lol. microsoft works word processor turns ‘goddammit’ into ‘goldsmith’ : D.


My stomach flips and Brandon’s expression changes to one that’s angrier. “Apparently two weeks was enough to leave her children alone with not so much as a call.” he says, raising his hand to run it through his hair. My eyes widen a bit when I take note of two band aids on his forearm. He notices me looking, and explains. “She’s shitfaced and pissed … but she still noticed you’ve been stealing some of her makeup.” he says, raising an eyebrow at the last word.

I snort. “It’s not like I can afford to buy my own.”

“Why wear it at ALL, you little queer.” he laughs good naturedly, despite our current situation. “Uh, anyways, we’re gonna stay at my friend’s place for the night. Maybe longer.”

I panic. “Wha? Where does he live? What about our stuff? What about my school?”

He sighs. “He lives in an apartment complex downtown, if you’re careful you can get some of your stuff, and it’s Friday, so we’ve got two days until you go back.” he explains.

I nod, a bit too blindsided to talk, and I turn and peek around the corner into the den - Sure enough, there she is, sitting on the couch watching TV in the pitch black with a bottle of something in her bony fist. I’m shoved by an onslaught of mixed feelings, but I press against the adjacent wall and tip toe by. However, I don’t see the bottle lying in my path, and I step onto it. I didn’t use much force, but it’s enough to crack the neck and glass tabs into the arch of my foot like a bad paper cut. I curse, and it’s enough to catch her attention, so she turns to me.

I freeze as she perks like a fox on the prowl, features twisted into something unrecognizably awful. She stands on shaky legs and advances towards me as I clutch my foot. Her voice is slurred when she grabs my jaw and speaks; I’m frozen like a deer in the headlights. “Why the fuck d’you look like a goddamn girl?” she says, turning me to the right with an appraising look in her glazed eyes. I don’t move. “Fucking stealing my makeup, you’re a goddamn faggot aren’t you?” and she raises her other hand back.

I assume she’s going to hit me, and even though I’ve got bad reflexes hers are worse, and I throw her hand off me and dart. I opt to just leave rather than getting a change of clothes, whirling back down the hall towards Brandon. He’s grabbed the keys and his jacket, and he has the front door open. I pause only momentarily to grab my shoes from the mat before running outside. “Sorry mom.” I tell her, but I know she can’t hear me.

Brandon dashes ahead of me and leaps into his rickety truck, I hear it clunk to life as I get in. I only get a chance to glance for a moment at my mother’s silhouette in the doorway, shouting something that sounds like she’s calling me a ‘fucking trannie’, but then we speed off down the street. The car’s cold and I scrunch my knees against my chest in the passenger seat, still shaky and worried. I rest my chin on my knees as we turn down another road. I catch Brandon looking over at me when we hit a red light, so I look back. He has an eyebrow raised.

“What?” I ask curiously.

“I think your little boyfriend tried to suck your blood.”

Despite the tense situation, I blush and raise my hand to cover the mark on my neck. “Umm, yeah.” I say stupidly.

“You like him though, huh?” he asks when the light turns green, looking back at the road. We pass the school.

I nod. “Yup.” I say simply, not really wanting to get into this sort of thing with my brother, it’s like having your parents offer you condoms and tell you to make good choices.

“So when do I get to meet him, officially?”

I snort. “Hmm, well if today is Friday, theeen … never. Wait, you’ve already met him!” I realize. He cocks his head.

“What? Which one is he again …?”

I make a loud exasperated noise and uncurl my legs. “The redhead you idiot, my best and only friend since I was six goddamn years old!” I figured he knew, he’s seen Coy a handful of times, but not recently.

“No way, HE’S the one you’re fucking? The tall one? Ohhh …”

I shift uncomfortably, not wanting to correct him on the fucking. I can’t believe he didn’t know who Coy was after all this time and after all my gushing. I’m about to call him a retard, but he turns the truck sharply and my head hits the window as he pulls into a dank parking lot.

“We’re here.” he tells me, and I look up. It’s a tall beige and brown apartment building that doesn’t look particularly inviting. Balconies that are in view are littered with lawn chairs and belated Christmas lights, and the whole thing just screams ‘cheap’. We get out of the truck (I nearly stumble because I’m too small) and silently walk up to the front doors and Brandon searches for his friend’s name on the intercom thing.

“Hello?” a voice calls out, raspy through the speaker. It’s a little high pitched, but maybe that’s the tone he used.

“Hey, it’s us, let us in.” my brother says back.

“Sure.” is all the other boy says, and the door opens. The lobby is refreshingly warm, but it smells like old lady. There are fake ferns in cheap terracotta vases on the abrasive orange carpet lining the walls next to the elevator. We’re still quiet as we get into an elevator, and Brandon presses the third floor button, six floors in all. The lurch when we start to move doesn’t do much to help the tired and sick feeing I’ve acquired. When we stop, the doors open, revealing a long hallway with that same static carpet like a pumpkin and that same odd smell. We pad down the hall to the left and Brandon stops at a wooden door marked ‘217’ in brass letters. He knocks twice, but the second time his fist hits someone’s chest as the door is abruptly swung open. I jump in shock.

Standing in front of Brandon is a frighteningly tall man, around the same age as Brandon. Poker straight angel blonde hair frames his face as he grins like a little kid. His orange-brown eyes shine excitedly behind thin silver glasses balanced on his nose.

“You’re here!!” he cheers, the same questionable voice I recognize from the intercom. He leaps forwards and throws his arms around Brandon; I have to sidestep to avoid getting accidentally smacked. He’s still smiling with his chin on my brother’s shoulder, having to bend down a little bit because neither of the Carnovale children are very tall. He doesn’t get a hug back, but Brandon kind of sinks into him in that nonchalant manner in which he does everything else. Tall boy releases him and pushes his glasses up, still beaming. My eyebrows furrow as my brother actually smiles at him a little.

Tall boy’s gaze turns to me, and he claps his hands delightedly. Only one thought makes it into the chasm between my ears: GAY. “Oooh you must be Keith!” he exclaims, and before I get a chance to hit him, he grabs me under the arms and lifts me into the air, hugging me and pressing me against his chest.

I shriek. “Get off!!” and I think I’m blushing against my will. “Braaaaaaandon!” I cry helplessly.

