In this chapter we see young Xander make some very grown-up decisions.
ETA: The lovely and talented elizabeth_cs just surprised me with this banner and blew me away!
Thank you, Sweetie!
Title: For the Love of My Brother (6/15)
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, bondage/dominance/submission, spanking, angst galore, first person POV, some other things I'm probably forgetting.
Feedback/Concrit:: Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie (concrit in comments is fine)
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were
Betas: crazydiamondsue and spikesgurl. Thank you both so much! I couldn't have done it without you both.
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: The past and the present are both represented in this story, in separate chapters. The past is written in the past tense, the present in the present tense.
Previous chapters can be found here.
Previously, in the past…
My stomach curled in on itself as I realized that maybe my brother was hurt. I couldn’t fathom it, but just…maybe.
My entire body shook, my teeth chattering together as I fought away the nausea. I crawled down the hallway, on my hands and knees, and onto the tile. The closer I got, the more terror I felt. I ignored the pain as glass cut into my palms and knees. I was only focused on getting to my brother.
I struggled up to him, sobs now taking over my body. I could barely see through the tears clouding my vision. I looked down at him and saw blood and alcohol splattered on his face and neck. Blood was pooling into his left eye from a deep gash through his eyebrow and also coming from his nose, which slid around his lips before traveling down his cheek to splash onto the tile. I collapsed over him, choking on my own tears as I tried to wake him up, pulling at his clothes, spreading our blood together over his face and hair, cooing to him and petting him.
I’d never been more scared. He was everything to me and now he was hurt. It was all my fault. All of it. I never should have been born. What I wanted had hurt my brother. I’m dirty and wrong.
I started begging for him to be all right, to forgive me, to take me with him. I’d do anything to have him back, just to not leave me. But he didn’t move, didn’t wake up, and didn’t make everything all right. When I realized I couldn’t drag him back to our bedroom, I crawled up on top of him and wrapped my arms around him. Laying my head against his chest, I took what little comfort I could from listening to his steady heartbeat and slow, even breaths. Then trying to match my breathing to his, I cried myself to sleep.
Feather light touches. Slide of a hand on my knee, up my thigh, over the most sensitive parts of me. Breath hot on my face, my neck, dirty little accented whispers in my ear. The glide of sweat-slick skin against skin. Fingers wound and pulling at my hair. Hips thrust up and body yearning for just one more touch, just one more inch of contact…and then the surge and seize and fluid spurting, flowing out, coating our bodies, making us slick for only moments before it dried and flaked. Head raised and I was caught by his eyes, the piercing blue that saw right through me, right down to my very soul. They saw the truth and still there was only love, only right.
No wrong. No hate. No disgust.
That was why I knew it was nothing but a dream.
I was with Will and I didn’t hate myself.
I’d never felt this way while awake. For those brief moments I let myself fantasize about Will, when I let the truth seep through my defenses, the walls I put up to pretend, it was a nightmare. The disgust was almost overwhelming. I’d quickly slam the bars down over the doors and build bigger walls.
But in dreams…in my dreams, it was the one place, the one time, I could think this way about my brother and I could be free. Free to not admit how wrong it really was. Dreams were something I couldn’t control, just a part of my brain taking me on a strange trip through places and things I’d never really do, never really feel. Dreams were fiction, not real, nothing but fanciful lies. Dreams weren’t my fault. They were just something I could sit back and enjoy, free from guilt, free from fear, and free from shame.
But when I’d wake up, the beautiful dream of acceptance was nothing like my stark reality, the fear of hatred so strong I could taste the rising bile in the back of my throat and on my tongue. It was then that I had to hide my true face, so he would never see the real monster in me. Never making eye contact would mean never revealing the truth, never giving him the chance to see inside my soul to witness the demon taking over. Dreams didn’t hurt so damn much.
So that’s why I knew I had to be dreaming.
Will was standing over me, staring down, as I lay motionless on my bed. He was wearing only a towel plastered to his damp hips, a hand tightly gripping the fabric. He looked absolutely delicious, dripping wet with his curls in wild soaked clumps piled on his head.
And I didn’t feel any pain.
His gaze didn’t waver, he just continued to stare. And I stared back. I felt free. No shame, no fear, no self-loathing, this had to be a dream, so I lay still and waited to see what my mind had in store for me next.
