“Oh no, bro!" 02 (Patreon)

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Chapter 2: Big Boy

Brett had fallen asleep with his head in my lap. And when I slipped out from under him, sneaking off to bed later that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was as irritated with his antics as I was in awe of his brazenness. The weirdest part though, was my comfort in the sweet moment.

And I kept trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he was bigger than me down there. I had never wanted to think about that at all, and I don’t think it even would have occurred to me if I hadn’t walked in on him stroking it in the living room. I didn’t want it to mess with my head, but it did. It made me react differently to him, soft when I would normally be reactive. I didn’t intend to be more easygoing than normal, but he immediately picked up on it. It was like he picked up on everything lately.

The day after he had been sweet with me on the couch, when I thought maybe things would calm down, he did the opposite. The jokes started to escalate even further, especially when our parents left the house. It was like he would wait for the front door to shut then enact all his ideas of nudist bravado at once. 

As soon as the coast was clear, he dropped his pants and took off his shirt. He stood in the front entryway with his dick and balls on display, smirking at me. I just chuckled, not sure where it was going. He started doing a helicopter with his dick, and that was my line. I went to my room. 

Still, I left my door open, for some reason. 

The next day, while our parents were still home, he wandered through the hallway in a towel barely barely hanging onto his hips, walking back and forth like he had forgotten something, then dropped it completely right in front of my bedroom door. Shameless casual nudity like we were at some European nude beach. He slowly walked to the bathroom.

“Can you not be naked all the time please?” I said, stepping out into the hall. 

He didn’t even look over. “Oh no big brother, my HOLE is showing! Whatever shall I do?” 

His stupid exaggerated voice echoed down the hall, and he flicked me a sadistic grin.

Normally I’d bite back and call him a faggot, maybe throw a pillow at him for good measure. That day I just shook my head and exhaled, stepping back into my room and closing the door halfway. I felt weirdly thrown off. It was like I kept giving him ground in some escalating conflict without meaning to, and he kept taking it further. I leaned against my door and tried to get my head straight. My chest felt tight, and I started pacing a little. 

He was getting in my head. 

It wasn’t just jokes. It was mind games. I kept replaying the way he looked at me, the stupid grin, the way his confidence seemed to expand every day. I thought about how it felt when he walked past me naked. It was shock factor, taboo jokes, bizarre comfort, and a tinge of emasculating energy from our size difference. The latter was only made worse by the fact that he was younger than me. That part made my stomach twist. I didn’t want to admit how much space he was taking up in my head.

I sat on the edge of my bed one day, scrolling through reels but not really watching them, too distracted by anticipating whatever Brett was going to do next. I needed to distract myself, but it didn’t work. My head kept drifting back to the fact that he had a bigger cock. I could muscle up, win games, ace my classes, get the hottest girl, but I would never have what he had naturally. And he won, some strange game, in some weird way. It was never discussed, but it was certain. 

I hated that I even cared. I’d never compared myself to another guy before, not seriously, not like this. But I had never seen such a big one before, not in person, and the image wouldn’t leave my brain. It was worse that he was my brother. 

Even at school, every time I thought about it, I felt a stupid flush creep up my neck, and I kept adjusting how I sat, like it would help me ignore the way my body reacted just thinking about him being so casual around me. One time in the middle of class, I stood up, mostly because I couldn’t sit still. The teacher asked what I needed but I just walked out of the room.

I stood in the hall, leaning against a locker, staring at the floor until the bell rang.

That night, I was sitting alone in my room, and I decided to get some water just to have something to do. As I walked toward the kitchen, I passed his room. His door was still cracked. The light inside was dim. He had been abnormally quiet that day, and I didn’t dare disturb the peace.

I went to the kitchen, filled a glass, drank half of it, then wandered back. I kept telling myself that the whole thing between us was just hormones, or whatever, like any normal guys our age would get into these strange situations if left alone with too much time on their hands. I wasn’t the first guy that was thrown off by something their brother did around the house. It didn’t have to mean anything. I kept repeating that in my head even though it didn’t feel convincing.

I stood at my own doorway and glanced toward his room one more time. Even from across the hall I felt something in the air that made it hard to breathe. I didn’t move closer. I didn’t move away. I just stayed there, listening to the faint sounds in the house and trying not to think about how aware I was of him.

Without even planning on it, I started walking down the hall. I looked through the crack in his door, and I caught a glimpse into his room. He was on his bed, fully naked, one knee up, phone in hand, clearly stroking himself with gusto. It was even more intense than on the couch the other day. He was humping his fist and rocking his whole body. His bed was literally shaking back and forth against the carpet. I couldn’t believe it was happening again, and it couldn’t have been a coincidence. I stood frozen for a second, unsure if he was doing it because he thought he was alone or because he knew I was there. 

