My Boy

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. This series is a sequel to my story Brothers. If you haven't read that, this may not make a whole lot of sense. Sorry, it takes a little while to get going.

This story centers around gay incest. Don't like it, don't read it.

*****

One year, eleven months and six days since the last time I saw or heard from Jesse. It wasn't by choice.

I had come back from the sleazy hotel to find Jesse and all of his material possessions gone. He took all of his clothes, all his pictures, everything. All that was left was his furniture, now barren, and his baseball jersey, which he'd forgotten in my equipment bag.

I was ashamed to admit that even now, nearly two years later, I still slept with it. I held it to my face, breathing it in. It didn't smell like him anymore, but it comforted me at least a little. My fingers ran over the numbers, tracing the blue outlines, 32.

We both had the same favourite number, 23. But I joined the team a year earlier, so he reversed it. I wish I'd have let him take my number.

He'd missed a lot in the two years he'd been gone. He'd missed my birthdays, my 21st and 22nd. He missed my graduation, I graduated with a degree in English, go figure. I quit the baseball team after he left, so it was really the only subject I cared enough about to fall back on. I'm sure I'd missed a lot in his life. I'd missed his 19th and 20th birthdays. That was hard to deal with.

I tried messaging him on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram and I even tried his old MySpace page. But all the accounts were deactivated. Whether this was my father's doing, or Jesse's, I had no idea. I tried phoning my father's home and cell. The numbers had changed. I tried mailing him letters to my father's old address, but they were returned to me, unopened. My father had sold the house and gone someplace else. I tried phoning my mother, but she didn't know anything about where my father was. She hadn't been keeping tabs on him since the divorce.

It was like Jesse had managed to just disappear into thin air. The worst part though, was that I didn't know if it was because he wanted to, or my father wanted him to.

Jesse lied. He told me he wasn't going to leave. He told me he trusted me.

I thought he loved me, but maybe he didn't. Maybe he fell out of love. Maybe it was too heavy. I just wished I knew, then at least I could try to move on.

Right now though, there was nothing to move on to. I had a degree in English, what job could I possibly manage to get with that? I couldn't move on sexually. Not only was I completely confused about my sexuality and role in the bedroom, but I couldn't even find anyone attractive. Jesse ruined me.

My phone buzzed loudly from the bedside table, and I leaned over carelessly, picking it up.

"Hello?" I asked dully.

"Hi honey! I'm in the neighbourhood, can I stop by?" It was my mother. I rolled my eyes. My mother and I had a rocky relationship. She used to be super religious when I still had to live with her. But after I moved out, she went on a trip to Mexico, met some guy and now she was pretty... loose, to put it bluntly. I didn't really care, at least she was cheerful now. I wasn't, however, in the mood for a visit.

"I'm tired." I said, lamely. My voice was flat and dull. Whatever, I'm sure that sounded tired enough.

"Oh, c'mon honey. Jason's coming, he wants to meet you!" She chirped. Fuck, there was no way she'd leave me alone if her boyfriend was coming to meet me. She'd pressure me until I gave in just so she wouldn't look bad.

"Fine, fine. But don't expect me to be in a good mood." I grumbled, hanging up the phone.

I slid out of bed, pulling on a pair of old discarded jeans. Did they smell? I didn't care. I pulled off my t-shirt and threw on Jesse's baseball jersey. It was weird and ritualistic, but when I felt like I had hard times ahead, I wore it. It helped me through.

I waited in the living room for my mother and her latest squeeze to arrive. My mother lived about an hour and a half away, so if she was "in the neighbourhood" then clearly she was coming here for big news. Maybe her and Jason were getting married. I hoped so. Then she'd go on a honeymoon and be out of my hair for a few weeks.

They arrived quickly, my mother didn't bother to knock, but rather walked right in. It was fine with me, saved me the trouble of having to get up.

My mom looked good, I could admit it. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in a loose bun, she was wearing a cleavage bearing dark blue dress- something she wouldn't have been caught dead in before her mysterious trip to Mexico, but whatever. Her boyfriend, Jason, was attractive. He looked maybe five years older than my mother, if I were to guess I'd say he was in his mid-fifties. His black hair had grey in it, and he was wearing a suit.

