Date: Tue, 26 Apr 2005 00:51:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Eagleson <robineagleson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Oversleeping Part 3

I knew instantly upon waking up some time on Saturday afternoon that my day
would only be improving from that point.  Considering I barely made it to
the bathroom in time to throw up in an appropriate place, I figured that
was pretty much a foregone conclusion.  There are hangovers, and then there
are hangovers.  All the blame could be directed squarely at Evan; he was
the reason I drank so much last night.  As attracted to him as I now found
myself, I had felt certain my mind must be broken, and therefore fixing it
with alcohol had seemed the best option.  Instead all it had accomplished
was another semi-sexual incident and a promise to take him out tonight.  I
had a very fuzzy recollection of both of these memories that I had barely
been conscious for.

My dizziness temporarily relieved, I flushed the toilet and immediately
took another gulp of my mouth wash.  The remnants of vomit quickly
disappeared, and I felt almost decent, having gotten some more of last
night's poison out of my system.  I checked myself out in the mirror,
hoping I looked passable enough to casually make an appearance in the
living room.  My reflection wasn't looking his best this morning.  The
complexion was pale, the skin slightly clammy, and my hands shook when I
used them to lean on the counter.  This was going to be a great day.  I ran
my hand through my hair distractedly, trying to straighten it out while
rummaging through the cabinets to find some kind of headache medicine.
Settling with ibuprofen, I hungrily tossed three back and then chased them
down with a palm full of faucet water.  Rubbing my eyes vigorously to clear
them, I searched my face one final time for any telltale signs, sighed
heavily, and walked down the hall into the living room.

Naturally, Dad was right there on the couch, resting comfortably with our
dog Sonny on his lip, watching a Braves game on TV.  He spotted me out of
the corner of his eye.  "Morning," he greeted me with more than an edge of
sarcasm.  I glanced at the clock on the VCR and saw it was nearly three.  I
grunted and fell into the chair.  "Did you get home on time last night?" he
asked casually.  I couldn't tell if it was a trap or not.

"I was a little late," I admitted, trying to look as though I was guilty,
but not that guilty.  Now his eyes were directed right at me instead of at
the game.

"A little?  What time did you get home, Austin?"

"About a quarter after one," Evan answered for me, coming down the hallway
out of his bedroom, fully dressed and looking much more presentable than I
was.  As he entered, Dad's back was to him, but he had a profile view of
me, and he gave me a meaningful look.  "He woke me up when he came in the
door."

"Fifteen minutes late, were we?" Dad asked, but there was a smile on his
face and his eyes were back on the game.  At this point he was only going
to pretend it was a big deal.  Saved by my little brother.  I never thought
I'd see the day.  Evan was giving me a huge, calculating smile from behind
Dad's back.  "You need to make sure you get home before one," Dad lectured
out of obligation.  "Your mother and I are very generous to give you such a
late curfew; don't abuse it," he added, as Evan pointed to his crotch and
made sucking motions with his mouth looking right at me.  "In fact, tonight
you need to by home by midnight since you couldn't handle one last night.
If you do alright with it, we'll extend it back to one next weekend," Dad
finished as Evan continued to point to his cock, letting me know he wasn't
saving my ass for free.

"He should have to take me to a movie tonight instead of going out with his
friends!" Evan suggested, leaning over the couch and shaking Dad by the
shoulder to get his attention.

"And you have to take your brother out," Dad said, smiling at his younger
son's suggestion and apparently thinking it was a good idea.  "You can't
just wander back home at any time you like," he warned me when he saw what
he must have taken to be disagreement on my face.

"Shouldn't he try to be more like me?" Evan asked, still leaning over the
couch and shaking Dad by the shoulder.

"Yes, everyone should be more like you, Evan," Dad agreed.  "Now stop
shaking me.  This is an important inning."  Evan pulled himself off the
back of the couch, standing behind it again, and gave me another shit
eating grin, blowing me a kiss for effect.  I stared at him blankly,
although I had to admit he really knew how to work people over.  He was a
cunning little kid, even if he was incapable of using his intelligence in
the right ways.  As if to prove my point, he once again leaned over the
couch, this time to poke Dad squarely in the ribs.  "Alright, buddy, that's
it!" Dad shouted, playfully tugging Evan's weight over the back and on top
of him, where Sonny was nearly caught in the middle but had the presence of
mind to bound off the couch and leave the room.  As Dad and Evan wrestled
loudly on the couch, I followed the dog's lead and slipped out, too, not
sure if avoiding serious trouble was a worthy trade for having to spend an
entire night being seduced by Evan in public.


Hours later, our big night began.  The good thing about taking my brother
out is that I got paid for it.  Whereas I typically am on my own to finance
my social endeavors, Dad had slipped me a twenty on the way out the door
and given me a friendly pat on the shoulder.  He must have thought I was
handling my punishment admirably, and was extremely generous to take a true
horror like Evan off his hands for the night.

