Painting Donovan

My brother Donovan was a cunt slut.

His schemes were simple but effective. Having his latest fling "meet the family" as a demonstration of commitment was one of his favourite ways of getting into their pants. Since I was the only reliable family member he had living in Vancouver, I was the one he always asked out. I'd never really found it fun to play the good little brother as Donovan made baby talk with a dumb bombshell. Still, I went along with it because I figured it was the brotherly thing to do.

This was what I expected when I got a call from Donovan one late afternoon. The interruption was a welcome relief as I'd been in the midst of a painter's block and was close to chuck the canvas out the window.

"Hey man," chirped Donovan. "What's up?"

"Well, I was trying to paint but it doesn't look like it's gonna happen tonight." I gave the canvas a hard look, but it just gave me a blank look back.

"Aw, how come?"

"I guess I'm taped out of inspiration."

"Hey, here's an idea," said Don. "Why don't I come over and we grab something to eat?"

"Right," I sighed. "So who's the girl this time?" The last one had almost talked my ears off, and the one before that had been just plain nuts.

"Aww, Darren, there's no girl this time. It's just me."

Uh oh, I thought. What's he up to now?

"Well," I said aloud, "There's that Italian restaurant we had last time."

Donovan liked Italian.

"Yeah that one was good," he agreed. "Kind of pricey, though. How about we raid a McDonalds or get loaded on a pound of Kentucky Fried Chicken instead?"

"Don, that's friggin' gross. Why don't you just come over to my place? I was going to make pasta anyway."

I liked Italian too.

"Sure!" he said, "I'll see ya tonight."

"What time-"

Click. He'd hung up.

Asshole, I thought, even though I was smiling.

* * *

There was a knock at my door.

I'd texted him about the time, and he'd texted back that he'll be there around six. He was late. It was past seven now and I was fighting aliens on my laptop to keep my mind distracted from my stomach's unhappy noises. I let the aliens win as I went to get the door.

"Hey bro," grinned Donovan. His wet hair and the gigantic duffel bag slung over his shoulders told me he'd probably come straight from the showers of the hockey arena. He looked fresh though.

"You're late." I noted.

"I know. There was this chic in the crowd." He scratched his jaw, still grinning. He was almost good-looking if in a rough, untrustworthy kind of way.

"I thought you were seeing Cynthia."

"It's Angie now. Hey you got any beer? I'm starving, what you got cooking?"

"Linguini primavera," I handed him the beer and went over to the stove where I was keeping the sauce warm. I tasted it. It was a little saltier than I liked from sitting out, but it would do. I poured it over the pasta and served.

"Looks great," he said as he plunked himself onto the kitchen table and started gorging.

He munched for a while and then said, "So, why'd you and Colin breakup?"

That threw me. I put my fork down. Sure, I was out to my family, but I had only just broken up with my boyfriend of two years. That had been less than two weeks ago and I hadn't told a soul.

I decided to temporize. "What makes you think we broke up?"

"You took down his photographs," he said, pointing his fork at a blank wall.

"Oh." I had. It hadn't occurred to me that he'd notice. Donovan could be kind of perceptive sometimes for a jock.

"Plus Ashley said so. So I thought I'd come over and check you out."

I felt embarrassed. Sure, the break up had been mutual. But I hadn't been ready to deal with being single yet. And how the fuck had my sister found out?

Donovan put a hand on my shoulder and giving me a concerned big-brother look. "Hey. You doing alright?"

"Yeah."

"Well. If you ever wanna talk... I don't know much about relationships with guys, but y'know?" He smiled. "I'm here."

His hand was still on my shoulder. I could feel its warmth. Truth be told, Donovan was a hot number. In fact, if he hadn't been my brother... woah there! Get your mind out of the gutter Darren!

I sat back on the chair and his hand fell away. "Thanks Don." I said, maybe a bit too curtly because Donovan gave me a funny look.

"Anyway," said my brother. "There's another thing I wanted to meet up with you about." He sighed, massaging his neck.

He laid his hands flat on the table, palms down. A determined look. I noticed the dark hair all along his muscled forearms.

