Good Intentions Ch. 05

His reverie was cut short by Quinten abruptly collapsing onto his forearms, where he then proceeded to bury his face in the crook of his elbow and let out a muffled cry of pleasure. Brian snapped his eyes to him, startled until Quinten freed his mouth long enough to desperately mumble,

"No more, no more, I came, please, no more!"

Brian stopped on a dime, noticing for the first time the way Quinten's body convulsed with aftershocks.

"I- sorry- I didn't know."

"Is... is okay..."

"Should I remove the toy now or wait?"

Quinten took a moment to respond, first taking his time gulping in air as if he had run a mile. In a more even tone of voice, said, "Now. But slowly."

Brian nodded that he understood even though Quinten had reburied his face on top of his folded arms. He reaffirmed his grip on the base of the dildo and began drawing it free. Quinten's breath caught, the intake of air sharp and loud. Brian paused, gave him enough time to compose himself, then continued easing it out until with a suggestive slurping noise that made Brian's ears burn, it was free. He dropped it somewhere on the bed, and while Quinten recovered, he tentatively reached for his asscheeks and gently separated them to have a look at the damage done. As expected the ring was red and swollen and damp with lube, giving it a glistening twinkle, but it didn't look any worse for wear.

"You good?" Brian asked quietly after a long minute had passed.

Quinten, who hadn't so much as flinched when Brian was taking a gander at his anus, nodded. "'m good." He got his hands underneath his torso before pushing up, then gracefully spun about on his knees, surprising Brian with the abruptness of the action. "Your turn."

"Oh, uh, okay," Brian said dumbly as Quinten unbuttoned and unzipped him with efficient tugs and pulls.

There was no coy winking or lip licking or anything ridiculous that Brian had told him to do in what felt like a lifetime ago. His pants were merely opened and his underwear yanked down to allow his poor cock to spring out like it'd been coiled up for years. Despite the simplicity of it, Brian felt an intense desire wash over him as he looked down into his brother's deep green eyes, hooded with satisfaction and peeking up at him through sweaty curls.

"Mh?"

Quinten's head jerked back in surprise when a burst of cum splattered his lips and chin the moment he angled his brother towards his mouth, his eyebrows hiking upwards along with a flick of his eyes. Mortification washed over Brian's entire body like a bucket of ice water; never once in his life had he ever experienced premature ejaculation with a partner, and he fully expected Quinten to laugh at him for losing control. His neck and face plumed scarlet as he stuttered out a disjointed explanation that only trailed off awkwardly when a stripe raced up Quinten's cheek as though in defiance of his shame.

The teen snapped to attention, and merely stuck out his tongue just in time to catch the next offering, his mouth wide open so that Brian could watch as the thick glob flew gracefully inside. Quinten moaned wistfully, his eyes lidding until they shut completely along with his mouth. His fingers curled around Brian's cock in a tight embrace, squeezing and tugging it to coax out more. Brian's embarrassed whining transformed into grunts as squirt after squirt dully smacked Quinten's face wherever it pleased, the excess dripping in thick, sluggish lines, coating him from forehead to jaw to nose and up into his bangs until he looked like he'd been pied in the face. Through it all Quinten kept his eyes closed, his face relaxed as he received his impromptu facial.

When it was over Brian sat there in stunned silence, trembling from the beautiful sight of his brother cleaning his limp cock with gentle passes of his tongue as semen dripped off his face and landed in his bedsheets, his fluffy eyelashes twitching every now and then as it dribbled onto his eyelids. He shakily lifted an arm and trailed a finger through the cream on his brother's cheek, the pad of his finger sinking in half a centimeter. As he pulled his hand away Quinten quickly turned his head and, though blinded, accurately flicked his tongue out to run it up his soiled digit.

Brian wanted to say something, praise him or compliment him or anything positive to expel an ounce of his feelings in the entire matter, but any and all ideas whisked away into nothing when Quinten finished and sat up, looking even more radiant when he suddenly grinned in Brian's general direction.

"You should do that more often."

"Do what?"

Quinten made a circular gesture around his dripping face as if to say 'this'.

