ASHTON:

    My mom and my grandparents were lovely people, they really were, but even lovely people make mistakes. In their case, the biggest mistake they made – at least regarding me – was that they did what they could to keep my father out of my life.

    I nurtured no delusions that my dad was the best father in the world or anything. He only dropped by sporadically, even when I knew he could do more. Still, Mom's family was also determined to make things as difficult for him as possible. A few years ago, when Grandpa got an offer to transfer to Pittsburgh, he jumped at it even though it didn't sound much more lucrative than his previous position. My mother, unsurprisingly, insisted that we have to move east as well, since my grandparents had always helped take care of me. 

    Ever since the move, I hadn't seen my biological dad. I did get a step-dad, however, and I couldn't really hate on him cuz he was a nice guy. He and Mom had three more kids and I loved all my siblings, even though I was significantly older than them. As time went by, I hardly thought about my birth father, and no one around me mentioned him. That is, until Dad ended up in prison, and my grandparents "let it slip" in front of me, probably in hopes that it would make me give up any hopes of reconciliation with him. 

    For a while, it actually did. That is, until a few months later, when I received a letter – an actual paper letter – from my father. He wanted to let me know that he was out of prison and trying to make amends with the rest of the family, and that included me. He was living back in his childhood home, right next door to his brother. Even my half-brother (who I'd never met) had gone there for a visit. So if I wanted to, I had a standing invitation.

    After mulling it over for a while, I figured the approaching spring break might be the perfect time to go stay with Dad. It was a four-and-a-half hour drive from Pittsburgh to his hometown of Phoenixville, so I felt like it made more sense to stay with him at least for a few days. Mom wasn't impressed and my grandparents even less so, but I was old enough to make my own decisions and they knew they couldn't keep me from him much longer, so they gave me their blessing.

    The hardest part about leaving Pittsburgh for a week was having to deal with my boyfriend. Things between us were rocky as is, and he threatened to break up if I decided to go. My response? "Cool. That's settled, then."

    Truth is, I jumped into that relationship way too quickly after breaking up with my ex-girlfriend. It was my first proper relationship with a guy and although it was fun at times, it also had its fair share of drama. Not to mention: the sex was… pretty bad. For some reason, the fact that I was bisexual made him assume that I was always a top. Now, although I didn't mind fucking a guy, I also REALLY enjoyed being fucked by one. So sexually, my ex and I simply weren't compatible, which just added to the tension, exacerbated by the fact that he was also a drama queen in general.

    Free from that ball and chain, I made my way to Phoenixville. Mom and Dad both drove and met at a halfway point. Once there, my mother refused to get out of the car, leading to a rather awkward one-on-one encounter between my father and me.

    "You remember me?" he said with a smile.

    "Yeah, sure," I said, even though most of my memories were pretty hazy by this point.

    After the initial uneasiness, the conversation actually flowed quite well. We talked about school and me starting college in the fall. The good thing about not seeing each other for so long was that there were plenty of things to catch up on; and in general I was the type of person who could talk for hours. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a cul-de-sac named Stag Meadow Lane, and I saw the house where my father had grown up for the very first time.

    "You can have this room," my father said, helping me carry my suitcase up. "You brother Malik stayed here a couple of months ago when he was here. There's also another bedroom, a large one, but that was your Grandpa Reggie's and… well, you probably don't wanna sleep there."

    "Malik will actually be here tomorrow," Dad told me next. "So we'll need to figure out a sleeping arrangement once he gets here. Maybe I'll sleep on the couch or somethin'."

    "I don't mind sharing this room. If you have some sort of a blowup mattress, you can set it up here and Malik can have it," I said, pointing at the ample empty space in the room. Truth was, I was quite eager to get to know my half-brother. I knew sharing a room could be a pain, but it was only for a week so whatever. 

    "I don't think I have a mattress, but maybe Emmett does. That's your uncle. As a matter of fact, we can go visit him now if you want," Dad suggested.

    "Sure, let's go," I smiled.

    We went two doors down to #8, where I met Dad's younger brother. Once again, I went through my spiel, mostly talking about school. When we were done it was already late and time to go to bed. I fell asleep with a smile on my face. Today, I'd reconnected with Dad and I'd met my uncle. And tomorrow, I'd be meeting my brother for the first time!​

—

    Malik arrived in the late morning. His mom lives just two towns over, so it was much easier for him to get here. The first item on the agenda was figuring out where everyone would sleep. Our Uncle Emmett had lent us a blowup mattress, and Malik agreed to set it up in "my" room, seeing as he was already used to sleeping in it. 

