Date: Sun, 13 Apr 1997 11:12:53 -0700
From: Boy-writer <bstory@anon.nymserver.com>
Subject: Thomas and Alexander
Thomas and Alexander
--------------------
Alexander was ten when his father remarried.
His mother had died while having him, and he had never known her. Mr.
Harris had loved his wife more than life itself, and her death devastated
him. He never blamed Alexander for his wife's death, but he didn't transfer
his affection either. He just turned cold inside - not bitter, not angry,
not sad - just empty.
Alexander's father took care of him in all the outward ways as a father
should. Alex never went hungry and was always well dressed, though not
always in clothes that matched. When he was a baby, his diapers were always
changed promptly, his bottle tested for the right temperature. Mr. Harris
spoke to his son in the first few years, conscious of his responsibility for
teaching the boy to talk, but after that, he spoke less and less, offering a
word or two of admonishment when necessary, a "very good" when it seemed
appropriate. While he cuddled the baby little, apparently it was enough,
for Alexander didn't turn out autistic or sociopathic.
When he was three or four and his father stopped talking to him, he tried at
first to get his attention somehow, pulling on his pant leg to show him
things he had found in the street, asking him questions, climbing into his
lap. Increasingly, the boy found that instead of getting the desired
effect, he only made his father mad. Alexander did it less and less.
The man knew that he needed to give the boy love, to show his affection, but
he couldn't give what he didn't have, and his wife had taken that part of
him with her. From time to time, he felt guilty, but all he could manage
was a bit of small talk, asking Alexander how school was going, whether he
had made friends, and so forth. It always petered out after a few short
exchanges. There was nothing to say.
Alex had friends he played with, and he enjoyed school. He was to all
outward appearances perfectly happy and well-adjusted, not missing what he
had never had.
----
When Sandra had come along a year ago, something began to happen to Paul
Harris. She did little things for him, silly things like having a singing
telegram delivered to his office on his birthday, sending him flowers
(before he had ever sent her any), criticizing his choice of ties. He came
to love her, not with the passion he had shared with his first wife, but he
loved her nonetheless. She had a smile that added color to a gray room, a
laugh that drove away his darkness. One day while getting dressed in the
morning, he selected a tie that she would like, not thinking about it, and
he realized he had to marry her. It was the only logical thing to do.
There was a short courtship, very pleasant for both, which both recognized
as a mere formality. Unlike on television, however, they did not sleep
together before they married, for while they were sexually attracted, that
was not the basis of their relationship. They were married in June in a
medium-sized wedding attended by family and close friends. As a divorcee,
Sandra wore orange. Since neither was religious, a justice of the peace
presided.
Mr. Harris' new wife was a nice enough woman, and Alexander readily
consented to calling her "Mother," which pleased her. Like most
stepparents, she didn't feel quite comfortable with her new "offspring,"
however. She seldom disciplined Alexander, deferring to her husband in
that, and urged her spouse to talk to his son more, something she tried to
do, but she couldn't seem to find anything to say. Paul tried, but he
couldn't find anything to say either. In any case, Alexander was accustomed
to his father's reticence and did not respond.
----
Sandra's previous husband, if you can call him that, got her pregnant,
married her, then hung around the house for two years, never looking for a
job, expecting her to wait on him. She worked two jobs and always came home
to find the baby wet and hungry, crying unattended in his crib, her husband
asleep on the couch with the TV on. One day she came home early to find the
baby crying as usual in the next room, her husband lying on the couch as
usual, this time with a naked teenage girl on top of him. She grabbed the
girl, slapped her hard, and told her to wait in the baby's room, then drove
her husband out the front door with his pants around his ankles, threatening
to kill him if he ever came back. With that taken care of, she went to the
baby's room where the naked girl was still cowering (ignoring the child's
insistent crying), grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her to the phone in
the kitchen, where she made the girl call her parents and tell them what had
happened. They were none too pleased; in fact, they were as angry as
Sandra, and soon the poor girl was being yelled at from all sides.
After that, Sandra let the girl get dressed, and they waited for her parents
to arrive. When the girl's father came to pick her up, the poor girl waited
in the car as he and Sandra stood on the front lawn yelling at each other.
Sandra wanted to call the police on her worthless husband and charge him
with statutory rape. The father replied that it was her fault, if she had
been providing for her husband as he needed this would not have happened.
Sandra was having none of that and repeated her claim, saying that she was
divorcing that bastard as of *now* and that she wasn't going to let some
little tart be the cause of her losing her child and the house she paid for.
Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered in the sleepy neighborhood to watch the
fight, and someone called the cops. As the car approached, the father
realized that what was left of his daughter's honor was swiftly going down
the toilet and agreed that he would back up Sandra in the divorce litigation
if she promised not to press the statutory rape issue. She agreed, and the
cops came and broke up the fight, which by that time was already over. The
police were somewhat frustrated that neither party would say what the fight
had been about, but another call came in, as it usually does, and they
satisfied themselves with telling both parties to stay away from each other,
to which they readily agreed.
Sandra, as she said, filed divorce papers as soon as possible, regrettably
not the next day, but perhaps a week later, given the sloth of the American
legal system. She charged her husband with infidelity. He contested the
divorce, but the girl's father showed up to confirm her claim. Sandra's
mother came and declared that the baby was neglected in her father's care,
which was true, and that he had never worked during the marriage, which was
also true and confirmed by tax and other records. To Sandra's surprise, her
husband's mother also showed up, apparently called by him, but she confirmed
the same story. Sandra was awarded the house and car and sole custody of
her son, without visitation except at her discretion. She eventually had to
remortgage the house to pay the lawyer's bills, but all in all it turned out
pretty well for her. The husband, who (rightly, as it was) claimed poverty,
was assessed $20 a month child support, which he never paid, and which
Sandra never sought. He never asked for visitation either, and never got
it.
Sandra Wallace took even longer to get over her first marriage than Paul did
his, but unlike him she didn't give up on looking for the right man, and she
never failed to show affection for her son, who became the center of her
life. She avoided pampering him, however, despising other single mothers
who raised effeminate sons. She got him involved in team sports as soon as
he was able and played catch with a football and baseball in the back yard.
She installed a hoop over the garage and played basketball with him too.
When she looked at Thomas, she was infinitely proud of her work, for he was
tall and strong, every inch a man.
When Sandra met Paul at the office, she liked him immediately. Several
years older than he was, but still beautiful in spite of a certain hardness
around the eyes, she realized that he would never make the first move, so
she did. It was not that she needed a man - she had been well cured of that
illusion. It wasn't that he needed her, either, for clearly he needed
nobody, and that was part of what drew her to him. It wasn't long, though,
before she realized that she had something to give him, and he had something
to give her. She set out to marry him, well before he even thought of her
in a romantic sense. Ultimately, she was successful, and he had not
disappointed her.
Paul's little boy bothered her some, since while he wasn't exactly
effeminate, he was studious and did not participate in sports. Clearly
Alexander had not been raised the way she had raised her own son, but she
couldn't expect that. She decided that the boy was decent enough, though he
could use some toughening up. It would be a strain to have a ten-year-old
she didn't know in the house, but it was well worth it for Paul, and as far
as that goes she rather liked Alexander, who at least didn't seem to have
been pampered too much.
----
Thomas was seventeen, 6'3" tall, and 230 pounds, all muscle. A senior in
high school, he was on the varsity football and baseball teams. He was a
good but by no means stellar football player and played offensive guard.
The team did well, though, and he shared in the adulation that all varsity
football players receive. He was the best hitter on the baseball team, a
much less popular sport at that school, frequently wowing the sparse crowd
with a homerun hit, line drive, or well-aimed bunt. Thomas could catch, but
he ran slow - his baseball coach taunted him that he ran like an offensive
guard. He had earned a letter jacket while still a sophomore and wore it
frequently, though it had been outgrown and was small on him.
Thomas had no lack of girls, of course. He tended to date above his station
in life, however, and many of his girls would not put out for him, even
after several dates. From time to time, he would date a tramp just for the
sex, but it always felt faked on their part, and he always felt guilty
afterward. They seemed too experienced, making him feel inadequate in small
ways, though inevitably they acted as if they had had the best orgasm of
their lives. To make matters worse, he had no car of his own and had to
borrow one from his friends on the football team, in return for which they
demanded a play-by-play account. He inflated his romantic achievements and
diminished his failures, feeling bad about lying all the time. Occasionally
he had recourse to a five-fingered friend, and while he kept it to himself,
he wasn't especially self-conscious about it.
He was a decent student, not failing at least, with a C-/B+ average. It was
good enough for his mother. Nobody knew how hard he worked for it. He
struggled every night over his homework, trying to grasp facts that would
inevitably slip away as soon as he held them in his mind. Between studying
and athletic practice - and the occasional date - he had no time left. When
his friends suggested that he get a job like they did so he could buy a car
of his own, he deflected them with jokes. He hated asking his mother for
money to go on a date, but he didn't have a choice, and his dates were
inevitably cheap ones. Thomas knew he had to keep his grades up to get into
college, as his mother expected, even with an athletic scholarship. When
the time came for his SAT's, he studied for a whole month with no dates -
and still didn't get the score he needed.
----
Alexander was drawn to Thomas right away, and the older boy liked him too.
With the age difference, there was no problem of rivalry. Thomas was very
protective of Alexander and would drop everything to help him if he asked.
More important, perhaps, Thomas would listen with interest (or appear to)
whenever Alex talked, and he gave his little brother all sorts of advice,
which Alex took as gospel. Whenever Thomas came home from school, Alex
would be there waiting for him, full of questions. Thomas would pick him up
and give him a hug, or sometimes wrestle with him or put him in a headlock
until he said "uncle."
Alex went to some of his brother's practices and rode home with him on the
bus talking about football. When his brother was home, he wanted to be with
him all the time, till finally Thomas had to set a rule that he couldn't be
disturbed when he was studying. Alexander finally found a way to break the
rule by bringing his stepbrother treats. He could only do that a couple
times a night, though, or Thomas would grab him by the ear and throw him
out. On rare occasions when Thomas finished studying (or gave up) before
Alexander's bedtime, he would come out to watch TV with the family, and then
Alex would immediately jump in his lap, Thomas being compelled to hold the
squirming, pajama-clad boy, trying to shush him so that he could watch the
show. Finally, Alex would get tired, put his arms around his older
brother's neck, and fall asleep in his lap. Inevitably, Thomas would have
to carry Alex up to his room and tuck him in, at which point Alex would wake
up and kiss him goodnight. The first few times, Thomas didn't know what to
do, but he eventually decided that it was okay to kiss Alex on the forehead.
"'Night, sport," he would say.
Alex made friends his own age at his new school, though not at first as many
as at the old one, and he played with them, but usually if his brother had
football practice he would go to that instead. Sometimes, Alex would have a
friend over when Thomas came home from school, and when that happened he
would stop whatever game they were playing and run to the door, usually
dragging Thomas by the hand and urging him to join in the game the little
boys were playing. Thomas would play a little bit, then say he had homework
to do and leave, eventually learning to disregard the pleadings of Alex, and
sometimes those of his friend as well. All of Alex's friends agreed that
Thomas was way cool, especially when they learned he was on the varsity
football team, but it was very easy to be impressed with Thomas just from
his looks alone.
The younger boy's infatuation with his stepbrother didn't go unnoticed by
their parents. Sandra was delighted. She knew her boy and felt that he was
the best possible influence on Alex. Paul was briefly afflicted with an odd
form of jealousy, which he did not admit to himself, since Thomas seemed to
be becoming a sort of surrogate father to his son. He eventually came
around to his wife's point of view, however.
----
Alex got home from school one day, as always before Thomas did, his two best
friends being sick with an autumn flu that was going around. He got a snack
out of the refrigerator and clicked around the TV channels but didn't feel
like watching. He was bored (a constant danger when you're ten). Suddenly,
he got an idea.
Thomas' room was a horrendous mess (Alex's was relatively clean since he
hadn't yet reached the stage of adolescent slovenliness). Alex decided to
clean it for him. His big brother would be so pleased! He ran upstairs and
began grabbing dirty clothes off the floor, off the furniture, from under
the bed, and took them down to the laundry room. He carried away an amazing
number of dirty dishes with leftover food (most of them from Alex's snack
service). Some of the posters on the walls were not straight, and he
straightened them out, one time puncturing his thumb with a tack. He made
the bed and straightened the curtains. Still not quite right. He ran
downstairs and got the furniture polish, then dusted all the furniture. He
straightened the rugs on the floor, then decided that wasn't good enough and
vacuumed them, lugging the vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs with great
difficulty. At that point, he was satisfied, till he went back down and saw
all the dirty dishes in the sink. He rinsed them off as best he could (they
had some really bad dried-on food) and put them in the dishwasher. He
filled the dishwasher with *way* too much soap and turned it on. He then
went out to the laundry room and put a load of clothes in the washer. He
wondered what the temperature should be and put it on hot so they would get
really clean. He put the letter jacket in that first load so that it would
at least be washed when Thomas got home. He put the needed amount of
detergent in, reading the box, then added some extra to make sure. He
turned on the TV and sat down to wait for his big brother to get home, a
smile on his face.
Time passed, but Thomas did not come home at the usual time. Alex was sure
it wasn't a practice night, and he got more and more worried. Both parents,
of course, were still at work. The washer stopped, and Alex put the clothes
in the dryer, then put another load in the washer, this time doing mostly
underwear since they were the raunchiest. Again he put it on hot.
Alex's Dad called to say that he would be late. He asked if Thomas was
there. Alex told him no. His Dad said when Thomas got home to have him fix
them some supper; there were TV dinners in the freezer. Sandra, who had
since moved to another company that paid better, worked later hours and was
seldom home before 7:30, though she always saw the boys off to school.
Finally, Thomas came home, driven by a friend on the football team. Alex
smiled broadly, anxious for his brother to discover what he had done. When
Thomas came in the door, Alex ran over and nearly bowled him over, then
Thomas picked him up and hugged him. He tried to seem jovial as always, but
it didn't fool Alex; he knew something was wrong. Well, Thomas would feel
better when he saw the surprise!
Thomas put the boy down and went upstairs, wondering distantly why Alex
seemed so happy, but his own moroseness quickly pushed that thought away.
He had taken the SAT for the second time, and he was sure he had failed it;
if anything, he had done worse than last time. He would never get into
college, and his mother would be disappointed in him, something he could not
bear to think of. He hated himself for being so stupid. He didn't want to
talk to anyone, not even Alex - no, especially not Alex. His little brother
was good in school and would never understand what it was like if you
weren't. And he didn't want Alex, who idolized him, to see that weakness in
him.
When Thomas walked into his room, he had to blink. Jesus, somebody came
into his room - *his* room! - and cleaned it up. God, why did his mother
have to do this to him now?! How would he find anything? No, worse was the
invasion of privacy. How could she come into his private domain and handle
his things like he was four years old?! He tramped loudly around the room,
his anger building with every piece of dusted furniture, every straightened
poster. How could she do this?! Why did she do this??!
But no, she didn't, she wouldn't. Somehow, he knew she wouldn't. She had
stayed out of his room, as far as he knew (in fact, she came in occasionally
to search for drugs but left no trace), since he turned 15. His mother
hadn't done it. God, it had to be Paul. That bastard had come in and
handled all his things, as if to make it known that this house belonged to
him now! (The couple had decided to move into Sandra's house.) Son of a
bitch was just making it known that he could do whatever he pleased, and to
hell with a seventeen-year-old's privacy! I'll kill him, Thomas thought, I
have to kill him, there's no two ways about it.
But then, no, he realized, Paul wouldn't have done it either. Paul would do
the dishes and occasionally fold laundry, but that was about it; he hated
housework (though he had done a lot of it when he was alone with Alex).
Whoever did this did a lot of work messing with his stuff.