Brian bit the inside of his cheek. He'd dated someone once who swore under no circumstance was he to cum on her face or get it in her hair, lest he ruined her make up or perm (which he understood completely: shit's expensive). Quinten, someone who was decidedly not his boyfriend and would never be his boyfriend, giving the okay was making his stomach swoop and plunge. Yet another instance of permission freely given. Had he won the lottery and just didn't know it yet?

"Oh, uh..." He trailed off, not sure if he should just agree to it, and decided to move his attention elsewhere. "Here." Pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his wrists, Brian gently wiped the mess from Quinten's eyes so that he could see.

Once he pulled away, Quinten cautiously opened them, a little squint on his face to test the visibility. The bright green of his irises was visually striking as they looked back at Brian, inexplicably making him blush. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd ever seen them, but... goddamn. It was ridiculously easy how quickly he developed a crush on his little brother.

"Sooo," Quinten drawled, "I'm a mess, and it's all your fault. What're you gonna do about it?"

Having not expected such a question, Brian tilted his head in ponderance. He would've thought that Quinten would slather his hands with it and consume it, like he seemed to like to do on a daily basis now. Why was he giving Brian a say so in it?

"I could... take a picture?"

"Hilarious."

"I'm only half-joking, y'know," Brian murmured, his gaze sweeping slowly over his brother's drenched face. "In fact, can I?"

Quinten looked taken aback, his eyes widening in apparent shock before he conceded with a nod. Brian scrambled off the bed and hastily tucked himself back inside his jeans. He ducked his head out into the hallway to make sure they were still 'alone', and hearing his father's rumbling laugh downstairs, made a beeline straight for his room. There, he quickly located and snatched his phone from where he left it on his desk. He unlocked it with his fingerprint and was immediately greeted by a pair of text messages Garret had sent him a few minutes ago. He stifled a laugh behind his hand, equally exasperated and amused by his best friend's persistence.

Text Received 7:43 p.m.

Its been ages

Did you score?

Text Sent 7:50 p.m.

Wow

Okay

And I'm blocking you in 3...

2...

Text Received 7:51 p.m.

YOU DID DIDN'T YOU

Text Sent 7:51 p.m.

1

And no I did not

His lips stretched into a wider smile as he was then bombarded by an assortment of 'disappointed' GIFs pouring through the screen at an alarming rate. Not being serious about actually blocking him, Brian muted Garret's number, and stepping back out into the hallway, opened the camera app.

Back in Quinten's room, his brother was lying down and sucking idly on his fingers, the cum on his face less runny now that it was cooled. He looked contemplative and relaxed with his right leg outstretched and his left bent at the knee, his naked body pale and pink and sparsely dotted with goose pimples. He barely stirred as Brian sat by his side, his eyes leisurely swiveling towards him and middle finger dragging out from between his lips. Brian snapped a picture.

Quinten pouted up at him. "Gimme a chance to pose or something!"

"Nah, this is good," Brian said, taking another. "Don't worry, you're still cute."

"I want veto rights."

"Not a chance."

Quinten swiped for the phone but Brian pulled it out of reach just in time, trying not to laugh at their childish antics. Not to be deterred, Quinten dug his nails into his sweater and yanked him down, the both of them dissolving into laughter as Brian's phone went flying out of his hand and he fell sideways over Quinten's torso, his face landing in the blankets with a plop.

"You're a dick," Brian wheezed, lifting his head to shoot a half-hearted glare towards him. Despite his words, he couldn't wipe his smile away even if he wanted to.

Quinten toothily grinned at him, looking somewhat menacing while covered in cooling body fluids, his bangs sticking up in awkward angles thanks to the combination of sweat and sticky cum.

"Takes one to-"

Brian groaned, "Don't finish that, for the love of god." He pushed backwards until his feet could touch the floor again and stood up. Smirking, Quinten folded his arms behind his head, looking much too smug for Brian's tastes. "Well now that the photo shoot is ruined, do you want me to get you a washcloth?"

"Normally I'd baulk at wasting a perfectly good meal, but sure. It's absolutely freezing on my face now and kinda smells funny."

"Rude," Brian muttered. "For that maybe I'll just let you suffer."

"That's cool. I'll just wipe it off on your sweater," Quinten quipped back lightly and began sitting up.

Brian gasped and shoved him back down before he could, prompting Quinten to laugh. "Gross! No! Sit tight."

