Chapter Text
It’s a long, long lane that has no turning
And it’s a fire that always keeps on burning
Mister Devil down below
Pitchfork in his hand
And that’s where you are going to go, do you understand?The Devil’s gonna git you
Devil’s gonna git you
Oh, the Devil’s gonna git you
Man, just as sure as you’s born
Devil’s Gonna Git You, Bessie Smith
After finishing his session in the bathroom, Chris headed for the shower and washed himself thoroughly.
He repeated his morning prayer three times while washing himself and at least five more times while getting ready, his body still numb from the recent org*sm. He needed to exterminate the sinful thoughts before meeting the rest of the family, before having to look them in the eye and pretend he hadn't cum thinking about his brother a few minutes ago.
Wearing, as usual, a perfectly ironed dress shirt, Chris made a pair of tailored pants go well with his newest black Converse. He was trying to get away from the usual combination of wearing Air Forces for every possible occasion, and where better to test out a new outfit than at the most important weekly event? His parents made it clear that they disapproved of a grown man wearing “teenager's shoes” to go to the house of God. They believed that he should show more respect, especially as an example to the other young people who attended church, since he and his brothers were the closest thing to what Father Jared could call his children.
Would they still find him worthy of example if they knew how many times he had touched himself thinking about their other son?
Finishing getting ready, Chris looked lovingly at the last item that was never left out, carefully taking it out of the box. He put it on and felt the cold leather hug his wrist just as the man who had given it to him had hugged his torso in the morning. The precise pointers on the present showed that he was ten minutes late for breakfast and, with the images of his sleeping brother's bare chest still burning behind his eyelids, Chris headed downstairs.
"Chris! What took you so long, boy? Have some breakfast, we'll be leaving in less than fifteen minutes,” Jimmy was the first to draw his attention to the lateness of the hour, passing by the boy and giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You and Matt need to deliver the chants before Mass today, don't forget, okay?”
Chris nodded, his mouth already chewing his food before he even sat down at the table. Nick sipped his coffee while reading something on his phone, always ready many minutes ahead of the younger twins. He used to say that being two years older than them kept him ahead of the game.
In the total silence of the kitchen that morning, Chris watched Matt eat his cereal leaning against the counter next to the microwave, his head down and clearly lost in thought. His hair was damp and his shirt wasn't buttoned up as much as it should have been, with one lousy button less than the Catholic institution's dress code dictated, but that was enough to make Chris desperate. Matt looked so pretty wearing all black. The only highlight was the silver crucifix that hung over his chest and which he refused to take off.
Without exchanging a word, the three of them finished eating and headed for the car, where Marylou and Jimmy were already waiting, ready to arrive at least an hour earlier than necessary. Now that Justin was married and living with his wife in another house, the family had decided to abandon the minivan and buy a five-seater car, capable of supporting the remaining members. In their long-designated seats, Nick sat behind the driver, Chris behind the passenger and Matt between the two.
The familiar route to the church took about twenty minutes, long enough for Chris's mind to wander from what was probably going to be the ninth or tenth prayer of the morning. Trying to ask to be cleansed of his sins before distributing holy hymns seemed like the most reasonable thing to do, but the vanilla scent of Matt's freshly washed hair muddled Chris's senses, making it impossible to focus on his goal. He tried to keep his eyes on the scenery outside, but Matt was so irresistible in that outfit that hugged him perfectly, the silver necklace that matched his belt buckle and the rings on his pinky and index fingers.
Suddenly, while doing everything he could to keep his imagination in check, Chris felt a hand on his thigh, startling him. Matt just laughed through his nose, looking at him with a light expression and giving a sideways smile when he saw the other man's desperation. Forcing a smile back, Chris looked down and saw his brother's slender fingers spread over the black fabric that covered his thigh, the rings that made him so hot glistening against the dark pants.
The whole rest of the way seemed to take hours, as Chris struggled not to let himself get aroused by remembering what he had done in the bathroom earlier and feeling Matt's insistent hand still on his leg. At some point in his complete breakdown, the next thing Chris knew, Matt's fingers had slipped further in, wrapping around the inside of his thigh with his palm, so that his fingertips were trapped between Chris's leg and the car seat. f*ck, it was hard to stay strong in a situation like this.
When they finally arrived at their destination, Chris could feel droplets of sweat accumulating on the sides of his forehead and on his palms. As soon as the car was turned off, he was the first to jump out, sighing with relief as he got away from the numbing scent of the combination of vanilla shampoo and male deodorant of the man sitting next to him. The gentle morning breeze brushed against the ends of his hair that had stuck to the sweat on his temples, causing a contrasting sensation with the heat he felt churning in his stomach.
The next few moments passed for Chris almost automatically.