We exchanged the expected pleasantries, shaking hands and introducing ourselves and discussing the weather. I offered them each a cup of coffee, which they both turned down. I got myself a glass of water. When all that bullshit was over, Jason and Mom took a seat on the couch opposite me, and Mom looked at me with excitement in her green eyes.

"So, what's going on? It has to be something big, or else you would've just phoned." I said, my fingers slowly stroked the sides of my glass, making tracks in the condensation.

"Okay, okay, you caught us," My mother said, laughing cheerfully. "Your father told me not to tell you until next week, but I just couldn't wait, because I knew you'd be so excited,"

My interest piqued. She'd been in contact with my father. She had his number at the very least. I grinned, my heart beginning to beat quickly, my breath rapidly becoming ragged.

"Jesse's getting married!"

My hand clenched around the glass and it shattered, breaking off into pieces in my palm, water spreading all over my jeans.

"Oh! Oh, dear! I didn't think you'd be that excited." My mother said. I stared at her. My hand should hurt, there were pieces of glass sticking out of it, but my brain wasn't registering it. It was taking everything I had to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Jason moved quickly, running into the bathroom and grabbing a towel and the first aid kit. He took my hand in his, palm up.

"Just have to remove these glass shards..." He mumbled awkwardly, fishing in the kit for a pair of tweezers. I was still staring at my mother, paying him no notice.

"What do you mean, he's getting married? When?" I asked, my voice quiet and wavering. There was a sharp stinging in my hand but I ignored it.

"Well, he's getting married next week. His rehearsal dinner's tomorrow night though, because his bride wanted to make sure everything was perfect. You know, they'd have enough time to fix everything if something went wrong." She babbled, completely oblivious to the fact that my heart had shattered just like the glass I'd been holding. She continued.

"Your father didn't want me to tell you, said that you'd want to take over the planning or something, but I told him, 'no, no, no' that you'd behave yourself. Wouldn't get to be too much of a perfectionist, you know you can be sometimes- Jason, honey, you have to clean the wound before you put the bandage on."

I stared at her, shocked.

"The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night? Are you going?" I asked quietly. Jason was still fumbling with the bandages like a fucking idiot. I continued to ignore him.

"Yes, of course, dear. That's why we're here. I thought that you, being his brother, should get to come. We could drive you down with us tonight." My mother smiled at me. Then she got some dreamy look in her eye. "I might finally get grandchildren."

Jason looked at her startled.

"You're too young to talk like that." He said, winking at her. My hand was still bleeding, the useless prick hadn't managed to even get all the glass out.

"Oh, stop it you!" My mother retorted, blushing.

"Where do they live, Jesse and Dad?"

"It's a five hour drive north of here." My mother said, turning her attention back to me. "Do you want to come with us?"

"Yeah. But I'll follow you guys down, and take the truck. It'll be good to have two vehicles." I mumbled.

"Oh perfect! This is going to be wonderful!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands.

This is going to be terrible.

***

We got to Jesse's city around midnight. I decided to stay in a different hotel from my mother and her lover. This was partly because I didn't want her bothering me all the time, and partly because Room 23 wasn't available. I asked my mother not to mention to anyone that I was in town, claiming that I wanted to surprise Jesse. Well, that was partly true.

I dropped my small travelling bag down on the floor of my hotel room, before sinking onto the bed. My arm dangled lazily off of the mattress and I reached down into the bag, carelessly unzipping it. Jesse's jersey was folded neatly on top, my fingers locked around the soft fabric and I pulled it up, onto me.

I had Jesse's address tucked away in my bag. I'd go visit him tomorrow, before the dinner. Until then, I had to get through a few hours of waiting. A few hours of this god-awful anticipation, this fear.

I curled into a ball on the comforter, clinging to Jesse's baseball jersey.

My brother is getting married in less than two weeks.

I began to sob.

**

I pulled up to Jesse's house at around three in the afternoon. All the lights were off, the house seemed... dead. Jesse was probably at school, and our father was probably at work.

I parked on the side of the road, a few doors down from Jesse's house. If our father came home before Jess, I didn't want him to see my truck.

The street was empty. It was a suburban neighbourhood, I assumed everyone who lived here was either at school or at work. The desertedness worked well for me.