That's when he noticed the Playboy's. (Actually, he had other magazines
besides _Playboy_, but he lumped them all into a category.) His Playboy's,
his most private posession, had been pulled from beneath his mattress and
stacked neatly on a chair, each one's cover carefully turned to the outside.
That was the absolute end. The shame of it added to his rage till he felt
like he had to either kill someone, right there, on the spot, or explode.
Suddenly he realized who had done it.
"ALEX!!!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, charging down the stairs
three at a time.
Alexander stood up, his smile vanishing. This was not the response he had
hoped for.
"ALEX, YOU LITTLE FUCKBRAT, WHAT DID YOU DO?!!" Thomas demanded before he
hit the living room floor.
His little brother didn't know what to say. He had thought Thomas would be
happy.
"WHERE IS MY LETTER JACKET?!!" Thomas demanded, shaking with rage. Just
then, the dryer buzzer went off. Alexander ran to get the jacket out of the
dryer so he could give it to his brother. He knew how important the jacket
was to him. Thomas followed him. Alex dug in the dryer for a little bit,
then his brother pushed him out of the way. When he pulled the jacket out,
it was faded and shrunk to Alex's size.
Thomas stood there for an instant holding the jacket, staring at it in
disbelief. "How could you do this to me?! Oh God, my jacket!!" he
screamed. "You destroyed it!!" He glared at Alex. "How could you!!
Why?!!"
Alexander simply stared at him, flinching every time he moved. Thomas
wanted to hit him, oh God how he wanted to, but he could never hit Alex,
except in a game. "My clothes ..." Thomas said, pulling his shrunken
clothes out of the dryer, many of them stained with the color faded from the
jacket. "What did you do to my clothes?!! Jesus God almighty, I can't wear
these!!" He shook a shriveled shirt in Alex's face and began to pace.
"You go into my room where I NEVER invited you, and you take my clothes out
and ruin them!! You go through my stuff, MY STUFF, and you play with it!!
You move MY STUFF around with your little game!!" A thought came to him
that made him madder still. "They you act like you're happy to see me!!
You act like it's all okay!! What am I gonna wear now?!! What am I gonna
wear, since you ruined all my clothes?!!"
Alex ran upstairs to his room as fast as he could, slammed the door, and
locked it, tears streaming down his face. His brother's voice echoed
through the door. "ALEX, YOU LITTLE SHIT!! IT'S OVER, YOU HEAR ME?!!
OVER!! YOU'RE NOT MY BROTHER ANY MORE!!"
Alexander buried his head in his pillow and cried like he had never done
before. How could he be so stupid? Thomas hated him, really, really hated
him. He had made his brother mad by going through his stuff and destroyed
his clothes. Destroyed his jacket, his best thing. And Thomas would never
forgive him. He wanted to die.
Thomas regretted that last remark almost as soon as it was out of his mouth,
but he was too mad to think about it much. He took what was left of his
clothes out of the dryer and carried them upstairs, glaring angrily at
Alex's closed door as he passed it, stomping his feet but saying nothing
further. He went back downstairs and pulled the load out of the washer,
gritting his teeth when he found the occasional shrunken pair of pants or
shirt, and put them in the dryer. He made another washer load and put them
on warm, as he had been taught to do, then went upstairs and started shoving
whatever wasn't shrunken beyond recognition noisily into drawers, making a
pile in the corner of stuff that couldn't be salvaged. He took his letter
jacket, what was left of it, and tried to put it on, then threw it against
the wall with disgust.
As he did so, he was caught unawares by the humor of the situation. He
wiped the smile from his face and tried to concentrate on his anger, but the
smile came back. He continued sorting clothes, moving and making noise as
if he were still angry, but he was getting less and less so, and the smile
kept coming back no matter how hard he tried to drive it away. Finally, as
the dryer went off for the second load, he calmed down. He walked down and
picked it up with a normal gait, put the third load in the dryer, and put
the fourth and final load in the washer.
As he sorted the second load, Thomas' anger briefly returned as he saw that
two of his best pairs of pants had been ruined, but the smile quickly
returned. Why did Alex do it? he thought, then realized that he would never
do it on purpose. It was an accident. The kid idolized him and wanted to
see his things, that had to be the reason. He just didn't know how to wash
clothes, Thomas thought, almost laughing. His own failure on the SAT was
forgotten. Thomas went back downstairs leaving the pile in the corner, more
perplexed and bemused than angry.
He watched some TV, obviously not wanting to study tonight, both because he
was too upset and because with two consecutive failures on the SAT, it
seemed futile. He wondered more about Alex's motivation. Finally, Thomas
realized that Alex had been trying to do him a favor, and when that hit home
it was like a ton of bricks fell on his head. He had been *way* too hard on
the kid, he thought, even setting aside that last remark which he refused to
think about. No matter what had happened, Alex was trying to do a good
thing for him, and Thomas should not have lit into him like that.
Mrs. Harris walked in the front door just then. "Hi, Tom," she said with a
weary smile. "Hell of a day for me. Half the offices are moving, and the
other half don't know where anything is. How was yours?" she asked, hanging
up her coat.
"Fine," Thomas lied.
"Where's Alex, did he come home?" she asked, still getting used to worrying
about a ten-year-old again.
"He's up in his room."
"Did you guys eat supper yet? I guess Paul didn't come home?"
"No, we were waiting for you." One lie leads to another.
"You should have made supper. You know we have TV trays in the freezer,"
she said.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot."
"Well, I'm too tired to cook tonight. Let's just call out for some pizza."
She picked up the phone and ordered a large pepperoni pizza, then remembered
she had two growing boys in the house, as well as a husband who would
probably be home at any minute. She added a large sausage to the order.
She sat down, took her shoes off, and put her feet up on the coffee table.
"God, I'm so tired," she said, rubbing her calves. "When the pizza guy
comes, you get it. There's money in my purse."
Tom took out a twenty and a ten and set them on the coffee table. He got up
without a word as if he had to go to the bathroom, walked back up the
stairs, and knocked on Alex's door softly. There was no answer. "Alex, you
can come downstairs now, Mother's home." It was the wrong thing to say, but
he couldn't bring himself to say he was sorry, having inherited his mother's
stubborn pride. He thought the best thing would be to minimize what had
happened. There was still no answer. He heard sniffling inside. God, the
kid was still crying. Thomas went back downstairs.
The dryer buzzer went off, and Sandra, perplexed, started to get up to get
it. Thomas wheeled past her and went into the laundry room, taking the
third load out of the dryer, putting the fourth load in. She stared at him
as he walked past her again and upstairs to his room with a load of clean
laundry in his arms. This had never happened before. Thomas walked up the
stairs, then paused at Alex's door for a minute, listening. He didn't hear
anything and went on. He put his clothes away quietly, listening for a
sound from the room next door, but he heard none. Best to leave Alex alone
for a while, he concluded, walking past his little brother's door without
stopping.
Sandra was still staring at him when he came downstairs. "Are you doing
laundry?" she finally asked as he sat back down.
"Yeah, I decided to clean my room," Thomas said, not looking at her, trying
to make it seem unimportant.
His mother didn't reply to that but glanced at him from time to time. This
kind of responsibility was new. Maybe Alex was as good for Thomas as Thomas
was for Alex. Her son was trying to be a good example. She looked at him,
smiling.
"What?" Thomas said, feeling self-conscious.
"Nothing," Sandra replied. "Put on channel 7." She looked back at the TV.
He picked up the remote and clicked to channel 7.
Thomas kept waiting for Alex to come downstairs, but he never did. The
teenager realized that it had been a long time since he had sat and watched
TV without Alex in his lap. He avoided the thought and concentrated on the
show. When it ended, he glanced up the stairs again. He's trying to make
me feel guilty, Thomas thought. He tried to work up some anger to escape
the guilt he felt, and, for a while, he succeeded.
The pizza guy came, and Thomas paid him. His mother took her feet off the
coffee table, and the pizzas were placed there. Thomas got paper plates and
napkins out of the kitchen without even being told to do so, and brought out
cans of Coke for the two of them. Sandra was amazed again.
"I'll get Alex," Thomas said and went up the stairs. He knocked on his
brother's door. "Supper," he said simply. There was no answer. He tried
the door and found it locked. "Come on, it's pizza. Pepperoni, your
favorite." Still no response. "All right, be that way," he said finally
and went back downstairs.
"Is he coming?" Mrs. Harris asked.
"No, maybe he's asleep," her son replied.
"I should go check on him, he might be sick," the woman said, setting down
her plate.
"No, he was really tired. I think he just decided to take a nap."
"Still, I should check on him," Sandra insisted, uncertainly. She was dead
tired, though, and searching for any excuse to avoid going up the stairs.
She would have fallen asleep before now, but she was too tired even for
that.
"No, he's fine, I checked his forehead," Thomas said, not looking at his
mother. "We just played really hard this afternoon." Now he felt like total
crap, immersed in horrible, stinking guilt. He was the scum of the earth,
and he knew it. Thomas knew, however, that his mother would be furious with
him if she knew what had happened, and she was a real harridan when angry -
he had inherited her temper as well. For the moment, fear of her anger
overrode the additional guilt of lying to her.
"All right, then," his mother replied, thankful for the excuse not to climb
the stairs. "I suppose we can just heat up some pizza for him when he wakes
up."
The two of them dug in, though Thomas' appetite was gone, and he ate more to
avoid suspicion than anything else. (It is a hard thing to eat 5 pieces of
pizza when you're not hungry, just to avoid suspicion.) Mrs. Harris ate two
pieces and fell asleep in the middle of a third. Thomas stretched her out
on the couch and moved over to a chair.
Shortly thereafter, Mr. Harris finally came home. "Sandra!" he said, too
loudly, then saw his wife asleep and quickly quieted himself. He nodded at
Tom, then grabbed a paper plate off the coffee table and took a piece of the
sausage pizza. It was cold, he discovered with his first bite. He went
into the kitchen and heated it up in the microwave. His day had been almost
as hard as his wife's, and he regretted not being able to talk to her about
it. While conversation between him and his stepson had so far largely been
limited to smalltalk, he might even at that point have discussed his day
with Thomas, but he feared waking his wife, so the two men sat in silence,
watching the TV.
After a while, Thomas went back up the stairs. Like his wife, Paul didn't
think anything of it; Thomas seemed to spend most of his time at home up
there anyway.
Thomas knocked softly on his little brother's door. "Alex, I want to talk
to you." There was no answer. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you before.
Come on, open up." Still no response. "I was just mad because you went in
my room when I wasn't there. It's no big deal." Silence. He knocked
again. "Alex?" he asked again, but Alexander didn't respond. Nor could he
have - he had cried himself to sleep.
Thomas started to head back downstairs, then thought better of it and went
into his room. He opened a book and tried to study, but it was useless; he
couldn't concentrate. Finally, he laid down with the lights off and
listened to the radio. He could talk to Alex tomorrow, he thought, guilt
weighing on him like an anchor. He reviewed football plays in his mind (it
was odd that he could remember those, but not his schoolwork), and
eventually those thoughts chased the guilt away. After a while, he kicked
his shoes off and fell asleep himself, with the radio still on.
Paul put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator when he was done and sat
watching TV till about eleven, silently hoping that his wife would wake up.
When she didn't, he turned the set off and started to carry her upstairs.
She woke up then, at least partway, and walked up under her own power,
leaning on him. They undressed and fell asleep immediately.
Alex dreamed of food, as often happens when one goes to bed hungry, and woke
up around midnight, ravenous. He went downstairs and found the pizza in the
refrigerator. He ate a couple slices and washed them down with milk, then
went back upstairs and changed into his PJ's, since he felt weird wearing
his street clothes at night. He remembered what he had done to Thomas and
cried again. After a while, he fell back to sleep.
----
The next morning, Mrs. Harris woke up early and kissed her husband till he
was awake too. (It must be said that this is the best possible way to wake
up.) She was feeling frisky and soon got him in the mood as well. While
both were conscious of the time, they made love as slowly as possible. They
were accustomed to being quiet with two boys in the house. When they were
done, they showered together, having found that to be a nice way to extend
the closeness. They were very much in love. They spoke little.
Sandra went out and knocked on both boys' doors loudly, knocking
particularly hard on her own son's door, since he was difficult to wake up
in the morning. "Get up, guys!" she shouted, "breakfast in 20 minutes!"
She was like a drill sergeant. She went downstairs in her bathrobe to fix
breakfast. Mr. Harris remained upstairs in the master bath getting ready.
Alexander got up before Thomas as he always did and went right into the hall
bathroom, knowing that if he didn't get in there first he would have a hard
time getting in later. He relieved himself and washed his face and hands.
Before he was done, Thomas, again as usual, knocked on the door. Alex wiped
his face and left, sliding quickly past his brother, looking at the floor.
Usually he would say "good morning," but not today. He just wanted to get
out of Thomas' sight as fast as possible.
Thomas was not awake enough to notice the way Alexander was acting. He also
relieved himself, then washed his hands and went downstairs to breakfast.
Sandra had made bacon and eggs, so Tom knew that she and Paul had had sex;
usually they just had cereal and toast. At first, the thought of his mother
having sex with a man in their house had bothered him, but he realized that
over the years since her divorce she had hardly lived in a convent, though
she had been very discreet. He understood that she loved Paul and that he
made her happy, but it still discomfited him somewhat when she spread her
afterglow around with elaborate breakfasts. Sometimes after a particularly
good night she would make pancakes (which Alexander loved) or omelettes
(Paul's favorite).
She reminded Thomas as usual to close his robe, which he always failed to
do. After a while, Alexander came downstairs, already fully dressed, again
as usual, and took his usual seat at the table opposite Thomas, not looking
at him. Thomas remembered why Alexander was upset, and his guilt returned.
Finally, Mr. Harris came down in his suit and tie, and Sandra made him sit
down and eat with the family, a daily ritual. He had two eggs, hard, two
slices of bacon, crisp, and coffee. Sandra had one egg, medium, no bacon,
one slice of toast, and coffee. Alexander hated eggs and had a bowl of
Cheerios, three slices of bacon, crisp, and a glass of orange juice. Thomas
had three eggs, soft, five slices of bacon, medium, three slices of toast,
burnt, a tumbler of orange juice, and coffee. The adults tried to engage
the boys in conversation, since with Sandra's hours breakfast was the
family's regular time together rather than supper. Each boy replied in
monosyllables, however, making conversation impossible. Alexander never
looked up from his bowl, and Thomas was always looking either at his plate
or at Alex. Finally, the adults gave up and exchanged horror stories about
their previous days at work. At length, Paul got up, kissed his wife
goodbye, and left.
Sandra resumed her effort to engage the boys in conversation, since by now
her infallible instinct told her that something was up between them, and
from the looks of it Alex had a problem that they were keeping secret from
her. She had no more success alone than she had had when her husband had
been backing her up, however, though she asked more pointed questions.
Alexander soon got up, put his dishes in the sink, and left. His father had
not had a dishwasher at their old apartment, and the boy still hadn't gotten
used to it. Sandra thought of reminding him to rinse them off and put them
in the dishwasher instead, but as always she was loath to discipline
Alexander.
That left her alone with her own son. She got right to the point: "Thomas,
what's wrong with Alex?"
"He seems fine to me," Thomas replied dishonestly.
She was having none of that. She remembered that Alex had not come down to
supper yesterday. "Did you hurt him yesterday, horsing around?" she
ventured. She knew her son was strong as an ox and could easily break
Alexander in two.
"No, ma," he answered.
She wasn't buying it; she knew when her son was lying, and he was doing it
now. "Don't give me that," she replied harshly. "I can see how he is, and
you looking like you're all worried about him. Jesus, Thomas, you ought to
learn your own strength. He's only ten years old, and he's a lot more
delicate than you were at that age."
"Yes, ma."
Sandra wasn't done. "You could break his neck, Thomas, without meaning to.
