Playing to the Crowd

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and at least 18 years of age when engaged in sexual acts.

I.

I hit the post button on the newest listing I was putting out in search of a room mate--it being the latest addition to the slew of ads I had been dropping over Facebook, Instagram, Reddit, and a bunch of other websites. The bright computer screen lit up my face and the back of the small room shrouded in darkness during the late hours of the night.

I looked across to the empty bed frame positioned against the wall to my right side where Jamison used to sleep. He was my old room mate and a good friend from college, and I had met him when I was still following the pre-law track in college. Granted I had made the move to study music performance--much to the chagrin of my once hopeful parents--we remained close and met up again after college to rent an apartment in the heart of the city.

Jamison had originally found an internship in the city while I had been recruited to its orchestra and later found other work teaching in a local music school for children. He was on his last year of law school and though the internship had long ended, he was willing to stay and planned to eventually join a law firm here after his admission to the bar. I knew his family wasn't particularly rich, as with mine, but I was still surprised when, out of the blue, Jamison told me a few days prior that he was going to move back home and commute for the remainder of his semester.

His demeanor during his last days in the apartment was cold and he appeared rather unsettled every time we interacted as he packed his stuff. He regarded me with a strange look of fear and disgust in his eyes. I swear I hadn't done anything to offend him, yet our relationship had soured and he quickly grew distant from me after leaving, hardly responding to my texts and no longer asking to hang out. Despite my disheartenment and confusion, I didn't have the time to sulk as the issue of rent was a pressing matter.

Rent was due in five days at the end of the month. My jobs as a musician and teacher barely paid enough for me to support myself and pay my share of the hefty rent which came with any apartment in the midtown area. Without Jamison to pay his share and seemingly no one offering to replace him, I was going to have to go home or find housing elsewhere outside the city. Either way, the commute would certainly put a wrench into my current work schedule. And most of all, this would be another failure of mine in the eyes of my parents. While I disregarded their plans for me to become a lawyer like my father, I had always loved them and wished to make them as proud as I could while not giving up on my own aspirations.

A lot of pressure had fallen on me throughout the years to make money, become a proper man, and so on because my younger brother--Charlie--continually failed to meet our parent's minimum requirements of being a 'good student' and 'upstanding person.' He was gloomy and rebellious, among other traits that pushed him away from Mom, Dad, and everyone else. Charlie, however, was always oddly close and attached me back then--or at least until the incident that occurred two years ago.

My phone rang abruptly and I picked it up to see an incoming video call from my mother. This late at night? I knew there had to be some emergency and raced to accept the call.

The call opened to her sitting on the living room couch in front of old family photos of Charlie and I playing together from when we were kids. The picture frames were made of mahogany and littered in thin layers of dust. Dad was always working and Mom seemed to spend increasingly large amounts of time on worrying about Charlie's future and controlling his behavior or day drinking with her friends. Her eye bags were dark and heavy and her crows feet were pronounced. Most noticeably, her eyes themselves were strained and reddened.

"Mom! What's wrong? What happened?" I asked immediately.

Taking a moment to gather herself and wipe the tears from cheeks, she said, "Oh, it's just awful, Mark! Your brother... Charlie, Charlie--he--"

Failing to finish her sentence, she buried her face in her hands and broke into tears. I felt the blood drain from my face hearing her mention Charlie's name like that. I gripped the phone so hard it nearly cracked, saying in a raised voice, "What happened to him? Oh god, what happened to Charlie? Oh geez, you--you have to tell me right now! Is he hurt?"

"No, no, no. Not that. He's safe... physically. But your brother got into a big fight with your father and I earlier today and he stormed out of the house with his belongings just a while ago."

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. What happened between them this time? Did they all finally reach their breaking points with each other and Charlie decided to run away?

"What was the problem? You know, college isn't meant for everyone, anyways. Have you tried encouraging him to look for a job?" I reasoned.

"Charlie... he... oh, lord how do I put this, hun... we... we caught your brother making pornography of himself."

Gone was the nervousness and tense anticipation, which was replaced with an unsavory feeling that left a bottomless pit in my stomach. Sure, this was a crazy move even for Charlie's standards, but I had an inkling that this was only the initial stage of some greater plot of his. Charlie struggled in school and all the dumb extracurricular activities Mom subjected us to, but he wasn't stupid, not in the least. He was simply forever distracted and preoccupied with other things--things our parents didn't know and things I wish I didn't have a single clue about.

"Mark...?" Mom asked, puzzled by my silence and frozen figure.

"Yea. I'm here," I said, though mentally I wasn't and I stared blankly at the picture I had of him on my desk.

The photo was his senior year portrait. Charlie's hair was long, black, and perfectly straight. It was silky and had a glossy sheen to it, drawing the attention of whoever looked slightly in his direction. He wore a cute cardigan over his school uniform and left the sweater unbuttoned so you could see the maroon tie and his beautifully long and slender neck. Charlie was a natural, bona-fide femboy. His eyes were a dark, hazel brown and he observed the camera with a piercing gaze. Anyone else would have told you that his look was one of contempt and disregard. Only I knew the feelings of love and desire that brewed beneath the stormy surface.

"What do you mean by making porn of himself?" I inquired, not breaking eye contact with Charlie's portrait.

"Well... oh goodness, don't make me say it. I came home early today and opened his room, finding him on the floor naked with a camera pointed at himself," she replied, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation.

"Was there someone with him?" I asked swiftly, perhaps a little too quickly.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me, before deciding against whatever she was considering and telling me, "No. He was alone. But, you know, still... for the camera. Obviously your father and I were furious and made him promise to never do it again. We forbade him for doing it. I mean, what else could we possibly do? We tried to open our minds for him. We accepted him when he said he was gay and when he wanted to wear women's clothing. We even tried to be understanding when...," she rambled, stopping dead in her tracks as she neared the subject of Charlie's incident.

We stared at each other briefly through the phone screen, both of us deciding it was best to not bring up the matter.

"Bottom line, we've tried our very best as parents to be receptive to changes we'd otherwise consider immoral. Don't you think so, hun? But seriously, filming pornography has got to be where we draw the line and put our foot down for good."

What she said was true. But regardless, they were pretty restricting when it came to Charlie's life. They dictated his activities, stopped him from approaching other men they thought Charlie would find even remotely attractive, and most of all, they prevented him from seeing me. I haven't met my brother in person for nearly two years. Gosh, was he 20 already?

"Do you have any idea where he'd go? Did you call the police yet?"

"No, we didn't call them," she responded, "since we know exactly where he's headed. The share your location thing we made him use on his phone tells us he's taking a car towards the city. So, in all likelihood, to your apartment."

How the heck did he know where I lived?

"I thought you made me promise to never tell him my address. What's with the sudden change up?" I pressed, slightly annoyed with her hypocrisy.

"We never told him. I have no clue as to how he found out. But that's besides the point. Listen, I'm really concerned about his mental state as of late. I've discussed the issue with your father and we've agreed that in spite of your pasts with each other, that we're going to let Charlie stay with you for a short while and leave him be. You're a good man, Mark, and we really need you to be a good, supportive brother and role model right now for Charlie when he needs you most. He might not show it, but he still misses you."

"I miss him too," I mumbled, picking up the photo and caressing my thumb along the glass that covered his face.

She always believed separation would be better for the both of us in the long run. But all the suffering and heartache we put ourselves through these past two years, was it really worth it? Charlie clearly wasn't going to change anytime soon. Maybe this development would do good for us. Charlie would find some freedom living with me and hopefully begin to reform himself under my guidance.

Preparing myself to bring up the topic of my rent problem, I decided against it last minute seeing the extent of my mother's current worry and panic.

"We're really sorry about how unsatisfied we were when you chose a career in music. It was so... frivolous in hindsight. I'm just so happy that you've become the man you are now: a righteous man," she said, laughing quietly to herself in self pity and dabbing her eyes once more with a tissue.

"Set him straight. Heal our son, Mark."

II.

I was standing in the foyer of our house next to my mother. We were in front of the staircase leading upstairs and opposite to the main entrance, where a man stood with his leather shoes on the doormat. He took his glasses off with a shaky hand and looked at Mom with a peculiar mix of expectancy and resignation that only made sense given his old age. Mom checked the thin, silver watch on her arm and tapped her foot impatiently. She gave the man a sad smile, avoiding eye contact and staring a hole into the partly polished wooden floor.

"Charles David Baker! Get your fanny downstairs and greet your teacher before I come up there and drag you down here myself!," she yelled upwards.

She was really, really mad at him. I could see the steam coming off her head that was seething in rage. You were already in deep trouble when she called you by your full name, but Charlie was practically swimming in it if she chose to use the name he would kick other kids' nut sacks for using. No response came, only the muted crash of a slammed door from inside of Charlie's room, meaning that he'd holed himself up in his closet.

Not only was Charlie disrespecting her and the teacher, he was tarnishing the family's reputation for excellence she and my father had been carefully crafting for decades alongside my other relatives. Charlie was an anomaly--a stain, and he had to be made right. The tension in the room was palpable and it made the air so thick I felt myself choking up on it until I realized that I was reliving an old memory. I heard myself breathe and sensed I was planning an intervention.

