I've Got You, Bro

Alex isn’t talking to me today. As he sits in my chair, at my island counter, in my house, eating my oatmeal, he isn’t talking to me. Well, technically it’s our chair, at our island counter, in our house, eating oatmeal I made for him, but still. He scoops a strawberry up with his spoon and pulls it into his mouth while looking at me.

“Are you ever going to talk to me again?” I ask.

He shrugs one shoulder. He’s even completely clothed today so I’m doubly miserable. Out of spite, I’m also clothed, but it feels weird.

“If you talk to me,” I tell him mischievously, “I’ll take my clothes off. Speaking of which, if we do this, we won’t be able to walk around naked anymore.”

His only response is scooping up the last of his oatmeal and shoveling it into his mouth. He gets up, crosses to the sink, and sets the bowl right into the bottom. He knows it annoys me when he doesn’t put things in the dishwasher and he’s been getting better about it, so I know he’s just doing it to spite me.

He kisses me, which I let him because I’m a pushover and he starts heading for the door, about to leave for work.

“Fine!” I say and he stops his in his tracks. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised. “I’ll talk to her!” I say, defeated.

“Thank you,” is all he says before he leaves through the door.

I pull out my phone and pull up my mom’s contact.

It’s been nearly three months since Jack’s attack on me. Alex and I are sleeping in the same room and all of our friends and family know about us. A lot of our family excommunicated us, some because we’re gay and some because we were stepbrothers, but there are a fair few that are supportive.

Jack was found guilty by a grand jury for a hate crime related attempted murder in the second degree and was sentenced to a maximum of fifty years in a maximum security prison. My mother was able to push through a divorce with relative ease after he tried to murder her son.

Even though she’s been supportive of Alex and me, I still can’t forgive her for the two years she spent pretending I didn’t exist. I can’t forget how, after two years, she asked me how Alex was, not me. That she was okay with spending two years without me, but one week without Alex was enough to make her see the errors of her ways. Alex thinks I’m being overly harsh, but he just doesn’t understand. How could he?

And this is exactly how we found ourselves in the fight we’ve been having the last couple of days. My mother’s divorce from Jack, while easy, wasn’t very cheap. Jack had more savings than she did and he fought against it. She had a stash of money hidden from Jack, “just in case” and most of it went to the divorce attorney. In my opinion, if you need “just in case” money because of your partner, they shouldn’t be your partner.

Unfortunately, the house was in his name and she wasn’t able to keep it, nor could she afford to buy it when he put it up for sale. So, she’s been staying with friends the last few months while she’s looking for a stable job, but they have kids and work and lives of their own, so Alex wants her to come stay with us.

Any sane person should see why I have an issue with this, which leads me to believe both Alex and my mother are not entirely sane. Still, I promised Alex I’d hear her out. So, I hit call on her name and she picks up in less than two rings.

“Zack!” she says like she’s surprised I’m calling. Surely, she knew Alex would whittle me down. He always does.

“Hey, Mom,” I say. We both sit in silence for about thirty seconds until she breaks it.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of a call from my favorite son?”

I cringe at this. My mother is one of those people who, when she does wrong, tries to fix it by flinging herself to the entire other side of the spectrum, doing entirely too much. When I last spoke to her about Alex and my relationship, she told me she doesn’t even consider Alex her stepson anymore and that she’s just happy I’m happy. Although she also told Alex that he’d always be like a son to her, whether she and Jack were married or not.

“Your favorite son, whom you pretended didn’t exist for two years while you paraded around your house and church, constantly preaching about how much of a disappointment I am while praying to your god to ask him to make me a normal person?” That’s what I want to say, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “How about lunch today?” And because Alex made me promise, I add, “My treat.”

“Oh my, what a wonderful surprise!” My mother says, although I know we both know Alex is orchestrating this whole thing.

“Great, I was thinking—”

“How about Mexican?” my mother interjects. I was going to suggest this French bistro that recently opened up, but whatever.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. I’ll pick you up at noon. Are you still at Stacey’s?”

“Oh, no, I was only able to stay there for two days, then I spent three days at Marcy’s, and now I’m at Rebecca’s. I can only be here for the weekend, though, then I’m going to get a motel for a few days before Stacey said I could come back.”

I know what she’s trying to do. She wants me to feel sorry for her, but it isn’t going to work. I almost suggest she asks Dad, but I don’t.

When I called him to tell him about Alex and me, he said he didn’t understand why two stepsiblings would want to “do that with each other” but that he supported it either way. When I told him my mother was supportive, he seemed to think it was some scheme she was cooking up and I feel very confident she wouldn’t be welcome at his house, even if she were homeless and dying, and not just because Dad has a new girlfriend.

“Well, I’m glad you have a plan in place,” I say. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“I love y—” my mother says, her voice getting cut off as I end the call.