I couldn’t tell what this dream-Will was thinking; his face was set in a neutral stare. Usually in my dreams, he was so expressive, his big bright smile radiating joy at just my presence, or his mouth twisting open in ecstasy whenever we touched. But not now.
Now, I waited.
It was unnerving, the way he was studying me; like I was one of the science class’s butterflies, pinned through, stuck to a torn piece of foam and hung on the wall. And like that butterfly, I couldn’t move. Pinned in place not by a sharp needle but by his sharp unwavering gaze. Every muscle was frozen, not in death, but by anticipation.
And so I waited.
We’d been dressing in front of each other for awhile now, and in my dreams much longer than that. I knew what he looked like; whether he was wet from sweat after a work out, or from a shower, I had no illusions that Will was anything other than the slim and toned sixteen-year-old that he was. I know I’m not supposed to feel this way about my brother, I know it’s wrong to look at him like this, but I wanted nothing more than to kneel at his feet and worship, paying homage by licking the water from his body. In my young, hormone, lust-addled brain he was a god. My god. My tongue seemed to agree as it moved on its own to wet my lips.
And I waited!
I didn’t understand. Why wasn’t he doing anything? The waiting stretched out, eternity in the blink of an eye, a blink that turned my blistering need for him into the threatening inferno it had always been.
But then, if I were dreaming I wouldn’t have this hole, this gaping wound in my chest, filled with uncertainty. I’d know his feelings, laid open before me in my dream state. But now, he was elusive, an unknowable equation, something intangible. How could this be a dream if he was so far away from me? Why would this desperate need be so blatant, so exposed? I should be inside where it was safe, where I was loved, but I wasn’t inside. I was outside, dying of exposure, laid bare to the elements, not of wind and cold but of my emotions, buried so deep they couldn’t touch me...until now. But somehow, someway, without any effort at all, Will had picked apart my protective shell, scratching, gnawing, and clawing until he’d dug them up, exhumed them, rolled them over and sliced through the thin membrane holding them in and now they were a gnarled, tangled mess writhing, slithering over me.
Then I knew. For that one bewildering moment I was Wile E. Coyote, chasing after the Roadrunner when the bridge disappears out from under me and I’m falling headfirst through the deep canyon to the raging rapids below.
This wasn’t a dream. This was real. And that meant I was trapped forever in my worst nightmare because this…with Will, this obsession, this hopeless passion and impossible love I had for him...it was real. I couldn’t run from it. I couldn’t hide from it.
I choked back a gasp, the breath catching in my throat as shivery, small trembles rippled down my flesh, leaving cold sweat in their wake. All the feelings I was afraid of…afraid I couldn’t control… swept through me all at once.
My world tilted, shook, came crashing down around me. Nothing made sense anymore. This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be true. But it was. And half broken apologies were all I had left.
But Will hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word. Didn’t he know? Didn’t he see the change in me? Would it be possible to hide for just a little bit longer, hide what I really felt? Every muscle in my body tensed as I held myself still, waiting, trying to keep from exposing any more than I already had.
I couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid of finding the disgust I was so sure would be there, so I kept my gaze level with his collarbone and imagined how the thin skin there would taste. Water pooled in the hallow of his throat and I hungrily followed it as it rose over the bone and raced down his smooth chest, to meld with the soft fabric clinging to his waist. But I didn’t stop there. Fueled by my forbidden knowledge, my heated gaze continued down to the bulge between his legs and I hardened against my will.
He shifted his weight sharply, his free hand coming up to meekly cover what was already covered by the towel, but held such interest for me. I dragged my eyes reluctantly up to his face, meeting his eyes for the first time since realizing my feelings for him, and braced myself to lose my brother forever.
He was still staring down at me but instead of the hate and disgust I feared, his expression was now one of worried curiosity with his head tilted to the side, brows knit in confusion, eyes searching…searching for something. Something…in me, and possibly afraid of what he’d find. What I’d tell him. What I’d reveal. But I didn’t have the answers because he never told me the questions.
I didn’t know what to think, what to feel, how to act. So I just lay there, my mind muddled and fuzzy, not quite sure what was going on or how we got here. I couldn’t quite remember but something was tugging at that back of my mind, something dark, sinister. Something I did wrong.