Now, I like the way you play with him, but you got to be more careful. Why
don't you teach him to play baseball, instead of wrestling with him? I bet
he can't catch or hit either one," she added disgustedly.
"Okay, ma."
"Teach him how to shoot baskets. I got you that hoop over the garage, and
you never use it any more." She paused. "What did you do? Try to play
football with him?"
"I don't know." He stared at his plate. He had a feeling this wasn't going
to stop soon, not the way his mother was getting warmed up.
She frowned at her son. "You don't know?!" she nearly yelled, then calmed
herself, hesitating to yell at Thomas about Alex, when Alex was still in the
house and possibly listening. "You know exactly what happened, Thomas
Wallace," she hissed. She got up, taking her plate into the kitchen and
rinsing it off. Thomas wolfed down the last of his toast and got up too,
hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.
"What do you think, Thomas," she said angrily, "that Alex is some little toy
for you to play with? I *thought* I raised you better than that." She
rinsed off her plate and placed it in the dishwasher, which was already
strangely full.
"No, ma." Thomas rinsed off his plate too.
She faced him between the dishwasher and the sink, and in a way it was funny
to see a 5'5" woman looking up at her 6'3" son, him cowering before her.
"Well, he's not," she declared, ignoring his response, "he's a *human
being*, and you're going to take care of him, you hear me, Thomas Wallace?"
"Yes, ma'am." She got out of his way, and he put his dish in the
dishwasher, but he knew enough not to try to walk away.
She calmed down somewhat. "He's your little brother now, Thomas," she
explained, "and he likes you a lot. He looks up to you. You could do a lot
for him." Her son simply looked at her, waiting for the storm to pass.
"You're just the right thing for him. Alex needs someone to make a man of
him. God knows his father hasn't done it," she confided.
"Okay, ma."
She put her small hands on her son's broad shoulders, and they seemed
heavier to him than the 250-pound weights he lifted. "Thomas, I need you to
help me in this. You're getting older, and you should understand these
things. Alex's father has not paid enough attention to him, and he needs us
to straighten him out. Not that Paul doesn't love his son, you understand."
"Yes, ma, I know he does."
"I love Paul, but he doesn't know the first thing about raising kids. You
need to show Alex what it means to be a man. Make him strong, like you
are. I will not have him grow up to be a wimp."
"Yes, ma'am."
"But don't hurt him." She shook her head. "You have to learn to control
your strength, Thomas. If you hurt him again, I'll wring your neck!" The
utter impossibility of this small woman twisting the powerful cords of
*that* neck would have struck an impartial observer as hilarious, but both
Sandra and her son remained absolutely serious. "Do you understand me,
Thomas Wallace?"
"Yes, ma'am, I understand."
"And you'll do what I say?"
"Yes, ma'am, I will."
She was satisfied. "All right, go on up and get ready for school. And
don't take forever in the shower."
Thomas left feeling relieved; it could have been far worse. As he showered,
however, the relief vanished. He now felt more responsible for - and more
guilty toward - Alexander than ever. He resolved to apologize to Alex, face
to face, at the earliest opportunity. He would teach Alex to shoot baskets
and catch a baseball like his mother said. That issue resolved, his mind
turned to the SAT that he couldn't seem to pass. He had one more chance.
He could take the test again in six weeks. He would give up dating, maybe
even skip practice now and then, and he would study as hard as he could,
staying up all night if necessary. There were books he could buy to study
with, and he would get one. He had to pass this time.
By the time Thomas got downstairs again, Alex was already gone. He had told
Sandra that he had to meet some friends from school. Thomas set off himself
soon after. Sandra rinsed off Alex's dishes and put them in the dishwasher
and started it, then dressed herself, Regis and Cathie Lee playing in the
background on the bedroom TV.
Alexander got to school over half an hour early and swung on the swingset.
He resolved that he would get used to not having a brother again. After
all, it would just be like it was before his father remarried, he thought.
Eventually, one of his friends arrived, and they played for a while
together, enabling him, for a while, to forget all about Thomas.
----
Alexander got home from school, as usual, before Thomas. He watched TV for
a while, then when he heard Thomas coming, he ran up to his room, closed the
door, and did his homework, acting out a plan he had come up with during the
day. Unfortunately, he didn't have much homework to do, being only in the
fifth grade, and that bit was easy for him. He settled on his bed and
reread some old childhood books, long outgrown, just to kill time.
Eventually he got bored with that and plowed into "Little Women," which a
particularly dotty aunt had given him several Christmases ago.
Thomas came home and went to the refrigerator for a snack, finishing up the
leftover pizza. He knew he had to talk to Alex, but he put it off, sitting
in front of the TV for a while. Finally, Thomas went upstairs. He knocked
on Alex's door. "Alex, I want to talk to you," he said.
"What do you want?" the younger boy asked.
Thomas thought of coming in, since Alex didn't usually lock his door, but he
thought better of it. "Um, about yesterday, it wasn't so bad," he said.
Alex didn't say anything. Thomas pressed on: "Come on out, we can play
baseball or something."
Alex wondered at that. "We're not supposed to," he finally replied.
Thomas opened the door and looked in, but didn't enter. Alexander closed
the book swiftly and hid it under his back. "What do you mean, we're not
supposed to?"
"We're not brothers any more," Alex replied, looking away.
"Sure we are," Thomas said, suddenly remembering what he had said.
"No we're not," Alex answered, "you said."
"Look, Alex, I'm sorry I said that, I didn't mean it. So come on, let's go
out back."
For a moment, Alex looked at Thomas, wanting very much to go with him, but
he knew he couldn't. He would only hurt Thomas again and make him mad. He
turned away, saying, "I can't, I'm busy."
Then Thomas was mad all over again. "All right, be a brat then. I tried to
be nice." He closed the door and walked off. Alexander tried to get back
to reading the book, but tears blurred his vision.
Thomas plowed into his studies. After a while, he forgot all about
Alexander.
Mrs. Harris got home at her usual time and made macaroni and cheese for
supper, real macaroni and cheese, not the box kind. It was one of Alex's
favorites, and he liked the homemade kind even better. The three of them
ate in silence, then Thomas went back upstairs to study some more, and Alex
settled in the living room to watch TV with Sandra. Mr. Harris came home at
his usual time, received the usual pro forma kiss from Alex, and Sandra
heated up his dinner. Paul ate while Alex took his bath upstairs.
Afterwards, the three of them watched TV together as usual, with the two
middle-aged lovebirds doing most of the talking. Alexander spoke only when
interrogated, and only in short phrases, but that was normal for him.
Thomas did not come downstairs again.
----
----
The next day at breakfast was just as quiet as the previous one, and Sandra
was getting worried. This time, however, she wasn't as sure as before about
the cause, especially since both boys now seemed to be ignoring each other.
She didn't say anything. Paul didn't notice anything unusual, but then men
are generally pretty dense about these things, and he was denser than most.
Alexander left early for school again, giving the same excuse; Sandra was
about to question him about it, but he was already out the door. Thomas
came downstairs at the very last minute, as he often did, and there wasn't
time to interrogate him.
Sandra, not knowing what to do, searched both boys' rooms. It was the first
time she had searched Alex's room, and she felt odd about doing it, but she
reminded herself that he was her son now, too. She didn't find anything out
of the ordinary, and in fact Alex was almost too neat. Thomas' room was
beginning to return to its normal state. She didn't find any drugs,
thankfully, and everything else seemed to be pretty much in order (or out of
it), except that some of his clothes seemed to be missing. He was at long
last putting them in the hamper, she concluded, but did not check her
surmise.
She went back downstairs with no more answers than she had when she went up.
Finally, she shrugged her shoulders. Obviously, they had had a fight. They
would get over it after a while. After all, they were inseparable. She
went to work.
Alex came home and watched TV as before. Today was a practice day, so
Thomas wouldn't be home for a while. By now, Alex had a plan worked out.
On Thomas' practice days, he would be able to come home. When he didn't
have practice, Alex would play with friends at their houses. He would be
nearly invisible to Thomas. When Thomas came home, Alex ran up to his room
again, but he didn't have to stay there long, since Thomas went right up to
his own room and began studying. Shortly after that, Sandra got home, and
they ate a silent supper.
----
This went on for a week, with Sandra, and eventually Paul, getting more and
more worried. Paul tried to talk to Alex at his wife's urging, but that had
very little result. Sandra didn't feel she could talk to Thomas again
without more information. Both were incredibly busy at work, however, and
they were unable to pay full attention to issues on the home front.
Thomas stayed in his room, finally explaining to his mother that he was
studying for a big test. He didn't tell her which one, and she wouldn't
have known to ask since she had never been to college herself and didn't
know about the SAT. At any rate, his explanation was satisfactory to her.
By Friday, Alex missed Thomas terribly and took to sneaking down the hall.
The seventeen-year-old generally left his door open a bit. Alex could see
the bed but not the desk where his brother was sitting. He would listen
quietly. Sometimes, his brother would repeat things to himself as he read:
"Filibuster is where the senators keep talking so a bill won't pass." "The
square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the two
opposite sides." Alex wished he had Thomas for his brother still; he wanted
to hear that voice talking to him again.
Saturday morning, Paul proposed to Sandra that they go off together. They
could fly off that morning, stay over Sunday, and come back Monday. They
were both worn out, he pointed out. Sandra was both put off and enticed by
Paul's suggestion. She argued half-heartedly that they wouldn't get back in
time for work on Monday. Well, they would take Monday off, then, her
husband replied; that would give them an extra day. They'd go to the hotel
in Lake Tahoe where they'd spent their honeymoon. What about Alex and
Thomas? she asked. Thomas can take care of Alex, Paul pointed out, adding
jokingly that with their parents away they would be forced to kiss and make
up. Sandra agreed at last, and the plan was sprung on the boys at
breakfast. Thomas promised his mother to take care of things. Alex
promised his father to be good and do what Thomas said. By nine o'clock,
Paul and Sandra were out the door on their way to the airport.
The boys cleaned up the breakfast dishes without a word, except when Thomas
reminded Alex to rinse his off and put them in the dishwasher, which he did.
Thomas went upstairs to study. Alex went out to see if his friend Scott was
home. He was. They played war with Scott's toy tanks, then decided it
would be better at a nearby construction site, where there were mounds of
fresh dirt available. They tired of that after a while and explored a
nearby creekbed, trying to catch stuff. It was getting into autumn, though,
and there wasn't much to catch. They followed the creek up through several
tunnels (culverts), then came back, taking several hours each way. By the
time they got back, Scott's mother was waiting at the door. She sent him
directly to take a bath. Alex went home.
Thomas was still upstairs when he got back, so Alex got some cold hot dogs
out of the refrigerator and ate them, then sat down to watch TV. He got
bored with that after a while and decided that he was dirty enough and wet
enough that Thomas might be mad when he saw him, so he went and took a bath.
Thomas heard the water, momentarily glad that he wouldn't have to tell Alex
to bathe, then went back to his studies. Alex put his pajamas on and went
downstairs to watch his usual shows, sipping on a big cherry float he had
made himself. Around 8:30 Thomas came out to the top of the stairs and told
him to go to bed. Alex did so quietly.
About ten, Thomas put down his book and rubbed his neck. All this studying
was making him crazy. He felt he was making progress, though only a little.
His mind wandered to the last time he had made love to Clara Armstrong -
though perhaps that is the wrong term, since there was little love in it.
One thing she had, though, was big tits. She was only a junior, but she
already had tits that he could suck on forever. He thought of playing with
them, squeezing them, licking them. After the tits, screwing her had been
an anticlimax. Still, he was raging hard, and he hadn't been with a girl in
over two weeks.
There was only one thing for it. Thomas got up and lay down on the bed,
pulling his pants down to his knees, his shirt up to his chest. He sighed
with relief at stretching out his back after all that time bending over
books. He reach over and turned the radio up some. He noticed, dimly, that
his door was still open, but it didn't matter anyway since the parents were
away and Alex was asleep.
Alex, however, was in a light sleep and soon awoke with a powerful need to
piss after all the soda he had drunk. He got up and walked into the
bathroom, thinking absently that his brother's radio was louder than usual.
He closed the bathroom door and took care of things.
On his way back, somewhat more awake, he crept up to Thomas' door and looked
in. At first, all he could see was his older brother's face with his eyes
closed, so he seemed to be asleep. When Alex drew closer, however, he
realized that Thomas was moving.
As he stood in the doorway, Alex could see his brother from the knees up and
stood transfixed. He stared at the parts of his brother he had never seen
before, amazed at first more by the shape than the size - Thomas' dick had a
slight curve to it. Everything about his brother seemed totally incredible:
the shape of his penis, its size, its hairiness, and what he was he doing.
And what *was* he doing? It looked like it hurt, but then why did he keep
doing it? The only light in the room was the small one over the desk, so it
was fairly dark. Unconsciously, Alex opened the door a bit more and went
inside.
As he drew nearer, Alex heard his brother moaning softly. He pulled his
pajama bottoms down and looked to compare. He couldn't believe he would
ever look like that. "Whoa," he said, staring.
Thomas opened one eye and saw Alex standing there. There was a split-second
while he absorbed that information, then he jumped about two feet, his hands
at his sides, his erect penis bouncing on his belly, his eyes wide open.
Alex jumped too, wanting to run but unable to take his eyes off his brother.
Thinking quickly for a change, Thomas grabbed Alex by the forearm and held
it tight. At first, he didn't know what to say but knew he should say
something to calm Alex down. "Hey, Alex," he said stupidly, "sit down,
dude."
Alex continued to stare. "I - I should go. I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay, sit down," Thomas said, forcing a smile. Alex didn't move.
"I'm not mad at you. Come on." He grinned wider.
Alex sat down then, but Thomas still held onto his arm to make sure he
wouldn't run away. This wasn't the way Thomas had expected to make up with
his little brother, but he had to go with it; it was either that, or scare
Alex so bad that they would never be friends again. "Looks pretty weird,
huh?" Thomas asked.
Alex realized he was staring at his brother's private parts and turned
quickly away. "I guess so," he confirmed, adding: "I'm sorry I looked, but
your door was open, and ...."
"Don't be sorry," Thomas said. "I'm not mad at you. I was just surprised,
is all. It's my fault I left the door open. I guess I thought you were
asleep."
"Well, I woke up to go to the bathroom." Alex twisted his arm a bit, and
Thomas let him go, somewhat but not entirely sure that he wouldn't run away.
He didn't. The ten-year-old was clearly fascinated with Thomas' body and
kept stealing looks. Thomas decided to leave his pants down so Alex could
satisfy his curiosity. He was softening now, and Alex was fascinated by the
process. Soon he was back to staring in earnest.
"It's called a hardon," Thomas said. "Most guys get them occasionally, but
when you get older you get them a lot." It had not escaped him that Alex's
pajama bottoms were down, and Thomas correctly deduced that he had been
comparing himself to his brother. He avoided calling attention to it,
however, to keep from making Alex self-conscious.
"I've had one of those before," Alex said. He had said it to impress
Thomas, but he was immediately afraid that it made him seem bad instead.
Thomas smiled again, and Alex was relieved. "It's normal," he said.
"Sometimes it happens when you have to piss real bad. When you get older,
it happens when you think about girls."
"Were you thinking about girls?"
"Yeah, I was, little dude. Like in the magazines under my bed." He
grinned.
Alex blushed from ear to ear. He remembered them quite well, and he
remembered how mad his brother was when he went in his room to find them.
"Yeah, I know," he said, just to say something, since Thomas was staring at
him, waiting for him to talk.
"Oh, yeah, what do you know?" Thomas replied, laughing. He rolled over and
started tickling Alex unmercifully. Alex erupted in shrieks of laughter.
"What do you know? What do you know?" Thomas taunted him, as he continued
to tickle. Alex screamed and squirmed, unable to catch his breath, but
conscious through it all of his brother's thingy (now soft) rubbing on his
thigh.
