His words kept ringing inside my head. He held my stare, pinning me down with his hands, wrapped tightly against my wrists. I could feel his strength; he was definitely stronger than me and trying to fight him head-on would lead to no positive outcome for me. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t against experiencing physical pain. If anything, I found it liberating. Those people who go hard into self-flagellation, they know what they’re doing, slamming ropes full of sharp nails against their backs until they draw blood in the name of a god from whom they ask deliverance. If you’re asking me, they’re all a bunch of hypocrites; they do it because it feels good and they get off – spiritually, of course – on it.
It worked for me, too, just the same way. Therefore, I was embracing the pain Adrian caused me by gripping my hands so tightly.
“Surprised?” he taunted me.
Of his drunken confession? That he was… what? Not liking himself much on a regular basis? Oh, these young men and women getting so excited over their own imagined suffering. Like the lot of them, Adrian was delusional.
“That you’re a liar, besides being a bully? Can’t say that I am,” I replied.
His grin widened. But his eyes weren’t smiling; no, they were dead. For a moment, I got scared. That was the kind of look you see in people’s eyes when they got nothing felt to lose.
But it passed. He closed his eyes and kissed me again. I stubbornly kept my mouth shut, pursing my lips to keep him from getting any satisfaction from forcing himself on me. He resorted to biting and at my first gasp, he took advantage to push his tongue in.
I could’ve bitten his tongue, teach him a lesson, but I wasn’t crazy about tasting his blood; not because of some reasonable human disgust toward such a thing, but because his tongue taste too good as it was.
And I wasn’t a good choir boy. No, I wanted to sin already so at least my penitence would start making sense. Although I doubted my sudden desire to taste my brother’s tongue had anything to do with regret and asking for forgiveness later. No, all of that had more to do with me feeling vindicated for a chance, and the satisfaction of knowing that Adrian, despite his bad boy looks and being popular with people who had never seen him in their lives before, had this secret, this want to kiss his stepbrother when he shouldn’t.
I like myself a sinner, apparently.
He moaned, yeah, he moaned, when I kissed him back. To that point in my life, I’d had little experience with kissing, but I also nurtured the illusion and conviction that it couldn’t be too hard to stick your tongue in someone’s mouth and violate them in that base manner in order to get violated back.
Adrian pulled back, laughing. He licked and smacked his lips while keeping his eyes on my face. “Damn, you’re really a virgin. Who the fuck taught you to use your tongue like it’s fucking deadwood?”
I had no idea what he meant by that, but I was aware that he was insulting me. “Get off me,” I hissed.
As if my struggling mattered. He held me down, pushing his crotch more into mine, reminding me that I liked being held down and insulted because I couldn’t even kiss right.
“Out with your tongue,” he ordered once his laughter subsided and all the fight went out of me.
“Fuck off.”
“Jo, you suck at kissing. I just can’t have a brother who doesn’t even know how to do that at freaking nineteen.”
“What? Am I cramping your style?”
Adrian seemed to consider his next answer. “No, but I really want to kiss you and see why the fuck I feel attracted to you when I fucking hate you. And I can’t do that if you suck at it.”
“For the record, that made no sense,” I shot back.
Hovering above me, he brought our faces close. My vision blurred as I couldn’t maintain proper focus when he was this close to me. It was just another challenge of sorts, wasn’t it? Adrian excelled at being provocative, I realized just then.
“It is a crime,” he whispered, blowing warm air over my lips, “to be this pretty, to have this kind of mouth, made for taking cock deep, and have no idea how to use it. I have to teach you. I get it that all that holy water or wine or whatever you drank over the years made you stiff as a board, but I think there’s fire in you, brother. Yeah, I feel it. Your cock is hard, and you want to touch it, but hell if I’m going to let you unless you give me what I want.”
“You’re nuts,” I grunted, closing my eyes. They watered from trying to focus on Adrian’s face. His methods of torture had a certain refinement; I had to give it to him, at least that.
“Speaking of nuts, it’ll be glorious, Jo, once I have you on your knees, with your mouth full of my balls.”
“You can’t be this stupid. Get your ball sac that close to my teeth, it’s not going to be pretty,” I threatened.
His response was to bite my lips, a short and playful move meant to upend me and turn me inside out.
It was working. But just as I was about to return the favor, he pulled back again.
“Jo,” he drawled, “you must learn how to do it properly.”
“Then just show me already.” Free as I was to lie to myself that I was doing that only to get rid of him, words like that came easily.
“Open your mouth. Don’t let it go slack, it’s weird,” he started.
His insults were getting to me. Not that I had some weird preconceptions about being some sort of stud, not after spending my formative years until that point refusing sex altogether. But I wanted to best him, one way or another, and doing that, besting him at his own game would’ve provided me with the sweetest victory.
“Release my hands, and I’ll show you then,” I said.
“No.” His answer came out petulant and playful.
Once again, his tongue was in my mouth, but this time around, I was determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. My teeth sank into his bottom lip, so fat and tasty. But I didn’t do it to bite and hurt him; it was a move meant to surprise him, and it worked. He opened his mouth and I went hungrily for it.