"Look. I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm swimming in debt, man. The job at the warehouse, it's steady but it barely covers the rent and utilities. I'm a bouncer on Saturdays at a club too, but it isn't enough. I was wondering if maybe... they could use me at your work place. I'm open to anything."

I felt bad for him. It knew what it had cost him to ask his kid brother for help, but there wasn't much I could do. I was a lowly assistant instructor in the arts school and Donovan couldn't tell a Picasso from a Michelangelo. We needed people with artistic talents, not a six-foot muscled hulk who might accidentally break a figurine. I suppressed a chuckle at the thought of mincing Mr. Princely teaching Donovan how to make jewellery. Mind you, Mr. Princely would enjoy the view, hell, almost everyone would...

And that's when I realized we could use him. Maybe. A smile crept across my face.

Donovan brightened, "You got an idea. Come on man, spill it."

"You really serious about being open to anything?" I was grinning now.

"Yeah! Damn right I am!" he slammed the table with his fist.

I chortled. "Great! How'd you like to be a nude model?"

The expression on his face was priceless. Or rather the sequence of expressions -- from incredulity, to chagrin, and finally to resignation, all transitioning seamlessly into the other. In fact, I thought, it might even be possible to convey those facets with the right layering of acrylic...

"You serious?" he exclaimed.

I nodded.

He contemplated it for a minute and then asked seriously, "What do I need to do?"

I told him. There'd be no fooling around. It usually started with some warm up poses, but eventually he'd have to hold poses for at least an hour, with twenty minute breaks in between. It helped if the model got creative with the poses since it made the painting more interesting.

I let him mull it over. Finally, he said sheepishly, "What if I get, y'know...turned on?"

The image came involuntarily: My brother lying naked with his cock hard. I swallowed and shook my head. Man, I seriously needed to get laid.

"Think of Mrs. Hendricks nude." I suggested. Mrs Hendricks was a shrivelled up 70-something prune who'd taught us both English in high school. I'd used her on a number of occasions to calm my horny self down. I was using her now.

"But what if I mess up?" he said anxiously.

I shrugged, "We could practice. Get you comfortable." A part of my brain was screaming something urgent but I wasn't listening. I was a professional. I was helping my brother out. And if on occasion I entertained less than brotherly thoughts, when had mere thoughts done any harm?

"You mean try it here?"

"Yeah."

"Now?"

"Sure, if you want." I kept my voice light. It was important that I keep this casual.

"I need more beer."

"If you knock yourself out you're not going to be able to hold a pose." I warned.

"Ok. I'll just have one, ok?" He was committed, just about.

"You can use my robe; it's behind the washroom door." I told him.

Donovan got up to get another beer, and I quickly dropped the dishes into the sink. I picked up the stuff I'd need and moved the television in the living room so that I'd have a clear view of the sofa from where I'd be painting. I could hear Donovan pacing around the kitchen and then move into the washroom. There was the unmistakable sound of Donovan unzipping and loosening his belt buckle. The anticipation was killing me.

Finally, Donovan reappeared in my robe. He chucked the empty beer can in the garbage bin.

"Ok. Let's do this." He said grimly.

I turned on the studio lighting.

"Alright, strip!"

The robe fell to the floor.

Oh baby baby...

Feeling a little light headed, I vaguely heard him say nervously, "Where you want me?"

"Just sit on the coach, find a comfy position." I said. He wasn't hard, but man, even so it was something else. He sat. He leaned back and put his massive arms loosely across the top of the sofa, his abs and shoulders rippling all the while.

Now to set the scene. I had to do something about Donovan's nervousness too. I went over to his duffel back.

"Hey, what you doing?"

"Rummaging through your stuff, what's it look like?"

"Now wait a minute..."

"Relax Don, I'm you're kid brother, remember? I'm a pro at this." I grinned, "You remember those Hustler magazines you bought way back when you were fourteen? Guess who left one in the washroom for Mom to find?"

"What? That was you?" He yelled. His face flushed as he moved to stand up.

"Uh uh uh...You move from the sofa, and the gig's off."

He froze. I had him.

"You little shit..." He seethed.