Polite greetings were given, daily hymns were distributed and, finally, their reserved seats in the first pew were taken. Uncle Jared had already completed more than half of the ceremony when Chris finally felt himself begin to understand the world around him again. When he realized the extent of the absurdity in which he found himself, Chris felt like crying and screaming for forgiveness until he couldn't endure it any longer.
He imagined himself having sex with his twin brother while the priest read verses from the Bible on the altar in front of him. He imagined f*cking him silly as he uttered the greatest profanities ever thought of inside the House of God. He imagined how Matt would look as he came, in what expression of absolute pleasure his beautiful face would twitch as the org*sm took hold of every nerve ending in his body.
“Mom, I have to go to the bathroom,” Chris whispered to the woman sitting to his left, not even waiting for an answer as he stood up. Matt, who was sitting to his right, looked at him with a frown, clearly realizing that something was going on. Twin telepathy or something. It was quite a task trying to keep any kind of secret from his brother, since, even after being separated from the womb, they seemed to be linked by every inch.
“What? Is everything all right?” his mother said, but the boy was already far away, hurrying to the restroom at the back, where only a few of the faithful went, just in case the main ones were completely occupied. He knew he needed some quiet, and having to listen to some curious gentleman who had to empty his bladder in the middle of Mass ask him why he hadn't come back yet would certainly irritate him excessively.
Breathing all wrong, Chris ran his sweaty palms over his chest, squeezing the buttons of his shirt between his fingers, wrinkling them in an unsuccessful attempt to untie the tight knot he felt inside his chest. Fanciful images spread through his mind like poison, a liquid that filled the little box he had created to store these kinds of thoughts, overflowing through the barriers built to keep it all in and never let it out. Chris looked in the mirror and saw a mess. His once perfectly tidy hair was now disheveled, he was aware that he unconsciously ran his hand through it when he was nervous, but he didn't know it was that much. He needed to fix himself.
With trembling hands, he washed his face in the cold water of one of the sinks on the counter, trying to cool down his body, which seemed to be on fire with how excited he was. His co*ck was throbbing inside his tailored pants, marking a bulge that was certainly impossible to disguise. For God's sake, this was all going too far. A few years ago, these thoughts only arose when permitted; in the silence of the night, in the solitude of the shower or even in one or other class during high school. Very rarely did he lose control and find himself fantasizing about Matt in inopportune situations. These days, however, keeping it all at bay was proving inconceivable.
Chris slowly dragged his feet into one of the few cabins in the clean bathroom, making sure to notice the cross nailed to the side wall before closing the door behind him. He leaned his forehead against the old wood just after he clicked the latch, putting his feet back and slightly apart, creating a kind of bridge with his body. His shoulders were tense and his eyes were tired, his eyelids heavy with the pressure of everything going on behind them. Chris closed his eyes and could see Matt perfectly, his silhouette lying on the bed, between the freshly bought gray sheets, contrasting with the pink shirt that covered his torso. f*ck, Chris loved it when Matt wore that shirt, the hem of which had been cut off in a moment of boredom a few months ago and which always rode up and exposed a little bit of his smooth skin. He imagined him wearing just that and a pair of black underwear, lying in bed completely at the mercy of Chris's actions, waiting patiently for his brother to destroy him.
Chris could perfectly see the scene slowly unfolding inside his head: Matt running one hand tantalizingly over his chest, stroking the teddy bear printed on his T-shirt with his fingertips, running the other down his hip and reaching for the hem of the boxers covering his thigh, hooking his middle finger in the fabric and spreading his legs as he smiled. Inviting him. God, Chris wanted to taste every part of his body. To kiss every inch, to drag his teeth with agonizing slowness, to run his tongue over every curve identical to his own, and to savor the sin of wanting his brother to be dancing on his taste buds.
He opened his eyes and stared for several seconds at the black Converse perfectly spaced out on the floor, with the ideal opening for the boy of his dreams to stand there in the middle and-
“Chris? Are you here?” he was suddenly pulled out of his fertile imagination and brought abruptly into the real world again. Matt's voice called out to him worriedly, entering the bathroom and knocking on what was surely the only closed door. “Mom asked me to make sure everything was okay, you left out of the blue, I figured you'd come to this bathroom. Do you need anything?"
He needed it, badly. He needed to shove his co*ck deep down Matt's throat and choke him until he couldn't keep asking so many questions.
“No,” Chris only realized he couldn't trust his own voice when he dared to answer verbally, stopping himself from giving any more explanations after hearing how shaky he sounded. And now he knew he'd f*cked it all up, because, without a shadow of a doubt, Matt would realize there was something wrong and would want to help.
