Page 16 of Pieces of Me

“Breathe, Scott,” Rylan murmured. “Just breathe.”

Scott shuddered, his hands clenched into fists. “I hate her,” he burst out. “I hate her. Makin’ it seem like I’m some mooch or freeloader in front of your dad, and doin’ her best to keep me from havin’ anything nice in my life. Hittin’ me like a dog.”

“I know. She’s a toxic bitch.”

Scott gave a watery snort. “She’s also your dad’s wife. She’ll make you pay for chasin’ after me.”

“Bring it,” Rylan said fiercely. “Bring it. ’Cause I told you when I first moved in, she and my dad’s marriage is between them, not us. I’m on your side, Scott.” He rubbed Scott’s back. “I’m on your side.”

At those words, Scott lost the battle with his emotions and let the tears come.

✩✩✩

Rylan lay awake on his futon, pushed up on his elbow and watching Scott’s restless sleep. After Scott had calmed down, they’d lurked in the woods for a couple hours, tramping through the leaves and along the stream, not talking much but not straying far from each other’s side either.

At last they’d made their way back to the trailer, noticing with relief the lights were out. Scott led Rylan over to their bedroom window in the back, pushing it open easily and climbing through, boosting himself up with one foot on the AC unit.

Once he’d gotten in, he’d extended a strong hand and pulled Rylan up, grunting in exertion when Rylan’s foot caught on the windowsill and caused him to lose his balance and crash right into Scott’s chest. Scott’s arms had automatically gone around him to steady him, and for a few seconds, Rylan was plastered against him from chest to knee.

That remembered sensation was what kept Rylan awake now, the feel of Scott’s arms around him and their bodies pressed close together. It felt good, better than good, and Rylan was battling guilt over the realization he was sexually attracted to his own stepbrother.

It’s not like that, Rylan told himself fiercely. You’re not some pervert getting off on a taboo. In truth, Scott was barely more than a stranger, a breathtakingly attractive stranger, and being in close proximity to a beautiful boy was what had Rylan feeling like this. It wasn’t weird; it was normal. It had to be.

Scott groaned in his sleep, and the low huskiness of it shot straight to Rylan’s balls, tightening his groin. All of a sudden, Scott kicked his covers off and rose from the bed, and Rylan hurriedly flattened out on his stomach and pretended to be asleep. Scott opened the door and left the bedroom. The toilet flushed in the distance soon after, cluing Rylan into what had disturbed him.

Rylan kept his eyes closed and tried his best to breathe deeply and evenly as he heard Scott’s footsteps pause by his futon, as if Scott was checking on him. The bed creaked as Scott climbed back in, and Rylan waited for his soft snores to start up again. Instead, he heard a lot of rustling, and Scott huffing out a sigh. Then there came a rhythmic sound, a familiar sound, the sound of the act Rylan had indulged in in the shower himself before coming to bed. Oh, God.

Scott’s breaths were rough, uneven, little moans breaking from his lips that Rylan could tell he was trying to suppress. Rylan squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his pillow as he listened to his stepbrother relieve the stress and upset of the past few hours in the most basic of ways. Rylan rocked his hips into the mattress below him in accompaniment, the friction against his own aching erection driving him on as Scott’s movements sped up.

Rylan dared to open his eyes and peek over at him, and he blessed the moonlight that streamed in from the open blinds and fell across Scott’s bed, illuminating him as he arched his back, the fingers of one hand pinching his nipple, the other hand busy between his upraised and spread legs.

Suddenly Scott froze, his head thrown back, and Rylan wished with all his heart he could see the creamy white that must be shooting out all over the gorgeous skin of Scott’s belly and chest. Rylan would lick it up, every drop, and feed it to Scott with his tongue…

The thought sent Rylan over the edge, and he ground his dick down into the mattress as he came hard in his sleep pants, the fluid jetting out in agonizing pulses and spreading warmth up Rylan’s stomach. He bit into his pillow with all his might to keep from crying out, his fists twisted in the bedding next to his head.

As he lay there, not daring to move, he heard Scott get up and wipe himself down with something, most likely the damp towel left drying over the back of the small chair in the corner. After that came the sound of him sliding back between the sheets, a half groan, half sigh drifting to Rylan’s ears before little snores let Rylan know Scott was asleep.

Rylan got up and peeled his cold, sticky pants and underwear down before crawling naked back under his quilt, deciding that rooting around in the drawer for clean clothes would be too noisy.

As he drifted off, the guilt flooded him again. He’d intruded on a most private moment…gotten off on it, no less. Rylan wondered how he could look at Scott in the future and remember his groan, the way he’d looked as he arched off the bed in orgasm, without getting hard and giving himself away.

Fuck my life.

CHAPTER 4

As it happened, Rylan didn’t need to worry about giving himself away to Scott because after the fight with Heather, Scott was never around. He didn’t come home until well after dinner, climbing in through their bedroom window and disappearing into the shower before collapsing into bed.

Lisa picked him up at the bus stop every morning, and Rylan surmised Scott was with her at night, or maybe at the gym. The gym was a definite possibility because as the weeks went on, Scott got leaner and more defined, with cut six-pack abs and an even tighter ass.

Bob tried his best to smooth things over after the altercation, holding a “family meeting” the Friday after the fight. All that accomplished was Scott staring at Heather until she fidgeted and offered a half-assed apology, saying something about “being stressed” and “taking it out on him.” Scott hadn’t replied, just grunted, his trademark sneer pronounced. The little kids had whined and fussed, earning their mother’s sharp rebuke, and afterward Bob made them all root beer floats and tried to pretend everything was fine.

Rylan’s heart ached. His dad didn’t do conflict well, and Bob didn’t understand why everyone couldn’t get along. Privately, Rylan thought what they all needed was family counseling, not ice cream and pretense.

Rylan spent most of his time with Gabriel, riding the bus to and from school with him and eating lunch with him every day. In the spirit of solidarity, Rylan took a portion of his precious savings and had both ears pierced with ostentatious cubic zirconia studs. He visited a salon and had his hair cut in some ridiculous fade, shaved on the sides, and asked to have the hair remaining on top dyed lavender. The hairstylist shook her head, but did it. Bob’s reaction to it was openmouthed shock, and Heather hadn’t said anything, but her disgusted face spoke volumes. Rylan kept a poker face and tried not to care.

There was dead silence the first morning Rylan climbed on the bus with his new accessories and hair; even Lester, the bus driver, was agog. Rylan squared his shoulders, swallowed hard, and sauntered to his usual seat next to Gabriel, the picture of unconcern and fabulousness.

“Fag!”