"Addiction"
The second installment of
The Brothercest Series
by Justin Tyler.
*
"... and I want you to
promise
me you'll stay away from the goddamn
Viper Room
," Trey droned on. "You know what happened the last two times you went there without me to look after you. I can't bail your pretty ass out of trouble when I'm on the opposite coast, Harley."
A long silence followed Trey's admonishment.
"Harley?"
"Yes, Trey?" Harley replied curtly.
"Promise me?"
Harley sighed. "If it makes you feel better."
"That's my baby," Trey responded, his killer smile obvious in the tone of his voice. "I'll see you Monday night. Love you."
"Love you too, Trey." Harley snapped the clamshell phone closed. Looking down at the sidewalk, he shook his head in disgust. He peered up, squinting at the bright, garish neon lights above the door of the West Hollywood establishment. Harley took a deep breath to shake off the unpleasant feeling that the conversation with his brother had left him with. He nodded politely at the doorman, stomped out his cigarette, and entered Johnny Depp's
Viper Room
.
---
They were going at it - again. Fast, furious, and frantic, as always with Harley on his knees, his slim fingers clutching white-knuckled at the Ralph Lauren sheets. Trey's warm hand rested gently on his younger brother's sweaty spine, just above the pretty small of his back: not to still the boy or to hold him down, but simply to let him know that there was a person attached to the huge, hard thing sawing repeatedly in and out of his body. Trey's breath hitched in his throat as he watched Harley's back arch, a thing of beauty in itself. Harley added insult to the visual injury by tossing his head back in genuine ecstasy, a motion that had become his trademark when he fucked, a movement usually seen only in porn videos, forced and fake.
There was nothing forced or fake when it came to Harley and sex, at least not where his older brother was concerned. Trey came violently as he always did, loud and nasty and altogether fabulous, as much from the illicit thought that it was his own brother he was fucking as from any physical sensation associated with the act. With just enough neurons left firing in his lust-melted brain to remember that Harley might need a little assistance, Trey leaned over his brother, pressing his sweat-drenched chest against Harley's glistening back. He fumbled beneath Harley, grasping the boy's impossibly hard cock to give him the few strokes necessary to finish him off. A strangled, primal sound deep in Harley's throat announced his orgasm, and the thick, hot, wonderful white stuff spurted out of his cock to coat his brother's hand and stain the designer sheets beneath him. Harley's legs twitched and his knees buckled, collapsing him weak and breathless onto the mattress. Trey tumbled down with him, heavy on Harley's back but the younger man not minding terribly because his brother's dick was still buried deep inside of him. Trey raised his hand, wet and sticky with his brother's semen, and lifted it to his own mouth...
Trey awoke with a start in his Manhattan hotel suite, his heart pounding and sweat covering his body, lungs screaming for air. He was sporting an erection so stiff that it was actually painful; he wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock and began to stroke, slowly at first to relieve the pressure gradually, his eyes fluttering closed. He thought about the dream that had awakened him in this state, fisting himself with increasing speed and friction. Trey thought about how pretty his movie star brother always is when he's fucking, how tight and hot and so fucking perfect, knowing that he'd get to do what he'd dreamt for real tonight when he returned home to Los Angeles.
A hundred different scenarios flashed through Trey's mind like a carnal PowerPoint presentation, all of them featuring his younger brother's pretty ass being fucked into the next time zone. Trey spread his thighs apart, reaching down to squeeze his tightening balls as he mercilessly jacked himself off. With a moan that sounded suspiciously like his brother's name, Trey came, his orgasm spraying weeks' worth of pent up come over his chest and belly.
Just like he'd been doing for months now, Trey cried after he came - always in private - his body spent, and his mind searing with guilt.
This obsession with his baby brother had gotten well out of control.
---
Things had not gone spectacularly well for Harley since Trey's return from New York a week earlier.
His first problem was sheer exhaustion. The actor had recently wrapped his latest film and had been hitting the party circuit pretty damn hard since, made easier and perhaps even necessary by virtue of Trey's long absence.
Harley had gotten hammered more times than he could count during Trey's six-week stay back east. His massive consumption of alcohol over that month and a half had served an important purpose: it had dulled the pain of missing Trey so desperately.
Harley's other problem was Trey himself.