Quinten waved him off, and when Brian returned, blessedly sat still and let him wipe his face clean. The mess in his hair proved harder to remove, but that was nothing a shower couldn't fix. Once done, Brian resumed lying beside him, where they fell into their favorite habit of cuddling after getting each other off, with the occasional kiss and caress of roving hands in a non-sexual manner. It was nice, and though it was still early, Brian knew it was only a matter of time before they fell asleep together like this, just as they'd been doing for the past couple nights. And with tonight likely being the last night...

"I'm proud of you," Brian muttered against Quinten's lips in between taking a breath.

"Of?"

"Everything, I guess. There isn't one thing I'm not proud of, when it concerns you."

Quinten didn't immediately respond, and for all intents and purposes, had stopped breathing. Brian pulled back, mildly concerned by it - which only grew when he saw how wide and shiny his brother's eyes were. He had a moment of panic. Had he said something wrong? Was it too patronizing? Stupid?

"Or, er, not? I don't- um, you're not gonna start crying, are you? I'm sor-"

"Just shut up and kiss me." His voice was strained, shaky. Brian didn't know what else to do but to obey.

Hours later as Quinten sleepily mumbled and curled his fingers around his chest hairs, Brian laid wide awake, his fingertips brushing against the swell of his lips, tasting the salt left behind by long dried tears.

**

Friday - Christmas Eve

"On a scale of one to ten, how ridiculous do I look?"

"One-"

"A one? Thanks, I was nervous that I-"

"-thousand."

For his snark, Quinten glared and shoved Brian away. Brian toyed with the urge to shove him back, but only refrained because he knew that with his current overstuffed wintery gear, Quinten would lose his balance and be on his back flailing around like a helpless turtle. While potentially hilarious, the last thing he wanted was for their mother to yank his ear for bullying his little brother. If only she knew what her precious angel of a son was all bundled up to brave the weather for.

"Ugh, whatever. Won't really matter once he starts unwrapping me like a Christmas gift. It's the inside that counts. If you know what I mean," he chortled, easily finding hilarity in his jokes.

Brian hummed noncommittedly though on the inside he was secretly dying. All day Quinten had been dropping sly hints left and right about what he had in store for that mysterious boyfriend of his. As sad as he was seeing him off, Brian was also quite relieved for the respite. At this point, Quinten's remarks were beginning to feel needlessly cruel and gloating.

Not getting the response he wanted, Quinten heaved out a sigh. "Okaaay, I'm gonna head out." He glanced right then left, and seeing that they were all alone in the entryway, Quinten inched up on tiptoe and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Brian's mouth. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck. I hope it's everything you dreamed of."

Quinten gave him a look as if he was trying to figure out if Brian was being sarcastic or not (which he wasn't), then shrugging, pulled his scarf up over his nose and after one last wave, walked out the front door. Brian stood there in the open doorway letting in a cold draft until Quinten climbed into their mother's hatchback and pulled out of the driveway. Once he couldn't see the taillights anymore, he heaved a sigh and stepped back inside. It was only a quarter after six p.m., leaving him with plenty of time for self-wallowing.

To make matters worse, their parents were currently getting ready to head out on some fancy dinner date, and as a big fat cherry on top, Garret was also busy with his own date for the night, meaning that Brian would be utterly alone for the latter half of Christmas Eve. He, frankly, was not looking forward to it.

With nothing better to do, he headed for his room and sat down at his desk with a dejected sigh. Well. Time to pull up ol' faithful and spend the next however hours mindlessly clicking on his mouse. Maybe he should pick up a hobby. Knitting or writing or learning music. Cooking? Yeah, cooking seemed like fun. His mom was always humming as she cooked and baked. She'd probably be happy, too, if he approached her wanting to learn her recipes. That'd be nice.

A commanding knock on his bedroom door disturbed Brian from his meandering thoughts; at this point, he'd take a burglary if it meant a distraction. He opened it to find his dad standing on the other side, his tall frame outfitted in a tailored navy blue suit. A smile tugged at the corners of Brian's lips as he took a step back and gave a low whistle. He looked good.

"Headed out?" he asked, dragging his eyes up to meet with his father's matching green irises. The older man stared at him, the wrinkles across his forehead making themselves known in the form of an acute frown. Brian sobered, his spine tingling at what he recognized as being a sign that he was about to be lectured. But for what, he had no idea. "Dad?"