Speaking of Evan, he looked amazing.  He had obviously spent some time
getting himself together, because he was a stunning sight.  He wore a
yellow ringer t-shirt, the color matching wonderfully with his flawless
dark blond hair, which looked just slightly wavier than usual in a
stylishly windblown sort of way.  He wore a nice pair of khaki cargo shorts
and topped it all off with an even nicer pair of dark brown sandals.  The
kid was just hot, and I couldn't have possibly denied it tonight, although
of course I didn't tell him as much.  As he climbed into the passenger side
of the jeep his shirt rose just a few inches and revealed the tips of his
baby blue plaid boxers.  When he was settled in his seat he gave me a
smirk, and I had never felt so transparent.

The smirk lingered, however, and I could tell he was looking me over, too.
His bright green eyes were glowing as he studied me up and down.  I was
flattered, but couldn't help but be a little unnerved by his obvious sexual
thirst.  He had to be the most perverted 12-year-old in the world; I'm not
sure I knew a thing about sex back then, all of four years ago.

"Is this a date?" I tried to scoff, but my voice broke just slightly and I
blushed.  I had noticed when he brushed by me in the doorway a minute ago
that he had put on some of my cologne, which did smell awesome on him.  I
hadn't used that kind in months because I never liked it.  For him, it was
perfect.

"Yes," he answered, staring straight into my eyes with a directness that
reminded me of how he had responded to my nervous invitation for him to
join me in the shower.  His poise and forwardness was truly intimidating.
In many ways it felt like he was the older brother.  "Let's go eat
something," he said softly, finally pulling his eyes off me.  "If you can
keep food down," he grinned.

"I can't, and fuck you," I responded, sharply throwing the jeep in reverse
and backing roughly out of the driveway without even bothering to look
behind me first.  "We're going to see a movie and that's it.  I never
agreed to take you out to eat, too."

He switched tactics at this point, trying to act innocent.  "I just thought
we could eat somewhere first," he shrugged.  "Besides," he added, inching
close to me, "you get better sex if you wine and dine your date first."
His scent, both the freshness of his skin and the sweetness of the cologne,
oozed out of his pores and invaded my nostrils, forcing me into a brief
bout with light-headedness.

I groaned but caved in.  "This isn't about sex," I said sharply.  "I just
don't want you bitching at me all night about it."

"Thank you," he purred, resting his hand on my right leg in a surprising
sign of gratitude.  I had to peel it off me after a few seconds passed and
it hadn't moved.

"We're driving down a public road, idiot.  Anyone can see us," I chastised
him even as my cock stirred slightly from the contact.

He gave me a far off, dreamy grin as if to suggest he didn't see why that
mattered, but said nothing and kept his hands to himself the remainder of
the drive.  "Chinese food," he stated simply, patting his slender stomach
and rubbing it.  "I nominate Chinese buffet for dinner."  I said nothing
and made a right on Peachtree, which stretched on for miles and had several
restaurants located on it.  "Is that okay?" he finally asked.

"I'm not very hungry," I said, grudgingly admitting to myself that it would
be nice if I was, considering I, too, loved Chinese food.  "So I guess it's
your call," I shrugged, continuing to head north.

"China Inn is just down the road," he said.  "Let's go there.  God, I'm so
hungry.  I'm going to eat for hours."  He looked over at me.  "How can you
not be hungry for Chinese food?  I don't understand hangovers."  He shook
his head in disapproval.  On a whim, I turned into the plaza and took a
parking spot nowhere near the entrance, turning off the engine and looking
around carefully.  "What are you doing?" Evan asked, curious.  "Why are we
parking this far away?"

Without answering, I reached under my seat, groped around for a few seconds
while Evan watched, confused, and then found what I was looking for.  "Open
the glove box," I instructed Evan, examining the contents of the baggie I'd
been hiding under my seat for at least a few months now.  I really wasn't
the biggest fan of weed to be honest, but past experience had taught me
that a Chinese buffet is heaven if you go there high.  "You'll have to dig
around for it," I said as Evan opened the box and looked at the contents
blankly.  "Find a yellow glass object."

"You mean a bowl?" he asked, catching on now as he took a good look at what
was in my hand.

"Yes, a bowl, asshole.  I just figured if I called it that you'd spend the
next hour hunting for something you ate cereal out of yesterday morning."

He gave me a smirk and rooted through my intentionally cluttered glove
compartment.  "I'm not stupid," he boasted, finally coming up with the
object in question.  It was a crappy little bowl, but since a friend of
mine had given it to me for free, I wasn't complaining.  I snatched it from
him.

"Okay, I'm not rolling down the windows, so you're going to get a good
whiff.  It won't kill you, so don't bitch about it."  He rolled his eyes as
if he never had any plans of complaining.  "Your job is to make sure no
one's staring at us suspiciously.  We should be fine, but you can never be
too sure."

"Another reason why you're not exactly the perfect son," Evan responded,
unable to let our conversation from yesterday morning drop.  I ignored him
and clumsily loaded the bowl, packing it in as tightly as possible.  The
bowl was still black around the edges from the last time it was used.

"Next task," I said when the weed was as packed in as it was getting.
"Reach back into the compartment and dig out a lighter."