"Yeah, I know." I gloated. "I still remember Mom raiding your room and finding the rest of your stash, plus the bondage and sex toy ads."

In the meantime, I'd pulled out my brother's hockey stick, helmet and smelly Canucks jersey. I leaned the stick against the arm of the sofa, hooked the helmet on a corner, and threw the jersey haphazardly on the other side. Stepping back, I evaluated the tableau critically. It still needed something...I picked the beer can he'd crushed out of the garbage bin and put it into his hand.

"What the hell?"

"Just hold it." I told him.

The perfect jock.

"Alright I'm starting now, hold that pose for twenty minutes." I said.

I got behind my canvas, took a breath to steady myself, and started sketching an outline. I noticed right away how small the sofa looked with him in it. His thick, broad torso filled the space. There were scars on his chest I hadn't seen before, though it must have been years since the last time I saw him shirtless. He didn't look nervous now. He looked a little pissed off actually, which was good, added to the scene.

The scene. Right. Who the fuck was I kidding. I didn't give a damn about the scene. What I wanted to do was to run my hands across those ripped abs, lick between those pecs where his treasure trail started, and suck that cock, suck it suck it suck it... Jesus Christ was it just me or was it getting hot in here?

"Man, these lights are hot," Donovan remarked as if on cue.

"Yeah, they're cheap, sorry." I apologized. I'd gotten the lights at a discount price from someone I knew who worked for a porn studio. That's right boys, when you see those actors sweating, it isn't just from the sex.

Speaking of sweat, I couldn't help noticing how good Donovan looked with it. There was a definite sheen on his muscles. I was using bold, dark lines for his body, and shades of pink and red for his skin. It was working up a sweat too.

I took off my shirt.

That's when things started to get weird. Now, I paint men and women for a living, and one thing I knew how to do was to tell looks from looks. From Donovan, I'd known "hey, how's it going my lil' bro" looks and "hey bro, wanna have a beer" looks. But I'd never seen the look he gave me now. This was something new. His slack jaw had a hunger in it. The hooded intensity in his eyes had intent behind them that was anything but innocent.

I had a good body, I knew that. Our parents had passed on good genes to both of us. Mountaineering as part of my landscape and photography work had given me muscle and definition. I'd just never known my brother to be interested.

He stared at my lower lip. I licked it. He licked his.

And then I forgot to breathe.

Donovan was getting hard. His big-veined, uncut cock pulsed and grew. The purple meat curved sinfully upwards. And all the while he looked straight at me. There was nothing brotherly in that look. Or that cock.

Holy shit. This was getting dangerous.

"Ok, I think it's been about twenty minutes. We'll take a break. You want some water? I'll get some water." Without waiting for his reply I dashed to the kitchen. I filled a cup with water and drained it. Filled it again. I felt my brother coming up behind me. And then I felt his body heat. I turned.

He had his hand on the counter on both sides of me, trapping me, eyes burning into mine.

"Want some?" I said weakly, putting the cup between us.

Our fingers touched as he took it without a word and drained it. I watched feverishly as his throat muscles worked. He put the empty cup down on the counter with finality and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaned into me. And then he cupped my hard cock and all I could do was moan.

"You want me, don't you." It wasn't a question. His voice was like wet gravel, hard and coarse. "This was your plan all long, eh? Get your big dumb brother naked. So you could get off on the thought of me, eh?"

With the other hand he palmed my face. Bringing our lips close enough almost to touch, he whispered, "Well, it worked." And then he closed the distance with his mouth. The last vestiges of my sanity evaporated with the heat of his lips, his tongue, his naked rod pressed against my belly, his hands feeling up my sides, my own on his hard sweaty back.

The next thing I knew he was lifting me over his shoulder and fireman hauling me down the hall. He was on top of me the instant he put me down on the sofa. He kissed me hard and then nuzzled my neck with his unshaven jaw till my toes curl. I bit his shoulder; he groaned, and rearing up, he unzipping my fly and ripped my pants off. It was sweet relief for my cock.

I gripped his curved cock against mine. "Guess I'm not the only one our parents made bent." I drawled.