It stuck in my head that he looked exactly like me, just younger and skinnier, and his pole was so much longer than mine, and thicker. I felt like I was watching a mirror of myself in a dream. I froze in the doorway, almost rooted to the spot. Something about seeing him like that again hit me hard. His leg shifted and the mattress creaked under him. His body moved with a focused rhythm. I got a nerves boner, seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see.

My heart thumped against my ribs. I told myself to leave, to respect his privacy, to stop acting weird. But I just stood there. I could see the tension in his stomach, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His hair stuck to his forehead a little, and he kept adjusting his fist like he was trying to find the best grip on himself.

It didn’t look like a prank. It didn’t look like he was messing with me. It looked like something he had done a hundred times alone, except now the door wasn’t shut. That part messed me up the most.

He shifted again, and the angle changed just enough that I saw a bit more of him. His leg was propped up and his cheeks were spread apart. I had seen his hole on accident a hundred times, but now it was twitching in pleasure. My breath stopped. I felt my whole face warm up. I kept whispering in my head that I should walk away, but I didn’t move an inch. Something about watching him made my throat dry. It wasn’t even the physical stuff, not really. It was seeing him so unguarded. It was seeing so much of him.

I felt myself reacting, and that was the part that scared me. I adjusted my shorts and stepped back slightly so the hall light didn’t fall on me. I didn’t want him to see me there, but at the same time I couldn’t shake the idea that he might already know.

His body jerked again, like he was getting close.

I watched until he grunted roughly and looked down at himself, releasing a series of heavy squirts onto his abdomen. I finally departed before he looked up and saw me. My hands were shaking as I walked down the hall toward the bathroom. I turned the faucet on just to have a noise to focus on.

I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to calm down. I splashed cool water on my face. My heartbeat was still racing, and I couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or confusion or shame about my raging boner that I didn’t want to admit I even had.

As I dried my face, I kept replaying what I had seen. The curve of his stomach. The tension in his jaw. The layer of sweat shining on his forehead, chest, stomach and legs. The way he braced his foot into the mattress, his toes curling. I shouldn’t have remembered those details, but I did, too clearly.

When I heard movement in the hallway again, I straightened up, acting like I was just getting ready for bed. I didn’t want him to think anything was different.

Later, in the living room, he came out, hair messy, still in just underwear, he didn’t mention anything, but I had this sense that he knew I had watched. He had left his door ajar on purpose. 

He just sat next to me on the couch and nudged me with his knee.

“What’s up,” he said.

“Nothing,” I muttered, but it came out sharper than I expected. I could tell he noticed.

He stretched, his arm brushing against me. “Just checking if you’re still paying attention, big bro.”

“I can’t help but pay attention to you lately,” I said, trying to make a point without saying it.

—[]—

The next day, we were off school again. Parents were at work, and Brett’s jokes got more… subtle. He kept dropping little jokes about my reaction to him. He would walk past me to grab something from the kitchen and let his hand brush my lower back, just lightly enough to have plausible deniability.

At one point he came into my room without knocking. He pretended he needed a charger, but he didn’t even grab one. He just looked around, then sat on my bed. His thigh pressed against mine.

“Why are you in my room?” I asked.

He shrugged like it was obvious. “You weren’t coming to me, so I figured I’d come to you.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t push him away.

He leaned back on his hands and stretched so his shirt lifted a little. He knew exactly what he was doing. His eyes cut toward me and he smirked.

“You keep looking at me,” he said.

“I’m literally not,” I said, even though my face heated up.

He stood and stepped close enough that our shoulders touched. “Whatever you say, big bro.”

I swallowed hard and didn’t move. I felt locked in place.

When he finally left, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

It was like an unspoken, one-sided tease-fest, a mindfuck that I had no escape from.

—[]—

That night, the house was quiet again. I went to bed confused and tired, wanting space but thinking about him anyway. I had just settled under my blanket when I heard his door open. Soft steps crossed the hall. Then my mattress dipped behind me.

He slid into my bed silently, no indication that he was making a joke or anything like that. It was like the couch again, but… different.

“Move over,” he said quietly.

I didn’t tell him to leave. I didn’t even question it. I just rolled to my side, wordlessly, and faced away from him toward the wall. He settled against me with a calmness that didn’t match his normal chaos. His arm wrapped around my chest. He brushed against my muscles, like he was seeing how much bigger I was than him. He gently squeezed my pec, my arms. Then his hand settled close to my neck. I grabbed it and held it against myself, holding him there. 

After a moment, his whole body scooted up to me. As we fell asleep, it was like he was naturally lining up to me without thinking. His chest met my back, his knees met my legs, and his large bulge met my ass.