FREE story! "His Little Brother":

Hello you lovely people.  What follows is an excerpt from "His Little Brother," which I'll put up for free (for the foreseeable future) in a couple of days on all my sites.  Look them up!

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His Little Brother

"Shit. SHIT!" I growl, dodging and weaving between the trees. I'm running low on ammo for my rail gun, and while my first instinct is to switch over to my secondary I know it's useless. Going with dual pistols against a sniper rifle is just asking to get my ass handed to me.

My only chance is to get to the ammo spawn point. Well, no, that's not entirely true. My best chance would be reaching over and jabbing random buttons on Derrick's controller while he curses and tries to keep it away from me. Followed by us calling each other fags. And then with me quitting the game and declaring victory while I have a one-point lead on him.

Problem is I'd already used this brilliant strategy yesterday, and as nice as our little after-game wrestling matches are it's not something I can do too frequently, especially in this heat. Even with the AC on we can only keep it to a level that takes the edge off of the humidity. At best it keeps our fingers and toes from getting too sticky and our shirts dry.

Coming back from college for the summer is a mixed blessing. On the one hand you get home-cooked meals and you don't have to worry about things like laundry or classes. On the other, you kinda miss that newfound sense of freedom you have from living in the dorms. I'd trade it for college life any day though, if it means hanging out with Derrick again.

We've been best friends since middle school. At first we'd become buddies for our love of sports and videogames, and soon we were at each other's houses almost every day. Going to the same college is great since we can hang out together, but not with those all-afternoon affairs we used to enjoy back in high school.

I admitted my feelings to him in Senior year.

He took it well, thank God. And he quickly got over the initial awkwardness whenever we called each other queers the way guys do. We've always been inseparable, and even though I wanted it to be so much more, what we had was too important for me to risk by coming on too strong.

Derrick was also nice enough to keep it toned down whenever he dated, and he never kissed a girl in front of me. We made out, once, when we were really drunk. He even admitted that he liked it. He also made it clear that it was definitely a one-time thing (well, unless the right combo of booze and horniness and the alignment of stars hits us again).

Derrick's quite a catch, really. He's got a mop of chestnut hair and an adorable face, with the sweetest dimpled smile. I used to ogle him when we swam together too, especially that toned swimmer's build of his. He put on a little extra muscle from football practice too. I was more of a track team guy myself, but the memory of feeling up his hard chest when we sucked face is gonna stick with me forever.

I still think about it when I jack off.

Just as I'm about to break out of my corner for what might just be a suicide run, Derrick pauses the game.

"Hey Jason. I gotta head out in like, ten minutes, man."

"Date with Mels?"

He winks, "Hope it'll get to be more than that."

I try not to get too jealous about it, but I've reached the point that I'm not pining over him. He probably picks up on my bit discomfort though, and he leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. It doesn't really mean anything: just one of those little things we can share as buds.

I still appreciate it.

"I'll just chill here and try to finish up some BD," I say, picking up the case for Blood Domain.

As Derrick cleans himself up and fixes his hair in the bathroom, I hear the thump of bare feet coming down the stairs.

Now as you gathered from the title of my story, Derrick's got a little brother. Fresh from high school and heading towards college, Jimmy is his sibling's opposite in a lot of ways. When you put them side by side you can tell they're related. He's got those same graceful features and that same mop of chestnut-brown hair, but Jimmy's got a certain softness to him that he never outgrew. He's far from a jock: short, lean, and kinda fragile-looking, like a field mouse.

He's also the more artsy type. Everywhere he goes he carries a sketchbook, and unlike the wannabes of his age he actually knows how to draw. Where most guys get their start scrawling out cartoon characters or trying their hand at anime, Jimmy's been doing still lifes and figure drawings with this little posable doll since he was twelve.

Me and Derrick were thirteen when we first met, and transitioning through adolescence together meant that we were a pair of real jackasses at the time. We bullied his kid brother a little: harmless things like locking him in the closet or holding him down and drawing kitty whiskers on his face with a marker. Who could resist though? He was just so adorable, and somehow that cuteness brings out a sadistic side in some people. Plus it was hilarious when he squirmed. A couple times he tried to put up a fight, but it was like a puppy trying to bite with its stunted fangs.

