so long. I felt safe and loved; knowing what it was to be accepted, to find a place all my own.
And I found that place only in my brother.
I can feel Will trembling slightly against me, holding on just as tight. Like so many times before when I let myself believe there was something else there, something besides what I can give Spike with my tongue, teeth, and ass. Something more than just my body and absolute obedience, but I know the feeling isn’t real and soon he is pulling out of my arms.
Just like William always does.
I’ve tried to be intimate with Will, kissing him passionately, touching him in ways he shies away from. There have been a few times that I thought I’d succeeded in seducing Will, but Spike is always there, looming in the background, making sure I know it isn’t my brother I’m pleasing sexually. Will is just my brother, but Spike is my lover.
I smile weakly, acknowledging Will’s willingness to tolerate my fantasies, even if for only moments at a time. Will tries to smile back, like he was only a moment ago, but now his lips just twitch and he can’t seem to meet my eyes. Instead he’s focusing somewhere near my chin.
When he can’t look me in the eye, I start to piece together some of the other subtle differences in him; his grown out hair, the loss of the piercing through his left eyebrow, his nervous nature.
“Doing your best impression of The Naked Chef?” I try and joke, knowing something isn’t right here.
“Cute.” He smirks, then shrugs, “Don’t know, just thought you might like it.”
“Oh, I do,” I nod a little over-zealously, “but does this mean….” I motion behind me indicating the stairs and implying the need for me to change out of my clothes and into my gear.
Will darts a quick, frightened look behind me and I’m half expecting someone to be standing there. I look over my shoulder but, of course, we’re alone. I feel silly and chuckle nervously as I turn back around.
I’m met by a searing, savage, and hungry gaze from Will. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable; Will usually withdraws from situations that intense.
I break eye contact and stutter out, “S-so, uh…what’s with the early Christmas? The music, decorations…” I hold up a cookie that has managed to stay on the baking sheet, “…cookies. And what happened to your eyebrow ring?”
Will pulls back into himself as he self-consciously rubs the scar over his left eye and grumbles, “What’s with the third degree? Can’t a bloke want to do something nice for once?”
“Yeah, once. I usually have to hound you for weeks to get that stuff out.”
He continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “And look at you, what’s with the long hair?” He gently tugs at my ragged strands.
“You’re one to talk.” I nod at his head, soft brown roots hide under an disheveled mess of platinum gelled curls, “No peroxide where you were?”
Again I’m ignored. “Haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you? Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, voice soft and hesitant.
If he had been so worried about my well-being, he could have been here! What exactly am I supposed to say? No, I hadn’t been sleeping well. And no, I haven’t been taking care of myself since he left. There hadn’t been a point!
As it was, it was nearly impossible to look in the mirror while he was gone. Being with Spike just made everything easier. I could relax and let him handle everything but with him gone…I completely fell apart. On some of the darker days, the days I thought he’d never return, it was a wonder I managed to not slit my throat with my razor as I quickly did my morning routine. I probably would have eventually grown a beard if he had been gone any longer.
I want to be honest but I also don’t want him to worry about me, so I put my anger aside and try to sugarcoat the issue. “Well, it’s not been the greatest.”
He seems to take that in, nodding solemnly, eyes downcast. This is just too much; what he is doing and saying, or more accurately, not saying, is sending huge warning bells off all over my head.
And then I just can’t stop myself. I need to know where he was and what he was doing. I try to sound calm, not intending to appear rattled, but my words come out shrill and edgy, “Are you going to tell me why you left?”
I have only a moment to see the distress flash across his features before he abruptly turns, going to the stove and turning the heat down. “So, how was the drive?” he asks nonchalantly, the perfect picture of calm and casual.
Even as he exposes that gorgeous, tight, round ass, I grit my teeth, knowing I’m not going to get any answers. William will talk when he’s ready. Accepting that, I let the questions stop.
“Fine,” I sigh, giving in.
I look up, reluctantly pulling my eyes away from his body and realize that he misunderstood and thought I was referring to the drive. Not wanting to correct him I continue, “Oh, uh…yeah, except for that section in between the turn out and the road and yes, I know you’re never going to fix it.” I’ve intended several times to try and fix it on my own but he never lets me out of our playroom long enough for it to be worth it. After a dozen times of bringing up the equipment and never so much as touching it, I finally gave up.
