Folded Flag

Nick found me staring at the folded flag.

It had been there for a while, now, and most days I tried not to look at it. Tried not to remember. Today, though, that wasn't really an option, what with my mother having put it out in a place of honor where you had to see it, had to walk past it, rather than it sitting in its customary place on the mantel where I could pretend not to notice it.

"There you are," he said, walking over. "You are aware there's a family barbecue situation going on in the backyard, right? Your whole family. My whole family. Plus a couple of random passersby I think just want to mooch some free food."

I snorted. "Mom and Dad have plenty. They're welcome to mine, at any rate. I don't seem to have much of an appetite today."

Nick followed my gaze to the little pseudo-shrine my mother had set up around the flag and the photo beside it. He sighed, but it wasn't a judgmental, exasperated sort of sigh; more like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Yeah. I guess I could understand that." Stepping up behind me, he slid his arms around my waist and hooked his chin over my shoulder, wrapping around me like a friendly blanket. Supporting me like always. I found myself leaning against him. "You know what your brother would say if he saw you like this, though, don't you Chris?"

Letting out a breath of my own, I nodded. "Quit moping around, runt. The only person who comes to a pity party--"

"--is yourself," Nick finished with me. "And nobody likes to party alone."

I realized I was smiling, just a little. "Derek was always kind of a tool."

"Sure was," Nick agreed cheerfully. "Rarely wrong, though."

"Certainly not to hear him tell it."

Nick's laugh was brief, but sincere. Quietly, he said, "I miss him too."

"Yeah," I said, just as quietly. "I know."

"He bought us our first drink. Taught us how to work out. Made us get off our asses and actually get together, instead of pretending we were just best friends. All the time I spent here as a kid, he was basically my big brother too, you know?" He paused, then added, "I mean, assuming you disregard all the adolescent masturbatory fantasies I had about him."

"Gross."

"Hey, he was an older, more mature, more ripped version of you. Of course I had a crush on him."

"Thanks. More mental trauma was what I needed today."

He kissed my cheek. "Happy to help!" He chuckled at my grumble, his breath puffing into my ear. "I was serious before, you know."

"About jerking off to my brother? Unfortunately, I believe you."

"Not that. Well actually yes, that too, but I mean earlier. That he wouldn't want you going all broody about him like this."

"I am not broody," I insisted, broodily.

"You could hatch a nest of eggs with how broody you are."

I blinked. Then laughed. "Have we been reduced to poultry-based puns now? I weep for tomorrow."

I felt his grin against the side of my face. "Something else Derek always said: tomorrow is--"

"--tomorrow's problem," I finished reluctantly. "Yeah, yeah, carpe diem."

"He was very big on seizing the moment," Nick agreed. "Especially with girls. Sometimes with several girls at once."

"Certainly to hear him tell it," I said again, smirking despite myself.

"That gives me an idea, actually," Nick said.

"Oh dear."

He ignored me. "Instead of being all mopey and sad about him, let's remember him in a way he would appreciate." His hands, which had been looped loosely around my waist, began to move. Sliding over my stomach, and down to my waistband. Further. He pressed himself tighter against my back, pushing his groin against my ass.

I stiffened. No, not like that. Well, okay, a little bit like that. "Nick." I said, voice carefully neutral. "Are you suggesting that, to honor the memory of my dead brother, we go and fuck each other senseless with our families--and random passersby, apparently--right outside?" The worst part was, Nick was right. Derek would probably have found that hilarious.

"We're both eighteen," Nick said, his hands--damn them--never stopping. "It's the end of May. In a few weeks, we'll graduate. Then I start at the Fire & Rescue Training Center in August, and you leave for college right after." His voice dropped, becoming sorrowful. "We have so little time left together. Surely, Derek--who was all about seizing the moment and living life to the fullest--would want us to squeeze out every bit of joy we can." At the word 'squeeze,' he, well, squeezed, and oh God, that felt really good actually. Was I seriously considering this today, of all days? And when had he started kissing my neck?

I'm not sure which of us moved first, but somehow we were suddenly headed for the stairs, still tangled together, hands and mouths all over each other. We staggered our way down the hall to my bedroom, and with the door securely locked behind us, things really got started. Nick pulled my shirt off so fast my arms got tangled inside, and by the time I squirmed free he'd tossed his own to the floor.