    "Growing up, I was an only child, so I've never shared a room," he said to me when the two of us were alone in the bedroom. "This is my first time."

    "I grew up an only child too," I said, happy to see we had more things in common. "But now I share with my brother, who's much younger than me."

    "Yeah? How's that?" Malik asked.

    "It's whatever. It's never been a problem, other than the couple of times he walked in on me making out with my ex-girlfriend," I laughed.

    "Yikes. Awk-ward," said Malik.

    "Not as awkward as when he walked in on me kissing my ex-boyfriend after that."

    "Oh, so you're…"

    "Bi, yeah," I nodded. "Why, you don't have a problem with that?"

    "Of course not, man," Malik said. "I'm gay."

    "Oh," I said. "Well, that's… cool."

    "Cool," Malik nodded and smiled.

    "Cool," I smiled back.

—

    That night, I couldn't fall asleep and I knew I wasn't the only one. It was past 1 AM, and Malik was still tossing and turning on his air mattress non-stop.

    "You alright?" I asked in the dark.

    "Nah, this air mattress sucks," he complained. "I should've made you flip a coin for it."

    "Ha! And why would I agree to that when I already got the bed?" I asked.

    "Because you're my big brother, you're supposed to look out for me," Malik quipped.

    "Well I was here first," I reminded him.

    "Nuh-huh! I was here in January," he said. Then, there was a brief moment of silence, followed by some rumbling that made it sound like Malik was getting up off his mattress. Next thing I know, someone was trying to get in bed next to me. "Scoot over," Malik said, his voice coming from just a few inches away.

    "The hell?" I asked. I wasn't angry, just taken aback more than anything. 

    "Well if you won't let me have the bed we gon have to share," Malik said matter-of-factly. "Cuz I ain't gon get no sleep on that mattress."

    I'd gone to bed in my boxers, and I'd noticed Malik was wearing boxer briefs earlier. This felt a bit awkward, but at least we weren't fully nude which would've made it a whole lot weirder.

    "You okay?" Malik whispered. I opened my eyes and I could just about make out his face, turned in my direction. It was a small bed – the bed our Uncle Emmett slept on as a child – so there wasn't much room with two people sharing.

    "I'm fine," I said, moving my legs to make myself comfortable and wrapping them around my brother's legs in the process. I made it sound like I wasn't thrilled with this but frankly… I thought it was kinda nice for my brother and me to share a bed like this. We didn't know each other when we were little, and this was the sort of thing boys might do when growing up together.

    We lay in silence, facing each other, the distance between us small enough for us to feel one another's breath on our faces. It was a chilly night so feeling someone's body heat made it much more comfortable now. I adjusted my legs once again, so my right leg was now sandwiched between my brother's legs. I felt his thighs giving it a squeeze, and it sent shivers up my spine.

    This all reminded me of my first time having sex with my ex-boyfriend. I was sleeping over at his house, back before we were officially dating. I was supposed to sleep on the floor but he invited me into his bed, where one thing led to another and I ended up fucking his ass and cumming in it. The memory had its effect on me, making my dick rise at this inopportune moment.

    "You… getting hard?" Malik whispered teasingly, probably able to feel my boner with his leg.

    "Fuck off and go to sleep," I told him.

    "Mmmm. You liking this, ain't ya? No need to be ashamed. Here, I got a secret for ya."

    Then, my brother – who I'd known for less than 24 hours – took my hand and placed it on his crotch. There, I could feel his throbbing dick, which felt even harder than mine! I could swear I ever felt a wet patch of what must be precum on Malik's boxer briefs.

    "Can– Can I ask you something?" I stuttered. Malik had let go of my hand, but I still kept it pressed up against his prick.

    "Sure, go for it," my brother said.

    "You… You said you were gay. Do you usually… top or bottom?"

    "Why?" he asked, and I could tell that he was smiling even though I couldn't see his face clearly.

    "Just curious. I… I usually like to bottom when I'm with another guy. But… I haven't done it in a while."

    Just as I said that, I felt my brother's right hand on the small of my back. Slowly, it started sliding downward, until it was moving past the loose waistband of my boxers, slipping inside and squeezing one of my asscheeks. Then, Malik's fingers roamed toward my crack. The heat I was feeling – both physical and sexual – was making me sweat, and my perspiration made it easier and smoother for my brother's fingers to dig deeper inside my crack, until they'd made contact with my asshole, which started pulsing.

    "Turn around," Malik whispered in my ear, as my fingers wrapped themselves fully around his dick and gave it a firm squeeze.​