The tall boy cuddles me like a teddy bear before thumping me back to the pumpkin carpet. “Sorry, you’re just like a tiny little dollie.” he says simply and swings his arm behind him into his apartment, beckoning us in. my eye twitches at being called a ‘tiny little dollie’, but I follow Brandon in.

It’s a small apartment, a small open-space kitchen with cracked tile, a small two-person white table that may or may not be patio furniture, a pepper colored couch and a small TV. Off to the right is a doorway I assume is a bedroom, and to the left is a bathroom.

“Welcome to my humble abode~!” Tall boy stretches his arms above his head in a triumphant way.

Brandon snorts. “Get over yourself, it’s a sty.” he takes off his coat and hangs it on a mickey mouse coat hanger near the door. I stand perfectly still, not used to strangers, I’m scared to death. I jump again as tall boy crouches unexpectedly in front of me … damn he’s tall, taller than Coy by a lot. It’s unsettling, but it actually helps that he’s crouching.

“Hello there, shy brother of Brandon.” he grins, and I blush because he’s really quite pretty … not as gorgeous as Coy, but pretty for a friend of my brothers.

“My name’s Jeff Albertson. You’re Keith, aren’t you?”

I nod again. “Nice to meet you …” I say quietly, politely. Brandon’s leaning about the patio table watching us in a way that confuses me. Despite being strangers to tall boy Jeff, I ask him something:

“What are you to Brandon?” I question, referring to their relationship, because it’s puzzling me. Jeff has GOT to be gay with a voice like that, and Brandon let him hug him … but I’m still not sure.

Jeff grins once more and steps back; Brandon’s still watching him as he gets closer to him. I flush red as he shoots out and snags Brandon’s wrist, pulling him forwards and cradling him against his chest. He nuzzles his cheek against his own, smiling happily. My brother yelps and struggles against his grip, yelling his name, obviously not as pleased as Jeff.

“You’re perceptive aren’t you, little dollie.” he says to me, burying his face in Brandon’s sandy blonde mop of hair. “Your brother is my one and only.” and his tone holds an undeniable note of love.

I smile. Brandon’s gay …? Maybe homosexuality is genetic or something like that, because what are the odds that we’d both turn out like that? It’s kind of cool really, no wonder he was so fine with me dating Coy. I never would have seen it coming.

“Jeff!” Brandon yells again. “I’m not your one and goddamn only!!“ he insists and manages to wrench out of the arms holding him. He faces Jeff, who’s grin hasn’t ceased. He should be upset shouldn’t he? Brandon rejected him or something, right? He leans down and licks Brandon’s cheek like a puppy, I can hear the scrape of unshaven stubble from where I’m standing.

“No need to get cold feet now, Brandy.” he coos. Brandon blushes and pushes him off, wiping his face with the back of his hand. I grin, because in all my sixteen years I have never seen him so flustered. Brandon whirls to me.

“Keith, I’m going to bed. You can stay here, but don’t let this lecherous pervert take advantage of you.” he snarls, but I have no idea why he’s so mad at Jeff.

“A-alright.” I reply, rooted to the ground as he stomps to the bedroom and shuts the door. He must come here a lot, because if he was unfamiliar with the place he wouldn’t just go into the bedroom like that.

“Don’t take the whole bed! Save room for me!” Jeff hollers after him, and he both hear a loud ‘piss off’ from across the apartment. He sighs and looks at me, pushing his glasses up. “So little dollie, are you hungry?”

I think about it. I didn’t eat anything at Coy’s, or at home … “Yes.” I reply. He smiles and whisks to the fridge, leaning over to look in, and I try not to look at the blue and red briefs showing above a spiked belt around his waist.

“Hmm, lets see … I’ve got diet coke … cheese whiz … strawberries and chocolate syrup …” he lists. I wrinkle my nose at the last two … they had better not be for what I think they’re for. My fears are confirmed when Jeff turns to look at me and winks.

“Ew.” I cringe. He laughs, high and silvery.

“What’s wrong? It’s not gross, your brother can do this thing with his -”

“AAAAHOHMYGODSHUTUP!” I screech and cover my ears. I lied earlier, this isn’t cute, it’s disturbing.

“Fine, so … cheese whiz then?” he tries.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry anymore.”

He laughs again and walks by me. “Well, you can watch TV then if you want.” he sits at one end of the pepper couch, and I cautiously walk up to it and sit down next to him, scrunching into the opposite corner. He flicks on the TV but lets me pick the channel; I pick Futurama. We’re quiet again, but after about ten minutes or so, he says something.

“Nice hickey.” he comments, so I look over at him and I think I’m blushing. “Girlfriend give you that?”

“Uh, boyfriend.” I correct him.

“Ah, thought so. Nice. Is he hot?”

I nod and grin. “Very much so.” I tell him, because it’s the truth … in my opinion.

“That’s always nice.” he says conversationally. I wonder if he’s this menial with Brandon. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I make a mental not to take photos of Coy. “Umm … you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but … what the hell do you see in my brother?” I know it’s a little mean of a question to ask of a stranger, but I have to know. Don’t get me wrong, Brandon’s the best brother ever and I love him, but I don’t think of him as being a boyfriend to anyone. He’s too scruffy, he barely ever shaves, he’s indifferent and unromantic. He certainly doesn’t look very gay, and if he got mad when Jeff told ME about their relationship, he must spaz when he tells other people.

Jeff sighs and rests his elbow on the arm of the couch, throwing his legs up on the cushions, brushing my leg. “Sometimes I ask myself that, but … wait, do you wanna hear this? Cause I don’t want to gross you out again.”

“I’m not eight.” I pout, this is different than chocolate strawberries and kink.

“Fine. Well … first off, we’ve been going out for about four months … and he’s … god, there’s just something about him.” he tries to explain (To tell the truth, four months was longer than I’d thought.) “He’s nothing like any of my other boyfriends were … he’s so - not gay. He’s submissive, shy, and even though you probably don’t think so tonight, he’s pretty loving.” he finishes.

I don’t know whether to smile or wince. This is insane, ‘submissive’, ‘shy’ … Brandon has never been that, he’s loud and stubborn, and I don’t know what this boy is talking about. “I don’t believe you.” I end up saying, and he just grins again. “I’ve known my brother for sixteen years, and I’ve never seen him lovey-dovey about anything.”

