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The Sun to your Moon #12


John adjusted his fingers.

Only a little.

Scott had said to grip onto his shoulders, but John had his hands positioned nearer his neck.

He tested the firmness of his trapezius muscles and swallowed.

They were hot and hard beneath his fingertips. The pool water slapped against John’s skin, bringing a chill, but with Scott’s body so close it soon vanished with his warmth.

A new heat swept through John, one only Scott could get out of him. It rushed south, brushing by his lower stomach.

John’s breath quickened.

His cock grew stiff and hard, and so sensitive the water shifting his shorts was enough to shoot pleasant tingles down to his toes.

Scott hadn’t noticed.

He never did.

His focus stayed on John’s face, trying his best to understand the panicked breathing and the locking of all John’s joints. He thought John was afraid, and in some ways, he was.

An element of fear made his heart thump, but it came from the fear of discovery.

Scott hadn’t noticed that every time they had prolonged contact, it excited John’s body into responding. As soon as he felt the first prickling of heat, he pushed Scott away, extracted himself from the situation and locked himself in the bathroom.

But in the pool…

John had stayed against Scott longer than he should have. It had been a combination of things that had kept John from running despite the warning tingles.

His hands were on Scott’s skin, his naked, wet skin.

John’s feet were dangling helplessly in the water, and Scott had his hand on John’s lower back, thumb teasing the edge of his waistband.

He was pinned, and helpless, holding onto Scott.

John was hard, and one shift or brush of movement would have put his hard cock against Scott’s body, and then he would’ve known.

The last year would’ve suddenly clicked in Scott’s head and John’s dirty secret would’ve been discovered.

He found his brother so arousing he couldn’t think straight.

It overwhelmed him into a panic.

The water lapped against his chest, making him gasp.

Scott’s skin drew his mouth like a magnet, and he panted against it, wishing he could taste but knowing he shouldn’t.

The sight of goosebumps spreading, closing in on one of Scott’s dark nipples and tightening it up was too much.

He shoved Scott squarely in the chest, putting distance between them, but firm fingers took hold of John’s wrist.

Scott pulled him further into the water, away from the escape, and John had no choice but to grab onto him again.

Grab onto him or drown.

“It’s okay,” Scott murmured, curling his hand around John’s back. He coiled it, bringing John closer to his chest, making the moment inevitable.

John hid in the crook of Scott’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be…I’m hard too.”

John shivered at Scott’s cock against his cool stomach, prodding at the softer flesh. He didn’t have the wall of muscle like Scott. He was smaller and shorter, and weaker.

“Touch me.”

John shook his head.

His heart thundered in his chest, and the fear of being discovered didn’t wane, it transformed. If he touched Scott, he would come, and Scott wouldn’t.

John had no idea how to please him. He wasn’t Janice who Scott loved fucking.

He wasn’t one of the porn performers in the videos that Scott jerked off to.

He wasn’t one of the models he’d tacked to his bedroom wall.

John was John.

Utterly overwhelmed with arousal and clueless about what to do about it. He couldn’t hug Scott without getting hard. If he got to touch his cock, he’d cum all over himself and pass out from the intensity.

“Too much?” Scott asked.

John nodded against him. He put his lips to Scott’s skin but didn’t dare taste him. The heat of it alone left him dizzy.

“That’s okay,” Scott told him in his comforting tone.

The tone that caused all the problems.

When Scott spoke to him like that and shot John a soft smile, he wanted to hug and mould his slighter body against Scott's big one, but Scott’s arms, the heat, the smell, even his laugh brushing against John’s ear changed comfort into lust.

It didn’t matter where they were or who else was present.

John got aroused.

“Let me,” Scott whispered.

John frowned into his neck before shivering at the hand against his lower back. It slipped beneath the waistbands of his shorts, exposing John.

Scott’s long fingers reached between John’s cheeks and parted them for the pool water to hit home.

He jolted into Scott’s chest, splashing the water around them. “Scott…”

“Rub up against me.”

John wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist and rolled his hips forward. He moaned as he kept rolling them, brushing his oversensitive cock against Scott’s body, chasing his release.

Scott pressed his fingers against John’s hole, gently at first, before matching John’s thrusts.

He didn’t care that Scott’s mum was watching from the kitchen. He didn’t care if the whole damn world was watching.

In fact, he wished it was.

He wished everyone could see Scott’s fingers pushing him closer to orgasm, his frantic fucking of his brother’s abdomen and Scott encouraging him to keep going.

He bit into Scott’s neck as his cock dirtied the pool water.


John released his teeth, panting hard.

He blinked blearily at his pillow and watched as the memory foam fluffed out his teeth marks.

Another dream.

He found the sweat unpleasant, sticking the sheet to his bare back. He would've slept naked with how hot the house stayed at night, but he was forced to wear sweatpants to combat the dreams.