Finally, Thomas stopped tickling and rolled over on his back again. Alex
was left lying on the bed with his pajama bottoms at his ankles, his feet
hanging off the edge of the bed, his head near Thomas' shoulder. "You want
to see them?" Thomas asked.
Alex was still panting for breath, so it took him a moment to answer.
"Yeah," he said, "can I?"
"Sure, dude." Thomas got up and removed his pants and shorts all the way.
He was glad to see Alex smiling again and smiled back. Alex kicked his
pajama bottoms off and arranged himself more comfortably on the bed. It
seemed like old times.
Thomas went over to the other side of the bed, knelt down, and lifted the
mattress (you didn't think he'd leave his magazines on the chair, did you?).
As he was doing so, Alex asked him, "Are we brothers again? I mean, can we?
You know, be brothers, like before?" Thomas heart sank as he remembered the
cruel thing he had said, but he couldn't really answer when he was holding
up the mattress with one arm and fishing out magazines with the other.
Finally he had them all out. He lowered the mattress and looked at Alex
with a serious expression. Still kneeling on the floor, he tried to
explain. "Look, Alex, I mean, of course we're brothers, and we're always
going to be. I'm sorry about what I said, I was just mad. So forget about
it, okay?"
"Okay," Alex said, just as seriously, but as soon as Thomas turned away and
went to pick the magazines off the floor, Alex was beaming. He had his big
brother back!
Thomas got up and looked at Alex, feeling much better to see his little
brother smiling after the way he had been moping around the house for the
past few days. Thomas felt responsible for him, and not because his mother
said he was. It was an entirely new feeling, but not a bad one. It seemed
to bind him, tie him to things outside his immediate interest, but it made
him feel powerful and good. He held the stack of magazines in both hands
and jumped on the bed with a bounce, making Alex giggle. Thomas laid down
next to Alex. The younger boy grabbed an arm and put it behind his head.
Thomas, taking the hint, snuggled up close. It might have seemed strange to
him to be in bed with Alex this way if he had thought about it, but Thomas
was as relieved as Alex to get this guilt off his shoulders.
The teenager put the stack of magazines beside him and picked up the first
one. "Did you look at this one?" he asked.
"I didn't really look at them, I just closed them up and put them in the
chair," Alex answered. Thomas looked at his face only inches away and
decided he was telling the truth, which he was.
Thomas cleared his throat in amazement. "Well, let me show you what you
were missing, then," he said. He took the magazine in both hands above
their heads and opened it up, realizing that in this position they were
ideally situated so that they could both look. He opened the book to some
pictures of a beautiful - no, gorgeous - blonde woman in lingerie. "Not
bad, eh?"
"Not bad," Alex echoed. She didn't seem so special to him, but he liked
being close to his brother and wanted this to continue.
Thomas turned the page. The woman looked coyly over her shoulder as she
lowered her panties. She pulled one strap of her top down over the
shoulder, exposing a nipple. "Isn't she fine?" Thomas asked.
"Yeah," Alex said.
Thomas nodded. He was starting to get hard again - Alex, after all, had
interrupted him. He turned the page again, and the woman was lying naked on
a beach. The first photo showed her from the waist up, her full breasts
almost sliding off her chest, her face an image of rapture. On the opposite
page, she was leaning against a rock, facing forward, her smooth butt
glistening with sweat or seawater, her legs spread, looking back over her
shoulder with her lips pursed. "She's hot," Thomas said, "really hot."
"Yeah, she's hot," Alex mimicked, looking at his brother. He seemed to
notice something hanging between the woman's legs, but he didn't want to ask
about it to avoid sounding ignorant.
Thomas was almost fully hard again. (Alex didn't notice; he was looking at
the magazine and at his brother's face.) He turned the page and unfolded
it. The woman was lying face up on the beach, completely naked, and the
picture showed her from the knees up.
"She's hairy too," Alex said. It was a simple observation, though a
wondering one.
Thomas turned and looked at him. He never suspected his little brother was
so innocent. "That's her cunt," he said. "Women grow hair on their cunts.
You never saw a woman's cunt before?"
"No," Alex admitted.
"Wait a minute," Thomas said. He closed that magazine and set it aside,
then pulled his arm out from behind Alex to fish through the other
magazines. Alex sat up and watched. Thomas found the magazine he wanted
and laid back down with his arm out. Alex laid back down on Thomas' arm and
the teenager opened the second magazine. It was a _Penthouse_. He leafed
through it rather quickly, and there were pictures Alexander would have
wanted to look at more closely, but the younger boy didn't say anything.
Thomas found the picture he wanted. It was a naked woman, seated,
reclining, with her legs apart. There was hair all between her legs as well
as above them as in the other picture. "What's that?" Alex asked, pointing
to the pink line that ran down the middle - visible, perhaps, because the
woman was a natural blonde.
"That's her pussy, her cunt."
"A man sticks his dick in there," Alexander said knowingly.
"That's right. That's called fucking," Thomas said, now fully hard. He
began to regret the distraction of his little brother since he wanted to
beat off now, but he was prepared to delay it for a while longer to make up
with Alex.
"Where's the man?" the ten-year-old asked.
Thomas looked at him, and Alex grinned impishly - inquisitive little shit,
he should have expected this. "There's no man in this one. You imagine
*you're* the man."
Alexander wasn't seem pleased by that. "Do you have one with a man and a
woman together?" he asked. The thought of that excited him, though he
wasn't even beginning to get hard yet.
Thomas leafed further through the magazine, finding a gauzy picture of a man
in a tuxedo nibbling on the ear of a shapely woman in lingerie; both were
holding wine glasses. The next picture showed him with his tuxedo jacket
and tie off, his collar open, playing with the woman's breasts through the
lingerie. Her head was thrown back. "Like that?" Thomas asked.
"Yeah," Alex said. His little penis was beginning to stir. He reached up
to turn the page. Thomas obliged. In the next picture, the man had his
shirt and cummerbund off. The woman was facing him, undoing his pants. He
had her tits out of the nightie and was playing with them with both hands.
They kissed. "He has hair on his chest," Alexander observed.
"Men grow hair on their chests when they get older," Thomas replied, feeling
oddly self-conscious since he didn't have any. "She has nice tits, don't
you think?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
It didn't work. "So you're not a man yet?" Alex asked. "Or he's just older
than you are, I guess."
"I'm pretty much a man now," Thomas replied. "It doesn't all happen at
once. A lot of things change when you become a man, and it takes time."
"Well, I like you better this way," Alexander said, kissing his brother on
the cheek.
This was a *very* bad time to be kissed by your little brother. Thomas
turned rapidly to face him, but Alex was just smiling impishly. He was
still at the stage where he would exchange kisses with adults, and he had
kissed Thomas on numerous occasions; Alex just didn't like to kiss people in
public so much any more. The way Alexander was smiling, Thomas realized
that he didn't mean anything by it, at least he didn't mean what a kiss
would normally mean under these circumstances. Thomas briefly considered
trying to explain to Alex that he shouldn't kiss him, at least not *now*,
but it would involve a very long explanation that Alex might not understand.
He decided to let it pass, but needless to say he didn't return the kiss.
Alex broke the silence. "Turn the page," he said. Thomas did so. In this
one, the man's trousers were open. The woman was lying on her back on the
base of a bed, the top of her nightie pushed up to her shoulders. The man
was leaning over her, sucking on one of her tits. On the opposing page, the
man had his pants pulled down. He was removing the woman's panties. Alex
could see she had hair like the other woman, and the man had hair like
Thomas. Thomas moved to turn the page again, but Alex reached up to stop
him. "He has hair on his legs too, like you. I'm more like her," he said.
Thomas stared at his brother. "You're a man like him! What do you mean,
you're like her?"
Alexander felt uncomfortable. "Well, she doesn't have hair like me. On her
legs and under her arms and stuff."
"That's because you're still a boy," Thomas explained. "Women really have
hair under their arms and on their legs, they just shave it off because
they're more sexy that way. But you're like him - at least when you grow up
you will be."
Alexander nodded. His brother seemed to know everything, and he was usually
right, but Alex couldn't picture himself looking like the man in the
picture. He felt his own legs. They didn't have any hair. He wondered if
that made him more sexy. "Okay, you can turn the page now," he said.
Thomas obeyed. He actually preferred the pictures that didn't have a man in
them, but this was a hot one. The woman was lying on the bed, her panties
off, the top of her nightie pushed up to her shoulders, her legs up. The
look on her face was one of insatiable lust. The man was holding his cock
at the base with one hand, pushing it in, his trousers bunched at the knees.
On the opposite page, the man was lying on top of the woman, his hips held
tightly against her. "That's fucking," Thomas said.
Alex stared. The woman's eyes were closed, her face twisted with lust,
which he guessed from seeing his brother before meant she was happy, though
she didn't look it at first glance. The man was looking down at her, a
slight smile on his partially-open mouth; he was definitely pleased. By
now, both boys were hard, though the tutorial session distracted Thomas so
that he did not produce any precum, as he normally would have by this point.
"Show me another one," Alex said.
Thomas looked at Alex, then glanced down to see that his little prick was
standing at attention. The older boy really wanted Alex out of there, but
he realized this was probably the first time the ten-year-old had ever
thought about sex, so it had to be treated delicately. Thomas tried to
remember the first time he ever got a hardon thinking about girls, but it
escaped him. At any rate, he got up again, and Alex sat up again and
watched as Thomas sorted through the magazines. He selected a copy of
_Hustler_. They settled back as they were before.
This one was more explicit, of course, than either of the earlier ones.
Alex stopped Thomas while he was leafing through when they got to a "pink
shot." "What's that?" he asked.
"She's showing the inside of her cunt," Thomas explained.
"Wow," Alex said appreciatively. "Okay, go on."
Shortly, Alex stopped Thomas again. "She doesn't have any hair," he said.
"She shaved it off," Thomas replied. "Some women shave it because it makes
sex better. See that?" he pointed.
"That?" Alex pointed too.
"Yeah. That's her clitoris. That's what gets women hot when they get
fucked. Or you can lick it, and that gets them off too."
"Suzie Miller doesn't have any hair down there," Alex said, wanting to show
that he knew *something*. She had shown the boys what she had one
afternoon; she was kind of a tomboy and played with them all the time
anyway, and they had goaded her until she showed them. That was back in
third grade.
"Little girls don't have hair on their bodies. They're like little boys,"
Thomas explained.
"Okay, go on," Alexander said, not very happy about being called a little
boy. His brother called him "little dude" all the time, but "little boy"
was different and somehow demeaning.
Thomas continued to leaf through the magazine till he got to the pictures he
wanted. In these, the man and woman were both naked on a bed. He was on
top of her, her legs up like the other woman. The man was obviously older
and not very good-looking, Alex thought. What interested him, though, were
the closeups: they clearly showed the man's dick disappearing into the
woman, leaving no doubt about the nature of the act. Alex stared, taking it
all in.
Suddenly Thomas closed the magazine. He wanted to get Alex out of there.
"That's enough for tonight," he said. He saw the disappointed look on his
little brother's face and added, "I'll show you more later." He put the
magazine down and pulled his arm out from behind Alex.
Alex propped himself on an elbow but didn't leave. "Are you gonna do what
you were doing before?" he asked.
"Yes, Alex, and I need to be alone."
"Well, can I watch? I'll be really quiet."
"Alex, no," Thomas said.
"Why not? I won't tell anybody."
Thomas looked at Alex and realized that he'd have to physically throw him
out to get him out of there. "Shit," he said, rolling his eyes. "All
right, you can watch." He looked at his little brother grinning beside him.
"You can try this yourself sometime - I guess it will be a while before you
get a girl." Alex nodded seriously; he never ignored his older brother's
counsel.
Thomas immediately closed his eyes and started to stroke, thinking of the
women in the magazine, and of girls he had dated that wouldn't put out. He
jacked with a slow, even rhythm, trying to work up to greater arousal, but
while he was turned on, there was a point beyond which he couldn't go. He
understood the reason - his little brother was staring at him.
Alex was hard, and Thomas figured he'd stop staring at him if he pulled on
his own little dink. He opened his eyes again and turned to the boy. "Why
don't you try it?" he suggested.
To Thomas' surprise, Alex responded, not by reaching for his own prick, but
by taking hold of Thomas'. "Alex," he began, starting to explain what he
meant, but his feelings stopped him. His little brother was jacking him off
good and proper, using the same slow rhythm he had been using on himself.
Thomas had been jacked off by many a girl, especially the fancy ones who
wouldn't let him fuck them, but Alexander's hand was the softest he had ever
felt.
"What?" Alex asked.
"Um, do it faster," Thomas replied. Alexander sped up some. "Yeah, that's
good," the older boy said, his eyes closed. "You can play with my balls
with your other hand, if you want."
The ten-year-old readily complied, touching and kneading his older brother's
balls as he continued to jack him off. He felt under them and realized that
Thomas had hair between his legs like the women in the magazine, but he
didn't have a cunt.
"Yeah, go faster now," Thomas prompted, his eyes closed, breathing faster.
"Use both hands on my cock."
Alexander sat astraddle one of Thomas' legs to get better leverage, and
pumped the seventeen-year-old for all he was worth. Thomas kept trying to
sort out images of women in his mind, trying to find one that would fit this
sensation, but he kept coming back to the reality - little Alex with his
pajama bottoms off, accidentally humping his thigh as he jacked his brother
off with his soft little hands. Finally, Thomas opened his eyes to see that
Alex was looking into his own. "Go a little faster now, kid," he said
gutturally, "as fast as you can."
Alex obeyed eagerly, his rump bouncing off Thomas' thigh as he masturbated
him. It was exhausting work, and he wondered how long Thomas wanted him to
do this. The top of Thomas' dick had gotten slippery, and Alex smeared the
slippery stuff further down since that seemed to make it easier.
Finally, Thomas closed his eyes again and said "oh, fuck," in a quiet voice.
He arched his back and shot, hitting himself in the nose, chin and neck.
Alex dropped the cock like it was a red-hot iron, afraid he had hurt his
brother somehow. Another shot came out after that, much smaller than the
first. "Keep going!" Thomas commanded loudly. Alex started stroking again.
"Fast!" came the order. Alex obeyed it, and soon there were three more
spurts and several subsequent dribbles.
Thomas told Alex to stop. The boy sat back on his older brother's leg. At
first he thought that his brother was pissing, but then he saw that this
stuff was white, not yellow, and he realized that this must be cum, the
subject of many playground jokes that he repeated but didn't understand.
(Alex, after all, was not a dull boy.) It was all over his hands.
Thomas opened his eyes again and smeared the stuff away from his nose and
mouth with one hand. "That was real good, kid, thanks," he said smiling.
Mischievously he added, "Aren't you gonna clean me off?"
Alex started to get up to get a washrag out of the bathroom, but Thomas
grabbed his arm again, this time above the elbow, and pulled him back down.
"I was only kidding, dude," he said. He sat up carefully and pulled off his
shirt, already dotted with cum, and wiped himself off with it. "Some women
like the taste of it, and they lick it off your body," he explained.
Alexander looked at his hands. Thomas took each hand by the wrist and wiped
it off with the shirt.
Thomas saw that Alex was still hard. "You want to try it?" he asked,
smiling. Alex looked at him for a little bit and nodded. "Okay, you lie
down and I'll do you."
Alex lay down on his back like his brother had done. Thomas found a
particularly wet part of the shirt and lubed the little cocklet with it,
then started stroking the younger boy slowly and gently. Alex watched with
his eyes wide open, not wanting to miss anything.
Thomas got over him and slid him over more to the center of the bed, then
crouched over Alex, jacking him off slowly. Thomas didn't know whether Alex
could experience anything remotely like he did, but he had a kind of
perverse curiosity about it. He started stroking the little ballsac,
feeling the hairless space between his little brother's legs. Thomas noted
that Alex was breathing a bit faster - little shit *could* get off, it
seemed.