Then slithering, dark movement above his left eyebrow caught my eye. It was dripping wet like the fine droplets of water that covered Will’s slender body, but it wasn’t clear and clean.
It was deep red, almost black as it slipped over the ridge of his dark brow, before catching on his long lashes and finally dripping high onto his cheek. He blinked, causing more of it to splatter under his eye and then quickly brought his hand up to swipe at his cheek. He pulled his hand back to look at it and didn’t seem surprised, just calmly wiped his hand on the towel, smearing the deep red into the soft white cloth.
And that’s when it all slipped into place. Where I had seen the deep, dark red smear on white before, but then it had been splattered and ugly as it dripped off my brother’s face to pool onto the white tile below.
My brother and that sleazy creep, Liam. They’d fought. And then I remembered why.
I jackknifed up abruptly, the bed protesting, creaking as I suddenly stopped and swayed back and forth from the force. And yet, my arms were dead weight as paralyzing anger tore through me. Will stumbled back, eyes wide, a shocked gasp escaping his lips, his free hand coming up, fingers spread, as if to keep me away. Then he quickly spun around. Before I had a chance to regain control, he was gone.
Now, without Will to distract me, I finally noticed for the first time that I was lying above the covers and still in the clothes I wore to school. Not that I dressed to impress but I liked my Weird Science T-shirt. Now there were strange, moist, dark spots and smudges on it. Confused, I tentatively touched the darkest stains just below my chin, my fingers prodding into the gummy material. I realized, as I held my hand over my chest, both hands felt strange, sticky. I slowly turned them palms up and saw that I had dried blood on my hands. Will’s blood.
Fear trampled over my anger. Will had lost the fight, and even though he seemed fine, I couldn’t help but worry. What had happened while I hid like the frightened child I was? I had to find out. I had to fix this, make it right. It was my fault he had done what he did and he got hurt because of it. It was my responsibility to set things right and make sure Will was okay.
I shuffled numbly through a shower, taking only a moment to watch as the blood from my hands swirled down the drain, hoping it would also take the pain in my heart away. What had I done? What was I thinking? I shouldn’t look at my brother that way. I shouldn’t want him to touch me. My mind was whirling around, trying to keep up but all I could hear was wrong…wrong, so very wrong.
I hadn’t been to church in years, my parents not caring one way or the other what my brother and I felt religiously. But I knew, I’d been taught, I heard it all around me…I’d burn in hell for this. Burn forever. And I’d drag him down to the fiery pits of hell with me.
It wasn’t right, wasn’t normal. This obsessive fixation and attraction; it wasn’t good…for either of us. And I had no clue what William thought. Did he know? Could he see? How could he possibly know what I wanted if I had just figured it out for myself?
I don’t really remember stepping out of the shower. One second I had my head against the cool tile, letting the water run over my skin, the next I stood naked and wet, facing off with a distorted image of myself. There was a long, hand-sized streak across the steamed mirror. One hand held a dry unused towel; the other was dripping wet and tingling with cold.
I looked at my mirror image through the droplets and streaks of water, looking and seeing something that wasn’t me. Not really. My skin was dotted and rippled, lined and scarred by horizontal rain skewing my face, a blurred distortion of light olive skin within rows of nothingness. My neck twisted at odd angels, my entire face bobbing and swirling as I moved. That…that monster…that was who I really was.
That was the face no one ever saw. No one until Will. He knew. Just for that brief moment, I remembered clearly now. When the three of us were in that room, when the light above my brother’s head clicked on. Before I even realized. He knew…before I did. And he saw. He saw the monster I was…this mirror monster. He saw the monster in me! God, what does he think of me?
Whispers in my mind, something telling me to destroy, bash, mangle, make it disappear, just make it go away. Make it not exist. The true image of myself…the real me.
I jerked my arms, pulling up, and my muscles wrenched painfully as they met resistance. I looked down and saw that my hands had turned into claws, gripping the edge of the counter so tight the tendons stood out in stark relief and my hands shook from the force. Even after I released my grip, I had to make an effort to pull my hands away. There were deep, angry, red lines running the width of my palms, my fingers were stiff and moving them burned. Tiny, jagged cuts had reopened from the pressure; little slivers of blood seeped out from the shallow wounds. I turned on the faucet and let the cool water run over my palms, the fire subsiding and the blood washing away.
