Good night, darling. I hope you sleep well and never realize the thoughts that fill my mind in the darkest of the hours. I dream of lust, and anger, and consuming fire. I think of taking you up in my arms, any protests falling away unheard.
I stare down at you, and wonder what you would do if I touched my lips to yours. A sick kind of pleasure twists through my body, and settles in my abdomen.
You are my poison and my antidote. Your skin glows in the moonlight, and it's soft silvery sheen is begging me to touch you. The curve of your hip fits perfectly in my hand, but I won't reach for you. I just gaze down at your sleeping body, and allow the emotions to run wild through me.
I know if you stir from your slumber I will have to explain, but for the moment I'm not thinking about that. All I can see and feel is your presence and my obsession.
It's dangerous, and my brain is telling me to leave before your eyes open. My heartbeat must be loud enough for you to hear. I breathe out your name, almost by accident. My fingers move without permission, and stroke your obsidian hair away from your eyes.
The change in your breathing is so slight I almost miss it. I pull my hand back, and sidle into the shadows, hoping you will settle again.
You mumble something, but my pulse drowns your voice out. I catch my lip in my teeth, struggling against my heart. I win, and slowly leave your room. The last thing I hear as I slip out is one word, falling from you lips. Your voice is silky, and low.
Once again, I find myself hovering by your bed. Nothing about this world is right. That includes my feelings for you. I must never let you know.
The shadows fall over your skin in strange, fascinating patterns. Your body has turned into a marbled sculpture, lying so perfectly still. Only your breaths are seen, and those are infinitesimal movements, barely there. Desperation crowds out my sense, and I lift one finger to ghost over your collarbone. The feel of your skin fills my senses, and I shudder. Hot silk, liquid under my fingertip, burns through my system, and I close my eyes to savor the sensation.
I'm so lost in you, I don't notice you stirring at first. Your eyes flutter, and you sigh out a heavy breath. I jerk out of my reverie, and still all movement. My fingertip is still against you, frozen there. I don't move, terrified that you will wake up and catch me at my midnight game.
You roll out from under my finger, and seem to fall back into slumber. I breathe in relief, and pull my hand back from you.
Another nighttime excursion unimpeded. I can still feel you under my skin, and I know I will never lose that. No matter what happens, you will always be here, in my heart.
My obsession is worse than ever. I can't go one night without sneaking into your room. Daylight comes, and I store away every expression, every movement. I have a whole Bill library in my head. It leaves very little room for anything else.
I walk silently out of your room, and back into mine. Until tomorrow night, brother dear.
I can't keep doing this. It's burning me alive. I stare down at your innocence, and I realize that telling you of my feelings could destroy us forever. I also realize, however, that keeping them hidden is pushing us apart now.
We fought today. Tears and blood spilled, and I still have the pain stored inside of me. It wasn't your fault. It never is. You are too good for me. I know it, even if you don't. I don't deserve to be your brother.
I stopped thinking. I just reached out, and shook you awake. Your eyes open, wide and upset. The deep caramel brown sears through me, and I can't breathe. I stare into your soul for long moments, and you stay silent, just watching me.
I finally break the gaze, and stare, instead, at my hands. This is the moment of truth, the moment our lives will change, forever. I can tell you, or I can leave. It's all on me, now. Somehow, I find the courage, and I say those words, and our future together trembles.
"I am in love with you."
"I am in love with you."
There is a long pause, and I can't believe I have actually voiced my feelings. Out loud. I can't look at his face. I'm scared to see disgust or disdain there. The silence gets to me after a few tortuous moments, and I tentatively meet his gaze. He's staring at me blankly, mouth open a little. I look at the velvet-soft lips, and wonder what it would feel like to touch them. I jerk my mind back to what I am saying. "That's why I've been so distant recently. I didn't want to tell you, but after our fight today, I had no choice. I don't want to lose you as my brother because of my feelings."
I stop because there are tears welling in his eyes. Pain ripples through my body, and my heart crushes. "I know you don't feel the same way, Bill. Don't worry about it, I'll be in my room."