My mouth found Nick's again, my breath already getting ragged as it mixed with his. He slid his hands down my body, found my waistband, and pushed it down, sending shorts and boxers to the floor in one motion. My erection popped free, and I groaned into Nick's mouth as he wrapped his hand around it. A single slow, squeezing stroke was all it took to have me thrusting into his hand, suddenly desperate for friction.

I felt his smile as he disengaged his mouth from mine and kissed his way down my torso until he was kneeling before me. Nick looked up, meeting my eyes through his lashes as he slowly ran his tongue up the length of my shaft. My eyes tried to roll back in my head, but I forced them to stay focused. I wanted to see. Nick wrapped his lips around the head of my cock and started playing his tongue against that incredible spot just beneath the head. I shuddered with the sheer feeling of it, gasping a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands found their way onto his head, tangling in his hair. Not pushing, merely guiding as he took more of my length into his mouth.

In our months together, neither of us had quite managed a full-on deep throat yet--though not for lack of trying--but Nick achieved one of his better performances and swallowed down about three-quarters of my shaft in one long, slow glide that had me sagging against the door to keep my knees from buckling. I choked back the yell that tried to come out and managed to squash it down to a guttural sound in the back of my throat, one that hopefully wouldn't carry to anyone outside. Nick just smirked all the more, clearly enjoying my reaction.

Secure in his accomplishment, Nick started to bob his head, moving slowly at first then faster and faster. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he pulled his mouth off me. Meeting my eyes, he ran his tongue up his finger, sucked it into his mouth a few times until it was well coated in saliva, then reached between my legs. Nick took my erection back into his mouth as his spit-slick finger sought and found my asshole. He rubbed little circles around the rim, transferring saliva, and then swallowed me deep into his throat as he slid the first segment of his finger inside me.

The noise that came out of me was...extreme.

I don't know how I didn't come immediately. Nick probably expected me to; to be honest, so did I. My balls churned, the pressure that had been steadily building spiking higher, but I clamped down and managed, barely, to keep from blowing right then. Nick, of course, took that as a challenge. He picked up the pace of his sucking again, and this time that damnable finger set to work too. Even as his head bobbed faster and faster, his finger moved inside me, caressing my inner walls and gradually pressing in deeper.

When he found my prostate, I knew it was over. Pleasure roared up my spine and swamped my brain as I tipped over the edge. Distantly I was aware of my hands clenching convulsively on Nick's head, pulling his mouth farther onto my cock as I pumped my load down his throat, but I couldn't really connect to the concept with my brain overloading. I think I was making sounds--I was probably making a lot of sounds--but I couldn't say what they were. Every stroke of his finger on that magical spot, every swirl of his tongue ratcheted my climax up another notch.

Eventually, I came back to myself. Nick was still sucking away, milking out every drop he could squeeze from my still-hard (though increasingly oversensitive) cock. Somehow he'd gotten a second finger inside me, though I've no idea when or how. They gently moved in and out, scissoring apart to stretch me open. His own erection strained up from between his legs, flushed and twitching, and if his fingers were any indication, I knew what he intended to do with it.

I pulled Nick's mouth off my cock, the sensation getting too intense. He grinned up at me, licking his lips--though I doubt so much as a drop escaped--and pushed his fingers deeper into me. Arching my back, I reflexively widened my stance, opening up for him, and he took full advantage, thrusting his fingers in and out. Every hit to my prostate made my cock twitch and ache.

"I think we should move to the bed," said Nick, corkscrewing his fingers inside me. "What do you think, Chris?" We'd been gone from the party for a while already, and someone was bound to notice our absence...on the other hand, his fingers were stroking my gland again and most of my brain was just yelling "fuck me, fuck me" on repeat.

Needless to say, we moved to the bed.

I kept actual lube in the nightstand, and soon his fingers were back inside me, now thoroughly lubricated. I lay on my back on my bed, knees pulled up to my chest, with Nick kneeling over me, hand never stopping. A third finger soon joined the first two, stretching me open as they slid in and out. My cock, never given the chance to soften, was drooling onto my stomach already, each thrust of his fingers squeezing a bead of fluid from the tip.