Mom began stomping towards the stairway, loosening her arms in preparation for a beating she hadn't unleashed on her children in a long while, given that Charlie was 13 at the time and I was already 16. I reached out and gently clasped my left hand around her wrist just before she made contact with the first step. I brought her away from the teacher into the kitchen, feeling my old self's mouth open for earnest plea, "Mom, why don't you let me teach him instead?"

She rubbed her temples in frustration, sighing and saying, "I appreciate your concern for your brother, but he needs to learn to accept and face life's responsibilities. He can't just hide from everything he's scared of or upset by."

"I know, but...," I began, and I could tell I was scrambling to bring forth what wisdom I had accumulated, "He's a kid. And every kid's different. Even though I listened to you, not every child can be molded exactly into what their parents want from them. If you push him too hard, he might not ever come out again. Not to you at least."

Mom glanced anxiously back at the teacher, realizing that she'd have to probably send him away soon and still pay for the unfulfilled lesson.

"He'll actually pay attention and learn more if he's with me. He doesn't feel safe with strangers but he will if I'm the one guiding him."

She obviously didn't like the fact that I was the only one ever actually bonding with Charlie, but a lesson was a lesson, right? You could say I was a near prodigy at the piano and French horn, so tutoring my younger brother in his beginner piano lessons would be a breeze. It made sense why I would later become a teacher, as nothing brought me happiness quite like helping others learn and grow at something I was passionate about.

"Fine, I'll tell the teacher to leave. That said, you'd better actually get him downstairs otherwise you're in deep trouble too mister."

I nodded solemnly like a knight accepting his calling, though I was also rather jittery with excitement after successfully convincing my usually stubborn mother and from my eagerness to have some fun with Charlie. I climbed the stairs as fast as I could and opened the door to his bedroom. Stepping inside, I was hit with a floral, musky scent, which I attributed to the perfume and shampoo he shared with Mom, as well as the trash bin stuffed to the brim with crinkly, used tissues. Well, he certainly was at that age.

Charlie had a shelf decorated with stuffed animals and figurines and another filled with all the fantasy, sci-fi novels he loved to read. Walking towards his closet, I noticed a Eevee plushie on the ground and placed it back on its designated position amongst the rank and file. I patted its head and went to lean against the doorframe of his closet, knocking on it softly.

"It's me. Can we talk?"

I heard him shuffled around behind the door before twisting on the doorknob and revealing himself. Charlie's hair was in a basic ponytail and he wore a matching set of purple sweatpants and a hoodie. Seeing me waiting outside, his morose face lit up and he jumped out beside me.

"Marky!," he cooed, asking, "is that creepy, weird, old man gone yet?"

"Don't forget wrinkly," I quipped, making him giggle, "he's probably on his way out now."

"Thanks for saving me from that."

"Nuh uh. The lesson's still on. It's just under new management, per se. I promised Mom I would teach you if she'd let you drop the session with him."

"But I didn't practice all week...," he whined.

"Come on! Come with me downstairs and play. You just gotta jump right into it--the learning's in the action."

I brought him with me into the piano room and sat him down on the stool. Fumbling through the stack of sheet music on the nearby small table, I said, "Ok. So which one of these were ya using last time? And bring me to the exact piece you were working on."

Charlie extracted one of my old beginner level piano books and flipped to the page of Beethoven's Sonatina in G Major.

"Ah. Classic," I sighed.

"I don't like it. It's boring," he mumbled.

"Hmm. Think of it this way. How is he doing so much with so little material and such simple difficulty? And sure it's a short piano sonata, but consider the right hand's melody as if it were a lyrical phrase--as if someone were singing it. Here, why don't you play the first page for me? Don't worry about getting it perfect or at proper tempo. Take it slowly, but really focus on the lyricism of the top line."

Charlie glanced at me timidly and I gestured at him to begin playing. While he stumbled his way through it a tad, the notes were almost all correct and I could tell he was really trying to bring forth the right hand part's lyrical quality.

"Good. Good start. You definitely did practice even just a little bit this week. Firstly, I want you to always sit upright and have your arms and fingers positioned correctly over the keys," I advised, placing my hands on his chest and back to set him straight in the stool.

He squirmed slightly at my contact and started breathing faster. I could see why the old teacher would be a problem for him. Or was it because it was me? I was taken aback and disturbed and did my best to ignore it as I began playing the passage myself on the lower octaves of the piano, showing how your shoulders should be relaxed, elbow at the correct height, and fingers sufficiently arched and not flat over the keys.

"Do you see what I mean? Show me how you should position yourself."

"Like this?"

"Yeah, getting there. And secondly, I like your effort to enhance the lyricism of the melody. But what other clues are there in the sheet music to help guide us in bringing it out?"

"I dunno..."

"What's this," I offered, pointing to the long line arched above the beams of the right hand's notes, "it's a slur, right?"

"Oh! Yea, I think I remember that."

"Great. The slurs tell you what notes to connect smoothly together. You can even imagine that the end of a phrase where the slur stops is where a singer would take their chance to breathe."

Taking out my phone, I began recording, saying, "From the top again."

"Whaat? Nooo...," he bemoaned, angling his face away from the camera and hesitating to play.

"Just try it. I'm recording cause I want you to see yourself play. Self-evaluation is important for improvement. Plus, you know, I want to save this memory of you."

Charlie shook his head rapidly, though he slid his hands above the keys once more after I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He was extremely nerve-racked, slipping up and stumbling in areas he usually played without a problem. I stopped recording after a while as I was content with the footage and his execution of the first melodic phrase.

"You can relax, Char. You did good."

"Can you delete it? It was bad."

"It's gold, and I want you to know that I'm proud of you, alright? In my opinion, perfection in performance is second to expression--self expression. Because there's always gonna be someone who can play it better than you, faster or smoother than you. But no one can take the you out of your performance. It's a right, a gift, and an ideal, don't you think? We make music to show ourselves and to say the things we otherwise couldn't say."

"Yea... but nothing short of perfection would make them happy. How could I ever match you or their expectations? I suck at everything they throw at me and I don't want any of it," Charlie admitted, opening up to me about the feelings he'd kept bottled up all this time away from everybody else.

"I... can only ask that you try your best to ignore them. Try to understand that they push you out of tough love. I'll always love you, though, no matter what. And you can quote me on that."

He didn't say anything and got up from his chair, loosening his balled up fists. His eyes darted between me and my phone, which rested on the piano lid and its screen showing the saved recording in my camera roll.

"Mm--mmm. They don't. They probably hate me for my uselessness, and they would really hate me if they knew my true self."

True self? What dark secrets did he kept hidden about himself? It couldn't be his sexuality, as it was obvious to my parents and I from the start that he was gay. They didn't have too much of a problem with it after some time, anyhow. What was his true self? I was wrenched from my trance by the warmth of his small arms wrapped around my waist. He snuggled his head against my chest, closing his eyes in satisfaction. I could feel his heart pounding.

I was mortified and pulled myself away from him in shock. I didn't know if he was doing it absentmindedly, or if he was confused and had some innocent crush on me. He was my younger brother and I was profoundly disgusted with myself for allowing him to get this way with me. I needed to draw the line somewhere, but wouldn't I just be like Mom and Dad?

Charlie glowered at me, his head tilted down somewhat and eyes turned a little upwards at me. Looking back on it now from the present, it was around then when his obsession had started innocently enough and began morphing into stranger, worrisome behavior.

III.

Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang! The doorbell rung and whoever was outside my apartment door resumed their impatient knocking in short bursts. I came to my senses and saw the faint light coming from my dimmed computer screen. The moon was setting and I could detect the slightest tinge of blue blending into the black sky from in between the window blinds. There was also the soft pitter patter of descending raindrops hitting against the glass panes.

Climbing out of bed and haphazardly throwing on a pair of gym shorts, I saw the screen was still opened to the last ad I had posted. The time showed it was 4:16 in the morning and I noticed a number 1 attached to the icon of my listing. Someone had replied to my post.

Bang bang bang! Bang bang bang bang! That couldn't be Charlie, right? Not at this hour. Surely he was staying at a motel or something since our house was a two, three hour drive or so from the city. He should have arrived earlier if he came straight from home. Whoever was outside could wait. I clicked on the comments section and saw the comment.

It was a single word. "Taken." Replied to the listing by a 'MidnightUmbreon66.' Who did they think they were, trying to ruin my post? I was prepared to delete the comment, though at that exact instant, I received a text from an unknown number that just said: "Let me in. I know you're inside, Mark."

A chill shot up my spine and a million thoughts of different creepy, internet stalkers ran through my mind. Did they use the ads I posted to track me down so they could hurt or blackmail me? I snatched a knife from the kitchen in case as I crept my way to the front door. I leaned my face in to look into the door's peephole, seeing Charlie standing out there and repeatedly jamming his thumb into the doorbell button.

His makeup was kinda crazy, consisting of a cat eye look, smoky eye shadow, and a dark gray lipstick--the eye shadow smudged a tad by what I assumed to be the rain. He wore a black leather jacket, black leggings, and black Chelsea boots. Dark tones were evidently his favorite and I couldn't help but ogle at his alluring form, which was perfect and irresistible even when distorted by the rounded lens of the peephole. His bubbly thighs jiggled like jello each time he shot his arm out to hit the doorbell.

Furrowing his well-drawn eyebrows as he got closer to the door and began pounding on its metal surface again, Charlie yelled, "MARK! LET ME IN! OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE IT'S CHARLIE YOU DUMB ASS!"

