Hot Like Me

It had been - by far - the most sensual, erotic thing that had ever happened to Harley. At the time, he'd thought that he'd never again experience that sensation, that overwhelming feeling of having such an inconsequential part of himself being so catered to, so loved, so adored and desired.

Harley was wrong. Dead wrong. He felt it again right now, just as strong and heady, just as erotic and as overpowering as it had felt that very first time.

He whimpered, a bleating heartbreak of a sound, as Trey's fingertips lightly caressed his collarbones.

~~~

Part X: "Smarter Than He Looks"

"I didn't mean it, Trey," the younger man whispered. He felt lips touching his ear, warm and moist, the smell of stale Scotch wafting to his nose.

"I want you," Trey breathed into Harley's ear. "I am so drunk Harley, and I'm so sorry that's the only thing giving me the courage to tell you how I feel. I want you, baby brother. I love you, I want you, and I need you, so badly. I can't breathe without you..."

Tears stung at Harley's bloodshot eyes. He had never stopped loving Trey, wanting him and needing him, and he'd not been the one paralyzed by guilt in the first place. For reasons even he wasn't sure of, Harley had been able to easily dispense with the guilt and the fear very early on, shockingly soon after their relationship had changed into something decidedly un-brotherly.

Harley tilted his head, brushing his cheek against the strong hand still softly stroking his collarbone. A tear ran down his face and dripped onto the back of his brother's hand, warm and wet.

"I want you too," Harley spoke softly. "I love you, big brother."

Trey's chin came to rest heavily on Harley's shoulder. "And therein lies the problem," he said with a shuddering, shaky breath. "You're my brother. I just can't get past how wrong that is, to feel this way about you."

Harley turned to face his brother, taking the older man's face in his hands. Tears streaked his face, and he tried his hardest to smile through them. "How many times am I going to have to explain this to you?" he asked rhetorically. "I don'tgive a shit how wrong anybody thinks this is. I want you. I need you. Ilove you. Sowhat if I just happen to be your brother? That was an accident, Trey, a biological freak of nature that we ended up being related, some sort of fucking heartless, cosmic soul-mate joke. I can't explain it, and I can't even begin to rationalize it to anyone else's satisfaction, not even yours. All I know is that I love you, I need you, and I want you. Nothing else matters to me, Trey, nothing. Not even the fact that youare my brother."

"I don't want to hurt you," Trey said tearfully.

"You'renot hurting me!" Harley rasped. "Why can't you get that through your fucking thick skull? I'm a grown man Trey, and I'm a hell of a lot brighter than people give me credit for. I don't make decisions lightly. Just ask my agent."

Trey smiled, a small chuckle escaping him despite the gravity of the moment. He knew full well the shit that Harley put his agent through, being as particular as he was regarding the roles he accepted. The boy could be starring in four or five films a year if he weren't so goddamn picky.

"You're not hurting me, " Harley repeated, his voice calm and soothing. "I knowexactly what I'm doing." He sighed, wrapping his arms around his older brother's waist before continuing. "I know you're afraid, Trey. You're afraid of what would happen if anyone found out. The difference between you and me is thatI don't fucking care. God, I sound like a fucking broken record..."

"Okay," Trey said, suddenly quite sober. "Let's be hypothetical here. What if, suddenly, this all went public? How would you handle that, all the media reports that you're having an incestuous relationship with your brother?"

Harley smirked. "Who cares? If I ended up blacklisted it wouldn't matter anyway. I've made enough money already to live very comfortably for the rest of my life. And knowing Hollywood, it would probably get memore offers. You know how those folks love a scandal. Shit... Woody Allen and Roman Polanski would probably be beating down the door to hire me once the word got out."

Trey laughed out loud. He paused and smiled at his brother. "Why is that you can always make me laugh when I'm feeling my worst?"

Harley didn't hesitate a second before responding. "Because you know, deep in your heart, that I love you. More than anyone ever has, or ever will love you."

"What if Mom and Dad and the girls found out?"

Trey's question hit Harley hard, blind-siding him like a barroom brawl sucker punch. It reeled him for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

Harley responded by asking his own question. "If we had done something awful, Trey, something really, really terrible, like robbing a bank, or stealing a car, or dealing drugs, or even killing somebody - do you think that Mom or Dad or our sisters would turn away from us, not support us, not love us anymore?"

If there was one thing that Trey knew in his heart, something that was unbreakable and unshakable, it was their parents' unconditional love for their children, for all of them, no matter what. The same went for their three sisters, and the close bond they had as a family. He'd just never thought of it in those terms before. He hadn't really needed to, until now.

"No," Trey shook his head softly, " no, they wouldn't turn away. It might be hard on them, and very disappointing. But they'd still love us, regardless. I know that."

"Then why would this be any different?"

Trey couldn't think of a good reason why it would. He lowered his eyes, staring at the tile floor as he shook his head, acquiescing to his brother's logic. "It wouldn't. They'd be shocked, probably hurt, but in the end they'd all still love us. They wouldn't abandon us for anything."

"Is there anyone else, besides Mom and Dad and the girls, who you care enough about to evengive a damn what they think?"

Again, Trey couldn't think of an argumentative response. Still staring at the floor, he shook his head again. "No. No one."

"I rest my case." Harley reached out his hand, placing his fingers softly under Trey's chin. He tilted his brother's head up, gently, pulling the older man's gaze from the cold, tile floor to his own warm, blue eyes.

Trey smiled. "I thoughtI was supposed to be the brains behind the operation."

Harley smiled, that bright, patented movie star smile of his. "That's just movie business. This isreal life. And I'm not nearly as stupid as I let people believe."

"Pretty beats smart, any day of the week, right?"

Trey's little brother grinned with enough wattage to light up the Hollywood sign on a dark, foggy night. "You bet your sweet ass it does."

