“Ash. Your brother’s coming home today!”
My mom was beyond excited, cleaning the entire house with special attention on Calum’s old room. Thankfully we didn’t have to share a bedroom anymore.
Calum is five years older than me. I’m twenty, he’s twenty-five. I work with my mom in her cleaning company and we actually have a pretty good life. Good enough that my brother, on a trip to New Orleans, drank way too much and beat a guy half to death with his friends. The guy was in a coma for a few days. Luckily he didn’t die. The result for my brother was five years in prison with the possibility of parole and an ankle monitor after one year. That year had passed. Today was the day he came home.
What can I say about my brother Calum? He’d always been spoiled. A preppy boy through and through. Ralph Lauren polos, Fred Perry, Tommy Hilfiger. Whatever money my mom and I made for the company, Calum was an expert at spending. He was a bad boy with the face of a well-behaved angel.
It was close to four in the afternoon when the prison transport car pulled up with my brother and the officers who were going to install the electronic monitor.
I hadn’t seen him in over six months. He’d been locked up far away and we only managed to visit once. Everything else had been phone calls.
And there he was, stepping out of the car in handcuffs. Sweatpants and a hoodie, hair longer than usual, unshaven, and his body clearly more muscular and solid. Apparently there wasn’t much else to do in prison besides working out… since reading had never been my brother’s thing.
“My son!” My mom Linda ran to hug him in our front yard.
“Mom… I missed you.” The officers removed the cuffs. They were two tall, built guys and I immediately started imagining what I would do with them in my room if I ever got the chance. I walked over and hugged my brother.
“Kid… I missed you. Missed your movies and shows.” Calum hugged me tight. In twenty years of living together, my brother had never hugged me like that—warm, almost desperate.
“Inside. You’ll have plenty of time to watch movies, Calum,” one of the officers said, escorting him into the house.
The next hour was spent installing the ankle monitor and explaining every rule. The next review hearing would be in six months. Six months where he couldn’t go farther than our backyard.
The officers left and my mom went to prepare clean clothes and a shower for him. Once he was dressed in a proper polo and nice pants, Calum looked more like himself again.
“I need to get a barber to come take care of that hair, son,” my mom said at dinner. She had made his favorite — meat pie — and he ate three plates like he was starving, plus two bowls of chocolate mousse. She only let him have one glass of red wine.
“It’s so good to be back, family. I love you both. I’m sorry for the disappointment.”
My mom was crying. It hurt me too, seeing the always strong, cocky Calum look so vulnerable. I stood up and hugged him from behind while he sat at the table.
“You just have to behave now, big brother.”
“I promise. I’ll never put you through anything like that again.”
I rested my hands on his shoulders and felt how much harder and more defined the muscle was. The sleeves of his polo were tighter around his biceps too.
Mom went to bed a little after ten, after taking a Rivotril to calm the anxiety of such an intense day. Calum and I stayed in the living room watching the latest Marvel movie he’d missed in theaters.
“So… was it really bad?” I asked.
“Hell, little brother. I never want to go back. I think I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”
We were sitting close, not quite touching.
“The guys in there are completely insane. They start shit over anything you do or don’t do.”
I couldn’t resist. I reached out and squeezed his bicep.
“You came back all swollen.”
He laughed and flexed for me, the muscle almost stretching the short sleeve of the polo.
“You like it, little brother? It was the only entertainment I had in there.”
“I’m not gonna say I don’t,” I said, laughing.
“And you? Just work? No boyfriend right now?”
I blushed. I still wasn’t used to talking about my gay life with my older brother, even though he’d met a couple of my flings before.
“No. Just working with Mom. Haven’t even gone out much. Your lawyer was expensive,” I said, trying to joke.
“Sorry…” He looked down.
“Hey, I was kidding. The important thing is you’re home with us. And what are we gonna do about this hair?”
“I want a buzz cut. You gonna do it for me?”
“Are you serious?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I grabbed the clippers from the bathroom cabinet and a towel. Calum sat on a chair in the middle of the living room. I draped the towel around his shoulders and stood behind him.
“You sure?” I asked one more time, the clippers already buzzing in my hand.
“Do it. I want a fresh start.”
