Good Intentions Ch. 03

"Yeah, but, we can do that in ways that don't involve, uh, you-know-what."

"I like sucking you off, though," Quinten huffed, which earned him a sheepish wince. "And you like it, too."

"It- it shouldn't matter what I like. This is about you." To emphasize, Brian poked him squarely in the chest.

Quinten took the jab gracefully and did the same back. "And I'm telling you, I'm cool with it."

Brian considered him, arguments circulating around his head in an almost physical manner, until eventually he gave in with a calculated nod. "All right... then, what's really the matter? And don't say it's nothing!"

Quinten shifted his weight from foot to foot, obviously stalling. Telling Brian the truth -about the texts, the phone call, his date- would be in his best interest, he knew that. He wanted that. Advice was sorely needed and Brian was the only one who would understand. Besides, he couldn't keep waffling around forever.

"I'm meeting up with Cal tonight."

"Cal?"

"Sorry, Calvin. My boyfriend."

Brian didn't immediately respond. Quinten looked at him closely and noted the sour look on his face. In any other circumstance, it would have drawn a startled laugh out of him. Instead he stood there with bated breath, uncertain why his brother reacted like someone had gifted him a baggie full of dog shit. It couldn't have been because he forgot why Quinten was giving him blowjobs in the first place... or that he actually did have a boyfriend.

"Isn't that a good thing, though?" Brian asked stiffly.

It should have been, yes. But because I can't stop tripping over myself to smother my face in your crotch and seek your approval, it's a true fuckin' nightmare.

"Well... he's actually kinda upset with me," was what Quinten decided to say aloud.

At that Brian straightened to his full height and a look of astute seriousness came over his face, stopping whatever Quinten wanted to say next in its tracks. It was a little unnerving how imposing Brian had become simply by straightening his posture and setting his mouth into a straight line, the softness around his eyes hardening with righteous intent. It'd been a long time since Quinten had last seen his brother look so protective where he was concerned. The fact that he hadn't even laid out any details yet was something Quinten couldn't help but notice -- and find a little hot.

"Why is he upset with you?" Brian asked sternly, sounding like he wanted to start a fight, "Do you feel unsafe?"

Quinten's heart fluttered. He wanted to lie. He wanted to lie so bad.

"No, he wouldn't hurt me. It's just... I stood him up." A pause. "Last night."

The space between Brian's eyebrows narrowed even further as his brother processed his words before putting one and one together. Then his face fell and he looked young again, as if he carried two masks with him and could switch between them on the fly. Quinten felt like he had whiplash.

"Oh god, I am so sorry. It's my fault-"

"How the fuck was it your fault?" Quinten asked incredulously.

Brian lowered his eyes and sunk his hands into his coat pockets, shrugging. "I distracted you."

"And I was the one who took your pants off. Stop trying to hog all the blame. All that to say, I promised I would make it up to him tonight."

Brian wet the crease between his lips. Quinten remained steadfast in pretending he hadn't noticed. "Are you going to...?" His gaze flicked down, presumably to Quinten's throat, hidden behind his red scarf.

"Mm, that's the plan. If I don't literally choke."

"...I see. Well, don't worry too much about it. You'll do great."

How could he not worry about it? While Brian had been a fine training partner, actually putting what he learned into practice with Cal was a different story altogether. He felt more confident, but at the same time, it would be so easy to underperform. And he was already in enough hot water with Cal to overflow a bathtub. What if he messed up so badly that Cal deigned to dump him right then and there? Then what?

"You really think so?"

"Have I complained so far? With the end result, I mean," Brian hastily blurted at the skeptical look that Quinten shot him with. "No, right? Then he won't either."

"Hm..."

"Hey." Brian reached out and wrapped his fingers around Quinten's scrawny biceps, his head cocked just so. He smiled, the familiarity of it soothing the unease gnawing at Quinten's heart. "You trust me, right?"

Quinten stared directly into his lovely eyes, searching for the answer he already knew deep inside his chest. They may have grown apart over the years, but if the past forty-eight hours were any indication, Quinten knew he could trust Brian not to knowingly hurt him. If he said he could do it, then... he would do it.

"Against all better judgement," Quinten said cheekily, "I do."

A corner of Brian's mouth quirked up. "Asshole."

