Hell for This

Author's Note: This is a short, fictional piece featuring characters based purely in my imagination. If you're in the mood for a quick yet sweet read, you're in the right place.

I showed up to our brunch spot, Atrium, perfectly dressed and done up. It was my attempt at feeling in control of at least some aspect of my exterior. Inside, I was a complete mess. But you'd never know it as I tapped my fresh manicure on the glossy tabletop. The front layers of my blow out curtained my face as I ducked my head in shame at my response to the sight of my brother. My incredibly sexy brother. You're probably going to hell, I reminded myself.

At 34, Joel is the older of the two of us by 11 months. He's well groomed and confident, a commanding presence with a disarming candor about him. He made his way through the dining area where the skylights filtered golden sunbeams onto his shoulders and his neatly trimmed head. It was impossible not to acutely observe his physical attributes as he approached me. In jeans and a fitted sweater, he was all muscled limbs, exuding strength without being bulky. I managed to will away the familiar yet humiliating twinges below my waist. Joel squinted at the flustered look on my face as he greeted me.

"Is that a yes, Em?" He said, just loudly enough to break through my stupor. I lifted my gaze from his rosy lips to the dense lashes framing his eyes. Dear god, he was more dashing than ever.

"Sorry, yes to what?"

"Espresso for two. Unless a martini sounds better," he said, winking.

I nearly fell out of my chair. We'd been dancing around the topic of "martinis" ever since his return to the States. The last time we partook was before his 2 year stint in the Zurich offices of his firm. Three drinks in and our customary teasing turned into flirtation then into outright foreplay. We stumbled into my bed where his mouth and tongue had delivered the best orgasm I'd ever had. The dual intoxication from the gin and the intense pleasure from Joel created an other worldly elixir. I savored that emotional peak until he pushed me even higher when he rested his soft head on my collarbone. He slept in my arms after that and I never could have anticipated the sweetness of it, to have my big brother seek the sanctuary of my touch for hours on end.

Early the next morning, I'd gladly returned the oral favor to a cacophony of his swearing, begging and hair pulling until he exploded in my mouth. I swallowed every drop of the evidence of his pleasure.

"We probably shouldn't do this again." Joel said first.

"Probably not..." My voice trailed off, reluctant.

He'd kissed my forehead, showered, and then left. It was the last I'd been alone with him before he moved abroad. We hadn't talked about what happened since that morning, but that didn't mean I could forget the way it felt to have the taste of him fresh on my lips.

"So, what'll it be, Em?" Joel prompted me again.

Oh right, the drinks.

"I already ordered espresso," I croaked as I met and then promptly avoided his gaze.

"Coming right up!" A peppy barista appeared, interrupting the fraught moment. I startled so badly that I banged my knee on the underside of the table. Joel studied me with curiosity as Gisele, according to her name tag, deposited our cortados with flair and flurry. I concentrated on the gleaming ceramic saucers as I recomposed myself. But the damn twinges kept on coming. You're definitely going to hell! My inner voice piped up again. At least make it worth it.

The barista retreated and I took a long sip to put off having to react to my brother's thinly veiled reference. In the meantime, he slid his chair around the table to be closer to mine. He was close enough that I could inhale his familiar scent of cedar and cloves. My cheeks burned in response to how acutely I sensed him. His prolonged scrutiny was thrilling, if a bit disconcerting. He put his hand on my knee, the one I'd smacked against the table, and the heat of his touch made me wish he'd put his hands all over me. How could he stand it? I couldn't take it any more.

"I want to go home," I placed my cortado back on its saucer and looked right at my brother. He appeared stricken, as though I'd slapped him.

"Because of what I said about the martini? Em, I'm sorry," he leaned in, speaking softly but urgently, "I'm an idiot for saying that, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Please stay? I'll...buy you a sober brunch."

"You think you can buy me off? With a meal?"

"No, Em. I..."

"Was it really a joke?"

Joel blinked and stared silently.

I reached for my cortado and reclined leisurely in my seat, returning his cool stare over the rim of the tiny mug.

Eventually, he answered.

"Do you want it to be?"

The laugh that erupted from my throat was so spontaneous that it surprised even me. There we were, over 2 years later and the moment of truth had arrived. I couldn't contain my relief. As My laughter piped down, Joel's hand returned to my knee, an earnest gesture that conveyed his sincerity. He wanted an honest answer and I was more than prepared to give him one. I took care that my voice didn't quiver as I repeated myself.

"I want to go home," I insisted, "With you."

***

Neither of us said a word as Joel steered his SUV with his left hand. He used his other hand to hold mine and bring it to his lips. It wasn't unheard of for him to make such gestures. In years past, I wouldn't have read into it. But that day, it took on new meaning as an unspoken bid for my trust. I understood that he wouldn't be careless with my feelings.

Inside his condo we undressed quickly and by an unspoken accord, we arranged ourselves into the position I'd fantasized about the most. Joel, at the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor and me, legs folded on either side of his body. We fit together seamlessly.

"I want you to know something," he said as he ran his hands over my bare skin. I looked at him and melted at the tenderness in his gaze as he held my face.

"You're not a plaything to me. I am only ok as long as you're ok. Ok?"

"I'm ok," I told him.

"I know. You tell me if that changes."

I nodded yes.

"You hear me?" He slightly raised his voice.

"I've always been ok," I said quietly, "Except for when you were gone."

"I missed you too."

He smiled.

Joel's face mimicked the startled lust apparent in my own as he paced my descent onto his cock. He gripped my waist to guide me through the unbearable euphoria of sinking down on him. I shut my eyes through the sweet agony of his single, forcible thrust upward.

With my body and my heart thoroughly breached, I found myself crushed against the wall of his chest with his strong arms encircling me. My whispered pleas for more and his sheer strength combined to produce a choreography of rapture.

I clung to him with every scrap of strength I could muster, but it didn't matter. I could have let go because he didn't need my help to carry on fucking me, taking me apart. He rocked me from below almost effortlessly, keeping me close and privy to the rough sounds of his pleasure. My temperature kept rising and so did my desperation as I neared the cliff of release. Joel knew he'd pushed me very close to that blessed edge. He knew as well as I did that it would shear off without further warning or any care about how steep the fall might be.

All the same, he kept surrounding me, binding me more tightly to him, granting me the luxury of letting go, until one final drive upward set me free.

I arched away from Joel's body and he loosened his hold on me just enough to let me fly, not enough to let me fall.

"That's my girl," he grumbled as my contractions intensified around his cock. The shape of my pleasure was dynamic, almost a living thing, and it coursed through me on overpowering waves of rapture. I leaned on Joel's shoulder so I could feel something solid, his mass and warmth. My breath condensed against his sweaty skin and it assured me of the rightness of it all, of my brother and me together this way. I couldn't help but love him like this.

"You were so quiet." He pushed sweaty strands of my hair from my eyes and kissed me. I nodded, bereft of words as I took in his familiar, handsome face. I was still impaled on his firm cock as he brushed his thumb over my lips and smiled. The affection in that small gesture and the softness in his gaze came right on the heels of his ferocity moments before. The contrast thrilled and wrenched me. Hell will be more than worth it, I thought privately, Not that I believe in it anyway.