I started at the top and worked my way down. Thick dark hair fell onto the towel and the floor in soft piles. The more I cut, the more his face changed — sharper, harder, more like the version of him that had survived a year inside. When I finished the sides and back, I stepped around to check the front.
Calum reached up, ran a hand over the short buzz, and then, without warning, grabbed the bottom of his polo and pulled it off in one motion.
I froze.
His body looked completely different. The soft preppy boy who used to live on takeout and designer clothes was gone. In his place was a solid, athletic frame — thick chest covered in a light dusting of dark hair, defined abs, heavy shoulders, and arms that looked carved from the endless push-ups and pull-ups of prison. A thin trail of hair ran down from his navel and disappeared under the waistband of his pants.
“Jesus,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Calum looked down at his own torso like he was still getting used to it too, then glanced up at me with a small, tired smirk.
“Crazy what a year can do.”
I set the clippers down. My hands were still dusty with tiny bits of hair. Without really thinking, I stepped closer and placed both palms on his chest. The muscle was firm and warm under my hands. I dragged them slowly outward over his pecs, then around to his shoulders and down his back. His skin was hot. I could feel the faint ridges of new muscle every place I touched.
Neither of us spoke.
I kept massaging him in slow circles, chest, shoulders, the thick muscles along his spine, while he sat there breathing quietly, eyes half-closed. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste. My cock was already half-hard in my shorts and I was pretty sure he could tell.
After a few minutes Calum reached up and wrapped his fingers loosely around my wrist, stopping me.
“That’s enough, I don’t think I can’t take anymore without…” he said, voice lower than before. “Forget, we should sleep.”
I nodded.
We went to our separate rooms. I lay in the dark staring at the ceiling, still feeling the shape of his chest under my hands, until exhaustion finally pulled me under.
I woke up to screaming.
For a second I didn’t know where I was. Then I heard it again: raw, broken shouts coming from the room next to mine.
“I don’t want to go back, I can’t go back! STOP.”
Mom’s door stayed closed. The Rivotril had knocked her out cold.
I threw the covers off and ran into Calum’s room.
He was tangled in the sheets, soaked in sweat, eyes squeezed shut, still trapped in whatever nightmare had him. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him.
“Calum. Hey. Wake up. It’s me.”
His eyes flew open. For a second he looked terrified, like he didn’t recognize me. Then the present came back and his face crumpled. He sat up and pulled me into a hard, desperate hug, face buried in my neck. I felt wetness against my skin. My big brother was crying.
“Stay,” he rasped. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. I’m fucking scared, Ash.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
I climbed into the bed with him. Calum immediately pulled me against his chest and curled around me from behind, one heavy arm locked over my waist, his breath still shaky against the back of my neck. We fit together like we’d done this a hundred times.
Less than a minute later I felt it.
He was hard. Thick and hot, pressing against the curve of my ass through two layers of thin fabric. His breathing changed. The arm around my waist tightened.
“You have no idea,” he murmured against my hair, voice rough and ashamed and hungry all at once. “You have no idea how fucking sex-starved I am.”
I should have pulled away. Instead I pushed my hips back carefully, rubbing against the solid length of him. Calum let out a low, broken sound and started moving with me, grinding slow and heavy against my ass.
I reached down, shoved my boxers lower, and then did the same to his. The second his bare cock settled between my cheeks we both went still for a second. Then he started thrusting for real, short, desperate ruts, the thick shaft sliding up and down the cleft of my ass, the head catching against my hole on every pass without ever pushing in.
“Fuck, Ash! This feels so good.” His voice was wrecked. One hand gripped my hip hard while he used the friction of my body to get himself off. The wet sound of his cock sliding between my cheeks filled the quiet room. I kept pushing back to meet every movement, letting him use me exactly how he needed.
He didn’t last long.
Calum buried his face in my hair, groaned like something was being torn out of him, and came hard. Thick ropes of cum painted my lower back and the top of my ass in hot pulses while he kept grinding through it, smearing his own release between us.
When it was over he stayed wrapped around me, chest heaving, cock slowly softening against my skin. After a while he pressed a soft kiss to the back of my head.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Then his breathing evened out and he fell asleep still holding me, one arm locked around my waist like he was afraid I might disappear.
I stayed awake a little longer, feeling the sticky cooling mess on my skin and the solid weight of my brother’s body against mine, before sleep finally took me too.
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