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MEMORY OF ALEX [ part 6 ] “How you boys like your burgers?” The heady aroma of seared meat mixed with the smoke hanging low in the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. Barbecues were an unfamiliar treat, something that was part of our other life in another time. We didn’t own a barbecue down here. I missed the taste of food cooked and eaten outdoors, the heightened flavor from the charcoal, the simple pleasure of licking watermelon juice from your fingers in the dimming twilight. A week ago, Mr. Parsons came to our house to pick up the clothes he lent us after our confrontation with Jimmy. Even though Mr. Parsons said we didn’t have to, Alex washed and folded the clothes we borrowed to make sure that we returned them the way we found them. He invited us to come to his house for a fourth of July barbecue complete with fireworks. I was worried that Dad wouldn’t want to go, because it was one of the few days he was going to get off from working, and after all it was the fourth of July, but he thought it was a great idea. He still hadn’t met Mr. Parsons, and he wanted to thank him in person for being so nice to us. I sat cross-legged on the grass, my plate ready to receive the hamburger as soon as it was done, the bun already coated in ketchup and mayonnaise the way I liked it, a generous scoop of potato salad covering the other side. The grass here in Florida wasn’t the same as I remembered. Back home, the grass was soft, a thick mat of narrow blades that did little more than tickle your bare leg. Here, it was broad, coarse, scratching anything it touched. Still, it was better than our house, where the weeds grew waist high because we didn’t even have a lawn mower to take care of them. Alex was on the far side of the lawn, sitting by himself at a picnic table, keeping himself busy by peeling the red paint away from the spots where it had bubbled and cracked. I had no interest in sitting with him, and he preferred to be by himself most of the time these days anyway. Besides, from here I was in the best position to know when the hamburgers were finished, to smell the tart aroma of beer, and to listen to the conversation between Mr. Parsons and my father. “Where is everyone? I thought you’d have family teeming all over the place.” “Naw,” Mr. Parsons said. “They all out doin other things.” There was a funny sound in his voice. “Including your son?” “I reckon he’s running about with some of them no good friends of his. Probably exploding mailboxes or getting into some mischief. That boy’ll be lucky to still be out of prison by the time he’s sixteen.” Mr. Parsons spat on the ground and took another swig of beer. “Gets it from his momma’s side, he does. They was all no good, right down to the core.” My father nodded and shrugged. “It ain’t for a lack of tryin, neither. I done my best to discipline that boy when he needed it, but nothin I do seems to work. He just runs off after every lickin like it didn’t mean a damn thing to him, pardon my French. Now you got yourselves a couple of good, solid boys there.” He looked over at me, and I smiled. “You should be proud.” “I am very proud of my boys,” my father said approvingly. “I couldn’t be more proud of them than I have been over the last few months.” I blinked and smiled. “They’ve really risen to the times and held things together.” “You must’ve given them a fair number of lickins when they was smaller for them to turn out like they did.” My father coughed. “Actually, I never believed in disciplining the boys physically.” Mr. Parsons narrowed his eyes. “You don’t say.” “I never needed to. They never got themselves into any real trouble, and when they needed limits set I was always consistent and reacted with appropriate consequences.” Mr. Parsons shrugged. “My daddy whaled the tar outta me every time I crossed the line, and I turned out fine.” “Different things work for different people, I suppose,” my father commented, finishing his beer and going to get another one. He winked at me on the way, and I smiled. The way he whipped his son was the only thing that bothered me about Mr. Parsons. I liked everything else about him, his generosity, his easy-going nature. I felt comfortable around him, almost like I could trust him, but I’d remember the sounds we overheard, the crack of the belt and Jimmy screaming and crying. It kept me just a little wary around him. Alex picked away at the paint, oblivious. I glared at him. He’s probably doing that just to get in trouble with Mr. Parsons. He’s probably hoping that if he does, Mr. Parsons will beat him too. Alex looked over at me, his shoulders slumping, his eyes downcast, another one of his attempts to apologize. I glared angrily at him and looked away. I wasn’t interested. Mr. Parsons motioned to me, a thick cheeseburger perched on the end of his metal spatula. I jumped to my feet, holding my plate out so that he could place it on the bun, then returning to my place in the grass to enjoy my prize. It had to be the best cheeseburger I’d ever tasted, moist and red, the juice dripping down my chin as I struggled to get my mouth around it. “Alex, your burger’s ready too, come