When the Night Falls
John was up early, the familiar sounds of the kitchen his only company as he moved through his breakfast routine, eggs, toast, coffee, the habits that settled his nerves. Every gesture was familiar, but today the background hum of uncertainty felt lighter than usual.
Matthew shuffled in, tousled and wary, his phone almost hidden in his palm. He offered John a crooked, nervous smile. “Barely slept. The app kept buzzing all night. I haven’t even looked yet.”
John grinned, encouraging. “Hand it over, coach’s orders.”
With only a little hesitation, Matthew offered up the phone. Together, they checked his profile, several likes, a sprinkling of messages, and, most importantly, a handful of honest, gentle notes that made Matthew’s expression soften with disbelief and hope.
“Wow, that’s the best smile I’ve seen all day,” John read, grinning as he looked up. “See? Not so scary.”
One message drew Matthew in: “Love the hiking pictures! Which trail’s your favourite?” The nerves that had tightened Matthew’s shoulders began to ease. Laughter came more easily as John read some of the goofiest messages aloud in silly voices, lightness breaking into the kitchen just as the morning brightened.
They crafted a friendly, genuine reply to the hiking message and sent it. As they finished breakfast, John sensed a quiet anticipation sparking in Matthew, a glint he’d missed in his brother’s eyes for far too long.
By late morning, after a flurry of texts and nervous wardrobe changes, John and Matthew found themselves parked a block away from a downtown café. Matthew, in a blue shirt and clean jeans, fidgeted with his keys. “Are you sure you don’t want to just leave me here?”
“Not a chance,” John said, offering a reassuring hand to his brother’s shoulder. “I’ll grab a table by the window, total invisibility. Emergency exits all planned.”
Inside, John settled with a coffee and a magazine, keeping Matthew in his peripheral vision. He watched as Matthew met the woman from the app, a bright smile, city energy, just a little late. The first half hour looked promising; conversation was easy, laughter real. John watched his brother relax, saw colour come back to his face, and felt an ache of pride.
But then, John saw the woman’s body language shift. Leaning back, she seemed to close off. Her smile faded quickly, her words grew short.
Within minutes, she stood, shouldered her bag, and after a polite but fast goodbye, slipped out the door. John stood up at once, his mind racing, and made his way to Matthew’s table.
“What happened?” John asked, keeping his tone quiet.
Matthew didn’t look up right away. “She asked about my last relationship. I told her I was divorced. She said she didn’t want the baggage. Walked out. Didn’t even finish her drink.”
John heard the hollow crack in Matthew’s voice, the kind that only came when hope turned sharply into disappointment. For a long moment, neither brother spoke. John just squeezed Matthew’s arm and nodded quietly. “Let’s go home. You did great today, Matt. However, it ended, that part’s true.”
They left the café in silence, the car ride home heavy with what could not be fixed by reassurance alone.
Their parents were not going to be home today.
At home, John led Matthew straight to the kitchen and disappeared, re-emerging with a bottle of old brandy he’d smuggled into the house months before. He poured two glasses and slid one to Matthew. “I’ve been saving this for an emergency. Today qualifies.”
The first drink went down fast for Matthew, tears clinging to the edges of his voice as the alcohol did its work. John nursed his slower, keeping watch.
“She didn’t even really listen,” Matthew muttered at last. “It’s like I stopped being a person and became just a problem to avoid.”
John answered softly. “She never saw you anyway, Matt. That wasn’t your fault.”
Matthew’s words tumbled out in fits and starts, stories of what went wrong with Lucinda, the endless second-guessing, the secret hope that someone out there would believe he could be more than his mistakes.
“It just… hurts,” he admitted quietly, eyes wet. “I miss the small stuff. Having someone at the end of the day. But after Lucinda, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to even want it.”
“You don’t have to have all the answers yet,” John replied, steady and gentle. “You just have to show up again tomorrow.”
The brandy loosened Matthew’s defences. He laughed at things he wouldn’t have days ago, admitted the ways he still felt broken, and in those spaces, John just listened. When Matthew’s speech grew slurred and his hands clumsy, John gently encouraged him up and helped him down the hall toward his bedroom.
In the room, Matthew fumbled to unbutton his shirt and tug at his jeans, but after several failed attempts and a string of curses, he relented and let John help. John worked the buttons, careful not to laugh or embarrass his brother, and got him down to just his underwear before steering him to the bed and pulling the blanket over him.
Matthew reached out suddenly, grabbing John’s wrist tight. “Don’t leave. Please.”
John nodded, voice soft. "I’m here, I promise."
