untitled - short story
As Kellen's freshman year of high school came to an end, and as his father set up his very own customs shop, his behavior was coming to a head. He was staying out all night, drunk or high every day, and doing very poorly in school. Pulling some strings, I managed to get Kellen into the private school I work for at a discounted tuition. However, Nick did not wish to relocate to Boston, having his shop set up and gaining repute. Therefore, Kellen was sent to live with me, blowing off the few remaining weeks of school. Though awkward at first, we quickly began to take to each other, both laid back and somewhat Devil-May-Care. It's still shocking to me that though our lives growing up were so disseparate - his in a nice suburban neighborhood with seemingly doting parents, though he claims that he was always ignored in favor of Keiran-the-Overachiever; mine in inner city Boston and later Colorado, raising myself, certainly being ignored by any parental figures - that we have turned out so similar. Kellen is, nearly, an exact copy of myself at his age in appearance. He's already an inch taller than I'll ever be, and somewhat stockier, with blue-green eyes instead of blue, but the differences stop there. We've the same pale skin, incredibly similar facial structures, the same long, thin fingers, the same gracefully thin necks, the same piercing gaze, the same messy dark hair. Our tastes, too, are similar, in everything from music to our senses of humor. Kellen was fourteen when he moved into my apartment.
It was in the summer prior to his sophomore year that things took a completely unforeseen turn. Kellen, I knew, felt closer to me than he had ever to any of the rest of his family. It was not only our similarities, but that I treated him as his own person, and accepted him not in spite of his flaws, but because of them. Nick never said as much, but I'm certain he's jealous of the bond I'd formed with his younger son, though I could never claim to be a father figure to him. Though we're close, Kellen has never been open about his emotions, reminding me starkly of Maddox in that respect. Also like Maddox, he never was on the losing end of the fights he picked, never hesitated to pick them, and is known for his brutal honesty and scorching, snide sarcasm. Therefore, I was shocked when one night shortly before term started that he came to me in the middle of the night. He had done this before, usually only to request a cigarette or else Xanax to help him sleep. But this time, he simply hovered in the doorway, sillhouetted by the light from the hall.
I was at least a quarter asleep, but small noises in my direct vicinity have always had the ability to wake me up in a snap since my ma's death. I sat up, peering at him curiously as he stood still in the door, finally querying of him. "What do ya need, kid?"
Kellen didn't answer immediately. He swayed side to side, seeming more sensual than nervous, but he rarely displayed uncertain actions such as these. Finally he responded in a flat voice that was becoming more like my own all the time. "Can't sleep."
"C'mere then," I offered. Kellen has never been the I-had-a-nightmare I-need-a-glass-of-water Can-I-sleep-in-here-tonight type, but I carelessly accepted this change of events, scooting over on the large matress on the floor to make room for him, though both of us scarcely take up enough room to fill even half of the space. Kellen loped over with his usual lazy, cocky swagger absent, collapsing onto the bed in his striped blue boxers and worming his way closer to me. I lifted a hand to turn on the lamp near my bed, but the second the room was illuminated, Kellen squinted and spoke again.
"Keep it off." It wasn't a request, it was a command. Kellen's very used to people obeying him when he uses that tone, and although I typically blow it off, this time I did obey. I lit a cigarette and passed it to him before lighting my own, replacing the green glass ashtray on my bare stomach for easy access.
"So what's up?," I inquired after a long stretch of silence, getting another long stretch of silence in return. Then Kellen broke it, his voice unlike himself, quiet and hesitant but still blunt as ever.
"Think I'm gay," he responded, punctuating the statement with a long draw from his cigarette.
Not knowing what response he expected from me, I tried for humor. "Yeh? Me, too." I had known this since I was 10, if not earlier, and Kellen was well aware of it, too, so this wasn't news. He didn't laugh like I'd hoped he would, only trying to blow smoke rings through the dim yellow streetlights sneaking through my blinds, towards the ceiling. I expected him to perhaps ask the usual questions young boys will when doubting their sexuality, but he didn't. He became verbose all of a sudden, though his voice remained that low timbre, almost a whisper, very intimate.
"I made out with a couple guys before, at parties," he began. No pause this time as he continued. "I like it. I like it better. They don' got all that waxy flavored shit on their lips, they taste like whatever they've been doin. Beer or cigarettes or food or whatever. An' they feel better, too, all lean and hard instead of curvy and squishy. And it's like, a fight, to decide who's in control. With chicks, y'know, I always know that I'm in control. They're jus gunna sit there with their mouths open while I kiss em, or lay on their backs while I fuck em, they let me make the plans and decide what we're doing and they let me make the first move, all the time. But with dudes...it's like anything goes."