"There's a lighter right in front of you," he mumbled, meaning the
detachable lighter all cars come equipped with.  He opened the glove box
once again and hunted through it anyway.

"I'm not lighting the bowl with the car lighter," I answered shortly.
"That's just not right."  Within seconds he was handing me a more
appropriate lighter, and I quickly flicked it on, surprised it actually
worked.  I had at least two others in the glove box that didn't light.

"Haven't you ever worried about Mom or Dad finding any of this?" Evan asked
me as I took an especially long first hit and breathed it back out in a
dramatic cloud of dark smoke.  Exhaling is one of the coolest parts.  I
waved the smoke away and ignored him.  He watched me as I took another hit,
this one smaller, and then grinned.  "Can I try?" he asked, in such an
innocent tone I laughed.

"I don't have enough to give you," I said.  "This shit is expensive, you
know.  Besides, what kind of big brother would I be if I allowed you to get
high at the tender age of twelve?"  When a look of doubt crossed his face
over my last point, I shared with him a more legitimate concern.  "You'll
just be stupid about it and tell everyone you know you got high with me."

"Who would I tell?" he asked, and I had to shrug.  He really didn't have
any close friends that he kept for long.

"Grandma June," I joked, unable to keep from smiling at the thought of Evan
recounting an experience with marijuana to our very religious grandmother.
"You can have one hit," I relented with a sigh, handing him the bowl and
lighter.  "If you do it wrong and don't get the full effect, too bad."

His eyes lit up and he took hold of the bowl.  "Tell me what to do then,"
he said, gazing at the bowl almost in awe.  He had the right end facing his
mouth, at least.  I explained the delicate process of setting the flame of
the lighter on the weed and inhaling deeply at the same time, but then gave
up when he didn't seem to understand the importance of simultaneousness.

"Hand me the lighter," I said with another sigh.  "I'll light it for you,
and when I say to, suck in hard and slow, inhale afterwards, and then
breathe out.  This is your only hit, so do it right."  Looking
uncharacteristically serious, he put his mouth around the tip of the bowl
and waited for me to give him the order.  "Tighten up your mouth," I
commanded him, "or else you won't get a really good one."  He clamped down
on it, and I leaned over and started the lighter.

"Now," I said as the flame got to work.  He wasted no time taking in a big
breath, and I saw the weed light up into an orange glow, the embers burning
productively.  He continued to suck in, and I could tell even before he
stopped he had been very successful in his first ever hit.  Finally he
stopped, making sure to breathe in deeply afterwards, and then filled the
jeep with smoke in an almost expert manner.  "Holy shit," I said,
impressed.  "Have you been toking it up in your free time or something?"

He grinned at me, and reluctantly handed me the bowl back when I reached my
hand out for it.  "No," he answered, "but it wasn't too hard.  I just
breathed in really deeply like you said."

"That was a big fucking hit," I said, using the bottom of the lighter to
press the remaining weed into the center.  "You just about finished off the
bowl single-handedly."  He grin was growing wider by the second; he was
very pleased with himself for having accomplished so much on what was his
first ever hit.

I lit it one more time and got as much as I could out of it, but wasn't
pleased with it, so I reached back into the baggie and pulled out another
pinch, loading up a second bowl.  "Jesus Christ," I muttered.  "I didn't
think you'd get that big of a hit.  I didn't want to load up two bowls."
Although I was complaining, privately I was pretty impressed.

"I don't feel anything," he said as he watched me get the bowl ready for
another round.

"Try giving it a minute first," I smirked at him.  "With a hit that big
you'll be red-eyed for the rest of your life," I said untruthfully.  He
waited patiently while I took a few more modest hits.  I sensed him staring
at me by the third one.  "You want another one, don't you?" I asked without
turning to meet his eyes.

"Please?" he asked, again using the innocent tone that never failed to win
me over lately.

"Fine," I sighed yet again.  "You can finish off what's left of this bowl.
It's actually still lit, so you can just take a hit without even worrying
about the lighter.  Hurry before it goes out," I said, forcing it into his
waiting hand.

I watched as he took another hit, his eyes just as determined as they were
previously.  This one wasn't nearly as good, but he got a decent amount.
He was able to get only a small hit the third time, and he whined loudly
when I took the bowl back from him.  "It's not gone yet!" he said.  "Why do
you get to finish it?"

"Calm down pothead," I smiled at him.  "It went out.  I'll give it right
back.  You can finish your precious bowl."  I held true to my word,
rearranging the leftover weed and then handing it back to him.  "Get ready
for your last good hit.  I'll light it for you again.  Okay, now."

He breathed in one final time and then exhaled a healthy puff of smoke.  It
still paled in comparison to his first hit, but it was a good one.  I had
successfully polished off two bowls of weed with my little brother.
Interestingly enough, I thought having sex with him was as messed up as
things could get previously.

"Feeling anything now?" I asked him with a smile, putting the weed back
under my seat and leaning over to stash the bowl and lighter back in the
clutter of the glove box.

"I feel like I have a fever," he answered grinningly.  "But it's kind of
cool.  I don't feel any hungrier though.  Do you?"