“Hm.” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve known him for a little over a year now, and he’s been pretty passionate about things … me.”

I laugh. “Well, he told you to piss off, I guess that’s pretty passionate.”

He goes to say something back, but on a perfect cue that makes me think that he was listening, Brandon walks into the living room. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black board shorts that I haven’t seen before. His expression is oddly mixed. Jeff doesn’t turn around, Brandon looks at me.

“Keith, close your eyes and cover your ears.” he orders and I obey, not one to get in the way of my brother’s happiness, plus he’d probably deck me if I didn’t.

They talk in hushed voices, still loud enough that I can hear even with my hands over my ears.

“Sorry.” Brandon says very simply, which is like him … but he doesn’t usually apologize. When he ran over my rollerblades with his truck, he just shrugged.

“You’d better be.” Jeff murmurs. “Stop caring if anyone knows about us, no one else gives I damn, I told you. You’ve gotta stop being so cold.”

I nearly wince, because I wouldn’t be surprised if Brandon hit him.

“Okay.” Brandon says quietly, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He did not just say that … god, Jeff must have one hell of a hold of him. The next thing I hear makes me wrinkle my nose. The couch springs creak and I hear a shuffling of feet along with a muffled wet noise. I have a weak constitution, so I can’t help but open my eyes a tiny crack, peeking through my lashes. Even though I try not to, I giggle. Jeff’s sitting just as he was, holding Brandon’s head in his hands, rubbing a thumb over his jaw, and my brother, my closest blood relative, my mentor, my guardian, is leaning over the back of the couch to let him. They’re kissing, and not lightly either, if I were a little more uncouth, I’d say that they were sucking face. I see what he means by passionate though, it’s obvious Brandon doesn’t want to go anywhere, his hands are fisted in Jeff’s shirt and his eyes are screwed shut.

I laugh again, and I’m not sure why I find that funny, it just is. Brandon’s owned.

After a few more moments, Brandon opens his eyes and looks right at me. I squeak. He stumbles back to his feet (he had them off the floor and was resting on the back of the couch with his ribs for balance) and stares at me.

“You little pervert!” he shrieks. I laugh again, because I’ve completely changed they way I look at him now, and it’s so cool.

“C’mon …” Jeff slinks quickly off the couch, so fast I barely see him. He’s behind my brother now, lips ghosting over his neck and up his ear in a manner that can’t be described as anything but intimate. Brandon stops looking at me, and his eyes get heavy like he’s hypnotized, he leans back into Jeff, who looks at me. “I know we just met, little dollie, and I hate to traumatize you like this, but …” he pauses and nips at the shell of Brandon’s ear, then grabs both his hands and starts pulling him towards the bedroom “… you’re out of luck today. There’s earplugs in the drawer next to the fridge.”

My eyes widen. “Don’t you DARE~!!” I leap up and stand on the couch to keep threatening them, but Jeff just hauls my brand new submissive brother across the apartment with a wink. I hear the door click when he locks it.

xxxxxxxxxx

Fourty.

Five.

Minutes.

Later.

The earplugs are useless. I’m completely and officially scarred for life, and I have a new found empathy for Sasha and how she has to deal with her sibling being involved with someone, this is terrifying. These walls are cheap and thin, I can still fucking hear things, even with a couch cushion over my head. Those two have absolutely no shame, and aren’t making an effort to be quiet on my behalf. Oh god, what if this IS them being quiet? I’d hate to hear them loud. If they go past the hour mark, I’m breaking that door down (yeah right) and ripping their dicks off. Wait, I don’t want to see my brother naked. Eww. Okay, I’m just screwed.

I can only take so much moans, mattress squeaks and headboard banging before I snap. Oh god, I’m thinking about them now. Oh god.

After another half hour, I finally fall asleep, presented with dreams that I really don’t want to think about anymore.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I wake up the next morning, my legs and back are sore and I smell food. Sitting up groggily, a threadbare blanket slips from my shoulders; one of them covered me during the night. I look around at the kitchen with a yawn, and I see Jeff at the stove. He has two frying pans going on the stove and he’s wearing plaid pyjama pants and an oversized red t-shirt that dips below his collarbone. He turns around when he notices me.

“Morneeeeeeeeening~!” he says cheerfully and I’m grossed out as I think of reasons he might be happy. Ick.

“Don’t you ‘morneeeeng’ me.” I yawn again.

He raises a ladle covered in pancake batter. “Huh? Why not?”

I glare, clearly wanting to say ‘I know what you did to my brother’. “Those earplug didn’t work worth a damn.” I scold. He gives me a lopsided smile and turns back to breakfast.

“It’s not my fault your brother’s loud.”

I want to tell him that he was loud too, but again, I stay quiet. “Mmh. What time is it?”

“One twenty three.”

“Okay … Can I use your phone?” I ask, and he walks across the kitchen, rummaging in a backpack on the table before tossing me a cell that I assume is his. Flipping it open, I quickly figure out how it works and dial a number that I know better than my own. One ring … two … three … four …

“Hullo?” a sleepy voice picks up. I grin.

“Hi, studmuffin. Didja just wake up?” I ask Coy cheerily, glad to be talking to him. I lift up my foot and inspect the sole … there’s a pink cut from the bottle I stepped on yesterday … it stings a bit, I’ll have to ask the brother-defiler for a band aid.

“Nnh … naw, I’m watching the Jetsons.” he laughs. I smile again and I don’t think I can ever stop now, he’s too cute. “Where the crap are you? The caller ID said J Albertson.”

“Well … Brandon and I are at his boyfriend’s apartment.” I hesitate in telling him, worrying about how Brandon overreacted yesterday when I found out … do I have a right to tell Coy?

“Wha? Wh --- wait, boyfriend?! No WAY!” he sounds excited, which I’m grateful for.

“Yes way! I found out yesterday, and they’re so damn cute together.” I say giddily.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Is this ‘J Albertson’ hot?”

I blush at his blatancy, but there’s no doubt. “His name’s Jeff, and he‘s SO hot, Brandon’s done well for himself …” I pause. “You know, I think there’s more gay guys in this city than you’d think.”

