Good Intentions Ch. 03

Apparently finding no harm in them cuddling, she smiled easier and resumed her walk through the living room. "Alright, you two. Enjoy the rest of your movie. Dinner should be done in about an hour."

"Thanks, mom!" Brian trilled along with a wave. Once she was completely out of sight, he let out a strained chuckle and leaned his head back against the couch.

Quinten sat up without hindrance that time and thumped him on the chest. "Dude, what the hell was that!"

"What?" Brian coughed, rubbing where he'd been hit.

"Why didn't you let me up? She probably thinks something's going on..."

"It would have been more suspicious if you suddenly threw yourself onto the floor," Brian told him sensibly. He sat up from his slouch and ran a hand through his fringe. His curls sprang back into position along with one of his trustworthy smiles like everything's roses. Against all odds, Quinten felt the last of his nervous energy disappear into the void. Ugh, it was becoming super dangerous how easily Brian could mold his emotions to the way he wanted them to be. Somehow, someway, Quinten was going to make that illegal. "It's okay, Quin." He held his arms out, expectant. "C'mere."

Quinten shied away from him, unsure if they should. "I don't..."

"Please? I was enjoying it."

Quinten hesitated, but at Brian's patient persistence, he flopped back against his side. Brian immediately encircled him within his arms and pressed a lingering kiss on his temple. When neither of their parents popped into existence to accuse them of anything, Quinten dropped the rest of his guard and set his hand on Brian's stomach low enough to feel the cool aura of his belt buckle. One beat later, he fully gave in to his need to be held and leaned up to tuck his head under Brian's jaw. Brian nuzzled him then resumed the movie, the little bar at the bottom of the screen letting them know that there was half an hour left.

Just one half hour... then he would have to leave Brian's embrace and face the music. Feeling anxious for reasons he didn't want to entertain, Quinten's enjoyment of the movie dwindled down to nothing, the last act flying swiftly past his focus in a blur of noise and color. He sighed and began fidgeting; if it annoyed his brother, he didn't show it and merely moved with him to accommodate each wiggle and twist. Eventually Quinten turned his head to press his cold nose against Brian's collarbone, the sweater he was wearing buttery soft and smelling faintly musky. He heaved another sigh and closed his eyes.

Abruptly, Brian derailed his melancholy by gingerly carding his fingers through his hair, his ministrations that of someone who knew not to paw senselessly through it like a madman. It wasn't like it was unusual considering they had the same curl type, but it sent pleasant shivers racing up the back of his neck to feel someone treat him with care, and it soothed him enough to the point where the apprehension that had made him restless was chased away.

Humming, Quinten tilted his head back to gaze up at his brother with newfound adoration. Brian looked serene while he effortlessly calmed Quinten down, his eyes glazed over as if lost in a trance, as if he found his happy place and couldn't be disturbed. Quinten realized something, then. Something that warmed him and made his heart ache with emotions that he couldn't process. As much as he didn't want it to happen, if things somehow fell apart with Calvin, Quinten knew that he could fall back on Brian, that he could trust him to catch him and reassure him that he was good enough. His knight in shining armor.

Feeling the loaded stare, Brian looked down at him in question. Something unknowable crossed his face as he gazed into the complicated expression Quinten fixed him with, then after a moment passed, one corner of his mouth quirked up, his eyes turning infinitely fond. He tenderly stroked Quinten's cheek with the back of his knuckles as if he were spun of glass.

"You know," Brian murmured, his breath hot as it fanned out over Quinten's face, "When you look at me like that I feel like the luckiest man alive."

Quinten bit back an embarrassing sound, his cheeks pinking. He was hard pressed to recall Cal ever being this way with him - soft and attentive and loving. When they were together, Cal seemed more interested in sticking his tongue down his throat, which, fine, he liked making out as much as the next person, but he enjoyed cuddling and sweet talk, too. Something panged in his chest at the realization that his own brother treated him better in the span of a weekend than the man he'd been dating for an entire month.

He could've laughed. Cried, even.

Instead he slid his hand along Brian's jaw and urged him closer, the rough bristles of his brother's beard scratching his palm as Brian eagerly nuzzled into his touch. Quinten's eyes dropped to his perfect lips, curved with a smile. His thumb traced the bow of his bottom lip, the flesh yielding to his press and causing a swathe of pink to color Brian's cheeks. Feeling bolstered by Brian's docile reaction, Quinten erased the small gap between them.