 I still can’t say it back to her. Alex doesn’t hesitate to now. He forgave her so easily. Part of me wants to, but I just…can’t. Every time I look at her, I just remember how she kicked me out and called me disgusting. The way she said I wasn’t her child anymore.

At half-past noon, my mother and I pull up to El Monterey, the second most expensive Mexican restaurant in St. Louis. If my mother had had her way, she’d have gone to the single most expensive, but the wait was too long. I told her it would be at lunch on a Saturday. I’d have happily gone to Qdoba, but Alex would be angry if I skimped out on my mother. Plus, I know she’s only making me spend so much to spite me because I haven’t forgiven her.

We’re kind of alike in that way. She’s spiting me, and I’m spiting her back by refusing to let her stay with us. I’m hoping to keep the conversation away from that subject, but my mother presses her advantage almost immediately after we each receive our drinks.

“Why are you being so stubborn about me staying with you?” she asks as I’m taking a sip of my raspberry margarita.

“Seriously, Mom? That’s the first thing you say when we get here? Not, ‘How are you doing?’”

“I know you’re doing well,” she said, “because—”

“—Alex told you.”

“Well, Alex wouldn’t have to tell me everything about you if you’d just talk to me.”

I take a sip of my drink and don’t answer her.

“Oh, honestly, Zack. I know I was a…” she pauses, then swallows, “a shitty mother.” This actually gives me pause. I’ve never heard her curse before. “But I want to make up for it. Please, let me try. Please.”

Oh my god. Is she begging?

“Mom, it would just be weird, having you there.”

“Because you and Alex have sex?” she asks, waving her hand dismissively. “When you two lived with us, Jack and I—”

“Nope!” I say, cutting her off. “I definitely don’t want to hear about that.”

“People have sex, Zack, it’s a part of life.” She rolls her eyes, scoops up salsa on a chip and eats it before catching my expression. “What?”

“I just don’t understand you, Mom,” I say. “You spent two years—”

“Are you ever going to forgive me for that?” she interjects. “I’m willing to give you time, but it’s been months, Zack.”

“And it was two years, Mom,” I say, mimicking her tone.

She throws her hands up in surrender and we fall silent. This is how every conversation with my mother has went since Jack’s attack.

“I know what I did was wrong. The way I treated you, the fact that I never reached out, and—” she added forcefully, cutting me off before I could speak, “—asking about Alex instead of you at the store. I didn’t know any better. I have been trying to show you that I’ve changed. I’ve been around you and Alex when you hold hands, kiss, and cuddle and I’ve never said a word against it. I’ve cut off any of my friends who make homophobic remarks and I’ve switched churches. I have asked God to forgive me for the way I’ve treated you and He has, but it’s your forgiveness I really need. And…I need your help.”

We sit in silence for another couple of minutes while I digest this. It’s true that she’s been trying to make things right. Maybe I should be trying too.

“Fine,” I say.

“So you’ll forgive me?” she asks, her face brightening.

“I’ll…work on it,” I tell her, “but you can come stay with us.”

She smiles and reaches out, grabbing my hand. Hers is really warm.

“Thank you, Zack. Would you mind helping me with my stuff after lunch?”

I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth. If I do, I might take back my word.

Several hours later, I find myself unloading a bunch of my mom’s clothes out of my car and help her carry her stuff into my house. She’s been using a storage unit for her stuff since she had to move out of Jack’s house, but we were able to get everything she’d need while she stays with us. When we get everything into her room, she hugs me.

“I love you, Zack,” she says, her arms wrapped around my neck.

“I love you, too,” I force myself to say. I’m going to try to make things better. She breaks away from me and grabs my face in her hands, tears in her eyes.

I wake up before Alex the next morning and before our alarm goes off. I had trouble sleeping, knowing my mother was in the other room, even though I couldn’t hear her. So far, she’s been the perfect guest. She’s kept to her room, not made a lot of noise, cleaned up after herself, and even made us dinner.

I roll over and look at Alex. He’s lying on his side, facing me, his mouth is open slightly and small dribble of drool slides down his cheek. I reach out and, using a corner of the pillowcase, wipe his face clean. He jerks awake, startled, but relaxes when he sees it’s me.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, but in a somehow sexy way.

“You were drooling.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, using that same voice. He wraps his arms around me and closes the distance between us, his lips meeting mine. His morning breath is gross, but mine can’t be much better.

“You were pretty startled,” I say when we break apart.

“I had a dream I was in the Hunger Games.”

“The movie or the competition?”

“The competition. Cato and I were sword fighting.”

“With actual swords or with—”

But my words are cut off when he kisses me again and his body presses into mine. I feel his morning wood press into me. He’s been so mad at me, he hasn’t touched me this way in days and my cock inflates at the speed of sound. Alex pushes the covers off us, exposing our naked bodies. Well, he’s naked. I’m wearing underwear. Sleeping naked in the same house as my mother seemed odd somehow.

Alex kisses his way down my body and without hesitation, sucks my cock into his throat. I gasp and grip his hair as he bobs up and down on my meat.

