Hot Like Me

"Need you in my mouth," Harley said breathlessly, his body still trembling from his own climax, "want you to come in my mouth... need to taste you again..."

~~~

Part XIII: "Sugar, We're Goin' Down"

Harley's hands were on Trey's hips, kneading at the soft skin there.

Trey, eyes elosed, moaned and threw his head back when he felt his brother's soft lips press against the tip of his cock.

And then, nothing.

"Shit," Harley swore under his breath.

Trey leaned up on his elbows and looked down at Harley, the boy splayed out on his stomach across Trey's lap with his face in his brother's crotch.

"S'matter, baby?" the older man asked, puzzled. He thought things had been going very well, especially considering how smashed they both were. Watching Harley masturbate for him - in a hell of a lot less time than itusually took - had gotten him wildly excited. His dick was so hard it hurt, sothat couldn't be the problem. Trey knew, even before Harley's little jack off soliloquy, that giving head was one of the young man's very favorite sex acts. He liked it so much, in fact, that on numerous occasions he'd come while blowing Trey, without either of them laying a hand on the boy's cock. Sothat wasn't it, either.

"Dry mouth," Harley croaked, lifting his head to look at Trey's face. "Really bad. This just isn't gonna happen. Shit..."

Trey started to laugh.

"Not funny," Harley glared at him.

"Is too."

"Is not."

"You gonna get it, or you want me go?" Trey offered with a grin.

"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harley replied, still drunk and slurring his words.

"What's the difference? We're both gonna be sick as fuckin' hell in a few hours anyway. I don't think mixing a little is gonna hurt at this point," Trey shrugged.

"Well, it's not gonna help," argued Harley.

"It'll helpme."

"How?"

"'Cause you'll have spit, and I'll get a blow job."

"Right." Harley sighed in resignation. "I'll go." He crawled from the mattress and pulled the bedspread off with him, wrapping the quilted, king-sized material around him like some big ass, floral toga. Tripping over the length of it, Harley made his way out of their bedroom.

Trey smiled, gripping his dick and stroking it slowly. He was as hard as marble, and he fully intended to keep it that way until Harley and his spit returned.

---

Harley fumbled in the cabinet over the microwave, pushing glasses noisily around the shelf, obviously looking for something specific.

"Where're the goddamn flutes..." he muttered as he searched. "Fuck..." He finally gave up and slammed the cupboard door closed. Opening the refrigerator, he leaned over and grabbed a bottle of champagne.

J. Roget champagne. Extra dry.

Harley wasn't sure what kind of scientific, chemical reaction was at work, but champagne - particularly this brand and dryness - made him salivate like Pavlov's freakin' dogs. The brand was very inexpensive, but through trial and error Harley had found this one to work the best. It had become a secret, lovers' joke between them. If Harley had a bottle of chilled Roget, along with the two Baccarat crystal tulip flutes that Jake had given them as a housewarming gift waiting on the night stand when Trey got home from the office - Trey knew that Harley was in the mood to blow him, and blow him good.

Struggling to keep the bedspread wrapped around him, Harley set the bottle on the counter and picked up the tea towel that hung neatly on the rack in front of the sink. He pulled the tab on the neck of the bottle, removing the foil wrapper and the little metal cage that held the cork in place. With a practiced movement he put the towel over the cork for traction, and began turning the bottle slowly with his other hand. He'd learned the technique from Jake, that you always turn the bottle,never the cork. It might be visually exciting to see a cork fly up to hit the ceiling and to watch the champagne foam and spurt out of the bottle, but what a waste. Harley had actually developed a taste for the stuff and, remarkably, mass quantities of it didn't give him a headache like it did most people.

The cork came out with a firm 'pop', Harley not spilling a single drop. Having been unable to find the Baccarat flutes, he simply shrugged and put the bottle to his lips. Not exactly sophisticated, but practical at the moment. He took a long swizzle of the dry, fizzy wine, thoroughly enjoying the way it bubbled up in his mouth and tickled at his nose. He swallowed the dry-sweetness then took another swig.

He grinned and licked his lips, already feeling the saliva factory hard at work.

---

Harley entered the bedroom, one hand holding the chilled bottle of Roget and the other wrestling with the large bedspread in an effort to keep it swaddled around him. He looked around the room; Trey was nowhere to be seen.

He took another long gulp of champagne, then sat the bottle down on the night stand on Trey's customary side of the bed. He climbed onto the mattress, re-adjusting the bedspread over the blanket and sheet, and pulled the covers up to his neck.

"Trey!" he called out.

"Yeah?" Trey's muffled voice came from the direction of the bathroom.

"Y' okay?" Harley asked loudly.