"I still feel like shit," I answered honestly.  "But hopefully at some
point while we're inside it'll kick in and I'll get like five plates."  I
was still leaning across him so I could bury the incriminating evidence
deep in the glove box; somehow it made me feel better doing so.  I hadn't
realized how close my position had brought me to him until I felt his hand
on my hair.  He ran his fingers through it slowly, and the sensual contact
froze me.

He realized he had my attention and started treating me as if I were a pet,
scratching behind my ears and continually running his hand along my head.
For a few seconds I just sat there and let him stroke my hair, envying the
hell out of Sonny, who got this kind of thing all the time and didn't know
how lucky he was.  "Nobody's watching," Evan said, bringing me out of my
dream-like state.

I didn't answer, but I knew exactly what he meant.  I dropped my head all
the way into his lap as he continued to stroke my hair, breathing in the
scent of his crotch.  He was instantly hard once my head hit his lap, and
he squirmed around awkwardly.  Blinded by my overpowering lust once again,
I started planting kisses anywhere and everywhere, occasionally touching my
lips against the smoothness of his inner thigh where his shorts had just
slightly ridden up, and occasionally kissing the khaki fabric.  It really
didn't matter anyway; any part of him would do, clothed or not.  The
outline of his cock was clearly visible through his shorts, and I reached
out and grasped it firmly, causing him to breathe in sharply.

Desperate with impatience, I tore at his zipper and untangled his cock from
his boxers.  When it was free, it sprang out from the hole in his boxers
and nearly poked me in the eye.  Sitting back upright, I scanned our
surroundings carefully and then reached back down to his cock.  He had
taken the opportunity to slide his shorts down to his ankles, leaving only
his boxers to contend with, which were quite easy to work around.

I stroked him slowly while keeping my eyes trained on the area around us,
which continued to be quite unoccupied.  The thrill of jacking him off in
what was still broad daylight out in public was a rush to say the least.  I
reached my hand into the hole in his boxers and fondled his smallish, silky
balls, wishing I could sample them with my tongue instead.

Returning to his dick with some reluctance, I began pumping on it from the
base to the tip, still working slowly, trying to make him suffer
pleasurably.  I tickled his white blond pubes with my fingertips each time
my hand reached the bottom.  Glancing over at his face, I could tell he was
screwing it up so as to appear as normal as possible even though he wanted
to be groaning in delight.

When I finally did speed up the process a little, he threw his head back
against the headrest, and the sound of his teeth grinding together was
audible, along with his heavy breathing and occasional sighing.

The harder I went, the more he thrashed around, and before long he was
humping my hand so hard I probably didn't even need to move it anymore to
get him off.  Trying to prolong it, I stopped jacking him off momentarily
to grip his cock firmly, swirling my thumb around the tip, massaging the
slit on the underside with a delicate back and forth motion.  He hissed at
this teasing caress, humping harder into my hand and leaning over to softly
chew on my ear.  I pushed him off with my free hand and worked his cock
furiously with the other.  "Oh my God," he whispered, sounding so joyous he
was near tears.  "I'm getting high right before I jack off from now on," he
babbled incoherently, apparently finding the weed was adding to the
masturbation experience.

He started to say more, but could only squeal instead, as my final tugs
were in the process of bringing him to his orgasm.  He shot once straight
up and across and it landed on the glove compartment, another time that had
just enough carry to hit the floor mat at his feet, and then another one
that just oozed out slowly and dripped onto the seat.  I wrung all the
excess cum out of his cock with one more light squeeze, pulled my hand
away, and sucked on each finger individually.  At some point I had become a
semen addict.

"Now we're even," I said to him softly, referring back to how he had bailed
me out in the living room earlier.

"Fuck yeah," he purred, looking around quickly before leaning in and giving
me a chaste kiss on the lips.  "That was awesome," he almost whispered,
kissing me again and nibbling on my lower lip sweetly.  I threw my arms
around him and pulled him all the way off his seat and on top of me.

"Reach down and push the lever," I breathed into his face.  "The one that
lowers the seat," I elaborated as he gave me another quick smack on the
lips.  "Less chance someone might happen to spot two boys making out from a
distance that way," I continued, but my words were muffled with his tongue
entering my mouth aggressively.

He finally groped around long enough to find the right lever, and the seat
snapped back roughly.  "What movie are we going to see?" he asked me in
between several hard kisses.  He settled in at my throat so I could answer,
grazing my Adam's apple with his teeth and then sucking on it.

"Doesn't matter," I grunted, kissing his forehead and his hair.  "I was
thinking Fever Pitch would be alright," I suggested, spreading my kisses
out all over his face, including his nose and eyes.  He had a faint
sprinkling of freckles on the tip of his nose I swear I'd never noticed
before.

"Fuck Fever Pitch," he said, extending his tongue and meeting mine outside
my mouth.  "And fuck the Red Sox," he continued, now trying to swallow my
entire tongue.  "The Braves are better."  He was making quite a mess by
now.  His saliva was all over my face, and an excess of it was building up
on my chin and around my lips.