Since their relationship had evolved six months earlier from that of being merely brothers into something considerably more complicated, Harley had become increasingly sensitive to Trey's over-protectiveness and sheltering. He didn't want to hurt his brother by bluntly telling him to back the fuck off, but Harley was feeling fairly smothered by Trey's doting and obvious condescension. He was twenty-four years old, and his older brother was suddenly treating him like a child incapable of tying his own shoelaces. Harley was rapidly becoming resentful of Trey, and he liked that feeling even less than the incest-spawned guilt that had been his constant companion at the start of this.
Harley sat at the table on the deck, patiently waiting for Trey to join him for breakfast. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs of runaway thoughts weaving through his mind. They had rented the large house in the Hollywood Hills less than three weeks after they'd first slept together. There was simply no question about them living apart after that first night, but it had taken them that long to find just the right place. With them behaving like all new lovers do, unable to keep their hands and other body parts off of each other, they needed a place that was private, where you didn't mind being at home for long stretches. This house had fit the bill perfectly.
Harley had decided that he would talk to Trey today over breakfast; he couldn't go on like this, feeling constantly coddled and criticized. He'd gotten out of bed early, well before the sun had risen over the California coast. He was on his fourth cup of coffee and ninth cigarette when he finally heard Trey padding through the kitchen.
Harley stood and pushed in his chair, taking a deep breath to ready himself. As he walked across the expansive deck to the French doors, he ran through the speech he'd been endlessly rehearsing for the past week. He didn't want to appear angry or upset to Trey, so he'd carefully scripted what he wanted - needed - to say to his brother.
Trey was standing at the kitchen's L-shaped island when Harley entered the room, and the younger man sucked in his breath at the sight of his sibling. His heart suddenly threatened to punch a hole through his chest.
My God, he's so fucking beautiful first thing in the morning
, Harley thought.
Trey was wearing a pair of old, soft, grey sweat shorts - and that was it. His hair was all askew, Trey not having bothered to run a comb through it yet, which Harley found utterly charming. The younger man adored Trey's body, tall and athletically slim with just the perfect degree of taut, rippling muscle beneath smooth, tanned skin. Harley exhaled slowly, blinking and swallowing hard, remembering that he needed to talk to his brother about something important. All he
really
wanted to do at the moment was to throw Trey to the ceramic tile floor and fuck the shit out of him.
"'Morning, pretty baby," Trey smiled.
Harley grimaced - the 'pretty' thing was a part of all this and had been nagging at him, mainly because it had the effect of making him feel even more girly than he already did on the inside. It would have been so easy for Harley to become a flaming effeminate, but he couldn't let the fact that he was gay become public knowledge, much less the fact that he was actually quite the princess. He knew that Trey wasn't trying to hurt him intentionally; there was no way for his older brother to know how belittling his attitude and actions were being perceived. Harley
had
to tell him, regardless of how it might hurt.
"Hey, baby brother," Trey said softly, noticing the look clouding his brother's face, "what's the matter?"
Trey reached over to cup Harley's cheek, but the younger man backed quickly away. "I... I need to talk to you, Trey. There's something that's been bugging me lately, and I need to get it off my chest and out in the open."
"Fair enough," Trey acknowledged, "but hold that thought. I brought you a present, and I can't wait another second to give it to you. It'll make you feel better, I promise."
Harley sighed, slapping his arms dejectedly down at his sides. Trey was famous for using stall tactics when it came to discussing his feelings, and Harley assumed that this was yet another demonstration. He smiled wanly and nodded for his older brother to proceed. Trey grinned happily at Harley, then bounded out of the kitchen. He returned moments later with a package, gift wrapped in blue paper and white bows and ribbons, and tucked securely under his arm. Stopping in front of Harley and smiling brightly, Trey offered him the gift.
Harley wearily accepted the present and began the task of unwrapping it. Trey spoke excitedly while he watched Harley remove the ribbons.
"I've been looking for this for
months
," Trey gushed. "I know the original will always be your favorite, but it's gotten so damn ratty looking. I want you to always look your best when you're out in public. Just don't wear it
all
the time, okay?"
Harley rolled his eyes at the comment as he lifted the lid off the box. Inside, hidden under layers of tissue paper, was a brand new, exact duplicate of his favorite article of clothing: the dark purple, oversized polo shirt that the press ridiculed because he wore it so often.
So that's what I've been reduced to
, Harley seethed inwardly,
he doesn't even think I'm fucking capable of dressing myself.
Harley angrily threw the box to the floor, shirt and all. His face flushed crimson and his blue eyes blazed.
"You treat me like a fucking
child
, Trey! I can't
take