I physically tear myself away from his tears, but I pause in the doorway. "I want to stay brothers, Bill. I want things to be relaxed between us. I know how much you hate tension. I just don't know how to do that."
He nods, and I leave the room.
It's too much to wish he feels the same way. My eyes sting with tears, but I don't cry. I refuse. I'm stronger than that.
Morning starts making it's tenuous way into my consciousness, and I groan. My entire body is a dulled ache, which blossoms into pain when I move. My back is twisted into a million knots, and each one is determined to make my life miserable. Last night's fiasco comes back to me in a flood of emotion. Before I can think it through, however, Bill knocks on my door.
"You wouldn't believe the dream I had last night." He settles onto the bed next to me, fingertips brushing my bare shoulder. Delicious spikes of pain flow through my body as I shiver beneath his touch. Concern leaks into his expression. "Are you okay, Tomi?"
I wave a hand at my back. "Just knots."
He frowns, and pushes me down onto my belly. "You lay down and I'll fix that while I tell you about my dream."
I feel his weight press down on me. I clench my hands into tight fists. This is going to be hell and heaven, wrapped up in the form of a massage. I can tell that already, and he isn't even talking yet.
"So, I dreamed that you came into my room, and you were talking to me." He begins, his voice low. Each little thread of inflection affects my body, and my erection is making laying flat difficult. I decide to try to keep the tone light.
"That happens all the time, Bill." Crap, it didn't come out as teasing as I wanted it to.
He giggles, a beautiful voice chime. "Yeah, I know, but this time you were talking about weird things."
"What, like butterflies and green ale?" I ask, trying to focus on something disgusting. It doesn't work. I still feel his slender fingers, the pressure on my lower back where he is perching, his voice. It all goes directly to my groin.
"No, silly." He works a particularly difficult knot with talented fingers. "Like, love."
I'm glad he can't see my face. It's a burning, crimson mess. "What about love?"
His fingers still, and his weight shifts. I freeze as he breathes just behind my ear. The soft heat between us grows and explodes.
"You were telling me you love me." He whispers in my ear.
"I always do that." I whisper back. The intensity is about to drive me insane.
"IN love with me, Tomi." His breath drifts over the side of my face, leaving tingles in it's wake.
"Oh." I can't think straight. How would I respond to that if it had been a dream? I can't recall. My heart is trying frantically to escape, to beat it's way out of my chest.
His fingers begin to move again, and he leans back. "See, I told you it was weird!"
I nod. My brain is whirling in a million different directions. I want to tell him it wasn't a dream, so badly. My mouth isn't cooperating, though.
Before I know it, the massage is done, and he has left the room. I am left a trembling mess, heart exposed and mind awhirl. I know before long I will tell him it wasn't a dream. I collapse back onto the bed, and chew on my lip ring. How will he respond?
Once again it's a dark, moonlit night. I have a gentle smile on my face as I find myself back in your bedroom. This time, however, there is a feeling of trepidation that has never been there in my nighttime escapades. My palms are itching, and I can feel myself sweating. I have come to a decision, and I'm still not sure whether it's for the best, or not.
You are peaceful, now. I wonder if that calm will last the night. My body stutters as I reach for your shoulder. Your breath mists over my hand, and suddenly I can't move it. I stay there, frozen, feeling the moist, velvet warmth wash over my fingers. Lightning fills my limbs with electric warmth. I cannot disturb you now. I try to readjust my pajama pants, but no matter what I do, my erection still tents the fabric. The tips of my fingers brush over the head, and I bite my tongue to keep from moaning aloud.
Your eyes open, and suddenly I am staring into dark molten pools. I realize you hadn't been asleep, just relaxed. You sit up, all peace gone as your face twists into something I don't recognize. Fear has turned me to an icy statue, all warmth and movement disappeared.
Your gaze sweeps over my body, hovering over my groin for several seconds before staring me directly in the eyes. The buzzing in my ears intensifies, and I close my eyes, trying to keep breathing.