Waiting a moment to be sure his monologue was finished, I nodded to indicate that I understood - though I had no comparison, since I'd never been with a woman at all. "I can see how that'd be...more enjoyable, fer someone like you." Kellen liked a fight, he liked conflict, he liked earning his dominance instead of having it handed to him.
"I gave this guy head, last night," he stated blankly again. "Well, I mean, he gave me head too, like at the same time? Sixty-nine er whatever. I thought it'd be gross but it really wasn't that bad, 'cept the taste. But what he did...it felt lots better than when girls do it."
"Why's that?," I asked, again not having any idea what a girl may do when giving head that would be different from a boy. A mouth is a mouth, after all.
Kellen fidgetted, an unprecedented event, twisting his fingers in the bright pink sheets he lay on. Cigarette dangling from his small mouth, he went on. "Jus, I guess, cuz he knew what he was doin, y'know? He knew what would feel really good and what wouldn' matter. And he wasn't scared, either, like chicks get scared sometimes. They don' wanna touch your balls cuz they think it's gross, and they don't wanna try to go all the way down cuz they're afraid of choking and making that noise and seeming unattractive, and they jus'...aren't enthusiastic."
"Enthusiasm is important," I agreed, for I was quite knowledgable on the subject of sucking dick. It was Scrap who'd given me the nickname 'Leech,' and it was, according to anyone else I'd sucked off, quite accurate.
Kellen nodded his agreement into the dark, too, and fell silent for a little while longer. Eventually, he reached over to grind his cigarette out on the ashtray on my stomach, before turning to face me. "But I can't have sex with a dude."
Putting my cigarette out as well, and replacing the ashtray on the side table, I glanced out of the corner of my eyes at my half-brother. "How come?"
"Well, I wanna...I wanna get fucked. I mean, I don' wanna be on top, I wanna know what it feels like from the other end," he explained, and if it were light enough, I was convinced I would be able to see a blush on his cheeks. His voice was lower than ever. "But, y'know, I can't jus...give up control like that. I don't trust people enough for it. And I...um...doesn't it hurt?"
So there, finally, was one of the naive questions I'd expected. Stretching my legs out, I too turned to the side to face Kellen, giving a half-shrug, half-nod. "The first time it will, guaranteed. Unless it's some guy with a tiny dick. But there are ways to make it easier."
"Like what?," Kellen pounced on my words, sounding more like his eager, curious and demanding self. I nearly laughed.
"First off, there's lube," I said, though he probably knew this already. "Pretty much if ya don' use it, any time you get fucked will hurt like a bitch. But jus' a little of it, makes a world of difference." Kellen nodded to say he was following, those blue-green eyes, colorless in the near dark, locked on mine intently like one of my more apt pupils. "And then...well, stretching. You gotta get those muscles used to the intrusion before you just go shoving something that big in there."
"'Stretching,'" he repeated. "What does that mean? Like, dildos or somethin?"
Another shrug, and I replied. "That's a big first step. I'd go with using fingers first. Jus one, then two, scissor em to kinda stretch stuff out, then three..."
Kellen interrupted me. "You mean someone's gotta put their fingers up my ass?"
Out of the mouths of babes. I did laugh, this time. "Yeh. That's why it's a good idea to keep that shit clean. Enemas or whatever, even jus fingering yourself when you're showering."
At that moment, I reflected that it was probably an odd discussion to be having with one's younger brother. But at times, I still had trouble processing the fact that Kellen was my brother, or that I had a family at all. It was a first for me, not technically, but essentially. I may have wondered about my father when I was younger, but siblings were something I had never considered. Kellen was glowering at my laugh, and I figured he'd probably hit me, but he didn't.
"So can you...do that yerself? Does it feel good?"
"Yeh, you can do it yourself. 's a little awkward, but..." I paused, snagging his hand from where it rested on the blankets. Uncurling his long fingers, I pressed my own palm flat against his to gauge the difference in length. There was virtually none. "With yer fingers I don' think you'd have any problem findin' what yer aiming for."
"Prostate," he stated knowledgably, and I nodded once more, before he went on. "But how do I find that?"