~~~

Part XI: "Queer As Them"

Harley and Trey sat at the kitchen table attempting to re-create the buzzes they'd had earlier in the evening. They quickly polished off the nearly filled glasses of Scotch and tequila they'd left on the counter. After their very serious conversation and Trey's apparent switch over to 'The Dark Side' as Harley had so humorously put it, they were both in need of a fresh bout of inebriation.

Laughing and giggling, they proceeded to do a damn fine job of it.

"So," Trey asked, refilling his glass with Scotch and offering the bottle of Petrone to his brother, "what the hell was it you were doing with that black-haired kid on the speaker tonight?"

"Pphhhtt," Harley replied with a raspberry sound, drunk again. "You mean Gentry? Shit... that boy's been after my skinny little ass for over a year now. He's like a freakin' puppy dog the minute I walk into the place. Faaabulous dancer, though. Great body."

Trey snorted a laugh, a sure sign that he was already quite snockered again. "You know," he said, his voice thick and slurred, "you really sound like a faggot when you say 'faaaabulous" like that." He giggled again, laughing at the sound of his own voice imitating the word in his brother's rather fey manner.

Harley adopted a look of mock indignation. "Well, how am Isupposed to sound? I am a faggot.Honestly, darling..." He rolled his eyes over-dramatically to punctuate his pretend exasperation.

Scrunching up his nose distastefully, Trey took another long swig of his Scotch. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."

"Dowhat?" Harley inquired, looking quite the innocent. He took a serious swallow from his glass of Petrone.

"Act all queer like that." Trey took another sip of his Scotch. Well, maybe more than a sip, something more akin to a thirst-driven gulp.

"And this bothers youwhy?" Harley asked, holding his hand out in a questioning, limp-wristed gesture.

"Because," Trey responded, rolling his eyes also, but not nearly so dramatically as his brother, "ifyou're a fag, then for all intents and purposes it means thatI am also a... a..."

"Can't even say it, can you?" Harley grinned.

"Nope," snorted Trey with a shake of his head.

"Fag. Fag, fag, fag. Cocksucker, butt-licker, ass-fucker..."

"Harley?" Trey rapidly interjected.

"Hmm?"

"You wanna get laid tonight?"

"Well... yeah."

"Then lay off the 'fag' shit, okay?"

"But Trey, by definition..."

"Shut the fuck up, Harley."

"Right." Harley picked up the large, crystal tumbler and polished off the remaining tequila. Trey did the same with his glass of Scotch.

They were both shit-faced again.

Harley's libido had never needed any help where Trey was concerned. After their very somber conversation, coupled with the significant amount of cheap Scotch he'd consumed since arriving home piled on top of the good stuff he'd drunk at the club, Trey was also quite ready to throw caution to the wind.

