x Author’s Notes x

So. New story. Well, just a preview of a story that will be worked on after Lessons in Living, actually. I just had to get the prologue out.

I’m stepping a bit out of my norm, though. I’ve never really wrote a story where the characters were in quite a situation and it’s been forever since I’ve wrote anything remotely M-rated. But I figured it was time I at least try and tackle a work of lemony goodness filled fiction.

That being said, if you’re opposed to yaoi, incestual relationships, abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, or the first person perspective.. I highly doubt you’ll be able to stomach this story. Or even the prologue. Just the prologue and already, I’ve wandered right into M territory..

… That’s a good sign, right?

So, anyway, don’t expect me to post up the first chapter any time soon. I’m going to finish Lessons in Living first before I really start on this project of mine.

! WARNING !

Just in case you didn’t catch it the first time, this story is full blown YAOI, with loads of TWINCEST, a little dash of RAPE, ALCOHOLISM, AND DRUG ADDICTION. Oh, and Liam does get ABUSED a little… er, a lot.

Not your cup of tea? Hit the back button now and save yourself some trouble. Thanks.

Brother Dearest
A Desire Most Forbidden

-...x...-

x Prologue: Alexander x

Today was turning out to be a horrible day. I had woken up late, walked to school, received a lecture from my first block teacher, had been sent to the office to get another long lecture from the principal, and still hadn’t ended up with any sort of detention. It annoyed me that they hadn’t made me stay another hour or two after school that day. I would’ve much rather have stayed there.

So, once the bell rang, signifying that we were free to return home to our merry little lives—perfect parents, picket fence, minivan, cute little puppy and all. It always seemed like people in my classes were wishing for the day to end the second the first bell rang and classes started. Whenever we were let free, I knew people thought I was strange whenever I took as much time gathering my things as possible before slinking out the door, either to go and serve my time or return home.

Today, I took even more time than I usually did because I knew that today, he would be home early. That thought was a confusing one, indeed. It excited me and disgusted me at the same time, and I couldn’t have hated it and loved it more.

I took the long way to my locker, taking up as much time as I could to stash my books and get out the ones I needed to do my homework. Though, I knew my homework wouldn’t be finished. I never finished my homework on the nights he came home early. He made sure to it that History and English were the last things on my mind.

I had what I needed—my English book and a folder or two. There wasn’t much for me to do tonight, if I even did it at all. That was also a disappointment. On the rare chance that maybe I would be spared distractions for the night, there was hardy enough to do to keep me occupied, even if I poured my heart and soul into finishing the paper I had been working on for the past week. Days where my thoughts were allowed to roam were days when my life seemed the most unbearable.

My usual path, the longest way around the school, was empty by now. Good. There was no one to hassle me on my way out. Occasionally, a few boys would lounge about in the halls when I finally left and they just loved to give me a hard time. Even though it was bothersome, it took away about five or ten minutes of the time I would usually have to spend at home. So, it wasn’t all that bad, I suppose.

It was just sad that I didn’t life farther away from the school. If it was up to me, I would’ve wanted to live miles and miles away. I still would’ve walked it entirely, though. Even if I could have easily taken the bus to and from school, I didn’t want to. It would just drop me right off at Hell faster than ever.

This afternoon, the walk only took me ten minutes. I had tried to make myself walk slower, but I couldn’t. All there was in my mind were the thoughts of him and how I couldn’t wait until he was home. It made me sick to be excited over him, but it was an inevitability—impossible to stop, as crazy as it were. When I found myself outside my house, I noted with a quiet laugh how no one would ever expect how horrible life was living in this house. This house with it’s pleasant white exterior, spotlessly clean windows, and perfectly groomed shrubbery on the front lawn.

My heart beat faster than ever as I dragged my feet—heavy, like cinderblocks had been tied to my ankles—towards the front door. I knew he wouldn’t be home yet, but I couldn’t get myself under control as I entered. I shut the door as quietly as I could, hoping my presence wouldn’t be noticed. I had made it to the stairs before I even spotted another person in the house—my mother, desperately trying to clean the messy living room.

