by A. A. Davies
I hate it, but I listen every fucking time.
I’m jealous, but I refuse to hate someone who has a claim to his heart and body when I don’t. Maybe he’s bisexual and digs pussy as much as dick. It’s not my place to label him. I can barely label myself.
“I guess,” she mocks, trying to imitate my voice. “Don’t give me that bullshit line, HarHar.”
“That’s still the dumbest fucking joking to date,” I complain.
“Harley HarHar,” she teases and then bursts out guffawing, tipping her head back loudly and obnoxiously.
Not giving her the satisfaction of a laugh at her dumb impression, I flick her nose and walk away from her.
“Come on, Harley! I was just joking. Don’t be such a pussy!”
“Why not? Maybe you’d be nice to me then?”
“Okay, now who’s the one bad at jokes? That was lame, even for you.”
I chuckle and wait as she flops her boots like they’re fifty pounds per step.
“Smoke a joint with me,” she says. “Let’s not deal with people we don’t like, and then we can fool around if we get high enough.”
Grimacing, I think of the one time we tried that, testing our tastes. I like dick. She definitely likes pussy, but hands are okayish. Okay, not really, but we’ve attempted.
“Fine, but if your tits get close to me again, I’ll cry.” I’m not lying. They freak me out.
She’s covering her laugh but can’t stop the snort that slips out. Her visualization game is on point. I have the same.
“Yeah, I remember how that went last time,” she says. “Maybe we need two joints?”
“Nothing is going to stop me from being gay. Same goes for you. We can’t change what our bodies crave because we’re lonely.”
She nods and frowns a little. “It’s just lonely. Not many girls are gay here. Or if they are, they hide it. The ones who are open aren’t into me and same for me to them.”
“I still cart around a dick, dude. That’s not magically going to turn into a cunt, and at least there are lesbians here, Char. As far as gay goes, only Uly is out in the open. We both know how that went.”
We keep heading south toward the football field. Under the bleachers is where we get high. I’ve heard it’s a hot spot for fucking, but I haven’t witnessed a single couple. Maybe Uly only told me because he expected me to mess around.
After Aero practically beat him to death, we didn’t speak a word. He doesn’t even look in my direction anymore, which makes me feel even lonelier. The one dude who can possibly get me off won’t even acknowledge my existence.
Being different in any sense is so fucking isolating. People don’t warn you that coming out will make you an outcast. Imagine if they knew the only dick I wanted is related to me. Bet Maury wouldn’t have a facial expression for that clusterfuck.
We take the long trip across the field. It would be faster if Char didn’t wear huge ass boots that make her wobbly. She’s a klutz on her best days in ballet flats or Converse. On her bad days? It’s like she’s tanked on a fifth of gin.
“What are you going to do this summer?”
Her question comes out of nowhere and has me stopping to gawk at her. She has this expression, almost curiosity mixed with knowledge. Does she know something I don’t?
“Well, if Mom is getting high and Dad is fucking broads, I’m sure I’ll be getting high and finally losing my virginity,” I answer honestly.
Sometimes, people make big ass deals about innocence and whatthefuckever, but not me. Being me is a disease, I swear, being stuck with a reminder that no one has taken interested in me. It taunts me, telling me I’m useless, just like Dad always says.
“You know, I feel that.”
“Is that so? You’re hot. I’m sure some chick will stick her fingers up in that cave and do whatever you chicks do,” I badly explain, nearly gagging at the thought. Why does a woman’s parts make me so squeamish? And how the hell does my brother fuck Serenity when I couldn’t even finger my best friend when she wanted to get off?
Yeah, we probably shouldn’t do stupid shit when we’re high and drunk, but when you’re two losers unable to find love, you do what you can with who you can. Or at least, that’s what we tell each other. It hasn’t ruined us.
Yet.
The saddest part? Neither of us really enjoy it. I mean, we both always come, but it’s to our own twisted fantasies of other people. It has nothing to do with each other. We don’t communicate or look at each other. It’s honestly really fucking awkward. I’ve always wondered if that’s how hookers got off with Johns. Do they pretend they are somewhere else with someone else? Do they enjoy the sex? It’s nothing against what they do. They’re just fulfilling the needs of others, but how do they deal with it?