Hiding a smirk at their playful bantering, Quinten couldn't help but draw himself closer to Brian with a little shuffle, wordlessly asking for some much needed heat and a little comfort. Brian, either reading his mind or finally noticing the way Quinten was shivering, guided him forward the rest of the way until they were outright hugging. The warmth Brian emitted was immediate, the security and affection untethered and bold. It didn't matter that they were outside where anyone could see them, Quinten embraced him like a lover would, chest to chest and groin to groin.

Humorously, Quinten couldn't help but add another point against Calvin: not only was Brian the more talented kisser, but his hugs were just this side of heavenly.

"You'll do great," Brian reiterated against the top of his head, his hands rubbing Quinten's back in firm, heavy strokes, which earned him a pleased hum against the side of his neck. "I promise."

Quinten allowed his body weight to rest fully against him, his eyes half-lidded. "Okay... but if he kicks me out I'm blaming you."

"Haha, fair. Ready to head back? I'm freezing my ass off."

"Oh?" Quinten murmured, then hiding a smirk, slapped his palm against said ass, causing Brian to all but leap into his arms with surprise.

"H-hey!"

"Mm, not quite frozen," Quinten chuckled and couldn't help but give his buns a hearty squeeze with both hands now. Definitely not flabby, either. "It is firm, though," he teased, fluttering his eyelashes up at his brother for good measure.

Brian pushed him away, clearly scandalized. His face was redder than Quinten's scarf and he skittishly kept his eyes focused on a frozen patch of weeds sticking out of a crack in the sidewalk as if he could set it on fire. Quinten was instantly frozen over again, but his brother's reaction had been worth it. It was too goddamn endearing.

"Very funny. C'mon."

They started the short walk back home, having only been outside for the better part of ten minutes. Like before they didn't talk to one another, though this time the silence was less strained and their arms would occasionally brush together, the space between them miniscule but comfortable. Quinten would drop his gaze every now and then, hopelessly curious of what Brian's reaction would be if he were to grab his hand. There was no good reason he could think of to explain the urge, other than he wanted to because it was cold. What held him back was knowing it would put Brian all in a tizzy. He'd already embarrassed him enough by grabbing his ass in public; interlacing their fingers like they were two lovers out on a stroll would have ruined the mood entirely.

Before long they were trudging up the driveway to the house, where upon reaching the front door Brian cleared his throat.

"Soooo," he intoned as they started stamping their ice-encrusted feet onto the Welcome mat, "what time are you headed out?"

"A bit before six," Quinten grunted, "I'm sure mom will want me to stick around for dinner but I may have to skip. Why?"

"Just wondering..."

Quinten side-eyed him, not buying it. They stepped inside and began shedding off their outer layers (and in Quinten's case one of his sweaters), the heat flowing through the house already overbearing. Quinten neatly folded up his scarf and watched his brother from the corner of his eyes, particularly when he ruffled a hand through his damp curls to dislodge any remaining snowflakes. Not for the first time, Quinten thought he looked quite good while doing something mundane. A familiar stirring in his stomach had him guiltily looking elsewhere. No matter how many times he got on his knees for him, his brother was not a hunk of meat for him to drool over. It also wouldn't do for him to get horny right now, not when he had plans with Cal in just a few short hours. He could control himself; it wasn't hard.

"I was thinking," Brian said abruptly, making Quinten wince at the volume of his voice, "we could do something fun until you have to leave."

Quinten flicked his eyes over him, intrigued but apprehensive. "Like?"

Brian grinned, cutely flexing his dimples. "Like watch a movie! I think it'd also help you relax."

Relax? Did he still look uptight or something? Quinten felt neutral, but maybe Brian picked up on something or was still reacting to what Quinten had told him about his date. In either case, he couldn't exactly disagree; watching a movie together sounded like a nice idea.

"As long as I get to choose what we watch."

"Sure," Brian agreed instantly, "I'll get us some drinks."

They separated, Brian all but skipping to the kitchen while Quinten slouched into the living room, where he flopped down on the grey overstuffed couch and started browsing through Netflix. He wasn't in the mood for anything in particular and eventually settled on a mindless action flick with a horrendously low star rating, if nothing else than to have a good laugh at anything that wasn't his life.

