How far is too far?

It's something Nick finds himself wondering a lot these days. And even more these nights, lying awake in the room he's shared with his twin brother Ben ever since they were kids.

Because lately Nick's been finding himself kind of, well, listening. Listening tense in the dark for the noises to begin. And when they do, listening to them with what he knows is too much attention, listening with his eyes squeezed shut and his heart pounding as the bed creaks and Ben starts to pant and the faint slick slap of flesh on flesh sounds from under the blanket.

And sometimes he can't help himself, sometimes he has to touch himself afterwards. And sometimes...

Sometimes, now, he has to touch himself during, his strokes taking on the same rhythm as Ben's, his own breath heavy in his ears until he comes way too hard and tries not to think about it as he falls asleep afterwards.

But he's afraid that the not-thinking isn't going to work anymore. Not after last night. Last night he'd looked. He still doesn't know what had made him open his tightly shut eyes, but he had, and he'd looked over at Ben's bed in the moonlight, and seen Ben...

Seen Ben looking at him. His hand moving under the blankets like Nick's own and his dark mirror-image eyes staring over at him in a way that made Nick feel.

And this is where things start to get blurry for him. It's not like they're, you know, touching each other. It's not even a circle-jerk, and he's heard plenty of guys talk about those. So he doesn't think it can be so wrong. But he's starting to think that a right thing can become a wrong thing without the thing itself changing at all.

And it's what this thing makes him feel that really scares him. That makes him wonder where all the lines and limits have gone. Because the way Ben looked at him made him feel too much, too much too deep too fast. A weirdly hollow and echoey feeling, as though the feeling were something he could fall into and just keep falling without anything to stop him.

And that feeling, well, 'too far' doesn't even come close.

There's a certain relief, thinks Ben, to putting it into words. To stripping away the layers of fear and lies and acknowledging—even if just to himself—what it is he really wants.

It makes him feel calm and quiet inside. And that surprises him. He would have expected this truth to bring the walls crashing down around him. And true enough he can feel some raw, rough edges inside himself, places that feel broken. But he thinks they're just the places where the lies have been demolished, and without them his world feels strangely peaceful.

Bigger, too. In fact it scares him a little how big the world has suddenly become, now that the possibilities have opened up before him. Eventually he'll have to choose what to do with his new knowledge, whether to try and stop this thing, or... not. But for the moment he's content to sit quietly and consider his truth. The thing he knows he wants.

It's Nicky. His brother. His twin. Wants him, like he's never wanted anything or anyone before. Wants his touch and his love and his strong solid nakedness pressed up against him like a reflection of his own. Wants to feel what he can now admit he's been imagining, Nicky's cock and not his own swelling in his hand at night.

And he supposes, if he's being completely honest, that his decision has been made already. If he really wanted this to stop he would have drawn back long ago. Would have pulled away the moment he realised the truth—why wrestling with Nick makes him feel so strange, tense and light-headed and beneath it all oddly desolate. Why he never passed on the note from the girl at school who slipped it into Ben's locker by mistake. Why he didn't push harder for his own room when Mom mentioned they could refinish the space over the garage. Why, at night sometimes, the soft simple sound of Nicky's breathing kept him awake like a red-hot band drawing tighter and tighter around his chest until the only thing that stopped it was to reach beneath the blankets and jerk himself roughly to a shuddering finish, while he told himself he wasn't thinking about his brother, not like that.

And Ben's had his share of girls, even (though he doesn't think Nick knows this,) a boy or two as well. He knows lust. He even thought he knew love, but this, this is different. It feels like without Nick he's lame, halt, incomplete, aching with a strange starved ache deep inside of him.

And he thinks.... he thinks he thinks he thinks... he thinks he saw in Nicky's eyes that Nicky wants him too.

And another week rolled slowly by until Friday night came round again.

Nick was in the bathroom when the knock came. "Nick!" Ben called through the door, "What are you doing in there, getting ready for the fucking prom? I'd like to get to bed before it's time for breakfast, you know!"

Nick watched his own face go red in the mirror. He wasn't doing anything more incriminating than flossing his teeth, but ...

Not prom-night, no, just another Friday night at home. But it feels... there's that feeling in his belly, half tense, half expectant, a nervous flutter like tonight was, yeah, Prom Night, Grad Night, the Big Game, something. Like something... like something was going to happen tonight. Something big.

And he's trying hard not to think about what that might be. Just another Friday night, after all, and he and Ben had stayed up to watch the late show, fought half-heartedly over the last of the popcorn. There's nothing different about this night to explain that flutter in his belly, the red stain still marking his high cheek-bones. To explain why, when he looks at the mirror, his eyes are filled with a strange new shine that makes them look paradoxically darker than ever, hazel turned to deep rich corduroy brown.

Nothing different, but everything feels different. Has felt different since the moment he opened his eyes and met Ben's watching him. Neither one of them has mentioned it, but it's been echoing in him all week, that moment, and it's opened something inside of him that he can't seem to close off. Even if he wanted to. And he's starting to think now that maybe he doesn't want to.

"I'm just," he said, and cleared his throat, mouth suddenly dry, 'I'm just flossing my teeth. You can come in if you want."

"Flossing?" said Ben incredulously as he burst through the door. "Showering and flossing? What's up with you, hygiene boy?"

Nick didn't answer. Ben was wearing nothing but the boxers he usually slept in, and he didn't know why that should be a shock, but the room seemed suddenly crowded with Ben's broad bare shoulders, his long bare legs. He moved past Nick to the toilet, and as Nick heard him start to piss he kept his gaze pinned firmly to the counter, feeling goose-bumps travel up his spine.

"Seriously, though," said Ben, and this time his voice sounded concerned, "What is up with you? You've been acting weird all week. Are you OK?"