I feel your hand slip into mine, and my heart halts. You hug me, and your scent engulfs me. You smell like vanilla, cedar, and something I can't identify, something that is just you- just Bill.
"Ah, Tomi." You whisper against my ear. "Did you really think I didn't know?"
I feel a strange beat in my chest before I realize my heart has started up again. My brain can't process this. All I can feel is your soft body pressed against me, strands of ebony obscuring my vision.
You pull back from me, and slip your arms around my neck. Your eyes are hazy, and I realize you are intoxicated. "I've known for so long. Sometimes I think I've always known about you."
Now that I know you are drunk, I can smell the alcohol. I don't know how I missed it before, the scent permeates the entire room. I wonder when, and why, you started drinking.
I nuzzle into your hair, the softness tickling my nose. You tremble against me, and I try to lay you back down on the bed, but you pull me down with you, on top of you.
"Bill..." I can't focus. I'm now pressed up against a part of you that isn't soft. You arch your back, shoving our groins together roughly. I gape at you, confused. I think about everything too fast. You're hard, and I'm hard. You obviously want me- well, maybe not me, but someone- and I want you. No, that's not strong enough. I need you, mind, body, and soul. I have to possess your love. It's more important to me than breathing. My conscience yells at me, saying you are drunk, and taking advantage of you is wrong. My obsession, on the other hand, is keeping me here, telling me this wouldn't be happening if you didn't have sexual feelings for me. My hands rest on your hips. I stare down at your pale body as it writhes under me, and I make a decision that will haunt me in the morning.
I stand in the doorway, and watch your chest rise slowly, and then sink back down. The skin is pink, and a tiny bit splotchy from my palms. Your hair is mussed, and your face is at peace again. I wonder how much you will remember tomorrow. Will you remember your proposition? What about those long frozen minutes staring at each other, or the feeling of our most intimate embrace? Will you remember the need on my face as clearly as I have captured the expression on yours? Most importantly, will you remember my rejection?
Night has fallen again. This time, however, I stay in my own room. The entire day passed without a word spoken between us. I wonder if I disgusted you, if you really hate me now.
I lay sprawled across the bed, trying to figure out where I went wrong, when I hear the door open softly. I pretend to be asleep, hoping whoever it is will just leave. I can feel the pressure of waiting tears.
A soft hand runs down my back, and I stifle a tremble. I know it's you. I wonder what you want.
"Why did you reject me, Tomi?" Your voice has tears in it, and I can't take it.
I roll over, and capture your hand in mine. "You were drunk, Bill."
"Not so drunk as you thought." You crawl up on the bed, and hover next to me, one knee digging into my side. "Is that the only reason?"
I sigh. "We're brothers. As much as I want and need you, it's a dangerous path to follow."
You giggle, and drag me up to you. "A little danger is a good thing."
I stare up at your face, reading a total trust that scares me. Nothing in this world means more to me than you, and our relationship is balancing precariously. I cautiously inhale. No alcohol scent, which means you aren't drunk. I can't use that as an excuse this time.
You get tired of waiting on me to answer, and I feel your soft palms cupping my face. I barely have a chance to catch my breath before your lips are caressing mine. My heartbeat hurts, it's so strong. I can't keep from responding, not that I want to, really. I know there are many things we need to talk about, but all of them faded at first touch.
I feel your tongue gently touch my lower lip, and I open my mouth slightly. Your tongue traces my lips gently before slipping further in. Tingles are flowing all over my body, and fire seems to have lodged permanently in my chest and brain. I'm terrified someone will catch us at this forbidden game, and that makes the kiss even better.
Your tongue gently strokes mine, and suddenly I am flat on my back with you over me, hands pressing me into the mattress. There's a line of heat between your body and mine, and you slowly sink into it, allowing your weight to settle onto me. My mind has stopped. I can feel all of you. Our bodies match, although slight imperfections are there. Your hips are bony, and dig into my abdomen. My arms seem too long, and in the way. None of that matters, though, because you are there, with me, kissing me.
