Chapter 11
Eleven
Nicolas
He doesn't drive directly home. At first I think he's taking the long way and then he starts driving toward the hospital.
Parking in front of the building's main entrance, he sits there for at least another hour and never goes inside.
The door opens for a second before closing and he backs out of the parking space, driving in circles before finally heading back to the house.
I went too far earlier. I said I wanted to slowly reveal who I was but there is nothing slow about the pace I moved at.
It was hard to resist. He was right there, pants hanging low on his hips, the material giving enough for my hand to slide easily into.
I lost control once our skin touched and kept touching him.
He felt so damn good too. Tastes even better.
As soon as I left, I licked at my fingers, humming around them, and as soon as I got inside my house, I took out my cock, shoving my hand deeper in my mouth, spreading his saltiness around as I came with my body spasming.
I walked back outside, spreading my seed all over his handle, growing hard all over again as I watched his fingers come in contact with such a filthy part of me.
Adjusting myself in my pants, I turn a different direction than him as he drives onto our street and I tend to those errands I told him I was going to run.
My brother had asked me to pick up a bottle of wine earlier so I head to the liquor store, tossing four bottles in my basket in between watching where my little Bo goes.
I can't go long without knowing his location.
After getting back home, his car doesn't move for a long time and by the time I arrive at my brother's, my little bo is on the road again.
He's going back to the hospital, staying parked in front and I doubt he's getting out.
I wish I could see more than his car on the screen.
I'll have to remember to hide a camera somewhere in his car.
I bet he'd like it too. I could message him randomly throughout the day, telling him when he has an eyelash on his cheek or his hair is sticking up.
I can give my opinion on his clothing again, telling him to wear a jacket whenever he leaves the house during a chilly night.
Stepping out of my car, I slide my phone into my front pocket and grab the bag from the back seat.
Holding the alcohol in one hand, my hand taps at my side as I resist the urge to look at my phone again.
It's not like he goes to many places. He seems too nervous to explore too much at once, taking his time and only mostly going where I tell him to.
My brother answers the door on the second knock, eyes roaming over the bag, before meeting mine. “That looks like more than one bottle,” he huffs under his breath, stepping to the side to let me in.
His house looks more lived in than mine.
Probably because it is. Plants rest on the window seal of his kitchen and he has stacks of bills on his table.
His salt and pepper shakers are shaped like woodland creatures.
The curtains hanging in the windows above the sink match the teal paint on the wall.
He's always been a fan of more color than me, that's for sure but more shy and a hermit.
He's made his home his own little personal sanctuary with all his favorite things. Mine are mostly found where I least expect them to be. Like next door for example. Only one message away.
“There was a sale,” I deadpan and he shakes his head, chuckling.
“I get it. I'm not much for conversation so you need to drink whenever I have you over in order to make things less awkward.”
“Nah. I just thought I could save me a few trips to the store for when we have our next family dinners.”
“Mhm.” Rolling his eyes, he takes the bag from me and sets it on one of the counters.
“So what's on the menu? Not more of that cauliflower casserole I hope.”
“No,” he sneers. “Chicken fajitas and beans with a side of cream corn.”
“Oh, pulling out the extra sides for me this time. What's the occasion?”
“That's it. We're eating at your place from here on out. Then I can give you shit for what you cook.”
“Sounds like a plan. Not sure you'll be able to handle my food though. I actually like adding seasoning.”
“You mean so much spice, I feel like I'm breathing fire for a week.”
I huff out a laugh, taking down some plates. “Yeah, yeah. That's just good cooking. Sometimes I feel like we were raised in two different households.”
“Sometimes I wish we were.” He side eyes me, digging out the silverware I can tell he rarely ever uses by how new it looks.
My brother is more of an eat out of a container or from the pan kind of guy with plastic wear.
He's so busy, he doesn't have time for a sink full of dishes but he always squeezes in enough for home cooked meals.
We both make our way to the table and I help him finish setting it up while he sets the food in the center.
I grab the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and fill our cups.
We loud our own plates and eat in silence.
He was right about me feeling awkward. We're related but feel like strangers most days.
Sure we know the mundane shit, like what we do for a living and that we both prefer to live alone but that's the extent of it.
I can't tell you what his favorite movie is or if he even watches them since he has no TV out in the living room.
I've never seen any of the other rooms in his house aside from what's visible from the kitchen and the guest bathroom.
I think he has a backyard and there's a stray cat who sometimes scratches at the front door when I'm here.
He says it's not his but when he thinks my car is out of sight, I spot him pouring food into a bowl.
He has a thing for taking care of helpless things in a much different way than me.
My mind goes back to my little Bo. It never stays too far away. He really did look good in that pink off the shoulder shirt. Then again he looks good in everything but better with nothing at all.
Clearing his throat across the table, my brother fills his glass with wine first and I take a swig straight from the bottle, earning me a disapproving glance.
“Have any big plans tonight?”
“Not really,” I say flatly, trying hard not to give away the excitement running through me about my little video date with Bo later. Or will it be more than that?
“I see.” He arches a brow. “No working late or traveling for a client?”
“Not today. Taking it easy this week.”
“I heard you have a new neighbor.”
I choke on my next breath. “Did you?”
“Yeah. The delivery guy told me someone new has been answering the door.”
“Ah yeah. The little red head,” I say without missing a beat.
“Have you met him yet? Is he living there permanently?”
“Briefly. On more than one occasion.” I dab my mouth with a napkin. “He has issues keeping his animals in his yard and I'm not sure how long he's there for but sounds like he may only be there watching the place for his sick brother.”
“Oh. Not too many newcomers move out here so it's always news when someone does. Hopefully you're not being too unwelcoming,” he says smugly and I grunt.
“Of course not. I went right over there on the first day he moved in with a basket of muffins.”
He sputters a laugh, tossing his napkin forward. “The only way I'd believe that is if you poisoned them.”
“Nah, I only poison neighbors when I'm getting paid to do so. I don't do freebies.”
“Well this has been a fun dinner conversation.”
A laugh spills from my lips and I finish off my glass of wine. “Yes and I can't wait to do it all again next week.”
We finish eating and he offers me some cookie cake for dessert.
Taking it out on the patio, we sit outside, drinking more wine with comfortable silence stretching between us.
There's less pressure to talk when the sound of nature surrounds us, chirping and fluttering.
After a second helping of cookie cake, I tap my brother on the shoulder goodbye.
We don't do the whole hugging thing. It was something that never happened in our home growing up so it doesn't feel natural to do it now.
Only one person has made me want to wrap my arms around him and he's waiting for me to watch him.
My brother waves me off from the porch and I take my time driving back home, trying not to look at my phone.
I don't need to when I finally arrive back at my house because I can see his car perfectly from where I'm sitting.
Right in his driveway with no one inside.
His front door opens and he has a basket in his hand.
It swings at his side as he moves his lips.
Him adding dancing into his steps confirms he's singing.
Stopping in front of one of the peach trees, he rubs at his forehead and then looks down at the ground.
Bending his knees, he picks up one peach at a time, observing each one carefully before placing it in the basket.
He stands back up and picks some fruit off the tree branches, jumping up when he can't reach anymore.
Using a stick, he hits and misses his target, falling back on his ass.
Looking around, he slowly gets up, dusting off his pants.
Scoping out his surroundings again, he disappears behind the house and returns minutes later with a ladder.
It drags behind him, jumping up and down on his shoulder with each step he takes.
The top of the ladder crashes with the tree and he steadies himself on the ground to keep from falling again. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and walk his way. He does everything the hard way, doesn't he, even making something easy more complicated than it would be for anyone else.
“Need some help?” I shout.