u/Rexarqana

Everyone's 18+

It WONT be weird, trust me Harrison :)

Of course she would text that. Strike 1: she was “too busy” to pick me up from school. Though, considering I was serving a detention for doing Senior Ditch Day, that was probably for the best. Still, strike 2: there was ONE car in the driveway for this supposed “party”. Strike 3: the pajama robe and sweats he was already in when I actually knocked on the door like an idiot.

Goddammit mom.

“Surprise,” I said, holding the cupcakes I’d bought at Food Lion out to him. “Welcome back,” I cleared my throat, “uh, Dad.”

An eyebrow went up, but he cracked a smile all the same. “Was only your Da’ for five years, bairn.“

“Six,” I said, matching his expression. “But who’s counting?”

Smiling not just a crack anymore, he accepted the desserts and, to my surprise, held an arm out. I leaned in with both arms. He had seemed so much larger than life all those years ago and while I had half a head of height over him now, he was big and burly enough to still at least feel like it.

I stepped back from him and gave him a nod before beginning to turn. Was gonna be a looong walk back to school and then home. “Well hold on now,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Don’tcha want to say fàilte to Angus, too?”

“A-Angus came back with you?” I nearly choked.

“’Course he did! Soon as the wean found out he could finish Secondary—er, ah, ‘High’ School here he damn-near booked the tickets himself!”

“That’s… surprising.” I was able to force the grin back onto my face. “Ah, I’m sure he’s KO’d.”

He shook his head and cast an unimpressed look behind him, toward the ceiling. “Ya still know him so well. But come on! This whole thing has your Ma written all over it and long as I got you here, she can’t duck her handiwork for long, eh?” He gave me a light elbow to the rib, and truthfully, I didn’t need the added incentive of making it so I wasn’t the only one having to lie in this bed she made.

With a shrug of my shoulder and an “Atta boy!” from him, I stepped in. The place was exactly as we all had left it, a one story with a living room of a recliner he immediately settled into, one hand popping open the cupcakes and the other pulling out a phone to check in with mom.

The narrow hallway leading past the kitchen to their old room was the same. So were the scratches on the bathroom doorframe where I’d outpaced Angus pretty quickly in height. That one hole or, um, three in the walls where I’d (totally accidentally!) wrestled him a little too hard. The… the closet I made him spend stints in when his dad and my mom – I mean, our parents – weren’t home. That I’d sit against the door of so he could hear me use up all his lives in that dumb Switch game he liked, oh god. But he’d never be in there for more than five, ten minutes tops!

My walk toward the attic became a shuffle, and I paused under the pull chain. Even when he was finally tall enough to be able to jump for it like I had to, he’d always wait for me to grab it. Now that it was within easy reach, it seemed so much further away.

The chain felt sturdier. Had they replaced it? It still took a weird little yank to bring the door open, but soon the rickety stepladder was descending, paint chipped in all the same places.

It wasn’t the darkness I poked my head into that was most confusing. Or the sound of this song I hadn’t heard in forEVER that I really used to like playing softly. No, it was the deep, grumbling snores that took me aback. For a second I wanted to climb down, ask who in the world was in our old bedroom, but I kept moving, hauling onto the carpet surrounding the door.

There was someone in the twin bed we used to share. Except far from being the tight fit I remember, his thick, heavy arms overflowed it, as did his wide, heavier legs. Even larger than life, he carried the weight in his chest and belly the same way I recognized in Dad downstairs.

“Angus?” I asked.

His only response was the two-tone snort I was far too familiar with and him turning his other cheek on the pillow, letting me see the fullness of trim beard he sported. Jesus Christ, he had to have a hundred or more pounds on me now, easily half a foot of height as well. I had to step around his leg hanging off the bed. And there was something else, the scent of linens and chocolate from downstairs was long gone, smothered utterlly by something masculine, pheromonal. Which I got a better whiff of when he shifted his legs. Angus had never smelled manly like that before.

How had we ever fit in here? I moved the dozen paces to the desk, where the only thing he’d unpacked so far was his cell that was, geez, three hours into my song. I slit the blinds, letting in more of the dying afternoon light. He was wearing an A-shirt that made all his brand new chest hair and big nipples impossible to miss. His shirt had ridden up so his outie bellybutton stood out on the large arc of his bare gut. Beneath the thin sheet he was using as a blanket, that his legs poked out from the knees down under, was something else.

