Twin Ties 1: My Brother's Lover (28 page)

Brennan argued, “He wasn’t even four inches! I barely felt it.”

Luka masked his expression and asked seriously, “How do you know
I’m
not four inches? You could’ve just horribly insulted me.”

“You aren’t four inches,” Brennan scoffed, shoving Luka’s shoulder lightly.

“How do you know?”

“By calculating the angle your pants get tented at? By paying attention when you were grinding your meat against my hip? You’re more than four inches. And, you know, you could always just whip it out and show me.”

“Later,” Luka replied, waving a hand to dismiss the suggestion. “There’s stuff I’m still curious about. Like what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Well, since I was pretty good at taking care of Mom through all the chemo and then in hospice, I thought that maybe I’d be a nurse?” He said it shyly, without looking up to see Luka’s reaction, like he was nervous about him laughing at the idea. Of course, this meant Luka
had
to tease him about it.

“Aw, no way. I’m sorry, Brennan,” Luka frowned, intentionally sounding like he hated to be the bearer of bad news. “You absolutely can
not
be a nurse.”

Instantly hurt, Brennan asked softly, “Why?”

“Are you kidding? Because you’d be the hottest nurse
ever
and all of the doctors would instantly fall in lust with you and try to seduce you. You have to have heard about all the whoring around that goes on in the medical profession! You in scrubs would be like waving a juicy steak in front of hungry lions.”

Brennan chuckled.

“Not to mention all the horny old gays you’d have to nurse who’d be grabbin’ at yer tushie every time you walked by.”

Brennan laughed even harder. “I really don’t think they’d do that.”

“Why not?
I
would.”

“Are you a horny old gay?”

“Not yet,” Luka said smugly. “That’s what
I
want to be when I grow up.”

“Not a personal trainer?”

“Nope, that’s temporary. It’s horny old gay for me. That’s my supreme goal.”

“I think you have that one in the bag, you big dork.”

“Thank you!”

A few hours later, they were still laying in bed, talking and laughing. Evan and Alek had already gotten home, their footsteps clearly audible as they walked by, heading to Evan’s room. The crickets outside the house chirped loudly. The wind kicked up, buffeting the walls from the east, making the old wood groan. It was dark and quiet. Luka was tracing patterns on the back of Brennan’s forearm with his fingertip.

Luka knew why Brennan was looking at him the way he was, easily reading the beseeching, confused supplication in the depths of his eyes.

Luka said softly, “What’s the rush, anyway?”

Brennan glanced away, looking like he felt rejected. “I just wanna make you happy.”

“You don’t have to put out to make me happy.”

“But it helps, right? I mean, that’s why guys ask me out. They don’t wanna be my soul mate, they just want in my pants. It’s fine. Sometimes that’s all I want, too. And that’s why I thought you asked me out. That’s what I was expecting, anyway. You don’t seem interested.”

“Bren, you’ve got way more to offer than your body. Don’t you know that?”

Brennan shrugged. “If you don’t want to, you can just be honest and say so, you know.”

“Did you just hear what I said? Am I talking to myself? Or are you just fishing for compliments again?”

Smirking, Brennan nudged him. Hurt lurked behind his eyes.

“Okay,” Luka sighed, “C’mere for a minute, my sweet little Cupcake.”

“I thought I told you never to call me that,” Brennan complained, heeding Luka’s request anyway.

Luka pulled him into his arms, spooning up behind him and curling his larger body around Brennan’s, their legs entwined, Brennan’s head pillowed on Luka’s bicep.

“Lemme cuddle you for a minute or five and then it’s on.”

“Promise?”

“No doubt.”

“Okay.”

Half-a-minute later, Brennan was snoring softly. Glad the strategy worked, Luka kissed Brennan’s temple and drifted off moments later.