John flung the sheet away, rolled onto his back, and narrowed his eyes at his crotch. He lifted the waistband, screwing his face up at the mess he'd made inside.

Scott, two hundred miles away, had made John come all over himself in his sleep, and not for the first time. The wet dreams had been happening for almost a year, not every night, but enough John made a habit of waking up early to wash his clothes and sheets.

Sally had caught him in the act, but her face contorted with pity, and John knew she’d misunderstood and thought it was a bedwetting situation.

She’d left a waterproof cover beneath his pillow for him to use, and he’d been too embarrassed to thank her or decline. It covered the mattress but didn’t save his clothes from his overactive imagination.

Scott fingering him in the pool and letting John use his body as a jerking post had dirtied the bed five times in total, and the orgasm in his brain hit him harder than he could do with his hand. The buzz swiftly left after he woke, and frustration took its place.

In his dream, Scott had asked for John’s touch, and he’d shook his head, too afraid he’d fuck it up and leave him unsatisfied. Janice had satisfied him, and when that ended, Scott had sought relief from videos online, of confident, dominating women who demanded to suck and bounce on the male performer's cock. That’s what Scott liked. Someone who knew what they were doing and desired a cock filling them more than their own life.

John fulfilled the second part of the brief, but the first….

He sighed, swinging his legs out of bed.

Scott had been gone for three months, but the dreams stayed just as intense. He was two hundred miles away, partying through his first year of university. There had been girls. Lots of girls, and from the photos and videos John had seen, he’d proved himself to be popular wherever he went.

Jealousy ran rife in John, but not of Scott, but of all the women who'd got to make him come. All the women who he’d kissed, touched and pushed inside of in his mad chase for relief.

John envied them.

The fact Scott didn’t seem to have any attraction toward men, wasn’t even the biggest problem.

Scott saw John as his brother.

He introduced him to friends as his brother and even bought him a birthday card for his brother. John knew Scott thought it was a nice gesture, a sign to show he’d accepted John as part of his family and loved him like his siblings, but it struck like a slap to the face.

Scott would never see John the way John saw him.

It didn’t compute.

And if it did, even for a second, John would have no clue how to leap on the moment and use it to his advantage.

John hauled himself up, changed in the bathroom then headed downstairs with his dirtied sweatpants in his arms. He threw them into the washing machine, along with a load of other clothes, and set it to a quick wash.

He stiffened, sensing eyes on him across the room. Sally tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

She glanced at the washing machine, filling up with water. “If you haven’t already…I think it’s something you should mention to Katie.”

There was no way he was telling Katie he lusted over his brother. That he was utterly obsessed with him to an unhealthy degree, a disturbing one. He’d rather lie and declare he was wetting the bed.

“Okay.” He whispered.

Sally’s shoulders slumped, and she smiled at John. “The boys are asking for eggy soldiers…want some?”

“Cereal is fine for me. Thanks.”

John followed her out of the utility room and into the kitchen. Alex and Albie were both sitting at their table, complete with a magnetic top so they could play with the letters and shapes. John’s heart pinched in his chest when Alex glanced at him, and he quickly turned his head and sat down at the breakfast bar.

“I wonder what time Felicity will get up today?”

John glanced at the clock. Felicity took after Scott and loved a lie-in on Saturdays.

“I keep having to push her violin practice back.”

The teacher would arrive at nine, teach John for an hour, and by ten Felicity would’ve dragged herself from the comfort of her bed and managed a shower. John sat in while she practised, zoning out as she made the strings sing in a way, he’d yet to have mastered.

“Do you enjoy it?”

John looked at Sally. “Enjoy what?”

“Learning the violin.”

“Yes…” he swallowed, “Thank you for paying for my lessons.”

“John, you’re part of this family. You don’t have to thank us. I’m glad you’ve found something you like. Scott hated music. It was all about football for him.”

He’d taught John as soon as he’d recovered enough to run.

They practised in the garden with a reluctant Felicity in the goal.

Scott’s hands would always find their way to John’s hips and reposition his body for the best angle. For the first year, it hadn’t been an issue. He liked Scott’s hands on his body, the only ones he could tolerate on his skin, but as soon as his hormones kicked in, it made playing football impossible.

One time, Scott had brought John down with a sliding tackle, and he’d ended up straddling a sweaty, panting Scott. The sensation of Scott’s body moving beneath him as he heaved for breath, it had almost been too much.

John had run into the house to calm down then listened to Scott as he apologised on the other side of the bathroom door for hurting him.

“He chose business studies,” John said aloud, not expecting a response.

“More job opportunities.”

John doubted Scott had been thinking about job opportunities when he chose the course. His dad had been in his ear about a proper future and how nothing in life came easily. Scott had struggled through his A-levels, finishing with C’s and picked a subject he hated.

It could only be because of his dad.

“Have you thought about what you want to do after you’re A-levels?”

He shrugged. “Get a job, my own place.”

Sally winced and moved away to give Alex and Albie their toast, smothered in jam.

