Remember My Name (16 page)

“No problem, son.”

*     *     *    
*

“Today was actually kind of
fun. Dad has been pretty cool lately,” Ben says from beside me. The lights have
been off for a while, but he clearly hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

I roll over to face him.
“You’re just saying that because he gave you a beer, but Dad isn’t all sunshine
and rainbows.”

“It’s not that. I just… I
mean, it feels good to get to know him again.”

If I’d known Ben was so
easily bought, I would have set a cold one in front of him the moment he first
stepped through the door at the beginning of the summer. I know I should be
more gracious that Ben is finally warming up to being here, but I can’t stop
myself. “If you hadn’t left in the first place, you wouldn’t be needing to get
to know either of us again.”

“I didn’t exactly have a
choice,” he snaps. Jagged silence cuts between us and tension pours into the
air. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, I’m not really mad that Ben is
starting to rebuild his relationship with Dad. I’m mad that Dad treats him
better than me.

It feels like Ben is trying
to work up the courage to say something more, so I wait, but the only answer I
get is soft breathing.

Jackson

The door to our bedroom is
shut, but it still makes me feel a little uneasy doing this without a lock on
the door, even though Ben made it clear that he was going for a long run today.
With just Dad and me, I never really worried, because he never came knocking.
But Ben? He’s actually living in this room with me – at least until his
room gets painted – so there’s a better chance of… I push the thought out
of my mind. There are other things I want to think about.

Leaning back on my bed, I
reach underneath the mattress and pull out a magazine. It’s definitely not the
most original spot to hide a porn magazine, but it hasn’t been discovered yet,
so there’s that. Flipping through the pages, I adjust the position of my
restless hips. I don’t need some smutty magazine to get off, but the thing with
Matt… it’s my first time with a guy, and I want to make sure that it’s not just
him. I feel stupid for thinking that could even be a possibility, because it’s
obvious that I’m into guys. But I’ve never had a gay experience before, at
least not before Matt. I’ve barely even seen other guys in the locker room.
Quick glances, but nothing more. It was high school after all, so I had to be
careful.

So about the magazine… I
guess I wanted to see how my body reacts to this kind of thing. Do guys in
pictures do the same thing for me that being around Matt does? I flip to the
next page, my eyes devouring the photos. Wow. I didn’t even know guys did this
stuff with each other. And
to
each other. I also can’t erase the giddy
smile from my face.

Easing open the zipper on my
jeans, I work them downward toward my knees. Wrapping a hand around my dick, I
start to give myself some attention. When I was younger, I tried to jerk off to
straight porn a few times but it was nothing like this. The boobs were always
such a turn off.

My hand continues eagerly,
sending sunny waves through me. This is so much different than the straight
stuff, which always made it such a struggle to finish. In contrast, this is…
this is fucking fantastic. If I’m not careful, I’m going to get off in the next
minute or so.

The voice is so unexpected
that it takes me a moment to even stop what I’m doing. “Hey Jackson, do
you–” Ben stops dead, his hand on the doorknob and looking like the scene
has slapped him in the face. He’s riveted in place, his eyes flicking downward
for only a fraction of a second before settling on the magazine.

Like my hand on my dick, his
face is frozen, covered with an expression you’d expect from someone watching a
plane crash.

With the blankets and sheet
in a pile on the floor, I throw the magazine over my crotch to cover myself and
lash out with my newly found voice. “Jesus, fuck, Ben, get out!”

Slamming the door behind
him, his steps thunder in the hallway and down the stairs. No fucking way. Just
absolutely not.

Jackson

I could sprint to town and
back, and my chest wouldn’t be this tight. And my nose wouldn’t burn like it
does now. As if that weren’t enough, a sadistic heat fans out across my stomach,
rising up to my face. “Fuck!” I shout again, throwing the magazine as hard as I
can. It slaps the wall next to the window and thuds to the floor, pages
splayed. “Fuck!” My breaths are coming fast. Goddamn it, why did he come back
so soon? I would have jerked off in the fucking shower if he hadn’t made it
clear he was going for a long run. It’s been weeks since I’ve beat off to
anything but the smell of shampoo and the drone of running water. I wanted a
break, so I waited until Ben was going to clear out for a while.

My erection has long since
collapsed onto my stomach, so I barely have to adjust when I pull my underwear
and pants back up. What the hell am I going to do now? A spasm of fear strikes
me in the chest.
What if he tells Dad?

I tug a clean shirt over my
head. I’m going to have to talk to him. This isn’t a conversation I wanted to
have today, but it’s as good a time for it as any, I guess. Taking a deep
breath, I venture a look in the mirror. I’m still in one piece – that’s
something to be thankful for at least. Not that Ben would ever have taken a pot
shot at me for getting off to gay porn, but I’ve never actually
told
anyone before, Matt excluded. I wasn’t really sure what would happen to me when
the first person found out. Somehow I thought a piece of me might crack under
the pressure, but hey, I’m still here. Not to say that Ben busting in on me
counted as
telling
him, but he sure as shit knew what was going on.

