Fucked Up Reunion Ch 02

Hello, it's been so long so here's an update of my work. Hope you like it. Just a discretion though, there's cheating involved in this chapter.

~AL

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Everything was a blur. I couldn't even remember sitting down. One moment, I was standing by the front door, and the next, I was at the dining table with them.

"Look at you two," Mom said, smiling like this was some Hallmark reunion. "You must've been so thrilled to see each other again."

Thrilled? I almost let out a snort. You have no idea.

I'm pretty sure they'd toss me out again if they knew what went down last night.

"Mason." She turned to him, expectant. "Do you have something to say to Kaiden?"

Mason was still stunned. Took him a beat to get it together, then he cleared his throat.

"H-hey, Kai. It's been a long time." His eyes flicked anywhere but at me.

I nodded. Talk about a sick twist of fate.

"Yeah. Long time," I mumbled.

Mom's smile wavered. She let out this awkward little laugh.

"That's it?" She looked between us, trying too hard. "Come on, boys. It's been eight years. Surely there's more to say. Don't be shy now."

I curled my fingers into a fist under the table. Mason shifted tryna stay composed but I knew he could feel the weirdness of this too.

"You look... different," he said finally, eyes landing on mine for half a second. "Didn't even recognize you."

His tone was a bit gritty, yet, those familiar eyes boded familiar tingles down my spine.

"You too," I muttered. "Beard threw me off."

He rubbed at the scruff on his jaw and went quiet again.

Mom (Catherine--yeah, let's just call her that) clapped her hands together like we'd just hugged it out. Clueless to what our conversation was really about.

"See? That's better."

She then started rambling about how Mason and I 'must've just missed each other', all sunshine and delusion. I just rolled my eyes and tuned her out like background noise.

Meanwhile, Michael (aka the sperm donor) stayed silent, as usual. I'd almost forgotten he was even here.

I glanced back to Mason and caught him already staring at me. Our eyes met for a split second before he looked away, clenching his jaw and frowning like I like I was the one who'd wronged him.

Fucking hypocrite. He was so deep in the closet, he probably reached Narnia by now.

The whole day dragged and felt awkward as fuck.

The tension was palpable yet the couple were blissfully unaware.

They chatted about holiday plans, and Mason smiled and chuckled along like nothing was off. But me? I just sat there like I'd rather jump on a canyon than listen to them.

When the sun finally set, Mason rose from his seat.

"I should probably head out, Mom, Dad. It's getting late."

Catherine immediately stopped him.

"Stay for dinner, honey. It's been so long since we were all together."

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

"Yeah, son," Michael added. "Let's all eat together. Like a family."

Family? The word sounded foreign and made me wanna vomit.

Mason looked torn.

"Maybe next time. I'm still technically on standby. Harold's been pinging me all morning about a possible call-in."

Standby? Call-in? Is he military or something?

"But it's already late. Can that wait for tomorrow?" Catherine pushed.

"Can't, Mom. It's kinda urgent."

The folks insisted but Mason had a knock for convincing others with shitty excuses. In the end they'd let him go. He said his goodbye to everyone. Well, except me of course.

I shouldn't care about it but something inside me pricked.

The second he was gone, I went upstairs and locked myself in my old room. My bags were put on a corner. Glad they didn't throw it out, like they did to me.

I flopped down onto the bed, replaying everything that had happened last night. I couldn't believe Jack was my brother, Mason.

I twisted and turned, burying my face on the pillow, trying to sleep it off. But images of him popped up whenever I close my eyes, his sweat running down his sculpted body, his monster cock pounding me. I could still smell him, his heady musk, his arousing masculine scent.

Damnit. He was so fuckin' hot. So wild last night.

My hand unconsciously slipped inside my pants, down to my ass, just to check. My hole was still swollen, and aching. I pushed a finger inside. Some of his sticky cum leaked out. He pumped so much, and so deep, that it was hard getting them all out.

Fuck. I knew I shouldn't be doing this. But the memory was making me incredibly horny.

I unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants. My cock was already rock hard, drooling with precum. I spat on my hand, wrapped it around my shaft, and started jacking off while finger-fucking myself.

I closed my eyes, imagining it was him slamming into me. I added another finger, stretching myself wider, but it wasn't enough. Mason's cock was thicker and way bigger.

God. I should've felt sick, disgusted, that it happened. But I wasn't. I wasn't repulsed. It was the hottest sex I'd ever had. It was raw, filthy, and mind-blowing.