n get it.” Alex shook his head. “I’m not really hungry,” he mumbled. My father walked back over to Mr. Parsons with a plate, taking the hamburger and bringing it over to Alex. I watched him sit down next to my brother, his arm around his shoulder, talking softly in his ear. Alex pushed him away, and when my father persisted, he slid off the picnic table and walked briskly out of the yard into the field beyond. Go, I thought. Just keep going. Dad sighed, picking up the plate and walking over to me. “Can I join you?” he asked. “Sure,” I said, taking another huge mouthful. I’d already inhaled half of it, and was intending not to stop until I’d polished at least three of them. He sat down cross-legged as well, his plate in his lap. “How’s the burger?” “Good,” I said, pieces of meat and bun flying from my mouth as I shoved in another bite. “So how are things going? I hardly ever seem to get to talk to you boys anymore. You’re asleep when I get home and usually off somewhere when I leave.” I shrugged. “It’s ok, I guess.” He leaned inward. “How about the other thing?” He didn’t need to be any more specific. “We don’t do that anymore,” I said abruptly. “I see,” he said. “Did something happen?” “No, we just don’t want to anymore,” I lied. “Is that why Alex is being so moody today?” “I don’t know why he’s like that,” I said in an exasperated tone. “Why don’t you go talk to him about it instead of me?” My father finally took the hint, picking up his plate and brushing off the ants before getting back up to join Mr. Parsons at the picnic table. I finished my hamburger and went to get another one from the table, taking it without a word, not as interested in the sports related conversation between Dad and Mr. Parsons. Alex gradually drifted back into the yard, slinking around in a corner, kicking at a rock. He looked over at me, recoiling when I flashed him another look of quiet rage, finally sitting at the other end of the picnic table. Even though I was stuffed after two of the monster burgers, I went to get my third. Dad had finally coaxed Alex into getting a plate, but from the look of it he did little more than push it around on the plate. Serves you right, I thought. I hope you’re miserable. As hard as I tried to cling on to my anger, I could feel it cracking apart slowly as I sat back down, watching Alex push his plate away and place his head on the table. The other feeling started coming back, the one that I had woken up from in near dawn on that day a week and a half ago. That night, I sat bolt upright in the bed, the sound of my own shout still echoing in my ears from the dream that instantly slipped away from me. I had looked over desperately towards Alex’s bed, wanting him to comfort me, but his bed lay empty and unused because he was still tied to the table in the kitchen where I had left him. I ran from the bedroom into the kitchen, flipping on the light so that I could see. What I saw made my heart leap into my throat. Alex’s legs, his back, and his butt were all covered with vicious bruises. My eyes went wide, my stomach sinking. He lifted his head slowly as he realized I was in the room, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. I knew that he hadn’t slept for even a minute, and that he’d spent most of the time crying. He moaned into the gag, quiet and hoarse. Tears started to form in my eyes as I stood there, unable to move. He moaned louder, pulling with exhausted muscles on the cords that bound him, struggling feebly in his restraints. The thought screamed in my head. I did this to him. After what felt like an hour, I sprang into action. Not bothering to even try to pick apart the knots that held him fast, I grabbed a kitchen knife and sliced the ropes in two, running around the table until his limbs had all been released. He strained to move, fresh tears starting to run down his face as he timidly stretched his exhausted muscles. I yanked on the gag to get it loose, pulling the ball from his mouth, and reaching under him to get the clamps off his chest. He didn’t make a sound when I pried them off, scaring me even more. “Are you ok?” I asked in a shaky voice. He tried to stand up, then grabbed the table as his legs buckled beneath him, collapsing onto the floor. I bent down to try and help him, crying myself now. “Please Alex, please be ok.” He shook his head, but I helped him to his feet and got him to stagger into the bedroom, letting him collapse on his bed. I looked at him lying on his stomach, those horrible bruises, panic beginning to seize me. “I wanna call Daddy,” I said, tears running down my face. