Silence Between Brothers - Sex Stories

Silence Between Brothers

... stood, a white shape on the wall snatched his attention. Jude's finished pencil drawing hung by a pushpin.

"Jude?" Levi turned to the wind-up clock.

He 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.

Peaking through drenched hair under a spout of water, 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 an intimidating endowment.

Even when not visible and after multiple satiations, the drawing dominated Levi's mind. How could he express the depths of his appreciation for Jude's talent and generosity? 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? Who would he go to then? How would he survive? If his parents found out, would they let him come back? Would he even want to?

Levi's stomach tightened. A wave of nausea crashed over him. 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 a bitter sob.

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.

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. ...