Luka didn’t typically wake early, especially on weekends, so when Brennan got out of bed soon after the sun began to shine through the room’s single window, Luka was at first lulled back under the heavy weight of sleep tugging demandingly at his consciousness. He opened his eyes sometime later to feel the gentle caress of a morning breeze sliding over his cheek. The window had been opened wide. The thin curtain blew, dancing with the currents. Brennan was sitting on his heels by his altar, eyes shut, utterly relaxed and focused, his hands curled and resting on his knees. For a while, Luka simply stared at him, nothing but thankful Brennan seemed so peaceful and untroubled, not a sign or stain of tears on his delicate skin. His silver-framed glasses were perched on his nose, the lenses catching and reflecting shards of golden sunbeams.

Luka slipped back into dreamless sleep. When next he woke, Brennan was no longer meditating. He was no longer dressed either. It was fairly bright and comfortably warm in the bedroom. The morning light was rosy and soft on the contours of Brennan’s skin, the contrast of deep shadows and golden highlights on his unmoving, perfectly balanced form made him seem not human at all but a living carving, a masterpiece of sculpture that should be studied and admired for the pure beauty in it. Actually afraid of disturbing him, Luka stayed as silent as he could, barely daring to breathe from his place in Brennan’s bed. He watched for nearly an hour as Brennan bent and twisted like a pretzel, balancing impossibly, demonstrating keenly exactly how flexible he was.

At one point, Brennan was laying flat on his back on a purple yoga mat with his arms at his sides. Arching the middle of his body up off the ground from the tips of his toes all the way to his shoulder blades, he fit his hands against his lower back to maintain the stretch, his upper arms braced on the ground and arms bent sharply at the elbow.

That was the first pose, held for a length of time before continuing into another, lifting only his left leg upward until it made a perfectly perpendicular line to the floor with his body still dramatically arched. He paused, then shifted, pushing with his right foot off of the ground. His feet sliced through the air in a slow arc until the toes of his flexed left foot were touching the floor above his head; his right leg was pointed in a straight line that stretched in a ninety degree angle up to the ceiling. Most of his body, from his shoulder blades to the tips of his toes, was aligned at that perpendicular angle, braced only by his upper arms, his hands still braced against his lower back. From there, both legs came down to the floor above Brennan’s head, curling his body in on itself, bending it in half. His legs spread as wide as they could go, toes touching the floor, held in place by straightened arms grasping the balls of his feet, his backside pointed up in the air.

Brennan took a break after that, laying flat once more, but then bowed his back in a beautiful curved line with the endpoints of the arc being the base of his spine and the top of his head. His neck arched back as well and his arms entwined, clasped over his chest, his toes pointed.

Entranced, Luka watched Brennan arch up into the same pose as before, pushing his behind up off the floor, staying up only with the tips of his toes and his shoulder blades. But this time he kept bending more and more upward at the middle, getting his feet flat on the ground. The top of his head and his flattened hands, splayed by the sides of his head, held the pose as he formed a sort of human table with his body from his knees to the bottom of his ribcage essentially being the tabletop. His buttocks clenched and arms strained. Then he got up onto the balls of his feet. Arching his spine, he pushed the curve of his body impossibly further until, with his hands clasped behind his head, he had his forearms braced on the floor. His chest and stomach were pulled tight, his leg muscles and buttocks clenched, his penis lying softly against his pelvis as he forced it up farther and farther into the air.

Luka was amazed as Brennan performed acrobatics with his lithe body that he’d never seen before. One moment Brennan was doing a handstand with his legs pointed out to the sides, nearly in a split in mid-air. The next moment he was folded cleanly in half with his face flush to his shins and hands clasped around the arches of his feet.

He was coiled like a cobra ready to strike. He was frozen in mid-lunge like a warrior who had just sliced through the air with his elongated, pointed arms as his swords.

By the time Brennan was done, and mopped some sweat from his face and chest with a towel, Luka was fully hard and aching for Brennan. His pulse raced; his breathing was roughened. He could hear, once in a while, someone moving around outside the room, possibly Alek, who was an early riser just like Brennan. But Luka tuned it out. All that existed for him was Brennan—not a child at all, but a young man with far too much worry and weight resting on his shoulders. He’d known loss, loneliness, trial, tragedy, temptation, so many things he should never have had to endure. It had granted him a maturity Luka not only admired but was intensely attracted to.