“Open the door, I want to see you,” he couldn't open it, he really couldn't. Disregarding his disheveled hair, his crumpled blouse, his obviously frantic expression and his ragged breathing, there was still his hard co*ck, which showed perfectly through the thin fabric just below his belt. He wouldn't even have to explain, the gravity of the realization that he was hard on holy ground was undeniable. So, sniffling to try and fix his slurred voice, Chris forced himself to answer:
“There's no need to, I'm fine. I just have a bit of a headache,” he lied blatantly, even though he knew Matt wouldn't believe him. He closed his eyes tightly and frowned, embarrassed at the realization that his underwear was sticking to the tip of his co*ck with pre-cum. “You can go back to Mass, I'll be right there.”
“Chris, open the door, let me help you…” Matt suggested with unsurpassed purity, his voice almost whispery, almost as if he was trying to disguise the clear ambiguity in such obviously suggestive speech. But Chris was already f*cked, and the previous sight of Matt in his pink shirt lying on the bed was transformed into a Matt similar to the one waiting for him on the other side of the door, all dressed in black in perfectly tailored clothes, worthy of the priest's nephew.
To pretend that this simple phrase hadn't affected him would be a ridiculous lie. Chris felt his co*ck throbbing and a large drop of pre-cum leaking out of his slit at the sound of his brother's slurred voice on the other side of the door. His head ached with the excess of possibilities that were being pondered in the tiniest fraction of a second, should he open the door and let him see him like this? Was it still possible to pretend that he was hard for someone else who wandered around in his mind and not his own brother?
Without much thought, Chris moved a few steps away from the door and opened the latch, leaning against the side wall and letting Matt take the initiative to open it. With his eyes glued to the obtuse space between his feet, Chris could hear the subtle creak of old hinges opening, and then saw a pair of old Air Forces parked almost between his own. He allowed his gaze to go up just a little, keeping them fixed on the silver crucifix that adorned Matt's chest, without looking into his eyes for a single second.
His cheeks burning with the shame of knowing that his erection was evident, with his legs off the wall and his back stretched against it, Chris did everything he could not to let his eyes wander too far over the body of the other man in front of him. He tried his best to stare at the small exposed space of Matt's chest, with its f*cking open button that was driving him insane. Not a word was spoken as Matt went inside and locked the noisy door again. He felt so ashamed.
Suddenly, he felt one of Matt's hands touch his tensed shoulder, startling him. Fighting back the fear of what he might find when he looked into the other man's eyes, Chris forced himself to do so, met with an understanding expression. Matt brought his free hand up to his mouth, pressing the side of his index finger against his lips as he whispered a low shhh . Not having to worry about how to explain the situation he was in was quite a relief, so Chris was extremely grateful that Matt had suggested silence.
Flashing a beautiful smile, Matt stepped forward, placing himself between Chris's spread legs and immediately embracing him. Because his feet were away from the wall, Chris was slightly lower, his face sinking into the curve of the other man's neck and smelling the familiar scent of warm skin. He was hugged by the shoulders, with one of Matt's arms around the back of his neck while the other hand stroked his hair. Without thinking too much, he slipped both arms around his brother's slender waist, pressing him against his body and resting his hands against his back.
Chris felt the first tears begin to form as Matt pressed himself tighter against him until his erection touched his thigh. It was obvious that he was feeling it against his leg as he stroked Chris's hair in the purest way possible. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and Father Jared's voice praying something random was the only sound that could be heard at that moment.
Chris's dismayed mind tried incessantly to push away everything he wanted to do with Matt at that moment. He wanted to run his hands all over his body, caress him lovingly and squeeze his flesh until the marks of his fingers were purplish on the pale skin. He pulled Matt tighter against himself and felt the other deliberately push his thigh against his erection, squeezing it shamelessly. Trapping a desperate moan deep in his throat, Chris sank his face deeper into his brother's neck, letting his partially parted lips brush over the spot just below his ear. In a sudden burst of courage – or perhaps inconsequence – Chris freed one of his hands from Matt's back and slipped it between their torsos, finding the first button of his black shirt and unbuttoning it with ease.
As he felt Matt's leg still statically pressed against his erection, Chris quickly unbuttoned two more, spreading his icy hand over the warm chest that was now reachable and feeling the other shiver on top of him. Neither of them dared utter a word, preferring to keep whatever was happening implicit between them. If no one said anything, nothing had ever happened, right? Words give strength to things, and if there are no words, there is no sin either.
Slightly pulling aside the partially open blouse of the man in front of him, Chris tugged at the fabric until one side slid over his shoulder, his hand trailing along in a shallow touch, reaching the still-covered bicep and squeezing hard. His fingers sank into the thin flesh there, crushing Matt's arm as he pulled his other hand down his back and pressed one of his ass cheeks against his open palm. He could hear Matt sigh erratically against his hair and an unrestrained moan was heard, very softly, as Chris simultaneously increased the pressure with which he squeezed his ass and scraped his teeth against his exposed collarbone.