An arc.

Downstairs, I was aware of the lively conversation being had over the phone, and I moved toward it, intending fully to let myself down, close the door behind me, and give Angus the space he obviously needed. But as I knelt before the ladder, I stopped. To my side, there it was. That curve of his at crotch height. Except as his breaths became evener, his sleep deeper, it straightened out, forming a sloped pyramid under the blanket rubbing at his belly.

Just like I remembered, if you wiggled it halfway through, the door to the attic didn’t make a single sound when you shut it. Even though the conversation was just a floor away, the noise faded as I stood back up, replaced by blood rushing through my ears.

Though the snores being baritone was completely different, the dampness of his pillow at mouth level tugged the corner of my mouth into a smile. Thank god I didn’t have to share it anymore. But he was certainly down for the count. The complete opposite of… the other thing. His thing.

I’ve been around guys before, duh. But I’ve never, like, stared at them. Smelled their day’s sweat on them. Ogled them or anything. But I drank in the lightly heady, salty scent he was giving off. Ran my line of sight from his face to his neck to his hairy chest, midsection, and his crotch way more times than I ever thought I’d be interested in doing with a guy. And this was Angus!

Fifty perfect reasons not to crouch beside the bed that was currently groaning under his weight blazed through my mind. Another fifty to not slide the blanket down. Only so gently, not enough to disturb the rhythm of his huge inhales and easy exhales.

I shouldn’t be doing this. For so, SO many reasons I shouldn’t be doing this. But the material eventually gave way. My nostrils flared before the sight had really hit me – that musk of his inviting itself to take over my sense of smell. Then I was taking in the way his boxer briefs fought to contain his thighs and his massive ass.

But rising above them all was the pulsing twitch straining against his fly. Sure he was some weeks older than me, but there was no way he was bigger than me HERE of all places. I could just… but christ, I REALLY shouldn’t…

Eyes darting to the yawning maw of his a few feet away, I raised my fingertips to his waistband. He radiated heat, and as I curled my fingers to get a grip, they slipped against his skin. Lifting it up, the meatiness beneath rose as well. Thick, wild pubes gave off his overwhelming scent, and then Angus’s freed cock twitched openly.

A hood of skin formed a spout above a blunt head, which was squeezed tight enough that the rim separating dome from shaft contoured firmly against it. A powerful blue vein snaked down to balls that, while hidden underneath his underwear, still made mounds between his thighs big enough to almost fill up a palm. Guessing off visuals alone, cuz no freaking way was I chancing actually touching his hard-on,  I might’ve barely been able to close a hand around it (dammit). And hovering it close, he was about the size of the bottom of my hand to the tip of my pinkie (DAMMIT).

I sat back on my hands and sighed. That’s exactly what I get for being so weird in the first place. And, as I looked down, to the growing racing of my heart, in a second place as well. Still breathing in Angus’s scent, I went for the waistband of his underwear again so I could pretend this never happened, but stopped.

There was a wet spot on them, damp enough to have seeped through both layers of fly. I’d been quieter than a mouse, and it would be just my luck if he’d become the heaviest-set lightest sleeper ever. But no, it wasn’t that. But as I watched, the pulsing and twitching of his cock became more frequent. It thickened of its own accord. The serene expression on his face broke with a frown here. A knit eyebrow there. There was no way… was there? 

His teeth nearly touched in a bracing sort of way, and his face contorted in unconscious confusion, but his chest rose and fell in the same drowsy tempo. But his cock still swelled, stretching the skin covering its head as it did, so that the top third let itself out. A bead of wetness grew at his tip, getting plumper and plumper in time with his breaths getting puffier and his cock’s twitches becoming jumps.

A sleepy, hitched breath. “H-Harris…” he mumbled, rough and lightly accented.

My stomach did a flip, and I drew back. But his eyes were still closed, the side of his mouth still drooly, his posture still relaxed. But his dick had stiffened fully. Not any longer but now probably just barely too girthy to get a hand around, with Angus’s cockhead resting atop the bottom of his treasure trail.

