Chapter 30

Wednesday, September 19th, 2012

Content Warning: Sexual Content (Explicit) | Violence | References to Child Sex Abuse / Incest

Pleasure reverberated across the walls. A symphony of heat and ecstasy sending the temperature of the room soaring.

The constant thrusting.

The constant pounding.

And the constant guttural groans and grunts from both boys created a delightful thoroughfare that they were desperate enough to reach but would enjoy paving the way towards. The gasping bottom, his blond hair splayed out on the pillow, gazed up at his partner with grass-green eyes. Lightning repeatedly struck down at them as the pale, black-haired male rapidly forced his hips in between his lover's spread thighs over and over. His heavily muscular body flexed and bulged, sweat dripping off and mixing with the dampness across the toned torso of the blond's lean body.

They truly were complete opposites, which was why they worked so well together. From their hair color right down to their expressions of gratification. While the noirette noises were gruff and angry, rough rumbles from deep within his broad chest, the blond's face almost seemed like he was crying out in pain, the pleasure coursing through his veins too much to take. His mouth was a perfect O, and he couldn't keep his eyes open for very long, squeezing them shut as he was continuously speared and stretched.

"Shit, Flo," the top moaned loudly even as he thrust. "Why do ya let me do this to you?"

The bottom squinted at the noirette above him, just barely making out the words. He bit his lip. "Hm?"

"Let me mark you? Filthy your flower up and fuck it t' nothin', huh? You like it!? You love this shit!?"

Somehow, someway, the noirette sped up, the light smacks of flesh becoming hard, quick slaps. The increased friction below heightened their lust and bliss to its peak, and the blond practically screamed. The length inside him steeled even further. Enlarged until he was almost sure it would rip him in half. They were both so close. So close, he could feel it.

The lightning-eyed boy leaned down and bit into the soft, sweaty skin of his partner, harshly whispering, "I need an answer, baby. Now!"

His hot breath only sent another wave of pleasure, this one nearly making him explode. Still, he was able to form a jumble of words together throughout it all.

"N-No! I-I-It's because… ah!"

"Why!?"

"B-Because… I-I love you!"

That did it.

And before the blond could open his mouth wide to cry out, the noirette hurriedly attached his lips to it, swallowing and delivering his own bellow as they detonated into white-hot flames of passion and amorous devotion-

West gasped as his eyes flew open, huffing in sudden exhaustion despite having slept his required eight hours. Delightful tingles pricked the nerves of his body while he lay there in his bed, remnants of the vivid dream he just erupted out from still a pile of salvageable pieces in the back of his brain. The cool air of his bedroom washed over his hot skin, alerting him to another sensation, this one wet and running down the line of his solid abs.

Looking down at himself, he recognized the white splatter of liquid drenching his stomach and torso, a string of it still dripping from his raised, semi-hard dick.

Did I just jerk off in my sleep?

Or did he not touch himself at all?

West dropped his head back down and groaned, flushing with embarrassment. Hopefully, he didn't shout his release as he did in his dream. If his parents or Ophelia were to hear that…

The blond closed his eyes, willing that image away. It had to come to a head at some point. He had attempted to get into the art of suppressing his thoughts whenever he was amongst friends. His paranoia was at a level where a mere half-chub could forewarn a bloodhound like Kaspar to what his cousin was up to. And sleeping with the enemy was a dangerous offense. It hadn't gotten that far, but if Neil were to demand such a thing, having gotten a taste in his dream, West didn't think he would be able to resist for long.

He sighed and placed a moist hand over his eyes. "What the hell is happening to me?"

-

West didn't see the object of his dreams until after school during football practice. The blond couldn't help but glance at the half-naked, burly noirette in the corner of the locker room as they changed into their football gear. The longer he looked, the worse the stirring below got. He needed to stop, he knew, but it was like pulling two magnets apart.

"Still can't believe they made it on the team with nothing to show for it."

Justin's voice made West flinch, hurriedly snapping his attention to his tall friend before he noticed his wandering eyes.

"Maybe they tried out during the open house or something?"

"Come on, now," Justin rolled his eyes. "I know neither of us believes that for a freakin' second. Whoever sent them here probably threatened the coaches into letting them in. The, uh, Tuct Side S's. You know, we never found out what that last word was."

True, but West was too preoccupied with the thoughts and taste of somebody else.

"I know. You'd think we'd hear it by now."

"You talkin' about us over there, J-Dog?" Shaun addressed them loudly from where he, Enzo, and Neil were. "Flower Boy?"

That got the three of them death glares from most of the team, though, the dyed blond only laughed heartily.

"Fuck off!" Justin flipped him off.

West tapped his friend on the shoulder. "Chill."

When he looked up again, he found Neil's stormy eyes on him, narrowed and heated. West swallowed but stared back. Then the bigger boy had to smirk, causing him to blush. God, it was like he was completely under the lightning-eyed male's control.

Practice was done with a frustrating boner.