“You’re thinking awfully hard, HarHar,” she comments, staring at my face.
What? Is my forehead wrinkly? Do I look like I can’t read? Because that’s how I feel like I look.
“Yeah, let’s light up,” I say, diverting her attention from me.
“Right now?”
I peer around us, seeing nothing but open field. Gym starts in fifteen minutes. Then we’ll be more at risk.
“Yeah, may as well. No one’s out here.”
She nods at me and pulls out her joint. It’s fucking huge. She’s never made it this big. I find myself smiling at the relief we’re both about to get. We might even be high enough to get off.
The problem with her hands on my dick is that they’re too small and dainty. My brother’s hands are huge, veiny, and calloused. I’ve imagined what that texture would feel like against the soft flesh of my shaft.
My body heats as I picture it. Fuck.
She takes a long drag, holding it for longer than usual. Grabbing my arm, she brings our lips close, and I know what she’s about to do. I open a little for her as she blows the smoke into my mouth. It rises, and I sense the hiss of it through me immediately. Finally letting it out, I feel the tightness in my chest ease. Fuck yeah. This is exactly what I needed.
We only get two puffs in before rounding the back gate behind the bleachers. She and I both stare at each other before we wedge inside the huge hole.
One would think the school would patch this up, especially if they don’t want to risk delinquents like us getting out, but they’re not very bright. They don’t lock the locker rooms or classrooms that aren’t being used for free periods. The library is the only thing with detectors, and that’s only because books are apparently expensive.
When we creep past the metal fencing, we hear noises. My ears perk up, recognizing that sound. If the years of porn didn’t educate me, Netflix’s lack of censorship—which is dope by the way—definitely taught me a thing or two. First, vaginas aren’t cute. Next, women’s moans are prettier than men, but something about it grates on my ears. It doesn’t make me hard.
The skin slapping, though? Whether a dude is slipping in an ass, mouth, or cunt, that did it for me. It harmonized with each connection, making a sloppy noise that I enjoyed. Besides the high-pitched moans, I can hear that familiar clap resounding.
We exchange open-mouthed expressions.
Guess it’s time for me to see what the hype is about.
We sneak quietly around the base of the bleachers, past the biggest metal beam in the cement brace. I see the two people, one bent over grabbing her ankles.
I wish I hadn’t decided to miss class.
My eyes connect with my brother’s. His one green and one soulless blue orbs meet mine. A smirk curves his lips as he sneers at me. It’s a mixture of evil and sensual. I hate it.
I assume the girl is Serenity. She hasn’t spotted us yet, but my brother’s gaze hasn’t veered off. It’s connected with mine.
His thrusts pick up as he glowers as me, his body hitting hers harder. Her moans get louder and more annoying. I close my eyes, and as if hearing his silent command to not be a little bitch, I open them again in time to see him release inside her with a grave
lly grunt.
Not realizing it sooner, I notice Char isn’t looking at them. She’s squeezing my arm hard, her nails biting into my flesh, but my dick is so hard and disgusted at what it just witnessed that her pain doesn’t register on my mind.
“You okay?” I whisper, leaning in so only she’ll hear.
“Fuck no. God. Goddammit.”
Her words are fast and annoyed, sad maybe? That doesn’t make sense unless… Is she into Serenity?
“Ohmygod!” Serenity squeals. There she goes with that inane high voice of hers. “D-Did you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ren,” my brother barks harshly.
That’s when Char lets her grip of me go and rushes him. “Don’t you talk to her that way, you piece of shit!”
She’s up in his space, but he has over a foot on her, even in her big shoes.
“What, is Suicide Barbie jealous? Can’t get your own pussy, so you pine after mine?” he taunts.
“Stop!” I roar, stomping toward my brother and pushing him backward.