With my hands shoved under the tap, I stared down my mirror self, daring it to taunt me, to laugh at my feeble attempts to put this obsession with my brother aside, to pretend that it didn’t exist, that this was normal behavior between siblings. I snorted at the stupidity of it all and my mirror self snorted back. Rage swept through me. How dare he snort at me? Then I lowered my head and laughed, I was really going off the deep end if I thought my mirror self had a mind of its own.
Who was I kidding? I’d passed the deep end and dived straight over the frigid waters of Niagara Falls, cramped inside a musty old barrel. I mean, man, it’s bad enough wanting to get all sweaty and groiny with my brother, but what was wrong with me that I wanted to be spanked by him first? Of course, that should be the least of my worries. The way he made me feel, all hard and weak at the same time, it made the spanking I craved look almost innocent. I shouldn’t want to touch him, run my fingers through his hair, taste his lips. I knew it was wrong but I wanted it anyway. I needed it so badly. I needed him.
What was going to happen to me now? Will knew. And I had to face him. This wasn’t someone I could just ignore and hope they didn’t notice me. This was my brother! Not my brother by blood, but in every other way…every way that mattered. He meant more to me than anyone before. He was my best friend, my partner in crime, my soul mate, my world.
If he couldn’t deal with this…with me, what was I going to do? I knew I couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever, as much as I’d like too. For one thing, it wasn’t practical. Sure, I had water and shelter and if I continued to talk to myself, I had someone to babble and rant at until I went insane, but without food…it wasn’t looking good.
And as if had I angered the food gods by even thinking of going without, my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since school and it had to be way past dinnertime. I’d spent the whole afternoon either sleeping, dreaming, or turning myself into a prune trying to avoid the inevitable.
Seeing Will…and finding a way to talk to him since I’d realized my feelings. But I still had no clue what to do or say to him. What could I say!? Somehow I thought ‘Would you like a go?’ wouldn’t go over so well.
How was this going to change our relationship? Were we brothers or was this… thing, between us, something else? Or, and my personal favorite, was it all something my sick and twisted mind thought up to play tricks on me? It was time to face the music, and wasn’t it just peachy that the Jaws theme was running through my head.
I quickly finished drying off and pulled out a pair of my favorite pajamas, an old flannel plaid set from when I was still living with my real dad. It was almost to the point that it no longer fit me. The cuffs only reached half way down my forearms and the hem half way down my calves. If it weren’t for the soft, pliable material I would have ripped it to shreds years ago.
An image of myself with cartoonish green skin and ripped plaid purple pants darted through my mind. And wasn’t that appropriate? Me and my horny hulk. I might not have transformed on the outside…but inside, Will had changed me…mutated and remade me, until I was this out of control lust monster.
And it seemed he alone was the object of my affection. Great. Why couldn’t it have been the strange new girl with the blond hair and tight sweater? Or hey, even Larry would have been a better choice. But, oh, no, that would have been too easy. And Larry wasn’t even gay!
A snagged thread caught my attention as I slowly pulled the ultra soft and ever stretching fabric over my limbs. I didn’t want this to be the night I ripped it apart. I needed the feel of it on my skin. I needed to feel safe and loved. And when my parents bought this for me, as an apology present after destroying yet another Christmas with their arguing, that is exactly how I felt. I was stupid to think it would change anything. But for that moment, I believed. It would be the last time I felt that way until Will entered my life.
I used clean scissors from Will’s desk to carefully snip the thread, then pulling my bathrobe over the pjs, I started down the hall in search of my brother. The smell of delicious but slightly burnt food should have clued me in. He was in the kitchen. I sniffed at the air and hummed in delight. He was making my favorite meal, pizza bagels and chocolate brownies.
Sometimes I loved Will for his amazing talent to read my mind. Sometimes it scared the shit out of me. But now he knew I needed comfort and that’s just what he was serving up. The ultimate in comfort food. How he knew and what that meant, I didn’t let myself dwell on. Besides, I was starving! I walked faster, the rumbling in my gut only intensifying at the smell.