My cock throbbed with need, I stroked faster, precum splattering everywhere. My balls tightened, and it didn't take long before I came hard, biting the pillow to keep me from groaning his name like a desperate little slut.

I caught my breath, looked down at my cum-stained abs, and slumped back. Fuck. This wasn't enough. I wanted the real thing.

***

The next three days flew by. Mason had been avoiding me, but he'd been around, helping Michael with the damn Christmas decorations like the perfect son he was. But he hadn't stayed the night. No. Not once since I came back.

Catherine, kept telling him to stay over, but he always refused. I'd bet he'd rather go back to his apartment to fuck some guys, than to be on the same roof as me.

It pissed me off just thinking about it.

Sunday came around. I woke up late, around ten. Not surprising, considering I barely got any sleep. Again. Doing my...nightly ritual. The house was too damn quiet, but the second I went downstairs, I heard laughter coming from outside.

I peeked through the blinds and saw them hanging Christmas decorations like one big ole' happy family.

I felt a pang in my chest at the sight. I should've been used to it by now. Hell, for eight years, I was fine on my own. Freaking fine.

Another burst of laughter grated my ears. I turned around and walked towards the kitchen. Made myself some coffee. Bitter like my soul.

A few minutes later, I was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee like I was royalty. The peace was suddenly cut short, when the front door swung open.

"You boys continue. I'll go make lunch."

"Oh, hi, sweetie. Good morning." Catherine greeted me when she saw me.

I just nodded and took another sip of my coffee. She let out a sigh and disappeared into the kitchen.

Michael and Mason wrestled the Christmas tree inside, their jackets dusted with snow. Mason's biceps bulged under the weight as he carried more than his share. He glanced up, our eyes meeting for a split second before he quickly looked away.

"Hold it steady," Michael muttered.

"Kai, you wanna give us a hand?" He looked at me expectantly, like I was just dying to help.

I snorted. "No."

Mason's jaw tightened, clearly pissed by my attitude, but Michael just accepted it. For a patient he sure kept doing unnecessary things.

They went back to adjusting the tree--shifting it an inch to the left, then back again. The scent of pine filled the house, blending with the buttery warmth of whatever Catherine was cooking.

By the time I set my mug down, they had managed to make the tree look at least somewhat presentable.

"Alright, boys, lunch is ready! Come eat before it gets cold," Catherine called.

Michael and Mason took one last look at their work before heading to the kitchen. I followed, slower, taking my time.

No one said much as we all sat around the table. The sound of forks scraping over plates filled the room along with the faint backdrop of Christmas music.

After a while, Catherine cleared her throat.

"Kai, I thought we could go Christmas shopping later. Just the two of us. It might be nice."

I stared down at my plate, poking at the food I'd barely touched. "No, thanks."

"Oh," she said softly, eyes flickering downward, disappointed. She exchanged a brief glance with Michael, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Hey, Kai," Michael tried gently, "Maybe you could help me and Mason finish decorating later. We could use an extra pair of hands."

I scoffed. "I'll pass."

Mason suddenly slammed his fork down. "Why are being so difficult Kaiden? Dad's sick. Can you not just--cut them some slack? They're just trying, you know?"

I raised my eyes slowly, meeting his glare. "Me? Difficult? You think some illness rewrites the past? That it just erases everything? They can try all they want--they're eight years too late for anything."

Mason's knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table. "They just wanna make things right. Can't you give them one goddamn chance?"

I snorted bitterly. "Chance? Did I get a chance when I came out? Fucking hypocrites, the lot of you. I was kicked out into the streets, left to survive on my own for fucking eight years and you think I'm just being goddamn petty?"

I looked at all of them. No one moved.

"I was alone. Starving. Freezing at night. Not one of you here offered any lifeline. You people left me to die," I growled, then my gaze landed back to Mason. "So save your lecture to yourself. You're no fuckin' better."

The silence after felt like drowning. Catherine stared at her plate, face pale. Michael looked stunned, hurt even. I guess they could still feel something. Mason expression was remorseful, his mouth opening but not a word came out.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Catherine stood quickly.

"I'll go get it."

She wiped her hands nervously on a dish towel, moving toward the door. Everyone seemed to lost their appetite. Well, who wouldn't?

"Oh my god--Ethan! Is that you?" Catherine suddenly gushed at the front door.

All eyes turned to the entryway.