The teenager tried going faster on the cocklet (only two fingers and a thumb
would fit), but while Alex was clearly enjoying it, it didn't seem to get
him off any more. On the off chance, Thomas left off with Alex's balls and
felt his thigh. The boy responded immediately, moaning softly. Grinning,
Thomas wrapped his hand around Alex' thigh and squeezed it gently, amazed at
how soft it was - much better than any girl's. He stroked it a few times,
keeping up the motion on the younger boy's cock. "You like that?" he asked.
"Yeah," Alex said simply, his eyes closing.
After a while, Thomas moved up to his kid brother's hip, more out of
curiosity than anything, kneading the tender softness of his buttock.
"Mmmm," Alex purred.
Thomas started to jack off Alex faster again, at the same time reaching
underneath and cupping the little ass cheek in his hand. That set Alex off
at once. He sucked in his stomach so that there seemed to be almost nothing
left of him between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his pelvis,
shoved his hips upward, and hummed (well, it wasn't quite humming, but
that's the only way to describe it). Thomas felt the boy's hips tighten up
a few times, and that was it - no ejaculation, of course. Thomas stopped.
Alex opened his eyes.
"Did you like that?" Thomas asked.
"Yeah," Alex said, smiling up at him. It was the best possible thing.
"That's called 'jacking off.' You can do it by yourself."
"That's what you were doing when I came in?"
"That's what I was doing."
Alexander seemed to be thinking about that. Thomas got off of him and said,
"All right, little dude, you should get back to bed now." Alex sat up but
didn't go anywhere. As usual, he wanted to stay. "Don't tell anybody what
we did tonight, okay?" Thomas added. "It's private."
"Okay, I won't," Alex affirmed.
"So go on, then, I gotta get to sleep," Thomas said, pushing Alex on the
shoulder and turning on his side, away from Alex.
"Can I stay here tonight?" the ten-year-old asked.
Thomas looked back at him. Alex had that totally pleading look on his face
that the teenager could not resist. Thomas sighed. "All right, just keep
quiet." Alex grinned broadly. "Turn out the light," the older boy said.
Alex got up obediently and turned the light off. As he leaned over the
desk, Thomas noted that Alex was pretty cute - no, *very* cute. He would
have plenty of girls in a few years, probably too many for his own good;
boys who got too involved with girls at too young an age, Thomas knew,
tended to stay little boys. There was not a name for them, but everybody
knew who they were, and the jocks despised them. He didn't want Alex to
turn out like that. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Thomas took his
socks off so his feet wouldn't get hot.
As the two boys climbed under the covers, one naked, the other wearing only
a pajama top, another furtive thought crept into Thomas' mind. The kid
wasn't half bad at jacking him off, either.
They pretty much slept soundly the rest of the night. Alex kept trying to
get close to Thomas, who kept pushing him away. Thomas finally gave up and
let Alex nuzzle up next to him, and when he did that the younger boy was out
like a light. Finally, Thomas put an arm around him and fell asleep
himself.
----
Alexander woke up sprawled over a soundly sleeping Thomas and laid there for
a while, snuggling with his unconscious brother, his pajama tops bunched
uncomfortably under his armpits, the covers pushed down so that they rested
across Alexander's butt. Eventually, he got hungry and pushed off as
quietly as he could. Thomas shifted in his sleep, and Alex waited a while
to make sure he wouldn't move again, then got out of bed.
He straighted out his pajama top, then remembered that he didn't have any
bottoms on. He looked at his older brother, who was naked. Alexander
decided he wanted to be naked like Thomas. He felt naughty as he took his
top off, tossing it on the floor with the other discarded clothes - but then
he was naughty like his older brother, which made him feel big like him. He
went downstairs and poured himself some Wheaties. Paul and Sandra didn't
think sugary cereals were a good thing, so Alex soaked the flakes with milk,
then coated them with a hefty amount of sugar. It was strange walking
around the house naked, but not bad, though he was a bit cold, especially
after he started eating cold cereal. He shivered a little but endured it.
Thomas woke up gradually. He had had the most amazing dreams, all about
women. In the last dream he had, the one that he remembered, he had been
tied to a bed naked, and a gorgeous woman had jumped on top of him. He had
been surprised that he wasn't crushed, but the impact wasn't at all painful;
it was as if she didn't weigh anything at all. He woke up hard, needless to
say, but that was normal for him. He put on his bathrobe absently, failing
to close it as always, and walked into the bathroom. After a while, he was
able to relieve himself.
Always more awake after that, Thomas remembered what had passed the night
before. There was a brief moment of panic, then he remembered also that the
parents were out of town for the weekend. He was glad Alex wasn't still in
bed when he woke up - it would have been awkward. Thomas went downstairs,
trying to think of something to say to Alex if he ran into him, hoping he
wouldn't.
Coming down the stairs, Thomas saw Alex sitting at the kitchen table, naked
as a jaybird. The older boy had a brief childish impulse to run back up to
his room. He overrode it, and in any case Alex had seen him and was smiling
broadly, so the option was foreclosed. As he came down the stairs, Thomas
noticed for the first time that his bathrobe was open, and while he usually
had boxer shorts on under it, he had nothing today. He closed it quickly.
"G'morning," Alex said, as Thomas walked into the kitchen.
"G - don't talk to me till I've had my coffee," Thomas said, finding a way,
he thought, out of a conversation he didn't want to have.
"I'll fix it!" the ten-year-old exclaimed, jumping up and running past
Thomas, grabbing the basket off the coffee maker.
"You don't know how," Thomas replied, sleepily reaching for the basket.
Alex, however, was wide awake and primed with sugar. "Yes I do!" he
declared, grabbing the coffee off the counter and holding it to his chest.
"You just sit down."
"Alex, come on ..." said the groggy teenager.
"Sit down!" Alex ordered, dropping basket and coffee tin on the counter. To
enforce his order, he pushed Thomas back till he was next to the table.
Thomas was amused, as he often was around Alex. "All right," he said,
taking a seat, "you do it."
Alex smiled and ran back to the coffee. He stood on tiptoe and pulled the
plastic lid off the coffee tin. He grabbed the stack of filters and Thomas
waited patiently while he fumbled with them, then took the top one and put
it in the basket. "How many do I use?" Alex asked, holding up the scoop
from the coffee tin. He wanted to get this right, not mess up like he did
with his brother's clothes.
"One," Thomas responded. His dick was starting to get hard again as he
watched his little brother dance around. It had a tendency to do that in
the mornings, though, so he didn't think anything of it.
Alex put one scoop of coffee in the basket and put it back on the coffee
maker. He then took the pot and filled it completely full with water.
"Wait, not that much water," Thomas interjected.
"Huh?"
Thomas got up and walked over to the sink. He tried to take the pot, but
Alex wouldn't let go of it. "For two cups of coffee, you only put in water
up to where it says '2'," he said. He released the pot, and Alex poured out
the excess water.
"Sit back down, I'm doing this," Alex said, somewhat teed off. Thomas
smiled and went back to his seat. Alex decided he had poured out too much
and added a little from the faucet, held it up to his eye, then added a
little more. Satisfied, he poured the water in at the top of the coffee
maker, sat the pot back down underneath, and turned on the machine. He
looked rapidly over his shoulder at Thomas, then went back to watching the
coffee maker.
Thomas sat and watched Alex. He thought of asking why the boy was running
around nude but decided he wasn't prepared for that kind of conversation
this early in the morning. Alex was going to make the coffee, no two ways
about it, and Thomas admitted again that he was a cute kid. Thomas didn't
see what was so wrong about him that his mother thought he needed to be
fixed or whatever; Alex acted normal enough. The teenager had a view of the
naked boy from the side and slightly to the rear. The kid was perfectly
healthy, not skinny but not fat either, somewhat small-boned but
well-proportioned except for his butt, which stuck out a little. His butt
seemed too big for him somehow, but then Thomas, thinking back, realized
that most little boys were that way unless they were so skinny their ribs
stuck out, which Alex's did not. The ten-year-old would occasionally open
the top of the coffee maker, curious about how much of the water had gone
through, and stand on his tiptoes to look, and then his butt would be more
prominent than ever. It only made him cuter.
The face was a different thing entirely. Seen in the light of day, and from
a new perspective, it was the face of an angel. Everything about it was
somehow delicate and ephemeral, and its delicacy seemed new and amazing.
The chin was soft yet pointed, without the heft of a man's, lacking the
superfluous padding that a woman's chin would have. The lips were thin,
small, and naturally reddish-pink against the lightly-tanned skin - a shade
of pink that only the most experienced - and wanton - of girls had managed
to find in a store. The nose pointed up slightly, slender and delicate,
without the full bridge of an adult, but not the bridgeless snout of a baby
either. The eyelashes were long without the use of mascara, covering eyes
that were completely open and clear, without a hint of evasion or guile.
The eyes made Thomas uncomfortable but attracted him at the same time. The
eyebrows were delicate lines drawn tentatively, as Alex raised them to look
in the top of the coffee maker, then drew them down again. The short
forehead ended with disheveled hair, adding an impish charm to the whole, so
that the hair seemed to hide elven pointed ears beneath it.
Thomas was hard as granite, and he knew there could be no other cause but
his little brother, which discomfited him greatly. Alex was incredibly
beautiful, he realized, and there would be no way he would avoid the fate of
other pretty boys - discovered by the girls in one or two years (not three
or four as he had guessed last night), then tossed from girl to girl, played
with like a baby doll, till at last he became one, never truly growing up.
Thomas would have to prevent that, warn his little brother about the games
girls liked to play with a boy's heart. It was his responsibility, and Alex
needed him, though the little brother couldn't possibly know it.
The coffee got done, and Alex got a mug out of the cupboard, again standing
on tiptoe. He carefully poured the coffee out for Thomas, holding the pot
in both hands, then took the mug in both hands and set it down in front of
the teenager, smiling proudly. He walked around and took the other seat at
the small Formica table. This was the kitchen table, not the large wooden
dining room table at which the family normally ate breakfast, and it sat
directly under a window, the sun streaming in at an angle, missing Alex
completely but hitting Thomas full force, making him squint when he looked
outside. A gale was blowing, scattering brown leaves everywhere, rattling
the glass.
Alex resumed eating his cereal (he actually preferred it soft, or as adults
would say soggy, as long as it was still cold from the milk). He looked at
his older brother at first for a while, trying to see if he was mad or not,
then decided he wasn't and dug in.
Once Alex sat down, Thomas pretended to look elsewhere - around the kitchen
for a while, then out the window. He stole looks at Alex from time to time,
still amazed at him as he appraised him anew. The little shoulders and neck
didn't seem strong enough to support the head; they looked so easily crushed
that any gust of wind would blow them away. Alex seemed weak beyond Thomas'
imagination - weaker than any boy in school, weaker even than any girl he
had dated - so weak that he needed to pick up the coffee pot with both hands
for fear he would drop it. It wasn't just that he was ten, either; there
was a delicacy about the boy that was only too obvious when he was seen
naked in the light of day, without the baggy clothes he usually wore. In
the past, that would have made Thomas want to humiliate him, and he knew at
once that Alex would face that too - boys (Alex's age, of course) who were
jocks like Thomas would beat the kid up, take whatever money he had (or
anything else of value), shove him in his locker and lock him in, pour
disgusting things over his head. Thomas thought for a moment that he would
make Alex strong, teach him to fight, to take care of himself, but try as
Thomas might, he could not picture Alex being strong. Well, Thomas thought,
they won't mess with him if they know he's *my* brother - at first
matter-of-factly, then with increasing pride. Not if I'm around, a furtive
thought entered. He thought he might have to attend a local college so that
he could stay home and watch out for him; it didn't seem possible that Alex
would be able to watch out for himself.
Alex, of course, realized none of this and was slurping his soggy cereal
with decision. He was comfortable, and being naked didn't matter as much as
he thought it might, especially since Thomas didn't seem to mind. Although
Alex didn't think of it in those terms, he was comfortable because Thomas
was there. And Thomas was drinking Alex's coffee, which must be good,
otherwise his big brother wouldn't drink it. Alex smiled at the thought but
didn't look up at Thomas, whom he perceived to be staring at him.
A cold front was blowing in (had been doing so overnight, in fact), and from
where Alex was sitting, he was getting the worst of it - without being
outside, of course. It was double-paned glass, but not as tightly fitted as
it could be, and each furious gust of wind outside blew a small chill draft
across Alex' face and chest. He was no longer standing up and moving
around, of course, so he wasn't generating as much body heat as before.
Added to that was the cold cereal, and soon Alex was shivering again.
Thomas saw that and stood up at once. He took his bathrobe off without
thinking and went around to where Alex was sitting (Alex looking up at him
curiously). Thomas went to put it around his shoulders, but thought better.
"Stand up!" he ordered.
Alex stood up, wondering what he did wrong this time. Thomas didn't upbraid
him, though, he just held out his bathrobe. Alex looked at him quizzically,
then put it on. The robe was short on Thomas, reaching less than half the
way down his thighs, but it was long on Alexander, extending well below his
knees; the sleeves, which rode high on Thomas' forearms, covered Alex's
knuckles. The robe wasn't one of the things Alex had shrunk in the laundry;
it was just old and outgrown. Thomas had another that fit him better, but
it wasn't as comfortable as this one.
Thomas went back and sat down, now naked as Alex was before, a look of
determination on his face; Alex didn't know him well enough to be sure it
wasn't anger. "You can sit down now," Thomas prompted, and Alex sat again,
looking at his older brother wonderingly, pushing the sleeves up a bit.
"You looked cold," Thomas said, explaining. Alex looked at him for a bit
longer, then didn't want to look directly into his brother's stare any more
and looked back at his bowl, which was nearly empty. With nothing else do
do, and certainly nothing to say, he went back to eating, conscious of his
brother watching him the whole time. Thomas sipped his coffee quietly,
continuing to look at Alex. In fact, apart from Thomas' staring, Alex was a
lot more comfortable than before. He still felt the cold gusts across his
face, but the robe carried his brother's warmth. He finished but didn't
have a napkin, having forgotten to lay them out.
"Excuse me," he said, and walked across the room to wipe his face and hands
with a paper towel, turning away from Thomas as he did so. When he was
done, he walked back and sat down.
"Why do you do that?" Thomas asked.
Alex had not anticipated that question. "Because I didn't have a napkin."
"Why don't you just wipe your mouth on your sleeve?"
The suggestion was unthinkable - his father had taught him better than that.
Even worse was the fact that is was Thomas' bathrobe he was wearing. "It's
your robe!" Alex protested.
"So?!" Thomas answered with a grin, once again amused.
Alex didn't know what to say. First his big brother was mad at him because
he ruined his clothes, and now he *wants* him to ruin them. It seemed
impossible to please him. Not knowing what else to do, Alex rubbed his
now-clean mouth on the robe.
Thomas chuckled at that. Alex smiled at him, glad that Thomas wasn't mad.
Thomas got up to get the rest of the coffee, and quick as a wink Alex was
up, holding the coffeepot with both hands as before. Thomas sat back down,
and Alex poured the dregs of the pot into the mug, then placed the pot back
on the receptacle. Alex sat back down. "You need to turn off the coffee
maker so the pot doesn't burn," Thomas pointed out. Alex got up and did so,
then sat down again and watched Thomas.
Now it was Alex staring and Thomas avoiding his eyes. Finally, the teenager
had to ask the question that was bothering him. "Why were you running
around naked this morning, little dude?"
Alex reddened, though he knew his brother wasn't mad when he called him
that. Because I wanted to be like you, he thought, but that didn't seem
like a good enough explanation. "Well, I already was, mostly, and I got
hungry and didn't get dressed." He glanced up at Thomas; the story seemed
acceptable. In any case, Thomas didn't wish to press the issue. "Anyways,
now *you're* the one who's running around naked," the boy added cheekily.
"'Cause you took my robe, squirt," Thomas replied, mussing the boy's hair.