"You sound like Dad," I said, trying to get his tongue out of my mouth so
he didn't drown me.  I finally succeeded and gave him one final hard kiss,
biting his lips like he always did to me.  "I'm fucking hungry," I grinned
at him, unable to stop myself from bathing some of the spit off his face
with my much more trained tongue.

"Are you really?" he asked excitedly, relaxing now and resting his head on
my chest.  "It'll be a lot more fun to eat if we're both hungry."  He
kissed my chest through my shirt and nuzzled his head against my neck.
"Let's go eat then," he said, aiming his head up at my face and reluctantly
pulling himself off.


We settled on seeing Robots after taking down most of the buffet at China
Inn.  The weed had indeed done its job in the end.  Since Sin City was
rated R, and nothing else looked all that promising, we played it safe and
went for the reliable family film.  I couldn't tell you what I thought of
it, to be honest.  I was staring at Evan most of the time, especially when
the scenes were bright and I'd be able to see his face beside me.  He had
somehow, miraculously, gotten hungry again at the theater and munched on a
large popcorn and the biggest size of Dr. Pepper he could get.  We shared
the drink, but I didn't take more than a handful of his popcorn, and it was
nearly empty by the time the credits rolled.

Adorably enough, Evan actually did pay attention to the movie, and enjoyed
it thoroughly.  He hadn't even seemed to notice when I stared at him most
of the time, and when he did, he only grinned and lightly pressed his leg
against mine for a second while continuing to faithfully watch the screen.
My heart was dancing just a bit as we left the dark theater and stepped
outside.

It was just after eleven.  The cool spring air greeted us warmly; it was a
beautiful, clear night.  It was now that Evan would admit to me that he had
enjoyed the movie quite a bit, taking my silence as mockery and looking up
at me sheepishly and asking if I had thought it was stupid.  I lied,
telling him it was alright but that my attention span was still not there
from the weed.  This wasn't true; the weed had worn off a while back.  It
was him that had reduced my attention span.  Always him.

He was remarkably silent and composed on the way home.  Something soft and
soothing played on the radio, and I found myself realizing the night had
been perfect.  I couldn't remember feeling quite so content about how I had
spent my time on a weekend night.  For months now, all I'd been doing was
drinking; not always to excess, but always at least a few beers, flirting
with girls and trying unsuccessfully to get laid.  I had turned off my cell
phone for the night just to avoid having to explain to my friends where I
was, and until now, I hadn't even thought of them.

I kept glancing at Evan on the drive home, noting his outrageously calm
expression and thinking he seemed both older than usual and younger.
Outwardly he seemed very much so my little brother.  But for the past
several hours he had been remarkably mild mannered and mature.  I had never
seen that side of him.  Granted, I'm not sure I was ever around him enough
to let that side come out before.  It struck me, as I continued to glance
at him periodically, how little I really knew him, and how little being
closely related to someone can matter sometimes.  As we stopped at a red
light, he finally caught my eyes when I looked over, and gave me the same
response he had in the movie theater, smiling almost shyly, and then
looking away.

We didn't say a word the whole way, and then we were back at the house, out
of the jeep and walking up the uphill driveway, past Mom's red poinsettias
in front of the porch.  Evan waited silently behind me while I fitted the
key into the lock and quietly pushed open the door, a full two hours before
I would have been home if it had been a normal night, and a full four hours
before I had gotten home last night.

Still without a word, he brushed past me and disappeared down the hall;
seconds later I heard the bathroom door click shut.  For such a perfect
night, things sure seemed to be headed towards a strange conclusion.
Shrugging, I kicked my shoes off on the way and headed to my room, glancing
at the closed bathroom door and wondering if he was thinking about me.  I
entered my room, not bothering to turn on the light, and tugged off my
shirt, tossing it in the heap on the floor that passed as my hamper.  I
reached around and switched on the ceiling fan, standing near and letting
the breeze cool my skin.  The moon, as it always did when it was bright,
cast a faint ray of light into my room through the crooked blinds.  Hearing
the toilet flush and Evan's feet pattering on the carpet past my room, I
turned and headed for the bathroom.

Not entirely ridden of my early morning headache, I swallowed a few more
Ibuprofen, administered a few eye drops out of pure paranoia related to the
weed I smoked earlier, and then distractedly ran my tooth brush across my
teeth.  When I turned off the light and opened my door to go to bed, Evan
was once again waiting for me in the hallway.  He was becoming very good at
that.

He had on a plain white t-shirt tonight.  This one had sleeves and
everything.  His boxers matched perfectly, except for the blue stripes.  He
really seemed to like blue.  Whatever he wore, though, he always looked
fantastic.  Still without speaking, he reached out and took my hand and
pulled me along to his bedroom, which was also without a light on, and even
darker because his blinds didn't have a crooked row in them.

My heart sped up to a reasonably excited pace as he closed the door behind
us, enveloping us in the dark.  He had both his windows open, and the
breeze chilled me and immediately brought my nipples to an erect state.  I
got teased about my nipples sometimes by my friends when we'd go swimming
or do other things that required being shirtless; they were like two tiny
little red dots on my chest.