Chris wanted so, so, so much to sink his teeth into the thin skin that covered the protruding bone that was in contact with his lips. But he knew he couldn't leave a mark on his brother, it was all he wanted most, f*ck, all he'd ever wanted his whole life, but it was a clear fact that he couldn't taint sweet Matt with the reflections of his possessive behavior. Blindly, Chris humped against the thigh that was still between his legs, the wet head of his co*ck sliding deliciously against the firm muscle and he felt himself coming too close to cumming right there, with a single thrust and a rather awkward embrace.
“Shh…” it was only when he heard Matt whisper again and plant a kiss on his hair that Chris realized that the tears that had started had been released a long time ago. Matt had probably felt them wet his skin where Chris's face was buried, or heard him give a shaky sigh characteristic of crying, but whatever the option, both were equally humiliating. He was rubbing his hard co*ck against his brother's body inside a tiny cubicle in the bathroom of the church they had attended since they were children. Yeah, he was definitely condemned to burn for eternity in hell for doing such an absurd thing.
“Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed,” Uncle Jared's voice came over the heavy breathing of the boys in the bathroom stall. Chris felt his heart squeeze as the words sank into his ears. Matt seemed oblivious, almost completely static, if it hadn't been for the careful hands that incessantly stroked Chris's hair, shoulders and the back of his neck. “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.”
To hear the sacred words seemed to awaken something inside Chris, bringing to the surface everything bad that he had managed to put aside in the last few minutes. His chest tightened, his mouth went dry and more and more tears continued to flow from his lost eyes. Matt was there, trying to help him, being a good brother, and all Chris could do was feel his lust take over at the excess of power he had in his hands. f*ck, Matt was completely at his disposal, his limp body leaning over his, allowing him to do whatever he wanted, even the most sinful things. Then, breaking their unspoken promise to remain silent, Chris inevitably began to beg:
"Forgive me… please. I- I didn't mean to feel that way, I swear,” his voice came out choked, aching, overflowing with all the guilt accumulated in the deepest part of his core. “I just wanted… God, I just wanted you to be-” his explanation was cut off by a loud sob, preventing him from putting into words the most devastating thing he had ever realized about himself. I just wanted you to be mine.
"Shh… Calm down, it's okay. It's not your fault." Chris hated how comprehensive Matt could be, always going out of his way to understand whatever sh*t his twin was going through. He didn't want Matt to understand, he wanted Matt to remain unaware of all the disgusting things bubbling up inside him until the day their hearts stopped beating. Chris would rather die with this weight trapped inside every cell of his being than allow his much-loved brother to be affected by it all.
“Stop it, Matt,” he said as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, praying that God would take him right there and make him suffer for all eternity instead of dealing with the overly sweet heart he had at his disposal but which he knew he didn't deserve. Chris felt Matt disentangle one of his hands from his hair, lower it to his hip and pull up the side of his shirt until it came out of the waistband of his pants. Nimble fingers found the newly created opening and moved until they settled on his waist, caressing skin to skin, in a contact that was so innocent and so delicate at the same time. “Don't do this to me, please.”
“Let me help you, I can make it all go away,” Matt said quietly, snaking his hand under Chris's loose dress shirt and kissing the top of Chris's head several times, which shook every now and then with the strangled sobs of his persistent crying. “I've learned to deal with it, Chris, I can teach you how to deal with it too. You just have to say yes."
Was this how the Devil tried to persuade people to sin? By putting your greatest weakness in front of you and making it whisper in a slurred voice in your ear how much it wanted you to give in?
Desperate at the prospect of caving in, Chris did what seemed to be the one thing he always resorted to when he needed an outlet: pain. It didn't matter whether he was feeling it or inflicting it on someone else, he just needed excessive demonstrations of an almost excruciating pain unfolding in front of him. With conviction, Chris squeezed the hand that still rested on Matt's ass with a force he had never done before, sinking his fingertips so aggressively into the soft flesh that his gnarled nails threatened to tear through the thin fabric of his pants. He wanted to take it all out, but he didn't want Matt to suffer. Not ever. Matt deserved to have the most wonderful life possible, without any aspect of discomfort, but Chris wanted to hurt him. So, so, so much. He just wanted Matt, in some crazy way, to enjoy this feeling as much as he did.
"You can hurt me, Chris. I want you to. We deserve it.” Hearing such nonsense, he didn't even allow himself to think, shoving Matt hard, separating their bodies abruptly. Before any questions could be asked, Chris fixed his posture and, in one swift movement, reversed their positions, pressing Matt's face against the wall where he had previously been and hugging him from behind. His body seemed to cover the other with ease, as if his brother were too small compared to him. One of Chris's arms immediately positioned itself vertically over Matt's torso, his palm flat against his sternum, his fingers pointing towards his chin.