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t?” I screamed. “I think you need to go to a doctor!” “No doctors,” he whispered. “I’m ok.” “You’re not ok! You’re all covered with black and blue spots and some of them look like they’re even bleeding and…and…” I collapsed in tears, holding my knees to my chest and rocking back and forth. “Why did you make me do this to you?” I screamed. “It’s ok,” he said, reassuringly, rolling over on his side. “It’s not really bad, I just got dizzy.” I could see the grimace on his face, I knew he was lying. It made me cry even harder. As much as I wanted to call my father, to have him come home and feel his arms around me telling me that everything was ok, I just couldn’t call without Alex’s approval, and under no circumstances did he want me to bother Dad. He told me that Dad needed to work and he could get fired if he had to run home to look after us. Besides, he didn’t want Dad to know what we had done. I kept watch over him long into the day. Images kept drifting through my head, images of an after school show I had watched one day in which a boy makes friends with a kid in a hospital who dies, except that it was Alex lying in the hospital bed, pale and weak, slowly dying from his injuries. Every time he drifted off to sleep, I shook him back awake, terrified that he would never open his eyes again. He never got mad at me, trying to reassure me each time that he wasn’t going to die, telling me how he felt better because I was so worried about him. Even so, every time his eyes fluttered shut I brought him back. It took a few days for Alex to get back to normal. We made sure he was tucked into bed whenever Dad was around, pretending to be asleep when he left during the day so that we wouldn’t have to explain. His bruises looked better the next day, and bit by bit I became convinced that Alex wasn’t on the verge of death. Just a few days ago, with most of the marks having faded and with Alex no longer wincing whenever he sat down, we were watching television, eating peanut butter and jelly for dinner. We didn’t bother making sandwiches, just passing the jars back and forth and eating directing from them with spoons. “What do you want to do after dinner?” he asked me. “Let’s play poker again, that was fun.” “Ok.” He took a huge spoonful of jam. “What are we gonna play for?” “We could just use peanuts like last time,” I suggested, my eyes glued to the television. “I had a different idea,” he said quietly. I turned over and looked at him. The tone of his voice, the look on his face, I knew exactly what he had in mind, even if the details were unclear. For some reason, I became infuriated. “No,” I muttered. “I’m not doing anything like that.” “I didn’t say…” “I know what you were going to say!” My hands balled into fists. “I’m not doing that stuff anymore.” He looked stunned. “Why not?” “Why not?” I grew even angrier. “Because!” It seemed so obvious to me, I couldn’t understand why he still had a confused look on his face. “Look what happened the last time!” “We don’t have to do it like that,” he said, his voice soothing. “There’s other things we could do.” “I don’t care about other things!” I stood up, my clenched at my sides. “I’m not tying you up, I’m not hitting you, I’m not doing any of that stuff anymore, and stop making me do it to you!” He looked down at the floor. “I thought you did it because you wanted to.” I grabbed his t-shirt in my hands, shaking him back and forth, not caring that he was bigger and stronger and could easily overpower me. I screamed hysterically. “No! I never wanted to! You made me do it! Every time! I hate you!” He didn’t resist at all, allowing me to shake him back and forth until I let him go, taking a couple of steps backward before running for the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I knew that everything I had just said was a lie. I knew what I had felt that time when I was hitting him. The sound of when the belt cracked against his flesh, so crisp and satisfying. Watching him thrash, hearing the beautiful music of his screams. Seeing the desperate look in his tear filled eyes, his lips wrapped around the black rubber of the gag. But even more, the feeling of power that coursed through my veins as I ordered him around, forced him to strip, made him bend to my will. And the other feeling, the one I had never felt before, down below that powered my arm for blow after blow. I just needed everything I said to him to be the truth. I needed him to be responsible, needed to have someone else to blame. Anything to convince me that I wasn’t the monster I knew I was. Alex stayed away from me for the most part for the last few days. We ate our meals separately, and he spent most of his time out of the house in some unknown location. He slept on the couch, not wanting to bother me. Every now and then, we crossed paths, his eyes meeting mine. I wanted to apologize to him, to tell him that I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t hate him, I loved him as much as he loved me. I could see the apology written over his face every time as well, but all I could do was to return an icy stare, a look of hostility so overwhelming that he had no choice but to slink away. “Alex,” I heard my father say. I looked up, Alex still sitting with his head on the table. “Go help Mr. Parsons cut up the watermelon.” “I’ll do it, Dad,” I volunteered, standing up. “This will be Alex’s job,” he said firmly. “You’ll help with the fireworks later, understand?” I smiled. “I can help with the fireworks?” He nodded. Alex rose to his feet, shoulders sagged, following Mr. Parsons into the house. Once they were inside, my father came over to me, motioning for me to follow him, sitting down on a large wooden swing in one corner of the yard. I sat all the