I threw the knife away onto the kitchen counter and unlocked the door before the neighbors made a noise complaint. I stared dumbly at him when I opened the door, unsure of what to say after all this time. It certainly didn't help that his body was making my brain go haywire. Charlie stepped inside and brought his luggage with him, raising his brows and tossing his hair back. He reached both arms behind his head and untied his high ponytail, unraveling the same shiny, black, and perfectly straight locks he had the day of his senior picture day and graduation.

"Missed me?" he said, in a low, yet undeniably feminine and sexy voice.

Charlie grabbed onto the piece of gum he was chewing with his thumb and pointer finger, stretching it out in front of his mouth. It formed a hot, wet string of white and he let go of it with his teeth, proceeding to reshape it into a ball and shoving it in between my closed lips. It tasted faintly of spearmint and most of its flavor should have been long gone, but I could have sworn it was so intensely sweet as his spit oozed from its surface and entered my mouth.

"Yea-ah," I croaked, my palate exploding with flavor and simultaneously becoming dryer than a desert, "it's... so good to see you again."

He closed the door behind himself before jabbing a finger into my chest and pushing me against the wall. The woody fragrance coming off his body was intoxicating, making my heart race and knees buckle so much that our faces reached the same level. He held my neck in place with the firm grasp of his right arm, whose press-on stiletto nails were a predictably, matching black color. I could feel their pointed tips digging into the skin of my neck. My younger brother had total control over me in that moment. And he took full advantage of this by locking his lips around mine, pushing his tongue aggressively into my mouth.

Charlie kissed and tongued me desperately as though my saliva were the sole antidote to a deadly toxin spreading in his bloodstream. We were both panting and gasping for air when he drew his lips away from mine and stared into my eyes--the intensity of his passion aiming to compensate for our lost time. It was our first real kiss. He would peck me on the cheeks during our final weeks together prior to our separation, but I would never allow us to go any further. It was wrong, and I needed to keep him at a safe distance to temper his unnatural, seemingly unyielding appetite for my attention.

"I still fucking love you," he hissed, letting go of my neck and standing back to survey the apartment.

What was he trying to do? I couldn't just let him unravel the two years work Mom and I had put towards quelling whatever we shared between us. I balanced my dizzied head with my hands, my back remaining in contact with the wall for support. Charlie slid his boots off and tossed them aside next to my dress shoes. He took in the sight of my decently sized, though untidy apartment with great interest. The sink was packed with dirtied dishes, the counter covered in empty bottles and ramen noodle cups, and dirty laundry was piled up in a heaping mound outside my bedroom door. Working two jobs didn't give me much time to take care of myself, let alone the apartment.

"It's such a goddamn mess. You been eating right? How'd you survive on your own for so long? You should be thankful I'm here now to take care of you," he said.

I grunted, acknowledging his kind words and feeling the full weight of the realization that we had kissed. A deep French kiss, no less. Slumping, my head fell and I regarded my own hands with such disdain and revulsion. What was wrong with me?

"How--how could you do that? I thought we promised Mom that we wouldn't cross the line and go beyond a normal sibling relationship..."

"Who cares what they think at this point?!," Charlie said, spitting his words out like poison, "And don't you dare go thinking that I've forgiven you yet for abandoning me."

"We have A LOT of lost time to make up for, don't you agree, Marky?" he continued, hugging me tightly and nipping on my earlobe.

I wiggled free of his embrace and retreated around the kitchen counter, letting the marble countertop give me enough space to ask him about his intentions.

"Why did you do it? Why are you here?"

"Because I love you, duh."

"No, I mean, why did you start doing porn?"

He groaned, clearly impatient with these questions he considered unnecessary. Charlie shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it onto the couch in the tiny living room adjacent to the kitchen. The plain, gray t-shirt he wore underneath had the imperial insignia from Star Wars printed at its center. His nipples were rock hard and poked out from underneath.

"I would've started later if I could. Honestly. But I had to start growing my fanbase before I could earn enough to support us and pay the rent. It's like five thousand something, yea?"

"Uh... what are you--," I began, as he cut the distance between us and eyed my body from top to bottom appreciatively.

"I'm moving in with you. It's decided. Fix your lack of a room mate problem."

Was this his plan from the beginning? Make porn and move in with me as though we were a real couple? Goodness, did he have something to do with the weird comment on my listing and Jamison cutting off all contact with me? Nothing was ever out of the question or too extreme when it came to Charlie. I knew trying to directly talk him out of making that stuff wouldn't work. My approach would have subtle and sympathetic--slowly getting closer to him and reforming the bond we once had so I could get to his heart and learn the real reasons behind this misbehavior. I retreated to my room and could hear his light footsteps trailing mine along the way.

Once we were inside, he seductively rolled down his skin-tight pants--one leg at a time and exposing the tiny yellow pair of panties he wore underneath. It hugged the fatty edges of his hips so well and there was a sizable bulge showing through the front too. Wow, I didn't expect him to be carrying a tool like that all this time. He had to be the same length as me, if not slightly longer. I cartoonishly wiggled my head to rid myself of those indecent thoughts.

Yawning, he said, "I didn't bring any sheets, so I'm sure you're ok with me joining you."

Charlie climbed under my covers, immediately making himself comfortable and bringing the blanket up to his nose. He inhaled its scent and turned onto his side to sniff my pillow next.

"I'm... gonna take the couch," I muttered, sapped completely of my energy and will to contest his advancements.

He lifted the covers and patted the spot in front of him. What I'd give to join him there--if only there were no repercussions. Not giving in to the temptation, I affirmed, "It's all yours. I want you to be comfortable and relax properly after all the stress you've been through today."

Walking past the doorframe and into the living room, I could hear him huff and barely say, "But that's what makes you so special...... Uhh! Go and jack off on your own."

***

I woke up the next morning to the sounds of the stove's exhaust fan and clattering from the pans and silverware. Trudging into the kitchen, I saw Charlie facing the stove with his panty-clad butt in full display. He shimmied his hips as he busily shaped and folded the omelet he was cooking. His legs were hairless, well-toned, and muscular, though not to a degree that made him look particularly masculine. I watched in silence while he finished the dish and turned around to slide the omelet onto a plate on the counter.

Without looking up, he said, "Enjoyed the view?"

I did, admittedly, and I could sense my shaft hardening under my gym shorts. I stepped briskly to the counter and took a seat in an effort to hide my erection, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I was putty in his hands.

"Thank you. I--... gosh, you didn't get much sleep did you? It's really nice of you to do this, but you need rest."

Wordlessly, Charlie went back to the stove and turned off the fan. He opened the lid of the blender nearby and poured out a thick, creamy shake into my mug--pushing the cup in front of me like a bartender.

"Try it. Tell me if you like it," he said, leaning over the counter and resting his head in his palms. He smiled so sweetly at me.

"Charlie...," I began slowly, knowing that I was going to have to bring up the painful topic once more, "I don't know what you've been going through, but you're back with me now--and I'm gonna be with you no matter what from here on. No more running away--I swear. So... can you please tell me whatever's been hurting you? Is it Mom and Dad?"

"Drink," he said stubbornly, with a wicked grin and eyes gleaming with mischief.

Did he think this was funny? Or was it his natural defense mechanism to brush off painful subjects with humor?

"Seriously. Did they do something to you? I'm aware their rules can be restrictive and their expectations burdensome. But I need to know if they did something to hurt you."

"Come onnnnn. One sip," he whined, lifting the mug to my lips.

I grabbed the mug's handle, my hand grazing against his soft, delicate fingers and tilted it to take a swig of his morning shake. I could taste the vanilla protein powder, banana, and milk he added. There was, however, an unusual aftertaste I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was sort of bitter and salty.

"I think it's good? What did you add?"

Charlie was biting his lip and rubbing his thighs against one another. Flashing me a smoldering, sultry look, he mumbled, "I thought of you the whole time while making it."

My eyes widened and I stared so hard at the mug that you would have thought I was going to shoot laser beams at it. The liquid was a pearly, ivory color and rather clumpy upon closer examination.

"What...?" I whispered apprehensively.

Charlie came over to me in a confident stride and hopped onto my lap--making me jump and hover my hands in the hair around his small waist. His juicy butt and meaty thighs were firmly pressed against my crotch, and I could feel the burning heat from his skin through the thin fabric of my shorts. He looped one arm possessively around my neck and used the other to bring the mug back to my pursed lips.

"Go ahead, drink it again. It's good right?"

My throat was terribly dry, and while the shake slithered down my gullet and moistened it well enough, my brain refused to let my body enjoy the suspicious beverage. Although I wanted so badly to savor the taste and his lovely sentiment, my conscience compelled me to cough in feigned disgust. Some of it dribbled out the corner of my mouth as I choked a little, though Charlie made sure to quickly wipe it away with his thumb and pop it into his mouth--licking it clean.

"I thought you said you liked it," he said, frowning.

"Look--," I said, clearing my throat, "I'll let you stay as long as you want. Can you please stop filming yourself that way though? I'll find another way to pay the rent. I can take more students or ask Mom and Dad for help."

"Are you stupid? I can't let you work yourself any harder than you already are and make us rely on them anymore. Not after we finally got our chance to live our own lives and be who we want to be."