Alex giggled, and for a moment their eyes met. Thomas was taken aback by
the look of pure adoration he got. It humbled him, since nobody could
deserve a look like that, but gave him great pride at the same time. His
smile vanished.
He finished his coffee. "Thanks, dude, you make great coffee," he said, and
got up. Fortunately, he was mostly soft again by this time. He squeezed
Alex's shoulder more softly than usual, still taken by the boy's apparent
fragility. It seemed like the slightest touch would crush him.
Alex wasn't crushed, however - nor had he ever been before, for despite what
his mother said Thomas was well aware of his strength and kept it in check
around Alex. Alex got up and followed, eventually grabbing Thomas' arm.
"What?" the older boy asked.
"Nothing," Alex said, "I just want to come with you."
Thomas sighed. "I'm going to take a shower, Alex, and you can't come with
me. Go play a game or something."
"Like what?"
"Play with your Sega." Alex had a video game set that he played with
sometimes, but he mostly preferred to play outside or just watch TV.
"It's no fun with only one person."
Now, Thomas knew that couldn't be true, since he had seen Alex playing with
it alone, albeit not very often. Thomas didn't really want to be having a
long conversation with Alex while standing naked in a hallway. He hit on an
idea. "You go set it up, and we'll play some later."
"You'll play too?" Alex demanded.
"Yes, I'll play. Now get out of here."
Alex smiled broadly and ran off. At the door to his room, he stopped and
looked back. "Hurry up," he said.
"All right, go on," Thomas replied. Alex went into his room, and Thomas
went into his, getting the other robe, then went into the hall bathroom the
boys shared.
As he closed and locked the door, Thomas heaved a sigh of relief, then shook
his head with a slight grin. Alex was going to run him ragged this weekend,
he felt sure of that. Looking at himself in the mirror, Thomas decided that
the new bathrobe made him look more manly and decided to let Alex keep the
old one. He took it off and started the shower, adjusting the temperature
to medium-hot.
Thomas stepped into the shower, and memories of the previous night
immediately intruded. He had to talk to Alex about it. What they had done
wasn't normal, but Thomas felt no guilt about it, only a sense that it
needed to be explained. It a way, he thought, is *was* normal, in that it
was natural for Thomas to do what he had been doing, as long as he did it
privately (his mother had said so obliquely), and just as natural for Alex
to be curious about it. It also seemed natural for it to have turned out as
it had, since how was Alex to know that his big brother meant for him to
yank himself and not him? Thomas grinned at that. Of course, then he had
to return the favor. I always try to make the girl feel good too, he
thought, and was immediately embarrassed at that. Of course it wasn't like
that. But that's the way it would seem to their parents if they found out.
It would seem to them like he had been seducing his little brother, when it
wasn't like that at all. Plus it would be almost as bad for Alex, Thomas
rationalized; they would start thinking he was a fag or something. The
teenager had to talk to his little brother about it and make sure he didn't
tell anyone. Of course, they could never do it again.
And what had they done? Just looked at some pictures and jacked each other
off, that's all. Thomas remembered jacking his brother off; he was so
little down there. He remembered how the kid got off when his butt was
played with, how he loved to have his leg stroked. He couldn't shoot
anything, but he still got off. And how he had squirmed when he did!
Thomas was erect again. He thought back to when Alex had jacked him, noting
again that it was the best j/o he had ever received. He remembered how his
little brother had played with his balls, as if they were some fascinating
new toy. He felt the little fingers exploring them gently, sensing their
shape, pulling at them to see how far they would go. He remembered the
little hands, so soft, pulling on him, urging him on, following his orders -
and the cute little butt dancing on his thigh. It wasn't just the best j/o
he had ever had, Thomas realized, it was some of the best sex he had ever
had. At that, he felt guilty again. It must never happen again. He
refused to admit that he wanted it to.
Thomas got out of the shower then and quickly dried off. He shaved quickly,
trying to make his cock go down. He tried to think of schoolwork, but as
usual it wouldn't stick in his mind. Giving up, and deciding his face was
smooth enough, he donned the new robe again and walked out.
Alex was waiting in the hallway, the old bathrobe still tied shut but wide
open at the chest. He immediately grabbed one of Thomas' hands with both of
his own and dragged him downstairs. It happened very quickly, so that
Thomas had no chance to protest. Alex pulled him down onto the rug in front
of the TV set and sat cross-legged. Thomas did likewise.
Alex explained the rules of the game. It was unexpectedly complicated, and
Thomas was soon quite confused. Alex got disgusted and decided to show him,
and Thomas watched attentively while Alex's character jumped around and slew
various monsters with strange weapons. Alexander provided a running
monologue, pointing out the various monsters, where they lurked, and ways to
kill them. Thomas was fascinated more by his brother's quick mind than by
the game itself. He asked questions from time to time, which Alex answered
patiently, sometimes pausing the game to do so.
Eventually it was time to begin, and Alex went first. He killed dozens of
monsters with no trouble at all, easily advancing from level to level.
Finally at one of the upper levels, three monsters attacked him at once, and
he was killed, but not before he killed two of them. "Damn!" he said.
"Here, your turn," he said in the next breath, handing the playboard to
Thomas.
Thomas did his best, but it had been a long time for him, and the games of
his day weren't nearly as difficult as this. He killed a few monsters of
his own, Alex constantly giving him pointers, but died on the first level.
"You're new, so that was practice," Alex said. "Go again." Alex grabbed
the gameboard and quickly did some strange manipulations to clear Thomas'
score.
Thomas went again, and Alex got up and knelt behind him, putting his hands
on his brother's shoulders, urging him on with them, giving constant advice.
Thomas did better this time, getting to the second level before he was
killed.
Alex came around front and shook his head disapprovingly. "Here, you watch
me," he said. He took the gameboard and sat down in Thomas' lap.
"Wait a minute," Thomas said. He lifted Alex and straightened out his legs,
which were beginning to grow numb.
Alex sat on his heels and shifted back against his brother. "Ready?" he
asked, twisting his neck to look back at Thomas.
"Go ahead," Thomas said.
Alex turned back around and started the game. "See that? Those caves?
Cave demons. There's one!" he said, dispatching it rapidly. "They're green
and they shoot fireballs, so you have to watch out. You can kill them easy
with a laser, though. After that, you go to the cave where the demon was
and get the flamethrower. You can kill almost anything with that, except
the phoenix, it makes him stronger. And some of the higher-level monsters
can't be killed with the flamethrower either."
Alex jumped up and down, continuing the instruction as he made his
sanguinary way up the ladder to higher levels. Not knowing what to do with
his hands, Thomas wrapped them around Alex, who was jumping up and down in
his excitement and seemed about to fall over sometimes.
Thomas' dick had never really gone down from the shower, and Alex's movement
soon got it hard again. When that happened, Thomas wanted to get his little
brother out of his lap, but Alex kept going to higher levels, evading death
over and over again. When three monsters attacked him again, he killed them
all and went on. "Yeah! I never got to this level befo ..." he began, and
was killed instantly. "Your turn," he said, handing the gameboard back to
Thomas.
"You sit over there," Thomas said, pointing to where Alex had been sitting
before.
"Why?" his brother replied with a smirk.
"Because you're in my way," Thomas replied.
"No, I'm not," Alexander protested. "You can see over me easy. Also your
arms are long enough so you can reach around."
"Move, squirt," Thomas said, pushing his brother to the side.
Alex fell over Thomas' leg, then rolled over and looked up at him, the robe
riding up somewhat so that it now extended less than halfway down his
thighs. "I know why," Alex said. "It's 'cause you're thinking about girls
again." He grinned.
Thomas didn't know whether Alex had felt anything or not, so he decided to
play innocent. It was awkward enough being hard now without talking about
it. "I just need to be free to do my victory dance when I beat you," he
said, smiling.
"In your dreams," Alex laughed. "What is this, then?" he added playfully,
deftly reaching under his brother's robe and grabbing the engorged member.
Thomas gasped. Once again, the feel of the ten-year-old's hand on his cock
was amazing. "'C'mon, Alex," he said, pulling the boy's hand away.
"What?" Alex said. "You liked it when I held it last night."
Thomas put down the gameboard. "Yeah, I did," he admitted, "but we can't do
it again."
Alex sat up and crossed his legs, the robe riding up some more so that from
where Thomas was sitting the space below his little brother's balls was
clearly visible. "Why not?" he asked.
"Because you're only supposed to have sex with girls." There, he had said
it.
"We had sex?" Alex said, shocked. "No, we didn't," he added resolutely, "we
just looked at some pictures and jacked off. We didn't, did we?"
"Well, sort of, that is, boys shouldn't do that with each other," Thomas
replied. He realized then that he had had mutual jackoff sessions with
other boys when he was younger. This was too complicated.
"Why not?" Alex asked, his eyes wide. "We didn't do what they were doing in
the pictures. *That* was sex," he added authoritatively.
"There are other ways than just what you saw in the pictures." Thomas
couldn't help looking at the little hairless space between Alex's legs under
the robe. He wasn't going soft at all.
"Show me," Alex demanded. "Show me the other stuff."
Thomas sighed in exasperation. "Later, Alex," he said. "Look," he said,
grabbing the boy's shoulder for emphasis, "don't tell anybody what we did
last night, okay?"
"Okay, sure, I wasn't going to anyway," Alex replied, mildly offended.
"And we can't do it again," Thomas added.
"No!" Alex said petulantly, bouncing a bit. "You liked it last time! You
said I was your brother again! You said later we could do it some more!"
He was being a total brat, and he had never acted that way before.
Thomas was taken aback, surprised at the outburst. "You *are* my brother,
Alex; you always will be. I told you that before. It's not because of what
we did. I was just showing you that one time," he put in, hoping that would
settle the issue.
"Yeah, I can do it now," Alex replied, instantly opening the robe and
exposing his dick, which was still soft, however. He started trying to jack
off.
Thomas was panicked. He quickly put his large hand over his brother's small
one and pulled it away, stopping the effort. "Stop that," he said, pulling
his hand back. Alex, nonplussed, sat back and leaned on his hands, leaving
the robe open. "You should only do that in private, in your own room with
the door locked, and never tell anybody about it," Thomas said.
"That's because it's bad, huh?"
"No, it's not bad, it's just private. You don't do it with other people
around."
"We did."
"Well I was showing you." It wasn't completely true, but it seemed to do
the trick.
"You showed me because you're my brother, right?"
"Right, Alex."
Alex surprised Thomas again. The ten-year-old jumped up, put his arms
around Thomas' neck, and fell on top of him, knocking him over. "You're the
best brother!" he said.
Thomas started tickling Alex, which seemed like the natural thing to do. He
continued for longer than usual, not wanting to talk, and by the time he was
through Alex was lying on his back with the robe off one shoulder, gasping
for breath. Thomas couldn't help noticing again how cute he was. He got up
to leave.
Alex jumped up and stood in front of him. "Where're you going?"
"I got to study," the teenager replied truthfully.
"You're always studying," Alexander said disappointedly. "Stay here and
play some more. I won't sit in your lap."
"I can't, I've got a big test."
"You're mad at me again."
"No, I'm not," Thomas said, realizing that he *was* mad, but not at Alex.
He stepped forward, knowing from experience that the only sure-fire way to
end the boy's pleading was to leave.
Alex wasn't quite sure he believed his brother. "Will you come back down
later?"
"Sure, kid," Thomas replied, mussing the boy's hair and walking past.
Alexander watched him go, sorry as always to see his big brother leave. He
started thinking of things they could do when he came back down. What he
really wanted to do, though, was what they did last night. He did up the
robe again, looking upstairs.
----
At first, Thomas found it difficult to study since he couldn't stop thinking
about Alex. Eventually, though, he was able to concentrate. Thomas
actually made progress this time, and things were beginning to stick in his
mind. He was loath to stop. Around two o'clock, though, he got hungry; for
some reason, Alex had not brought up any snacks. Thomas considered calling
him, then reproved himself for considering his little brother a slave. It
was another change in Thomas - until just then, he rejoiced in making Alex a
servant. Thomas went downstairs for something to eat.
Alex played video games for a short while longer, but he really didn't enjoy
it as much if there wasn't anyone there watching him. In spite of his
appearance, he wasn't the sedentary type. Alex went to Scott's house again.
Scott's mother said he had gone to the park, and Alex found him there
playing war with Marshall and Kevin (the wind having died down by this
time). Alex wanted to join in, and the other boys were amenable since at
that point it was Scott and Marshall against Kevin, which wasn't an even
battle, so Alex joined the war on Kevin's side, using a stick since he
didn't have a gun. The war didn't last long since Marshall wouldn't admit
when he was killed; finally even Scott was mad at him.
There was some debate about what they should do then. Marshall wanted to go
to the zoo, but Kevin said that was for babies, and anyway Alex pointed out
that the zoo cost $2.50 to get in. Marshall and Scott had the money, but
Alex and Kevin didn't. Scott said they could sneak in, he knew a place, but
Alex didn't want to do that, and Kevin insisted again that it was for babies
anyway. Marshall, offended, said no it wasn't, they have snakes and
tarantulas there. The idea was eventually tabled for lack of consensus, and
it was lucky it was, for if they had climbed over the wall as Scott
suggested, they might have landed right in the black panther's pen.
Kevin then suggested they play soccer, but the other three weren't exactly
keen on that idea since Kevin was a star player and would inevitably win.
At any rate, Marshall pointed out, they didn't have a ball. Kevin said he
had one at his house, but he lived furthest away of the four, and they
didn't want to walk that distance just to get a ball. Kevin asked if
anybody else had a ball, and Scott allowed that he had one - a tennis ball.
Alex, Scott, and Marshall burst out laughing. (In fact, both Scott and
Marshall owned soccer balls, but neither would admit it since they didn't
want to play soccer.)
Kevin called them a bunch of "girly men" and walked off disgustedly, toward
the creek that ran through the park. The other three huddled briefly, then
ran after him and tackled him, not without difficulty, since he was the
biggest of the four. They twisted his arm behind his back and made him eat
grass and take back his remark. After he did so, they let him up, and he
went for Marshall, the smallest, and gave him a noogie.
Alex and Scott kept a wary eye to see if Kevin would go after them next, but
he didn't. They walked down to the creek (which was much wider than the one
they had followed the previous day), and Alex skipped a stone across. Scott
was absolutely amazed by that, and Alex was equally amazed that Scott hadn't
done it before. It turned out that Kevin and Marshall hadn't done it
either, though the former at first wouldn't admit it. At any rate, Alex
showed everybody how it was done, sending one rock downstream with five
skips. They did that for a while, then Scott spied a group of older boys
entering the park, and, fearing trouble, they decided to clear out, moving
downstream.
It was a very large park, extending from one end of the city to the other
along the streambed. They walked under a road overpass and were safely out
of sight. There were some stoneworks dating from the WPA era which made a
natural "fort," and the war game resumed, with everyone telling Marshall in
the most forceful terms that he had to die if he was killed. At first,
Kevin and Alex held the fort and Scott and Marshall attacked, and the war
was over almost immediately, Kevin and Alex winning. Then they traded
places, and Kevin and Alex won again, though it took longer this time. To
even up the teams, they put Marshall on Kevin's side, and Alex went on
Scott's side. That worked better, and they played three more times.
Alex noticed that the teenagers Scott had spied before were standing under
the overpass, obviously smoking something. A bottle was being passed
around. Nothing is more fearsome to a group of ten-year-olds than a group
of teenage boys, known for their sadism, and the four "escaped"
surreptitiously as if they were POW's sneaking away from the Germans.
Once they were safely away, Alex, who loved exploring, suggested that they
see how far the park went. Kevin said he had been to the other end already,
but the other two were willing; it seemed like they were doing that anyway,
and it sounded better than running away. Kevin signaled his assent by
challenging them to a race. The other three responded to the challenge, of
course, though their hearts weren't in it since they knew Kevin would win,
which he did.