It was nearly inaudible, that first rumbled exhale. But the spurt of cum that accompanied it had a noticeable, wet squelch sound as it sailed from his cocktip to just below his chest. The peacefulness of sleep his expression relaxed back into as his cock swelled again and again, shooting cumshot after cumshot onto his belly, his chest ,his shirt, his chin, until Angus had covered himself in his own white streaks.

And each one hardened me more and more. Far away, I could hear the convo downstairs like it was a million miles away, and with a quick glance to be sure the door on the floor remained undisturbed, I rose. My own erection pointing with need toward the bed. Knowing I should leave, or wake him up, or anything else, my hands went to my fly. I undid the button, feeling for the hot, hard length inside. My touch felt good against it, and the warm air of Angus’s body heat idly turning the temp up felt even better on the skin of my own cock.

It was sweaty from being stuck inside all day, but even wetter was the tip, already starting its first drip into the carpet. Angus’s cock hadn’t softened from full mast, not yet. It gave final, lethargic kicks each with their own sticky dribbles of liquid into the forest of bush below. I had no idea which head I was thinking with, but I repositioned, threading my leg between the free space between Angus’s so I could lower myself over him as much as I dared.

The angle was awkward, hovering above his crotch all askew, but I needed him not to wake up as I brought myself beside him. My hard dick next to his semi-soft one, he still had me beat. The thought made a pang race through my shaft. And then I drew my fist across myself. Then again. Then again.

My breath sped up. The thoughts of who I was standing over racing at mach speed through my mind. Rather than making me stop, my eyes added on to the details. Angus’s bearded face. His broad neck. A torso of beefy chest, wide shoulders, big belly that the bed barely supported. One arm hanging off the side, another crossed blissfully over his outie.

Faster and faster I worked myself, feeling the pressure of heated pleasure building up deep in me. I set my meat as close to his as possible, where the streaks should mostly line up. And then I accidentally went too far, and the head of my cock touched against his.

Impossibly warm. Harder than I thought another guy’s, especially his, dick would be. And my next pump was accompanied by that feel-good twist that had never been that strong before. One rope, three, five, I let out shot after shot after wet shot of cum over Angus, my lines of orgasm mixing with his in his treasure trail, chest hair, his naked stomach.

As my ropes became spurts became drops, it was easier and easier to stifle my breath. Angus still lay there, head lolled, body resting with the laxness only deep sleep can bring.

Somewhere in my mind, post-nut clarity might have been starting, but unlike every other time in my life, I wasn’t that much less hard than I was even before I came. I massaged what I thought were the last few droplets of off-white out of me, savoring the loosening feeling of pleasure as I did and making sure each one fell onto Angus’s cockslit, but my half-chub started chubbing back up.

I gripped myself. At some point a cooler head had to prevail and this one was only getting hotter. Flipping my erection into my waistband, I prayed to whatever god or devil that would listen as I brought his boxer briefs back up from his balls over his dick. It was leaning a bit more than it was before, but there was absolutely still a tent in his underwear when I was done.

It was easy enough to back away. My hand was just as practiced at smoothly opening the attic’s trap door as it was, uh, the other thing I was just doing with it. It did take a swift grabbing hold of the stepladder to stop it from descending with a clang to the wood floor below, but I was able to let myself out and reset it, finally closing the door behind me.

“Harrison!” Dad said when I found him still in the recliner, after a quick trip to the bathroom to wash the smell of orgasm off me. “Just missed yer Ma.”

“What?” I raced to the window overlooking the driveway. Sure enough, a familiar flickering tail light was disappearing in the distance. “She’s my ride!”

He guffawed behind me. “Ah, she’ll be back.”

I ran a hand down my face. “With nightcaps galore.”

He didn’t argue, only gave me a lopsided grin and a clap on the shoulder. “Couch’s free. Like old times? ‘Sides, since he ain’t with you I assume Angus’s still out cold. If ya really want, I’ll jet you back and handle her by my lonesome when she shows.”

My eyes darted to the ceiling. I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “Nah. I’m kinda looking forward to seeing him, honestly.” I chuckled. “Awake, I mean.”