way to one side. “Jake, I need to know what’s going on,” he said. “Something’s wrong and I’m getting more and more worried about Alex. Did you two have some kind of fight?” I pulled my feet onto the swing, getting into my favorite position when I was feeling scared and lonely, pressing my knees against my chest. Slowly, I nodded. “What happened?” I couldn’t speak, and he lowered his voice. “Does this have anything to do with the other thing?” I nodded again. He shook his head, sliding over closer to me so that he could put his arm around my shoulder. “I should have stopped it, I shouldn’t have let you get involved in this. You’re too young, and Alex…I suppose he’s just pushed you too far, asked you to do things that you’re not ready to do. I’m really sorry.” “Why does Alex want to get hurt so much?” I whispered. He sighed. “It’s just the way he is.” He rubbed my back. “I suppose there are a lot of reasons, but you want to know something? I don’t think finding the reasons why really matters very much. Better to spend your time understanding what you are then to always be obsessed with the reasons.” I screwed up every ounce of my courage. “Was Jeremy the same way?” I could feel my father grow tense, his arm stiff, his fingers no longer gently caressing my shoulder but painfully digging into my flesh. “Why are you asking that?” He sounded angry, or maybe frightened. “I just thought…” I stammered. “I thought that if Jeremy was like that…” He relaxed a little. “I don’t know,” he said, his eyes fixed at a point off in the distance. “I don’t really know if Jeremy was like that or not. I…” His face became unreadable. “Are you worried that if Jeremy and Alex are like that, that you will be too?” I took a deep breath and shook my head. I know I wasn’t like that. I was something much worse. “I guess I should let you in on a little secret, if you can promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul.” I looked up at him, suddenly seized by curiosity. He leaned down, whispering in my ear. “I’m like that too.” I started back, shocked. “You are?” He nodded. “Ever since I was Alex’s age. So I guess that maybe you could be right. Maybe Jeremy was the same, but we can’t know that anymore. Maybe you’ll turn out to the same as well. But I don’t want you telling him, he’s upset enough about all this as it is. Do you want to know something else? I never had a brother that was willing to help me out with these kind of things. I’m more than a little jealous. I don’t think Alex knows how lucky he is to have a brother like you.” I stared at him, wanting to pour it all out, how I wasn’t like that at all, how I was just some kind of sick freak. I couldn’t find the words. He gripped my knee. “I’m sick of using all these euphemisms. There’s a word for all this. It’s called masochist. Someone who likes being hurt.” I stared off in the other direction. “Is it normal to be like that?” “I don’t know if it’s entirely normal,” he said, “but at the same time there are a lot of people who are masochistic.” I closed my eyes, trying to disconnect from myself so that I could ask the question burning in my mind. “Then...if there are people who like to get hurt, are there people…” I couldn’t finish it. “Are there people who like to hurt people?” he finished it for me. I stared off into space. “Of course there are. There’s a word for people like that, it’s called sadist.” Sadist. There’s a word just for what I am. “Isn’t it…isn’t it wrong….” He looked at me curiously. “No, it’s not wrong to hurt people that want to be hurt. It would be a very lonely world if there were masochists without sadists, don’t you think? It’s only wrong when a person hurts someone that doesn’t want to be hurt. It’s kind of like having two matching pieces of a puzzle. You just have to find the two right people that match up, one person to do the hurting, one person who likes to be hurt. How could finding two people that need each other be wrong?” My head was swimming. I knew with every fiber of my being that there was never a right time or a right way for someone to hurt someone else. People who did that went to jail, went to hell, went to wherever they put bad people to keep them away from the good ones. I could hear what he said, understand every word, but how could I believe any of it? How could I allow myself to believe that what I had done to Alex, the torture I had inflicted upon him, was ok? Mr. Parsons and Alex returned with trays full of watermelon wedges, cake, and coffee. My father clapped me once on the knee and got up to help them lay out the food, leaving me alone on the swing. I kicked my legs back and forth, the swing rocking gently. Mr. Parsons came over with a full plate, setting it down on the swing beside me. “You gonna help me with the fireworks tonight, right boy?” I nodded. “You ever lit fireworks before?” I shook my head. “Well, there’s really only one rule. Don’t get blowed up.” I smiled and giggled. “Just do what I tell ya and ya’ll be fine. And you listen to me on more thing,” he said more seriously. “Billy Parsons weren’t born yesterday, he can see a few things that’s going on. You two boys is too close to each other to be fightin like this. From what