Ben isn’t in the hallway
when I leave my room. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I scan the kitchen and living
room, but it’s just Dad watching TV. “Have you seen Ben?”

Dad mutes the show. “He ran
out the door just a minute ago. Did you guys have an argument? I heard
shouting.”

“No argument. I just stubbed
my toe.” I meet his gaze so he doesn’t think I’m lying. “I’m going for a walk,
I’ll see you later.”

Dad nods and the noise from
the TV resumes as I kneel to put on my shoes. “That fucker keeps stealing my
running shoes,” I mutter and slip on his white and green Nikes. See what he
thinks about that.

It takes a good ten minutes
to find him, but eventually I do. He’s sitting in the grass, leaning up against
the back of the garage with his arms propped up on his knees. That’s Ben all
right, never sure how to handle things. He wrestles with a problem in his own
little world until he realizes he can’t solve it by himself. That’s when he
looks to me. At least that’s how it used to work.

“Hey,” I say. He glances up,
holding my eyes in his own – within them are clouds of emotion so thick
that I can’t even begin to decipher what’s going on inside him. I sit down,
leaving some space between us. He was bound to find out sooner or later, so why
am I so afraid?

The wind picks up, forcing
the grass in our lawn to bend under the onslaught. My position mirrors Ben’s,
except my arms are crossed. I wait for him to speak. Ben needs his time.

Still staring off into the
woods at the edge of the yard, he puts together his words one at a time. “You
like… guys?”

The answer is heavy in my
throat. “Yeah.”

A long sigh takes place next
to me. You’d think someone had died. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to
find you whacking it to gay porn? You know how shitty it makes me feel to find
out like that?”

He doesn’t have any right to
be mad at
me
about this, especially considering the way he left eight
years ago. “Don’t you dare get self-righteous with me. I didn’t tell you
because we haven’t been close in
years.
”

Ben shakes his head, biting
his lip. “Are you and Matt hooking up or something?”

I look away, releasing an
anxious breath.

“Jesus, Jackson. With Matt?
Seriously?”

His accusing eyes bore into
the side of my face, cutting scorching streaks across my cheek as I turn to him
and shrug.

“
Seriously,
Jackson
?
”

“I know you don’t really
like him,” I concede.

“He’s a first class
douchebag,” he scoffs. “I cannot believe you not only never told me, but that
you’re messing around with such a–”

“Shut up!” I shout, my rage
burning. “It’s so typical of you to make this all about yourself.”

Ben flicks his eyes up to
mine but remains quiet. He’s processing. Maybe it’s more about him than I
think? “And besides,” I venture, “I figured you had a similar experience.”

His voice is taut with
suspicion. “What do you mean, ‘similar experience’?”

Shrugging, I answer him
honestly. “Same genes, little brother. I always guessed you might be the same
way. Are you?”

“I’m not fucking gay,” he
snaps.

Staring off into the wheat
fields that stretch away from our property, I fight to bury the searing heat in
the back of my throat. Of all the people in the world, Ben was the one supposed
to take it the best. Even the years apart couldn’t change
everything
between us. At least that’s what I thought.

“So what is Matt to you,
really? You guys just get frisky whenever you need to get your rocks off, or
are you actually a thing?” he asks, his voice probing.

“None of your goddamn
business, that’s what.” From the corner of my eye I see him flinch at the
harshness in my words. I release a grunt of frustration. “Look, you can think
what you want, but–” My voice catches in my throat. “Just don’t tell
anyone, especially not Dad, okay?”

“Whatever.” The muscles in
his face are working overtime, as if that will help him figure this all out.

I can tell from his tone
that he’s really upset, almost about to shut down completely. He has already
passed the point of no return, closing himself off to everything. He won’t talk
about this with me anymore, at least not right now. Standing up, he walks away
from me. I know better than to follow. He wants me to, but until he sorts out his
emotions, he’s like a cornered animal. If I force the conversation, we’ll just
end up laying into each other and saying things we regret, so the conversation
has to be over.

I wish it weren’t, though. I
wish he would tell me that it’s cool whether I like dudes or old ladies or
golden retrievers. But he didn’t, and he won’t. Ben always seems to need me for
everything, but he can’t step outside of his own head for two seconds when I
really need him for something. When he showed up here this summer, I was hopeful
that maybe we could start over again. It didn’t matter that he didn’t choose to
come here.

But he’s clearly content to
be miserable. He probably doesn’t even care how much we’ve grown apart. Well,
fuck him. I don’t need anyone. My fingers wrap around a clump of grass like a
boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of it. I need to get out of here. I
pull out my phone and text Matt.

Hey what are you up to?

Nothing, you?

Same old, fighting with
Ben.

Sorry man.

My fingers hover over the
screen, hesitant. Oh, what the hell. I tap out the message.
Can I come over?