Charlie dropped to his knees before me and started pulling on the waistband of my shorts.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey, whoa. This isn't right," I pleaded with hands out.

"Holy shit, Mark. Can't you just enjoy the blowjob and nice breakfast? So fucking uptight."

"I think I'd better go and get ready for work. You need to get some sleep," I said, backing away gradually.

I had to get out of the house if I wanted to keep my sanity and decency in tact. Charlie had been pushing me and testing my limits and he was making it incredibly difficult for me to not be like my mother. Saying no and setting a hard limit was supposed to be the final resort. I felt pretty bad for leaving him on the floor with those sad puppy eyes, but I definitely needed some space and time to mull over the current situation.

IV.

The subway turnstile clinked as I pushed through it with my legs, one of my arms lugging the French horn case and my briefcase in the other. The air was hot and stale in the station, though I soon felt the ocean breezes that funneled into the stairway leading up to the city streets. It was sunset and everything had this orange-purple glow cast upon it. I climbed the steps and began the short walk back to the apartment.

The distant sun stretched the heavy shadows cast by the many high-rise buildings surrounding the bustling walkways--the darkness offset by the cream-colored pear tree flower pedals that blew in from the city parks. I weaved my way through crowds of tourists and businessmen, but eventually there was a rumbling in my pocket, so I had to slow my pace and gather my gear in one hand. I picked up my phone and accepted the call from my mother.

"Hey Mom, what's up?"

"How's Charlie holding up? Your father tells me I should take this chance to properly relax, but I think that's absurd," she said, before lowering her tone to add, "how could I possibly be calm when your brother has been going around and indecently exposing himself online for everybody to see?"

"Right...," I muttered, waiting for the car to pass by and crossing the street--leaving behind the others, who were unsure if they should jaywalk or not.

Sighing, I admitted, "Well honestly, progress is slow with him. He's... stubborn, to say the least. But I promise that I'll watch over him and convince him to drop the business--no matter what. Ok? I need you to trust me in the process, though."

I only said those things to give her peace of mind. The process wouldn't just be slow. It was a precarious path laid ahead of me--with temptations present at every turn of the road waiting to prey on my crumbling inhibitions. Frankly, I didn't trust myself at all. What was keeping me from having sex with my own brother, for god's sake? My sense of morality, which he tested and successfully undermined every time he flaunted his cute body and teased me with his touch?

"I appreciate you, son," Mom said in a hoarse voice. I couldn't bear to listen to my own vain words for any longer or her affirmations that I clearly didn't deserve.

"I'm almost home. We'll talk soon. Love you," I said, entering the apartment complex and waving hello to the security guard. I ended the call and hit the elevator button. It was a long day of rehearsals and one-on-one lessons. I couldn't wait to kick back and order some take-out--that is if Charlie was going to leave me alone.

"Good for you, man," the guard yelled from behind.

I looked back and saw him smirking at me from the security desk, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Your lady friend came in late last night asking about your apartment. Real nice catch--real nice. Didn't know you were like that," he said, laughing heartily.

I laughed nervously and gave another short wave as I got in the elevator, whose opportune arrival thankfully got me out of a conversation I was way too exhausted to have at the moment. After the short ride, I lumbered to the apartment door, pausing with my keys pressed against the lock once I heard the muffled sounds of my piano coming from inside.

Charlie was hunched over on the piano stool, with his hands on the keys and eyes squinted at the sheet music on the piano's music rack. He hesitantly played a few disjointed notes and grunted each time he repeated the difficult section of the piece. I instantly recognized my own work, even in its scattered form. It was a draft I printed out--one of the works from a larger collection I was hoping to publish for children.

Upset with his inability, Charlie went to the stack of papers on the piano and began ruffling through my drafts for an easier one to play.

"I see you found my stuff," I called out to him.

"You wrote... all of this?" he asked, glancing up at me.

I nodded. I supposed I was fairly excited about his interest in my work. Most people had nothing insightful to say about it, while my colleagues considered such straightforward, easy-listening music to be nothing more than a concession to the popularized tastes and a quick cash-grab. He scooted to the side of the stool, leaving room to sit down beside him--our thighs pressed against one another. And I did so without thinking, my mind focused solely on the piece he chose for us to work on.

"I haven't touched one since you left," Charlie said, his hot breath tingling my ear as he made me realize the dangerous situation I had put myself in. His navel was showing through the hight-cut, maroon halter top he was wearing with his gray yoga pants. His belly button was squished in his sitting position and it had the smallest amount of pudge to it--the kind you couldn't draw your eyes away from.

"Show me how'd you play this part right here," he said breathily.

Playing through the section effortlessly, I marked down the correct fingerings above each note using a pencil. I had to erase the penciled numbers a few times and rewrite them due to the shakiness of my arm--a consequence of his sensual caressing of my shoulder with his feathery touch. It was absolute torture to actually play the short segment while he continued this and lovingly squeezed my bicep with his other hand.

"Do you think you got it? All you now," I rasped, shifting over on the seat so that even though half of my butt was off the stool, I had given myself a reprieve from his blatant attempts at seducing me.

He tried the first half of the piece a number of times, gradually directing his attention towards getting the notes and rhythms perfect. What was missing from his playing, however, was expression and musicality.

"Good job," I praised him, patting his head and instantly regretting it. Charlie whimpered as I ruffled his silky hair and he grabbed my wrist, nestling his cheek against my palm.

"Hey!," I squeaked, flinching as if I had touched hot fire, "Concentrate! What else in the sheet music do you need to pay attention to?"

"I'm playing it legato."

"Yea, yea, besides the slurs? Anything else?"

"Umm... I dunno... oooh, wait, the dynamics!," he exclaimed cheerfully, satisfied with his simple observation.

"Mmmhmm, and what are these?" I asked, pointing to the pair of elongated hairpins below one particular phrase.

Charlie had nonchalantly placed his hand onto my thigh, groping it and snaking his way closer and closer to my groin. I saw that he was hard too. It didn't help that I was already incredibly hungry. My mouth was watering at the sight of his huge boner, growing and pulsing like a fierce python beneath the stretchy material of his pants. Oh heck, what had gotten into me? I plucked his hand away and tapped the sheet music with the back of my hand.

"I mean--fuck. I forgot their names, but-but it tells you to get louder and then softer."

"Exactly. It's a crescendo and diminuendo. Or you can just refer to them as hairpins. Did you know that especially in Romantic period works, hairpins could mean more than simply increasing and decreasing volume depending on the composer? For some they applied to the tempo as well--kind of like a rubato of sorts, speeding up and slowing down--and for others it could act like an accent you ease into."

"You're still such a nerd," he teased, giggling.

"Welp--that I am..."

"Play the whole thing for me? I wanna appreciate it but you know I can't get it right."

I guess that was true. I was glad he cared. The complications in our relationship and our time apart had made me forget my closest friend. Waiting for Charlie to get up, I cracked my knuckles and began the mini performance that I would dedicate to him.

I started smoothly enough, though Charlie very quickly made his move and massaged my shoulders, which were stiff from neglect and the day's work. I moaned and paused longer than I should have in the middle of the first half. He continued to knead the knots in my overworked muscles and leaned in to kiss me tenderly on the neck--licking and sucking in my skin to bite it, leaving hickeys I would surely have to worry about hiding tomorrow.

As I persevered and progressed towards the climax of the work, Charlie had unexpectedly restrained himself and listened keenly to the rumbling, lower registers of the piano that gave way to the simple, yet dramatic arpeggiated transition leading to a final repetition of the main theme. The high pitched melody rung brightly and wonderfully into the silent space of the apartment like the church bells of a small town's chapel in the early hours of the morning. Finishing and letting the last chord die out with my foot remaining on the sustain pedal, I turned around and noticed Charlie's dreamy gaze.

"It's beautiful. I didn't do it justice...," he whispered, pecking my grizzled cheek, adding, "Serenading the shit out of me. Want me that bad, huh?"

Ignoring the latter half of his comment, I confessed, "You're not alone. I'm sure I disappoint them too. Performing, teaching, writing... none of this makes any actual money. Everyone I know has to survive on multiple jobs. It's really bad..."

"Hey! Hey...," he soothed, cupping my cheek, "You supported me all the way back then. Plus, I have plenty enough money now for us to live on."

I immediately felt awful about leaving him two years ago. I had stuck with him during the toughest times throughout his childhood as his dependable, loving older brother, but couldn't stick it through with him once we hit a major road bump after becoming adults?

"Your music. Its beauty is worth everything. What was it that you said? That music shows our real selves and says things we otherwise couldn't say?"

I watched the cloudy night sky which laid beyond my balcony, where a pair of pigeons stopped to peck at the concrete ground. The cooed and flapped their wings merrily before flying off into the horizon of glass and steel silhouettes. Were we like those birds--two people bearing the brunt of the world without anyone else to rely on except the other?

"Anyone special in mind when you wrote it?" Charlie probed.

"No. There hasn't been anyone special...," I said dejectedly.

"I know. You haven't been dating. You haven't even told them you prefer cute guys, huh?"

How did he know all this? The worst part was that it was all accurate. I slumped my shoulders in defeat.

"Fuck what they think. I'm here for you too. Shit, you'll always look good to them when compared to me."

