***Story features gay incest***
By age 25, Levi was tired of his parents treating him like a child. He might have cerebral palsy, but he was an adult god damn it. He needed more independence.
His older brother, Jude, rented an apartment downtown, only ten miles away, Levi reassured his parents. His big brother would be there and could help him.
Their parents' behavior had pushed Jude away too, always meddling, weekly blind dates, church activities, unexpected prospect suiters masquerading as dinner guests. There was scarcely a free moment for yourself, privacy limited to bathroom, bedtime.
Once Jude tasted what it was like away from home during the war, he couldn't go back. Life as a soldier was like home save for pressure to marry: never, and intimacy with men: frequent.
Upon release, Jude moved to the big city where he made friends downtown. He discovered the nightlife and the gay bar.
Times were different. If someone you knew saw you at, or even near the bar, you could lose everything. Though, as a hired construction hand, Jude had little to lose in the way of income, but starting over in a new place was a last resort. People suspected newcomers. You'd have to lie low for years before getting your foot into the gay scene again.
Then there was the constant Spector of assault. Groups of men dealing out beatings. The police looked the other way; in their mind, we deserved worse than we got, or law would give.
Cruising spots were less dangerous. On a handful of weekends, Jude mustered the courage to go to the bar. He wore a hat and a thick collared coat to cover his straight wheat-blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes.
By the time Levi moved in, Jude had given a single blowjob since his service overseas.
Still, Jude underestimated how much he missed his little brother. Plus, with Levi, their parents helped with rent, giving Jude's tight budget a slight stretch. It meant more showers at the local bathhouse, and maybe a trip to the tavern.
Levi loved to read philosophy, and Jude listened, scribbling and sketching. The piles of paper spread across the small round linoleum table, some falling to the floor.
Lacking the means, physicality, and social acceptance needed to do much more than sit at home. The words of new philosophers roused hope in the long hours Levi spent alone. At least Jude's return each day was something to look forward to. A welcome change from their parent's home, mother and her judging eyes. She was not above scolding and lecturing her sons for pleasing themselves.
Levi glanced up from Beauvoir and furrowed his brow. "Why do you draw so many men?"
"It's the same one." Jude hooked his tongue over his lip. "Tryin' to get him right."
Levi blinked. "Why not a woman?"
Jude rubbed the lead tip against the paper. "Done studies of women. Doin' a man now."
Levi surveyed the series of sketches avalanching onto the floor, all men, muscular, without a shred of clothing. He returned to his study, pushing the images out. He read, "To deny love is to refuse oneself to admit the full transcendence of the other, and to do this is to impoverish one's own existence."
Levi's eyes burned, his throat tightened as he pictured his lonely abyss stretching from birth to death, and, if the Father's words were to be trusted, longer still. It was extra hard on nights when Jude would leave with friends and stay out late. As much as he loathed to admit it, he needed some care and support.
Like anyone who's received care from another, Levi had incidental intimate contact with his mom, dad, doctors, and brother. But none of them touched to bring him pleasure. He wasn't supposed to think such things, but he imagined another man's mouth on his shaft. Still, he believed as much as anything, it'd never happen. No one wanted him. No one would ever want him.
After years steeped in the injustice of it all, Levi soured on the idea of a god. If he existed, he was cruel both in this life and the next. Why would he have just as much red-blooded desire as any man, but not the respect or position to act on it?
Twice a week, after dinner, Jude gave his younger brother a sponge bath, and on Saturday evenings they visited the public bathhouse. Levi walked, clinging to his brother's brawny arm.
The bathhouse was busiest on Saturday nights. The place clamored with the spray of water, echoing voices and laughter. One man noticed them and pointed. He laughed at Levi, encouraging his friends to join. Jude stomped over to the man and pushed him. When the man tried to push back, Jude threw him to the floor. After Jude beat the man bloody, everyone was content with the occasional stare.
Jude took every limited opportunity to peek at all the others' bodies, but Levi gave himself a pass. He was different. They all could see it, so he leered at anyone he pleased. But Jude, whose physique and proportions rung ideal to Levi, drew his eyes most. Lean skin clung tight to his muscular body with hairy forearms, chest and calves, while his biceps, shoulders, and thighs were silk smooth, unblemished. A thin line of hair fell from the center of his chest, eventually blending into the pubes, crowning his swinging cock.
Jude washed himself first, dirt and grime caking his exposed skin. His thorough wash started first with his hair, then face, followed by neck and forearms, progressing to untanned, seldom seen skin, the pattern of short, light brown hair surrounding his groin, then, finally, the dick itself. After a good rinse, Jude helped Levi.
The younger brother sat on a stool and followed Jude's lathering rhythm with bated breath. Unlike their parents, Jude reliably grazed Levi's shaft and balls.
Growing up, Levi tried to sort things so his brother bathed him. He usually failed and rarely followed through, worried they'd grow suspicious.
At the bathhouse, whenever he caught Jude a bit aroused, Levi touched and groped.
Jude chuckled. "Don't tease."
Levi's skin burned when his brother spoke to him that way, like he was a child.
***
During the day, while Jude worked, Levi had little more to do than read, eat, watch people from the window, and please himself. A heavily stained rag served for cleanup, which Jude dutifully handwashed among the rest of their clothes every other week.