So..." Trey asked slyly. "Wanna fuck?"

Harley smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Top or bottom?"

"Don't press your luck," his older brother scowled.

Harley squinched up his nose. "I guess that means I'm the bottom. Again."

"Right."

"Oh darn," Harley said, feigning disappointment. "I justhate it when that happens."

"So?" Trey inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Last one in bed's a dirty, rotten faggot," Harley challenged with a grin.

The kitchen was left with two drained glasses, an empty bottle of Petrone, and a nearly empty bottle of cheap Scotch on the table, and two chairs overturned on the tile floor from their occupants' hasty retreat. Giggles, snorts, and squeals echoed through the large house as the brothers made their way up the spiral staircase, hands grappling at shirts and skin and pant legs and waistbands, in an effort to gain an unfair advantage.

~~~

Part XII: "Do It For Me"

Trey won the race to the bed. He was, after all, bigger, stronger, and faster than his younger brother. His advantage wasn't dictated by his size, strength, or quickness, however, but by virtue of the fact that there was no fuckingway he was going to let Harley brand him as a 'dirty, rotten faggot' if he didn't get there first.

No fuckingway.

So, Trey had played dirty, lying his greater bulk on top of Harley halfway up the twisted staircase, unsnapping his leather pants , pulling down the zipper, and yanking the garment just down to the boy's knees, effectively trapping him with his own trousers.

Trey sat on the bed cross-legged, his hands folded in his lap with an angelic expression on his face. Harley stumbled awkwardly through the doorway seconds later, his pants now down around his ankles, looking most undignified.

"Problem?" Trey inquired, trying hard to stifle a giggle and not entirely succeeding.

"Cheater," Harley hissed, pulling his leather pants back up to his waist.

Trey fell over sideways, laughing giddily like the drunk he currently was. "Why you pulling them back up?" he asked, giggling. "You're just gonna have to take 'em off again!"

Harley shot his brother a mock stern look, zipping up his pants and closing the snap decisively. "That may be so," he said with a haughty toss of his long, golden curls, "but now you're gonna have to work for it."

"Oh, like I've ever had towork to get you out of your drawers." Trey spontaneously curled up into a fetal position, he was laughing so hard.

"I don't find this theleast bit amusing," Harley retorted, fighting mightily to maintain his prissy attitude and to keep from bursting out into giggles.

Trey righted himself and sat up, grinned, and threw down the gauntlet. "If you want me to fuck you, baby, lose the leather."

Harley put his hands on his hips and tilted his head, appearing as if he were deep in thought regarding his options. He shrugged, smiled, and dropped his pants.

Trey wasn't finished. "Now, the shirt," he said, his voice low-pitched and somewhat commanding. "I want you completely naked before you get into bed with me."

Harley shivered. As much as he hated to admit it, he kind of liked it when Trey talked to him like that, all forceful, his voice velvety deep and utterly sinful. Complying, he pulled the backwards, inside out shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He kicked off his motorcycle boots and black socks, then pushed the legs of the leather pants off of his ankles with his feet. Naked, he took a step toward the bed, only to be halted in his tracks by his brother's voice.

"Don't move," Trey said softly, leaning back to rest his head on a pillow, legs stretching out, his hands folded calmly on his stomach. "I want to look at you first. Don't move."

Harley didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. He just stood there, letting his brother's gaze wash over him.

Long minutes passed. Harley felt more naked, more exposed than he'd ever felt in his life, but there was something about his predicament that he couldn't define, something that made him feel loved, and so very much appreciated. Maybe it was the look in Trey's eyes as he watched him standing there. Maybe it was how he felt just because itwas Trey was looking at him like that.

"You are so beautiful," Trey said, finally breaking the eerie silence of their bedroom. "So incredibly, exquisitely beautiful."

Harley felt suddenly embarrassed. He shifted his feet and began to turn away.

"No!" Trey hissed through clenched teeth.

Harley halted, turned sideways to his brother now, and stopped dead at Trey's emphatic directive. He turned his head to look at Trey, still reclined on their bed.

"You honestly have no idea, do you?" Trey asked seriously, raising himself up on one elbow to consider his younger brother. The older brother swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "You really don't have any fucking idea how amazingly beautiful you are, how... how pretty you are."

Harley folded his arms across his chest, wrapping himself up tightly in an effort to hide himself. He shook his head defiantly.