As Will came into sight around the corner, I slowly padded to a stop and just stood there, watching him, really watching him. I was seeing my brother, the real one, not my dream version…seeing him for the first time. The urge to study him, to investigate and dissect his every move, every nuance, everything that I might have missed. To weigh the evidence and explore my options. The craving, needing to see…watching from afar…it became overwhelming.
I retreated back into the hallway and pushed myself against the cool wall. Arms, legs, and fingers spread as if that could get me closer…make me Spider-Man, just a fly on the wall. Using it to hide, to protect me as I peered around the side, knowing I was doing something I shouldn’t, but not being able to stop myself. Not wanting to stop.
I just wanted a moment, just a second where I could live in limbo, where I didn’t have to face him and deal with this. Where I could keep hiding, from him, myself, the truth. I never loved this hallway more.
Keeping my breathing quiet, even if it felt like my heart would jump out of my chest, I spied on him while he ran around the kitchen in drooping black sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt. There were red, white and brown splatters scattered all over the kitchen. Will was furiously trying, and failing, to keep a pot of tomato sauce from boiling over and pulling out half burnt bagels from the toaster. He dropped the hot bagels onto a plate and then flicked his hands in the air, trying to shake off the residual heat from the burnt bread.
Begrudgingly pulling on an oven mitt covered with baking kittens, he bent to take out the finished brownies from the oven. He swept the counter with the back of his bare hand, clearing away egg shells and shoving used bowls to the side as he laid the cooking sheet on the counter. I was surprised to see he’d made the brownies from scratch; he hated baking and usually reserved it for special occasions.
Which was a good thing, considering there was flour all over the floor, even a splatter of it on the wall behind his head. I could see a tuft of white next to his ear. He must have opened it using the potato chip method and it puffed up. I wished I could have seen it. The brown splatters on the wall were probably courtesy of the beater he used being set to high and having the batter whirl around before he remembered to hold the bowl and lower the setting. I couldn’t help but smile, since he did that every time.
No matter how hard he tried, or how many times I tried to teach him, my brother was a horrible cook. As long as he could keep things in bowls or whatever was in a pot from boiling over he was okay, but as soon as things got messy, they took a turn for the worse.
Not like I could blame him. He was trying as hard as he could but he was just a kid, like me. It shouldn’t be his job to take care of me. But he did it with a smile and a nod and never asked for anything in return.
Usually edible, I never complained but lately I had been doing the cooking for myself. The time it took to clean up after him just didn’t make it practical for him to cook for me. But when he did, I didn’t really mind. Even though half the time I suspected he played the bad cook just to watch me clean up the mess he made.
I liked the fact that we took care of each other…looked after one another. That we were there for each other when no one else was. That was important to me, he was important to me. And whatever this was…I could get over it. I just had to.
What mattered was that we needed each other. We were brothers. Brothers! It was our job to be there, no matter what happened, what we said, how many times we annoyed each other. That was the beauty of having a sibling. No one in the world understood you better. And I couldn’t have asked for a better brother than Will. Unfortunately, he didn’t luck out quite so well.
Here was the best support system a guy could ask for and I’m hiding from him like an idiot. The only support I had right now was the cold, unfeeling wall I’d plastered myself to while spying on the one person who loved me more than anyone ever had. That wasn’t fair to Will and certainly wasn’t fair to me. Hiding wasn’t going to solve anything and it just denied us the comfort we so desperately needed. It was time to stop hiding. It was time to bring this out of the dark and into the light….or at least as far as the kitchen.
I pulled the robe tighter around myself and walked briskly into the kitchen as if I hadn’t just spent several minutes looking at him like he was dinner.
He raised his head up, surprised, “Oh, hey. I thought maybe you’d nodded off.”
“Then why are you cooking for me? Leftover pizza bagels not so much food of the Gods. More like food of the trash.”
He shrugged sheepishly, ducked his head, and stared into the pot of unruly tomato sauce as if it held the answers to the secrets of the universe, then whispered, “Knew you’d be hungry.”
And there it was. He knew. Devilish insight masked by seemingly innocent baby blues. But I was no longer fooled. Maybe that pot did hold all the answers. It certainly answered mine. My brother knew how I felt about him so there wasn’t a reason to hide it anymore.
