L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (27 page)

 

“Hello to you too,” I said.

 

“Dustin, it can’t be true.” Panic crept into his angry voice. “Tell me it’s a joke. Tell me it’s one disgusting fucking joke.”

 

My stomach turned. “It’s not a joke, Tristan.”

“You can’t be serious. You, my own fucking brother, turned
queer
?”
“Of course, this is all about you,” I snapped.
“What is the matter with you? A man? Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”
“Tristan—”

“No, no,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t want to know. I just can’t believe this. No brother of mine is a faggot.”

“Fuck you, Tristan,” I growled, more hurt than angry. “You might as well just accept it.”
“No, I absolutely will
not
accept it.” He cursed under his breath. “Christ, no wonder Stephanie ran around on you. Ten years with a man who’d rather be a woman, I think anyone would—”

“That’s enough, Tristan.”
“Yeah, it’s more than enough,
fucking freak
.”
The line went dead.
I wondered if he would ever look me in the eye again.

I rested my elbows on my knees and my forehead on my clasped hands, holding the phone and hoping it stayed silent for a few minutes.
Just let me catch my breath
.

Never in my life had I felt so severed from my family. I’d disappointed my mother when I left Stephanie, but my siblings had supported me. This time, I disgusted them. Repulsed them. Only my sister supported me. Rick wasn’t outwardly hostile, but his voice was filled with tacit disapproval. Tristan’s response shouldn’t have surprised me, but in a way, it did. Or maybe it just surprised me that it hurt as much as it did.

My shoulders slumped under the weight of my family’s revulsion.

Brandon’s hand came to rest on the back of my neck, his gentle, reassuring touch giving me permission to exhale. There was a world of comfort in that simple gesture.
I’m here. You’re not alone.

“You okay?”
“I’m still breathing.”
“At this point, that’s about all you can ask for.”
I released a long breath as he rubbed my neck. “That feels good.”

His fingers kneaded the tense muscles. “I wish there was more I could do to make you feel better.”
I put my hand on his knee, still resting my forehead on the hand holding my phone. “Just having you here helps.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Turning to look at him, I started to speak, but our eyes met, and in that instant, I forgot what I’d been about to say. All I was aware of was how heavy and dull the atmosphere must have been before, because the second we made eye contact was like an awakening. Everything else was a dream, and Brandon was reality.

Neither of us looked away. Neither breathed. Blood pounded in my ears, drowning out the shrill ringing of the phone in my hand. In some distant, quiet part of my mind, I knew there was more pain and guilt waiting for me on the other end of that call, but the only thing that mattered was what I found in Brandon’s eyes: Comfort. Respite.
Absolution
.

Slowly, probably not even realizing what he was doing, Brandon swept the tip of his tongue across his lower lip.

 

My phone clattered to the floor.

T
HE
more I kissed him, the more I needed him. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down on top of me on the couch, losing myself in him. His body against mine wasn’t enough; I needed the warmth of his skin, needed to be as close to him as possible.

There were times in the past when I’d needed him so bad it hurt, when I was so overcome with hunger for him that I couldn’t even think. A buckle jingled. This was one of those times, but I was desperate for him like never before. A seam ripped. This time, his touch offered relief from pain that was much more than just physical.

The heavy thud of jeans muffled my ringing phone, and the warmth of Brandon’s hand on the side of my face silenced the guilt and self-loathing in my mind.
I need you to tell me this is all okay
. He didn’t push me away.
I need to feel something other than all of this pain
. He wanted me.
I need you, Brandon
. His touch was as desperate as mine, and that made everyone else’s disapproval and revulsion irrelevant.

My fingers tangled in his hair and I kissed his neck and the underside of his jaw before working my way back up to his mouth.

“Let’s take this—” He cut himself off, kissing me again. “Let’s take this in the bedroom.” I nodded, and we tried to get up but fell into another long, deep kiss. Even with the promise of the release I so desperately needed, I couldn’t let him go. He finally managed to stand and pulled me up with him.

It seemed like hours before we made it down the hall to the bedroom. Brandon shoved me up against the wall and kissed me, exploring my mouth as if he’d never tasted my kiss before. A few steps later, I did the same to him.

Even after we made it into the bedroom, the bed was still too far away. I leaned him against the wall and kissed him as I stroked his cock.

He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and moaning. Still stroking him, I bent and kissed his neck, my mouth watering with each vibration of his voice against my lips.

“Oh God, Dustin—oh,
fuck
….” His words were clipped, as if stuck in his throat. He sounded like he was in pain or on the verge of tears. Maybe both. He took a gulp of air, tried to speak, gasped again. Finally, he whispered, “Condom.
Now
.”

Reaching for the drawer, my hands were shaking. Hell, my entire body was shaking. I wanted to fuck Brandon, and I wanted to fuck him like both of our lives depended on it—at that point, mine may very well have. I’d never felt like this before, consumed by this overwhelming, primal need not just to fuck someone, but
feel
them.

It occurred to me then, as I pulled the condom out of the drawer, that I could very well lose control like never before, and I didn’t want to hurt Brandon. He liked it hard and rough, but I was on the verge of completely coming apart.

I tore the wrapper with my teeth, damn near shredding it. As I kissed Brandon, I stroked him gently again.
“Put it on,” he pleaded. “Oh fuck, put—” He gasped as I rolled the condom onto his cock instead of my own.

