“It’s not the same,” he says quietly. “I guess I’m not much of a voyeur.”
My pulse stutters. That was always my role, but I stay quiet, unwilling to confess this to him here. He seems to hear my thoughts anyway, because he turns, fully facing me.
He meets my eyes through the mask, his eyes rimmed with kohl to enhance the dark effect of the disguise. “I think I liked being the one watched.”
The words hit me in my balls before I can rationalize that he doesn’t mean me specifically. He means that he likes to be the subject. My mouth gets away with me, and I don’t think before I answer.
“So let them watch,” I say, my voice husky, sounding like I’ve swallowed gravel.
Ari’s breath catches, and his pink lips part. His eyes lock on mine, as if seeking clarification. Or permission.
“Show us what we’ll never get to touch,” I whisper.
The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming heavy. The air between us is thick and electric, humming with all the possibilities I just unleashed. All the torment I’ll lay at my own feet just to get one glimpse of his pleasure.
Can I handle this?
I don’t know. Maybe not.
Probably not.
But I’ll swallow my own tongue and chain myself to the floor if I have to. I’m pretty sure there’s a room for that around here somewhere, actually.
Maybe this is the middle ground I can live with. Or maybe I’ll regret this later. But I don’t take my eyes off Ari as I take several steps back and sink down to a tufted bench against the wall.
Ari swallows, and I track the movement with my eyes before they fall slowly down his body to where his hand slowly massages his bulge through his pants. He takes a couple steps back before he hits a matching bench across from mine.
Taking his eyes off me momentarily, he looks around the room, taking stock of the people around us. There’s a couple rutting against the wall to his left. A woman wearing nothing but a choker with her entry key hanging off it is getting her ass eaten on a fur rug in the middle of the room. And there are severalpeople, mostly men, in various stages of undress, stroking themselves or getting their cocks sucked. One man, leaning on the wall not three feet from where I’m sitting, is getting sucked off so enthusiastically, the guy on his knees is slurping and gagging loud enough that it almost takes my mind back to the first time I ruined one of these parties for Ari.
The moment I lock my eyes back on him, I forget everything else. My mind is blank except for the vision in front of me, as Ari opens his pants and lets them drop around his ankles. He lifts the bottom hem of his shirt to show off the thin, satiny black straps of a pair of underwear so small they barely hold him in. Ari does a slow turn, tying the shirt behind his back to keep it out of the way, showing off the open back of the strappy jock that perfectly frames the smooth, pale globes of his round, pert ass.
Seeing him this way sends goosebumps down my thighs and ass and over my balls.
When he’s facing me again, he sits at the edge of the bench and leans back against the wall, stretching out his lithe body as he runs a hand down his chest and abs. He squeezes his erection through the straining material. My mouth waters for him to take it out. I think I might mouth the words.
Ari’s eyes flick down to my crotch and back up, a wicked gleam sparkling in his eyes.
With two hands hooked in the straps of his waistband, Ari pulls his underwear down to just under his balls, letting his cock spring up and hit his abs. He pushes them down past his knees to his ankles and then spreads his legs as much as he can.
I can see everything. Or, enough of everything to make it so I’ll never need to watch another porn ever again. There are too many shadows to make out all the detail that I’d like, but maybe that’s a good thing. If I were any closer, I’d be hard-pressed not to reach out and touch. Lick. Suck.Taste.
Oh hell, what would he taste like?
Do I have any idea what I’m thinking? No. Have I done any of that stuff with a man before? No. Have I ever had another man do any of that to me before? Another no.
But I’ve always known there was something very non-straight about the way I looked at Ari. It’s honestly not even on the list of reasons I shouldn’t be doing this.
Most importantly: he’s my brother.
Foster brother, yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that we grew up together. Or that I love him like a brother, even if there is more to it. Or that I’ve always felt a responsibility towards him. Or that the whole world sees us as brothers and would never understand.
None of that stops me from watching with rapt attention as Ari fondles his balls and slowly strokes up his shaft. His cock is long and thin, uncut with a fat mushroom head. He’s hairless and so smooth, and it makes me want to rub my cheek along the insides of his thighs and nuzzle against the base of his dick just to see if it’s as soft as it looks. I can’t decide if perfect smoothness or the slightest bite of stubble would be hotter.
Ari swipes his index finger across the head of his cock, over the weeping slit, and brings it to his mouth. He licks the bead of precum, and I want to chase it into his mouth with my tongue, which dips out to lick my lips as if in anticipation.
His lips curve up, pleased with the show he’s putting on.
I’ve kissed those lips. Gently. Carefully. I’ve touched that body. Tentatively. Fearfully.