I can tell, you the one that’s doin all the fightin.” I looked down. “That there is the only brother you got, and brothers stick together no matter what, ya hear me? You go patch things up with him. Ain’t nothing he coulda done that bad.” Mr. Parsons didn’t even wait for me to answer, just left the plate of food on the swing. I looked at it, and then looked over to Alex, who had found a quiet corner of the yard under a tree, sitting with his back to the trunk and gazing off across the fields at the sunset. I kicked at the dirt, stared at a rock, then looked back up at him. With a sigh, I picked up the plate and walked mechanically across the yard, my mind blank, standing in front of Alex. He looked up at me, his eyes large. “Can I sit here?” I asked softly. He nodded, and I sat down, facing him. He looked like he was going to say something, and then decided not too. “Wanna have a race?” I said. “Down to the fence past the field and back. Ok?” He didn’t say anything. I jumped to my feet and started running. “Last one back has the smallest dick!” That got him started. “You are so last,” he said playfully, jumping to his feet. I glanced over at my father, smiling. Mr. Parsons nodded approvingly at me, lifting his beer bottle in salute. We tore off across the field, our laughter echoing in my ears. ******* “I miss this,” my father said, pulling the sheet up over my bare chest. “I’m never around to put you boys to bed.” He smiled. “I’ll bet you’re up until the wee hours most nights anyway.” “Most of the time,” said Alex, lying on top of his sheet reading a book. “Usually we just stay up until morning and then go to sleep.” “Hey, you’re not supposed to do that until college,” he warned, and then laughed. “As long as the house is burned down when I get back, then I suppose its all fine. At least, until school starts. Then we’ll have to have some rules around here instead of letting anarchy reign.” I smiled. School was still weeks away, and nothing to be worried about just yet. Dad adjusted the covers, touched my nose playfully, and then his eyes seemed to cloud up. He started singing in a soft voice, a song I hadn’t heard in a long time. Let the sun be there I started to sing with him. If I were a mountain Alex joined in, his voice cracking. For I’m like the mountains Let the sun be there Silence settled over the room. Alex was fighting back tears, and my father got off the bed to give him a hug. I spoke in a hushed voice. “I remember when Mom used to sing that song.” “She did,” he said quietly. “I thought it was time we started singing it again. It’s been over two years.” I got out of bed and sat next to my father, his arm going around my shoulder as we all started crying together. That day came flooding back to me, Mom going out with my oldest brother Jeremy to buy him a new pair of soccer cleats first thing in the morning before we all went to Boston for the day. One hour, two hours, three hours went by, they didn’t come home. Dad kept saying that everything was fine, but I knew it my heart that it wasn’t. All day we waited, no news, no phone call, nothing. The police didn’t come until after dark. Dad sent us to our rooms, I sat shaking with Alex on his bed, neither of us daring to speak. When he came to tell us, I already knew what he was going to say. “We’ve still got each other,” he said softly. “And we’re going to stick together, no matter what, right?” “No matter what,” I repeated, a mantra from days past, a young child that would say that whenever I needed reassurance that my parents loved me “no matter what.” We didn’t say anything else, Dad holding us until our crying subsided, tousling my hair before getting up. “Don’t go to sleep too late boys, ok?” We both nodded as he shut the door quietly behind him. Alex looked over at me, wiping his eyes on his arm and sniffling. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked, his voice quivering. I shook my head. “We don’t have to do that stuff ever again if you don’t want to.” “It’s ok,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean what I said.” He got up and turned off the light, leaving the room bathed in moonlight that reflected off his bare skin, pearly gray and luminescent. He shed his underwear, walking back and sitting beside me naked. “I made a promise that I didn’t keep,” he said quietly. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but he put his arm on my shoulder, pushing me gently to lie down on my back. Tenderly, he lifted my head and put a pillow underneath it, his hand coming to rest on my chest, rising and falling as I breathed in and out. “Alex,” I said softly, not understanding what he was doing, lifting my head up, a little nervous. “Shhh,” he said, placing his finger on my lips. “I promised I would show you how to do it.” He gently pushed my head back down on the pillow. “I miss mom and Jeremy a lot.” “I do too,” I whispered. “But when I get really sad, I like to remember that I still have one brother left. You’re the best brother anyone could have.” I blinked. “You too,” I whispered. His hands traced down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my underpants. I lifted off the bed so that he could pull them off