098. Writer's Choice — Winding down

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Moving has been so stressful, packing up all their things, leaving Arizona, leaving dad.

Sam complains about feeling bad, all day, giving Michael a faint pseudo-pout on his quilted duvet.

With a smirk, Michael pretends to heave a big, ole sigh, hugging his muscular, bare arms around Sam's waist, holding him close like they were kids. He whispers about making him feel better, rubbing the insides of Sam's arms, nuzzling his lips to Sam's ear, sipping it and biting down gently.

His brother squirms noticeably against Michael's chest, letting out soft and high-pitched noises when Michael pumps him through his underwear, feeling how damp Sam gets, making his white briefs sticky with pre-cum.

Michael lays down on the pinstriped duvet with a groan, dragging a flushed, garble-protesting Sam entirely on him, pressing his chub on Sam's bottom, unable to touch him through their clothes.

He cradles Sam's legs with his own, humping beneath him until Sam whines, his hips bouncing erratically on top of Michael. His palm grinds on Sam's dick, coaxing him towards a quick, filthy orgasm, feeling it happen. The scent of their arousal, wafting in Sam's postered, dimly-lit bedroom is almost too much.

Michael imagines bruising up his kid brother's ass, his shoulders and his neck, each part of him, every sensitive area, with his mouth, marking him.

It's only a thought.

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The Lost Boys isn't mine. SPAAAAACE FACT! Halley's Comet won't be in orbit back around Earth until 2061! Long time! I'll probably be dead by then!