“Definitely, we’re just all hidden.” he agrees with a laugh.

“So, can I come over today? Jeff sucks.” I tell him, looking over at Jeff with a grin. He’s pouting at me.

“Sorry, no can do. Mom’s insisting on taking me to Art Knapps, she’s going to try to make us a decent garden this year.”

I’m not used to being rejected by him, even this small amount … it’s weird. “That’s alright, tomorrow then.” I tell him, trying hard not to sound sad.

“Don’t be upset, I’ll try to come over later, depends on how long it takes.” he compromises.

“It’s okay, if you’re busy, there’s no need …”

“Keeeeeii, don’t guilt me, I can’t ditch my mom!” he whines, and I feel guilty for trying. I lean back against the arm of the couch with a huff.

“Yeah, sorry … I’ll come over tomorrow, alright? I officially book your time.”

I smile as he laughs. I love making him laugh, I like the way it sounds. “Okay, I’ll tell my secretary to leave you a space in my busy agenda.”

I snort. “Who’s your secretary? Trixie?”

“Cheeky little bastard … Well, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” he says, and I think he’s going to hang up, but he says one last thing. “I sort of miss you.”

Just his tone makes me blush. “I miss you too.” I say back, which is pathetic, because it hasn’t even been twenty four hours since we saw each other. I hear him hang up his phone, and I pull Jeff’s cell phone away from my ear, flipping it closed. I stare at it in my hands, trying to make Coy materialize through the phone. It doesn’t work, I sigh and shuffle my feet against the coarse carpet because I know I’m being clingy, but I still miss him. His family comes first though, before his boyfriend at least. Especially since he’s the only male in the house now, since his dad died.

“Awww, he misses you? That’s so cuuute!” Jeff coos from somewhere behind me.

“Get a grip, what are you, five?” I flop down on the couch, rolling onto my back.

“Feh, you’re about fourteen years off. I can’t be happy for you?”

“No.” I reply petulantly, then he shuts up for a while and I start thinking. Fourteen? I’m not the best at math, but I begin counting.

“What the fuck? You’re nineteen?!” I turn around and kneel on the couch, staring at him incredulously. That’s only three years older than me, I could be dating him! That’s four years younger than Brandon!

“Yeeeeah, why?” he’s staring at the bacon, poking it with a fork, prodding them around the pan.

“You’ve only been out of high school for a year! I never saw you there!”

“Yup, I went to St. Ann’s, that one across town.”

“And you have your own apartment!”

“Yeah, my parents pay for a lot of it.”

“And you’re dating my brother!” I finish, unsure if four years is a big age gap. Maybe it just seems like it, but nineteen and twenty three seem pretty far apart. He finally turns to look at me, clearly unhappy.

“Are you saying I’m too young for him?” he accuses. I’m creeped out, his voice has lowered. I sit back on my heels on the couch.

“Um, well, not …”

“He and I have been over this.” he takes a step closer, leaving utensils on the counter. “We’ve agreed -” another step. “- That I’m not too young -” another step. “- for him by any means -” another step, he’s at the couch now, I’m leaning back to get away. “- because we’re both adults -” he leans in, annoyance and anger evident on his face. “- and I fucking love him.” he’s finished, I assume, because he shuts his mouth and glares hard; his glasses begin to slip down his nose, we’re pretty close and I curse myself for being the tiniest bit turned on.

“I love you too, but you don’t see me traumatizing your younger siblings.” Brandon says groggily, walking into the room, scratching his neck. He yawns and surveys us as I give him a pleading, scared look. He chuckles, but I drop my look when I notice the deep red marks on his bare chest and wrists and even his NECK that look highly suspicious and make me blush. Jeff whips around, grinning ecstatically.

“Brandy!!” he cheers and bounces in a fawn-like way up to him, tangling fingers (with sharp nails, I realize with a shudder) in his hair before kissing him. Brandon smiles and curls an arm around his neck, and I blush and look away on instinct, but it doesn’t take an hour this time.

“Ohmigod, are you making breakfast?” Brandon’s eyes shift around ecstatically, all traces of sleep gone. His gaze falls on the soon-to-be-burnt pancakes, eyes wide and shining. “OhmifuckingGOD I love you.” and he leaps on Jeff, kissing him like he’s the last link to the world. Hm. I have a feeling both the Carnovale children are suckers for a pretty boy with food.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Sho waf are joo doing tohday?” I ask with a mouthful of pancake soaked in syrup, basking in complete heaven. Jeff and Brandon both look at me, and Brandon’s wrinkled his nose.

“Well we have to work.” he states, motioning to Jeff.

“What? It’s Saturday afternoon!” I tell him, though it’s obvious. Jeff looks at me after downing the dregs of his milk from a cheap purple plastic cup.

“Yeah, but we volunteered to take this shift. You’ll be alright along for a while, right?” he asks.

I pout again. “I’m sixteen for fuck‘s sake.”

“Oh yes, right. I was sure you were a thirteen year old girl.” Brandon stands and gathers his plate and glass, clinking them into the sink.

“I am NOT a thirteen year old girl!” I say childishly, un-proving my own point.

“Oops, my mistake, all sixteen year old boys wear tank tops, eyeliner and girls panties.” Brandon laughs.

“I don’t fucking wear girl’s panties!” which is a total lie, because I’m still wearing them.

“Keith, we saw them yesterday.” Jeff grins and puts his dishes in the sink.

I turn a thousand shades of red. My brother (and his boyfriend!) know I’m wearing pink strappy panties. I finish the last of my pancakes and walk hastily to the counter.

“Um, am I allowed ask why?” Jeff ventures, trying not to giggle. I look at him over my shoulder.

“… Coy made me.” I mutter, still blushing. Jeff bursts into laughing.

“Hot.”

I rub at my cheeks. This is embarrassing, and Brandon can hear all this! This is my brother!

“That’s … gross, Keith.” Brandon says with a little smile. I can tell he’s going to say something else, but Jeff grabs his hand and starts tugging him from the kitchen.

“C’mon, I think it’s cute … anyways, we’ve gotta go soon, lets get dressed.” he giggles and walks backwards, holding my passive brother.

