by Jack Harbon
Evidently I’m not okay given that I sound like some first year English major trying to be poetic.
I lie and say, “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s best we both just cool off and spend some time apart.” The fact that Mom and I have only just started seeing more of each other isn’t missed, but the truth very well may be that this is how we’ll operate.
We might not get along anymore, and rather than spending every day together like we used to, the only way we’ll be able to work is in small, brief moments. There’s an ache in my chest, deep in my heart, but I hope it’s not permanent. Maybe with time, we’ll get better. We’ll figure this out. Right now, though, I just want to lay down and forget all of this ever even happened.
“That makes sense. I don’t want to overstep, but I think she’ll come around.”
I hate the hope that his assurance sparks inside me. “Yeah?”
His eyes find mine again, and they soften. “She’s your mom, dude. I know you guys have had a rocky relationship for a while now, but I’ve been here for about a month and a half. She misses you. She cares about you. You just need to sit down and talk with her and she’ll eventually realize that she hasn’t been all that fair with you.”
It’s like I’m talking to a different person entirely. Six months ago, we never would’ve been caught dead in the same place together, or even exchanged anything other than middle fingers and snide insults. Garrett was the enemy, someone worming his way into my life to evict me from it. He wanted to replace me and give Mom the son she never really had.
That’s not him anymore, and honestly, it’s still kind of tripping me up. He may be a smartass, and really fucking annoying, but he’s not half bad. Not even a quarter bad.
“Everything is just hard right now. I’m exhausted from work, and I can’t even talk to her about it because she has a way of making me feel like it’s useless. That I don’t contribute anything to anyone. In her eyes, the only kind of work that’s respectable is the kind of work you hate doing. What I do is just…for fun, I guess?”
“I’ve read your comments, Noel. You’re not just doing this for fun. You do research into every town you visit. Your Q&A advice videos go above and beyond. That’s work, and even if she doesn’t see it that way, it doesn’t go unappreciated.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Garrett lets out a soft sigh, turning his attention back on the road. Something is weighing on him but he remains silent, eyebrows low and his jaw tensing infrequently. Finally, after an uncomfortably long period of silence, Garrett says,
“I liked the way your mom treated me. I liked the praise. I don’t have that same kind of confidence that you have. You think I’m this arrogant person, but Elizabeth is the only one that’s ever really said she was proud of me. She’s the only one that thinks highly of me.”
“Really? What about your dad?”
He snorts. “Dad’s great, but he’s never been that kind of man. Not with me. Not like he was tonight. Truth be told, I’ve heard how he talks with you, and I want that. I want him to tell me that he’s proud more often. Or even care about the work I do like he cares about your channel. But it’s like you said. He hated his job, so he just sees it as something I should be doing. It’s not interesting to him like it is to me.”
There’s another moment of quiet.
“I wanted what Dad gave you, and Elizabeth gave it to me. And I loved it, because I hated you. It made you upset whenever she’d compliment me, and it felt like revenge for all the times Dad would talk about your channel or wherever you and Landry went. But that’s fucked, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m seeing how bad it’s made things, and I feel like…like maybe I played a role in what’s going on between you and Elizabeth?”
It doesn’t seem possible that someone like Garrett could be jealous of me. All the money he could want. The girls, the cars, the successful job. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and he was focused on me. But I can’t be hypocritical. To him, I must look ridiculous too. All the subscribers and trips and freedom, worried about a guy that I didn’t ever have to see.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, shaking my head. I may not know how to go about any of this, but I know that my issue with Mom is between us. “You may have stoked the flames, but the fire was already there, Garrett.”
“I guess. But you asked why I’m not being a douchebag anymore, and that’s why. That’s how I feel. I feel bad for playing even a small role in any of this, because I would never want someone to come between me and Dad. I’m sorry, Noel.”