They travelled on, finding several more "fortifications" and some wooded
areas. Alex climbed a tree and swung on a vine to the other side of a small
stream, and Kevin and Scott did the same, but Marshall refused and skipped
rocks across. The other three dunked Marshall's head in one of the small
tributary streams.
By that time they were hungry and climbed up out of the park into a strange
neighborhood, the Hispanic part of town. People looked at them strangely,
and most everyone was speaking Spanish, though there was some English too.
At any rate, the neighborhood at first didn't look at all threatening, like
their own neighborhood in fact, the only difference being the people that
lived there. They looked around for a store where they could get something
to eat, and the first likely-looking place they came to said "Fiesta
Cinquenta Bodega" in brightly-painted colors (this being 50th Street).
Kevin opened the door and looked in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the
darkness, he confronted by a fierce looking man standing only a couple feet
away glaring at him, and the place was packed with other men who looked
equally fierce. "Run!" he said, and the others followed, looking back to
see who was chasing them, but no one was, though one man came out of the
bodega to watch.
Kevin was growing very self-conscious since he was evidently the only blonde
in the area (the other three boys having brown hair) and lost his usual
assurance. He tagged along in back. Not too far along, they found a stand
tended by a nice woman with a sweet smile, and they bought their lunch
there. Marshall and Scott had plenty of money and ate well. Alex got two
burritos for the dollar and change that he had. Kevin only had seventeen
cents, so Scott got him a burrito and Marshall let him share his Coke. Alex
was thirsty and wanted a drink too. Marshall complained, but Alex persuaded
him to lend him fifty cents to get his own, for which Scott offered
security.
Kevin wanted to leave the area immediately and get back to the park, but the
others wanted to explore some more, so he tagged along reluctantly, feeling
isolated and exposed. They travelled down 50th Street, staring at other
people as much as they were stared at. There were stores with chicken feet
for sale, and one with lizards in a pen. The place was filled with strange
music and smells (one smell was familiar, though - that of marijuana). They
came to a house, painted an odd shade of violet, with several scantily-clad
women lounging in front, sunning themselves (the day having by then warmed
considerably). When they saw the boys, they talked to each other in Spanish
and giggled. Two of the women came over.
"Jouse are so cute," one of them said, stroking Kevin's cheek.
"Why don't jou come een, we show you good time," the other said, playing
with Alex's hair. The other women on the porch laughed.
"Wow! They're ..." Marshall began, but Scott stepped on his foot. "Ow!"
Marshall said.
"We don't have any money," Scott said.
"Too bad," Kevin's woman said, lifting his chin to look at him, then letting
him go.
The other woman played with Alex's hair some more. "Jou come back later,
only twenty dollars, special price," she said. They walked off.
Alex and Marshall stood and stared at the giggling women, then Kevin and
Scott dragged them away. "Is that twenty for all of us, or twenty apiece?"
Marshall asked.
"Twenty apiece, you moron," Kevin said, smacking Marshall on the back of the
head.
At that moment, there were some gunshots in the distance, and two police
cars came barreling down 50th Street, sirens blaring. The boys decided that
they would be in trouble if they were found in that part of town and ran
down the next side street back toward the park, which they eventually
reached, though not without evading a large black dog, which luckily turned
out to be chained.
They continued walking downstream; the park down here was more rustic, with
fewer WPA works and more trees. What stonework they found, as well as the
overpasses, were covered with graffiti that was much more colorful and
artistic than in their own neighborhood, but they couldn't read it since it
was in Spanish. There were more cigarette butts and more empty bottles,
some broken, and they walked carefully. The wind started picking up again,
clouds moved in, and it got chilly. There was a lot of talk about the
whores and whether they could come up with $20 each. Marshall had the
money, and Scott thought he could steal it from his mother. Alex allowed
that he had that much at home, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do it.
Everyone made fun of him then, saying he was a fag and didn't like girls.
Alex attacked Scott and wrestled with him then, and although Scott won, that
was the end of the teasing, Alex saying that he was in. That left Kevin,
who angrily admitted that he didn't have $20. Scott asked if he could steal
it, and Kevin said no. They all felt bad for Kevin then and walked on in
silence.
The neighborhood seemed to change again; they were close to downtown now,
and the skyscrapers that had been distant before were now quite near. The
Spanish graffiti ended, but the park was no cleaner; dirtier, in fact, with
a lot of discarded bottles and cigarette butts, and some used condoms, which
the boys mistook for balloons (they didn't pick them up). There were a
couple old drunks lounging on the benches; the explorers gave them a wide
berth. They spotted a public toilet, and Marshall said he had to go. The
other three followed him (the Cokes were having an effect).
The restroom was unbelievably filthy and smelled terrible, even though the
door was wide open and the wind whistled through the vents. Alex, Scott,
and Kevin went to the urinals, leaving Marshall to use one of the toilets.
"Hey, you guys, come see this!" Marshall exclaimed.
"We're busy, dork," Kevin answered for all three.
They finished. Alex tried to wash his hands, but there wasn't any water.
"Come here!" Marshall said again, from the stall. They all went to look.
Marshall pointed to a graffito on the wall of the stall. It said:
Any young boys call 969-7324. I want to see you. Friendship, or
whatever. Let's talk. $$$$$
The dollar signs were written extra large. "What do you think that means?"
Marshall asked.
"It means he's a pervert and wants to play with young boys," Kevin said.
The other three were boggled by that; the possibility seemed fraught with
terror, yet exciting.
"The dollars mean he gives you money if you call him," Scott ventured.
"You can get your twenty dollars, Kev," Alex said, smirking.
"You die, Harris," Kevin answered. Alex ran out of the restroom laughing
with Kevin not far behind. Scott and Marshall followed to see what would
happen.
Kevin was really mad, though; this wasn't any game to him. He was very
conscious of the fact that his family was poor, and Alex's remark had cut
him to the bone - something Alex didn't realize. After a short chase, Kevin
had cornered Alex beside the big stream. Scott and Marshall pulled up
behind to watch.
Suddenly, Kevin charged, pushing Alex backward into the stream. The stream
was neither deep nor particularly fast, and Alex stood up quickly, soaked
from head to toe. He looked at himself in amazement.
"You idiot!" Scott yelled, pushing Kevin. "He's all wet now! He'll get
sick!"
"Yeah!" Marshall chimed in, relishing the opportunity to push Kevin around,
"you got him all wet!"
Kevin, his anger spent, was as surprised as any of the others at the
situation they found themselves in. Alex walked back to the shore,
dripping, still shocked. "We got to get him home," Kevin said.
"Yeah, I want to go home now," Alex answered.
They set out at once, but it was a long trip; they had traveled several
miles downstream. The wind was ferocious, and Alex shivered strongly. The
others kept looking at him with concern. They decided to run, thinking it
would make Alex warmer, which it did, but he was soon out of breath so they
had to slow down again.
They walked on, ignoring everyone, even a pair of older boys who were
sitting on one of the stoneworks. The clouds continued to thicken, and the
wind blew full force. Alex stopped shivering and started to stagger; he
became groggy. Scott took one of Alex's arms, and Kevin took the other.
They half-led, half-carried him along.
When they got to Alex's door, Marshall and Kevin ran off. This looked like
trouble, serious trouble, and they didn't want to be part of it. Scott
watched them leave with a mixture of disgust and fear. He held Alex with
one arm and knocked on the door with the other.
Thomas was upstairs studying again. At first, he didn't hear the knock,
mistaking it for part of the music he was listening to. Scott knocked
again, harder, and Thomas heard it. He tied up his robe (having never
bothered to get dressed) and went down to answer it.
Scott was relieved that it was Thomas and not Mr. and Mrs. Harris who
answered. "Alex fell in the stream in the park," Scott lied. "He's real
cold."
Thomas' eyes opened wide. Alex was obviously more than just "real cold," he
was nearly unconscious. The older boy picked up his brother without a word
and carried him up to the bathroom.
Scott followed them up the stairs. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"
"Turn on the bathwater, warm, not too hot," Thomas said. He could see that
Alex's condition was serious, and that he needed to be warmed up, but quick.
He sat Alex down on the toilet seat and began to take off his coat.
Scott put the plug in and started to run the water. He started to cry.
"He's okay, isn't he?" he pleaded.
Thomas glanced at him. "I think so," he said; the last thing he needed was
Scott going into hysterics. "We got to get him warmed up. Run the water
and make sure it's not too hot. It needs to be just warm." Scott turned
back to his job, continually testing the water temperature and looking back
at Thomas, who was taking Alex's clothes off as quickly as possible.
Thomas hesitated at bit when he got to the boy's briefs, then decided they
should come off too. He listened at Alex's chest for a heartbeat; there was
one. He lifted his brother and placed him gently in the tub, Scott moving
out of the way. "Hold his head," Thomas ordered.
Scott, terrified, held Alex's head while Thomas ran his hands over him,
circulating the warm water. "Alex!" Thomas said, "wake up!" Alex only
turned his head a little. Thomas kept moving his hands.
"Slap him," Thomas said, but Scott only looked at him in fear. "Do it!"
Scott slapped Alex. "Again! Harder!" Thomas ordered, continuing to warm
his brother up.
Scott did so, wincing. "Wha," Alex said.
Thomas grinned. "He's gonna be all right," he told Scott. "Alex! Stay
awake! Ask him something," Thomas said.
"Alex, where are you now?" Scott asked.
"Bathtub," Alex replied groggily.
"Ask him more!"
"What is your favorite color?" It was the only question Scott could think
of at the moment.
"Green," Alex said.
"What color is this?" Scott asked, holding up a towel.
"Blue." At that point, Alex began to shiver convulsively, and both boys
held him tight, Thomas by the legs, Scott by the head.
Scott got worried again and started crying once more. "Alex, come on, you
can make it," he said.
"He's going to be okay," Thomas assured Scott. "It means he's warming up."
Scott continued to hold Alex's head, trying to keep him from bumping it,
largely successfully. Eventually, Alex calmed down to where he was only
shivering normally.
"You can go home now, uh, what's your name?" Thomas said. He knew all of
his little brother's friends, but he paid little attention to them.
"Scott."
"You can go home now, Scott, he'll be okay." Scott didn't want to leave.
"Go on." Scott walked out slowly, looking back. Thomas was holding Alex's
head with one hand while circulating the water with the other.
After a while, the water started to get cool. Alex was fully conscious by
then but still shivering. Thomas pulled the plug and lifted Alex out of the
tub, drying him quickly but thoroughly with a towel. Satisfied, he carried
the boy into his bed. Thomas shucked his own robe and got in with Alex,
pulling him close. He pulled the covers over them both and held his brother
tight, rubbing his thighs rapidly.
"Stop that," Alex said, grabbing Thomas' wrist. The rubbing was starting
to hurt.
Thomas complied. "How are you now? Still cold?"
"A little bit." Alex was getting uncomfortable being held so tight. He
began to squirm.
"Lie still." Thomas was still fixed on the image of his brother at the
door, slightly blue, nearly unconscious. He felt as if Alex would die if he
let him go.
"You're crushing me," the ten-year-old complained. That made Thomas loosen
up some, though he still didn't let go.
"You stay here and get warm," Thomas replied sternly. Now that the danger
was obviously past, he was getting mad. "What happened?"
"Nothing." Alex didn't want to tell his brother where he'd been.
Thomas took Alex's chin between two fingers and turned his head to look him
in the face. "Nothing?! You almost died, and it's nothing? What were you
doing, playing by the river, anyway? You could drown!"
"It's not a river, it's just a big stream, and anyways nobody could drown in
it, it's only two feet deep." Alex squirmed harder and for a moment broke
away.
Thomas grabbed him and pulled him back. "You're not going anywhere!" he
hissed, sitting on Alex's thighs and holding his arms down by the wrists.
"Listen to me, little dude: you never, ever play by that river - stream -
whatever, again. Got that?"
Alex didn't know what to think of that, since when Thomas said "little dude"
it usually meant he was happy, but now he obviously wasn't. "All right," he
said.
Alex noticed it first, then Thomas followed his eyes. Thomas had a raging
hardon. Alex looked back up at his brother questioningly. Thomas was
briefly torn between his anger, his concern for his brother, and his
embarrassment. Embarrassment won out. He rolled off the top of Alex and
covered himself with the blanket.
"I remind you of a girl, huh?" Alex asked.
Oh God, what a question! "I guess so," Thomas said quietly, unable to lie.
His anger turned inward.
Alex could see that his big brother was upset and wanted to help him out.
"It's okay, I'm kind of like one, I guess. Not having hair, I mean."
Thomas very much wanted this conversation to end, but he didn't know what to
say. "So it's all right if you get a hardon around me, I don't mind," Alex
went on.
"You're not a girl, Alex," Thomas said through clenched teeth.
"I didn't say I was a girl," the boy replied, offended. "You get all mad,
then I say it doesn't matter, and then you're still mad, and it's not my
fault!" There, he said it. Thomas was mad at him, and it wasn't his fault,
and he said so.
Thomas softened (emotionally if not anatomically). "No, it isn't your
fault. Just leave now," he said.
Alex could tell the difference between a command to leave that had to be
obeyed and one that could be ignored. This one was half-hearted, and almost
instinctively he began to cajole. "I'm still cold," he said, pulling up the
covers, shivering for effect. "I want to stay here."
That was too much for the seventeen-year-old. "All right," he said, "I'll
leave then." He got up to go, proud flesh leading the way.
"You hate me," Alex said morosely.
Thomas turned. "I don't hate you!" Thomas declared angrily, waving his
hands. He remembered himself then and covered his cock with his hands. "I
was just mad because you almost got yourself killed."
"That's not true. You're mad because I made you get a hardon."
"No, I'm not."
"Then why do you have to leave?"
Checkmate. "I don't have to leave," Thomas said petulantly. He got back in
bed and pulled the covers over him. "There! Happy now?" he said
sarcastically.
"Yes!" Alex said, snuggling up to his brother so fast it was impossible to
pull away in time. Needless to say, that did not help Thomas with his
"problem," which only grew harder.
"Why do you have to be around me all the time?" Thomas demanded.
"Because you're my brother and I love you," Alex explained. He was still at
an age where such things could be said seriously and unself-consciously, and
that was how he said it.
Thomas replied by taking Alex's head in his arm and pulling it to his chest
- which was really the only proper way to respond, in spite of the guilt he
felt. "Alex, I don't want to mess you up," he said.
"I'm not getting messed up," Alex answered, "and you're not messed up
either. You think I make you unnormal."
"'Abnormal,' and no, I don't think that. Whatever is wrong with me, is just
me, not you, understand?"
Alex sat up then (Thomas' hand remained on his back). "You're not abnormal!
That's what I was saying before. You just think about girls because I'm
like one." He felt that he could help his brother with this, and if there
was anything he could do for Thomas, he wanted to do it. The last time he
tried hadn't worked out so well, so Alex was going to get this right.
Thomas sighed. "Alex, you are *not* like a girl. Don't say that."
"Yes, I am," the boy insisted. "I don't have any hair on my legs, and girls
don't. And I don't have to shave like you and Dad do."
"That doesn't make you a girl, Alex."
"I didn't say I *was* a girl, I said I was *like* one!" He hit the mattress
with his fist for emphasis. "And I don't have muscles like a girl too."
Thomas didn't reply to that; he was beginning to follow his brother's logic,
which was unknowingly enforced by his pretty chest and neck, his delicate
arms, and his angelic face. "So if you get a hardon around me, it's because
I remind you of a girl, so it's all right!" Alex finished.
Thomas saw what his little brother was trying to do for him and pulled him
down for a big hug. "Alex ... thanks."
Alex sat back up, beaming. "Show me some more pictures," he said, hoping to
stretch this visit out as long as possible.
"Well ..." Thomas teased. He felt that Alex had shown him the reason for
his recently-discovered "problem," and while he wondered why his cock didn't
start to go down, he felt obligated to return the favor. Not like last
time.