At first, he thought Brian would pull away and tell him off for breaking a promise. His body stiffened at the unexpected contact and his free hand came to a rest against Quinten's right pectoral as though to push him away. There was a long pause of uncertainty, then Brian's hand was moving, gliding up until he could cup Quinten's neck, his head tilting barely a second later, accepting the kiss. Quinten knew he could die happy in this moment. Their parents could have started a parade in front of them for all he cared, the fear of being caught by them neatly severing as Brian moaned at him and licked eagerly between his lips like a man starved. Quinten met his eager tongue with his own, easily enticing his brother in a playful fight for dominance that had no clear winner. The taste of strawberry fizzled on his tastebuds, making him keen for more.

When they broke apart to take in deep breaths, Brian chuckled, his eyes shining with barely concealed delight. "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"We did," Quinten agreed, idly fondling his chest, "but you can't say something like that without expecting a man to feel a little frisky."

"Mm, you got me there... I couldn't help myself. You really were looking at me like..." Brian trailed off, his expression morphing into something soft and unsure. Quinten waited for him to say what he wanted to say, curious of how well he could read him. To his disappointment, Brian merely shook his head with a self-deprecating smile. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Brian," Quinten started to say but his brother hushed him with a finger against his lips.

"Do you... maybe wanna go upstairs?" Brian murmured, his gaze growing heavy with lust, "I'm a little horny." He slid his finger down Quinten's bottom lip as he admitted it, then together with his thumb, held his brother's chin.

Quinten shuddered at the proposal and nodded, allowing Brian to slide just this once; next time, though, they were going to talk things out. He leaned in for another heady kiss, their mouths slotting together like they were made for each other. Brian's hand fell away from his face to drag down his torso until he reached the hem of Quinten's sweater, where he wasted no time in slipping his fingers beneath it. Quinten whimpered as his brother weaved his way upward until he found a nipple, which he gently pinched between the pads of his fingers. It was the first time Brian had bothered to lay an intimate hand on him during foreplay, and he couldn't say that he hated it. On the contrary, it made Quinten feel even more arduous and pliant. He melted under the touch and ran his palm up Brian's thigh, his thumb pressing snuggly against the inner seam of his jeans and making Brian's hold on his nipple tighten to the point of delicious pain. And to think, Brian wanted to stop doing this with him. The fucking nerve.

When he reached his crotch and gave the bulge there a rough squeeze, Brian pulled away, flushed and panting.

"Upstairs," he growled. "Now."

But Quinten didn't want to go upstairs. He wanted more of his brother's growls and kisses and touches. Going upstairs would mean parting and waiting. He couldn't wait any more, he didn't want to. And why should they? The couch was more than comfy.

Ignoring him, Quinten took matters into his own hands by doing what he wanted to do over an hour ago, and that was sit in his brother's lap, his knees bracketing around Brian's stouter hips to prevent an escape. Brian wrapped his fingers about his waist and stared up at him like he'd been slapped in the face.

"Um..." Brian looked like a startled bird when his little brother then pressed his palms against his shoulders and pinned him against the back of the couch, the fire in his voice wavering to a significant degree. "We, we should take this upstairs..." Despite his protest, the amount of struggle he put up equated to a dying fish and he made no move to remove his hand from under Quinten's sweater. Quinten wasn't surprised. Like this, with rational thought swiftly ebbing away to make way for primal endeavors, the authority Brian yielded like a drawn sword crumpled into dust.

"Why?" Quinten breathed against the shell of his ear before biting the lobe and drawing a low halted moan from Brian. He then dragged his hand down over Brian's chest and towards his belt buckle, his own heart mercilessly thumping against his ribs.

"We'll get caught for sure," Brian reasoned out while at the same time he couldn't seem to stop himself from playing with Quinten's other nipple. "The living room isn't exactly private."