I knew I had to seem overly eager, but I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t deadwood. Or that my tongue wasn’t. Whatever.
His surprise wore off in less than two seconds. He pushed back and asserted dominance with his tongue, battling mine. The sounds we were making got to my head like sweet wine. They were sinful, filled with guilt, but so delicious that I could almost taste them.
If things only stopped there. There have to be levels to sinning, and we were only climbing our first step of the ladder. Despite what people suffering from addictions say, things such as ‘only a taste’, ‘only a drag’, ‘only a glass’, ‘only a line’ aren’t real. You go in, and you go in hard – no middle ground. After that, it’s all downhill.
He pushed hard against my crotch with his. Given my lack of experience in getting off, I worried that I might end up coming in my underwear like a teenager, but it didn’t happen. Adrian kept me tottering on the edge of unknown, feeding my excitement.
“Good,” he said as he abruptly stopped our kissing. “I knew you had it in you.”
What next? Was he going to leave now that he’d made his point, that I was willing to give it all away, salvation be damned, only for the sake of his lips and the way he kissed?
“I’m drunk,” he added, just as brusquely. “But I can still come, and you should, too.”
Was that his way of coming up with excuses? I gritted my teeth, ready to reiterate my threats to throw him out.
Once more, he surprised me. Letting go of my hands, he held me in his sight. His moves were strangely quiet and studied, a contrast to our furious kissing from before. The oddest of looks flickered in his eyes.
He pulled away but only to drop to my side and place his hand on my crotch. “Jo, how many chicks ever gave you a quick one?”
“None of your business.”
“That few?” He laughed, so close to my face that the tip of his nose tickled my cheek.
Yeah, he was drunk alright, no matter how much that sounded like an excuse.
“Then,” he giggled in my ear, “I’ll give you a handjob you won’t forget.”
If he nurtured the slightest hope that I’d forget anything concerning him from that moment on to eternity, he was mistaken.
His fingers were unsteady as he worked my fly, and I was about to chalk it all up to him being drunk until I understood. Because of our position, he wasn’t using his dominant hand. He was left-handed; his left hand drew interesting sketches and was part of his artistically-inclined self, while his right hand got busy jerking off his newly acquired brother. What could that all say about him? Not much, or maybe everything.
I sucked in a breath as he reached inside my jeans and touched my aching cock.
“Uncut, nice,” I heard him commenting as his hand moved unsteadly.
“What about you?” My toes were curling against the carpet as he worked me, but otherwise, I remained stiff all over.
“I’m uncut, too,” Adrian replied.
“No, I meant it as… don’t you want me to…” I swallowed my own words. Wasn’t this supposed to be reciprocal?
“You’re pretty strong, Jo. What if you strangle my dick?” He kept talking in my ear, tickling it.
“That’s a weird worry to have,” I said. “I know how to masturbate. Unless you’re afraid, I can… you know.”
He burst into laughter, making me itch all over. His fingers were long, nimble, and they wrapped around my cock with graceful elegance. I could tell he was an artist from that alone.
“But then, Jo,” he continued to murmur in my ear, “you wouldn’t be able to focus on what you’re feeling. Do you have any idea how hot your skin is right now? I bet you’re so hot inside.” His voice warmed as he spoke, growing a little antsy, but maybe I was just reading him wrong. “Oh, fuck, to be inside you, that must feel like I’m fucking a hot, tight furnace.”
His hand was moving faster now, falling into its own rhythm, one with which my dick agreed. My toe-curling intensified, as his words fell to whispers. He was talking a lot of nonsense, about how he’d fuck me into next week, how he’d love to put his cock inside my ass and make me moan like a bitch in heat.
I wasn’t by far as shocked as he wanted me to be; though, at the time being, I had no idea what he wanted. It was nice to fantasize that he wanted me, but I was yet to get to know him, how dark his soul was, and how much he enjoyed to play people like a fiddle.
He did play on my cock a pretty nice tune. And guess what? It did feel better to have someone else do it. Masturbation was a sin in my eyes, a fact of biblical proportions that never stopped me from doing it to myself. Not on the regular. No, I was still particular about not being caught, and I didn’t want to lose my focus.
Which was? You may ask.
To escape this shithole of a town and leave it all behind. Although I hadn’t planned to take my stepbrother along with me for the ride.
The stepbrother who was now rubbing my cock like his life depended on it while sighing in my ear as if he was the one getting jerked off.
I closed my eyes to soak myself into the moment. If he played me wrong and went with this to my father—
He wouldn’t do that. He’d have to admit that he got his hands on me, and I didn’t see him doing that.
How wrong I was. But let’s not get ahead.
I came in Adrian’s hand, my entire body tensing for long moments when I couldn’t even breathe.
I only opened my eyes when I heard weird sucking sounds.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as bewildered, I watched Adrian licking his fingers. Fingers coated with my cum.
“Jo,” he drawled before giving me a short, dizzying kiss, “you taste amazing.”
tbc
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