"Oh yeah," his older brother replied over the sound of running water. "Had to brush my teeth. They were starting to feel furry."

"Get in here!" Harley hollered through a laugh, grabbing the bottle and taking another swill of the bubbly.

"You okay?" Trey shouted back, the water turning off.

"Oh yeah," Harley replied, grinning and wiping away the excess spit that had begun to dribble down his chin. "I'm real good."

Trey finally emerged from the bathroom. He crawled into bed next to his brother, pulling the covers up to his armpits against the chill of the room. He looked at Harley and the boy suddenly jumped out of bed, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Trey smiled softly and shook his head. "Harley?"

"Yeah?" the younger man said, sticking his head out of the bathroom door.

"What's up?"

"Gotta brush my teeth," Harley replied, his words slurring even worse from the additional alcohol infusion of champagne in his system. "You might wanna kiss me or somethin'."

"Or somethin'," Trey repeated sarcastically. "Hurry up!"

"God, you're so fuckin'bossy!" Harley shouted back in retort.

"I'm s'posed to be bossy," snorted Trey. "I'm the top, remember?"

"Fuck you!" Harley yelled, sort of muffled due to a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

"Later!" Trey hollered back. "You owe me a blow job first!"

Harley appeared at the bathroom doorway, smiling broadly as he wiped toothpaste from his chin with a hand towel. "I don't owe you shit, asshole!"

"Do so, jerk."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do not."

"Get your pretty ass in bed."

"You still horny?"

"Well, that's a charming way to ask." Trey reached for the bottle of Roget, making a nasty face as the dry champagne slid down his throat. He didn't know how his brother could stand the taste, but given the physiological reaction it produced in the boy, he wasn't about to voice a complaint.

"Well... are you? I don't want all this good spit to go to waste."

"Come over here and find out for yourself."

Harley threw the towel haphazardly into the bathroom. He walked back into the bedroom, climbing onto the mattress and sliding his body under the covers to join his brother. His hand traveled down Trey's body, over the hard, smooth muscles of his chest, down the slope of his ribs, past the sculptured six-pack, finally coming to rest on the man's cock, gripping the hardness of it with his fisted fingers. Harley gave his brother's dick a firm squeeze, down low at the base. Trey swallowed hard and let out a little moan.

"Feel good?" Harley whispered into his ear.

"Um huh," Trey replied breathily, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Feel even better with your sweet mouth on it...ah..."

"Hand me the bottle," Harley said softly, grinning. Trey was somehow able to execute the movement, picking up the champagne from the night stand next to him and handing the bottle to his brother.

Harley put the lip of the bottle to his mouth and took a hearty drink. He licked his lips, scooping up every last drop, then leaned over the edge of the bed to place the bottle on the floor.

"Sit up." Harley instructed, leaning against his brother, whispering again into his ear.

Trey scooted up, placing a pillow against the headboard behind him for support.

Harley pulled down the covers, the floral bedspread, the blanket, and the sheet. Moving with agonizing slowness - agonizing slowness at least as far as his older brother was concerned - he knelt between Trey's legs, sliding his long fingers over the man's muscular inner thighs. The spit factor ideal now thanks to the champagne, Harley took his brother's cock into his mouth, sucked gently for a second on the head of it, then leaned down to take the entire length of the silky, hard shaft deep into his throat.

"Oh myGod!" Trey rasped, "ah... God, you're so good... feels so good..."

Harley raised his head, sliding his mouth along Trey's dick to the tip, running his tongue along the underside, feeling his brother squirm. He left the velvety soft head in his mouth, sucking hard on it, Trey's cock getting outrageously hard from the suction and the friction.

The boy's mouth was so soft, so ungodly wet, so utterly perfect. He swabbed his tongue across the head of the cock in his mouth, prodding at the small slit, smiling gently when he felt the hardness flex involuntarily between his lips.

Ultimately, there are only two kinds of people where blow jobs are concerned. The first are people who do it out of a sense of duty, or for equality's sake, or from some sort of warped perception of obligation.

And then there are those people who do it just because they love it, they know they're good at it, and they simply can't enough of it.

Harley fell into the second category. He loved a lot of things, being the natural sensualist that he was. He loved chocolate and strawberries, the tingle of champagne under his nose and the taste of a fine brandy on his tongue, soft skin and hard muscles, silk pajamas and flannel sheets, gentle caresses and savage bites, a good back rub and a bubble bath, cuddling and kissing.

But there wasn't anything in thisworld that Harley loved more, sensually speaking, than a beautiful, hard cock in his mouth.

As a result, the boy wasn't merely good at it - he wasextraordinary.