I toss the phone into the
grass beside me and let my head fall back against the garage, remembering my
last real conversation with him. It was clear that he was still willing to keep
doing what we’re doing, whatever that is, as long as I figure my shit out. I
can’t believe Ben had the balls to ask if anything was going on between us, but
now that he knows, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.

My phone buzzes with Matt’s
reply.
Sure.

The ride over to his place
feels like it takes an hour, even though it’s only a few miles. When I arrive
to find the driveway empty, I feel a pang of guilt at the excited flutter in my
chest. I shouldn’t be looking forward to this as much as I am, but I can’t help
it. Ben interrupted me trying to release my pent-up energy earlier, and if
anything it’s even worse now than before.

I’m barely in the door when
his hands slide around my biceps, pushing me up against the wall and locking
down my lips with his. Damn he tastes good. His lips are soft, surrounded by
just a shadow of roughness. Just like last time, I can’t get enough, so when
his tongue nips into my mouth, I eagerly push back with my own. His hands rise
to my neck, his thumbs pressing against my jaw as his mouth goes after mine.

My shorts feel tight against
me when he finally pulls away. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” He says it like
it’s been years. “Took you long enough to finally text.”

“Me too,” I breathe. “Been
waiting, that is.” Letting my hands grip his waist, I add, “Let’s go upstairs.”

“You sure you’re not going
to bolt out of here or anything?” His eyes flash darkly.

Forcing away my hesitation,
I nod. That must be good enough for him, because he pulls away from my grip and
gestures for me to go first.

“I like your shoes,” he says
with a pointed look at my feet.

I remember I’m still wearing
Ben’s white and green Nike’s. “Thanks,” I say, brushing the thought of Ben out
of my mind.

Self-consciously covering
the bulging section in the front of my shorts, I lead the way upstairs as every
square inch of my skin burns with desire.

I’ve barely shoved the
covers on his bed out of the way when Matt is on me again, more voracious this
time. Maneuvering me so I’m lying on my back, he picks up where we left off at
the door, melting into me with his mouth, with his hands, with a steady rhythm
in his hips. Damn it if my hands aren’t all over him too, pulling up his shirt
as he takes off mine.

The warning voice inside
that held me in check when we were here a year ago is quieter now. Still
present, but more subdued and easier to ignore. I want this. I
really
want this.

Matt lowers himself from
outstretched arms down to his elbows, shrinking the space between us until our
chests touch. His stomach is soft against mine, and his dick is hard through
his shorts, nestling alongside mine likewise concealed – for the moment
at least.

I groan as he traces a line
downward with his tongue, pausing at my left nipple and zigzagging across to the
other before continuing lower. His breath on my stomach causes me to suck in,
but I relax into it after a moment. Matt’s hands wander along the sides of my
chest, gently kneading the muscles that wrap around into my back. I squirm as
his tongue darts into my navel, leaving a trail of moisture that brings with it
a touch of coolness as he exhales.

By the time he reaches the
waistband of my briefs, I can hardly stand it anymore. I’m convinced I’m going
to tear the fabric of my underwear if he keeps going like this. Sneaking a
finger under the elastic, he tugs them down, freeing me in a way that should
make me self-conscious as hell. But it doesn’t.

“Damn,” he says, just
looking at me. “It’s hot that you’re uncut. And kind of big.”

I might be feeling some warmth
at the compliment, but I can’t feel a damn thing over the heat gripping me from
my core. “Thanks,” I murmur, not wanting to distract him. Is he really going to
do this? Do I really
want
this? The pesky voice inside says no. But
every other part of me is saying something else.

His tongue continues,
breaking like waves against my skin as he moves to the side, bypassing the
place where I really want him to go. The light stubble on his cheeks rasps
against the side of my dick, sending even more powerful ripples of desire
through me.

“You’re teasing me,” I say,
trying to keep my voice light.

Matt’s gaze rises to my
face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yeah,” I growl. “
Hell
yeah.”

His eyes soft and fixed on
mine, I feel his hot breath a half-second before he takes me in his mouth.
“Damn,” I whisper as he looks up. Those eyes, all for me. Tipping my hips up to
let him take me deeper, I groan, each of my hands squeezing a fistful of the
sheet.

His head bobs up and down as
his hands work in tandem with his mouth. “Fuck, that feels so good.” He doesn’t
respond, but his mouth is full, so I don’t hold it against him.

My breathing comes in
clipped bursts as he continues. Releasing my grip on the sheets to run my
fingers through his hair, I have to make a conscious effort to prevent all my
muscles from tensing. I don’t want to hold back.

“Oh God,” I breathe. His
eyes are on me again, and in them I can see his awareness of what’s about to
happen, but he doesn’t stop. Closing my eyes, I tighten my grip in his hair. It
seems like an eternity between the moment I lose control and when I actually
come. He slows as I do, and I can see him swallow several times. Watching him
do it gives me a pleasant satisfaction, but I’m not sure why.

When he finally looks up, I
feel an urge to turn away, exposed as I am. But I know he gave me the chance to
stop it before it went this far. The truth is, I didn’t want it to stop, and I
don’t regret it now.