Finally, Brennan realized he was being watched. Taken aback by how awake Luka appeared, not sleepy at all, but alert and tensed, like he’d been enjoying Brennan’s show for a very long time and was now more than ready to do... what?

“Morning,” Brennan smiled. He glanced down at himself. “I guess you saw some of that. No more reason for me to be shy around you, then, I guess.” He chuckled to disguise his growing blush, gaze darting around for the nearest clump of discarded clothes.

“Come to bed,” Luka said. It was thick, low, and rough, like the words had been grated over stone. There was no joking in it, no lightness. Luka’s gaze was as sharp as if he was a hunter stalking his prey.

“Maybe a shower first, I’m kind of....” He gestured at the drips trickling down his chest.

“Sweaty? Yeah. I know. Lie down.”

Something sparked in Brennan’s eyes—realization maybe, or self-consciousness. He set his jaw and bowed his head as a blush spread over his skin. After begging for sex for days, now that it was actually time and Luka was ready to have sex with him, Brennan seemed uncharacteristically timid and unsure. It just stoked the fire of Luka’s need for him.

Brennan went to the bed and sat on the edge. “How do you want me?”

“Or your stomach. I’ll give you a massage to relax you.”

Brennan’s muscles were burning, sore in the best way from the exertion. He had been relaxed until deducing what was about to happen in that small bedroom with Alek and Evan somewhere very nearby. Tension spread across his shoulders, knotting muscles down his back, crawling up his neck.

He spread himself out on the middle of the bed. Luka made room for him, and stripped off his own shirt, leaving him wearing only a thin pair of boxer briefs.

“Spread your legs.”

Brennan parted his legs, each foot pointing to one post of the bed. Luka guided his arms back along his sides, rubbing down them from shoulder to wrist a few times like he was wringing out the nervous energy collecting in Brennan’s body.

Settling between Brennan’s legs, Luka drew up a knee, nudging gently at the junction of them, forcing Brennan even wider. Brennan looked back at him, his breath catching, quickening.

“I’m not in a rush here. Is it okay if I play with you for a little while? We can go slow?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Brennan rasped.

“I bought something. Wasn’t sure if we’d be using it anytime soon, but if you’re interested, I’ll get it. Especially since you liked hearing Evan take the plug.”

The heat in Brennan’s expression seemed to be all the answer Luka needed. Luka’s smile grew wicked, like he already knew he’d won.

Brennan asked, “What is it?”

“Well that’s the thing. You don’t get to see it; you only get to feel it. It’s a surprise.”

“...Okay.”

Luka went to his bag and dug through it, finding what he needed. He returned to the bed with something hidden behind his back and a black leather blindfold dangling from a hooked finger.

Lust-drunk with anticipation, though still nervous as ever, Brennan’s eyes slipped half-shut and when Luka leaned in to kiss him, Brennan hungrily kissed Luka back. His ribs expanded and contracted with every fevered breath. He lifted his head just enough for Luka to get the blindfold in place on him. Everything was blackened out by the mask, with only a soft glow at the edges from the radiant sunlight in the room.

Luka’s butter-smooth voice by Brennan’s left ear asked, “You hard yet?”

“Hell yeah,” Brennan grunted.

“Good.”

“You?”

Luka chuckled darkly. He took one of Brennan’s hands and guided it to his crotch. Brennan instantly took advantage of finally getting permission to touch and fondled Luka through the cotton. Luka was hugely erect and bigger in circumference than Brennan had imagined, as well as bigger than Brennan ever had before.

Thinking he had disguised his trepidation and shock well enough, Brennan soon discovered otherwise. Luka nipped playfully at the shell of his ear and began massaging his shoulders, rubbing in firm circular motions, kneading the muscle with his huge hands.