It was like carrying extra weight between his legs, making his sit-ups and push-ups that much more difficult. Tackling drills were the worst. West could only hope his teammates had mistaken his hardness for a protection cup. Apparently, the universe was playing a sick joke on him today because his dick didn't even start to calm down until the end of practice.

Sweat dampened his hair and the training undershirt he wore as he trudged back toward the school building, drinking from a half-filled water bottle. He had lost sight of Neil a few minutes ago, his lightning-eyed rival vanishing before he could lock back on to him again. If he was gone, then there was nothing left to do but shower, change, and head on straight to Tuct-In for his shift.

"..fuck you doin' here!?"

West froze.

Neil.

"Someone needs t' be on your ass! You had a job to do an' you ain't doin' shit!"

Bran.

Judging by the direction of the harsh whisper-yelling, they were near the back entrance of the cafeteria kitchen. It was a narrow alleyway where the dumpster and recycle bin sat at the end, the gross smell of spoiled food and waste wafting in the contained area. However, that didn't seem to stop the brothers from their row.

"I'm handling it. Now, get lost!"

"No shit, you ain't!" Bran spat lividly. "You and your fuckbuddies have been dawdlin' around for weeks and still haven't made any doe! God, I knew it! I knew he'd let you slack off! Just 'cause you're givin' up your ass for 'im!"

There was a metal bang before Neil retorted, his voice rougher and louder. "Shut the fuck up, you hear me!? We don't do anything. I haven't let 'im on me for years and I don't plan on it ever again!"

An icy pit opened up in West's stomach. "Givin' up your ass for 'im" could mean so many things, but hearing it now, and taking recent findings into consideration, it could only mean one thing.

Bran went on, and the blond could hear the slimy smirk in his voice as he spoke again. "Oh, but that's not true, is it, lil' bro? You'd let him fuck that hole raw if you had to, right?"

"Enough with your bullshit! Get to th' fuckin' point!"

"I already stretched you wide open and it got boring after a while, but H liked pretty, broken things like you. Stole you right from underneath me, and now, he ain't ever gonna let you go. Well, until I find some new things to play with."

Neil snorted, somehow finding amusement in that ugly statement. "You're such a dumbass. Of course, you wouldn't see it since you're such an empty-headed motherfucker, but I do. Our cuz fuckin' loves me! Love loves me."

"Only 'cause I had you!" the older Morterero practically screamed in his rage. "I got everything on tape and pictures an' I showed it to him during our visits, thinking he'd let me into the Saturns if I offered you up, but he kept askin' for more! Got obsessed with you an' snatched you away but only 'cause I had you first!"

Bile rose in West's throat at that, but through the horror and disgust, he latched onto the one specific name that stood out.

Saturns.

The Tuct Side… Saturns.

Bran huffed, suddenly amused amidst his ire. "But I wonder if I got someone new. Someone your age when I made your little pussy bleed th' first time. Would he want you then?"

"No."

Just that one word came out so cold and dead, West started to tremble. Alarm surged through him, afraid the two would hear his shaking.

"Don't try an' tell me different, lil' bro," Bran chuckled darkly. "I already know 'bout that tiny, lil' bitch you decided to take care of."

The silence shifted the air to subzero levels, and West's mind clicked with horrifying realization.

Gia. He was talking about Gia.

The sick, twisted man laughed again, sounding like ragged coughs. "I wonder if her cunt'll be as tight as yours was. Christ, all that fuckin' blood once I-"

Thwack!

The sharp noise of a vicious punch resounded, making West yelp, followed by a thump, a large body dropping to the ground. It didn't stop there, though. More and more cutting strikes echoed through the alley, seemingly never-ending. It took every ounce of energy for West to move his legs and come out of his hiding spot. The sight before him was satisfactory, dreadful, relieving, and appalling all at once.

Neil, red with untapped fury, straddled his brother's legs as he delivered fist after fist into Bran's face and gut. The older sibling attempted to block and throw back as much as he could, but despite being brawnier, he was simply no match for his younger brother's wrath. The hits that Neil took were like flea bites as he swung and swung, never appearing to tire.

"Piece o' fuckin' shit! I'll kill you!" he bellowed. "You hear me!? I'll fucking kill you!"

For a moment, West wanted to just sit there and watch the noirette pummel his repulsive brother into the ground. One less pedophile in the world could only be a good thing. But would Neil get away with it with the gang they belonged to? If Bran were to die right now, would this be the last time he saw the younger Morterero?

That thought alone snapped the blond into action.

"Neil! Neil! Stop!" he sprinted to the wailing noirette, who cocked back for another punch.

Bran was already out cold, face coated in so much blood West couldn't tell which parts have been rearranged.

"I'll kill you if you touch her! I'll kill you!" Neil was shouting hysterically, his voice cracking and dilated blue eyes unseeing.

