Jamie

Jordan held on to my shoulders, staring down at me while I stared up at him, my lips at the base of his cock. His eyes grew wider and wider as my tongue circled the tip. He swallowed hard, his stomach subtly heaving in and out. His hands moved to the back of my head, gently encouraging me to get closer, wanting his cock in my mouth. Jordan assured me Tim would be gone for at least an hour, but I was still paranoid he'd show up any minute and catch me sucking his little brother's dick.

"It's okay," he said, sensing my hesitation. "Come on. Please?" I didn't need anymore convincing. He inhaled deeply as I took him in my mouth. "I love it so much," he said, stroking the back of my head. But, after a few minutes, he pulled away and got down on his knees.

"Wait, Jordan," I said as he unzipped my shorts. "You don't have to. We don't have much..." I was going to say "time," but it was too late; Jordan's lips were already on my cock. After a few seconds, just when he was getting a good rhythm, he stopped, looking up at me.

"What's your favorite Depeche Mode song?" he asked.

"What?" I said, trying not to sound too pissed off that he stopped to ask this question.

"Your favorite Depeche Mode song?"

I could honestly say that I'd definitely never met anyone like Jordan before. He was fun, fascinating, and so annoying at times...like now.

"Just Can't Get Enough," I said.

"What?" he said in disbelief, a mixture of shock and disgust on his face. "That's crap."

"Oh yeah?" I said with a laugh. "What's yours?"

"Personal Jesus," he said.

"Interesting," I said.

"Have you heard the Johnny Cash version?"

"No," I said. Much to my disappointment, (because all I wanted was for him to continue to do what he was doing), he stood up and went to my phone. "How do you know about Johnny Cash?"

"My dad," he said. Making myself more comfortable, I scooted back on the bed, kicking off my shorts as Jordan searched YouTube. He quickly found what he was looking for and the bluesy distinct country sound of Johnny Cash singing Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus sounded. He placed my phone back on the nightstand and knelt on the bed beside me.

"Tim could show up any minute," I said.

"No, we have time," he said, his hand roaming down my chest and stomach and further down, eventually running a finger up the shaft and around and around the tip. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into my lap. "What do you think this song is about?" he asked, lathering my cock with lube at the same time. 

"I don't know," I said, not really listening to the song, only thinking of one thing. If hell existed, I really felt like that's where I was headed.

"Do you believe in Jesus?" he asked.

"No," I said, wondering what the hell prompted all this questioning.

"I don't know if I do," he said. "You know, I think this song is about being Jesus for someone else. I mean, someone else's savior." If I wasn't thinking about Jordan and him pushing down on me, I would have been up for this type of intellectual conversation. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, pressing his hands against my chest for support.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he sighed. Bending over, he breathed and moaned against my neck as my fingers dug into his lower back.

"You know you're incredible, right?" I said, hopelessly and stupidly in love with this kid.

I knew him in a way no one else did and that made me feel better than I'd ever felt.

And guilty as hell at the same time.

The front door down below opened and closed, but Jordan didn't let go of me. "Finish," he said.

"Okay, okay," I said. He kissed me hard, muffling my cries with his mouth. I did the same to him.

"Hey, Jordan," Tim yelled up the stairs. "I got your cereal."

"Shit," Jordan gasped, releasing me. He put his shorts back on, running out of my room. A few seconds later, I heard the shower turn on. For once, Jordan took a shower when he was supposed to. The last thing we needed was for Jordan to go downstairs, smelling the way he did, not to mention how incredibly sweaty and hot and...Damn, I wanted him all over again, imagining his damp curls through my fingers.

The two brothers really had to have a serious talk. Tim had to tell Jordan he was in love with this woman, a woman he was contemplating marrying. He was afraid to tell Jordan, though, afraid he wouldn't take it well because he hated any type of change. But it wasn't fair to Tim; Jordan had to grow up sooner or later.

At the same time, Jordan had to tell Tim about us. At least he had to come out. I was sure Tim would accept Jordan's sexuality, but I wasn't so sure he'd accept our relationship, especially since he had already given me a warning. There was a strong chance that Tim would be pissed and end our friendship once he found out about us.

Jordan was in love with me.

I was in love with Jordan.

Tim was in love with that woman, Kelly.

We all found love, so what was the problem, right?

Jordan poked his nose in my room, smelling all nice and clean, a towel loosely hanging from his waist. He smiled shyly at me although we both knew he was not the least bit shy. I couldn't resist and went directly to him. With my hand on his waist, I kissed his mouth.

"I love you," I said.

"Yeah, I do too," he said and kissed me. I didn't want to stop, but we were half in the hallway, half in my room while Tim was right downstairs.

"Go get dressed," I said when all I really wanted to do was tear his towel off him.

When I knew the coast was clear, when Jordan was back in his room and Tim was downstairs somewhere, I went to the bathroom to take a shower. I couldn't go downstairs looking the way I did. Raspberry residue was still on my face, my chest and stomach sticky, all from Jordan.