As he waited for Brian, Quinten pulled out his phone and noticed that Cal had sent him a message. His heart lodged itself into his throat until he saw that it was merely a heart emoji. He fell back against one of the throw pillows, his face burning with shame. Getting a text from Cal always lifted his spirits, not... scare him. It was hilariously insane how just one careless mistake had ruined his life... Quinten wanted to blame Brian in some capacity, but it wasn't his fault, he hadn't done anything wrong. Brian's only crime was trying to be there for his failing sibling -- albeit in the most bizarre way possible, but at least it meant that he cared. The only one to blame in all of this was Quinten himself.

God how he hated himself.

"You want the strawberry or Pepsi?"

Startled, Quinten whipped his head around, his eyes fixing instantly on Brian emerging from the kitchen with a can of soda in each hand. Brian stopped on a dime, the smile on his lips falling away.

"Quin? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. I was lost in thought." His eyes flit left then right. "I'll take the Pepsi, I guess."

Brian hummed, not moving. He seemed to be studying Quinten for any further clues to what had made him jumpy, then forcing a smile back on his face, came the rest of the way over and took the spot next to him. Quinten curled up against the arm of the couch as Brian removed two wooden coasters from the fancy holder sitting in the middle of the coffee table before placing their cold, dewy sodas on top of them. He cracked his open, took a long drag, then returned it with a soft tap. Quinten ignored his.

"What'd you pick out?" Brian asked while getting comfortable. He leaned back, and crossing his left ankle overtop his right knee, threw his arms back over the top of the couch, which served to stretch out his torso and draw eyes down the length of his body to his dick.

Or, rather, Quinten's eyes.

It took Quinten a second too long to realize that Brian was wearing the pants he'd been wearing last night, the tight stretch of the fabric making his bulge look like a nicely wrapped gift. Brian, painfully oblivious to the sex appeal he gave off, innocently smiled at Quinten while stray locks of his hair curled roguishly over his forehead. If it weren't for it, Quinten would have crawled into his lap and sat his little ass down on that magnificent lump of flesh with a smile of his own. But since he was trying to be good and chaste, he ignored the way his body thrummed with a yearning to be manhandled and took to staring straight ahead.

"Something cheesy. That cool?"

"Yeah. Ready whenever you are."

Quinten pressed Play. For the first twenty minutes he hardly blinked, his conscious much too loud. What was he even doing? He should've been groveling at his boyfriend's feet for his mercy and forgiveness, not watching a shitty movie at his brother's side, all the while wishing with all his might for said brother to read his mind and drag him on top of his inviting thighs... What ultimately calmed the creeping panic was the simple notion that he didn't want to appear like an eager puppy to two of the most important men in his life; it wouldn't be indicative of his maturity to act like a simpering animal. He would be patient and stern, like always. Nothing he couldn't handle. And when the movie ended, he'd take a leisure shower, bid Brian adieu, and go show Cal his new trick. All would be a-okay.

With that in mind, Quinten unfurled from his cramped position to pull the tab on his soda. It cracked open with a satisfying fizzle, and the first sip was nothing less than heavenly. Beside him, Brian let out a cackle in response to the leading man yelling wordlessly in anger at whatever the bad guy did, complete with fists shaking in the air above his head. It should have been an emotional moment for the audience as well, judging by the music swelling before the screen faded to black and made way for a somber funeral during the middle of a downpour. If Brian's reaction was any indication, it didn't quite land.

"Enjoying it?" Quinten asked after taking another sip.

Brian nodded, his lips twitching with the newest urge to laugh at the leading man attempting not to break down into sobs as a casket was lowered into the earth, which unfortunately made him look more constipated than anything.

"It's so bad. How does this shit get green-lit?"

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Because whippersnappers like you know everything," Brian lightly stated.

"You are such a dork," Quinten muttered. "I can't believe we're brothers."

"Yeah, yeah."

Quinten set his soda down and pulled his sleeves down low over his cooled fingers to warm them back up, then tucking his hands beneath his armpits, settled back to actually pay attention to the movie. He could sense Brian peeking at him from the corner of his eyes, though he had no idea what for. He was comfortable, sedated. It reminded him of earlier, but there was no need to watch him in case of an outburst or meltdown.

