Good Intentions

Author's Note: Hello everyone! I just wanted to say thank you to all the views/comments I've received on all my works so far, they really mean a lot! I also wanted to give a head's up that Good Intentions will have one more chapter after this one and that I've got lots more stories in the pipelines (I'm just really slow).

And one last important note, this chapter is entirely in Quinten's pov instead of Brian's and is the longest one yet.

Thanks for reading!

**

Text Received 7:21 p.m.

Hey babe you still coming over?

Text Received 7:40 p.m.

Everything alright? Call me

Text Received 8:00 p.m.

You said youd be here by 7??

Where the hell are you?

Text Received 9:59 p.m.

WTF QUINTEN ANSWER ME

Text Received 10:00 p.m.

HELO??

Text Received 11:07 p.m.

U better not be slutting all over town!

After evetyhing I did for u!

Text Received 11:44 p.m.

Goddmn slut

If u dont call me in 5 fuking mins we r over!

Text Received 12:02 a.m.

Ffuck u to

Bit cvh

Have a nice fucking life

Text Received 8:50 a.m.

Ignore what I said in my texts. I got super drunk when you didn't show up, I didn't mean any of it. You know that right? If you had just given me a heads up that you weren't coming, I wouldn't have overreacted. Don't be scared to call me, okay? I'm not mad or anything... just worried.

Text Received 9:20 a.m.

I love you, baby.

Quinten slammed his phone face down on his desk with no regard for its delicate screen. Instead of letting out the frustrated scream building up in his chest, he deflated in his chair and allowed his head to tilt back so that he could stare straight up at the ceiling of his bedroom, where he swore he saw the messages from his boyfriend projected there in ghostly images.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, his tone lacking emotion. To his utmost shame, heat prickled at the corner of his eyes despite his best effort to keep himself under control. His bottom lip quivered as he viciously dug the heels of his palms against his eyeballs in an attempt to hold back the budding tears. "Fucking goddamn

idiot

."

No one in all of creation had been as stupid as he had been. Last night was supposed to be

the

night, when he'd finally give Calvin what he wanted. He had had it all planned out to the letter, but then... he made the mistake of a lifetime by peering in through his brother's bedroom door on his way out.

He couldn't explain it. Brian was...

Brian

. Loud, annoying, infuriating... a typical run-of-the-mill extrovert that Quinten preferred to avoid like the plague. But, to be fair to his brother, Brian could also be sensitive and kind, as he'd shown last night, and he possessed enough charm to entice others into overlooking his flaws. It was easy to fall under his spell, and unluckily for Quinten, his lizard brain decided that it quite enjoyed the sight of his dear brother admiring himself in a snug pair of jeans that left nothing to the imagination, smiling in a way that took him from boy-next-door to devilish hunk.

And yet wanting to fuck his brother wasn't the worst part. No the worst part was that Quinten had had plenty of time after being with Brian to go be with Cal. He was dressed, 'warmed up', and full of confidence. The planets had lined up and everything! And instead of going to his boyfriend and clearing his consciousness of his sins, he chose to hide in his room like a scared child and literally cover his head with his pillow as his phone vibrated well into the night.

Quinten wished he hadn't been such a shortsighted moron. Why couldn't he have just gone to his lover's side like a good little boy? Why did he have to develop an inappropriate crush on his goddamn brother? Why couldn't he stop himself? While it was nice that he and Brian were back on equal ground, Quinten wasn't so sure it'd been worth his relationship. They hadn't been dating for long, for starters. Compound that with Quinten's earlier reluctance to let Cal fuck his throat, and it would be a miracle if Cal actually forgave him.

His thoughts immediately went to the message Cal had sent about them being over. He shuddered, his arms dropping to hang lifelessly at his sides. Reading it for the first time had made his heart skip, and when he read it again immediately after in sheer disbelief, his entire body went numb, starting from the tips of his ears and ending at the point of his toes. Quinten wasn't naïve. The possibility had always been there, and he couldn't pretend that it hadn't crossed his mind; he had whined to Brian about it two nights ago, in fact. Sure, Cal had reassured him that he'd been drunk and upset, but Quinten knew there was some sincerity in his words. It was, sadly enough, the wakeup call he needed to get his ass in line.