Charlie was turning the situation against me. Darn it, I was supposed to be the one helping and encouraging him, not the other way around. With the subject of his porn on the tip of my tongue, I bit it back, seeing his genuine smile and affection towards me. Why was he really doing it? Was it just for the money, or was it because he had no other career prospects? Was it to rebel against Mom and Dad or was it to get my attention?

I heard a soft, wet clapping sound and jumped when I saw the video Charlie was playing with his phone held out for me to see. It showed a femboy's lower half riding a translucent dildo. They had on a pair of white suspender stockings and nothing else. Their nylon-clad feet were sexily arched on the ground as they were riding the silicon shaft in earnest and spreading their bubbly, hairless cheeks apart for the camera. Their long, semi-hard member dangled and flopped while they slammed their hips down. A thick strand of precum drooled obscenely from their red-hot tip that was exposed with their foreskin pulled back. Their anus was frothy with lube and their juices ran down the veiny length of the lucky toy.

"I thought I'd show you a sample of my work since we were exchanging our art. You like?" he said softly, rubbing the tent in my pants as I openly gawked at the video.

"Hot...," I gulped, suddenly realizing my moment of weakness and dashing to hide behind the kitchen counter once more.

"Aw, fuck!," he exclaimed, facepalming, "You must be starving! I got too caught up in that. I already made us salads and a casserole--it's literally sitting in the oven."

Charlie rushed to take it out of the oven and plated our food on the small dinner table. It smelled delicious. He must have learned the recipe helping Mom cook at home. Then he retrieved a bottle of wine from the cabinet and went to pour us two cups--glancing to check if I was watching. When did he buy that?

"Why don't you go wash your hands? I'm almost done," he urged me. I complied.

V.

Dinner was pleasant and oddly romantic. We sat across from each other and discussed our lives, Charlie telling me the ins and outs of his profitable 'business' while I brought up my upcoming events and favorite students. He begged me to get him tickets to our next concert, wanting to see me play with the orchestra on stage. I told him it shouldn't be much of a hassle and that I would love for him to come backstage after to meet my colleagues. I wasn't sure how I would introduce him, though--brother or boyfriend, and only because I knew he would get up to his usual antics and try to act all possessive of me.

Charlie also offered to help me get my first piano book published. He had gathered experience in graphic design and promoting things during his time as an 'adult content creator' and was confident he could make a good cover and contact potential publishers. I was honestly surprised at how engaged and chaste he was during the whole meal, never straying to tease or touch me. It felt like an authentic first date.

The one detail which bothered me was the smug look that would escape from his composed face between conversations. What was he up to?

I was temperate in my drinking and didn't go beyond the one cup given that I had another full schedule the following day. I wasn't sure if it was because of the wine or my sheer exhaustion, but I was extremely tired by the end of the meal--hauling my numbed body to my bedroom and collapsing onto the mattress. My eyelids drooping and heavier than lead, I didn't remember much after that except the sickly sweet smile Charlie gave me from the dinner table as I drifted into a deep sleep.

***

I woke up in my desk feeling fine and reinvigorated. The wall clock showed it was a quarter past nine. Wait, I didn't have a wall clock in my room. I didn't bother bringing it with me during the move. I turned my gaze to the desk in front of me. It was covered in a mess of scattered notebooks, papers, and pens and I noticed the standing picture frame that displayed Charlie's senior year portrait. The glass was as clear as can be. The frame itself was devoid of any stains or scratches. His hair was still that hypnotic shade of raven black.

Then there came a knocking on the door. A set a three hits and a worried voice that promptly told me it was the night of the incident without a shadow of a doubt.

"Honey," my mother called out, rapping her knuckles on the door with a growing concern, "We need to talk--urgently. It's about your brother."

"Yea? Come in," I answered, hearing her open the door and seeing her step inside and sit stiffly on the edge of my bed with her hands folded neatly over her legs.

Fidgeting with her hands, she said, "I'm not quite sure how to break this to you."

Charlie was in the other room playing video games or whatever. I knew this, but I also knew that he wasn't going to be fine as I anticipated her following words.

"What's wrong?"

"Look... remember when you complained to me about your missing shirts and underwear? That you believed I was losing them while doing the laundry?"

"Yeah...?"

"I was cleaning his room today and I found them there. All of them--some stuffed inside a pillow case, a few in his backpack, another in closet inside a container..."

"Hmm," I said, sensing then that something wasn't quite right, "So--why were you searching so carefully in his room to begin with?"

"It's a total mess. I don't understand how he lives in that trash heap. I cleaned--the entire room... and found everything."

Mom wasn't sad or angry. She had the brittle composure of a conductor who had witnessed their performance fall apart, but still needed to maintain that falsified sense of confidence for them to salvage the rest of the piece. It was a temporary state of shock due to wear off. Her mind must have been spinning to conjure some reactionary plan to limit whatever harm was bound to be caused by her unfortunate discovery.

My own mind screamed "tell me," though my gut told me it might be better not to hear whatever she was preparing to reveal and kept me silent.

"There was also a book."

Confused, I supposed, "What? Like a diary, manifesto, or something?"

"I was going to show you, but...," she said, pausing with her hand up to her mouth--eyes dry and centered on her knuckles. At first I thought she was stifling back tears. Then she breathed in slowly through her nose and swallowed a big clump of saliva pooling in her mouth. She was nauseous.

"Tell me," I said quietly, not realizing those exact words had left my mouth.

"Pictures of you. Dozens. There was a scrapbook and pictures were taped to every page along with his writing. Pictures of you from vacation, at the beach...... in the shower, sleeping...," she gasped, enunciating the last few words with immense concern and disgust in her voice.

"You need to find a job as quickly as possible after you graduate and move away. In fact, I'm willing to pay your rent initially until you find that job... Mark, I really fear for you. We have to get Charlie the help he needs," she said with steely resolve, her cold hand squeezing mine.

My brother was this obsessed with me? Was he stalking me to kill me? No. He was always warm and intimate. Too intimate. Deep down inside, a part of me knew something along these lines was bound to happen. I'd seen all the signs and hints, whether it was him being inseparable from me in our youth or his attention seeking behavior--hugging me and daring to kiss me on the cheek to my dismay.

His greatest victories were when he caught me staring. He was beautiful--and fully aware of it and how to use it. Charlie would flip his hair in front of me or pull on the waistband of the leggings that stuck to his body like glue. He would lounge on my bed as I studied and show off his sexy legs in a skirt and wiggle his bare feet. He gave me a copy of that damned senior portrait so that I'd never forget his enchanting eyes, plump lips, sculpted jawline, and mesmerizing locks. He was the little devil on my shoulder constantly leading me astray and towards sin.

There wasn't any other option. Her plan was the only way the both of us would manage to quell each of our own obsessions with the other. That undeniable attraction we shared but couldn't act on--that electricity--could it ever be shaken?

"Promise me!," she sputtered, like a priest commanding the devil out of a possessed victim, "Promise me you'll never cross that line with your brother."

She waited for my response with a frenzied look, jolting and shrinking back upon hearing the sound of an opened door and Charlie's accelerating footsteps. He charged in, throwing the door against the wall in a loud crash and dropping his head after seeing our respective expressions. The cat was out of the bag.

"Don't you see she's fucking manipulating you? Controlling you, restricting you? She always has," he pleaded, holding my arm in a vice grip, "I admit it. I love you. Love, love you. Always. But whatever she said about me, whatever she framed as dirty and unforgivable... I only did those things to feel closer to you."

Charlie pulled me against his body and gave our mother who stood behind us in horror a cold, possessive look. His fingers traced up and down my back, creasing my shirt and making my stiffening manhood lurch in my pants.

"It's ok, it's ok, Marky. I'm sorry I wasn't forward enough in the past, but I promise I'll take proper charge from now on."

Mom ran up to us and forcibly yanked him away with both hands on his left shoulder. She slapped him hard across the face, leaving a burning, red handprint on his pale cheek. Charlie felt his face in disbelief and seemed as if he were ready to do something terrible.

"Stop! STOP! The both of you... please," I begged, turning towards our mother, "please don't punish him too harshly. Please... do you really have to keep us separated forever...?"

For a while, the room was silent--save for the sounds of muffled breathing and gentle sobbing coming from them. Seeing her youngest son's vulnerable state, Mom took the chance to drag me out of the room, leaving Charlie alone and on his knees.

I could hear him yelling after me in the hallway, "NOTHING CAN KEEP ME AWAY. We'll be together again soon enough... and then... NOTHING can ever take you away from me again..."

VI.

My eyes snapped open, seeing the ceiling above illuminated by the square light that hung in the center of the room--shadows dancing in the swirling space around me and accompanied by my heart's fierce thumping. I desperately needed to breathe, but my mouth was sealed shut with a piece of duck tape, so I was rapidly inhaling through my inflamed, flared nostrils. I watched my bare chest rise and fall rhythmically and was suddenly reminded of the cold. I went to pull over a blanket, only to discover that my hands were fastened to the bedpost with metal handcuffs. I tried to move my feet, but they were tied as well.

What was the last thing that happened? Charlie got in a fight with Mom over me? No, no, that was a memory. That's it. I had dinner with him and fell unconscious right after. And now I was spread eagle, naked on my bed and completely restrained. I forced my head up, neck straining, and noticed a tripod set up in the corner. I didn't own any filming equipment.