"I could draw ya a diagram, but it's easier just to sorta...poke around. You'll know when ya find it."
"How will I know?," Kellen demanded, letting his fingers wind their way between mine, our joined hands falling to the sheets once more. I was used to these sorts of random expressions of affection by then.
I gave the boy a crooked half-grin, not even realizing at the time that it was the same sly, coy expression I gave some of my students before bending them over my desk for some extra credit work. "Oh, trust me. You'll know."
There was a beat. Kellen glanced at our linked hands. Then up at my face. His eyes resembled mine more than ever before, for they had the same wide, innocent, and beseeching expression I've never been able to rid myself of. His small pink tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, before he spoke once again in that low voice, though it was not so much nervous like before, but something else. Something deep, something emotional, something very weighted. "I do trust you."
I opened my mouth to respond. Snapped it shut. 'But, y'know, I can't jus...give up control like that. I don't trust people enough for it.' Oh. Oh my. As I, dumbfounded, tried to put another meaning to the four heavy words, Kellen released my hand. He wended closer, he slipped that hand over my bare hip instead, coming to rest just above my tailbone. His thumb lightly caressed the small of my back, tiny circles, his eyes still locked on mine and showing more than either of us usually did. Finally, he tilted his head to the side, one strand of overgrown black hair falling from his forehead to obscure one of those bright cyanide eyes as he questioned, quiet and weighted as before. "Can I?"
All I had to do was nod. One simple movement of my head, and this gorgeous, lithe little creature - my brother - would be kissing me. A tiny twich of the head and his mouth would be on mine and I could be discovering even more ways we were similar, the taste of his mouth compared to mine, the set of his teeth.
I inhaled deeply. I nodded.
Kellen has never known the meaning of the word 'hesitate.' Before I was even done with the movement, his mouth was on mine, already open. And then his tongue was there, prying mine open as well, delving into it near desperately. The muscle scanned over the roof of my mouth, the ridges of my teeth, then tangled itself with mine. I finally had sense to respond, sliding my tongue from under his and trying to ease the pressure, the intensity of the kiss, but Kellen wouldn't allow for it. Next time I'd instruct him in the art and joy of subtlety.
Probably I shouldn't be considering 'next time.'
He forged on more forcefully than ever, enough that I found myself on my back with his near identical form looming over mine. His hand on my hip, curled until his nails dug in, his left leg pressing between both of mine and I had an epiphany. He'd been planning this, wanting it for a while. He had wanted me for a while. How long? Since we'd met? Since he moved in? Were those boys, the ones he made out with, gave head to, replacements? Or was everyone Kellen seduced treated to this overwhelmingly mind-fucking affection? I couldn't think for feeling.
As Kellen tilted his head to the side, repositioning the angle of the kiss, I became of aware how perfectly our mouths fit against each other. The same thin lips, narrow jaws, practically the same mobile tongue. And I imagined that mouth on me, imagined being capable of feeling what everyone I'd ever given head to felt, because Kellen was surely capable of all my tricks just as well as I did them. I imagined other ways we might fit perfectly together, imagined being plastered against his narrow back with sweat, our hips precisely aligned at the same width, I imagined our hands locked together against the bed, as they'd been moments earlier, and imagined him calling my name, screaming it until he was hoarse. I must have made a noise, at this thought, for Kellen echoed it with a low, rolling moan, suddenly rubbing himself against my thigh harshly so I could feel just how much he did want this.
As if brought back to reality by a slap to the head, I wrenched mine to the side, breaking contact with the younger mouth. I was near panting, but so was Kellen. His forehead pressed against my neck, wild hair tickling my jawline, and I had no choice but to twine a large chunk of it between my fingers, holding the boy there, holding my brother as close as possible. Rolling my head back farther on the pillow, I squeezed my eyes closed, taking great gulps of air and pleading to a God I never believed in for strength. Any strength I may have had broke when Kellen's voice, somehow childish and naive, brushed over my collarbone.
"Show me?"
No command this time, a plea. I knew what he meant. I swallowed hard, twisted his hair harder between my fingers and grasped at his back with my free hand. I didn't ever want him away, not again, but I knew I should never have let him this close.
"Nick...would kill me," I stated, a weak defense.
Kellen's head lifted. His lips curved into a grin, a crooked half-grin, sly and coy and coquettish as all hell. He licked my cheek, then whispered breathlessly against my ear. "Nick doesn' gotta know, Leech."