Standing by his door, I felt his breath on my chest before my eyes could
even adjust.  His lips were on my skin, but daintily, almost as if he were
trying to make a wound feel better.  I pulled him tightly against me and
wrapped my arms around his back.  He had his arms around my waist as he
kissed my chest, making our current position almost an embrace.  That was
definitely a first.  I don't think I had ever hugged Evan in my life.  He
was so damn skinny.  Squeezing him against me, all I could feel was his
soft skin and a lot of bones.  I got a lot of crap for being skinny myself,
but compared to Evan I was doing just fine.

His kisses were beginning to intensify, and he flicked his tongue out and
touched it against my left nipple.  My eyes were slowly beginning to
adjust, and I could now make out his outline right in front of me.  I
leaned down and kissed him on top of his head, dropping my arms down and
giving his butt a gentle squeeze.  He responded to that touch by grinding
his hips against mine and tilting his head up to mine.  I continued to
grope at his ass while eagerly accepting his lips against mine.  Our lips
met and came apart loudly half a dozen times in under ten seconds.  I could
taste salt and butter from the pound of popcorn he'd eaten earlier in the
brief time his tongue was in my mouth.  He fondled my cock through the
jeans as we kissed, squeezing the bulge through the soft denim.  A fire was
raging inside of me, and I carefully backed him towards his bed, not
wanting to let go of him.

It was still too dark to see clearly, so we hit his bed before either of us
saw it coming.  He fell back on it and I landed on top of him roughly,
kissing him fully and pulling at his tangled wavy hair.  We rolled around
on top the freshly made bed Mom had just tended to while we were gone,
kissing so intensely it was a battle just to remember to breathe.  Even
when we did breathe, we didn't pull away from each other.  We breathed into
each other's mouths instead, which filled the room with noises of heavy
panting and wet smacking.  He had wrestled himself on top of me, once again
proving to be the dominant one, and was sucking hard at my throat, giving
me what was sure to become a very prominent hickey.  While he had managed
to clumsily undo the button on my jeans and work the zipper halfway down, I
had pulled his shirt at least halfway off.  Finished feasting on my throat,
he bumped his lips into mine so hard our teeth knocked together, and he bit
my lip so sharply it started bleeding.

"Sorry," he whispered when I muttered profanity in pain.  He gingerly wiped
off the spot of blood with his finger.

"You don't have to bite me every time we kiss, you know," I grumbled, but
couldn't be bothered to wait for his reply.  I had pulled him by his head
back against me, sucking greedily on his tongue and running my hands along
his back, finally succeeding in getting his shirt off in between lengthy
kisses.  I pinched his nipples gently, and he yelped into my mouth as a
reflex, but kissed me even harder in response.

I fought against his weight and flipped our positions, getting him on his
back and lifting myself off him while he struggled to get my jeans down.  I
fiercely attacked his chest, fitting as much of his right pectoral as I
could get into my mouth and sucking on it as hard as I could.  I ran my
tongue repeatedly over his nipple from every possible direction, liking the
way the smooth texture of his skin underneath my tongue would abruptly
transform into the swollen bump of flesh where his nipple stood when my
tongue ran into it.  As my kisses slowly worked over to his arm pit, he
lifted his arms up willingly and stifled a giggle as I obliged him by
pressing my face into the hairless nook and breathing in the sweet smell of
his natural odor mixed with a lingering trace of the Old Spice deodorant he
had just started using a few months ago.  I had really meant to give the
area a few quick kisses and move on, but the aroma of it was incredible,
and I pressed my nose into it harder and continued to swipe at it with my
tongue fervently.

Only the idea of kissing down his stomach could pull me away, and I did
precisely that, working downwards slowly, savoring every silky inch of his
stomach and tasting his belly button.  When I got to his pelvis, I pulled
back and teasingly tugged outward on the waistband of his boxers as his
chest rose and fell rapidly, his body tense as a board.  I tickled the skin
just above the waistband, planting curious kisses all around the part of
his torso that wasn't still hidden.  I hooked my fingers into the waist and
pulled them back and he arched his hips so I could pull them off.  Just as
I pressed my face into his sparsely populated pubic hair and began to kiss
him there, he brought his hips up roughly and jabbed me in the face with
his cock, which had no trouble reaching its current steel-like state.

I ignored his silent plea and kissed his pubes instead, once again
marveling at how downy there were, opening my mouth and feeling them brush
against my lips and tickle my nose.  I gave his aching cock a quick kiss
and again bypassed it, settling my nose against his balls and giving them a
sniff.  They managed to combine the smells of sweat, semen, and boyishness
all in one, which strangely enough was quite arousing.  I kissed them
softly, and when that didn't repulse me, extended my tongue to them and
began to spread my saliva all over them.  Evan was writhing on the bed in
the process, squeaking whenever I would come up for air and kiss his cock.
I continued to delay putting it in my mouth, even though I could sense how
badly he wanted it.