The initial touch of our skins causes mine to burn in return. His forehead is all sweaty. The normally blond locks look nearly brown, soaked in his sex-filled labor. He glares at me, his two different eyes sending shivers down my spine while also making me hate myself for enjoying his attention. It’s been so fucking long. I’m starved for it. Ravenous.
His hand grips my bicep hard, indenting my skin in a way that should hurt but has my dick pulsing in tempo of my heartbeat instead. He leads me away, his face pinched in an unreadable way. It could be frustration, aggravation, or something I want.
Lust.
“Did you enjoy the little show, Trouble?” he mocks.
Hearing my nickname on his lips does something to me. It makes my heart run rampant and my palms sweaty. God, the inability to breathe correctly flusters me.
“You like seeing me sink my cock in girls? Turn you on—”
“Fuck. Be quiet,” I hiss, peering around us. We’re far enough away from the two chicks that they can’t hear us, but still, it’s not exactly world knowledge that I’m sick. The risk is too high. He hasn’t spoken two words to me in a year, yet he’s turning me on with his callouness. For what? For fucking what?
“Scared your little bitch will hear what your tastes are like?”
I meet his eyes at that. For a millisecond, they soften and then, like a camera flash it’s gone.
“Don’t call her that,” I say. My voice is too calm, almost detached. If I sink into him again, fall for his abyss-inducing thrall, I’ll break. I’ll do something he won’t like and fuck us up for good.
“Why? Does it make your little dick hard?” he derides, his top lip curved up, showing his teeth.
Will he gnash at me next? Bark? Jump me like a goddamn animal? It wouldn’t be a reach, not with him. Never with him.
“Aero,” I beg, my voice a mere whisper. I don’t want to set him off when there are people watching, people who could ruin our lives, more than I’ve already done for us. “Why are you doing this?”
He turns us so his back is to them. With his height four inches on mine, he towers me. After a breath, he grips my throat, squeezing the sides loosely but harshly enough to make me shake.
My dick jumps.
Goddammit.
My response to him isn’t nature versus nurture. It’s bad and wrong and wrong and wrong.
“I’m doing this because I’ve spent the worst year of my existence avoiding my own flesh and blood,” he growls, flaring his nostrils as if they’ve betrayed him for existing. “I’ve had to fuck some stupid bitch while thinking of dicks and sticking it in their asses while they cry from both pain and pleasure.”
He leans forward. The crisp air bites at me almost as harshly as he does with his existence. It’s like he wants to kiss me, eat my horror for a midday snack, and make me his slave once again.
“I’m beyond pissed that I can only get off with one memory in mind, Harley. Every goddamn moment I’m in her cunt and its silkiness grips me, I die inside because the one person I want—the one I’d fuck until he cries—isn’t someone I can have.”
Who is he talking about? Who drives him insane?
My breathing has gone shallow, and my skin prickles. My dick? God, it throbs. It’s in tandem with my heartbeat, and I swear I lean into him. Or is it a hump? I’m not sure, but I whimper. It’s loud and clear as day. His grip tightens, and a hiss escapes me at the pleasure riding me.
“I want you to bleed, Trouble. I want to slice your skin with my blade and bend you over my car and drive into you. My cock craves that ass of yours, but not until after I’m done making it red and raised from my palm,” he growls, his voice lower and heated.
It’s me he’s talking about?
“It’s your mouth I wish I could choke with my rod, Harley. It’s you I want to hurt so fucking bad it feels just as good. And your tears as they leave your face? I want those too.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. My orgasm literally skirts my shaft, and he hasn’t even touched me.
As if he knows, he reaches down, slips inside my skinny jeans and flexes his fist around me.
“You see, little brother, you’ve woken the monster that lays awake at night haunting you under your bed, waiting for the perfect moment to steal your blood and fuck you dead. That’s all I’ve wanted since we’ve kissed. That’s all I crave. It’s all I fucking think about.”
He pumps me three times and leans in, licking my ear.
“Now come like the little freak you are, thinking of your big brother sinking inside those tight virgin walls of yours.”
And I do.
I fucking explode in the tight confine of my black denim jeans and all over his ruthless hate- filled palm.