They emerge from he bedroom a few minutes later. Jeff looks strangely happy and Brandon’s walking funny; I decide that I really don’t want to know. They don’t stay for long, because Brandon keeps chirping ‘We’re late! We’re late!’. Brandon says goodbye and tells me not to light anything on fire, Jeff blows me a kiss and tells me to help myself to anything in the fridge.

And I’m alone. They’re gone for most of the day, but at about five, there’s a knock at the door. I figure they forgot their keys or something, so I fix my hair and stride across the apartment and unlatch the chain. It’s not Jeff, or Brandon.

It’s Coy.

I breath his name and leap on him, knocking him back a step into the hallway. I kiss him hard, feeling oddly deprived. It’s warm and wet and leaves me completely boneless, I tangle my hands in his damp hair and inhale the almost acidic scent of fresh hair dye. His tongue tastes like breakfast syrup, his hands wander along my ribcage. We pull back, and I quickly come to my senses and fist my hands in his sleeves, walking backwards and forcing him to stumble forwards into Jeff’s apartment. I let go of him momentarily to shut the door, lock it, and put the chain back on.

xxx Coy’s POV xxx

Better apartment than I’d expected. When Keith told me that he was at his brother’s boyfriends house, I assumed that it’d be slummy, but this isn’t too bad. After inspecting most of it, I turn to see Keith standing near the door with his hands clasped in front of him, looking as nervous as ever. I smile gently and brush his hair away from his face, causing him to blush a bit and smile.

“Are you glad I came?” I ask him. He swivels around me and sits down on the couch. Well, no, not sits. Stretches. I take off my coat and leave it on the floor after kicking my boots off, then I lift his feet so I can sit down. I let them rest on my lap once I’m sitting.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he laughs, and I smile again in return. I put my hand on the back of his ankle and lift his foot before pulling his sock off. “You’re my boyfriend aren’t you? No duh I’m going to be happy when --- fuck that’s nice …” he loses his train of thought when I start massaging his foot.

I think about what he said yesterday, the fetish thing, and I scowl when I find myself staring at his foot. It’s really small, with the same purple nail polish painted on his toes. I hold it in two hands, rubbing my thumbs over and back across the sole. “Yes, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m happy I’m here too … the Art Knapps thing took less time than I’d thought.”

“How’d you get Jeff’s address?”

“Well, he was J Albertson, so I looked it up in the book. An old guy out front let me in.”

“Ah, I see. Clever. You know, I like romantic stuff like this, you coming to see and stuff.”

I brush my thumb over a tiny laceration on the bottom of his foot, and I tilt to look at it. “What’s this?”

He opens an eye that he’d apparently shut. “That? Nothing, I stepped on a vodka bottle.”

Vodka? That can’t be right … “Your … mom’s?” I try, depressed at how little I know about his family. I stop moving my thumbs over his foot.

Both his eyes are open now, and looking at me. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” he flicks his wrist at his foot. “Keep rubbing.”

I grumble “You’ll have to tell me eventually.” but he’s not listening. I begin massaging his foot again, and we sit in silence. After a few minutes, I’m staring at his foot, watching the bones move as he flexes it. I contemplate for only a split second before I ease his foot up and give a long lick along the arch, I keep my eyes open and gauge his reaction; he’s sitting up and watching me with curious eyes, and he’s blushing. I do it again, swirling my tongue under his toes. His eyebrows raise and I see his fists curl in the couch. When I suck his big toe, he groans and just like that, I think I’m getting hard. I don’t want to wait for a further reaction, I just nudge my tongue between his toes and down the heel … I don’t know why this is getting me so fucking riled up, but it is.

“Why do you like feet so much …?” he asks, and his voice cracks a little.

I plant wet kisses across the top of his foot. “I’m not sure …” I answer truthfully, sliding up his pant leg and kissing him there too. “… but yours are nice.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Dork …”

I let his foot rest back down and I crawl over him. My hair’s still damp and it falls around his face when I lean over him, tickling his cheeks. “You like it too.” I state simply, noting he has a hard on. He blushes, which I find cute and I always will.

“Well, I just … it’s not feet … your tongue anywhere on me does … that.” he says nervously, and I find it extremely flattering. It also gives me an idea.

“… Anywhere?” I smirk down at him and shift a little on the couch that’s too small for both of us, so one of my knees slumps against the carpet. He doesn’t respond at first, and his eyes are wide, so I wonder if he gets what I’m saying.

“Uhm …” he hesitates and clears his throat. “… Do you mean …?” he makes a few flippy hand gestures because he doesn’t want to say it. I can’t help but smile like the pervert I am, I rest my forearms on the arm of the couch behind him and start kissing his cheek, then down his neck.

“Mmhhm… can I suck you off …?” I mumble, nuzzling under his ear, listening to him make a little whimpery noise as he tilts his head back onto the armrest.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” he says really quietly, voice laced in disbelief. It’s hilarious in an odd, hot sort of way. I nip at his neck, and to my surprise, he says something else. “Don’t you think that’s a little … demeaning? I mean, for you? I just …” he trails off, so I sigh softly.

“Do you want me to?” I ask, pulling the collar of his shirt down so I can kiss lower. He waits before responding, running his fingers gently up my arms, shaking slightly.

“Do you want to?” he retorts, and I’m almost annoyed at his indecisiveness. He couldn’t just tell me what he wants me to do, no, that would be too simple. My palm brushes the inside of his thigh and I press my lips to his ear.

“Yeah, I do.” and I feel a shiver jolt through him, right under my fingertips. I give him time to think, so I kiss his lips long and hard, grip tightening on his leg. He kisses me back and pets my hair like you would to a cat, ad I can’t help but smile again. I pull away and watch him; after a second he opens his eyes, blinks several times and wrinkles his nose.

“You taste like feet.” he complains. I laugh despite myself, but take that as a yes because it’s good natured, making a comment about feet doesn’t fall into the negative category. I place tiny kisses down his arm all the way to the inside of his wrist, which I swipe with my tongue. I glance up at him through my fringe and watch him watch me. He’s clearly amused, eyebrows raised, one corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, and his free arm splayed over the arm of the couch. His legs are a little spread, and my chest is resting against his drawn up knee. I frown when I notice his cute little blush has faded. Well, that won’t do, he’s cutest when he’s flustered.