Like the last time my nose had been pressed against his balls, I let my
kisses wander further and began getting excited about tasting his crack
again.  With some effort, I forced his legs up and licked him between his
cheeks.  Torn between getting rimmed and getting blown, he finally accepted
that the blow job wasn't going to happen right now and brought his legs all
the way up against his chest.  I studied his hole a little more carefully
this time, gazing at what I had put my entire tongue into just a few nights
ago.  I reached out and pulled his cheeks apart with my hands, and then
instinctively tried to force my index finger in.

"Ouch!" he said too loudly, and then lowered his voice.  "That doesn't feel
like your tongue," he complained, clearly preferring a blow job to being
probed.  I ignored him, wetted my finger, and then tried inserting it
again.  I was able to get it in about halfway this time, but he was too
clenched up for any real penetration.  I could feel him holding his breath
while I had my finger in him, unsure of what to make of it.  When he
finally relaxed a little, I was able to force it in a little more.
"Weird!" he said.  "It kind of feels like I'm taking a crap."

I snickered and pulled my finger out, replacing it with my tongue, which he
accepted happily.  I lapped at his hole, enjoying the oddly smooth texture
of his anus, pressing my nose against his skin and breathing in deeply.
There was something incredibly erotic about his ass.  Actually there was
something incredibly erotic about everything on him.  I kissed his crack
vigorously and had most of my nose inside it before pulling back, wetting
my finger once again, and then jamming it up his hole without warning him.

Narrowly avoiding a full-fledged yelp, he tightened up considerably.
"Can't you at least tell me when you're going to put your finger in?" he
whined, but relaxing again right afterwards.  This time I was able to get
the whole finger in, which was really cool, but weird.  I really had no
idea an asshole would even go in that far.  I started slowly pushing in and
out with my finger, watching him to see if he liked it.  With his legs up
in the air, I couldn't really see his face, but his feet were right there,
so I kissed the sole of his left foot, and he jerked away with a giggle.

"That feels really weird when you go in and out like that," he finally
said, saying nothing about the kiss but returning his foot to the original
spot and wiggling the toes invitingly.  I didn't hesitate in putting them
in my mouth, sucking on them without the slightest thought of where they'd
been the last several hours, trapped inside a pair of his sweaty socks.
"Keep doing that," he moaned, reaching down and stroking his cock.  "I want
to jack off while your finger's in my butt and you're licking my feet."

"Kind of a sick little shit, aren't you?" I grinned, pulling my mouth off
his big toe with a pop.

"You're the one who started all this," he grunted, not wasting time with
the jacking off.  I wasn't sure if he meant the thing about the toes and
his butt or just all of the sex in general, but since I was guilty of all
of the above, I guess it didn't matter.  He wiggled his toes once again,
and when I didn't immediately put them back in my mouth he forced them
against my face.  With my free hand I snatched at his ankle and licked the
bottom of his foot to appease him.  I continued to push my slowly drying
finger in and out of his hole while inserting my tongue in between each of
his toes one at a time.  I could tell by his breathing that he wasn't far
from shooting again.  He wasn't going to be lasting very long in this
position.

I heard him swear under his breath and knew he was close, so I pushed my
finger as deeply inside him as I could get it, and swallowed all of his
toes simultaneously.  He let out a high-pitched shriek and shot a load
straight up, which landed right on his chest because of his awkward
position.  As his dick stopped twitching, I pulled my mouth off his toes
carefully removed my finger from his ass.  He winced when I pulled it all
the way out.  I held it up to my nose, and, not noticing anything vile
streaked on it, put it in my mouth.

He dropped his legs back to the bed and caught his breath while I lay down
next to him.  "Have a taste," I teased him, waving my finger in front of
his face.  Unsure of it, he reluctantly extended his tongue towards my
finger and dabbed it against it.  "What do you care?" I asked with a laugh.
"It's your ass."  With that bit of logic, he shrugged and put the whole
thing in his mouth and sucked on it gently.

"I can't taste anything," he finally said afterwards.  He hadn't let go of
my hand yet, and after a few seconds he set it down thoughtfully on his
bare chest, playing with my knuckles in silence.  "I have to take a piss so
bad," he finally said, breaking into the silence.  "Unless you want me to
do it in your mouth, I have to go to the bathroom," he giggled.

I pushed him away from me jokingly, but the idea of his urine genuinely did
not seem very enticing.  I did wonder how he could possibly need to piss
again so soon, though.  I had heard the toilet flush right before he had
came and brought me to his room.

"I'll be right back," he said, pulling himself out of bed and walking
towards the door completely naked.  "Don't go anywhere, and don't jack off.
I'm going to blow you when I get back."  Remembering how I had yet to have
an orgasm tonight, my cock instantly shot back up, sensing its time was at
hand.  While he was gone I leaned over the side of the bed, picked up his
boxers off the floor and pressed them against my face.  I closed my eyes
and waited eagerly for my blow job.

I somehow managed to doze off in the two minutes he was out of the room; he
brought me out of the dream world I had been halfway submerged into with a
soft giggle at the doorway.  "I just put those on when we got home," he
whispered, standing at the foot of the bed and grinning at me.  He had
caught me inhaling the fragrance of his boxers.  "I can leave you much
dirtier ones on the hamper in the future," he added, and I blushed in the
dark, remembering the episode from yesterday morning.  I wasn't sure how he
would know about that.