“I want you to fuck me,” I whispered, kissing his neck as I fumbled blindly for the lube.

His Adam’s apple bobbed against my lips. A moment later, he put both hands on my face and raised my head to kiss him. “You want me to fuck you?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said, my voice shaking. “Please, fuck me.”

“Absolutely,” he said in a hoarse, unsteady whisper. I started towards the bed, but he grabbed my shoulders. Before I could react, he had me against the wall, kissing the back of my neck as he pressed his cock against my ass.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

He pushed into me slowly, my knees trembling as he gave me a little at a time. “Oh God, you feel good,” he growled.
Closing my eyes, I moaned, both mind and body relaxing as Brandon slid into me. He moved slowly, almost cautiously, as he always did when he fucked me. I wasn’t as accustomed to it as he was, but this time, I wanted everything he could give me. I needed it.

“Harder,” I said, surprised I could even manage that much.

He hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He held my hips tighter and slowed his strokes, as if struggling to keep himself from losing control.

“Fuck me harder,” I said.
“Dustin, I—”
“
Make
it hurt.”
“Are—”
“
Please
.”

He said nothing, but his breath caught. Taking a long, ragged breath, he withdrew slowly, and for a moment, I was afraid he wouldn’t do it at all. Then he whispered—through clenched teeth, from the sound of it— “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this.”

Before I could comprehend what he’d said, he slammed his cock into me and gave me everything he had, fucking me so hard I saw stars. It hurt, but not the way I was afraid it would the first time; it was the kind of primal, violent sex that was hot
because
of the pain, because of the roughness.

I braced myself against the wall with my forearms, hoping that my knees wouldn’t give out, at least not before this reached its peak. “Oh God,” I said, panting and growling. “Oh my God, that’s….”

“Like that?” he asked breathlessly.

I tried to speak, finally managing a nod. Closing my eyes, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could do nothing but savor every intense sensation he gave me. It was everything I needed and then some. It was more than I could handle, but still I wanted more.

I was on the edge when my knees buckled. I cursed, but Brandon kept me upright.
“You okay?” He ran his hands up my sides, kissing between my shoulder blades.

“Yeah,” I said, my mouth dry from breathing so hard. “Just can’t hold myself up.”

He pulled out slowly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not yet.” I turned around to kiss him. “Now fuck me.” He laughed, kissed me again, and said, “Lie on the bed.” “On my back?”
Nodding, he said, “I’ve got this. You’re just going to lie back and

enjoy it.” He paused for more lube, then joined me on the bed. As he slid into me, moving still deeper, he kissed my neck and whispered, “I love being inside you, Dustin.”

I could only moan, holding onto his shoulders as he withdrew and pushed back in.

He kissed beneath my ear. “Jesus, you feel good.”
“So do you,” I said. “Fuck me hard, fuck—”

“I will,” he said, his lips brushing against the underside of my jaw. “But you had me so close to coming earlier, and I don’t—” His voice caught. When he exhaled, his breath whispered across my skin. “I don’t want this to be over yet.”

I shivered, closing my eyes as his cock slid into me again.

“I’m always afraid I’m going to hurt you,” he said, breathing hard as he withdrew. “That you won’t want me to do it again.” He kissed my mouth, his tongue dipping between my lips. “But you want me to fuck you like that again, don’t you?”

“
Please
.”
“Hard and fast?”

“Yes.” I blinked, my eyes refusing to focus for a second. “
Fuck me
.”

He didn’t put it off any longer: He slammed his cock into me. Everything around me disappeared as he fucked me so hard I couldn’t tell pain from pleasure anymore. I tried to focus on him again but realized that I couldn’t see through the blur of tears that had welled up in my eyes from the sheer intensity.

No one had done this to me before. No one had given me so much pleasure that I teared up. And I’ll be damned if anyone had ever made me feel this good in the wake of that kind of pain.

“Oh my God… oh fuck, I’m—” My hands clawed the bed beside me. “Jesus, I—” I took in a gasp of breath. “Fuck, Brandon, I—” The words lodged in my throat, and I had a split second to panic at what I
very
nearly said before a powerful orgasm took over.

Over the sound of my own voice, I distantly heard him say, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come….” He groaned and fucked me even harder before he threw his head back and roared, driving himself into me so hard it almost knocked the air out of my lungs, and came.

I was vaguely aware of him leaving the bed for a moment to see to the condom. Then he collapsed on his back next to me. For a long time, the room was silent except for the two of us panting and the thrumming of my blood in my ears.

When everything finally stopped spinning, I turned to him. We both smiled.
“Feel better?” he asked with a grin.

“Hell, yeah,” I said. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“I live to serve,” he laughed.

I chuckled and clasped his hand gently, closing my eyes as I tried to catch my breath.
Though the guilt and self-loathing from earlier were a distant, surreal memory for the time being, there was a new knot in my gut. Only the overwhelming intensity of my orgasm had kept me from saying something I wasn’t sure I wanted to say.

Was I really going to say it?
Did I mean it?
Could I mean it?
Swallowing hard, I wondered….
Did I really love Brandon Stewart?

I
LOOKED
at Rick over my coffee cup. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken questions ringing in my ears.

“So how is married life?” I asked, setting my coffee down and thumbing the handle.