By the time I finished my own shower, Jordan was somewhere in the wilderness, hopefully with shoes on so he wouldn't get himself dirty again when he was going to visit his mother in a few hours.

Surprisingly, I found Tim in the laundry room doing Jordan's laundry.

"I don't know what's with him lately," he said. "He forgot it's his laundry day. I don't think he's forgotten that in ten years. I can't believe I'm doing his laundry. What'd you do to him, anyway? He took a shower and ran off."

"I didn't do anything to him," I said, swallowing hard. What did he mean by that? "He really likes to run, huh?" I said, also hoping Tim didn't notice me blush. It was ridiculous how a nineteen year old could do this to me, a 30 year old man.

"Jordan says you've agreed to take him to see his mother again."

"She's your mother, too, right?"

"She gave birth to me, yes," he said. "You don't have to take him, you know. I just asked for a favor that one time."

"I know," I said. "I don't mind. He wants to go to the beach and I know you don't like the beach, so..." He stopped stuffing clothes in the washing machine, giving me a suspicious look. At least it looked suspicious to me, but maybe I was being paranoid. "You can take him if you want, but I know he really likes the beach and you don't so..."

"No, you can take him. It's just...oh, nevermind. It doesn't matter. He's annoyed at me right now, anyway. He can't deal with any type of change. I'm surprised he's put up with you. He likes you."

Yeah, he more than likes me.

"You know, Jordan is really smart, a fucking genius," Tim said. "You'd never know it, right? Sometimes he gloats. He says he's smarter than both me and Dad combined."

"Really?" I said, unable to hide my smile.

"He can be a real wise ass, you know. You wouldn't know it, would you?"

Oh, I think maybe I did know.

"Do you know he knows the lyrics to almost every punk and post punk song?"

"Don't forget new wave and alternative," I said. "I've introduced him to Green Day."

"I bet he liked that," he said.

"Yeah, actually, he did."

"He wants to live on campus," he said, closing the top of the washing machine. "He's never been away from home except for when he's been in the hospital."

"Yeah, he told me," I said.

"He tells you a lot of things, doesn't he?" he said, walking out of the laundry room. "He better thank me for doing his laundry. He never thanks me for anything."

"Maybe he can repay you by making special brownies," I said. Tim stopped and looked over his shoulder and at me.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said. I wasn't sure what he meant by that or what he implied.

Or maybe I did.

"He makes good brownies," I said matter-of-factly. "I think you should let him live on campus. I know you care about him and..."

"What do you know?" he said. "You don't have a clue."

"I think he deserves the chance to try," I said.

Jordan emerged in his bare feet, wearing khaki shorts and a Ramones t-shirt, interrupting our already awkward conversation. Without saying a word, he handed me a sunflower. Words couldn't begin to describe what I felt at that particular moment.

"Where'd you get that?" Tim asked, but Jordan didn't reply. Smiling shyly, he walked away.

"There's this field of sunflowers..." I said, holding the sunflower, twirling it around and around, wishing I could run to him and tell him how incredibly thoughtful and sweet and incredible and...stupid...I spaced out for a second with Tim's eyes harshly on me. "He took me there the other day because...well...we had nothing better to do and...it's this secret place he said and...and...and..." I didn't know what else to say as Tim stared at me. I really wished I knew what he was thinking. I knew what it looked like. It looked weird and odd for Jordan to give me a sunflower out of the blue.

Jordan came running back to us in a frenzied panic, breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating. He directed his anger toward Tim.

"Why'd you touch my clothes?" he demanded.

"Because it's your laundry day and you forgot," Tim said. "You want clean clothes, don't you?"

"They're my clothes. You had no right to touch them," he said, looking as though he was about to hurt someone, notably Tim. "You could have told me or reminded me. Why didn't you remind me? Don't fucking touch my things."

"Hey, I was trying to be helpful," Tim said. "But you were too busy picking sunflowers."

"Fuck you," Jordan said and stormed off. Tim calmly followed him, watching Jordan run into the kitchen. In a rage, Jordan emptied the kitchen drawers while Tim just stood there as Jordan dumped the silverware onto the floor. My initial inclination was to stop Jordan, to try to calm him down, but Tim put his arm out, preventing me from going to him. Interestingly, Jordan didn't throw any glass or breakable things. It was like he chose what to throw on the floor.

Tim stood there with his arms folded across his chest. "And you want to live on campus?" he said. Jordan stopped his tantrum and gave him the middle finger. As he walked past him, he purposely walked into him, shoving his shoulder on his way to the stairwell. "You're picking that shit up," Tim added. Jordan went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door shut. Tim continued to stand there, looking at the mess in the kitchen.

"He has a little temper, huh?" I said, not sure what else to say. I had never seen a teenager have a temper tantrum and over something so trivial. It wasn't trivial to Jordan. To Jordan it was a big deal. Tim should have reminded him it was laundry day.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," Tim said. "You might want to think about leaving sooner than later." Still, despite Jordan's temper tantrum, the last thing I wanted to think about was leaving.