~~~

Part XIV: "Baby Brother"

Trey had a raging hard-on, his dick long and thick and pointing straight up, with a shimmering of his own juices and his brother's spit on its pink head. Harley's hand was wrapped around the base of it, squeezing it tightly and releasing it again. The boy was just staring at Trey's cock, admiring it and panting for it like he didn't have one of his own, aching and hard again between his legs.

Harley shifted slightly, turning around so he was facing his brother's feet, sliding his body next to Trey's with his hip nestled up against the man's shoulder. He ran his tongue, flat, soft, and wet down Trey's dick, his fingers digging into his brother's legs where his soft, toned thighs ended and his hips began.

Harley really loved that spot.

He took Trey's erection back into his mouth, sucking him hard and swallowing him deep, washing his balls with his tongue, taking his time and eating his brother up like some sort of rich, decadent dessert.

Trey had one hand on Harley's head, his fingers threading through the silky curls, urging the boy on but not forcing him down. His other hand was on Harley's ass; he kneaded one firm cheek and then the other, pausing occasionally to drag his fingers slowly between them, teasing at the ridged muscle ringing his hole.

The rise and fall of Trey's belly as he was sucked, the surging of his hips, the sound of his labored breathing and his erotic little whimpers were making Harley so hot that his own dick was dripping.

With every muscle in his body tensing and a guttural, gasping moan escaping his mouth, Trey shot his load into his brother's mouth, a warm, thick cheekful of it. Harley's eyes fluttered closed, his fist wrapped around the shaft of Trey's cock, squeezing it in an upward motion to force every last drop out onto his waiting tongue, better than chocolate. The boy let it pool in mouth, dipping the tip of his tongue into the space between the root of it and his front teeth, savoring the tangy, salty-sweet, intoxicating flavor.

"Don't swallow," Trey said breathily, suddenly sitting up. He cupped his hand under Harley's chin. "Spit it out."

Harley looked confused, hurt even, like a kid on Halloween who'd just worked hard at trick-or-treating and had then been told he wasn't allowed to eat the candy he'd collected. Trey licked his lips and nodded pleadingly, his breath still coming in raspy bursts.

Puzzled still but complying anyway, Harley bent his head over and spat into his brother's hand. The pearly fluid he expelled, Trey's semen mixed with his own saliva, was now a bit less thick and sticky from melting in the warmth of his mouth.

Trey sat back against the headboard, stuffing a pillow behind himself with his unoccupied hand. "Come here, baby brother."

A sharp little moan squeaked out of Harley. He laved his tongue over his lips, the pungent taste of Trey still clinging to them. He was trembling from head to toe: he simply couldn't help his reaction, emotional and extremely physical, when Trey called him that.

Baby brother. Or even justbrother, the relative age specific not mattering much.

That was ahuge part of this for Harley, an enormous factor of the appeal. Surely, Harley would have been attracted to a man like Trey regardless. If Harley had a certain 'type' that he was drawn to, his brother more than qualified. Trey was gorgeous, tall and athletic, smart, undoubtedly masculine, with a fine sense of humor, and he was incredible in bed. But in the final analysis, the one thing that separated Trey from any ordinarily attractive, smart, manly, witty, skilled lover was the fact that hewasindeed Harley's brother.

Harley didn't know why that was, why the fact that his lover was his ownbrother turned him on so much, why it got him so inordinately fired up, so hot and hard that he thought he'd either explode or implode from just the mere thought of it. It didn't make any sense to Harley; it was dirty, filthy, nasty, forbidden, undeniably kinky, unquestioningly depraved, and admittedly obscene - and yet for some bizarre, inexplicable reason it was also hotter for him than walking in bare feet across lit coals.

"Come up here, baby," Trey said in a hushed voice, patting his lap.

Harley turned around and crawled up the mattress, throwing one leg over his brother's thighs to straddle his lap, facing him. He ran his hands up Trey's smooth chest, over his strong shoulders, wrapping his hands around the back of his brother's neck.