Quinten glanced off towards the kitchen, where the sounds of vegetables being washed and chopped carried to their ears. He had no idea where their father was; maybe upstairs in his office, busy with last minute work before Christmas next weekend, or in the garage, tinkering away with his project car. At any point in time either one of them could appear unannounced and catch them having sex. The threat of them seeing was very real. Quinten didn't want to hit pause, but at the same time, getting caught would mean that they'd be separated, and he didn't think that he could stomach it.

He started backing off, only to freeze when Brian grabbed his wrist with his free hand and smiled up at him as if he hadn't just been jittery at the prospect, his pupils dilated to twice their size.

"But at the same time, the thought of our parents walking in on us turns me the fuck on." He reinforced that by making Quinten touch his bulge again, where behind the rough fabric Quinten easily felt his dick excitedly jump.

Quinten stroked it, easily discarding the very real threat like it was nothing more than an empty gum wrapper. "It does?" he asked, awed at watching his brother's face slacken at his touch.

Brian nodded before leaning his head back against the couch. His free hand moved to cup Quinten's right asscheek within his palm; he squeezed it, his touch as confident as it was gentle. Quinten cheeks blossomed with a blush, his affection and attraction to Brian skyrocketing off the charts the more he laid his hands on him.

"The thought hit me last night," Brian admitted, his eyes fluttering closed, "I know its risky, but..." He bit into his bottom lip before whispering out, "fuck me, Quin, I came so hard this morning thinking about it."

"Are you- are you saying you masturbated while thinking about me?" Quinten breathed, his heart going double time in his chest as he heard loud and clear what Brian didn't say out loud. He knew Brian could feel it, pumping frantically with adrenaline just beneath the tips of his fingers.

Brian immediately looked chastised. "Ye-yeah... sorry, I didn't mean-"

Quinten slammed their mouths together in a fierce kiss as his hands made quick work unfastening Brian's pants. He couldn't explain it. Knowing that his brother got off while thinking of them in bed together made him want to soar high above the clouds and never touch Earth again. What started off as practice to get him used to a dick in his throat was quickly turning into something deeper, something more fulfilling and admittedly dangerous, but he didn't want to stop this thing happening between them. Not now, not ever.

Brian kissed him back with equal fervor, their tongue's tangling and heads tilting this way and that while the older caressed the younger's ass using both hands now. The second Quinten freed Brian's cock from its confines and had it in his hand, Brian broke away, his lips fat and damp.

"Ah," he panted, his eyes mere slits as he gazed up at his little brother, "n-not so fast, okay?"

"Okay," Quinten mumbled at him and started stroking him off at a sedate pace, his hand much too small to wrap completely around the plumped up shaft but more than enough to get Brian going.

Brian bared his throat to him as his body twitched with sensation, his big hands roving from Quinten's ass to his hips to his thighs and over his chest, never staying for long but desperate to show appreciation. The amount of precum he'd been leaking made it easy for Quinten to set an easy, gliding pace from root to tip, the rhythmic beat of slapping skin hidden beneath the swelling score of the movie's end credits, playing forgotten in the background. Quinten began twisting his wrist on the upstrokes to vary his technique, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight of Brian panting and attempting to thrust his hips into his hand.

"You're so hot like this," Quinten told him truthfully.

"Look in a mirror," Brian immediately responded with a shaky grin.

"I'd rather look at you."

Brian ducked his head, looking adorably bashful. "Flatterer..."

"Oh, you want flattery?" Quinten teased, and at Brian's unconvincing indifferent shrug, swiped the fringe from his brother's eyes. "You don't even have to do anything to catch my eye. You could stand there zoning out and I'd want you. The amount of times I've found myself looking at you and wanting to take you to bed is..."

"Yeah?" Brian whispered, riveted.

"Yeah," Quinten murmured back, his mind hazy with heat.

Brian coaxed him forward for a kiss, that one slower and by all means, chaste. It didn't last long at all, and when Brian pulled back, he lingered close, his breath hot. When he spoke next, their lips lightly brushed together.

"You make me feel the same. I look at you and I want you to be happy. I want..." He paused, leaving Quinten hanging with bated breath. But what Brian really wanted he'd never learn, as his brother directed his attention elsewhere by grabbing the hem of Quinten's sweater and yanking it upward until the fabric caught under his armpits.