“That’s not true! Got us some shovels and gravel and this will be the perfect time to do it.” He smirks, “This time we’ll do it together.” He comes back towards me.
He might as well have said he had just spent this time apart on the moon. With everything else he’s doing differently tonight, I’m shocked and I’m not going to try and hide it anymore. “What? Why? You always say you like it that way. What’s with the change? All the changes!”
He lowers his head and seems really interested in a thread working loose from a button on my shirt. Oh, great, now I’ve got to get out the needle and thread and fix that.
“No reason. Just missed you.” Now he’s looking at the floor, covered in smashed cookies and fallen utensils, as if he just noticed he knocked them over.
“Yeah?” I want to believe it’s that simple, but I’m skeptical.
“Yeah,” he bends down and picks up the fallen scissors, “you think I want you to go flying off into the trees?”
Then he grabs the end of the thread and with the scissors cuts it off. He can pay attention to a wayward strand of fabric but not answer my questions about what he’s been doing all month! Where’s he been? Who he’s been with? That thread is the final straw.
I take a step back and cross my arms. Defensive position? You betcha! “What’s going on?” I demand.
“Nothing.” He lays the scissors down.
He looks stunned, as if I had slapped him. Usually I don’t talk back to him. I can count with one hand the number of times I accused him of something or spoken ‘out-of-turn’ since our sexual relationship began.
Inside, I wanted to run and hide and beg his forgiveness but I know something is horribly wrong and he isn’t ‘fessing up. I know whatever it is, it’s bad.
“Got some stuff to tell you and was hoping to get a little time in before I did. Is that so wrong?” he spits the last out, as if I’d hurt him. My brother may be tender and sweet but he also has a secret strength; nothing hurts him, least of all me. I’ve only seen him cry once and that was while we were both still very young. Seeing him crack…it’s very unnerving, like I had suddenly been thrust into The Twilight Zone.
“No.” I whisper.
“Good, so…uh, why don’t you head into the room and change and I’ll get dinner on.”
I immediately obey the order, turning around and mentally preparing myself to put Will out of my mind for the weekend.
“I mean no,” he stops me, grabbing at my arm with a quivering hand, “uh…no. Don’t do that. Go and relax in front of the fire and I’ll bring you out a plate.” He slowly lowers his arm, then turns his back to me and heads over to the stove, easily skirting the items on the floor.
And just like that, the conversation is over.
I’d been dismissed so easily. Rejection, like a frozen flood, washes through me. It’s all starting to add up. This is the last piece of the puzzle I needed to confirm something I’ve been terrified of since I fell in love with him. He is ending it. Just like that. He went away and must have fallen in love with someone else, someone that wasn’t his brother. And now he wants out.
My whole life is falling apart before my eyes and I can’t do a thing to stop it. If he wants out, I have to let him go. I want him to be happy but not like this. Why without me? My whole life was structured around him, him controlling me, him being my everything. Without him, what am I?
It feels like my insides have been ripped out. I am nothing.
Nothing without him
I nod at empty space, numb, in shock. Somehow I manage not to fall on my way to the fire. I sit as close to the flames as I can. I can’t feel the heat. I can’t feel anything. I just sit and watch the flames as they consume the day’s paper and the burning logs. Sit and wonder how I had lost him. What had I done wrong? Was I not good enough? Obedient enough? Not as exciting as the other people he had been with? Maybe he just got bored. Over and over my head swims with reasons why he’s calling it quits. Why he is leaving me.
I really don’t remember removing the protection grate and getting so close the flames that the clothes on my right leg and arm started to smolder. I never felt the heat or heard the flames kick up. I never even heard Will screaming my name until he was on top of me, slapping at my limbs, face contorted in fear.
But then, I remember feeling loved. Loved, because he came when I needed him, even if I didn’t know it.
“Bloody hell, what’s wrong with you!” he yells, trembling above me once the fire is out.
“Wrong?” I mumble, pain seeping back into my world. Blinding, searing pain. I know I’m going to pass out, the room is starting to spin and things are getting blurry, watery. That can’t be my brother with tears streaming down his face. My brother doesn’t cry. I’m the bad one. Those must be my tears.
“You tell me,” I say, as I wince and buck, fighting the nausea. “What did I do wrong?”
Then I close my eyes against the pain and slip into sweet oblivion.