I barely notice him park near the front of the hotel. Garrett Bishop, apologizing to me. It’s as if Babe just got his wings and Satan can finally go ice skating. “Well. Thank you for being honest. And apologizing.”
“You look shocked,” he laughs.
“I kind of am. But it’s a good kind. Pleasantly surprised.” I can’t help the toothy smile. “And I’m sorry for making you feel the way you do too. I didn’t know, but it makes sense. All this parent stuff is just—it’s a whole lot. But if you’re willing to try with me, I think we might be able to work it all out. What do you say?”
“No,” he says, shrugging impassively. He can only hold the expression for so long before he also cracks a smile. “Sure. We’ll figure it out.”
“Cool.”
He nods. “Cool.”
Outside, it’s started to sprinkle, and we both sit with our eyes glued to the windshield as tiny water droplets dot the glass. It’s rhythmic, steady taps filling the void of conversation. It’s almost too comforting to leave, but I should.
“I should go now.”
“You sure you’re good?” he asks cautiously.
I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you. For everything. The ride, the talk, all of it.”
Garrett claps a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze, smiling. “Don’t mention it, man. I’m gonna be better about this. Y’know, us.” He doesn’t pull his hand back immediately, and I can’t ignore the way I enjoy his fingers working into my shoulder.
I turn to him, waiting for him to retreat, only the moment never comes. His gaze never leaves mine, and his hand stays firmly planted until it begins crawling higher, towards my neck. Another tender squeeze. And slowly, uncharacteristically fondly, he pulls me closer. Closer to him. Close enough that I can feel his warm breath and smell the mint gum on his tongue.
Far too close for what we are.
Brothers.
Shamefully, that isn’t enough to send me fleeing from the car. It’s a thought lost immediately in the depths of my terrible short term memory, abandoned just as quickly as it first appeared. It’s not the same. In this moment, there’s no need for that kind of confusion, no soul searching or questioning of the legalities of this intimate instance. All I know is that I want him to kiss me. I want him to put an end to this torturous teasing and just do it.
And he finally does.
His lips are exploratory, light and timid in the beginning. We feel it out, a few gentle pecks following the first, long kiss. There’s something inside of me that’s tightly coiled and waiting to explode, but I contain myself, savoring the way his plush lips feel on mine and how his breathing is becoming more and more laborious.
When his tongue finally presses past my lips, I feel chills race down my spine and the small of my back. It’s like lightning the way he makes the hairs on my arms stand. Garrett’s grip tightens on my neck, pulling me closer yet, his nose pressed against my cheek as he deepens our kiss.
The rain on the window grows harder, from a sprinkle to a shower.
Garrett’s tongue is wet and warm against mine, slick and sweet, and I moan around it. I reach across the console and take his face in both hands, giving him little room to pull away the same way he has me in his grip. Not that either of us even wants to.
He blindly searches for the release to his seat belt, and when he finds it and frees himself, Garrett turns to me more, pulling
away briefly to curse against my lips. “Fuck,” he whispers, and I smile wide, nipping at his bottom lip.
“Okay,” I say just as quietly.
He seems caught off guard, but quickly recovers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Come up to my room.”
“Oh, so the hotel is your room, but the one back home isn’t mine?”
I take him by the face and kiss him again, silencing his quip. “Shut the fuck up. Am I going upstairs alone, or are you gonna come up there and fuck me?”
He threads his fingers through my hair, tugging from the root. “I’m gonna go up there with you and fuck you.”
A devilish smile tugs at my lips with the same force as Garrett’s hand. “Good.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the car, heading to the front desk. I don’t have to turn around to check if he’s there. I know that he’s behind me, following me inside.
By the time we make it to the hotel room, there’s a downpour outside.
Chapter 5
Who Garrett is to me is the last thing on my mind, at the bottom of my list of priorities. So many things fall far above the fact that our parents are together, and that this could be considered inappropriate, like the fact that I’ve prided myself on not being the type of guy to have random flings in hotel rooms, yet here I am now. Or, and more pressingly, the way my cock aches feeling Garrett push me past the threshold of the room and lock the door behind us.
