Adrian was pissed at me. After coming in my mouth like a hose, he’d pushed me away and hadn’t talked ever since.
At least he no longer tormented me with his naked ass. He’d covered himself with a pair of worn-out shorts and was now fishing. Yeah, he was standing on the shore, casting the line from time to time.
I stared at him from behind. He had nice shoulders, though he was a bit on the skinny side. If only I could walk over to him and run my fingers over the muscles rippling underneath his skin each time he moved with the grace of someone who shouldn’t be casting fishing lines in the middle of nowhere, ostracized from whatever heaven he’d emerged from.
He called himself a demon right out of hell. But he wasn’t fooling me. I knew what he was. Despite his bravado, he wasn’t brave. He challenged and tested people in hope of getting something he didn’t even know what was.
“Adrian,” I called out.
His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn. Clearly, he was ignoring me. I got up and walked over, dusting myself off.
“Are you mad at me?” I mocked him, knowing instinctively that would only annoy him more.
I was so close now I only had to lean over and kiss his shoulder or the back of his neck, where his short hair stubble ended.
“You’re a mean asshole.”
I laughed. He was right. But that didn’t make him right if that makes any sense.
“So? You wanted to know whether I was one or not. Why else would you challenge me like that?”
It felt strangely good to talk to the back of his head like that. As anxious as I was to see his face and read whatever was written there, I enjoyed the torment of not knowing a lot more.
“You really are a mean asshole,” he said, putting even more heart into it.
“You’re repeating yourself. Wait,” I said, letting one second pass to make him aware of who was in charge of the game, “did you think I’d fall for your charms or something?” My harsh laughter made me wince inside.
He didn’t say anything, so I wrapped my arms around him from behind and pinched his nipples hard. I can’t say I was surprised when he pushed me away, his anger simmering right under the surface.
I knew what he needed, because I thought I’d caught a glimpse of him in those moments, something so similar with the same thing I nurtured inside my dark soul that I yearned to see it.
So I went at him again, annoying him until he dropped the fishing rod and turned to take a swing at me.
I can lie and say that I wasn’t fast enough. But it wouldn’t be true. After living for so many years under the threat of violence with a man who simply hated his son for reasons only he knew, I’d developed a keen sense for dodging most blows. And a thick skin.
I didn’t dodge Adrian’s punch. I let him sink his fist in my face and staggered under the force of its impact.
“Ouch,” I said for show even as blood leaked through my fingers as I brought my hand up to cover my nose. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah,” he said and returned to his so-called fishing.
I walked over to the water and cleaned my face. The bleeding stopped after a while, as I well knew. It was a wonder that my nose wasn’t terribly crooked after the beatings I’d gotten in my life, but as I said, I’d learned to dodge.
His warm hand on my upper back was just as sweet as victory usually is.
“Please,” I warned him, “don’t say you didn’t mean to hit me. It’d hurt my feelings.”
His hand moved away.
“You’re one fucked up motherfucker, Jo,” he said, and I beamed internally at his praise. He did sound like he admired the heck out of me in that moment.
“Thanks. Just for the record, that should tell you that you should stay away from me.” It was a fair warning. As much as I wanted to make him mine – as foggy as that idea was during those first days of ours – I didn’t want him on my conscience, so to speak. The ravenous beast inside me didn’t need another taste to know what it wanted, forever.
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology shit?” he asked. “Do you hope I’ll do the opposite?”
Maybe. Yeah. Sure.
“Nope. It’s dangerous as it is, this game you’re playing. I’m used to my dad’s beatings, but you’re fresh off the bus. He’s going to hurt that pretty face of yours, and I don’t want any part in it.”
“So, you care about me?”
I snorted. “Don’t be an idiot. I thought I’d want you and your mom out of our lives yesterday. But I like this version of my dad, the one that gets properly screwed on the regular. I don’t want to lose my newfound peace.”
“Don’t talk about my mom like that,” he warned me. I could tell he loved her. I hated my dad, although I wasn’t losing any sleep over it. It was just something I needed to get rid of. And it would all be fucking grand once I left for college.
“What?” I mocked him some more. “You don’t imagine they read the bible together every night.”
“Screw you, Jo.” He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at my head.
Fuck, I so needed a bath. Well, our fishing trip was done, so we could just head back home. It was only after a while that I realized he left ahead of me.
***
I hadn’t hurried after him, wanting to show him that I wasn’t chasing him. It was a form of self-preservation, to be totally honest. Even at the time, I got this vague awareness that it wouldn’t be good for me to be so close to him. I had plans, and I didn’t need him all up in my hair. Actually, to be honest, I hoped he’d give up on the idea of bunking with me in our first year of college.
If he’d done that, things would be very different now.
I got home late. Because I knew we’d still be home alone until tomorrow night, I didn’t want to invite in another confrontation. My dad would ask about it, and I didn’t want to be grilled for information under the threat of torture.
My nose throbbed like a motherfucker, and I knew that wouldn’t go unnoticed, but I had a lie already prepared.
I noticed the dead fish in the kitchen sink and stared at them for a while. Well, since we were back, I could just slip back into my usual good son persona. With a sigh, I walked over there and let cold water pour over Adrian’s fishing harvest.
I’d have to wash before preparing dinner. While I wasn’t any good at fishing, I was pretty good at cooking. My father considered cooking to be beneath him, so he had forced me to teach myself this too feminine skill if we were to eat anything besides meals that came in microwave-proof packaging.
Yeah, my father the man, I thought as I turned off the water and walked up the stairs. For a few moments, on the landing, I waited for signs of Adrian. My educated guess was that he’d left to hang out with his pals.
That suited me just fine. I walked into the bathroom and showered thoroughly. And thought of him while rubbing one out, because damn, he was good for that, with his tight hot ass and challenging eyes. I oscillated between wanting him to destroy me and me being the one doing that to him.