Once we went into college and our adolescence started to cool off, we started to treat him more nicely.

"Hey Spaz," Derrick says as his brother hops down the stairs, "I'm headed out okay? Mom has some leftover lasagna in the fridge."

"'Kay."

The door clicks shut behind Derrick, and Jimmy leans over the couch to watch me play. For some reason I always feel a little self-conscious when I've got an audience, like I have to explain the game to him or keep the action going by rushing to the boss. Make things interesting for his sake.

I'm getting a little annoyed.

"You want an ice cream sandwich?" Jimmy asks.

"No thanks. Already had one."

"You sure? It's getting pretty hot."

"No thanks," I say flatly. My irritation is beginning to shine through.

Jimmy pads into the kitchen and comes back munching on one. Without a word he plops down next to me, tugging on the wax paper between nibbles.

He was right though. Even with the shades drawn the afternoon sun is turning the house into an oven. My face is starting to get clammy, and the controls are beginning to grow slick in my hands. I'm not dripping sweat just yet, but I do need to put the game on pause.

I blink when Jimmy holds out the partly-eaten ice cream bar, offering a bite of it. I'm in a bit of a daze from the heat, and gratefully I lean in and get a mouthful of vanilla and chocolate. It's partly melted, but the core of it is still nice and frosty on my tongue.

All of a sudden I'm getting a weird vibe about this. Sharing a bite of food is more something I'd do with Derrick, and here's his kid brother doing the same. There's a real close physical resemblance, but I barely know the guy.

I finish up the level as he polishes off the rest of his ice cream, and once I hit the save point I quit, reaching down for the DVD case.

"Hey Jason..." he begins, "You like my brother, right?"

I freeze.

Now I'm not public about my romantic preferences just yet. I've only fallen for one guy so far and I've already told him, so there just isn't any reason to come out. I'm not exactly looking to date, after all. Being on sports teams and shit is usually the sort of thing that curbs accusations of being gay, so I'm sifting through my head in a panic wondering how the hell this kid figured it out.

"I mean, it's cool and everything, I just... well... is it going anywhere?"

"No..."

My answer comes out somewhere between a hiccup and a sputter. At the last second I think to myself that I could've passed it off as "No, I'm not hot for your brother, what are you talking about?" Getting choked up and nervous kinda screwed that opportunity, though.

I'm caught in this deer-in-the-headlights situation when he slides over along the couch, taking my arm in his. Despite the heat he leans in close, that soft brown mop of hair tickling my bicep.

"You're really... y'know..." he blushes, "handsome."

I suppress the urge to pull out of his grip.

This is the same guy I used to lock in the laundry hamper. He was the one we'd promise to take along with us when we went out to the movies, then leave behind for being a spaz. When me and Derrick used to walk home from school we'd go at a brisk pace, and Jimmy (being shorter) would have to scurry to keep up. The two of us always laughed at that.

And here he is clinging to my arm.

It's mostly guilt that leads me to nudge him away, but Jimmy just looks up at me in confusion.

"Something wrong?"

"What... what's this?" I ask, gesturing between us.

"Umm... I... like you," he says in that shy, drawn-out way, "I think I always have."

Jimmy was never much of a talker. Most of our interactions these days are in the kitchen where I'd be nabbing something from their fridge and he'd be coming down for a glass of milk or some pizza rolls. I can probably count the conversations we've had on one hand. I don't know much about him, and he can't know all that much about me besides sniffing out the fact that I play for the other team.

So I have a hard time believing it when he's nuzzling up to my arm, especially after all the crap me and Derrick used to give him.

It seems silly to feel bad about the immature shit I'd pulled when we were kids. We're both adults now, and time has layered so many years over those old skeletons. It's just the thought of him following like a puppy wanting to be loved, ignored by everyone around him.

It's probably the wrong thing to do to him, but I want to pull away and mutter a quick "I'm sorry but I have to go." He looks up at me with those soft eyes though, and says something in a low whisper that stops me in my tracks.

"You can pretend I'm Derrick if you want."

Soon I'm leaning back into the leather couch with his face in my lap.