Then... he noticed it.

Little by little Brian was shifting closer and closer with microscopic scoots. Quinten didn't react, curious of his endgame but not wanting to get his hopes up in case he was imagining it. It was during a chaotic car chase when Brian made his intentions clear. Faking a stretch, he wrapped an arm around the back of Quinten's shoulders and gently squeezed his bicep. Quinten turned his head to regard him coolly while inwardly jumping with joy. Brian paid his quirked eyebrow no attention and continued watching the movie as if he didn't just pull a cliché straight out of a teen movie.

"It's amazing you get any dates at all," Quinten teased, his heart rate slowing at how ridiculous Brian was being.

Brian's face twitched as he fought to keep from smirking. "Shut up, you know you like it."

Holding back a smile, Quinten scooted the rest of the way over and leaned his head against Brian's shoulder, showing that he did, in fact, like it. Much like a hummingbird staying aloft, Quinten could hear Brian's heart going a mile a minute as he snuggled in closer and eased his arm across his brother's soft stomach in a half-hug. He was reminded of the similar way they cuddled last night after Brian had jerked him off and fucked his thighs. He wondered if Brian was also drawing parallels between then and now, but not wanting to ruin things, Quinten wisely kept his mouth shut.

They continued watching the movie in companionable peace, only breaking position to reach for their soda every few minutes before slotting back together, always at slightly different positions than they were in before. At the moment Brian had an arm wound around Quinten's waist, his fingers making lazy circles against his skin just beneath the hem of his sweater. Quinten was more or less curled up into his brother's side, his knees pulled up onto the couch and his right hand resting idly against Brian's pectoral, soothed by the rhythmic pace of his heartbeat. It was highly domestic, and for the life of him Quinten couldn't find it within himself to care how it would look to others.

That changed when their mother took a shortcut through the living room to get to the kitchen, presumably to start prepping for dinner. Quinten hadn't heard her approach, his senses pleasantly dulled after being cocooned by a blanket of security. Her footsteps were non-existent as if she were made of air, and ironically enough, it was when she stopped dead in her tracks less than a foot away from the couch that Quinten realized they weren't alone.

Something uncomfortly heavy settled in Quinten's stomach before his brain could fully comprehend the danger they were in. Once it did, the shock was like nothing he had ever felt before. Every point of contact between his body and Brian's felt like it was on fire, like their skin had been doused in acid, making it impossible to concentrate or even breathe. He tried getting away so that he could have a moment to re-center himself but Brian refused to let him up, unaware of their mother gaping at them with her eyebrows lifted sky high with surprise.

"What's the matter?" Brian started to ask, his voice twinged with a hint of pain from Quinten's fingernails biting into his chest. "What's-his-face is fine, he's not gonna d-"

"Boys?"

Brian stilled at the sound of her voice cutting through the noise from the movie, his eyes widening before swiftly swiveling to the left to acknowledge her. Quinten tensed, holding his breath as her dark eyes flit from one to the other as though trying to solve a complicated puzzle. If only he had the ability to read her mind to know what ran rampant across her brain upon finding her kids holding one another so lovingly. More importantly, he wished he had the willpower to make himself disappear. Preferably forever.

To his shock, Brian suddenly began smiling, as innocent as a newborn lamb. "Oh, hey," he said casually like he wasn't in a compromising position with his little brother, "What's up?" He snatched up the remote and paused the movie, allowing space for conversation.

Quinten swallowed nervously, unsure where his brother's confidence came from. He tried pushing himself away to have his own space but Brian's abrupt grip around his side had him faltering. He looked up at him, his face slack with question; Brian paid him no mind, his gaze steadily fixed on their mother, who blinked back at them as though still processing.

"Nothing," she said deliberately, and as if coming out of a trance, crossed her arms under her bosom with a shrug and stalked closer as if wanting to get a better look. "I'm just surprised to see you two getting along. I thought you were fighting," she added as an afterthought.

"Oh," Brian breathed out a laugh. He let go of Quinten to pinch his cheek between the pads of his fingers, the action making Quinten scowl in annoyance; he hated it when people did that. He wasn't a toddler, for fucks sake! "We're good now. Right, Quiny-poo?"

"Right," Quinten muttered while swatting him away.