He stands in the doorway, watching as I sit down and tug off my wet clothes, his eyes tracking every one of my moves. I stare back just as shamelessly, taking pleasure in seeing the way his soaked shirt seems to cling to the valleys and hills of his well-sculpted chest.
Fuck, he looks good.
Not good.
He looks bad in the same way a pint of gelato looks after a breakup. I want to indulge myself in his flavor, to feel his sweetness in my mouth and flooding my senses. I want to cry into his shoulder, only not out of sadness but rather from pure ecstasy.
Garrett pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor, slowly approaching the foot of the bed where I sit. He folds his arms across his chest and looks down at me. Weeks ago I would’ve been disgusted by all of this, but now the only thing I’m sickened by is the fact that he still isn’t bare ass naked right now.
“Undo my pants,” he says, and I obey like I’m getting paid for this. I work the leather through the metal buckle with impatience, tugging it free from the loops and dropping it to the carpet. With the same energy, I undo his button, watching with anticipation as more and more of his underwear is revealed when I drag down the zipper.
There’s a brief moment when he grabs my wrist, stopping the movement. My heart skips a beat and my eyes dart up to his, concerned. “What?” I ask.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
How dare he ask me such a heavy question right before I have his dick in my hand. Sitting up on my knees, I’m eye to eye with him, and I pull him in for another slow, greedy kiss. Just as he allows himself to start to enjoy it, I pull back.
“It doesn’t have to be a good idea. It can just be…this.”
“Just between us?”
“It’s bonding, Garrett,” I smile darkly. “Nothing wrong with a little brotherly love.”
His lips are on mine again, forceful. He steals more kisses before he tosses me onto the bed, shucking his slacks down to his ankles. He kicks them aside, then joins me down on the bed, crawling towards me in only a pair of socks and black boxer briefs.
It’s impossible to keep my lips off of him, and while he undresses me, I find myself clawing for him, sucking on his neck. Anywhere I can get my mouth is in danger, but Garrett doesn’t fight me. He strips me down so that we match, groping my dick through the blue striped fabric of my underwear. Almost instantly I’m hard, leaking like a faucet.
“Fuck,” I groan into his mouth, and he chases that sentiment with a quick kiss, chuckling.
“You’ve got a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, squeezing my dick harder.
“You gonna wash it out with soap?”
“I’ve got something for you that might taste a little better than soap.”
Garrett raises his hips and tugs down his underwear, his heavy cock springing free. It rests against his stomach, thick and much longer than anticipated. I always imagined the girls and cars he posted on Instagram were him just compensating. He’d need to drive a monster truck for that to be the case.
“I’ll be the judge of how it tastes,” I inform him, forcing him onto his back. Turning onto my side, feet near the headboard, I lean in to get a better look at him. Up close, he’s even more beautiful. His cock throbs with his pulse, something that quickens once I reach out and take hold of him. I stroke slowly, watching tight skin slide over rigid veins, and when I give a firm squeeze, like clockwork a pearl of precum forms at the tip.
His eyes are glued to mine when I plant a kiss to the head. It’s chaste, but it’s effective. His grin warps into a grimace, and a groan fills the silence of the room. “Again,” he insists, putting his hands behind his head. “Kiss it again.”
And again, I kiss him. Slower this time. Dragging my lips in circles, making a mess of the head. As my fist leisurely pumps him, I poke out my tongue, tracing the shape of his swollen tip and tasting him for the first time. The flavor is mild, nothing unexpected, but the pleasure is more from the texture. Thick, like syrup, a welcome sign that he’s as anxious for this as I am.
Rather than prolonging this any further, I lower my head and begin to suck him, his warmth filling my mouth perfectly. The way he tickles the back of my throat at first makes me want to cough, but I control my breaths, focusing more on how Garrett seems to be beside himself.