I came so hard I almost banged my head against the wall. This thing couldn’t continue like this. Hopefully, he’d gotten enough of my mean bitter self to know to stay away. Then, we’d both be just fine. If only.
***
I wouldn’t see him again until dinner next evening. My father was overjoyed at the sight of the leftovers from the fish I cooked. He kept pestering Adrian with questions about how our fishing trip went since I made sure to inform him that my stepbrother was a natural when it came to baiting fish and making it bite.
For that reason – and others – he kept shooting daggers at me across the table. Unlike before, he chose not to stay by my side, but I think he’d done that only so he could judge me with his beautiful eyes.
I stared back, showing absolutely no remorse. His mother, too, was over the moon that Adrian was good at fishing. All in all, it was an incredibly boring dinner, but after suffering through many tense dinners, boring was good for a change.
Until he declared that he’d had enough and asked to be excused. As our parents answered his question, he reached under the table and hit me in the shin.
It took me all my lifelong experience in keeping a deadpan face not to show how much it hurt. Clearly, he wasn’t satisfied that I showed no reaction and stormed out of the dining room with a fire lit under his ass.
“Jo,” Madeline said, completely oblivious with how much I hated to have my name shortened, “are you and Adrian getting along better?”
She looked hopeful, and she was a nice lady, so I nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Shaw. We are getting along just fine.”
That was enough to put her mind at ease, it seemed. She reached out and patted my hand. “I’m glad. Please call me Madeline.”
“Yes, of course,” I said politely. “That reminds me. I wanted to tell Adrian about this book I got. It’s about art, and he seems to know a great deal about it.”
There was no book, and I couldn’t give two shits about art. But I wanted to guilt him into sucking my dick for hitting me under the table. Since we were both guys, our parents wouldn’t suspect a thing about us hanging out in each other’s rooms late in the evening.
“Free to go, Jordan,” my dad barked at me. I could bet he wanted more time alone with Madeline, and I was in the way.
Madeline did throw me an apologetic look and one, sharper, to him. It looked like she was getting into her head that she needed to change my father’s horrible personality.
Good luck with that, lady.
***
I walked into his room without knocking. He was at his desk, scribbling furiously and turned only when I was right behind him, peeking over his shoulder.
“Is that me?” I asked.
He covered the paper with both hands and then crumpled it with anger written all over his face. It was such a strange experience to see myself through his eyes. In the few moments I got to look at his sketch, I caught a glimpse of his skill and how he saw me.
The best way to describe that would be overly dramatic. My body was all sharp lines, and my eyes looked mean. He was drawing me from memory, as I had lain on the lakeshore, topless, leaning back on my elbows.
Although there was something else in there. I looked sexy. Definitely not like I saw myself. It was a weird thought, but I could see myself jerking off to that sketch of myself. I had no idea what it was – I still don’t get everything when I look at his works – and I’d only snatched a glimpse, as I said. But it was somehow in the eyes, or in the position of my body.
It made me think of sex. Just like he made me think of sex and forget about everything else.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped at me. “And can’t you fucking knock?”
I crossed my arms and stared down at him. “I had to lie about what happened to my nose.”
Dad had only asked briefly just as we started dinner, and Madeline showed her motherly concern, although I had no idea what I was supposed to do with it.
“So? It looks like you’re great at lying.” He challenged me without getting up. The same flicker of guilt lit up his eyes for a moment, just as it’d happened when I got questioned by our folks at dinner.
He wasn’t the only one who liked playing with fire. I felt drawn to the flames of hell just as much.
“Where have you been? You didn’t come home until hours ago.”
“What do you care?” He was beginning to smile. That only confirmed my suspicions.
“I don’t. But I have to answer for you in front of your mom and my dad, and for whatever the fuck you’re doing, I don’t have a lie ready. Enlighten me and I’ll help you.”
He snorted. “You mean, help yourself. You’re not fooling anyone, Jo. All those Christian texts and advice are wasted on you. You’re one mean motherfucker.”
There was no point to deny it. “Kudos. You got it.”
“I fucked Linda, then Taylor, then that chick with the strange ponytail,” he said all of a sudden.
I chortled. “For fuck’s sake, you need to have your dick checked. And your head.”
If he thought he’d make me jealous talking like that, he was right. But I wasn’t going to let him see it. Nah, I was in charge of this game, and I also thought he was lying through his nose.
“You wish.”
I leaned over, pressing him against the table and grabbed the crumpled paper. He noticed what I was doing too late.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
“Don’t you need permission to sketch people or something?” I said, holding the crumpled paper up. He stood and tried to get it from me.
Adrian would be in for a rude awakening if he believed I’d continue to play the role of the helpless country boy.
“Give it back,” he ordered, his eyes ablaze.
“Take it if you can.”
Whatever guilt he must’ve felt over punching me in the nose was gone. And I sensed that he was beyond mad now. Clearly, the last thing he wanted was to be discovered by the stepbrother he hated that he was drawing him.
I thought it was cute. Though cute wasn’t the word to describe how Adrian looked that very moment.
“Why were you drawing me? Do you like me or something?”
“I fucking hate you, not like you.”
“Try being honest, Adrian.”
He punched me in the gut hard enough to knock the air out of me. I dropped the crumpled sketch and doubled over in pain.
Adrian swiped it fast and tore it into small pieces. “I thought you needed saving from being so fucking bored all the time.” He now towered over me and my eyes were level with his crotch.
“Who said I was bored?” I wheezed and struggled to get to my feet.
He shrugged and turned away from me. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on your way out.”
So that was how it was going to be. Fine by me. I’d done my part to push him away, now he only needed to stay away.
tbc
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