His other hand sank into Matt's hair, just as he had done to him only a few moments before, but instead of the sweet, comforting touch, his grip on the strands was painful, and served to keep his cheek fixed against the icy surface of the wall. Matt's eyes were wide and his mouth half-open, his breathing was ragged and, f*ck, he looked so beautiful like that, immobilized, with his face pressed hard against the sacred walls of the church. Chris wanted to take advantage of the space already present between his red lips and lower him to the height of his hips just so he could push his co*ck inside without the slightest care.
It was hard to keep from feeling bad and sorry for the situation when his co*ck was pressed so deliciously into the space between his brother's ass cheeks. What unsettled Chris the most was knowing that, with the force he had applied there a few minutes earlier, the previously untouched skin would surely be showing signs of turning purple for a long time to come. Chris wanted to appreciate the bruises, the transition from the immediate redness to the later purple, which in the future would take on greenish and yellowish tones, this being the perfect moment for him to make his mark there again, so that Matt would always have a memory of him imprinted on his skin.
He just needed to be sure. That was all. At least that was the excuse Chris gave himself to slide his hand from Matt's exposed chest to his groin, finding an erection as hard as his own. However, a few seconds later it was possible to hear the man on the altar saying goodbye to everyone through the speakers around the church, indicating that the worshippers would soon begin to disperse and possibly go to the restrooms. At the last possible moment, Chris pushed his hips against his brother's for one last time, taking advantage of the moment of silence and, since he was already sinning, at least taking advantage of it until the last second.
Jesus, Matt was just as turned on as he was.
Without having time to process the weight of the realization, Chris heard agitated voices coming closer and closer, and at that moment he knew he had to get out of there as quickly as possible. As rapidly as he had handled them before, he pulled free of Matt and opened the latch of the rattling door, rushing into the next stall at the same second that two old men entered the bathroom. The last thing he could see inside the cubicle was his brother, with his flushed cheek pressed against the wall, his half-open eyes fixed on a random point and his mouth slightly open, with the tip of his tongue resting on his lower lip.
When he locked himself inside the booth, Chris sat down on the closed toilet seat and found himself in the same situation he had been in that morning: with an aching boner inside his underpants and a dark stain of pre-cum in the exact spot where his tip was. The only difference was that now he had lost control and crossed one of the dozens of barriers he had struggled to set up throughout his adolescence. His co*ck throbbed painfully with the gravity of it all, and the perception that it was the hardest he had ever been in his entire life was desperate. He knew why it felt so good. He knew it was the dull ache of the knowledge that he was sinning on holy ground coupled with the adrenaline rush of the possibility of being caught that was contributing to what had the potential to be the strongest org*sm of his life.
If only they hadn't been interrupted by the f*cking Mass.
He urgently needed to get his head straight. His blood was starting to run cold and his chest was beginning to tighten with the anxiety of trying to figure out what should be done from now on. Chris had done everything, absolutely everything, to stop himself from giving in to the desire that seemed to grow within him every minute. He remembered perfectly the first time he realized how different his feelings towards Matt were, how he should feel this way about a sweet, good church woman and not about his twin brother, with whom he had shared every second of his life since the beginning. He had lost track of how many times he had cried that morning alone, and he had no idea how he was going to get rid of that f*cking boner and that tear-stained face before lunch with his family.
As he tried to wipe his face, still partially damp from his earlier tears, Chris heard the sharp sound of the hinges of the adjacent stall opening. He had no idea how ready Matt already felt to face the outside world after what had happened, when just a few minutes ago Chris had felt how hard he too was inside those tailored pants. Chris tried to tidy his hair and tuck the hem of his shirt back into his pants, doing his best to look presentable when he finally had to leave. In the meantime, he heard the voice that had just been tempting him to sin, but it sounded like the usual polite and friendly Matt, saying good morning to whoever had just entered the bathroom.
"Matt! I finally found you. You guys missed the end of mass, jeez,” Jimmy's voice was suddenly present, mingling with the sound of a tap being turned on and water running. “Are you all right? You look uncomfortable,” thank God Matt had always been the smarter between the two of them, quickly diverting the subject with a lame excuse. "Where's your brother? We still have to go to the supermarket to buy things for lunch at your uncle's, remember?"
From then on, Chris didn't even bother to pay attention anymore, getting lost again in the still-fresh memories of the situation that had taken place in the cubicle next door. When he heard Matt promise that they would be in the car in five, he gave up on his shoddy tidying up and finally plucked up the courage to leave the secrecy provided by the four walls of that stall. His brother was staring at him in the mirror, his wet hands resting on the counter, his shoulders tense, and Chris didn't allow himself to check if there was still a bulge between his legs.