Quinten uttered a confused whine which then turned into a pleasured hum as Brian wrapped his lips around his left areola and immediately began sucking on it and flicking the nub with his tongue. Using one hand to keep the fabric in place, Brian's other hand was allowed to palm Quinten's exposed chest and brush his thumb over his neglected nipple, pebbled and tense from their shared arduous feelings. Quinten's back arched at the attention. He wound his arm around Brian's neck to keep him close, the fist he had wrapped around his brother's large cock gripping harder and stroking at an increased pace. The engorged cockhead leaned against his bare stomach above his navel, leaking sticky precum wherever it was wont to smear, and with each fitful jerk it discharged more. The shaft was so slippery now that Quinten found his hand practically flying off of it with his exuberance, but Brian didn't seem to mind and merely dragged the flat of his tongue across his clavicle to treat his other nipple to a flurry of fancy tonguework and hungry sucks.

A door abruptly slammed shut above their heads, instantly stilling the pair like the flip of a switch. Quinten's clouded gaze went to the ceiling, his cock thrumming angrily inside his pants instead of wilting like a sad flower. Brian leaned back to look upwards, too, and they both listened as their father began walking around, coming out of his office and striding into the hallway, where eventually he stepped into another room, more than likely the bathroom. Quinten lowered his eyes and made direct eye contact with his brother. Brian was staring at him with his lips parted, his face red and shiny with sweat, and his eyes... his eyes were blazing.

In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid. But at the moment, it seemed like the most logical thing to do. It certainly felt right as Quinten dropped himself onto the floor with a thud and yanked Brian's pants and underwear clear off of him, his fingers pressing and insistent around his naked hips as he tugged him to the edge of the couch. And Brian didn't help matters by turning into putty into his hands, laying there half sprawled with his legs spread indecently in the air, allowing Quinten to comfortably get between them and guide his pulsing cock inside his gaping mouth. The taste of his brother's cum, heady and distinctly masculine, made him groan loudly, sending vibrations down the shaft as it spread Quinten's mouth to its widest. His jaw was already aching with a familiar soreness but he ignored it, entirely focused on his brother's pleasure and nothing else.

Brian snatched a handful of his hair while the other clawed into the couch's coarse fabric, his hips rocking to be closer. Quinten kept going and going and going until the head hit the back of his throat, and after two straight nights of it, he was able to fully restrain his gag reflex, and at Brian's excited gasp as he swallowed him completely, Quinten felt on top of the world.

"Yes, yes," Brian begged softly, his head tilting back and his hand heavier, forcing Quinten down all the way until his bottom lip molded against his tight balls. He held him there and Quinten didn't budge, his throat incessantly swallowing as if trying to force a tasty morsal into his stomach, saliva that he couldn't control pooling in the pit of his mouth and slipping unnoticed between the seal of his lips wound about Brian's cock, wetting his perinium and further down to his anus.

Quinten stared up at his brother, his hands braced against the bottom of his thighs, holding him steady. In the kitchen, their mother was rifling through her spice rack, the clink of the glass containers against the countertop somewhat gentle. Above them, the toilet flushed, followed by the sound of the faucets working. The tv was dead silent, the screen immobile with an ad for a movie Netflix thought they'd be interested in.

Then Brian tightened the fist he had in Quinten's hair and started humping, the movements gentle at first then growing in intensity until he was all but rearing back and thrusting. Quinten mirrored him by quickly nodding his head, his scalp burning and his eyes watering but focused on encouraging his brother to fuck his throat like it needed to be punished. People would think him crazy if he were to ever admit that it felt so, so good for Brian's hips to slam into his face, the sordid sound of a cum slicked throat gurgling out moans like music to his ears, but what did he care? He could die happy like this.

"God, you take my cock so good," Brian blurted, his voice low but barely constrained. "It can barely fit in your mouth and everything -- fuck," he breathed, looking dazedly into Quinten's eyes, "I'm so fucking lucky."

Quinten preened under the praise and rewarded him by letting his left leg flop bonelessly to the couch to cup his neglected balls. They sat hot and heavy in his small hand, the wrinkly skin pulled tight around the bulging cum sacks. He couldn't wait to drain them dry.

"Mmm, you're so good to me, baby," Brian purred, once more unconsciously referring to Quinten by the B-word. "I lo-"