I kiss his knee just because it’s right there, then I travel down his leg to his foot, which I spend an unnecessary time kissing and sucking anything I can get at. Checking again, his blush is still barely there, but he’s still too collected. I guess feet aren’t his thing, he’s said that. I hold his pant legs and slide backwards off the couch, knees hitting the woolly carpet, and his legs swing with me until he’s sitting like a normal person would on a couch.

I’m sitting back on my heels in front of him, watching again. He’s a little more flustered now, and he looks a little apprehensive. I nose up the inside of his leg and stick my tongue out when I’m at mid-thigh, leaving a damp streak that he grimaces at.

“Don’t get these spitty,” he tells me. “I might not be able to go home for a while, so I’m stuck with these.”

I stop abruptly and sit back, a bit alarmed. “What do you mean you can’t go home?” he looks down at me, smirk from earlier gone. He can’t go home? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! I passed his house when I drove here (yes, I drove, I thought I was going to die doing it though) and his house looked fine, why the hell can’t he go home?!

He gives a displeased groan, far from the lusty kind I like him making. “I mean - nothing, forget I said anything, get them as wet as you want.” he tries and fails to pass it off.

“Wait, what? You can’t go home? Why the fuck not?! Are you -”

“COY.” he cuts me off my saying my name louder than I was talking. I blink at him and shut up. “I know you know that I haven’t told you a lot about my family … and there’s a reason … and I’m not telling you now, so … drop it.”

I’m predictably hurt, but the look on his face and the tone in his voice make me listen. I nod silently then glance down, wondering if talking about estranged family secrets can kill the mood. Apparently when you’re a horny teenager, the list of thing that can stop you from thinking about sex is very short, because he’s still hard.

“Um, do you -” I start to ask him something, but he beats me to it.

“Are you gonna keep going?” he asks me, smirk settled back on as if nothing happened. Maybe I’m overreacting. Again, I nod and sit forwards, trailing my hands up his thighs, showering more kisses. He giggles a bit, but goes dead silent when I nuzzle my nose against his cock through his jeans. Sitting back and scootching between his spread legs, I ease him off the couch for a moment so he squirms out of his jeans. I’m beaming like an idiot when his pants are around his ankles, because he’s still wearing the pink panties.

“How’re the panties working out?” I tease, looking up at his face with a lopsided grin. He’s obviously not amused, but I can’t stop grinning. His sharp pelvic bones are the only thing keeping them up, the frilly pink straps are sliding low as it is, and the back that his posture is slumped isn’t helping. I giggle.

“Get on with it.” he groans, settling back into the couch, and I manage to stop grinning.

“Now, now, that’s not very romantic, Kei.” I tease him again, and I can tell his patience is wearing thin. I rub my nose along his bare thigh, leaning closer, dragging my tongue down to his knee. When I rub my nose against his dick again, I hear his nails grind against the thick threaded material of the couch, and I like that. I nip at him through the silk of the panties, he yelps.

“Don’t friggin bite me! Ah - Stoppit!!” he tries to protest, but as usual, I have my ways of shutting him up. I grab the straps and pull the panties down, all the way down around his ankles along with his pants. Looking up into his face immediately, half out of embarrassment, half out of curiosity, I notice he’s blushing an unbelievable amount, staring at me in awe and shock.

I don’t say anything else, not sure what to say, not sure if there’s anything to say. I close my eyes for a second, butterflies beat furiously at my stomach, I feel sick and excited at the same time, and I wrap my fingers around his dick. Adorably virginal (pot calling the kettle black), his whole body jerks, and his nails make the same noise as before. I pump him once and feel him pulse in my grip. Curiosity wins the battle raging in my brain as it usually does, and I carefully lick the head of his cock; he slumps back into the couch as I suck softly, pulling more into my mouth, dragging my fist in a rhythm to match my lips.

I’m not going to lie, this scares the hell out of me. I keep my eyes shut, rubbing my tongue over and back, experimenting with how much I can fit into my mouth, pleasantly surprised at the result. A whimpering groan escapes his lips and I feel his hands on my shoulders, raw bitten nails scraping my neck; I hear him gasp something really quietly, something that sounds suspiciously like ‘suck me harder’, but I can’t really tell.

Considering how quick he was last time I did something like this (*snicker*), he doesn’t do too bad. His hands slowly curl into my hair as he makes all these delicious little noises, mouth open and panting, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his hips from moving, but can’t. I moan around his cock, vibrations shaking through his body, and he gasps loudly, I can barely keep from smiling. His hands grab at the back of my head and he pushes me down, my chin bumps against his balls, I gag, and he comes hard.

He screams my name (which is so hot) as he tangles his fingers in my hair, arching his back, curling into the couch. I try desperately not to choke again, and I’m not as scared as I thought I would be, at least not anymore. I let him fall from my lips and sit back on my heels again as if nothing had happened, swallowing his come and sucking traces of it from my lips, smiling like mad. He’s buried his face in his hands, still breathing hard. I just keep smiling at him.

After what might be no less than five minutes, he moves his hands away. His cheeks are flushed a bright red and that look of awe is back. I open my mouth to say something, but he leaps on me and I stumble back, landing on my ass, narrowly missing the TV. “Are you alright?” I ask with a giggle, he’s buried his face in my neck and wrapped his arms around mine, pinning me immobile.

“Oh my god.” he says, voice shaking a little. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you just did that.”

I laugh and rest my cheek on the top of his head, rubbing my hands over his back. “It’s not that big of a deal, it’s okay.”

He sits up at that, apparently not bothered by the fact that he’s still naked from the waist down, but I think he’ll be embarrassed when he notices he is. “Yes it is! It’s a huge deal!” he says as if he can’t understand how I don’t think it is. “That’s the nicest, hottest, most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.” he mumbles, snuggling back into my chest, humiliation setting in. “I liked it.”

“I can tell.” I laugh, and he pinches me. He pulls back, looking at me from a comfortable distance away. His eyes are wide as ever, shining brightly and lined with a small amount of smudged onyx eyeliner, contrasting gorgeously with the flush across his cheekbones.

“Why are you so good at that?” he asks, cocking his head ever so slightly to the left. I shrug and his arms move with my shoulders.