Looking deep into his brother's eyes through the tarnished mirror of that old church, Christopher felt like a sinner.
— SIXTEEN
The room was too hot and too crowded.
With dozens of people around, Chris felt overwhelmed. The room seemed too small to accommodate so many people and the smell of alcohol mixed with the sweat of strangers made him sick to his stomach. His mother would die if she knew they were at a party with alcohol on offer.
Him and Matt.
Who was standing next to him, holding a glass of warm leftover soda in one hand while biting his nails in the other, how uncomfortable he was. Chris had already noticed that he was feeling uneasy, running his hand through his hair every few minutes and looking around anxiously. Matt hated crowded places and Chris knew it, so now, looking back, accepting that invitation had been a huge waste of time.
It was the first time they had both attended a party other than a church one. One of their school friends was celebrating his birthday that weekend and, after a lot of explaining that there would be nothing illegal, the boys finally managed to convince their parents to let them go. However, they really didn't think there would be anything. Games, a few awkward conversations, one or two annoying people and that was it. But less than twenty minutes in, bottles of alcohol began to appear, the guests started to get drunk and Matt and Chris became increasingly bored.
Chris didn't even see the point in lying, he genuinely felt bad about being in an environment where he knew it was expressly forbidden. His parents weren't even there, they couldn't even dream that they were at an actual party instead of a church youth meeting, but he still felt guilty. He felt like a fool too, God, he couldn't even lie about something stupid without feeling like a complete fraud?
What he wouldn't give to be with Matt under the covers right now, sharing one of the single beds that was clearly too small for the two of them nowadays. He'd rather be watching his brother attentively watch a review of some indie game on YouTube than be in this disgusting room full of people. And he knew Matt would prefer it too, but it was still too early to go back. They had agreed to go home at eight, and considering that the party had started at six, two hours seemed like a reasonable amount of time to their overprotective mother.
But it was still ten past seven.
With a consternated sigh and his head filled with the unbearable pop music playing in the background, Chris decided to try to make the rest of the experience minimally interesting. Or at least less detestable.
“Hey, let's find somewhere less crowded to stay? I can't stand all these stinky people anymore,” when he looked into his brother's eyes after finishing his sentence, Chris could see the immediate relief in them. Indeed, Matt hated crowded places.
“Please,” he said as he held out his hand to Chris, interlacing their fingers as usual and waiting for the other to guide him to wherever he had in mind. With short, hurried steps, trying to elbow past the drunks, they finally found the stairs, dodging the people sitting on the steps.
Chris glanced briefly at a couple who were practically swallowing each other sitting at the top of the stairs. The girl's hands were intertwined in her boyfriend's hair, one leg thrown over his as they kissed fervently. His eyes couldn't help but wander to the guy's large hand that snaked under her dress, squeezing her bare thigh firmly. This sight, coupled with the feel of Matt's warm hand interlaced with his own, only added to Chris's desperation.
He gulped and took a deep breath, pulling his brother to the top of the stairs and finally into the slightly less crowded corridor. This strange feeling had been arising inside him at random, coming and going like he had never experienced before. It seemed that all the need to be with Matt that he had always felt was now subtly metamorphosing into something more dangerous. Being with Matt no longer seemed enough, he wanted to have him. To hold him against his chest and whisper that nothing would ever hurt him. One moment, Chris looked at him and saw only his brother, but in a split second, he felt his core begging for him in a different way. Carnal.
“This party sucks, I'd rather be at home cuddled up under the blanket with you,” Chris heard his brother's sweet voice whisper in his ear, piercing through the thunderous music and speeding up his heart unimaginably. Matt increased the grip between their clasped hands, turning slightly sideways to speak and reaching up with the other, snaking his way down to his bicep. It was so, so hard to resist.
The obscene thoughts that constantly materialized in Chris's troubled mind came back in full force, his breath caught in his chest and God knows how he didn't stop walking immediately. f*ck, he blamed himself so much, he felt so bad for thinking like that. His brother just wanted to have a bonding moment with him and all his repressed horny mind could think was “and I'd rather be under the covers touching you”.
Touching.
Even he didn't know exactly what that meant. It was hard to think of other words to describe what he felt like doing, he just wanted to… touch him. To snake his cool fingertips across the warm skin that was often hidden by too many layers of clothing. To smell the delicious scent emanating from his skin, in the space between his neck and shoulder. To run his lips along his thigh and feel the muscle contract under his kiss. Just… touch.
The lack of response was strange, he was so lost in his conflicting thoughts that he failed to force himself to agree with Matt. He contented himself with pulling him along until they reached a door that led out onto a balcony, where curtains swayed in the icy wind and drew attention to the empty space. Finally, the only quiet place in this f*cking house.