Clearly unable to wait any longer, Nick grabbed the lube again and slicked himself up with a few slow strokes. Sliding into position above me, he braced his muscled arms on the bed and lined up with my hole. Nick's cock is thick, and despite all the finger work to open me up there was a noticeable burn when he pushed his way inside. He went gently, though, working his way in slowly. He'd push an inch forward, wait a moment, slide half an inch back, then repeat, gradually penetrating deeper and deeper. I breathed my way through it, gasping in a breath with each thrust and exhaling as he withdrew.

Finally, he was buried to the root in me, his hips pressed flush to my ass and his face just above my own. Nick smiled, not his usual wicked grin but a surprisingly tender expression.

"I love you, Chris," he said. It wasn't the first time those words had been spoken, but the look in his eyes--and the feel of his cock--stole my breath.

"I love you, too," I panted, wrapping my arms around his torso, gently urging him to move. I didn't want a heartfelt conversation, I wanted him to fuck me until I couldn't think. The whole point of this was to keep me from having a meltdown.

But Nick still didn't move. Didn't thrust. Buried to the hilt inside me, face inches from mine, lean body pressed against me in all the best ways, too many things I didn't want to think about, and he still wouldn't MOVE.

"I want you to be happy," he said, still in that weirdly gentle but serious tone. "And so would he."

Something tore loose inside me. I don't know why those words did it. I hadn't cried when somber men in uniforms appeared on our doorstep. I hadn't cried at the funeral, when they handed my mother that fucking flag. I hadn't even cried later, alone in my room in the dark, with the world gone suddenly cold and empty. Whatever the reason, suddenly I was sobbing, tears pouring from my eyes as I clutched Nick tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him, face pressed to his shoulder. He stayed right where he was, even stayed hard the whole time, like he wanted to support me inside and out. It took a while, but eventually I burned through the massive dam of guilt and grief that had built up in my heart, walling me off from the world.

So that, of course, is when the bastard finally started thrusting.

Just as I was getting control of myself again, feeling wrung out but somehow lighter, Nick met my eyes, grinned that damnable, wonderful grin of his, and rolled his hips. His cock slid out and back in, hitting all the right places, and my body thrummed with the sudden burst of pleasure. I scowled but clutched him tighter, pulling him harder into me as his thrusting sped up.

Nick reared up a bit, our conjoined bodies forming a right angle instead of being pressed together. He moved a hand behind his back, though from my position I couldn't see what he was doing with it. Probably trying to push himself into me harder. His thrusting certainly intensified, the muscles of his stomach rippling in mesmerizing waves, his hips slapping audibly against my ass.

His arm moved again, and Nick groaned, eyes rolling up and his steady thrusting stuttering for a moment. "Damn, that's good," he panted, still apparently unable to focus his eyes. That one hand was moving faster, almost matching the pace of his increasingly erratic thrusting. His other hand was clenched on my leg, holding it up over his shoulder. "Not sure...mmm...I can hold it any more..."

Was he...? No, couldn't be. Nick was an avowed top; the one time he'd let me fuck him--as much as I'd enjoyed it and wanted more--he'd complained the whole time. He'd never let me near his ass since. Sure looked like that policy had changed, though, from the way his hand was positioned.

Nick's thrusting reached a fever pitch, faster and harder than ever. All at once, he slammed into me, cock buried to the root, and shuddered out a groan. His whole body locked up, every muscle standing out--except for his left arm, still moving rapidly behind him. I felt his cock pulse inside me, again and again as he pumped out his load deep inside me.

Breathing hard, he pulled out. He drew back a bit, lowered my legs to the bed, and then--to my shock--slid forward until he was straddling me. Without my legs in the way, I could clearly see his two lubed fingers still sliding in and out of his previously untouchable hole. A bead of leftover semen welled from the tip of his cock and dripped onto mine, hard and drooling across my stomach. Nick pulled his fingers out with a gasp, wrapped them around my shaft, and gave it a slow stroke, spreading lube and his own come all over my cock. Meeting my eyes, he lifted my erection, lined himself up, and slid onto it, groaning as the head popped through.

I very nearly came again.

