Author: Jacob M. Bosch

Rated: Akin to an R rating

Spoilers: Nothing you haven't seen before

Warnings: Oh, boy... well, incest, for one, and slash on top of that. You've been warned.

Summery: Ryan made his choice and kept his promise.

Note: The whole Jonathon going batshitcrazy storyline? I'm sorry, but it had all kinds of incest-y vibes. I hate my brain sometimes. I see naughty subtext everywhere.


They arrived on the island two months ago and checked into a chalet on the edge of the white-sand beach—a huge affair with three bedrooms, kitchen, den and an over-sized bath. Jonathon doesn't leave the suite and stays in bed. Ryan has barely left his side. He spends hours on end stroking his brother's bare back, his fingertips strumming the cords of tension etched in every muscle. Sometimes it takes a whole day to ease that tenseness away; sometimes it wouldn't disappear until Jonathon drifted fitfully to sleep. Ryan left the bed then, his body often missing the warmth his brother's impressed on him after so many hours together. He'd sit by the bay window overlooking the black pacific sea—it was often late at night when Jonathon surrendered to sleep—and fight not to think about all he'd left behind to save his brother.

It always occurred to him during those moments, almost alone, how dramatic his decision turned out; how everything came down to choosing one thing or the other: His little brother or his wife. But was there really any choice to begin with—a question worth asking with an answer worth giving? No, not really. He knew Jonathon needed more help than he was capable of providing, but he promised. Just them. He hoped Jonathon might relinquish his desperate need of him someday, but for now Ryan was enough to stop the madness from seeping and taking over.

Today Jonathon found interest in the ocean beyond their four walls. Ryan watched him from the bed. Jonathon was nude and Ryan could see how the sun lit his skin, saw how it made him bright.Ryan's gut tightened. Jonathon was getting so pale.

Ryan was also a concerned with the sun up other hotel residents or beachcombers could see Jonathon, garnering attention they didn't need. But the lower half of Jonathon's lean, hard body was well hidden below the window ceil and a shirtless male in his hotel room wasn't such an odd sight.

Jonathon killed people. Ryan has to remind himself every time he looks at him. Had to remind himself he wasn't seeing a small, fair-haired boy wearing Ryan's hand-me-down clothes that were hand-me-downs even before Ryan got them, trembling in dirty sneakers at the sound of their father's voice.

"Come back to bed, Jonathon," Ryan says.

Jonathon continued to look out the window. "How can you stand to touch me?"

"I love touching you. I want to touch you."


"Come back to bed."

Sometimes it's easier when Jonathon's delusional. It happened less and less as the medication Ryan bought and horded before escaping started balancing the tilt in Jon's head. Gripped in his psychosis Jonathon just wanted Ryan to hold him and assure him he'd never be alone again, and Ryan wanted nothing more than to do both—for the rest of his life.

When Jonathon became lucid, the guilt and self-loathing was crippling. Ryan needed to be especially careful to keep a close eye on him then. He'd removed anything sharp from their room and monitored the meds; suicide was a very real possibility when Jonathon was sane.

"You must think I'm twisted…"

"You weren't yourself, things got confused in you mind… it wasn't all your fault."

Jonathon turned and met Ryan's eyes with a glassy stare. Ryan tried not to flinch at the lifeless expression on his brother's face. "Not any of that. You and me."

Ryan didn't know what to say; he didn't know what Jonathon wanted to hear. Ryan moved off the bed and to Jon who looked blank, like he didn't see Ryan's approach but another reality where unspeakable horrors existed. For the moment Ryan put it out of his head the two of them were standing exposed to the world and pulled his brother to him, their naked bodies fitting together with newly learned familiarity. Jonathon inhaled sharply when Ryan quickly grew hard against his abdomen.

"What does it say about me," Ryan started, sliding his arms around Jon's trim waist, "that I get hard, ready, just touching you?"

"Y-You're only doing this to make me happy," Jonathon said leaning his face in close to Ryan's neck. Ryan heard Jonathon sniff at his skin and felt his arousal heighten at the action.

"You think I don't enjoy how you feel, how you sound, when I'm in you so deep," Ryan let his hands drop to Jonathon's rear and squeezed hard for emphasis, "you think you're making me do anything I don't want?"

Jonathon maneuvered his hands up between their bodies, his palms resting flat against Ryan's stomach and let them glide up until they brushed over Ryan's broad chest. "You're really here," he said.

"Forever. Come to bed."

"Okay," Jon whispered and let Ryan lead him back to the bed.