Quinten sat up straight from his pitiful slouch and picked up his phone. Much to his chagrin, his hands shook as he unlocked the screen (thankfully uncracked) and pushed a call through. It rang a total of two times, barely giving him any time to mentally psych himself up for the imminent tongue lashing. Conversely, it also didn't give him a chance to become a fucking coward. Again.

"Hello?"

Cal's rambling voice pulsed in his ear, sending a familiar shiver racing up his spine. God, he could cum from that voice alone... it wasn't fair how some men could have such dark, sensual voices while Quinten had to force his vocal chords to go deeper on purpose, just so he wouldn't sound like a pimply-faced teenager.

"Quinten?"

"H-hey..." Quinten paused, his mouth suddenly dry. He swallowed then tried again, his pulse a wild beat in his veins. Why was this so terrifying? "I'm sorry." Despite his best effort, his voice came out small, tinny. Utterly pathetic. There was no way Cal would look at him the same way again after this.

"There you are, sweetie. What happened?"

Cal asked, and by some miracle, he didn't sound like he wanted to reach through the phone and punish him for his colossal mistake. In fact, he sounded quite relaxed.

"I was beginning to think you got kidnapped."

Ha! If only! "Oh, no, nothing like that!" Quinten forced out a laugh that sounded uncomfortably fake. "Last night, um... something came up... a... family emergency." He cringed after he said it and had half a mind to hang up and become a hermit for the rest of his stupid life. It was pretty much the lamest excuse in the book, but at least he could take confidence from the fact that it really was family related.

On the other end of the line, Cal clicked his tongue, then in a tone that didn't really convey concern, asked,

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Quinten was glad they weren't on a video call because there was no hiding the guilt on his face. Cal wasn't stupid, he knew he was lying through his teeth and for some unfathomable reason, was playing along like they were two actors fulfilling a script. Quinten squirmed, wishing he had taken the time to come up with a better excuse.

"Er, no I... I don't want to go into too much detail, but it's... it's my brother. He's uh..."

"It's fine, I understand,"

Cal muttered.

"As long as you're okay."

"I am," Quinten assured stiffly.

"Good... hey so, my evening's free. You should come over and make it up to me... I know he's your brother and all, but I was really hurt last night. You could have sent me a text."

Quinten hunched down, his ears hot at being chastised like a little kid. He deserved it, but at the same time, it really made him feel worse than shit. When they first met, Cal had wasted no time in praising him for being mature for his age. No one had ever said that to his face before, and to get that sort of compliment from a stud like Calvin had put Quinten on top of the world. When Cal asked him out on their second time meeting, Quinten knew that he'd be an idiot to turn him down, never mind the fact that he hadn't graduated high school yet and Calvin was thirty-eight years old with a teenage daughter who lived halfway across the country with his ex-wife. The rational part of his brain questioned why Cal wanted anything to do with a snotty-nosed brat like him, but the larger, admittedly hornier part had swiftly shut that line of thought down. What did it matter? Cal was interested in him and he was interested in Cal. Case closed.

"You're right... I was overwhelmed with everything going on and... and yeah, I can come over. What time works for you?"

"No later than six. I can't wait to see you, baby,"

Cal said, a smirk more than evident in his voice.

"Wear something pretty for me, okay? I gotta go. Bye for now."

Quinten nodded as the call ended, his attention elsewhere. It was far from the first time that Cal had called him 'baby', but for some weird reason, hearing it today made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

He really, really hoped it had nothing to do with Brian calling him that during their practices and everything to do with the trepidation of keeping up appearances while fabricating a fake illness or injury to justify his radio silence.

**

Brian was annoyingly perceptive when he wanted to be.

Ever since Quinten came downstairs to join the family for a late lunch, Brian had been staring at him like he expected Quinten to suddenly sprout wings out of his ass and do a magic trick. He ignored him, of course, but the constant vigilance was starting to creep him out. Just what the fuck was Brian's problem? Sure he was being quieter than normal, but so what? It was gray and melancholy outside, he was allowed to be pouty.

