Something Like Thunder (19 page)

“Fine, you horndog. Just so you know, I had more romantic stuff planned.”

“Ugh.”

Nathaniel glanced over at him and saw the playful expression. They intended to make the most of their privacy, a prospect that made him nervous. This would be his first time. Caesar’s too, in a way, but at least he had experience being the giver rather than the receiver. Nathaniel was completely out of his element. He felt like he should be the one guiding Caesar as he did in other matters. Browsing porn hadn’t helped, since most movies followed a formula of rimming before shoving it in. A few forum posts had been a little more informative, if Nathaniel could trust them.

The walk was cut short when it started to rain, sending them running for the house.

“Again?” Nathaniel complained. “What did you do to piss off the gods of weather?”

“Just be glad we’re not actually camping.”

Once they were back inside the house, Caesar grabbed his hand. He was panting slightly, winded from their run, and this made him resemble an eager puppy, one that dragged him toward the bedroom.

Nathaniel felt like tugging in the opposite direction. “Should I light—”

“Nope!” Caesar said.

“Maybe we could—”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Do you need—”

“I’m ready,” Caesar said. “I’ll probably only last two seconds because you’ve been making me wait, but it’s going to be an awesome two seconds.”

Nathaniel gave in. He wanted this too. He just needed it to be perfect for Caesar, who didn’t seem to share these concerns, so Nathaniel left his worries at the bedroom door. He grabbed Caesar’s shoulder and spun him around. A kiss, an embrace, then he lifted Caesar off his feet and hobbled forward to throw him on the bed.

“That’s more like it!” Caesar said.

They began in their usual manner, using their mouths and hands to bring each other pleasure. After a frenzied beginning they slowed, intending to enjoy this rare seclusion. They brought each other to the brink multiple times, taking breaks in between to cool down. Then they would start again.

“I’m more than ready,” Caesar said.

Nathaniel reached for the lube, squeezing a line out along his finger like mustard on a hotdog. Caesar made the same connection and laughed as he rolled onto his stomach. “All you’re missing are some buns.”

“I think you can help me with that.” Nathaniel reached for Caesar’s butt, letting his finger slide up and down the crack. Then he carefully slid a finger inside, looking to Caesar for feedback.

“It’s fine,” he breathed. “I’ve been practicing. By myself,” he added when Nathaniel appeared concerned. “Try another. Two at the same time.”

Nathaniel did, his cock twitching when Caesar started to moan. After lubing himself, he flopped forward on his hands. Caesar flipped over, hips rising to meet him, legs wrapping around his waist. One of his hands reached down to position Nathaniel’s cock, the head rubbing against his hole. Then he nodded. Nathaniel pushed forward.

Caesar grimaced. “Okay,” he wheezed. “Uh. Ow!”

“Should I—”

“Don’t move! Actually…” Caesar shoved him away.

Nathaniel rolled over. “Not good?”

Caesar’s face remained contorted with pain. “You’re a little bigger than two fingers.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Caesar said, but he was only half hard now. “Can we just lay here a minute?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

What a disaster! Nathaniel flopped onto his back and silently chastised himself. If only he’d known better! There had to be some trick, or so many people wouldn’t be doing it. But somehow he had managed to mess it up.

“Okay,” Caesar said a while later. “Let’s try it again.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “We don’t have to.”

“I’m not a quitter,” Caesar said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Caesar sat up and swung a leg over Nathaniel’s hip. Then he settled down. Nathaniel had gone limp, but Caesar kept grinding his rump against him and thwapping his stomach with his rock-hard cock. “Come on now. Giddy up cowboy!”

Nathaniel laughed, which helped him relax. All but one part of him, which stood at attention again. He let Caesar remain in control. After applying more lube, they both held their breath as Caesar lowered himself. The movement seemed to take an eternity, but this time when Nathaniel eased inside, Caesar didn’t wince. He proceeded cautiously, moving a fraction of an inch each time before retreating again. Eventually the speed and depth of this motion increased, and their concentration turned to pleasure.