“Come on,” Chris said as he pushed aside the curtains and stepped inside, pulling Matt with him. The space was considerably large and faced the side of the house, where all that could be seen were the remnants of the party lights at the front. Matt made sure to close the door behind them, pulling the dark curtains until they covered all the glass, alienating them from the rest of the world.
"You're acting weird today. You're barely talking to me,” Matt said, searching for the other man's eyes, which were running away from his like the devil from the cross. sh*t, did he have to be so observant? Keeping these crazy thoughts at bay was becoming more and more inconceivable and all he would hate in the world is to act differently with Matt. But how the f*ck are you supposed to act when, looking at the familiar face of your twin brother, all you can think about is how you wish you had him for yourself?
"No, I'm not? Come on, sit down,” diverting the subject always seemed to be the best option in situations like this, so Chris constantly resorted to this strategy ”Do you want to play something to pass the time? I don't know, I just wanted to go home too,” he confessed with a sigh, sitting down on the floor and watching Matt do the same next to him as he laughed.
“We're total losers, aren't we? We've come to our first real party and we couldn't stand to be there for a single hour,” his tone was light and playful, making him seem too calm. One of his knees was slightly bent, with the other leg fully stretched out in front of him as he leaned back, resting one palm on the floor behind him. His body was perfect and Chris could admire it for hours.
From his partially dirty Air Forces, which highlighted his thin ankles that Chris wanted to grip so badly; up his legs covered by beige pants that, even though they were baggy, outlined his thighs just right; past his torso covered by a white Ransom shirt that Chris had given him; to his neck, with its white, empty skin that begged for a little color. Chris didn't quite understand why, but the need to see Matt's skin marked by the tiniest bruises was stronger than he was. Christ, he wanted to hurt him so f*cking much.
“Do you want to play matching lyrics?” Chris suggested, his gaze locked on the groove forming on his brother's right collarbone. The other denied it, shaking his head with a dismissive expression. “Do you want to play something on the phone?” again, denied. “Hmm... do you want to play spelling bee?” he concluded with an embarrassed expression, bringing one hand up to the back of his head shyly as he looked away at the landscape ahead.
“What?” Matt asked followed by a sincere laugh, finding Chris's dubious behavior weird. Especially him, who was always so natural in any situation.
“I don't know...” with another laugh, Matt removed his hand from behind himself, lying back and stretching out completely on the unclean floor. Chris admired his ability to make everything seem so simple between the two of them. Well, everything was very simple between the two of them. They were brothers, they were at a boring party and now they were looking for something interesting to do with their time. Nothing much. Not one little thing. But when Matt laid back, his short shirt rode up a good few inches and this was f*cking killing Chris.
“I just want to be alone with you. It doesn't even need a game,” holy sh*t. Why was a simple sentence able to make him so unsettled? His breathing was heavy and his mouth was dry, his eyes lost in the exposed patch of skin around Matt's waist. Chris could see perfectly where his pants hugged his hips, with the hem of his underwear sticking out and his t-shirt pulled up to just above his navel.
“I want to, too,” Chris managed to get the words out through his parched throat, which burned as much as the conflicting sensation inside him. He wanted to see, at least a little bit more... So he turned sideways, sitting up and looking down at Matt, one hand resting on his side as the other had been before, analyzing his body from top to bottom with hungry eyes.
I’m sorry.
His hand moved without him realizing it, reaching into one of the loops in Matt's pants and hooking his index finger inside it. He could feel his brother's gaze on him, analyzing the side of his face partially covered by his long hair. He was very, very sorry, but this feeling was taking over him in such an overwhelming way that, by the time he came back to himself, his mind had gone too far.
Taking a deep breath and avoiding the eyes that followed him closely, Chris removed his finger from the loop only to place his hand on the hip in front of him. His large hand was carefully positioned on the pants, which were chilled by the wind, while only his thumb touched the warm skin he wanted so much. His index finger was stretched over the waistband of Matt's pants, his middle finger rested on the crease between his groin and the beginning of his thigh, while the other two remained partially on it. His eyes didn't stray from the scene in front of him, watching his brother's slender body appear so small only under his large palm.
Both brothers' breaths were ragged, coming out through parted lips in desperate puffs. The touch was so subtle, so natural, but oh, so f*cking wrong. Chris experimented moving his thumb, carefully stroking the protruding bone under his digit, hearing Matt make a low sound in the back of his throat.
His mind was empty. Empty of thoughts, empty of guilt, empty of morals, empty of God. Completely filled with the desire to know more about the needy body beneath him.