“I didn’t mean that to sound ungrateful,” John said, turning on the stool to keep her in his sights. “It’s

just…I don’t feel like I contribute to the family.”

“Contribute? You’re not supposed to contribute. That’s not how families work. I don’t want you to feel you have to move out, there’s plenty of room.”

A shout from the hallway snapped John’s jaw shut. It had been happening more and more. Scott’s dad hollering at someone either in person or down the phone. He started loud but ended the conversation in a hushed whisper moving through the rooms to get to his office.

The door slammed.

John met Sally’s gaze.

“Nothing for you to worry about.”

She picked up a sponge and began scrubbing the spotless countertop. They had a cleaner, but Sally still went around afterwards, scrubbing, dusting, and sweeping.

“Why don’t you fire her?” John asked.

“Fire who?”

“The cleaner.”

Scott’s mum hesitated. She lifted her head away from the counter where she’d been studying it in microscopic detail. “Kerry helps me around the house.”

“But the job gets done twice?”

“I’m very particular. It’s not her fault.” Sally laughed and continued scrubbing. “David hired her.”

John was at least thankful she wasn’t referring to him as dad.

He would always be David to John.

Scott’s father.

The head of the house.

“He hired Kerry so I’d have more time to do the things I wanted. It’s his way of showing he cares, giving me more freedom.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

John reached for the box of cereal.

Before Alex, it had been him and his mum and it had been anything but a family environment, but something about the Scott’s family seemed off too.

They projected themselves as a close-knit group in the press, but John barely saw David and there was a sadness in Sally that had grown deeper after Scott left.

The office door flew open, smashing into a wall. John winced at the breaking glass and curled towards his bowl.

"It's only a picture falling off the wall."

There was humour in Sally’s voice, at odds with the situation. John forced himself to eat his breakfast, feeling the loss of Scott to soothe his frazzled nerves.

David was shouting down the phone again.

He marched past the door, not sparing them a glance.

"I better go clear that up."

Sally left with the dustpan and closed the door leaving John alone with Alex and Albie. He tried to block out the sound of whining but gave up and twisted around to find them slapping jam on each other’s faces. He sighed and went to get a cloth, cleaning them both without making eye contact or engaging in any conversation.

Alex grabbed his finger. "Jam sticky."

John nodded and extracted himself.

Alex and Albie were nearly the same age, but Alex was far behind on his development milestones.

John blamed himself, and his inability to take care of Alex properly in his first year. Every time he heard Albie speak a sentence followed by Alex’s attempt, part of John shrivelled up in shame.

He’d barely spoken to Alex for the first year.

He'd hardly looked at him either.

John had unintentionally harmed his brother with his callous attitude and he despised himself for it.

He retreated, slinging the cloth back in the sink.

"All done," Sally announced, showing John the dustpan full of glass. "The hook has looked loose for ages."

John didn't comment.

"You better get showered and ready for your lesson."

He nodded, leaping on the chance to escape the room. Alex called after him, but he struggled with Js unlike Albie, and he pretended he hadn’t heard.


The more you practised, the better you got.

John knew he’d improved on the violin, he’d started liking the music he made from it, nowhere near Felicity’s standard, but good enough for his ears to handle.

Simon fiddled with his moustache while nodding his approval. John knew he'd nailed the piece and puffed up with something close to pride.

Felicity stumbled into the room halfway through his lesson, yawning into the back of her hand and still wearing her dressing gown. She gave John a thumbs up and curled up in the armchair in the corner to listen.

When he didn’t start back up, she looked over and smiled at him similar to the way Scott did.

“You were good,” she said. “That’s why I came in. If you weren’t I would’ve avoided the room.”

John smirked. She and Scott were alike, but both denied it with a passion.

He began to play, but a glimmer to the window slipped the bow from his hand. He crouched down to grab it, only to wince at David’s yell from outside the hall.

He barged into the room. “Shut the blinds.”

Felicity sat upright. “Why?”

“I said to shut them!”

She did, but not before John had seen the cars parked outside the gate, and the flash of a camera.

“You,” David stabbed his finger in Simon’s face. “Need to leave.”

He didn’t wait for Simon to collect his books but ushered him out with a sweep of his hand.

“What’s happened?” Felicity asked.

John retreated to stand beside her, throttling the neck of the violin.

David's face glowed red with rage. “There’s been an…allegation.”


“It’s a lie,” David snapped. “Some jealous nobody desperate to make some money, but she’s gone to the press, and despite my best efforts, it’s been published. She's claiming I've been having an affair. It’s absolute ridiculous and everyone working at the Darlington Times should be fired."

Felicity stood up. "An affair?"

"It's rubbish. I've never seen her before in my life."

He opened his arms out, and Felicity stumbled into them for a hug.

"I'm going to sort it," he said. "Everything will be alright. I promise."

John avoided David’s gaze and put the violin away.

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