Their parents, blissfully oblivious of all the drama happening right under their noses, flicked their eyes between the two of them in between spooning soup into their mouths and nibbling at grilled cheese sandwiches. Other than that they didn't give any indication that they noticed tension brewing between the siblings and opted to keep up a cordial conversation that sounded way too forced. Compared to yesterday, however, lunch was a pleasant jaunt through paradise.

Wanting to escape the bizarre atmosphere pronto, Quinten finished his meal in record time and, paying no mind to Brian's ever watchful eye, excused himself from the table and made a hasty retreat to his room. It was only half past two, way too early to go see Cal, and with his nerves all a mess, sitting around or catching a nap wasn't an option. While eating, Quinten had had the smart idea to take his bubbling energy out on a walk, so he quickly pulled on toastier clothes including a scratchy scarf and knitted arm warmers and jogged down the stairs to slip into his shoes laying haphazardly next to the entryway.

He had the laces done up on one when quiet footsteps sounded behind him. Quinten closed his eyes and counted to five before glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Brian was standing there, his wideset eyes questioning and earnest. It was a wild contrast to last night, Quinten couldn't help but note. Brian's eyes had been earnest then, too, smoldering and unhinged with desire while he watched his younger brother worship his cock, his irises dark and wanting more, more, and more. Quinten had to look away, his face burning at the memory.

"Are you going out?"

Quinten mulled his answer over before deciding there was no harm in telling him the truth. There was no need to start lying -- yet. "Yeah. Felt like a walk around the neighborhood." He began yanking on his other shoe. He could feel Brian just... just staring at him. He had half a mind to sarcastically tell him to take a picture. Hell, he'd autograph the damn thing if it got Brian off his ass.

"Want some company?"

Quinten faltered, the bunny ear loop he was working on unraveling between his fingers. "Uh."

"I need to start getting more active anyway," Brian muttered, "starting to get flabby."

Quinten looked over at him. Brian, for once, wasn't attempting to stare deeply into his soul. Rather he had his head angled down as he gripped his belly within the folds of his sweater and squeezed. While it was true that Brian had been somewhat fit during high school and was slowly letting himself go, Quinten wouldn't categorize him as flabby. Pudgy, sure, but not

flabby

.

"You look fine to me."

Brian looked up, surprised. "I do?"

Quinten refrained from rolling his eyes; a herculean effort considering this was his goofball of a brother. Typical that he hadn't noticed the way Quinten had eagerly ran his hands over his torso instead of recoiling in disgust, but he guessed it couldn't be helped in a society where beauty standards were utter bullshit. Faced with his brother's sudden insecurity, Quinten was so, so glad that Brian and Cal hadn't met yet. If they did, there was no doubt in Quinten's mind that Brian would become deeply self-conscious after laying eyes on Cal's solid muscular body. He'd probably accuse Quinten of lying if he told him that he preferred softer curves over sharp angles. That wasn't to say that Quinten wasn't immensely attracted to Cal's physique, but Brian wasn't half-bad, either.

"Yup. A little chub is cute, anyway." He finished lacing up and straightened to his full height. "Alright... let's go."

Brian instantly brightened up, the corners around his eyes scrunched up to the point where they were practically closed. Quinten hurriedly looked away, his face prickling. Honestly, Brian was so

weird

. Ever since they were kids his brother had been the outgoing social butterfly with a far too expressive face that was almost cartoonish. Over the years maturity had tempered his personality, but there were times where Quinten was reminded of their youth, of simpler times when they'd been inseparable.

Like most younger siblings, Quinten had looked up to Brian with stars in his eyes, like he was a superhero straight from a comic book, cool and intelligent and strong. Then puberty hit him like a sledgehammer to the balls and suddenly Brian had become far too sappy and annoying for Quinten's tastes. They didn't have anything in common anymore and Brian had eventually stopped trying to rekindle the relationship they used to have, content to let Quinten have his own space, his own life. Which was fine by Quinten. He truly believed he didn't need Brian to save the day anymore.

These past two days, however, he was starting to wonder if that was remotely true. They couldn't ever go back to being buddy-buddy or platonic siblings, but... Quinten realized that he needed Brian now more than ever.