Without realizing it, Chris allowed his hand to venture further up, slowly dragging his cold palm over the warm flesh, which shivered with every millimeter he touched. His fingertips brushed part by part, lightly, calmly, without desperation, enjoying that wrong moment with everything he had inside him. Without looking into each other's eyes, Matt remained fixed on Chris's profile, analyzing his long eyelashes, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold and his jaw, with its characteristic sign on the side. Meanwhile, Chris kept his attention glued to the sinful path his trembling hands were taking over his brother's innocent body. He wanted to sin.
Tenderly, his hand moved up and up, as slowly as the breaths of air coming out of his dilated nostrils. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was clenched, his teeth pressed together, wishing that the flesh on the side of Matt's waist was between them, tearing the surface layer and releasing the red liquid in fillets. Chris wanted to have him completely, to possess him. Body, blood and soul. With desire squeezing him from the inside like a tight knot around his belly, Chris finally reached the other man's protruding, red nipple, subtly pushing the gifted shirt even higher. Matt, who had both hands flat on the floor of the noisy house, brought one of them up to run it through his own hair, pulling it back tightly, while the other tangled itself in the hem of the fabric that covered him and held it under his chin. He was allowing it.
Chris ran his thumb over the nipple, feeling it warm and hard under his touch. His mouth was arid, his breathing hadn't been regular for minutes and his eyes were stinging from not blinking for so long. He already felt on the edge of the cliff, but he knew he couldn't jump. But what if he got just a peek at what would be waiting for him down there if he jumped?
With that thought he squeezed the hard flesh between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure strong enough to sting but not to really hurt. “f*ck,” he heard his brother's voice for the first time in all those confusing minutes, slurred and restrained, whispered in the confines of that strange balcony, just for the two of them. Chris felt as if he were being pulled by the claws of the Devil himself, sinking its sharp nails into his heart and dragging him from the numb state he was in to the hottest layer of hell, where his guilt burned incessantly. The shock of the realization of the severity of what he was doing hit him hard, his eyes went wide and his hand retracted from the exposed body beside him in one swift movement, as if his brother's skin hurt to touch.
"I’m sorry. God, Matt, I’m so sorry,” he forced the words out desperately, his eyes zigzagging between random points on the roof, avoiding looking at the scene that had just mesmerized him. “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things…” Chris pleaded agonizingly, getting up from the floor in one agile movement and wiping his sweaty palms on the light jeans that covered his trembling thighs.
Chris felt Matt staring at him with wide eyes, startled by the sudden change in the situation around him. It was palpable how much the fierce rejection had affected him, and the tears reflecting from his frightened orbs were hurting Chris more than the chains of evil he felt binding around his lungs, forbidding him to breathe properly. He had corrupted his brother. Touched him in a dirty and sinful way, contaminating him with his unsolvable problems. It couldn't be too late, it couldn't. God will forgive them both. At least Matt. It wasn't fair that the poor boy should burn in the eternal fires of hell for the actions of his inconsequential brother.
“I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin,” he continued to plead, as he adjusted his co*ck in the elastic of his underwear, feeling his eyes fill with tears from the excess of simultaneous sensations. He couldn't hear much, everything seemed muffled around him, just as his eyes could only partially see when Matt pulled down his shirt and sat on the floor, looking down up at Chris.
"Stop praying, it was my fault. If anyone here has to martyr themselves, it's me,” Matt explained and Chris couldn't pay attention, his mind registering the slightest hint of his brother's voice taking the blame for something that would never have been his. “I already have my ways of apologizing to God, Chris, you don't have to do the same,” he continued, changing position and sitting back on his heels, placing one palm on his knee and the other on his left thigh. Jesus, he looked at him so needily, begging Chris to believe him. But he knew he couldn't. This was his fault and he would carry it with him until he died.
“In His name, my God, have mercy,” he concluded his prayer in a whisper as he looked down at Matt, his Air Forces identical to his brother's touching the other's bent knees, so close were they. Chris reached out and entwined his fingers in the chestnut hair below him, pulling it back and leaving Matt's forehead exposed. With a sob, he raised his free hand to his own tear-soaked lips and kissed his thumb, wetting it with a mess of saliva and tears. So, in an anguished attempt to cleanse his beloved Matt of the sin that had befallen him through the sickening touch of their skins in forbidden places, Chris trailed his slick finger over his forehead, making a line from left to right and then another on top of that, from top to bottom. “Amen.”
The sign of the cross.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he concluded and walked away, leaving his brother kneeling on the balcony of a boring and noisy party, opening the glass doors in frantic desperation and passing through the curtains, slipping into the crowd of drunk people again. He checked the time on his phone and realized that they still had another fifteen minutes before Marylou would show up to pick them up. He hoped it would be enough time to relieve all the sensations he was feeling in the bathroom of the party owner's suite.