“I dunno.” I say simply, because it’s the truth. I’m beaming on the inside, because I apparently did that well, which is amazingly embarrassing but fantastic at the same time. I watch as his eyes do this thing … I can’t explain it really, but they narrow and darken a little.

“You haven’t … practiced, have you?” he accuses, and before I get to retort, he jumps to conclusions. “Damian?!” he assumes and breaks free of my arms, yanking his pants from his ankles. God, he’s such a drama queen, I didn’t even get a chance to explain.

I snag his wrist just before he can get away, and he falls in front of me, pressed to the front of the couch. “Calm down.” I tell him as I rub the inside of his wrist, feeling bones and veins beneath my touch. “No. Not Damian, not anyone.” I clarify, looking right at him so he gets it, because he apparently thinks this is a big deal. “I’ve never done that before, I swear.”

His look softens at what I hope is sincerity in my voice. “You swear?” he repeats.

I give him a pointed look before capturing his lips with mine and kissing him very slowly and carefully, hoping to show him I’m serious, but how much can you convey with a kiss? I’m surprised, to say the least, when he shoves me back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s worse than last time!” he says, scraping at his tongue with his nails. “God, how can you do that? That’s disgusting!”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about, and I burst into laughter. “It’s not that bad!”

“Yes it is! Now go steal Jeff’s toothpaste, for the love of god.” he laughs, pushing me backwards.

xxx Keith’s POV xxx

He does as I say and walks into Jeff’s bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a click. I settle back into the couch, still in awe with everything, but I let my eyes fall back on the tv, curling my legs up underneath me. My right foot is freezing, but I’m too lazy to figure out what Coy did with my sock, so I just sit on it. I flick through channels and listen to the sound of cars running outside when he comes back into the room, I smile at him, and he kisses me without breaking his stride. He pulls my face up so he doesn’t have to hunch over, and ends up basically lifting me off the couch. He tastes wonderfully minty and cold, and I hang limply in his arms until he decides he wants to stop kissing me.

He wraps his arms around me and rolls onto the couch, pulling me on top of him with a grin. “Izzat better?” he laughs, kissing my cheek. I kiss his in return, just under his eye, leaving a little wet mark.

“Wonderful.” I giggle, kissing along his jaw to his chin, then several on his lips. He rubs his fingers over my shoulder blades in random little patterns that I don’t understand for a moment, but then it hits me that he’s tracing my wings. “… Whatcha doing?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t respond right away, his fingertips move along the small black wings tattooed over my skin, almost always hidden by shirts as they are now. “Just thinking.” and he doesn’t stop, going over every line that I know he’s memorized, which surprises me. Even though he can’t see them now, he’s drawing them as if he’s seen them all his life, which isn’t true because I just got them last summer, and I haven’t been shirtless around him all that much, unless we were swimming or changing for gym.

“I love your wings.” he smiles. “You’re like an angel, you know?” and he giggles a little. I lean forwards and brace my forearms on the arm of the couch behind him, so incredibly content and happy that it’s fucking unbelievable. I go to kiss him, but he folds his arms around me and rolls over, so before I know it I’m underneath him. One of his knees slips off the couch again and he keeps his arms between me and the cushion, holding me tight. His hair falls around my face as he looks down at me, eyes a little heavy. “You’re beautiful.”

I think my lips tremble. I jerk my head towards his, trying desperately to kiss him, but he doesn’t let me and just buries his face in my chest, the crown of his head tucked under my chin. I stroke his hair anyways. “You’re such a snuggle-slut.” I say cheerily, and he’s awed me once again with such a few small words.

He buries his nose in my shirt, chewing the inch or so of fishnet. “Not my fault you always want to ravage me like sex is going out of style tomorrow.” his voice is slightly muffled, but I hear him laugh. I rub my fingers against his scalp, leaning my head back in silence. I can’t find a retort to that because I do like to ravage him (and I think I’m going to make snuggle-slut a permanent nickname), so I don’t say anything at all and just bask in contentment.

I nearly yelp as a loud noise startles me out of my daydreaming. There’s a loud scraping noise from the hallway that causes Coy to bolt into a sitting position, and I do the same. The metallic scraping continues like someone’s nails, and I grip Coy’s thigh with an odd sense of fear, having seen far too many horror movies to think of a rational excuse for the sound. With a loud bang, the door swings open and hits the wall behind it, I flinch again.

I assume it’s a rapist or muderer, but as usual, I’m wrong. Brandon stumbles into the apartment, attached for lack of a better word to Jeff, who drops their keys along with a plastic bag on the floor, leaving the door wide open. I sigh in embarrassment and lean into Coy’s shoulder as my brother and his boyfriend keep going at it right in the middle of the room, Jeff’s hands are tangled in Brandon’s hair, and Brandon’s just clinging to him as if trying not to fall over. One of them groans and their tongues make a wet noise that practically echos, and I watch in horror as blood drips down Brandon’s chin. Jeff’s teeth bite at his lip even further, and Brandon gives a whimpering moan.

“Um, hello?” Coy tries, thank god, to get them to stop it, and I bury my face in his sleeve. “.. hello? Hello?!!” he ends up almost shouting to catch their attention. Jeff pulls away only inches to look at the two of us, orange eyes heavy lidded and uncaring. I watch as Brandon’s eyes fall on us, and I take pleasure in his terrified expression, he sucks his blood from his lips and burrows into Jeff’s shoulder, not looking at us any longer.

“We got you a present.” he says simply, jerking his head in the direction of the door, and I realize he’s talking about the bag on the floor. His voice isn’t as bubbly as it was before, and I start to realize he gets frightening when he’s horny, and I have a feeling Brandon’ll be bleeding from more than just a cut lip. “Don’t bother us for an hour or so.” is all he says before he pulls Brandon to the bedroom, and neither of them give us a second look.

Their door slams shut with the telltale click of a lock. After a moment, I feel Coy’s fingers brush my neck, turning me to look at him. I’m blushing like mad, never more embarrassed to have a horn-dog older brother. “I’m sorryyy about them.” I tell him, rubbing the back of his knuckles against my burning cheek; his skin looks nearly white from so near. “They can get so weird sometimes, I didn’t think they’d be like this, Jeff’s really -”

“Calm down, Kei.” he says gently, turning his hand over in my grip to brush his fingers just above my eye. “It’s not a big deal, I understand. They just love each other … in a completely inappropriate way.” he pauses with a small snort. “You’d never make me bleed, right?”