Slowly--so slowly it was basically torture--Nick worked his way down, muscular thighs trembling and chest heaving. He was so tight. So warm inside. My hands wandered up to his hips, trying to support him, help him maintain balance. A pale echo of what he'd just done for me. About halfway down the shaft, Nick paused, eyes closed, just breathing. I didn't move. Didn't dare speak. After an eternally long moment, he pulled back up. I thought he'd decided against this, changed his mind, but when he got most of the way off my cock, with just the head left inside, he abruptly shoved himself back down, taking the whole thing at once.

Nick choked back a cry. I didn't; I just yelled. My cock isn't as thick as Nick's, but it's not small, and that had to have hurt him. It felt incredible for me, of course, having the slick heat of him wrapped all around me like that. Being buried inside him as deep as I could go. He gasped a few breaths, met my eyes again, and flexed his legs so he would rise and fall again. Groaning his name, I clenched my hands on his hips, helping lift him and then dragging him down even harder, faster and faster, again and again. His ass slapped against my thighs. His still hard, still dripping cock bounced off my stomach, his balls swinging wildly as he furiously fucked himself.

The smells of sweat and sex and lube filled the room. We weren't even trying to be quiet any longer, half the neighborhood could probably hear us. It was breathtaking, watching my beautiful Nick slide up and down my length, every muscle rippling with the effort. And yet, I realized I wanted more than to just lie there and experience this. Nick preferred being on top, being in control, but he'd done enough for me already. I wanted him to feel as safe and protected as I had with him inside me.

Also, I wanted to fuck him until he screamed my name and begged for more. If this was the only chance I'd get--he might never let me do this again--I was going to make it count.

Sliding my arms under his legs, I scooped him up and rolled us over, keeping myself buried inside him all the while. With his eyes half closed, seemingly lost in the fuck, Nick was completely unprepared and flopped helplessly to the bed beneath me. I grabbed his knees, pushing his legs back until his hips curled up off the bed. Now I was thrusting down almost as much as forward, and with gravity's aid I started really pounding into him, the angle ensuring I hit his prostate with every thrust.

Shocked and breathless, Nick braced one hand on the headboard to keep himself from getting fucked through the wall. He grabbed my ass with his other hand, yanking me into him even harder. Each thrust forced a noise out of his lungs, staccato "ah! ah!" sounds that echoed off the walls with the wet slapping of my hips against his ass.

I let go of his leg with one hand and seized his cock, slick with lube, streaked with come, and hard as ever despite his orgasm barely ten minutes ago. "Fuuuck," he groaned, writhing as I stroked him. I wanted him to feel it, all of it, to be overwhelmed by the gratitude and even joy I was trying to push into him with every thrust. My brother was still gone, would always be gone, but at least I had Nick, and I wanted him to understand how much I valued not feeling so alone.

I suppose talking might have done that more efficiently, but I've never been the most articulate.

I picked up the pace again, using my whole length in every thrust. Pulling back until the ridge of my cockhead pulled at the rim of his hole, I'd slam back down to the root, giving his cock a hard squeezing stroke at the same time. My balls swung against his ass with each revolution, little spikes of sensation adding yet another note to the chorus of bliss blasting through my body.

"Shit...ah!...Chris...yes, fuck!"

Nick, always so smoothly confident, so sure of himself and his place in the world--all things I emphatically was not--was reduced to babbling nonsense between gasps of ecstasy. I'd never let him live this down. I would also try to incite this state as often as possible; he'd never seemed so gorgeous.

Finally, I couldn't go on. My balls were boiling, my lungs were burning, and Nick was a shuddering, writhing wreck. Plunging in as deep as I could, I let go and poured my load into him. My second orgasm of the day was even more overwhelming than the first, sending waves of pleasure up my spine to inundate my brain before washing back out across my limbs. I'm told that the noise I made wasn't even recognizable as human. I kept thrusting through it all, in a shuddering, spasmodic way, still stroking Nick until I was recovered enough to notice that he'd come too at some point, his second load streaking his abs and chest.

Chest heaving, soaked in sweat and aching pleasantly all over, I collapsed onto the bed next to Nick.

"You know," he said mildly, once we'd more or less gotten our breathing under control, "there are a bunch of people outside who are probably wondering why a bear just died inside the house."

"Fuck you," I said, not opening my eyes.