For once Caesar didn’t have much to say. As Nathaniel reached forward to touch him, all he could do was gasp. “Same time,” were the only words he managed.

“Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Caesar nodded. A few minutes later he took hold of himself and nodded emphatically. Nathaniel closed his eyes, his hands sliding over Caesar’s hips, which he gripped. Overwhelmed by euphoria, he forgot to be careful, thrusting hard and fast. Caesar seemed okay with this though, since his every breath was a moan. When Nathaniel felt hot liquid shoot across his stomach, he knew he didn’t have to hold back any longer. He groaned and grunted, pulling Caesar close as he snarled with release. He held on even as the piston slowed and slipped out. Caesar stayed trapped in his arms, his whole body shaking.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Caesar said. “That was intense.” After a few haggard breaths he added. “I want to do that to you.”

Nathaniel raised his head. “What?”

“Next time,” Caesar asked. “Why not? There aren’t any rules.”

“I guess,” Nathaniel said. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“A big strong guy like you?”

“Maybe you’re stronger,” Nathaniel conceded. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you are.”

“I don’t think so.” Caesar rolled off him, pushing himself up on his side. “Wanna hit the shower?”

“Not really. I feel clean enough.”

“Probably because you don’t have lube covering your ass. I feel like a glazed donut. Now come support me in the shower. I’m still shaky. Or do I need to file for divorce?”

“You’re the boss,” Nathaniel said. Funny thing was, he wasn’t sure if he meant it jokingly or not.

* * * * *

A thud woke Nathaniel. This happened a lot in the movies, the actor lying flat on their back so they could sit upright in shock. He wished he could do the same. Instead he was on his side, face sticky with drool. He opened his eyes blearily, noticing that Caesar’s half of the bed was empty. That would explain the noise. Caesar probably got up to use the bathroom and bumped into something. He started drifting off again when he heard the crash of shattered glass. Then voices. Plural.

He jolted awake. Nathaniel shoved out of bed with one syllable on his tongue. Dwight. Who else could it be? Caesar had probably heard him and gone to investigate. Nathaniel stooped to pull on his underwear, then rushed from the room, following the light to the kitchen. He noticed Dwight first, standing next to the counter, a bottle of vodka in one hand. On the ground was a shattered drinking glass and ice cubes. Closest to the door was Caesar, who faced Dwight and was in the middle of an explanation.

“—your brother’s boyfriend. He knows I’m here. We can wake him up.”

Dwight’s scowl only increased when Nathaniel came into the room, placing himself between them. Already his chest heaved with adrenaline. Dwight’s bloodshot eyes searched his, breath full of fumes when he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom said I could have the place for the weekend. And that nobody would be here.”

“I’m here,” Dwight said helpfully.

“I thought you were living with some girl.”

“I dumped her, you little fuck.” Dwight’s tone was bitter. “Mind your own business.”

Nathaniel eyed him. He hadn’t seen his brother since learning they weren’t related. Before he had felt handcuffed to a person who terrified him, unable to escape the bonds of family. Now that illusion had been lifted, and Nathaniel found himself apathetic. Almost. That wasn’t quite accurate because he still wanted to get away from Dwight, but now that felt like a viable option. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll keep to ourselves. Just make sure to sweep up the glass.”

Dwight didn’t budge. “I told you what would happen if you returned.”

Nathaniel sighed. “What’s the point? You hate me. Fine. Before too long, I’ll move away to college and you’ll never see me again. You made my life hell while we were growing up, and last time we saw each other, I got back at you. What’s the point in starting all of this again?”

Dwight strode forward, broken glass crunching beneath his shoes. Then he cocked back his arm and popped Nathaniel in the face. He was drunk enough that his aim was clumsy. His fist hit Nathaniel’s cheek before sliding off. The blow still hurt, but lacked the force to make his head whip back. Nathaniel winced. Then he repeated his words. “What’s the point?”