I yanked on the handcuffs and cried out for help--letting out muffled screams that would have barely even made it past my own apartment walls. The doorknob turned and the door gave way to reveal Charlie standing just outside the bedroom. I groaned and pushed the back of my head into the bedpost at the mere sight of his ridiculous getup. He had on a white set of bridal lingerie with floral patterns woven into the sheer, lace fabric. It consisted of a bra that hugged tightly against his flat chest, stockings which rode up to his thighs, and a pair of panties with a lace strap that struggled to contain his throbbing meat.

He opted for a more mature look with his makeup--the heavy mascara and red lipstick making him morph into the wedding night partner of my dreams. Striking a sensual pose--Charlie dragged the ornate hem on one of the stockings further up his thigh and twirled a set of keys on his other hand in the air. The keys were carelessly tossed behind him as he skipped inside and picked up his phone from my desk. Gone was my only chance at escape.

His gaze was unnerving and filled with determination. It was borderline predatory. Charlie sat down on the edge of the bed, his light frame making the mattress sink by the tinniest amount. He shot his arm out and groped my dick while making a peace sign for the selfie he was taking with me. I was already hard and reached full mast under a second between his soft fingers. I grunted in protest and floundered against the restraints.

"Shhhhhhhh, shhh, relax," he shushed me, standing up and walking to the tripod. Inserting his phone into the clamp, he switched on the nearby ring light and began recording the bed.

Looking directly into the camera, he waved to it cutely with both hands and said playfully, "Hiiiiiii, if you're watching this, that means you were given the immense privilege of seeing my official sex tape."

"MMmmmmmmm," he moaned sensually, before turning demure and adding, "As you guys may know... I am a virgin~. I've been saving myself for that special someone--who just so happens to be my big broothheer. He's a virgin like me--or at least he better FUCKING BE unless he wants me to cut that pretty cock of his clean off--and I can't wait for us to take turns pounding each other's holes~. Oouugghhh, look, I'm so hard just from thinking about his tight ass taking allllll six and a half inches of my boi cock."

His dick spilled out from his panties and he wiggled it from side to side like fish bait. It was terrifying to see the drastic difference between his lively, happy mannerism and the brief flashes of his bloodthirsty spite and jealousy. Even more terrifying was the thought of his huge, veiny shaft breaking into my untouched butthole.

"Charlie... please, no... please stop... Charlie," I whimpered futilely into the tape.

"Note to self to edit this next part out," he muttered dryly, turning towards me, and I swore a dark shadow passed over his face.

"Mark...," he began, approaching me step by step as though he were a panther stalking its prey. His left eye twitched concurrently with his penis, whose foreskin had peeled back on its own beyond the width of his crown--leaving his dark maroon tip exposed and crying with precum. He nearly snarled when my own length had began to wilt in response to his threatening demeanor.

"Enough games. I don't appreciate the way you've been avoiding me--honestly, just completely resisting me since I came here. Why? Why do you treat me like I'm some ugly slut that puts you off?"

The fear and excitement that gripped me in that moment--I was utterly spellbound and incapable of coherent speech, reduced to a cowering animal who could only shudder and wail in protest.

Eyes widening to extent where they seemed borderline inhuman, Charlie said, "You used to love me. Yes, we were kids and you had to treat me as your brother, but you cared about me, nurtured me, gave a shit about me... you did all those things no one else bothered to do and made me feel like I was genuinely worth something... My crush only got worse and worse as time went. Then, when we could actually be together, why did you rip it all away? Why, why, why? Why did you leave my chest a gaping wound? And don't you dare bring her into this. That bitch means nothing to me... maybe at some point in the past, but it's long gone now."

My body's muscles went limp and I let my head fall into the soft pillow. I finally understood. That's why he did porn. He did it to fill the void in his heart I had left behind. He did it to express his love and to feel desired again--to feel like a person who mattered. A person worth showering with money and attention. A person worth worshipping.

"You have two options. One: you be honest with yourself and accept our love. You let me stay with you and we build a life together. Or two... you reject me and your true feelings and I show the footage to Mom and Dad. Oh, and "what footage" you may ask? Our sex tape, don't you remember? Cause no matter what you say next I'm fucking your brains out--even if this is the last time we'll ever talk. It didn't have to come down to this. But you kept pushing me away and forced my hand. So... nod once for yes and twice for no."

Dang it, why was I getting an erection? This corner he managed to back me into, why was it so hot to be entirely at his mercy? I nodded once before I had a chance to realize that he had been planning to blackmail me since the day I had left. My urges had overwhelmed any lingering sense of reason and his grand plan was an astounding success.

Hopping and clapping his hands gleefully, Charlie got on top of the bed and crawled between my legs on all fours. He reached into his panties and took out a small, red elastic ring. Where was he keeping that? I saw he was already wearing a matching cock ring and he deftly rolled it down my shaft and beneath my balls--making my prick stiffen and balloon with more blood than I thought it was capable of holding.

He swiped a bottle of lube from the corner of the bed and scooted his way up--his thighs pressed against mine and member parallel to my aching shaft. It was so weirdly arousing and demeaning at the same to see that my feminine little brother's dick was longer than mine by a solid inch.

"Fuuuuuuccckk, I'm so excited to finally frot. I can see that you feel the same way~," he jeered sultrily, stroking us together with his hand and using the other to drizzle the slimy lotion all over our dueling cocks. He alternated between squeezing and coiling his hand around us and sliding his textured palm against our sensitized heads. His slippery finger pads rubbed the sweet spot on my perineum--bombarding it with a sensory overload.

There hadn't been single moment for me to properly relieve myself since his arrival, hence, I was extremely backed up from his continuous teasing and tapped his leg furiously to signal my premature ejaculation.

"It's ok, you can pop whenever you need to. Cum. Cum for me, Marky. Shoot that spunk all over me. Spurt--spurt--spurt!," he chanted fanatically and quickening the pace of his hand until it was a blur.

My balls clenched and I unloaded a torrent of sperm everywhere, dotting my stomach and ruining his new lingerie. Most of it smothered his cock in my brotherly love. I screamed into the tape and my eyes rolled back. The scene drove Charlie wild and he came within a few seconds after me.

Leaning forward, he caught his breath and peeled the duck tape from my mouth--instantaneously sealing my lips again with his own. He kissed me with reckless abandon while running his hands up and down my chest. His perky nipples and pronounced collarbones looked incredibly kissable, and I wanted so bad just to get a slight feel of his supple hips and pulsing shaft--though I couldn't. I could only lie there and helplessly endure his probing tongue in my mouth and his searching hands all over my body that was burning with pent up emotions for my wicked little brother.

Charlie gently pushed himself up, retracting his lips and leaving strands of spit that connected us for a short while longer as they descended onto my wetted frame. He held himself above me with his arms on either side of my head. His hair created an arc-shaped curtain which draped down around my neck--the hearts in his pupils a show I couldn't resist admiring. Our cock's kissing and refilling with vigor, he panted freely and cocked his head, waiting for my reaction to all this. I chose my words carefully.

"You were spot on. I am a virgin. I needed to move on and find someone, but I couldn't get the infatuation... the love I guess you could say... out of my dreams...... It was a vile thought: the idea that we might meet again someday and revive the bond we once had. Become something more. The thing between us that felt so natural, yet shameful once it evolved and I succumbed to the pressure from our parents and society..."

I was starting to doubt if they truly had our best interests at heart. Would they hurt us this much if they sincerely cared?

"Yes! I would never give in. Never ever--ever. You protected me in more ways than I could count, but that spark is what I'd die for before I'd ever let our love go," he said passionately, his lips quivering.

For too long I believed my dreams were there to remind me of my failures and sins. Now I knew he haunted me in those very dreams to bring me back to the place I had strayed away from. He was saving me from a fate of loss and regret.

"Wait," he said, dismounting and going to get the keys from the hallway. Charlie unlocked my arms and got on top of me once more, this time with his face towards my prick.

"Mmmmm, no running away," he ordered, flattening his tongue along the base of my cock and dragging it against my skin until he reached the tip and took me inside his warm mouth, "put that tongue of yours to good use."

He sealed his lips tightly around me and bobbled along my modest length, swirling his tongue in circles while fondling my balls. I was enjoying my first blowjob all too much and forgot to reciprocate. Squeezing my orbs all of a sudden and making me lurch, Charlie brought me back to reality and made me notice the butt plug nestled deeply within his ass cheeks.

I brushed my fingers up and along his stocking-clad thighs and sunk them into his meaty flesh, resisting the strong urge to slap his lewd rump. Spreading one cheek to the side, I went in and grabbed the base of the plug--dragging it past the clenching muscle of his sphincter in a loud pop and bringing it to my mouth. I sucked it clean of his lightly bitter juices to sample his flavor before diving in and feasting on his loosened hole. I slipped my tongue in, inadvertently humming from the moans he managed to draw out of me with his oral expertise.

Charlie pushed me deeper and deeper into his mouth. I could feel my cock head pushing past the back of his tongue and slipping into his throat. His throat muscles were burning hot and they spasmed and contracted around my shaft, milking the precum out of me and eliciting another guttural groan. I brazenly kneaded his jiggly ass and worked my tongue against the ribbed walls of his colon. Looping my arm around his leg, I stroked his massive, bobbing pole while continuously flapping my tongue in his cavity and furiously rimming him.