“I’ve missed this cock so much,” he says when he pulls off it. He kisses me again and I can taste my precum on his tongue. He lays beside me and sucks my cock back into his mouth, so I lean over and we sixty-nine, sucking each other in the small amount of early morning light creeping in through the slightly parted curtain.

Alex pulls out and lays flat. By pulling on my waist, he silently tells me to climb on top of him, so I do. He starts eating my ass as I suck his cock, pulling it in and out of my throat. As his tongue explores my hole, I gasp, the air escaping through my nose as my mouth is currently busy.

I glance at the clock. It’s ten minutes to seven o’clock, which means this will need to be a quicky. I reach into the bedside table and slather the lube inside on Alex’s cock. He directs me to bend over, my face on the bed, my ass in the air. He slides in and fireworks explode inside me as his meat settles in my asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp as he starts to fuck me, quick but silent. I stroke my dick with my still lubed hand as he works my hole.

He grabs a fistful of my hair and pushes my head into the mattress for a few thrusts before pulling me back so my back lays against his chest. He takes over jerking me off, the lube on it helping a great deal. His other hand finds my throat. He doesn’t grip it. After what Jack did to me, there’s no way I would want it.

His fingers brush lightly over the skin, conveying safety and love as he makes love to me. I turn my head to him and he kisses me deeply, our tongues dancing as he thrusts in and out of me. I take over now, pulling him out of me and pushing him down on the bed.

I take up the position I know so well, with my hands behind me, feet firmly planted on the bed. Alex lines his cock up as I slide down onto it, taking it into me. I thrust up into the air and back down, Alex’s cock sliding through my hole in blissful ecstasy, his lubed hand on my cock. I stare into his eyes as I ride him, trying not to let our skin slap together. We’re both panting and moaning and I force a gasp from him when I clench my asshole on my next time up his meat. I can feel his head, sliding over my prostate and it’s all I can do not to moan his name out loud.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “ride that fucking dick, little brother.” He hasn’t called me that in a long time and something about it is so hot. I keep bucking on top of him, even as my orgasm mounts. As I cum, I clench even harder and thrust faster and faster. Alex doesn’t let go of my cock, even through the sensitive aftermath of my orgasm, but I’ve learned to love the sensation.

“I’m cumming,” he says. A moment later, I feel his warm seed fill my hole and once I’m sure his cock has been milked completely, climb off him and lay beside him on the bed.

Several things happen simultaneously at that moment. The alarm goes off, a knock sounds at the door, and I scramble to cover up as though I’ve just been caught doing something wrong.

“She’s not going to open the door,” Alex says. Not that she could. I made sure to lock it last night.

“Boys, are  you up?”

“Yeah, we just woke up,” Alex says, silencing the alarm.

“I’m going to make us some breakfast and then I thought we could watch some TV together. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great, Mom!” Alex says.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too,” Alex and I chant in unison.

Everything about this feels weird. Alex calling her Mom, her waking us up for breakfast, me saying I love you to her. It’s like I’m sixteen again and she’s woken us up after a morning jerk session.

“You’ll get used to it,” Alex says, correctly interpreting the look on my face.

Breakfast goes normally enough. My mother makes scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. We sip coffee while watching some Spanish hospital drama my mother is apparently addicted to. She makes comments about who all the characters are while we watch.

Within the next year, my relationship with my mother got better and better. I’m able to eventually truly forgive her for the way she treated me and Alex. She was able to find a good job working in an office and seems to really like it there. She had to cut a lot of people out of her life because they didn’t understand two men being together. She moved out two months ago, so Alex and I have our place to ourselves again.

Alex has visited his father in prison a couple of times, although he still resents him. I understand him wanting to see Jack, though. He’s Alex’s only living parent, if you don’t count my mother. Jack hasn’t mentioned “the whole gay thing” to use his words since Alex’s first visit, but Alex says he isn’t overly homophobic, so that’s good.

Alex and I are still going strong. He actually proposed to me a week after my twenty-first birthday, and we’re getting married in the fall. My mother is insistent on helping plan the wedding to an almost annoying degree. Julian declared himself my best man before I could ask him, although I’m fine with it. My father is coming and promises to try to be nice to my mother. I know it’s an empty promise, but I’m glad he’ll be there.

When I look back at where Alex and I began, I’m surprised we’ve ended up here. But I’m also happier than I could have ever been. My relationship with my mother is better, I’m doing well at my job, Alex is close to graduating college, and I get to spend the rest of my life with the man I love more than anything in the world.

The end

Author’s Note: I had originally planned on 10 chapters, but with the readership dying off, I thought I’d wrap things up here. Thank you to everyone who read this story and liked it and to everyone who commented and voted. This has so far been my most successful story on GayDemon. Don’t worry, I’m not stopping! If you enjoy my writing, keep an eye out for my next story: A Prince’s Pride.

-Ottie