There’s a kind of power down here between his legs. No matter how well-off and successful he is, no matter how many girls he’s fucked or fights we’ve had, he’s weak. Human. And I’ve made him feel good enough to put down the guard and let me have control.
Although, the control doesn’t last all that long.
Garrett rolls his hips beneath me, watching as I hollow my cheeks, sucking him off. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and he looks like he’s giving me a halfhearted scowl, laser-focused on the way I’m working him between my lips.
When his hips begin to stir more and he thrusts forward to meet my bobbing, he slides a hand beneath the elastic of my underwear and fishes my dick free. And because he’s an ill-mannered asshole, he tugs me in the opposite way, letting go suddenly so that my dick slaps against my stomach.
“Stop playing with it,” I scold.
“But I’m having so much fun.” He laughs, then turns and takes me into his mouth.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Jesus Christ, if I knew he wouldn’t make fun of me for the rest of time, I’d come right then and there. I’m not a fast shooter, but I’ve also never gone this long without head, nor have I ever had someone like Garrett being the one to fill that emptiness. All this time, I thought he was straight, but Garrett doesn’t suck dick like a straight guy.
There’s skill to it, how he hides his teeth behind his lips and the way he rolls the flat of his tongue against the underside of my dick. He’s done this before, plenty of times, I’d wager, and I’m lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it. His skill does bring out the competitive edge in me, though, and I grow quickly determined to win this.
He’s going to come before I do.
As if sensing the difference in the way I bob my head, Garrett steps it up as well, working me deeper down his throat. I feel his muscles contract around me, and he grabs my ass between his hands hard, squeezing and massaging me. If I were standing, I’d be trembling. I whimper against him, the noise growing louder when he rolls onto his back, bringing me with him.
Up on my knees, it makes it easier for me to take more of him. The angle is better, and I seize the opportunity, moving my head faster, groaning around him as I fight not to lose myself in the pleasure. I could
easily give in. I could let him make me come undone, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. Not this time.
While the new angle is great for me, it immediately proves to be my downfall. Garrett grips my ass easily, slapping it hard enough to make me jump. He’s too fucking good, a fact that’s only cemented when he pulls away and drags his tongue down the length of my cock. He doesn’t stop when he reaches my balls either, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. With his hand still pumping me at a quick pace, he teases the sensitive skin of my sack, drawing lines, kissing, and eventually, sucking.
I’m done for. I want to quit. Get that fire exit door, I’m off. He’s good looking, employed, and he doesn’t ignore the balls. He doesn’t ignore the balls.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks. I start to pull away to respond when his hips rise unexpectedly, forcing himself back down my throat. “Shut up. I know you do.” That throaty laugh is like a velvet whip, his stinging disrespect somehow pleasant. I lose myself in it, drooling around his dick, eyes squeezed tight.
Garrett, like the sadist he secretly must be, has one last trick up his sleeve. He tightens his grip around me and drags his tongue even further, past my taint and over my hole. My knees buckle, tempted to give out. It’s as if the weight of my own body has tripled, almost becoming too much to bear. I want to collapse entirely.
“You gonna come, Noel?” he asks, biting my cheek before he turns his attention back to my hole, tracing circles over me. “Come for me. Lemme see you blow that load. Give it to me.” The softness of his orders become sharper, and he tightens his thighs around both sides of my head, trapping me. “Gimme that fucking load, Noel,” he demands. I’m at his mercy, moaning around his cock as he practically tongue fucks me, and I do. I come for him.
I cry out against him, writhing as I pump my load on his chest. His tongue doesn’t stop, and that evil chuckle fills my ears like it’s coming from my own thoughts. He won. The bastard won, just like he always does. But just like his announcement about his house, I’m happy for him. I’ll let him relish in his victory while my head swims in pleasure and every last one of my nerves vibrates relentlessly.