Donovan was humping his cock against mine. "You wanna suck it?"

"Hell yeah."

He scooted up and lowered his cock to my face. I started sucking. He was big, hard, warm, salty and perfect. He moaned and started thrusting gently. Holy fuck, I was sucking my brother's cock and I was on cloud nine.

He pulled out and said, "Let's suck together."

We got in a sixty-nine position on our sides and he went home on my dick. He was taller but his dick was longer, so it worked out. His mouth was hot and he sucked fast and hard, but I was better. I could take him all the way down my throat.

"Fuck Darren, I'm gonna cum if you keep this up." He groaned. "I want you on your knees."

I got on my knees. Donovan got behind me. He started licking my hole.

"Fuck..." I gasped. Somehow I knew then that he'd fucked guys before.

I gritted my teeth against the pleasure. God he was amazing. His tongue circled my hole, making little stabs that made me cry out and writhe on the sofa. Looking around I saw that his cock was leaking. Donovan made a lot of precum.

The next thing I knew his tongue was gone, replaced by something harder and more demanding. His cock slid along my crack, nudging teasingly while his big hands explored my back. Donovan groaned.

"Wanna fuck you, Darren."

I arched my back. "You got a condom?"

"Shit... I don't." His cock nudge at my entrance in frustration.

"Me either." Damn. But Jesus we had to do this. I didn't know if there'd be a second chance, and I knew this was what I wanted. "Lube's upstairs. Don't want to get it. Put some spit on it. Fuck me dry."

I looked back at him and watched him put spit on his cock and smear it around. I reached over and positioned his cock at my entrance. Then I braced myself on the arm of the sofa as he pushed.

It burned bad as his head slid in.

"More spit." I gasped.

He dribbled some more spit, his hand firmly on my hips, as he slowly worked the rest of it in, pulling back a little then pushing it in a little deeper each time till he was sliding in and out almost all the way. By that time he was ramming my sweet spot inside and it was feeling good. Hell, more than good. The pleasure just built and built. I'd never known it to be like this.

"Donovan...." I cried.

Hearing his name, he leaned over me, his chest rubbing against my back hard. We were working up a sweat, me being fucked raw and dry by my dumb jock of a brother. He reached around with one hand a splayed his fingers over my pec. When I turned to watch him plow into me, he kissed my breath away.

"Don't think this is what Mom and Dad intended for us." He grunted thickly into my ear, pounding me. "But your ass was meant for my cock."

"Yeah Don... Fuck your brother good..."

"Fuckin' A...." he growled, picking up speed.

I reached around to push his ass closer. I wanted him in as far as he could go so that the walls of my gut could mould around ever millimetre of his skin. Donovan was going full throttle now, ramming in and out, his precum making my insides slicker, easier. His breath came ragged and hot on my shoulder. We'd become like animals in that our main thought was just to fuck and fuck harder, except that we knew this was forbidden and right.

"I'm close," he rasped, his breath hot against my neck. I was almost there too. His assault on my cock, my ass, and my skin was sending waves crashing on me. Something had to give. This was too hot. Too good.

He slammed into me once, twice, his big muscles all around me straining, and his whole body convulse. My brother roared as his warm wet cum filled me inside. He pumped his load, filling me till cum leaked out of my sphincter. The extra lubrication of his semen was what pushed me over and made my world explode. "Sssshit...!" I yelled as cum shot out of my cock, spilling on the sofa and on my brother's hand.

By the time it was done I was trembling and hoarse. We were drenched in sweat. Donovan was still having little convulsions. I turned to him. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his jaw was slack and he was still breathing hard. We kissed, Don tonguing me for good measure. He smeared my cum on my abs and rubbed it in. And then we both collapsed.

"Fuck bro. That was something." He grinned tiredly, his cock still in me.

"Yeah," was all I could think to say, grinning back. It was something all right.

He shifted and his cock slid out. It was still half hard. He moved so we were face to face, his arms draped over me. He nuzzled me, and started to drift off. We'd have hell to pay in the morning, I knew. But as I closed my eyes and put my hand on his chest and felt the thumping of my brother's heart, I couldn't think how things could get better than this.