completely. I was surprised to see my thing standing as tall and stiff as his. He laid down next to me, his skin warm and soft. I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, his hand was wrapped around me. My eyes sprang open, my jaw fell, my heart began to pound hard enough to explode. It was not the first time he had ever touched me. In fact, we had touched each other many times in days long past, playing together in the bathtub, chasing each other naked around the house trying to grab the other’s pecker until mom screamed in frustration. Back then it was a game. This was no game. I knew in the back of my mind that this was wrong, that boys, kids were not supposed to do these kinds of things together, especially brothers. His breath was hot on my skin, his own hard dick pressed into my thigh. Without warning, his hand slid down, stretching the skin on the head of my dick ever so slightly before he pulled back up. A wave of sensation flooded my brain, short-circuiting synapses. A feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, the same one that I had felt standing over Alex while he cried under the belt. I sat bolt upright, pushing Alex off to the side. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scared. “I dunno,” I said, my voice shaking. “Did you feel anything?” I nodded. “Lie back down, that’s just the beginning.” “I’m scared.” He sat up beside me, holding my hand. “There’s nothing to be scared about. It’s not going to hurt, it feels better than anything else you ever felt. I promise.” I let him gently push me back down on the bed, his hand wrapping itself around my dick again, this time stroking a little harder, a little faster. I gasped under my breath, and he smiled, his finger tracing over my chest. “How does it feel?” he asked. I had no answer for that. I had never felt anything like this, the warmth of his body, the power of sensations coming from my groin that I hadn’t imagined even existed before this moment. I breathed hard, my eyes meeting his. He smiled again. “This is just the start,” he said. “Wait until the finish.” He stroked me again, sending another wave of ecstasy through my entire young frame. I shuddered, my eyes crossing. He bent down to whisper in my ear. “Tie me up.” I turned to look at him. “But then, you can’t…” He put his finger on my lips again. “There’s another way.” He let go of me, the absence of his hand making me feel cold and alone, then reached under the bed and pulled out two lengths of rope, dangling from his hand. “Please. No torture, just tie me up.” I took the rope from his hands. He turned around, placing his hands behind his back his wrists crossed. It took me no time at all to bind his hands tightly. I did the same to his ankles, using the remainder of the rope to tie them to his hands so that he was unable to stand. Carefully, he turned around, maneuvering himself so that he knelt between my legs. “Hold my head down while I do this,” he whispered. “Push hard. Don’t let go.” I had no idea what he meant. He bent over at the waist, his face right next to my thing, still hard and throbbing, my eyes wide with shock as he opened his mouth. He couldn’t possibly… I fell back down on the bed, the sensation as his tongue ran over me more than my ten year old mind could handle. Moments later, I was enveloped in warm wetness, his tongue running back and forth, up and down. I groaned, the feeling amplified far more, thrusting instinctually deeper into his mouth. He moaned softly, and I remembered the hands. I reached out, grabbing his hair and pushing him down on me so that he couldn’t pull back up. Alex moaned even louder, his ministrations faster and faster, bobbing up and down on me. I felt the feeling building inside, biting my lip to keep from crying out. I knew what he wanted, what he needed, and I yanked his hair hard, pushing his face into me. The feeling grew and grew, amplified, multiplied, until a single instant when a rush hit me like an avalanche. I groaned as it overwhelmed me, swept me away into a world that held no boundaries, no limitations, a world where I could soar free. If there was a heaven, I knew this is what it had to feel like. And then it was over. I collapsed, not even realizing that my back was arched so high that the only parts of me touching the bed were my heels and my head. Alex moaned softly again, and I pried my hands loose from his hair, letting him sit back up, a grin on his face. “Well?” he said. “Holy shit,” I whispered. “That’s what it feels like.” “Holy shit,” I whispered again. He ran his finger across my forehead, wet with my sweat, and then giggled. I couldn’t help it, I started to giggle, which soon turned to a full throated laugh. We laughed long into the night, finally falling asleep nude snuggled up against each other, Alex’s hands and feet still bound. He woke me in the middle of the night with his mouth on my dick once again, and as he brought me to a climax that felt even more powerful and significant, waves of emotions flooded in me, waves of love for my brother so powerful that I knew when he asked me to help him resume his explorations into pain tomorrow, there could only be one answer. I would tell him yes. |