I walked up to the front door. It was locked, obviously. Knowing Jess and how forgetful he is, there'd be a key somewhere around here, in case he forgot his at school. I kicked up the door mat, no key. There was a small flower pot with a few dead tulips in it. I picked it up, and there, to my joy, was a house key.

I know that it's weird and creepy to break into your ex-lover's house, but my ex-lover is my brother, and I should be allowed into his house, shouldn't I?

I let myself in, putting the key back under the flower pot and locking the door behind me.

The house looked so... fake. Like it had come right out of a magazine. I hated it. It wasn't Jesse at all, but it sure as hell suited my father. I headed upstairs, searching for Jesse's bedroom.

It didn't take me long to find it. I opened the door slowly, holding my breath.

His room was just like how it was when Jesse lived with me. It was blue, with a double bed in the center. He had a desk, cluttered with papers and textbooks, one of which, I noted with interest, was his Dutch language book. Dad must've let him keep taking the course. His bed was unmade, but he had no dirty clothes on the floor.

It smelt like him. I breathed it in deeply, a sort of calm washing over me. It smelt like him and only him, there were no feminine perfumes lingering in the air.

I relaxed onto the bed, staring up at the white popcorn ceiling.

"Jess," I murmured, breathing deeply, resting my nose against his pillow. My eyes travelled to the bedside table, where his alarm clock was. He also had a book sitting upright, it looked like an agenda. I grabbed it, flipping it open to the bookmarked page, easily deciphering his scrawl.

He had class today. His last one was mathematics, and that one was at 2:30, so he should be getting home soon. The rehearsal dinner was at 5:30. I sat up on the bed, placing the book carefully back onto the table.

I opened the first drawer. It was wrong of me to go through his personal things. I knew it, but I did it anyway.

There was a picture frame in his bedside table, but it was facing down. I pulled it out of the drawer anxiously. I shouldn't look. But I did.

The man in the picture was Jesse, he looked the same as he always had. His shaggy blonde hair fell onto his forehead, his green eyes were lively with excitement. But beside him was a woman, a tall, slender woman with red hair. She was beautiful. She was kissing Jesse on the cheek.

I shoved the frame back into the drawer, my eyes welling up. I would not cry. Not again.

I kept searching the drawer, trying to find something, anything that showed that Jesse still remembered me, that he still kept a piece of me with him. What I found instead was a few pencils, a notebook (I didn't read it) and finally, some condoms and a small bottle of lube.

He'd moved on.

I relaxed back onto the bed, slowly entering a state of apathy. I couldn't feel. I was just completely numb. But I didn't cry.

So this was it. Jesse had moved on. I should go.

I heard the door to the house open and close loudly, and I sat up, petrified. Oh God, someone was home. Was it Dad, or was it Jesse? At this point I didn't want either of them to see me.

I heard someone coming up the stairs, but I was too terrified to move. If our father caught me here, in Jesse's room, oh God, I couldn't even think about it. If Jesse caught me... I don't think I could handle him shutting me out again.

Jesse opened his bedroom door. And I sat there, immobile on his bed, staring at him dumbly, unable to speak.

He jumped back startled, dropping his textbooks and binders on the floor.

"Michael." He breathed quietly. My heart pounded agonizingly in my chest, as I looked at him. He looked different. His skin was still pale, he was still only slightly muscular. His hair, it was his hair that was different. It was cut short, hardly even long enough to run your fingers through.

"Jesse." I said softly, swallowing. Still, I felt numb.

"What are you doing here?" He spoke so quietly it was nearly impossible to hear him. He looked sad, so sad, and maybe a little afraid.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. What could I say? How could I explain this?

"Congratulations on your engagement." I said finally. He didn't say anything. Just looked at me, still standing in the doorway to his bedroom. I bit my lip.

"I'll go now." I said, standing.

"Don't go!" He shouted. I froze. He looked down at the ground and exhaled shakily, looking up at me. There were tears in his eyes, his face was twisted in disparity.

"Don't go, Michael." He spoke softly again, the words barely escaping his lips. Jesse looked down at the ground again, sucking in deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

"I won't go, Jesse." I murmured, taking a few slow steps towards him. We were close enough now that I could feel the warmth of his body. I moved my hand to his face, brushing his cheek with my hand, gauging his reaction. He closed his eyes, his hand moved to mine and he clasped it in his.