"Can we talk?" His tone was brusque, no nonsense.

Brian swallowed then stood back to invite him in. His dad took a single step then brought the arm he had wound behind his back forward. Brian's eyes dropped, and when he saw the sealed box of condoms, his eyebrows shot up. Wow. He'd been given the birds and the bees talk ages ago and was more than capable of buying his own intimate items. Where was this coming from?

"Um, thanks." He took the box then held it awkwardly while his dad continued to stare at him, his eyes stern. "I, uh... I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I haven't been... with anyone-"

"Don't try and take me for an idiot, Brian."

Brian snapped his mouth shut with a click, bewildered and more than a little frightened by the snappy tone. His dad never made it a habit of raising his voice at them, but when it mattered, he could easily strike the fear of god in his two sons. And right now, Brian wished he could shrink in on himself. The worst part, he had no idea what he had done wrong.

Thankfully, his dad didn't leave him guessing for long.

"I know you and Quinten have been having sex- no, let me finish. I'm going to tell you something that every parent can attest to: we always know when you're doing something you shouldn't. I know you guys like to think you're sneaky but you're really not. At first I thought I was imagining things when I saw you guys kissing in front of the tree but then your mother told me she was woken up by moaning the other night and I just knew."

He paused to take a breath, each word of his rant stabbing Brian straight through the heart. Guiltily, he stared down at his dad's shiny black shoes, his throat struggling to swallow the bile threating to splatter all over them. He unconsciously began swaying in place, his skin rapidly cooling and growing clammy in a way that he wasn't used to. Vaguely, he wondered if was about to faint.

"Look..." the older man sighed, going soft in a way that made it so much worse. "I'm aware that you're both adults. I can't control either of you and I'm not about to try, but what I can control is making sure that my boys are being safe. Your mother and I don't want to be involved in any capacity except for that. So, just promise me that you'll use them."

Brian's fingers reflexively clenched around the box, causing the shrink wrap to crinkle. He had no words, absolutely nothing to say to defend himself with. So he did the next best thing: keep his mouth shut and nod. Satisfied by that, his dad offered him a stiff nod back, turned on his heels, and walked away. Brian waited until his steps descended the stairs before gently closing his door, and with no one watching, promptly had a meltdown.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck..."

He dropped the box and dug his nails into his scalp as his breath puffed out from his open mouth rapidly. The walls of his room began to draw in, the edges of his vision graying and his legs rapidly turning to jelly. He could die right now. He wanted to die right now. What should he do? What would he tell Quinten? Should he tell him? His thudding heart abruptly went into overtime at the notion of telling his brother that their parents knew that they were... were...

With his body quaking out of his control, Brian dropped down onto all fours and promptly vomited on the floor. He barely registered the humiliated tears streaking his cheeks, his focus centered on how laborious it was to keep breathing. How did he used to think it was hot if their parents walked in on them? This was awful. He wished Quinten was here, he could really use a hug or a word of confidence or just his mere presence would be enough.

Under his halting gasps, Brian heard the front door snap closed followed by the deadbolt sliding into place. He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the mess he made, its acrid smell hitting him a second later. Recoiling, he nearly heaved up more, but not trusting himself to stand up, rolled over onto his back and shakily wiped at his mouth. His arm flopped down at his side and landed on something that easily crumpled under its heavy weight. Slowly, he turned his head and saw that it was the box of condoms.

Something painful punched him right in the gut again, and yet despite the fear that they knew, the sight of it, strangely enough, calmed him down. Garret knowing and supporting him was one thing, but his mom and dad? Especially his dad? No one was that lucky. There had to be a catch. But what? He hadn't been forbidden from having sex with Quinten, hadn't been told to take it outside of the house. He hadn't been kicked out and told to get his own place. He hadn't even been looked at with a single ounce of disgust, only fatherly disappointment that what, they'd been having unprotected sex?

Bit by bit, Brian caught his breath and regained some semblance of control. His body ached all over with the stress he put it through, his mouth gummy with bile, and really, wasn't that a laugh? He had panicked for no good reason. So their parents knew. He hadn't been screamed at or physically assaulted. With all things considered, they were being encouraged. He laughed again, his voice hoarse, and slid a shaking hand down his face.