Levi stoked himself more than usual before one of their usual Saturday showers, hoping it'd help him from getting too aroused.
***
Jude did more than graze one night, washing it thoroughly.
Jude hummed, "Must take after Mom's side."
Levi turned to Jude's face, eyes round.
Jude blushed, attention on the task. "Mine's like Pop's."
Levi's brows lowered.
When had he seen Pop's? Was it true?
Levi's was superior to his brother in both length and girth, one of few points of pride.
People knew even less about what might be normal or desirable in those days. Levi wondered if one's penis would shrink over time, reversing the trend of youth. Still, when Levi examined the older men, he concluded they were either massive as young men or kept their shape and size. Levi basked in the thought that he might always have this over his older brother.
After the bathhouse, Jude's usual engaging demeanor quieted. Single-word answers and grunts displaced thoughtful commentary.
Levi ached to continue their brief chat in the showers. Why had Jude washed him more thoroughly than usual? When had he seen Pop naked? And what aroused him in the showers?
Levi stretched his neck for a view of Jude's drawing. "Same study?"
Jude grunted. He focused on the black-and-white image, the edge of his hand already shadowed with lead.
"Very nice looking." Levi stared at his brother's forehead, hoping to meet his eyes.
Jude scribbled and scratched. "Bit too--uh, tryin'--" he rubbed his finger on the paper, smudging the lines. "Tryin' to give him a bit more--life."
"Looks pretty
alive
." Levi adjusted in his chair.
Jude chuckled. "Yeah, most don't draw--," He hemmed. "Drawing's just for me--uh, wouldn't be able to sell."
Levi's eyes darted between some random spot and Jude's lowered face.
A quiet filled the room.
Jude squinted at the sketch on the paper. "Michelangelo's David is, uh, the line, ya know? Anything more is just--" He trailed off.
Levi nodded. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "But if I had the money, I'd, uh, I'd buy it."
Finally, Jude met Levi's eyes, his smile quivering.
***
Jude helped Levi to bed as usual.
Later, Jude declined visiting friends' invitation to go out.
The flickering golden glow of an old kerosene lamp whispered as Levi drifted to
sleep.
***
Refreshed, Levi blinked and stretched. The scent of scrambled eggs wafted through the quiet apartment. Vision blurred, Levi rubbed his eyes. He stood, a white shape on the wall snatched his attention. Jude's finished drawing hung by a pushpin.
"Jude?" Levi turned to the wind-up clock.
Left for work at least twenty minutes ago.
Less than a foot from where it hung, Levi appreciated the picture, arousal tightening in his lower gut.
The sketch was hyper-realistic. Under a spout of water, peaking through drenched hair, the illustrated man's eyes followed Levi, hips and legs in profile, chest twisting toward the viewer. Smooth, rounding skin over his intricate sinew highlighted with the dark renderings of shadow. His hands lathered an upper thigh behind the arch of a glorious endowment.
Even when not visible and after multiple satiations, the drawing dominated Levi's mind. They both clearly appreciated the male form, but did Jude's extend beyond art, as Levi's did?
Levi was the younger brother. Why couldn't Jude help him make sense of all this? What if Levi shared his secret and Jude kicked him out? Would he tell their parents? Where would Levi go? How would he survive? If his parents found out, would they let him go back? Would he even want to?
Levi's stomach tightened. Nausea flooded his body. He held a hand over his mouth, fumbled with the front-door bolts, and stumbled into the hallway. His skin ignited, hobbling to the restroom. He squeezed through the door and dove into a stall, retching over and over until nothing but bile dripped from his lips.
Breath heavy, he held the bowl and rested his head on the seat, stifling bitter sobs.
Levi wiped his chin, negotiating with the stall walls to climb back to his feet. At the sink, he splashed water on his face and cleaned up, drying with his shirt. He scowled at his reflection. Head low, he leaned against the walls as he walked, finally returning to the apartment and collapsing into his chair. His breath labored.
He twisted to the books piled on the side. Off the top, he pushed title after title, sending them tumbling on the floor.
He pulled a thin, worn book toward him. "The Myth of Sisyphus." He opened it to a page marked with ripped paper. His eyes skimmed the words. "The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world."
Why had he marked this page? He didn't remember reading it. What did it mean? An ironic question for an essay that asserted there was no intrinsic meaning to life.
Levi's world, even in private, centered on a silent need. Should he break that silence? Could he coax Jude to?
Jude normally walked through the door by 7:30. It was nine. His simmering nerves tipped to a boil. Any resolve he manufactured hours ago softened like his cock after a good nut.
A thud at the door, the jingle of keys, the door kicked open. Jude swayed in the doorway.
"Good evening, Levi." Jude bowed and stumbled into the apartment, nudging the door closed with his hip. It slammed. He covered his mouth and giggled, crossing his lips with an index finger. "Shh!"
Levi stewed in disappointment and righteous indignation.
Jude raised an arm, a brown bag creased around the neck of a liquor bottle.
"Brought the party home, little brother." He took a swig. "Here." He extended the arm holding the bottle.
Levi regarded him.
"Don't leave me hangin', Levi."