West wasn't sure if Neil was actually aware of anything right now. He placed himself behind the latter, locked his arms under and over, holding Neil in a full nelson. It was a struggle to pull the raging lightning-eyed boy back, being as huge as he was, but West somehow managed, but only because Neil abruptly began to violently quiver.

"Please, man! Stop!" the blond begged. "He's already out! You gotta stop!"

"You- You-"

Suddenly, both boys were on the ground, Neil's big body wrapped around in West's arms. Blood caked his fists and flecks of it splattered across his muscular arms and newly bruised face. Those stormy orbs were lost to West, shut tightly behind unrelenting eyelids.

"Neil? Are you-"

A crimson hand grabbed at West's right pec, clutching on for dear life, painting his training undershirt red. To the blond's utter astonishment, Neil started rocking himself, sobbing as a couple of stubborn tears succeeded in getting past his lids and down his blood-wetted cheeks. "I can't let 'im! I can't let him touch her! Not her!"

"I know! I know! But you can't protect her if you're in hot shit with the others, right?"

"Please. Please. Please. Please! Not again!"

West's heart split in two at the sight of the broken boy in his arms. It was as if he regressed to a small, defenseless, and hurt child trying to make himself small in front of the monsters overhead. His voice went high-pitched, or as much as it could with its deep baritone. West felt tears of his own well up as he hugged the crying noirette to him.

"Hey, Neil? I-It's-"

"¡No mas por favor! ¡No más! ¡Duele mucho! ¡No más!"

No more, please! No more! It hurts so bad! No more!

West was no expert in Spanish, but he knew enough from previous classes to discern that string of words. What had his older brother done to this boy? Even looking at the man now, unconscious and unmoving, he still felt like the big bad bogeyman waiting to trap them in his darkness.

For a bit, the two just sat there. Neil wept in mental anguish while West comforted him the best he could. Things started to simmer down about five minutes later, and Neil stopped his sobbing, moving out of the blond's embrace and gazing at his surroundings in confusion. When his eyes found Bran, still inactive, he shot up to his feet.

"Shit!"

West awkwardly picked himself up, eyes on the noirette in concern. "Dude? Are you okay? I-"

"Th' fuck are you doin' here, Flower Boy!?" Neil spun toward him, face contorting back into his default anger. Though, there was a tiny flicker of panic. "Have you- Have you been listening the whole time!?"

West wasn't offended in the least. If anything, he felt like crap. Because he eavesdropped and because he couldn't do enough to help Neil.

"I'm sorry-"

"God fuckin' dammit! You just cannot stop showin' up where you shouldn't be, can't you!?"

The blond let his rival spit and curse at him. Maybe it was what he needed after what just happened. He remained motionless even as the lightning-eyed boy got up in his face, noses nearly touching.

"What? Nothin' to say!? Nothin' now that you heard about what my fucktard brother did t' me, huh!? Not good enough for ya anymore!?"

"No!" West shook his head, suddenly needing to clarify. "That's not it at all! God, he's a fucking monster, Neil! You shouldn't have to-"

"Deal with him? I don't have to, but I do! That's the reality of the situation, Flo! That's been my entire life an' I can barely do shit to change it! I don't have the money or th' family to get me past all this! I've got nothin'!"

"That's not true!"

And West believed it, but Neil suddenly seemed exhausted, shoulders sagging as if the weight that was his problems was further added to. His expression shuttered as he spoke in a near-dead tone. "I told you once and I'll tell you again. Stay away. Stay away from all this. Stay away from him. Stay away from me. I can't-"

"I don't want to. Not if it means leaving you to get hurt. That's not me." West made sure determination filled his voice, hoping the other boy would just reach out for that metaphorical helping hand.

It looked like it would work, blue eyes flashing with surprise and just a minuscule hint of promise, but it was only for a moment. And West felt his hope go lost as that tired, sad look came back to Neil's face.

"Just… leave me alone, man."

And then, he was gone.

West stood in place for a minute or two before sighing out the pieces of his cracked heart. It wasn't over, he reminded himself. He could still help Neil and solve the mysteries of this small town, which were proving to be more daunting than he anticipated.

As he sauntered out the alleyway, he noticed a familiar black car parked haphazardly in the middle of the narrow street that led down to the football field. It must have been Bran's car. West remembered how he nearly plowed through a group of innocent bystanders that one time at Bradvons Park. Someone seriously needed his driver's license revoked. Although, it wouldn't surprise him in the least if the older Morterero had no license to begin with.

Then, an idea struck him.

Gazing back, the monstrous man was still dead to the world, his head in a pool of blood. West quickly hurried to the field to grab his equipment bag, digging out his phone and running toward the car. Urgency and fear made his heartbeat pick up several paces as he tiptoed to the back of the black car, thinking even the slightest sound could rouse the beast several feet away from him. He aimed the screen at the license plate and took a picture. Another image of the vehicle's profile and he was out of there.

He only took two pictures, but they were damning enough.

2012 Black Dodge Caravan

NYC-TSS