The moment they stepped outside, Quinten turned into an ice cube. Having been slender his entire life, he was well aware of his lack of body fat and had taken all the necessary precautions to prevent getting too cold. He had foolishly assumed that wrapping himself up in two layers of sweaters, a fully-lined coat, scarf, gloves and thick socks would be enough to escape the chill, but apparently Jack Frost hated his effing guts. Annoyingly enough, Brian didn't seem phased by the snow swirling about their faces and walked with his hands casually stuck down his coat pockets, his head tilted back to take in the frigid purity of winter. There was a respectable distance between them as they began their stroll down the icy sidewalk, but if the sun continued to hide behind the clouds like a scared child, Quinten would have no choice but to seek his brother's warmth. And Brian being Brian, he would give it, selflessly.

For now, they walked in silence, their gazes fixed straight ahead. Quinten had fully expected Brian to start talking his ear off or pester him with questions the moment they began, but for once his brother was merely enjoying the tranquility of a Sunday afternoon. Of course, the second Quinten realized that, Brian practically leapt into action.

"So... you doing okay?" he asked with false casualness.

Quinten shrugged. Brian wanting to talk was what he wanted, what he needed, but at the same time, he wasn't going to make it easy for him. Old habit and all that.

"Never better."

"You're acting kinda off."

"What d'you mean?"

"You're... quiet."

"I'm always quiet. Besides, I'm too busy enjoying nature to start running my mouth," Quinten added pointedly.

Brian puffed out a sigh, his breath a wispy white cloud. "You know what I mean. Yesterday you were straight up hostile and today you're, I don't know, conflicted?"

Quinten clamped down on the tip of his tongue, equally embarrassed and exasperated. As much as he wanted to think his brother a clueless idiot, Brian had his rare moments of insight. Quinten moistened his lips, hoping to buy time for a halfway decent answer, but Brian continued on, filling the void between them with carefully measured concern.

"Is it about what we've been doing?"

"It's..." Quinten fumbled. It was what? Complicated? Nothing to be worried about? He didn't want to say anything, knowing how Brian would react. Besides, how could he give an answer when he didn't understand everything himself?

In response to the growing silence, Brian laid a hand on his shoulder and brought them to a stop. He stared a hole through the side of Quinten's head, who refused to so much as glance at him, halfway scared to see what expression he wore.

"It is, isn't it?" Brian asked, voice low. No-one else was around but he talked quietly anyway as if they could keep what they'd been doing a secret from the universe. "Look, I know you want to keep practicing on me but we should stop."

"No!" His response had been knee-jerk, the mere idea of severing the feeble bond between them yanking him by the chain. Quinten reddened at his own outburst and at the way his shout echoed through the muted air like a gunshot, shattering the peace of their sleepy little neighborhood. He closed his eyes in an effort to center himself. Brian waited for him to gather his thoughts, the grip on his shoulder grounding. "I don't want to stop."

They should stop. Quinten knew deep in his heart that they should put an end to it right then and there. But doing and knowing were two entirely different beasts. The mere idea of saying "no more" made his stomach curl. He wanted to keep sharing himself with Brian; he wanted Brian to acknowledge how he had grown and still had room to grow. Was that really so selfish?

"You sure? I'm here for you, but if it's getting too much for you then I think we should stop."

Quinten took two deep breaths before finally turning towards his brother, who looked at him with so much empathy it would have made a saint blush. Brian's eyes were round and soft, the sage-green nearly colorless thanks to a weak beam of sunlight finding its way to them. His curly dark hair, virtually identical to Quinten's own aside from the shorter length, played about his ears and forehead thanks to the drifting wind, making him look a little more boyish. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were caressed by the cold, his beard a little overgrown but nothing too wild, his lips two pink puckered pillows that Quinten focused on longingly.

Kissing Brian last night had been spur of the moment, the urge to taste his impassioned words straight from the source so uncomfortably overwhelming that it had made Quinten delirious. To his utmost delight, Brian was a very good kisser. Remembering it now, the sensation of Brian's tongue tangling with his own, the heat of his breath, the trill of his moans echoing down his throat, caused Quinten's thoughts to cloud over further. As blasphemous as it was to even think it, his brother's kisses greatly overshadowed Cal's in leaps and bounds. It was just too bad Brian had forbidden them from making out ever again.

"I'm sure," Quinten said, looking pointedly into his eyes, where it was safer. "You can't deny that it's bringing us closer."