He gagged again and decided it was enough foreplay. Pivoting to meet my eyes, Charlie unclamped his bra and casually threw it off the bed.

"I hope you're fine with me wanting to go first? Don't want you to cum first and lose interest in me," he said smugly, laughing without a care in the world.

"... please go easy on me, alright?" I begged, as Charlie squirted a fresh coating of lube on his cock and brought a finger to my inexperienced ass. He gently slipped it in and pushed it deeper until it reached the second knuckle of his middle finger, rubbing my thigh and soothing the mounting tension the entire time.

"Relax, focus on me. Deep breaths," he said, his voice low and hoarse.

He kept easing it in and eventually began curling his finger upward and scraping against my innards--looking for what I could only guess to be my prostate. I knew he found it when that new sensation hit me from within and I felt as if I was going to pee. It was a swelling pleasure, making me moan and clench my toes unconsciously and distracting me from the second and third fingers Charlie was progressively adding inside me. My whole body was trembling and twitching. No masturbatory session had ever been this good.

Charlie worked his hands back and forth, stretching his fingers and loosening my muscled ring.

"Feels amazing, huh? You're not so different than me--a natural born butt slut. My big brother. Taking my fingers like a champ and waiting for my cock like a good, good boy... I'm sooo glad you came around. For that you'll be rewarded," he whispered, sneaking his fingers out and getting closer to me and nestling his tip up against my gaping hole.

"Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod. My big brotheerrr's ass. At last. Fuuccking shiiittt," he babbled into my ear as be entered and thrust his hips.

He nudged my legs back and held them beneath my knees. I was quiet and gritted my teeth, enduring the initial burning pain. I took inch by inch in agony, until he thankfully bottomed out and his smooth nut sacks plopped repeatedly against my lower back while he bred me without remorse--lost in his own pleasure. I was clenching onto the bedsheets for dear life with tears welling in my eyes. Charlie snaked an arm up my torso and to my neck, squeezing it and thumbing my adam's apple affectionately.

"Really try to relax, ok? Cause you're super fucking tight right now."

His length and girth was reaching places his fingers had left unexplored, hitting a depth within me that grew into that familiar pleasure over time. My old self would have been appalled to witness the sight of me being pounded into submission--and by my own brother, no less. But underneath the surface of my good morals and refined character was a corrupted man. It had always been that way since the day Charlie first flaunted his assets and I began to notice.

"Mmmmnnnn," he moaned appreciatively, "I looove how hard you're staying for me."

His grunts became quicker and higher pitched whilst he pummeled me, stopping briefly and pulling out to watch my gaping hole prior to resuming his debauchery, which was wrong on so many levels. He didn't care that it was gay or that it was incest. Those concerns weren't on his radar to begin with. I--on the other hand--was acutely aware of our depravity, but it was simply too deliciously enticing to pass up.

I clamped my muscles down and around his dick, making him sputter obscenities and pull out unexpectedly. He poured a pool of lube in his right palm and brought it to his backside, smearing it over his rosebud and working it inside his channel. Getting on his two feet and squatting above my crotch, Charlie balanced himself against my chest and lined my prick up against his own opening. Easing me in effortlessly and seemingly without any pain, he bit his lip and rode me masterfully like a dildo in one of his videos.

He stroked himself while I gripped firmly onto his hips and began thrusting upwards. His velvety canal was heavenly, its chasm a perfect fit for his big brother and its ribbed, constricting edges milking me better than any hand or toy.

"Ohhhh fuck," I panted, "that's so good. Haaaaaaa--Charlieeeeee..."

He grinned evilly and clenched his walls, giving me a taste of my medicine. Impaling himself on me again and again, he egged me on, taunting, "Showing your true colors, hmm? You dirtied mouth boy."

I was bucking my hips wildly and making the bed rock and slam onto the wall. Seeing my reckless approach to climaxing, he held my thighs down and slowed the pace, grinding against me tenderly and wiggling my dick inside himself--jostling my head against his slippery intestinal lining.

"Easy--easy, Marky. Let me take the lead. Consider this practice for your debut video with me," he managed to say between his cute whimpers and gasps for air, "during which, I need you to last as long as you can and remember our visibility. Either you move or I do, ok, so our fucking is the clearest it can be for the camera."

He guided my hands to his butt and I just focused on kneading his malleable orbs for the camera, spreading them apart so it was clearly visible where my cock was jamming in his tight boy pussy every time he ground himself onto my crotch in the cow-girl position. I guess cowboy in this case?

"It's sorta like writing for piano, right? One hand's part has gotta support and accompany the other hand's and not distract from it. Too much motion is chaotic," he noted. Charlie had obviously drawn a lot from my own teaching style. It felt like a demented version his piano lessons with me.

Although these musings helped me fend off my orgasm for a short while, he soon cradled my head and kissed me--the sheer intimacy of our intertwined tongues and sexes pushing me past the edge. Charlie came at the same moment, his load spraying all over my belly and causing his colon to contract frenziedly and wring every drop of cum out of my sore balls. Shot after shot of my thick seed was deposited deep within his guts. My softening prick slid out with a plop and my baby batter slowly oozed from his gaping anus and onto my groin.

We laid in each other's arms afterwards, basking in that post-sex glow and drifting close to sleep. The cum started to dry on our skin, but that didn't matter. It was a problem for tomorrow. Reluctantly, I left his side momentarily to switch off the lights. I think he thought I was leaving for good as he was sobbing quietly to himself when I returned and brought him ever so close to me--his teardrops wetting my skin.

Continuing to hide his face in my chest, he said softly, "I'm sorry... so, so sorry...... I know I shouldn't be the one apologizing, especially cause I wanted... needed to do that, but I still took advantage of you. I'd understand if you wanted to never see me again or... I don't know--have me arrested. I'm a fucking... terrible person."

"Thank you."

"Huh?" he whispered, unsure if he heard me correctly.

"Thank you. Only your courage could've set me free. And I promised Mom. I promised her I'd prevent you from becoming a 'terrible person.' Because that's what big brothers are for."

VII.

"--yea, definitely. I've been making some real progress with him," I said, spinning in my desk chair and watching my mother's expression lighten up in response.

"Really? I can't believe it. Did you... did you get him to promise to--you know--stop...?" she asked, holding her phone excitedly with both arms and sitting upright on the couch. The pictures of Charlie and I on the wall behind her were visibly cleaner, likely having been recently dusted and wiped. I wonder if she missed us more than she let on.

"How did you ever convince him to quit?" she probed, genuinely curious.

"Ah... you know, I persuaded him that porn... is something that seriously tarnishes your reputation. Sure, it's alluring for the fast cash, but is it actually a sustainable long-term job? I got the point across that it not only makes you look bad and prevents you from getting future work, but that it is also just fundamentally immoral," I said, rubbing the back of my neck and grimacing.

"That it is, Mark. That it is. I'm so happy he finally sees things our way. I'm so proud of you too, hun. Without you, what could your father and I have possibly done?"

"Yeah," I muttered, feeling guilty about lying straight to her face. Eager to change the subject, I scanned the room and saw the early draft of the cover Charlie was designing for my piano book on the table. I picked it up and delightedly presented it to her in front of the phone camera.

"Tada! Charlie designed this for me. He persuaded me to publish my work, and I agreed if he was going to be the one helping me put all these piano sketches together and get them out there. He'll be my agent."

Laughing warmly and care-freely, she replied, "Well, that's wonderful, dear. You put him to good use and get him away from that dirty business. The thing is... I was thinking that we should probably get him back home soon and out of your hair. You have your own life to worry about, after all. I'm sure you love him and are just being thoughtful, but this kind of responsibility shouldn't be put on you long term. And what about your room mate? I'm sure he won't be too happy with Charlie around all the time."

My hand fell to my lap, the camera thankfully pointing away from my immensely angered expression--face twisted and eyes ablaze. How dare she mask her true intentions behind those kind words. I wasn't going to let her tear us apart again and ruin the new life we had painstakingly built together. Charlie was right. Nothing was going to take me away from him this time around.

A text message from him popped up above the video call, saying: "U almost done? Setup's ready." I nearly forgot that I had previously agreed to be with him in one of his videos during the weekend. It was for his highest paying fans or something. And it was already Saturday morning.

Typing "2 min" in response, I brought myself back into frame and began, stumbling over my words, "Let him stay a while. This is the best choice. If I send him back home to you, he'll be absolutely livid--and it'll ruin both our relationships with him. Then he'll start showing you up again and maybe even revert to his 'bad habits' again. Do you want that? Here, I can watch over him and distract him with the publishing stuff. Plus, Jamison's on vacation right now. His school finishes earlier."

Praying that she had bought my fake argument, I watched her contemplate our situation with pursed lips. Before she could open her mouth, I said quickly, "Give him another week, yeah? We can talk again another time. I have to go--someone from work is calling."

I heard her ask "On the weekend?" as my thumb pressed down on the end call button. I tossed my phone on the bed near our dirty clothes and sighed in frustration. I swore she and Charlie were going to be the death of me. At least the anger made me feel less bad about lying to her and sleeping with Charlie. We practically fucked like rabbits the past few days--basically anytime whenever I wasn't working. Despite the sleep I lost, our closeness had lit a fire within me and brought a new level of energy I could only attribute to true love.