I grin, humiliation slowly ebbing away, and I’m amazed at how happy he can get me so quickly. “Only if you wanted me to.” I say truthfully.

“I’ll consider it, that’s sorta hot.” he laughs. “And so is your brother.”

My eyes go wide and I shove him backwards. “He is NOT! Don’t touch me!!” but I can’t help but laugh too. He stands up, holding my hands against his chest and pulls me into a soft kiss, no blood anywhere. When we stop, he cranes his head to look behind him.

“Should we see what they got us?”

I release him and walk towards the front door, leaving it open while scooping the cheap shoppers drug mart bag off the tile. Coy follows and stands next to me as I turn the bag upside down into my palm, a receipt falling out first. “They better not have gotten us drugs or cigarettes or something …” I say warily, but my fears are banished when something pink falls into my waiting hand. I drop the bag at our feet and turn the object over in my hand; it’s a small pink plastic tube with white writing since I’m looking at the wrong side. Coy leans on my back, peering around my shoulder as I flip it over, blushing deep red only seconds later.

There’s a strawberry on it, next to the letters ‘KY’, and below that, written small enough not to embarrass the purchaser, are the words personal lubricant. Oh my god. My brother and his boyfriend have bought me and my boyfriend anal lube. I’m blushing so hard I think my hair is on fire, just staring at it, feeling sick and amused and cursing both of them all at once. Oh good lord, it tastes like strawberries and it warms on contact. Coy coughs from behind me.

“Alright, so your older brother and so effeminate weirdo just bought us anal lube.” he states simply, bluntness not making this any easier.

“Don’t say that!” I yelp, turning to look at him while holding the tiny tube in my fist, concealing it from sight.

“Say what? Anal?” he grins in a teasing tone. I grab his arms and shake him.

“YES, don’t say that!”

“Why not?” he feigns innocence. “Why, what about that word could possibly make you uncomfortable? Anal sex? Is that it?”

“STOPPIT!” I screech, starting to laugh as I shake him again, grinding my head halfheartedly into his chest.

“Hm? I don’t understand, dear boyfriend of mine. Why on earth would the thought of anal sex make you upset? Could it possibly be … the thought of having anal sex? Perhaps, even with …” he leans right in, only inches from my face with an enormous teeth-bearing grin; I can see his lip ring glint. “…me?”

I punch him in the stomach in my own scrawny-midget sort of way, and it doesn’t hurt him too bad. He coughs once, roaring with laughter, nearly doubling over, and I huff and throw the lube at his head. He straightens up, but not before picking it off the floor. “You are such a puppydog, I swear.” he giggles, rubbing the back of my neck affectionately.

I pout and glare with a huff, opening my mouth to say something snarky in return, but I’m cut off when a loud scream rips through the apartment. It takes me a second to realize it came from Jeff’s bedroom, but when I do, I grab my hoodie off the back of the couch and tug Coy out the door, not quite quick enough to avoid hearing a feral moan that shakes into the hallway. I nearly shut Coy’s hand in the door when he snatches his coat and boots off the floor.

“Wow.” he pulls on his coat and stares at the closed door. “I’d hate to live near them.” and I SO agree, because I hear a series of really loud pants and moans. I nod, trying to keep my over-imaginative brain from thinking too much about what they’re doing right now because it‘s frightening, but more so because I’m afraid I’ll like it. I keep quiet for a moment as Coy laces his boots. I watch him kneel down, I watch the way his shoulder blades shift and pull at his shirt. He finishes and turns around, raising a hand to tug strands of poppy-red hair behind his ear. He stands up and looks down at me, chewing his lip ring thoughtfully. I can’t help but notice how much shorter I still am than him and I hope I grow soon, because I feel bad for him having to crunch his spine just to kiss me.

Neither of us say anything for a couple long seconds until he cracks out in a smile. “D’you wanna go to my place? I think Sasha has some friends over that we can freak out.”

xxx Coy’s POV xxx

He nods happily and we walk together down the musty hallway that still smells like the elderly, in fact, there’s a middle aged woman coming out of an apartment in front of us. She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top that shows far too much of her, and she looks us over as we near, giving a disapproving grimace, obviously calling us faggots in her head.

I nearly sigh, but just hang my head and watch stains on the carpet pass under my feet. I feel Keith’s shoulder bump my arm and his fingers slide into mine, squeezing briefly as we walk by the woman in the sweatpants.

“Fags …” she mutters predictably under her breath, and I just let it go.

“Bitch!!” Keith’s hand abruptly crushes mine and he whirls around, forcing me to turn too. “What the fuck gives you the right to say that?!” he snarls at her, she rolls he eyes and takes a letter out of her pocket and starts striding down the hall, utterly ignoring him. “Fuck you!” Keith just keeps swearing at her, straining at my grip as she slips the note under a door down the hall and comes right back towards us. “You think you’re fucking better than us because we’re queer? What the fuck gives you the rii - mprh -” I cut him off before he punches the bitch the only way I know how, by kissing him.

He doesn’t get mad, he hooks his forearm around my neck, pulling me viciously towards him, walking back so I’m inadvertently pressing him to the wall, and he kisses me back with tongue and teeth, widening his stance so I end up standing between his legs. He sucks my tongue and curls his leg around my hip, stroking the back of my thigh with his toes, and I just hold him up and let him make an ass of himself. I hear him laugh against my mouth when neither of us miss an audiable snort of disgust followed by the slamming of a door.

Keith pulls away from my lips with a loud wet noise, wiping saliva from his chin, looking maliciously giddy. “That went well.” is all he chooses to say before holding my hand and prancing down the hallway. I sigh, emotions stretched drastically between embarrassed to be associated with him to incredibly horny, but I don’t voice either of those and just stay hand in hand in comfortable silence.


xxx

notes:
i’ve seen that lube for sale at 7-11.
art knapps is a plant store where i live. is it a chain?
blood is cool, so i've made brandon & jeff all masochisty.
sorry if there's any typos, i did my best.
jason, if you're reading this, SORRYLOL.
jeff albertson is comic book guys name from the simpsons.





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