You lean up, and stare into my eyes. I take in the kiss-roughened lips, still slightly damp with my saliva, the wildly mussed black hair, and I can't keep from letting out a sigh.
I hope you don't change your mind about me, about this. It would destroy me.
As we kiss again, and my mind succumbs to your scent and presence, my last coherent thought is, ' I've gone and done it now, I've ruined you.' I somehow wonder if you'd see it the same way.
There's something strange about being in bed with you, my brother. It's a strange familiarity, as if I instinctively know what you'll feel like, and which touches you'll enjoy.
It's been several nights since our first encounter. We sit side by side on the bed, both deep in thought. My thoughts are filled with uncertainty, and anxiety. What if I do something wrong? What if I'm only good in bed with women? Finally, I speak. "Have I mentioned how hot your voice is?"
You laugh, but there's a sexuality to it that wasn't there before. I can see your hand tremble, and a powerful feeling floods my body. I'm causing that, I'm causing your uncertainty, your inability to control your body's responses. You are always so in control of yourself, it turns me on to realize I can make you lose it all. The thought occurs to me that maybe you are having second thoughts. I decide to put you at ease, and take your hand in mine. "You sure you want to do this?"
You look at me, eyes wide, amusement obvious. "Are you getting cold feet, Tom?"
I shake my head violently. "No, not at all! I just wanted-"
"Tom." You interrupt me, poking me in the side. I can't stop the giggle that emerges, and you suddenly are on top of me, hitting every ticklish spot my body has.
After several seconds of pure tickle torture, you pull back, chortling. I sigh in relief, both at the end of the tickling, and that you seem more comfortable.
You realize that you are straddling me about the same time I do. You grind down, experimentally, and I moan and pull you down for a kiss.
You attack me with kisses, and for long moments we lay there, joining and separating, harsh and soft, burning each other up.
The soft silk of our boxers is too much between us, and you tug at mine. I worry a little, hoping you won't think I'm too big, or too small, or too wide. I hope you like the way I look. You must see the fear, because you kiss my bellybutton and smirk up at me. "I've seen it before, honey, you don't have anything to worry about."
"You look at me when I'm naked?" I'm not sure why that surprises me.
You lick your lips, eyes dark as they stare into mine. "It's hard not to."
I moan at the thought of you watching me. I can feel your hand moving my boxers down my legs, and cool air bathes my cock, sending a chill through my body. Before I have a chance to do anything, though, your hot mouth engulfs me, and nothing else matters any more.
Time is lost, and so is the world around me. The only thing I feel is you: your tongue stroking the shaft, your throat when you try to take too much, your teeth when they run ever-so-gently over the head. It's more than the physical, though. There's so much love in your eyes, so much tenderness in your hands, that I can honestly say I've never seen you this way before.
You stop after several minutes, and I mumble incoherently.
"It's okay, Tom." You say, whispering in my ear. "I just want to try this."
You climb off the bed, and strip your boxers off. I stare blatantly at your erection, watching it bob gently as you climb back over me. I rest my hands gently on the hollows of your hips. There's an odd beauty about the hardness that is framed by my hands. It's smooth, and the skin is so pale I can see faint blue traceries of veins. You are perfect, every little centimeter of your body. I slide my hands up your sides, feeling you tremble. You stare into my eyes, and the rich chocolate pulls me in. I lean up to kiss you, and gasp into your mouth when our erections press together. I can feel you smiling against my mouth, and I pull back a little. "I want you in me. Now."
I'm startled by my own words, but once I have thought for a second, I realize that this is what I want. I want you in me, I want to know what it feels like to have you possess me.
Your eyes are storm-filled, emotions flickering so fast I can't read them. and you reach into the drawer next to my bed. I know what you are getting, and the thought makes heat pour through my body.
You kiss me, and it's enough to distract me for a few seconds, long enough for you to find what you were looking for. When our kiss ends, you hold up a small bottle of lube, and a purely masculine smile crosses your face. "Ready?"