Walking into the living room, I saw Charlie sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a camcorder facing him, its tripod positioned on top of the rug. He was completely naked except for the cow-print thigh highs and evening gloves he wore. Scrolling his phone, Charlie swayed his foot in the air--his ankle flexing and toes fanning and curling sexily within the stretchy white nylon.

"We can do foot play later if you want," he said with a sly grin, having caught me blatantly ogling his slender feet.

I nodded, remaining fixated on the objects of my newfound obsession. Charlie uncrossed his legs--revealing his bare, erect cock for me, its foreskin struggling to contain his growing tip. Approaching me, he kissed me softly without tongue and ran his satiny hand along the length of my jaw.

"Did you shave like I asked?" he posed, lifting the hem of my shirt and his cool breath against my cheek.

"Yes."

"Everywhere?"

"Yes. I used the hair removal cream too."

Leading up to this point, we had practiced our sex positions a great deal and studied a lot of gay porn together--which invariably led to more practice. Waiting for him to adjust the camcorder and turn it on, I was hit with a wave of apprehension at the prospect of posting myself online for thousands, if not millions to see. Unlike him, I had multiples jobs and a reputation to lose. I was also in public rather often working with members of the local community. What would they think if word got out that I was a porn star on the side? And what if they went even further and connected the dots? I'd be the brother-loving pervert condemned to a life of infamy.

"Mark? Mark," Charlie said, shaking me out of my fear-induced stupor, "Mark? Look at me. It'll be ok. I have a mask for you. We can even blur your face in post production. Ok? I need you at your best today. Marky?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I should be fine," I said vacantly.

"Imagine the kind of money we'd make. With our cocks and bodies? You might be able to quit one of your jobs. Doesn't that sound nice?" he reasoned, placing the black ski mask in my palm.

"What about you?"

"Me? Pfffftt. I'm long gone. All my fans know my face. This is the life for me."

Clutching the mask, I thought of my piss-poor pay, the long hours I worked, the years I spent toiling to make Mom and Dad look good, and the love and trust between Charlie and I. It was as if every moment I'd shared with him flashed before my eyes--from our piano lessons and time playing together as children to his small graduation party with just the two of us and the day we were forced to separate. I spread wide its bottom opening and tugged it over my head, lining my eyes and mouth up with the three small holes.

Smiling ever so sweetly at me as I stripped naked, he hit the start button and led me into the frame of the recording camera.

***

Standing beside the couch, we kissed sloppily for the camera--sucking on each other's tongues loudly with audible smacks and squelches while also stroking one another's shafts in preparation. Charlie lowered to his knees and tied his hair up, never breaking eye contact with me the entire time. His mouth descended on my aching shaft--more and more until my balls were nestled against his chin. His tongue slithered and teased me from below as he deep throated me, his hands tracing my firm butt and slithering above my abs and teasing my nipples.

I took a firm hold of his ponytail and pulled him away. Remaining on his knees with his tongue out, Charlie stretched the sides of his mouth with his fingers in invitation.

I face-fucked him relentlessly knowing his seasoned throat could handle my roughness with grace. He gagged lightly, but his esophagus was relaxed and tightened rhythmically around my girth. The spit in his mouth accumulated and frothed as my cock churned his gullet and the saliva began drooling down the corner of his lips and onto the soft rug. His throat game wasn't nearly this good three days ago. I was already sensing my impending orgasm, and couldn't let myself finish this quickly during the video, so I guided him upwards once more--this time to my lips.

Leaning into me with a single leg playfully kicked in the air behind him, Charlie wrapped his arms around my neck and passionately swapped spit with me. It felt so wrong to taste the saliva that had been coating my cock just moments earlier. He was being extra lovey dovey with me, and while it was nothing new since the night we lost our virginities, I wondered if he was especially turned on by that rush of knowing that you were being watched.

Cupping his hand and whispering into my ear, he said, "It's like being on stage, right? Can you imagine everyone's faces? Shocked, appalled, curious, or maybe aroused? Let's properly express our love for all of them. On your knees."

My heart skipping a beat and forehead beading with sweat, I sunk to the ground and eyed his looming, purple-red monster. This would only be my second time taking him in my mouth and I suspected he wanted my inexperienced to show through on film. I licked tentatively at his bulging tip, sampling his salty precum and suckling on his head. I felt his slender fingers cradle the back of my skull and guide me further down his length, his meat pushing against the back of my tongue and making me salivate queasily. It battered my uvula relentlessly and filled my windpipe entirely while I consciously tried to breath calmly through my nose and keep my teeth back.

Wanting him to feel good, I stroked the base of his cock and persisted in my efforts. His delicious moans were positively dripping with lust as he amped up his performance for his best fans. He was a god: his flawless, feminine physique and masterful movements expressing the human ideals of beauty and desire to their greatest extent. It should have hurt for my mouth to be used so harshly, and yet I was hard the whole time as I worshiped and submitted myself completely to him. This was the last piece of the puzzle that I was previously too ignorant to comprehend. Our intimacy was art to him. Sex and its preservation on film was an art form to him.

Charlie pushed me gently into the sofa and I instantly understood what he implied. I crawled on all fours on the couch cushions--face down and ass arched in the air to the best of my ability, with the camera directed at my side profile. He got behind me, rubbing my butt cheeks and pouring a generous amount of lube on my crack and his member. My colon loose and well accustomed to his familiar size, he penetrated me easily and drove his cock all the way inside. He slapped my ass and fucked me in this doggy position for all the world to see.

My precum drooled lewdly over the soiled cushions and my prick shook and swung obscenely whilst my brother pounded me.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I gasped, mouth smushed against the fabric. My innards molding to the shape of his giant penis, I could feel his tip scrape against every square inch of my tender tissue and prod my prostate--eliciting shameful groans of pleasure from myself.

"Ahnnnnnn, taking me so good. Like the slut you are," he seethed, thrusting faster and harder into my sore rectum.

The years he spent in our parent's grasp had made him a little harsh and rough around the edges, but he proved to me in the past and recently again his capacity for kindness and compassion--though I sometimes wondered if it only applied to me. So, it was a slap in the face to hear him say those scathing words. The kind of slap that got you hot and bothered.

In one swift motion, he buried his shaft in the farthest depths of my gut, stuffing me full and unloading his jizz to flood my intestines with his incestuous seed. Charlie dismounted and went to grab the camcorder, bringing it close to my gaping hole. He zoomed in closer on the cum that spilled out as I accidentally let out a fart. My face was a burning shade of crimson. I think he discovered my humiliation kink and made it his goal to exploit it as much as possible.

Then, with the camcorder still in his hand, Charlie fell back onto the sofa and spread his legs apart--tempting me into pounding his wobbling cheeks for a POV scene. Eyes and camera transfixed on his own semi-hard dick and waiting asshole, he spread his rosebud with his remaining hand and lifted his foot higher in the air and close to me.

He was smart to take direct control of the camera in that moment. Driven by nothing but sheer lust and instinct, there was no way I would remember the details of proper camera work and acting once I shoved my cock straight into his needy boy hole. My fucking was no acting. It was real and raw. I seized his pretty, little, nylon-coated foot and jammed it inside my mouth, swirling my tongue around each of his dainty toes as I bred my brother with the sole purpose of insemination in mind. All the way in and all the way out. Back and forth.

"Inside! Give it to me. FUCK, baby, give me that cock," he wheezed, his arm shaking and doing its best to keep the shot steady.

I spit on his softening rod, stroking it and not allowing it to go limp. He encouraged me with his stupidly, sexy expression--eyes crossed and tongue hanging loose. Too bad the camera wouldn't pick it up. I guess it was only for me. Fighting the urge to kiss him, knowing it would ruin the POV shot, I sought my revenge and choked him ever so slightly with the veins bulging on the back of my hand. I thoroughly punished his greedy femboy pussy. His legs wrapped around me and his heels dug into my back. Dirty clapping noises echoed throughout the apartment.

"Fuck, wait. WAIT," he said, ending the recording. I stepped away, nervous I had done something wrong and my prick awfully lonely. Charlie got on his feet and slotted the camcorder into the tripod. He repositioned it so it now faced the balcony on the left side of the living room. Drawing the curtains open and starting the camera, my brother leaned against the glass door on his tippy toes and gave me the horniest look imaginable. I immediately stood behind him, grabbing his hips and slotting my meat into his anus.

To hell with it. Who cared it anyone could see us fucking from outside. With the world as our stage, I plowed him and planted kisses all over his thin, pale neck. I tested the limits of the glass with my force and it thankfully didn't give way when I finished inside Charlie and pumped him full of my gooey spunk--my second load as potent and substantial as the first. Spurt after spurt I shot into him, draining myself of all my energy and promptly tumbling onto the sofa.

I watched him smear the white, flowing rivulet around his crevice and bring it to his mouth. He skipped to the camcorder, ending the film and holding it up.

"This is pure gold," he pronounced, hugging the device.

"One more round? Just for us?" he suggested.

I mumbled feebly in response and tried to regain my wits for both of our sake's. I tore off the mask and wiped the sweat across my forehead.

"This is me getting even with you."

"Hmm?" I asked lazily, unsure of what he meant.

"When you recorded me without permission and made me fuck up. Like, what, 7 years ago?" he said cheekily, referring to our first piano lesson together, "but... you held your own earlier. You were always a good performer."