He quickly stripped down to his own underwear and climbed into bed behind Matthew, slipping in as the little spoon, a comfort from their childhood years, a silent promise that neither of them needed to be alone tonight. Matthew’s arm curled around John’s stomach, breath slowing as exhaustion and brandy both began to pull him under.
John laid awake a while, feeling the warmth of his brother’s arm, the quiet heartbreak in the air, and the tangled gratitude for this moment of closeness. Tomorrow would be messy, uncertain. But for now, he was exactly where he needed to be.
As the night deepened, Matthew’s breathing grew steady, but his hand began to move, tracing slow circles on John’s chest. John’s mind went back to how David had said that his chest felt like boobs. John didn’t know what to do, so he just stayed there, feeling the warmth of Matthew’s touch, the gentle pressure of his fingers.
Matthew’s movements became more deliberate, his fingers pinching John’s nipples, sending jolts of sensation through John’s body. John felt a stirring in his vagina, a warmth that spread through his core. He thought of stopping Matthew, knowing this was wrong, but he didn’t. He knew how lonely Matthew had been, and he felt a strange mix of guilt and desire.
Matthew’s hand trailed lower, slipping into John’s underwear. John’s breath hitched as Matthew’s fingers found his vagina, drawing slow circles around his clit. John bit his lip, covering his mouth to stifle any noise. The sensation was overwhelming.
Matthew’s fingers moved with a drunken clumsiness, but there was a tenderness in his touch that John couldn’t ignore. He slipped a finger inside John, the intrusion sending a wave of heat through John’s body. John’s hips moved in rhythm with Matthew’s hand, the pleasure building with each thrust.
Matthew added a second finger, scissoring them inside John, the stretch and burn adding to the intensity. John’s body responded, his hips bucking, his breath coming in short gasps. The sound of wet flesh filled the room, the squelch of Matthew’s fingers moving in and out of John’s pussy.
"Fuck, Matt," John whispered, his voice barely audible. The pleasure was too much, the sensation of Matthew’s fingers inside him, the warmth of Matthew’s body pressed against his back. John’s orgasm hit him like a wave, his body convulsing, his pussy clenching around Matthew’s fingers.
As John came down from his orgasm, he felt a throbbing sensation against his butt. He realized Matthew was hard, his cock pressing against John’s ass. John contemplated, his mind racing. He thought of the times he had blown David and Conrad, the shame and arousal he had felt. He decided that if he could do that for them, he could do it for Matthew, to help his lonely brother.
John turned Matthew onto his back and slowly pulled down his underwear, revealing his hard cock. John took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned down, taking Matthew’s cock into his mouth. He started slow, his lips and tongue exploring the length of Matthew’s shaft.
Matthew groaned, his hands finding their way into John’s hair, guiding him deeper. John relaxed his throat, taking Matthew in deeper, the taste of him filling his mouth. He could feel the veins pulsing against his tongue, the heat of Matthew’s cock as it slid in and out of his mouth.
"Fuck, yes," Matthew murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed John’s head down, making him deep throat his cock. John gagged slightly, the sensation of Matthew’s cock hitting the back of his throat sending a rush of adrenaline through him.
Matthew’s hands tightened in John’s hair, holding him in place as he fucked his mouth. John could feel the tears streaming down his face, the drool dripping from his chin. The sound of Matthew’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth filled the room, the wet, messy noise of their desire.
"Lucinda," Matthew moaned, his voice breaking. John felt a pang of jealousy, knowing Matthew was thinking of someone else, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. He wanted to give Matthew the best blowjob he could, to help his brother find some relief from his loneliness.
John could feel Matthew’s cock throbbing in his mouth, the taste of pre-cum on his tongue. He knew Matthew was close, his body tensing, his breath coming in short gasps. With a final thrust, Matthew came, his cum filling John’s throat. John swallowed, the taste of Matthew’s release lingering in his mouth.
As Matthew’s body relaxed, John climbed back into bed, slipping into the small spoon position. Matthew’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rhythm of their breathing.
As John lay awake in the quiet darkness, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of Matthew’s breathing beside him, a knot of worry twisted deep in his chest. The closeness of the night, the tender moments they’d just shared, felt fragile, like it could shatter with the first light of dawn.
What if Matthew regretted it? What if the confusion and pain he’d been trying to bury resurfaced harsher than ever? John knew his brother was already carrying so much, heartbreak, doubt, shame, and now John wasn’t sure how Matthew would face the morning after this night.
Would he pull away? Shut down? Or would a new sense of comfort quietly grow between them?
John swallowed hard, willing the fear to fade, but the questions hovered stubbornly in his mind. There was no clear answer yet. All he knew was that however Matthew felt, he would be there, steady, patient, and ready to hold the space, no matter what tomorrow brought.
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