He lowered himself onto the bed, hovering over me in a push-up position.
He held my gaze for several seconds, simply breathing down into my face.  I
stared up at him calmly, taking the opportunity to admire his perfect face
up close.  Finally he dropped his weight on me abruptly, his head landing
on my chest with a thud.  I waited patiently for him to make the next move,
but he didn't, so I linked my hands together around the small of his back
and kept waiting.

"Austin?" he whispered, breathing in deeply and readjusted his head against
my chest to where his ear was directly aligned with my heart.  "Why'd you
invite me into the shower the other day?" he finally finished, taking in
another slow breath.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.  I'd been wondering the same thing
ever since it happened, and I still hadn't figured it out.

"Are you gay?" he countered with immediately, as brash as ever.

"I don't think so," I said thoughtfully, again answering as best as I
could.  I had started petting his hair without even realizing it.

"Oh," was all he said, and he momentarily looked up at me before setting
his head back down on my chest.  "Do you want to know if I am?" he asked me
after it became evident to him I wasn't going to ask.

"Since when have I ever wanted to know anything about you?" I asked him,
unintentionally being ruder to him than I'd been all day.  He said nothing,
and I sighed.  "I don't really want to talk about any of it," I admitted,
finding myself on the defensive now that he trying to verbalize our recent
experiences.  "I don't know why I asked you to come in the shower with me,
okay?  I don't know why I want to have sex with all of a sudden."

"Oh," he said again, being so timid it angered me.

"What's with you tonight, anyway?" I snapped at him.  "Just because we had
sex a few times doesn't mean you have to start acting like a different
person.  You've been weird as hell since the movie."

"I thought you didn't like it when I talked a lot," he said quietly, still
with the shyness of a small child talking to a stranger.  "I just didn't
want you to be pissed at me all night.  I thought you'd have more fun that
way."

I gently pushed him off me, thoroughly irritated with his act.  "Shut up,
Evan," I said angrily.  "You've never cared what I thought of you, and I've
never cared what you thought of me.  You can't expect me to believe that
shit."

He said nothing for a few seconds, and I would have gotten up and left if I
wasn't so damn horny still.  If he stopped trying to have a heart-to-heart
with me, I'd still be willing to take him up on that blow job.  "You're so
fucking stupid," he finally said, much to my surprise.  It wasn't so much
the words that surprised me, but rather how he said them.  He was
completely calm; this wasn't just an insult he'd flung at me in one of his
family-inherited temper flares.  "I really thought you got it until just
now."

"What the hell are you going on about?" I asked, confused.

"You don't like me at all, do you?" he asked, an almost evil smile
appearing on his face.  We were now lying side by side on our backs, our
faces turned towards each other, just inches apart.

I thought about his question, turning it over in my head.  It would
probably take weeks to sort through all the conflicting emotions that
surfaced when he asked it, but not having that much time, I opted for the
short answer.  "No," I said, looking him straight in the eyes.  "You're
just there.  You've always just been a kid I had to share a house with."
He didn't turn away from me, or even change his expression.

"That's what I thought," he answered in a bland tone.  "Mom says it's not
true, but I always knew you hated me."  His face had gotten closer to mine
as he spoke, and I didn't pull back.  "I've always thought it was cool to
have a big brother, though," he continued, his breath tickling my face.
Suddenly his lip trembled just slightly and his eyes shone in the darkness.
"I'm sorry if I'm an annoying little prick," he said, referring to the
insult I used on him most often, and much to my disgust his previous gritty
poise was crumbling all the way.  The only thing that stopped me from
leaving was pure fascination, because I had not seen Evan cry in years, and
he was not faking it.  "I really don't mean to piss you off so much," he
stammered, taking three tries to get the sentence all the way out.  "You
know everyone hates me anyway," he kept going, right on the edge of sobbing
now.  "Tonight I thought you liked me.  You kept looking at me, and you
didn't hit me even once.  I really thought you had a good time," he babbled
on, pausing to sniffle after each word of his last comment.  "But you
probably won't even take me out again next week.  I'll just sit here in my
room like usual."  When he got that out, he was finally too embarrassed by
his display to face me anymore, and he turned his back to me.  I watched
his shoulders shake as he continued to bawl.

He was right, for the most part.  I had liked him tonight; he'd been a
hundred times cooler than I thought he was capable of being, and I had
enjoyed our time together.  Unable to think of anything I could possibly
say while he was this out of control, I finally pulled myself off his bed
and picked up my clothes.

"Wait!" he sniffed when I had finally found my boxers.  "I didn't blow you
yet.  I still owe you."

"I'll take a rain check," I muttered, thoroughly bothered by the idea of
Evan blowing me while he bawled it up at the same time.  I turned and
looked at him as I stood by his door, debating on whether or not to say
something that might comfort him a little.  Instead I just left, completely
convinced now that inviting him into the shower truly had scarred us for
the rest of our lives.