"Pleeease?"
"All right," the teenager declared, smiling. He got up, not bothering to
hide his erection, and went over to Alex's side of the bed, then lifted the
mattress up. Alex rolled over and giggled but didn't fall out. Thomas
pulled a few handfuls of magazines out onto the floor, then lowered the
mattress and sifted through them. No use messing with the actual
_Playboy's_, they were past that. He grabbed a few _Penthouse_ and
_Hustler_, plus a few "off-brands" (it was quite an extensive collection).
When Thomas got back in bed, Alex curled up next to him, and Thomas put his
arm behind Alex's head again. "You remember now, you're not a girl, okay?"
he said, smiling.
"Right!" Alex said.
Thomas opened the first magazine and flicked through some pictures of
gorgeous women, some playing with their tits, others fingering themselves,
all with the image of rapture (tm) on their faces. They didn't seem to do
anything for Alex, though. He simply watched, dividing his attention
between the magazine and Thomas' face. Thomas began to be worried, then
remembered that Alex preferred action shots. He found a series with a man
and woman on a beach. As expected, the younger boy's interest quickened.
In the first few frames, the man was taking pictures of the woman. He
photographed her with her top on, then with it off. She held her large
breasts up with her hands. Next she pulled her bikini down in back, looking
off to the side. Thomas went to turn the page, but Alex stopped him.
"She's got a nice butt, doesn't she?" the older boy asked.
"Yeah," Alex said absently. He felt his butt. It seemed small in
comparison.
Thomas turned the page. The man had now dropped the camera. In the next
picture, he stood behind the woman, feeling her butt. In the next, he drew
closer, still in his tight-fitting trunks, and leaned over her, feeling her
breasts. The next picture showed the woman nude, leaning back against a
rock, with her legs open, the man tongueing her between the legs. "He's
licking her cunt," Thomas said, anticipating the question.
"Licking her cunt," Alex aped, staring.
Thomas turned the page. He kept looking to see if Alex was hard, but the
covers over them both made it hard to tell, though Alex was now lying on his
back. It would give Thomas a kick to see the boy aroused - and it would
make things even. The next picture was nothing special. The man had taken
his trunks off, but he was only kissing the woman's calf. In the next one,
both were standing, and the man was holding the woman's hands behind her
back while he kissed her on the lips. The facing page showed the woman
lying on a towel, her legs spread, feeling her nipples.
On the next page, the man was back at work, his cock hanging as he licked
the woman's nipple. In the next image, he continued down, tongueing her
bellybutton. Finally, his head was buried between her legs licking her
cunt, the woman's back arched in ecstasy. That was the end of that series.
"Show another one," Alex said. Thomas opened another magazine. He went
quickly past a particularly grotesque cartoon about necrophilia and found
another picture with a man and a woman. In this one, the man was dressed in
black leather and held a whip; the woman was wearing a white negligee. He
held up the whip, and she cowered before him.
Thomas turned the page, looking at Alex to see if this was upsetting him,
but he showed no sign of being upset. The woman kneeled down before the
man, who had his hand on her head. In the next picture, a closeup, the
man's cock was pointed into the woman's face, and she was licking it. The
next one was a wider view, showing the woman on her knees, taking the man's
cock in her mouth. Alex reached up and prevented his brother from turning
the page. Thomas looked and saw that Alex was hard, no doubt about it.
"She's sucking his cock," the older boy said unnecessarily.
On the next page there was another closeup, this time with the man's hands
behind the woman's head, the cock all the way in her mouth so that her nose
was buried in the man's pubes. The facing page showed the denouement: the
man had pulled his cock out and was jerking it, spraying cum over the
woman's face. Her tongue was held out, as if to catch it.
"Wow," Alex said. "That's what you did before."
"Yeah," Thomas replied. "When a girl sucks a guy off, he can cum that way.
Another way is when he fucks her."
Thomas closed that magazine and set it aside, then grabbed the next one from
his pile. Seeing which one it was, however, he wasn't sure he wanted to
show it to his little brother. It was an old, weathered thing that Thomas
had found among a pile of trash in a drainage ditch, back when he was a
couple years older than Alex. From time to time, it turned him on when he
was in that sort of a mood, but it wasn't something he normally looked at.
It showed young girls. He went to put it back down, but Alex stopped him.
"Show me that one," he said. It seemed like his brother was hiding
something, and if it was hidden, it must be good.
Thomas thought, "what the hell," and opened it. The girls in here were more
Alex's age, and he might like them better. Thomas had forgotten all about
himself. He was fixated on his little brother, watching his face, observing
the little bulge in the covers. After all, Thomas thought, I've seen all
these before.
The first few pictures showed three girls of various ages, the youngest in
fact being about ten, posing in Catholic-school uniforms (white
short-sleeved blouse, green plaid wool skirt). The pictures were made
provocative by the poses: one girl was reaching for something on a high
shelf, the second was bending over to pick up some dropped books, and the
third (Alex's age) was skipping rope, her skirt flying up, exposing a bit of
white panty.
Alex turned to Thomas and grinned. The older boy smiled back - well, so
that's what he likes. But then, what else would he like? It seemed only
natural. In the next few pages, the girls gradually got undressed. First
the little skirts went. Alex's leg shifted so that his knee was against
Thomas' leg, the bottom of his foot against his own calf. The two younger
girls had white cotton panties, the older one (Thomas estimated her age at
about fifteen) had pink silk ones.
Next, the girls took off their blouses. The oldest had a bra under hers,
but the 12- and 10-year-olds did not. Alex felt his chest, then, noticing
Thomas watching him, he stopped. "Go on, little dude," Thomas prompted.
Alex didn't. The oldest girl had a fair-sized pair of tits, not real jugs
of course, but big for her age. The middle one was just budding. "I'm like
her," Alex said, pointing at the youngest girl, who had no chest at all.
Mishearing his brother, Thomas replied: "You like her, huh? I thought you
might." He smiled conspiratorially at Alex.
Alex just looked at him, then looked back at the pictures. "Do you like
her?" he asked.
"Sure, she's fine," Thomas said, to encourage his little brother. The
reality was that Thomas had never given the ten-year-old in the magazine
much notice before; now he was inspecting her closely.
Alex might have said something else, but Thomas turned the page again. A
man had walked into the room, "catching" the twelve-year-old with her hand
in her panties. He shook his fist at her, then pulled the panties off and
spanked her on her bare bottom. She cried, and he kissed her, holding her
in his lap. His pants were down.
On the next two pages, he laid the naked girl on her back and had her lick
his finger. He spread her legs and pushed the finger into her cunt. She
had the look of ultimate rapture (tm) on her face.
Alex, had he been thinking, might have prevented Thomas from turning the
page so fast, but the next picture was even more amazing (it was a two-page
spread). The man was on top of the girl, fucking her with what seemed like
an enormous cock for her size, but she was liking it! An inset left no
doubt about what was going on.
Thomas noticed his little brother's hips shift a bit and held the page for a
while. When he turned it, it was the oldest girl's turn. A football player
with Thomas' build was behind the girl, holding her arms, kissing her neck.
In the next picture, the girl was on her knees, pulling the boy's uniform
pants down, sucking his cock.
On the next page, the girl was on her back on the bed, her legs up and open
wide, as the earlier girl had been, but the boy was holding his cock and
shaking his head. She got up on her hands and knees and grinned back at
him. He grinned at her then, spreading something on his cock.
The next picture made Alex gasp. The boy was fucking the girl in the butt!
Again, there was an inset and no possibility of mistake. "Wha - what's he
doing?" Alex asked, unable to believe his eyes.
"He's fucking her butt," Thomas replied with relish. Alex was really
getting into this, and Thomas was getting off on how his little brother was
acting. The teenager enjoyed talking dirty to him.
"Is he gonna ...?" Alex couldn't say it. The girl didn't look that much
bigger than he was - didn't look that much *different*, in fact, from this
angle.
"He's gonna cum in her ass, yeah," Thomas said.
Alex eventually noticed that Thomas was staring at him staring at the
picture. "Cool," he said, lowering his eyes.
Thomas turned the page. "Here's your little girl," he said, smiling. It
was indeed the ten-year-old Alex had remarked on before. She was lying on
her back on a bed, wearing only her panties, and a boy a few years older was
listening to her chest with a stethoscope (they were obviously playing
"doctor"). In the next picture, the panties were off, and he was feeling
between her legs. The angle was slightly wider, and the boy could be seen
more clearly; he had only briefs on. The girl was obviously enjoying the
petting. Thomas went to turn the page, but Alex stopped him, seemingly
trying to memorize the scene.
Finally, Alex let his brother turn to the next page. In the next picture,
the boy was lying on the bed with his briefs around his knees; he was hard.
The girl was leaning over him, feeling his cock. Alex noted that the girl
had no hair at all except on her head, and the boy had a little bit above
his dick but none on his legs. On the facing page, the boy had his hands on
the girl's head, and she had his dick in her mouth. There was another
inset. The boy looked very happy; it was hard to tell if the girl was happy
or not since her mouth was full, but she didn't seem to mind. "She's
sucking him off," Thomas pointed out.
Thomas held that picture for a long time, and finally it was Alex who
reached up to turn the page; Thomas obliged. A man walked into the room; he
was obviously very angry, and the boy and girl looked afraid. In the next
picture, the man had his cock out and was holding it. He was yelling at the
girl and pointing at the boy. Alex looked at Thomas anxiously. The older
boy reassured him: "He's not going to hurt them."
Alex turned the page again; Thomas had ceded control of the magazine to him.
The girl got on top of the boy, facing him, and pushed herself back so that
the boy's cock was inside her (there was another inset). In the following
picture, the man had his pants off and was kneeling over the boy's face.
The girl had her mouth on the man's dick, and the boy was licking the man's
balls. "Hot little shit, isn't she?" Thomas asked. Alex was beyond words;
he just nodded absently.
Alex stared for a long time, trying to memorize the picture; finally, he
reached up and turned the page. The next two pages had three closeups: the
man's dick in the girl's mouth, the boy licking the man's balls, and the
boy's dick in the girl's pussy. Alex felt himself around his cock (which
had been hard for some time now) and between his legs, comparing himself to
the pictures. "She's getting it two ways," Thomas pointed out. He noticed
that Alex was feeling himself under the covers.
In the next picture, the man was kneeling with the girl standing in front of
him; the boy wasn't in the picture. The girl seemed to be in pain, but she
wasn't crying. The inset showed the reason for her discomfort: the man had
two fingers in her, one in her pussy and one in her butt. An older reader
might have noticed that the girl wasn't bleeding, so she obviously wasn't a
virgin in spite of her age, but to Alex the lack of blood was unremarkable.
In the next picture, the man was standing again, giving orders. The boy was
still on his back. The girl was sitting on the boy's dick, facing his feet.
She looked uncomfortable, but the boy had a look of rapture (tm). The inset
made it clear which orifice was being penetrated this time: it was the
girl's anus.
On the next page, the man was kneeling over the boy's thighs and holding up
the girl's knees so that she was lying back against the boy's chest, her
hair in his face. She was staring in terror at the man's huge cock, her
hands clasped in an expression of pleading. The man grinned. In the next
picture, the man was holding the girl's legs together, his cock between
them, while the boy's cock was still firmly embedded in the girl's ass.
The next page consisted of two closeups: the boy's penis in the girl's
butt, and the man's cock poking between her legs. On the final page, the
man spurted cum over the girl and boy, making a dotted line of white from
the boy's forehead all the way down the girl. An inset showed the girl's
cum-soaked face. Alex went to turn the page again, but that was the end of
the magazine. Thomas set it aside.
"How was that, little dude?" Thomas asked. "That pussy make you horny?"
"Yeah, that was hot," Alex said, still playing with himself.
"You wanna jack off now?"
Alex could see that Thomas was already stroking under the covers, and he
realized that Thomas meant they should each do themselves. It wasn't what
Alex wanted to do. "Can we do it like last time?" he asked.
"It's always like last time," Thomas replied, smiling. "There's only one
way to do it." He knew what Alex meant but hoped to avoid it; it seemed
somehow "faggy," while just jacking off together, each one's hand on his own
equipment, would not be.
Alex wasn't put off, though. "I mean, I do you and you do me," he said.
"Alex, I -" Thomas began, but the ten-year-old didn't wait for the reply.
He grabbed Thomas' dick and started playing with it. Once that soft little
hand was on his cock, there was no way the teenager was going to have it
removed, at least not as horny as he was, no matter how guilty he might feel
later.
Alex started moving his hand up and down on Thomas, awkwardly and somewhat
painfully. Clearly he couldn't get good leverage from this angle. "Get on
me like before," Thomas said, "and slow down some."
The boy giggled and jumped on his brother's thighs, moving up close so that
his own little balls were against Thomas'. He jacked Thomas with one hand
for a while, slowly, then started using both hands. "Oh, yeah," was all the
teenager could say. The blanket fell off Alexander's shoulders and settled
behind his butt, which was bouncing lightly on the older boy's legs.
Thomas was about to tell Alex to speed up, but he didn't need to. Alex,
always observant and a quick study, could tell by his brother's face. For a
while, Thomas tried to close his eyes and think of girls, but the show in
front of him was much better, so he kept stealing glances at Alex. The
sensation of the boy's balls and cock occasionally touching him down there
was one he had never had before - new and very exciting. As before, he was
amazed at how soft and delicate Alex was.
Suddenly Alex stopped, and Thomas' eyes opened completely. An impish grin
faced him, so unbelievably cute that the older boy was distracted by it.
The thought that Alex was teasing him entered his mind, but he couldn't
utter a word. Quick as a wink, for Alex was able to move very fast, the
grin disappeared, and Thomas felt a new sensation on his cock.
"Oh, God," Thomas said, mostly in horror but with a sneaking pleasure
intermingled, moving up onto his elbows. He looked down at his
step-brother, who was licking at his cock and balls, his little fanny in the
air.
Thomas knew he should *not* allow this, but looking at Alex, he couldn't
find the words to say so. The kid looked like he *belonged* where he was,
in just this position. It was surreal. It made Thomas think of how Alex
looked normally, how he had to lean into the wind to avoid being blown over
on his way to school, how his pajamas hung off him when he sat in Thomas'
lap watching TV, light as a feather. How he looked that morning, shivering
bravely in the draft from the window, and how he seemed so close to death in
the afternoon, his lips blue with cold. Back then, it had seemed that there
was no place in the world for Alex, that he belonged in some long-ago time,
with dragons and druids and little elves like himself.
"Careful with your teeth, Alex," was what the teenager wound up saying. For
the ten-year-old didn't look that way now. And Thomas knew this was wrong,
very wrong, but at the same time he knew that it wasn't. This was one place
in the world where Alex belonged. Thomas was horrified at the thought, but
he couldn't escape it. Alex is a fag, he thought, then hated himself for
the slur, which he had used often enough in the past. He's just like that,
he corrected himself. And it's not bad the way he is - he's beautiful the
way he is.
"Alex, stop," Thomas said. The boy continued. "Stop, stop," Thomas
insisted, taking his brother's head gently in his hands and pulling it away
from his cock. Thomas wasn't horny any more.
Alexander looked at him questioningly. "Come up here," the older boy said.
Alex did so, crawling awkwardly toward Thomas' face on all fours.
Thomas reached up and gave Alex a big hug, crushing him against his chest.
Alex, surprised, moved his knees down so that his back wouldn't be so
twisted and lay atop his brother, the tip of the teenager's moist cock
tickling the base of his balls. "It's all right, little dude. Everything's
gonna be all right," Thomas said.
Alexander didn't know what his brother was talking about, but he liked this.
He felt completely warm and protected, all the more so because Thomas let
one of his hands travel down to his butt, then to his leg, and back up
again. Alex closed his eyes; he wanted to fall asleep this way and never
wake up. It was the best possible thing.