Caught by surprise, Nick looked up and saw himself in the mirror again, his eyes suddenly wide. Trapped. There were safe answers he knew he could give—//it's nothing/ just school/ there's this girl//—but it was an unspoken rule of their twinhood that they didn't lie to each other, not when it mattered. "I, Um, I—" he said, then stopped, his face no longer red but white and tense, his hands shaking.

"Is this..." said Ben, and Nick could hear nervousness in his twin's voice too, "Is this about... last Friday?"

In the mirror Nick watched Ben turn around and then both their faces were visible in the glass, Ben's with same dark unruly hair, the same square chin and broad cheekbones now stained the same red Nicky's had been just moments ago. And when Nick met his gaze in the mirror he saw the same strange dark shine in Ben's eyes, and it felt like the floor had dropped from beneath him. Because he could see it. Ben knew. And Ben...

The same edge of panic on both their faces now. Because Ben... Ben felt it too.

"Ben," he said hoarsely, half plea, half protest.

Ben moved forward until he was up against Nick's back. "Shut up Nick, please, please, just shut up!" he said. Then he dropped his face into the crook of Nick's neck.

Nick could feel Ben's eyelashes, Ben's mouth, his open lips and the rush of hot breath against his skin, not quite a kiss yet but Ben just breathing him in, and he couldn't help it, he groaned aloud.

So bright, the light in the bathroom. Harsh and white and gleaming off the tiles, no way to hide from this. Suddenly he needed to look Ben in the face. He turned against the press of Ben's body until they were chest to chest, face to face, and looked into his eyes again, so much desire there, so much fear and love, and it was a force as irresistible as gravity that drew him forward until their mouths met. Ben's mouth opened to him and when their tongues pressed together Nick felt his heart start to pound so hard it scared him, like he might actually die of this.

Groin-to-groin too now, and god, he could feel Ben's cock, feel him getting hard. His brother's hard cock.

And he had to pull away at that thought. Ben tried to follow him for a moment, leaning forward, mouth still partly open. "Oh fuck," Nick said, his voice hoarse, "We can't do this."

"We are doing it," said Ben, low and urgent. "You know it as well as I do, we've been heading for this for ... a long time now, I think. You can't tell me that you haven't felt it, that you don't want it." He slid a hand between them then, touched where Nick's cock pressed hard against the towel knotted around his waist.

He couldn't lie about that. His cock was as hard as Ben's own, harder maybe, and as Ben touched him through the towel all the reasons why this was so wrong grew dim in his mind. When Ben took his hand away to unknot the towel Nick heard himself protest at the loss.

And then... his cock in his brother's hand. Too far for certain and no going back from it, not now. "Tell me how you like it, Nicky," said Ben softly.

No going back. Nick met Ben's eyes and said, "You know. You've watched me."

Funny hiccup of air from Ben at that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, and Nick had to follow it with his own, kissing him more deeply this time, harder, as Ben's hand started to move. And Christ he did know, his hand knew just the right rhythm, thumb sweeping over his cockhead, teasing the join, and soon Nick thought the only thing keeping him upright was the counter behind him, and he couldn't stop the muffled, embarrassing noises that came from the back of his throat.

Then Ben wasn't kissing him anymore, he was whispering something urgent and questioning in his ear, and Nick didn't know what he was asking but couldn't imagine refusing him anything, so he nodded.

And Ben knelt at his feet. Nick's cock was still clutched in his hand, and he stared at it a little nervously, and Nick felt a rush like all his insides had just turned over. His balls were pulled up tight already and he dug his nails into his palms as Ben leant forward and rubbed his lower lip against Nick's cockhead. "Careful!" gasped Nick, but Ben was opening his mouth, taking it in, hot and, and wet, and Nick thrust forward helplessly a few times before the sight was too much for him, his brother's mouth stretched around his cock. His body jerked as he came, making Ben cough and splutter.

"Sorry, sorry," gasped Nick, but Ben didn't look upset. His own cock was poking hard out of the slit in his boxers, the head slick and wet with precum, and he wrapped his hand around it and started jerking it quickly. "No, wait," Nick gasped and, weak-kneed, slid down against the front of the counter until he sat on the floor, legs splayed around where Ben was kneeling. Then he reached out one shaking hand and wrapped it around Ben's own.

"Fast," husked Ben, "hard and fast, oh Nicky—" and Nick obliged, their hands entwined, working Ben fast until he arched and pumped desperately into the rhythm, until his cock thickened and pulsed in Nick's hand and he shot so hard his first jet hit him in the chin. Then he fell forward, pressing his head into Nick's neck again, breathing so hard Nick wondered if he was crying.

His face was dry when he finally pulled away, though, grunting, "Ow, my knees," as he rose unsteadily to his feet. There was come on his face and chest, on Nick's hand, on the tiles, and Nick felt himself going red again as he looked at it. He grabbed his towel from the floor and tried to wipe it up while Ben cleaned himself and straightened the bathmat and the scattered toiletries on the counter. It was a moment of frantic, awkward bustle, neither of them meeting each other's eyes, and with every second that passed Nick felt his heart beat faster, panic rising higher in him, christ, too far too far too far, what had they done?

"Nicky?" Ben said, turning to him, and he sounded shaky too. Then he put his
hand on the back of Nick's neck and pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. "It's OK, it's fine, we're fine, Nick. Right?" he said. His watching eyes were a dark blur only inches away, and there was that bottomless feeling again, Nick poised right on the edge of it.

"Yeah," he said after a long moment, and stepped closer, feeling their bodies meet perfectly at every point. "We're just fine."

 

©2002 Audrey Lemon - Contributor's Bio