Heat

Note for the uninformed: Blake and Pete are the same person. Pete is his first name, Blake is his middle name. He prefers the name Blake, thus he is Blake to himself and Pete to Ken.

~

Ken could hardly remember a time when his younger brother had been only a brother. It had been only in the past year that Pete had wanted more from Ken than people would expect from their siblings. They were only related by their mother’s blood but it had always been enough to keep Ken from acting out any sort of sexual fantasies he may have had about the boy.

But now, as Pete pulled off Ken’s glasses and set them aside before using his fingers and teeth to undo the buttons of Ken’s shirt, it was difficult to find the logic that he had made use of all these years.

The boy Ken knew had grown into a man, though to Ken he would always be just a boy. Seventeen years old and with the intense hazel stare of a competitor, Pete had been and always would be pretty, even though his soft pale skin had changed into lightly-tanned lean muscle and he didn’t smile as much as he used to.

Ken’s wandering hands found solace in Pete’s hair, a mess of dark brown and bleach-blond and still damp from the shower. He knew Pete often didn’t like kissing, but Ken let his lips brush over the boy’s, let his teeth tug at a lip. A heat rose in his chest when his efforts were rewarded with a moan.

Although they had been sleeping together for almost a year, Ken was still unsure as to how or why it started. Pete had always been popular with girls and boys and Ken was sure a lot of the boys had been popular with Pete as well. And that, surely, could not have changed.

Ken didn’t consider himself attractive, no matter how often he joked about it. He was twenty-eight years old and wore his slight beer belly and love-handles as casually as he did his glasses and sweater-vests. He had probably never had a tan, his hair had never been anything but plain old brown, and the only six-pack that you would ever see with him had nothing to do with exercise and more to do with a budding alcoholism.

But he must have been doing something right. He didn’t think Pete gave pity fucks.

~

Ken had wonderfully large hands that Blake was delighted with. He pressed close to the older male’s body as Ken’s fingers danced all over his back in the process of lifting his shirt over his head.

Ken was the only person Blake felt helpless with. He would not allow himself to be helpless with anyone else. As both his hands pushed firmly against Ken’s chest, the man didn’t budge, but Blake knew he would if he was asked to. It was helplessly safe.

He was not embarrassed to make whimpering noises when Ken nibbled on his earlobe or squeezed his thigh. And he was unashamed to find himself in Ken’s lap.

They always did it in Ken’s bed. Ken had a double and his sheets had cartoon characters on them so that Blake remembered not to take things too seriously. From as far back as he could remember, he had always felt safe in Ken’s bed. It didn’t matter what the nightmares may have been about, because as soon as he was tucked under that Charlie Brown comforter nothing could hurt him.

Blake ran his fingers through the soft curls of dark hair on Ken’s chest, wriggling his hips to help the man slide his sweatpants off. He wasn’t sure if it was the cool air or Ken’s hot breath on his neck that made him shiver.

They explored each other now, Ken pinching Blake’s rear and Blake running his tongue and teeth over Ken’s collarbone. Hands wandered to each other’s sensitive spots, which they both knew. With some that became boring. Blake couldn’t explain his reasons why. Why he became bored with others but came back to his brother again and again.

Ken’s hands were in his hair again and their mouths were pulled together, tongues clashing, teeth pulling gently at lips. He really didn’t mind kissing so much, as long as it was heated and desperate.

~

Ken couldn't quite explain why, but he loved it when Pete grasped at the rolls of flab at his waist. It mattered not why Pete would want him. All that mattered was that he did. And that was evident from the heavy erection pressed against his stomach.

His palms closed over Pete’s ass and urged a rocking motion, which pulled a sigh from the boy’s lips. His arms wrapped around Ken’s neck and Ken turned his face into Pete’s underarm. He smelled faintly of sports and Degree. Like a man. Not how his scent had been as a child. Pure and diluted by innocence. Apple juice and new plastic.

Sighs turned into moans as Ken’s wandering fingers teased Blake’s entrance. Rough hands clutched at Ken’s shoulders, a breath heavy in his ear. The boy was still so tight. His free hand fumbled beside them on the bed until Pete made a whining sound and reached around Ken’s back, locating the bottle of lubricant that Ken was searching for.

Ken smiled and kissed his impatient sibling, a distraction while he worked open the bottle and coated his fingers.

~

Blake never had to say anything. Ken was gentle when it was needed. A slick fingertip slipped inside him. The motion of his hips jerking pushed the digit deeper, a jolt of wonderful need shooting to his groin.

He didn’t need to say anything. Never beg. But he liked to sometimes.

“Brother, please...” he whispered. Liked the way Ken flinched with the reminder of the relationship. But a flinch was all there was and his hips were urged forward. He heard the sound of a zipper and felt Ken’s shuffling hand below.

He wrapped both legs around his older brother’s waist. Felt one large hand under his thigh, the other holding him open. He welcomed the gentle intrusion, a slow, careful process that burned a little. But he endured it until he was filled and the rocking movement began. It was soft. It was caring. But that would change soon.

Blake had never cared that Ken wasn’t huge. He had been with people much more endowed, in many ways, but Ken was the only one he let inside him. He was the only one who made it feel good. They rocked gently against one another until Blake’s fists relaxed and Ken tipped him backward onto the bed.

It was awkward. Ken was trying to keep his weight off of Blake, though he had been told numerous times that it was okay. Blake liked it. It was overwhelming. Covered and filled.

When Ken thrust deeply into him, he let out a gasp because they both loved the sound.

~

Ken’s groans matched timing with his brother’s sounds and the low slap of wet flesh on flesh. Pete’s hands grasped at Ken’s back, slick and slipping with the sweat.

“Ahh...brother...more,” in his ear. Making him pause only a moment then urging him on.

It no longer amazed him how easily he gave into sin. But he was still amazed at how Pete’s tight passage practically swallowed him up.

There was a sort of desperation now, taking hold of the both of them so there was no such thing as tender. But he could tell Pete liked it from the way his nails drug across Ken’s back. Ken’s thighs slapped against Pete’s rear, which he had propped up on his hand. The angle was perfect and Ken could drive his entire cock inside.

He thought he must have been crushing Pete with his weight but he no longer could hold himself up with his other hand wrapping around Pete’s length. He grunted with the effort of keeping the position. Pete was moaning in his ear.

A tell-tale cry gave the warning and warm fluid shot onto Ken’s stomach and over his pumping hand. Pete’s body went taut for a brief moment and he relaxed.

If he hadn’t been used to it by now, Ken would have felt bad for not coming to orgasm yet. But Pete gripped the pillow and didn’t make a fuss about it, Ken leaning back and holding tight to the boy’s hips, thrusting fast into him until he came.

Ken pulled out, the action making a wet slurping noise, and collapsed beside the boy on the bed. He probably looked utterly disgusting. Covered in sweat. His hair stuck to the back of his neck. But Pete reached for him. They held each other. And Ken didn’t feel disgusting or ugly. It didn’t matter what he had ever thought, done, or looked like.

Because his little brother whispered “I love you” in his ear.