Dwight lunged again. Nathaniel wasn’t looking for a fight, but he wasn’t going to take a beating. He dodged to one side, Dwight stumbling past him like an inebriated bull. Then he turned around, because of course Dwight was coming back for more, swinging at the air, his teeth bared. Nathaniel walked backward at an angle, avoiding where the glass was, until he felt himself bump up against the kitchen counter. No choice remained. He’d either have to fight or—

Caesar leapt onto Dwight’s back, wrapping one arm around his neck and both legs around his torso. Dwight was built, but he wasn’t particularly tall. Or sober. The added weight had him teetering, arms jerking in a hopeless attempt to elbow Caesar off. Then he lost his balance completely and fell on his back, Caesar taking the impact. Nathaniel winced in sympathy, but his boyfriend rallied quickly. In fact, he seemed more in his element than ever, rolling them both onto their sides and using his free arm to add pressure to the chokehold around Dwight’s neck. Caesar kept squeezing with his legs, effectively trapping his prey. This was wrestling! The real deal! Or more like one pro and one amateur, because at the moment Dwight was nothing more than a spitting, frothing victim. Then he stopped moving completely, his body going limp.

Caesar released him, catching his breath before smiling.

“Thanks,” Nathaniel said. “Uh… Is he dead?”

“He’s fine,” Caesar said, rolling Dwight onto his back. Then he tapped him a few times, as if to rouse him. Dwight didn’t move. Caesar froze, a hand pressed against Dwight’s chest. Then he relaxed. “He’s breathing. I guess he’s not waking up because he’s drunk.”

Nathaniel stared in fascination, not used to seeing Dwight so vulnerable. They could do anything they wanted to him, make sure he was never again a threat, but those thoughts were too dark to entertain seriously. Nathaniel shook his head to clear it. “If he’s going to be all right, we should go.”

Caesar stood. “What about tomorrow?”

Nathaniel nodded to the ground. “What about him?”

“He can find somewhere else to stay,” Caesar said, approaching with a seductive expression. “I’m looking forward to—”

Whatever else he planned to say was lost in a gasp. Caesar’s eyes went wide, as did his mouth. Then he started hopping. The broken glass!

“Shit!” Nathaniel moved to help him. Then he forced himself to be cautious. Most of the mess was off to one side, but he knew how a dropped glass could scatter shards everywhere. He chose his steps carefully. When he reached Caesar, he offered support, moving them toward the kitchen door, away from the glass. And Dwight.

“Help me onto the floor,” Caesar said. Once he was sitting, he grabbed his ankle and pulled his foot close so he could examine it.

Nathaniel did the same, leaning over so he could see. Blood oozed from around something hard and transparent. “That looks bad.”

“Yeah,” Caesar agreed. “Got a first-aid kit?”

Nathaniel hurried to the master bathroom, opening the cabinet beneath the sink and shoving aside cleaning chemicals and rolls of toilet paper to find a small white box. It was nowhere near as fancy as Caesar’s, but he hoped it would be enough. He returned to the kitchen, eying Dwight to make sure he hadn’t moved before handing the kit to Caesar. “Do your stuff.”

He remained on edge, watching Caesar use a pair of plastic tweezers to remove a fat glass shard from his foot, wincing with him in sympathy. Caesar examined the wound, murmuring words that sounded unhappy. Then he wrapped his foot with gauze, the cotton turning red.

“I’m pretty sure I need stitches.”

A trip to the hospital. He knew where that would lead. “You can’t just hold it shut while I put a Band-Aid on it?”

Caesar’s expression was incredulous. “No!”

“Okay,” Nathaniel said. “Do we have time to put on clothes?”

Caesar laughed. “Yeah. I’m not showing up at the emergency room in my underwear.”

The emergency room. Fuck. Nathaniel got dressed, then brought clothes to Caesar and helped him do the same. All the while he grappled with a decision. On the drive to the hospital, he navigated wet roads distractedly and reached the only reasonable conclusion: This wasn’t a secret to be shoved to the far corner of his mind and forgotten. Flipping the switch wouldn’t help. As soon as Caesar was seated and puzzling over clipboard paperwork, Nathaniel pulled out his phone.