Except…I couldn’t quite bring myself to deal with it so openly. The urge to run and hide was so overwhelming. I didn’t feel ready to jump over that cliff yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be. Maybe we could pretend together forever. Hide this dirty little secret between us and no one else would ever have to know.
It was then that the empty batter bowl caught my attention. All of my anxiety and confusion vanished when confronted by one of my favorite pastimes; licking the batter bowl clean. With only one goal in mind, I rushed around the counter with childish glee and grabbed it up. Quickly indulging my sweet tooth I got through half the bowl in a few large swipes.
Will scrunched his nose in disgust, “I can’t stand how you eat that!”
“Wot?” I mumbled around my finger, then pulled it out and swallowed. “This is the best! Want some?” I dip my finger back in, swiping up a glob onto my fingertip and then shove it towards Will.
I thought I might have actually convinced him when he wet his lips with a roving tongue and leaned forward a little but at the last second, he pulled away and grabbed the bowl from me. “No more for you. You get a belly ache, don’t want you blaming me!”
“Hey!” I tried to grab it from him but he shoved it under the tap and turned on the water, destroying my treat.
I’d already jabbed my chocolate covered fingertip into my mouth. If he didn’t want it, I wasn’t going to let it go to waste. I was ready to go into a pouting fit, finger already strategically placed in the proper pouting position when I saw a large dab of batter on his thumb.
Not realizing how it would seem, I grabbed his hand with my salvia slicked one and quickly sucked his thumb into my mouth, twirling my tongue around it to get all the gooey chocolate sweetness. It wasn’t until I opened my eyes and saw the shocked look on his face, eyes wide, mouth gaping open, that I remembered what happened just a few hours ago and just where this thumb had been.
Immediately my mind recoiled in terror, shrinking away in disgust and fear. Disgust with myself, fear of his reaction, not to mention the ick factor that had me praying to highest deity that he had washed his hands before cooking. But even through all this I kept sucking because it felt so damn good to feel him like this…to have a piece of him inside of me.
Whether it was because I wanted a little dignity back and the way to do that was to show my brother just what I was capable of. Or just simply because I had achieved a rock solid erection in 5 seconds flat, I just kept sucking and hoped he would respond like I’d dreamed he would, so many times before.
Because I knew what I wanted. I wanted him. I wasn’t going to let go. He was all I had…all I longed and hungered for. I could see the lust in his eyes, smoldering deep down, under the shock. I never imagined he’d feel for me as I did for him. But I had to find out, had to pursue this, even if it meant pushing every limit I’d ever known.
I couldn’t imagine my life without him, didn’t want to. No matter what happened, we were brothers first. But this desire for him, it burned, consumed me whole, turned me inside out, then set me loose. I was helpless against its power, this need to unleash the dark side in Will. And from his inaction and glossy gaze, I knew he was caught in my web. I could play him, control him, convince him my less than brotherly desires were harmless. I was already hell bound, might as well make it a fun trip.
Will wasn’t at fault, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet if it wasn’t for his willingness to share everything with me, guide me and help me as I discovered myself, I wouldn’t know what buttons to push, what words to say, how to act to draw him in and sit him at my throne. An innocent prince held captive by the monstrous slave.
I was the son of sin, temptation come to rest in my very soul. And I bowed to the force, my will not strong enough to resist Will’s pure untainted heart. His very nature called to me like a beacon, crystal brilliance battling tirelessly against the darkness within me. I had a choice. I could hide in the dark forever, wallowing in my filth and depravity, wilting away until I was nothing but an empty husk. Or I could hold my hand up, shielding myself from intense light, and walk to the blazing heat summoning me, calling me by name. How could I refuse?
I was so sure that I knew how he felt. Venom and toxic disdain were sure to follow. And yet, Will never ceased to surprise me. Fighting the instinct to flee and hide…it paid off. Searching his eyes, there was no disgust, no hatred, they shone bright, heated lust sparkling in his dark gaze. I’d seen that look in his eyes before, many times, late at night, flickering television the only dim light, sounds of skin slapping and breath panting. And I’d gape in helpless wonder at my brother, mesmerized by those eyes just before they’d slide shut and he’d come all over his fist. And now those eyes were trained on me, burning away all my reservations, all my fears, all my doubts.
Problem was, I still hated myself.
Question was, did Will now feel the same?