A familiar guy was standing at the front door holding something in his hands.

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson. My mom sent this over for you," he said, lifting a dish.

"Oh, she's too kind." Catherine took it, pleased. She's way too fickle. "Come in, it's freezing out."

He stepped inside, shaking the snow from his coat.

"How are you, Ethan? You're back."

Wait. Ethan?

Ethan Svenson? It suddenly clicked.

If there was another outcast in high school aside from me, it was him. He hadn't changed much. Still scrawny, still weird. Still wearing glasses. He used to tutor Mason way back in high school since his mom and Catherine knew each other, and they lived just across the street.

"I'm doing fine, Mrs. Wilson."

"Hey, Mr. Wilson," he greeted Michael, who gave him a nod.

His gaze landed on Mason and lingered a tad bit longer.

"Hey," he said.

Mason nodded and looked down on his plate.

"Your mom said you're a doctor now! How's work?" Catherine cut in.

Ethan shifted awkwardly. "Uh--it's good. Stressful. But it pays well."

Catherine beamed. "Oh! You remember Mason and Kai, right?"

His eyes flicked to me, giving me a quick smile. Then back to Mason.

"Yeah. I remember."

Ok, now this is seriously weird.

"Well, I should be going, Mrs. Wilson. I only dropped by to give you that--and this too."

He handed an expensive looking gift bag to Catherine, who happily accepted it.

"Oh wow, Ethan. This looks expensive," she smiled, touched. "Please join us for lunch before you go."

"Yeah, son. Have a seat." Michael chimed in.

Ethan shook his head. "No, it's okay, Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson. I already ate."

Catherine looked like she wanted to insist.

"It's really fine, Mrs. Wilson. I've got somewhere I need to be anyway," he assured.

"Ok, well take care of yourself," she said, giving up.

He smiled and glanced back to Mason who barely moved. He waved at everyone then head out. The door shut behind him.

"That man was always so busy." Catherine sighed, walking back to the dining table. "I'm pretty sure girls are lining up for him."

I rolled my eyes. She was really crazy. The dude was sketchy as fuck.

She dug into whatever he'd brought, humming with approval. Every now and then, she'd toss out another comment about how well he's doing. How proud his parents must be. Blah blah blah.

I swear, I was about to flip the freakin' table.

I didn't even get to finish high school--not after their holier-than-thou asses kicked me out at eighteen. And now I'm supposed to sit here and listen while they gush over someone else's kid? Please. Might as well broadcast it to the whole fucking neighborhood.

The fucking audacity.

I regretted ever coming back to this stupid dump.

---

The next day, the bigots went to church. Maybe to seek redemption or something. Hypocrites at its finest.

I stood by the window, sipping my coffee, pretending to watch the world outside. Truth was, my eyes were glued to the guy shoveling snow in the driveway.

Mason.

He had a new haircut and his beard was gone. Like scrubbing off the past could erase the shit we did. Still, credit where it's due. He looked stupidly hot. Always did. But now, without the beard, his features were sharper. Deep blue eyes, straight nose, full lips, that jawline like it was carved from stone.

He was almost done clearing the snow when suddenly Ethan appeared and walked up behind him.

Mason tensed up when he saw him. Ethan on the other hand, was beaming. He started talking to him, gesturing nervously at their house across the street.

Mason glanced at ours. I jerked back from the window, hiding myself behind the curtain. Then peeked again. He nodded and followed Ethan across the street.

I frowned. The Stevensons had left over an hour ago. I watched them drive off with Catherine and Michael. So why the hell would Mason go over there?

I paced my room, the coffee growing cold in my hand. Then I slammed the mug onto my desk.

It wasn't my business. I knew that. But still, the dude was sketchy.

Fuck it. I grabbed my jacket and went downstairs, slipping outside. The cold bit at my skin as I crossed the street.

When I reached Stevenson's front porch, my hand hovered over the door, ready to knock. But I hesitated. What the fuck would I say anyway?

I noticed the door wasn't even shut properly. It was cracked open slightly. Slowly, I pushed the door open and silently stepped inside.

The house was dead quiet. Too damn quiet.

Except for this soft, muffled noise floating from upstairs. Something twisted in my gut. I moved forward carefully, climbing the stairs.

I followed the sound like I was sleepwalking. It led me straight to a closed bedroom door. I stopped right in front of it. The noise was clearer now--moaning, breathy, not exactly subtle. What the actual fuck?