He lifts it out with a hateful smirk and licks two fingers as he stares at me blatantly. My knees grow weak as he lets go of my throat and rubs his cum-covered palm across my face, chuckling darkly.
“Watch yourself, Harley. Next time, I won’t be so kind.”
When he struts away as if he didn’t just make his brother nut, I noticed both Serenity and Char are gone.
I sit flat on my ass with soaked jeans, my own seed on my cheek, and more shame than I’ve ever felt.
That tiny high I had has long past subsided, and my dick weeps with its first taste of man.
Correction. It weeps for my goddamn brother.
Chapter Three
Aero
One year. Three-hundred and sixty-five days. Give or take.
It might even be possibly longer since I’ve avoided my baby brother. When you’re supposed to protect your younger sibling since your parents abandoned you both, lines blur really quickly. Well, they aren’t supposed to, but for us, they had.
As soon as he turned sixteen, I noticed his eye stray to guys. Even now, I haven’t come out to other than him. I’m the captain of the baseball team. Of course I’m not going to tell anyone.
Do you know what happens in Odessa when you decide to come out? You’re a spotlight. We’re not as small Valley West, but we’re just as primitive, which means alienation on the best days and a hospital bed on the worst. No thanks.
Sweat still lines my spine from Trouble’s fascination with me.
My mind jumps to earlier, from the lead-up of ramming into Serenity and hating the smell of her and the wetness of her slick heat to visualizing my little twink brother just to get hard.
She begged me for it, literally got on her knees in attempt to suck me off. By the way, like most chicks, she sucks at it.
Pun intended.
In the year we’ve been seeing each other, she’s barely learned to wrap her lips around it. It’s a feat in and of itself to get my dick hard.
Even then, she’s as clueless and untalented as Alan Fredrickson on the Thespian team. He may be the leader and head of all plays, but he doesn’t have a talented bone in his flimsy body. Fuck. That’s the exact description of my girlfriend. She’s talentless but looks pretty.
As sad as it sounds, that defines you in this shit hole.
Holding up the standard of golden boy of Odessa bores me, but someone has to do it. It’s the only thing that keeps me above the drivel of loserdom like my brother and eighty percent of this school, and it gives me options for when I get the fuck out of this town. Maybe that makes me heartless or soulless. Don’t care either way.
My life wasn’t promised, but my future sure as hell will be. How else would I escape? Especially if I have any chance of taking Harley with me. There’s no chance in hell I’ll leave him behind. Whether he likes me or not right now, abandoning him isn’t in the cards.
“Did you really let your brother watch us fuck?” Serenity snipes, bringing my mind back to the moment. It’s nearly time for practice, but she doesn’t care. All she wants is attention and love.
Gag me, please.
Love shouldn’t be forced or driven by how amazing you are at everything you try. Ren doesn’t get that. She thinks that since we’re both socialites, which isn’t true for me, we should be together and happy. Does that make a lick of sense anywhere on this horrible shit place we call earth?
“What? Did you want me to stop? You seemed to be enjoying my dick enough,” I mutter boringly
She scowls, hiking her bag strap higher, as if that brings an ounce of confidence forward.
Serenity oozes that shit when people are around, but inside, we both know she is a sad, broken girl who doesn’t know what the fuck daddy problems hide beneath her skin.
“Shut up!” she hisses, smacking her dainty palm over my mouth.
If it were Harley, what I would do to such a disrespectful move… His ass would be red, and his blood would be mine. Ren isn’t Trouble. She’s stupid, but she’s not yelling for reaction.
“My reputation can’t handle that kind of confirmation,” she says.
Her words only add more water to my oil fire, making it burn and spark stronger.
Gripping her wrist, I wrench her palm away. She stares at me in shock, but she fixes it for a fake smile. Ever the actress.
“If you really cared about your reputation, you would date a sweet guy who gives a fuck about you. However, you don’t care. It’s a cross between wanting to be some stupid gossip girl and being popular. Why go with me, the meanest prick on campus, unless the point is to be noticed?”