Trey reached over and pulled down the bedspread, blanket, and sheet beneath him. He shucked off his dress shirt, pulled off his designer slacks, kicked off his shoes and socks, then skinned down the boxer briefs that remained. Naked as well now, he patted the mattress beside him invitingly.

Harley didn't hesitate. He crawled onto the bed, scooting himself up to lay beside his brother. Trey shifted, moving beneath the covers and pulling them over his brother's body as well. They lay side by side, looking at each other but not touching at all for what seemed like forever.

Finally, Trey put his hand on his younger brother's face, so soft, smooth, and warm. "I want you to do something for me," Trey said quietly, pressing his face gently against his brother's.

Harley sighed, feeling enough pleasure just from his brother's closeness to satisfy any need he'd thought he had.

Trey pressed his warm lips against Harley's ear, breathing heavily. "I want you to touch yourself," he whispered. "God, you have no idea how much it turned me on when I realized that's what you were doing in the back of the Jeep."

Harley stretched, his body flexing involuntarily in response to Trey's words.

"It made me so hard," Trey continued whispering, "so fucking hard, Harley, when I thought about you back there, just a few feet behind me, your hand around your beautiful dick, stroking it, making it get hard, and hoping that you were thinking about me while you were doing it."

Harley nodded, his hand reaching out to grasp Trey's. Their fingers laced together, and Trey gently moved his brother's hand downward between them, guiding it to rest on the boy's already stiff erection.

His own fingers wrapping around his cock caused Harley to moan, not so much from the actual physical sensation of it but because of the sultry words intoned into his ear that had prompted the action in the first place. Trey pulled the covers down off of his brother and himself; he wanted to watch this, to see everything, and he wanted his little brother to know that he was naked beside him, for him to see the physical reaction it caused him just in the viewing.

Harley rolled onto his back, his cock fisted in his hand, swept away by a powerful intoxicant not from a bottle, but from his brother's lips. He slid his hand up and down the length of his cock, reveling in the feeling of the soft, pliable skin moving freely over top of the hard shaft beneath it, noticing how amazing that felt, truly cognizant of the intricate sensation for the first time. Stroking slowly, he established a lazy but regular rhythm, stopping his hand at the top of the shaft occasionally to run his thumb over the soft, spongy head.

Trey snuggled up against his brother, running a hand around his neck to grapple at those pretty curls, whispering in his ear again. "My God... you're so pretty," he said, near tears at the primal beauty of watching his brother pleasure himself. "Tell me what you're thinking..."

Harley gasped, his breath coming in staccato, panting bursts, He increased the pace of his hand on his cock, squeezing harder, stroking faster. "I'm thinking about you, Trey" he moaned, "thinking about your cock in my ass, fucking me, hitting that spot just inside and then going deep, filling me up... ah... God, I love it when you're fucking me... my ass tight around your dick... umm... the warm... oh God, the warm when you come inside of me... the warm..."

Trey flinched, his brother's words touching something inside of him that he'd been previously unaware of, something primitive and achy and altogether wonderful.

The younger man was stroking himself harder now, faster. He breathed harshly, licking his dry lips with his soft, supple tongue. "I'm thinking about your cock in my mouth," he offered without being asked this time, "God, I love sucking you off, Trey, feeling your soft dick getting harder in my mouth... ahh... you get so hard when I'm blowing you... God... so hard... mnnh... the way your come feels, hot and syrupy... how it tastes... oh my God, I could keep eating your come all day and never get tired of the taste... ah...Trey, I'm so close..."

Trey put his hand on Harley's face, turning the boy's head to face him so he could look into his eyes. "Come for me, baby. Come for me...."

That was all it took, for Harley to hear Trey's voice, to hear him say those words. With just a few additional strokes Harley came, gasping for breath, his heart pounding out of control.

"God... Trey.... coming... God, I love you..." Harley grunted, and it was over, the hot, sticky fluid spurting forcefully out of his cock repeatedly, painting Trey's stomach and chest. Trey pressed his brother's body close to him as the boy came, the orgasm racking his slender body with quivering shudders.

Trey himself was breathing heavily and shaking, and he thought his brother was near to passing out when he felt him scooting down. The boy's hands skirted over his chest, his warm lips kissing their way down the taut muscles of his older brother's stomach.