Trey's fingers slid around Harley's cock, lubed up from the combination of his own come and Harley's champagne-enhanced spit. The boy leaned forward, resting his chin on his older brother's shoulder, his hips rocking in cadence to the slippery, up and down strokes that Trey's hand was administering.

"Uhh..." Harley moaned incoherently, thrusting his pelvis forward to fuck Trey's fist, "ahh... God... don't stop... don't stop.... umm... Trey... gonna come... ah, fuck... gonna come so hard..."

Trey increased the pace of his hand, stroking the soft, mobile skin over the beautifully hard shaft beneath it. He leaned his face against Harley's, kissing and licking the boy's soft cheek.

"Come for me, Harley," Trey whispered into the boy's ear, "God, you're so hard... come for me... come for me, little brother..." Harley moaned deep in his throat, and Trey pumped his cock even harder, twisting his hand so the head of it rubbed against his slicked up palm. The boy closed his eyes as his balls tightened up against his body, his head whipping back as he had no choice but to let go. With a shudder and a plaintive squeal, Harley shot off into the hot mix in Trey's fist. Sweat poured out of his body and his legs gave out as orgasm thundered through him, sending him falling into his older brother's chest.

Trey nuzzled his face into Harley's shoulder, and he gently licked at the soft, sweat-salty skin of the boy's neck. Smiling, he pressed his lips against his brother's ear.

"You okay, baby brother?" Trey asked with a grin, wrapping his arms around the still heaving torso in his arms.

"Damn..." Harley giggled through panting breaths, "where the fuck did you getthat idea?"

"What idea?" Trey inquired, his eyes opened wide with feinted innocence.

"The 'spit it out' thing, asshole."

"Oh, that..." Trey grinned. "Pornos, jerk, where else?"

"Eww... that's justgross," the younger man groaned. Harley hiccuped, still pretty drunk by not nearly so much as before.

"Like it?" Trey inquired, grinning like an ornery kid.

Harley sat back on his legs, still straddling Trey's thighs. His respiration was finally in check, and his knees felt like they were actually attached to his legs again. A rosy blush settled on his cheeks. "Well," he replied slowly,"... yeah. Pretty fuckin' hot."

Trey suddenly pushed Harley rudely off of his thighs, and the boy tumbled ungracefully onto the mattress beside him. "Sorry, my legs are getting numb."

Harley was face down on the bed, and Trey heard a muffled groan.

"Uh oh..."

"What now?" asked Trey.

"I... I don't feel so good... oh shit..."

Trey leapt out of bed, surprised at his own agility considering the fact that he was still feeling fairly fucked up and hangover symptoms were already moving in to replace it. "I'll be right back, baby brother."

The boy groaned again and gulped, obviously swallowing something chunky that Trey didn't even want to think about. "Where you going?" Harley managed to croak.

"To call Jake. Youknow I don't do puke."

~~~

Part XV: "Always Have..."

Trey flopped down on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them from the overhead light that Jake had turned on when they'd entered the bedroom.

Harley wasn't in the room. Jake, having 'been there, done that' more times than he wanted to remember, knew exactly where he'd find the poor kid.

Jake leaned against the doorjamb of the adjoining bathroom, his arms folded casually across his chest and a grin on his handsome face. "Problems, Princess?"

Harley turned his head and looked up, scowling from his crouched position in front of the toilet. "This isso not good," he managed to say before leaning his face into the commode.

Jake winced as Harley retched. "Petrone's not nearly so pleasant on the return trip, is it, Love?"

The boy gagged and sputtered. He pulled some toilet tissue off of the roller and wiped his mouth with it, then tossed the wadded ball of paper into the john to join the contents of his stomach. With a truly forlorn look on his face, tears began to leak from his pretty blue eyes.

"Jake..." the boy bleated through pouting, trembling lips. "Help me... I think I'm gonna die. I'm so-" He got caught short in mid-sentence and had to lean back over the toilet bowl, his body breaking out into a cold sweat as his stomach forcefully ejected more of the alcohol.

The Englishman shook his head softly. He walked over and knelt beside Harley, running his hand up the boy's soft back to gather up the long, beautiful honey-gold curls in his fingers.

A promise was, after all, a promise.

"You'll be okay, Harley," Jake cooed soothingly. "Don't worry, I'm right here."