The numbness inside of me started to recede and I was instead filled with desire, terrible desire. I licked my lips as Jesse calmed, his warm hand resting on mine. God, I wanted him, needed him. It had been nearly two years since the last time we'd been together.

"I missed you." He said softly, his eyes still closed.

And I couldn't think straight, thoughts were rushing in and out of my head at incredible speeds and I couldn't focus and I knew that he was getting married but I couldn't help myself, and his skin was so warm and he smelt so familiar and I missed him so much and nothing made sense anymore and I knew that he was sleeping with his fiancée but I didn't care, because suddenly, I was kissing him.

My lips were pressed firmly against his, my free hand snaked around his head and I held him to me. Jesse groaned, trying to push my face away from his, but I was still stronger than him, and I didn't let him pull away.

My lips moved aggressively against his warm mouth, trying to force a reaction from his lips. He fought against me, thrashing his body, his hands pushing at my chest, but I didn't let up, couldn't let up. I needed my brother.

My tongue forced its way past his lips, ravaging his mouth. Slowly his lips started reciprocating mine, and it felt so sudden that I realized that my brother was no longer fighting against me.

He was clawing at my shirt, desperately pulling me closer to him. His lips parted more widely, our tongues dancing together sinfully. Jesse was moaning against me, his hot breath flooding my mouth as we kissed. I hadn't felt so alive in years.

My lips trailed down his neck, and he tilted his head back, his hands twisting in my hair, forcing me to continue my assault. I bit and sucked and kissed at his neck, trying to taste as much of him as I could, to give him as much as I could.

"Mike, we can't do this again." He said desperately. But even as he said it, he was rubbing his hips against mine, begging me silently to continue.

"You want this, don't you Jesse?"

Jesse didn't answer, but instead pulled my face up to meet his once more. We kissed passionately, desperately. Jess began walking forward, leading me to his bed. His hands gripped at my shirt, as he hurriedly tried to pull it off of me. I gripped the edges of it, and pulled it off quickly over my head, throwing it to the floor.

My little brother's hands moved to my chest, exploring it greedily. His fingers curled in the hair, gently scratching the skin beneath it. I tore at his shirt, ripping it off him easily, the buttons popping off and clicking against the floor as they fell. I ran my hands over his bare shoulders, feeling the warm muscles beneath his skin.

We fell to his bed, tangling together against the blankets. We were both completely unreserved, completely primal. He needed me as I needed him. Everything happened quickly.

It was a blur, both of us ripping and tearing at each other's pants, at our own pants, tugging off our boxers and socks until we were both left completely naked, our hard members pressed against one another.

I was on top of Jesse, kissing his neck while he writhed against the bed, grinding his hips against mine. His hands were tangled in my hair, his legs wrapped around my hips.

I slowed my movements, trying to stop our rushed pace. It had been so long, I wanted to explore every inch of his beautiful body, memorize him all over again. I wanted to stretch him slowly, tease him, bring him to the brink of his orgasm and bring him back down, and do it all over again until neither of us could take any more. I wanted to make love to him.

I pecked his neck a few more times, before kissing him again. This time, it was unrushed, controlled. Jesse groaned, fighting against my lips, trying to quicken our pace, but I remained in control, kissing him lovingly.

"Mike, we don't have time." Jesse urged, his hands twisting in my hair.

"What time does Dad get home?" I responded, kissing his cheek. He usually didn't get home until late, we had a lot of time.

"I have to be at dinner at 5:30." Jesse said, panicked, rubbing his hips against mine, silently begging me to go faster. I froze, looking down at him. He was still going to go through with it?

"You don't have to go Jess. I love you, come away with me." I murmured against his skin, kissing his cheek once more. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him to me.

"Don't start that again, Mike." He said quietly.

"You wouldn't want to?" I asked, looking down into his perfect green eyes.

"You know my answer." He said it gently, but it still hurt. My heart thumped painfully against my ribcage, and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. He'd rejected me again.

I stared, blinking down at him. Instead of saying anything though, he pulled my face down to his once more and kissed me. The kiss was urgent, pleading. Him begging me not to go.