My hands hovered shakily on the handle, hesitating. I opened it slightly and peeked through the narrow gap.

My stomach dropped on what I saw.

Mason stood shirtless, towering over Ethan--who was on his knees in front of him.

The room was filled with wet slurping noises and Ethan's muffled moans.

"I missed this. I missed you, Mason," Ethan pulled back, gasping. "Dreamed about tasting you again for so long."

Mason said nothing. Just tilted his head and shut his eyes.

Ethan stroked him. "You're so big, Daddy. More than I can remember. I can't even swallow the whole thing in."

He reached up, one hand feeling Mason's packed abs and the other still on his cock.

"You're so hot, Mason. Do you remember our first time?" Ethan rasped, jacking him faster. "After tutoring, you told me to kneel and suck you off--God, I loved it."

My hand tightened on the doorknob. Mason's jaw clenched, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

He nuzzeld against him, breathing him in. "You smell so good. I think about you every night. P--Please, Daddy. Fuck me--I need you so bad. I need you to fill me up, breed me like before."

Mason lets out a low growl, hips thrusted forward, choking Ethan. He gripped his hair slamming deep.

"Glokkkk--" Ethan gagged, fingernails digging into Mason's thighs.

Mason's thrusts grew punishing, fucking Ethan's face without mercy. Ethan's tears streamed down his cheeks, but he keeps taking it, keeps begging for more.

The floor creaked on my feet.

Mason's eyes snapped past him and locked directly onto mine. Ethan appeared to be unaware as he was busy gobbling his favorite meal.

Mason's thrust faltered. His eyes widened but he didn't say a word. Didn't stop Ethan either.

I turned sharply. Went down the stairs and walked out as quietly but just as fast.

I basically ran across the street, into the house, and up to my room. I shut the door hard behind me, leaning against it heavily. My pulse throbbed in my ears, anger and hurt swirling bitterly inside me.

Hurt? Why the hell would I feel that? It wasn't my fucking business where he shoved his cock in. He can do what he wants. He was just my freakin' brother.

I watched as the snow fell outside my window. I didn't know how long I stayed in my room. Minutes? Hours? I didn't care. I still felt weird.

It was starting to get dark outside when I heard the front door swung open. Laughter and chatter filling the house. The bigots were back and...so was Mason.

The earlier scene kept popping in my head. Did they go at it the whole day? I chuckled to myself. My mind wouldn't shut up about it.

I stood up, needing to get out of this goddamn house.

I headed downstairs hurriedly. They were gathered around, laughing at something stupid, I'm sure. I was halfway down when Mason looked up and our eyes locked onto each other. His smile wavered and he looked away.

"Kai, sweetie, dinner's almost ready," Catherine said gently. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm going out," I muttered, going down.

"What? Wait--" she called, but I was already at the door, shutting it behind me, cutting her off.

The cold air hit me hard, but it still wasn't enough to clear my head. I needed to feel something, anything, that wasn't this knot of shame and confusion twisting in my chest.

I hailed a cab and directed it to the same shitty bar I met Mason.

The taxi stopped at the place. It still looked grimy and sketchy. I tipped the driver and stepped out.

The neon lights buzzed low as I walked in. Music thumped loudly in my ears, the air thick with sweat and booze. Every corner of the place still reeked of bad decisions.

But it was exactly what I needed.

My eyes scanned the crowd and found just the right distraction. Just the person I was looking for.

Cowboy Hat.

He leaned casually against the wall like he owned the place, drink in hand, half-smirking and chatting with some sleazy twink who was desperately flirting back.

I didn't care. Didn't hesitate.

I walked straight over, grabbed him roughly by the collar, and kissed him--hard.

Cowboy Hat made a startled noise against my mouth, stiffening for half a second, until his free hand slid around my waist, gripping tight and pulling me closer.

Good. Would've been really fucking embarrassing if he'd pushed me away.

"What the actual fuck?" sleazy guy snapped, shoving me from behind. But I didn't mind him.

Cowboy Hat seemed to have forgotten about him or maybe just didn't care. My hands threaded his hair and he smirked against my mouth. Our tongues tangled with each other as we made out.

I pulled away, a strand of saliva stretching between us.

"Come with me." I grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the bar, leaving the fuming guy behind, still throwing curses.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Damn, you're bold. Ain't gonna ask my name gorgeous?"

"Don't care. You're gonna lie about it anyway," I replied. Like someone I knew.