She had a new bruise today, I noticed. The t-shirt she was wearing showed off the large blue-black mark across her upper arm while she moved things around. She looked up as I started up the stairs, giving me a weak smile which I couldn’t make myself return. Of course, I sort of pitied her. She really was a good person and hardly deserved a life like this one, but I couldn’t deny that I didn’t hate her just as much as the rest of them sometimes—for giving birth to me and then not having the courage to get away from her psycho of a husband.

My room was the first to the right, though by some sick, disgusting thought process, my mind willed my feet to carry me to his room as they did almost every day. I walked inside, flipped on the light, and took my time going to the desk to start on my homework. It would still be a little while before he came home.

Even though it was more practical to work at the desk, I found myself relocating only five or six minutes after I’d sat down. This time I crawled onto the neatly made bed, taking a moment to breathe in the scent imbedded within the fibers. It was almost intoxicating, the scent of him… As sick as it was for me to enjoy it, I loved how he smelled—always so clean, but with his own unique smell about him that could never be quashed by the likes of body wash or cologne.

I took far longer to revel in his scent than intended, forgetting all about my homework until I heard a door slam downstairs. Suddenly, I was brought back to my senses and I threw my book open, trying to make it seem like I had been actually working on something. I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing that I was completely and utterly obsessed with him.

He took longer than necessary downstairs. I figured he’d grabbed something from the nearly bare fridge or handed off the mail to my parents personally. Then, finally, there was the sound of him ascending the stairs, sending my heart into a pounding frenzy in my chest.

The door swung open and I looked up instinctually. Even though my mind wanted to convince itself that I hated the very sight of him, I knew that I would never get tired of even just looking at him. We were twins—we had the same shaggy brown hair and green eyes of our father. But we were far from identical. He had grown up and filled out while it seemed like I had wasted away, leaving only flesh and bone behind. But we were still enough alike in appearance that I thought it utterly cruel that I was cursed to think of him every time I looked into the mirror.

“Hey,” I mumbled, closing my book with trembling hands. He didn’t respond, finishing hanging up his coat in his closet and kicking off his shoes first before walking over to sit on the side of the bed. He didn’t have to say anything. I knew this was my cue. On days like this, he would want me to crawl into his lap and hang all over him like some clingy pet. But today, some bit of confidence in me was determined not to succumb to what he wanted of me.

He seemed to notice my unwilling mood after he looked back at me and I still didn’t scamper over to get into his lap. Almost instantly, I regretted it, too. I would’ve been better off giving in.

“As stubborn as ever, Liam,” He sighed.

He crawled across the bed until he was straddling me, staring down at me with what could only be annoyance. I quickly turned over onto my back to look up at him. A mouth was over my own instantly, a bittersweet taste I loved and hated simultaneously coming back to me as his tongue explored my mouth. My hands went to clutch at his strong shoulders. He pulled back first, nipping at my bottom lip.

“You’re never going to learn, are you?” He whispered seductively, his voice so deep and resonate.

“Never,” I whispered back, eyes defiant as I could make them.

“Really? I’ll just have to keep punishing you, then,” He was always amused by the way I weakly tried to protest against his advances. Today, he seemed to be especially amused. I knew I was in trouble then. His punishments were never enjoyable and always unbearable and humiliating.

This time, I saw and felt one of his hands wander down my chest, past my stomach, and the hem of my jeans. My eyes weren’t defiant any longer, but pleasing now. But, I was sure whether it was because I was wanting him to let me free or if I wanted him to touch me. He worked slowly, taking his sweet time slipping the button free of the hole and sliding the zipper down. He didn’t both with any more layers, but instead ran his hand over me through the thin fabric of my boxers. A loud groan escaped my lips as his skilled hands worked, arching my back.

“You’re a… b-bastard..” I stuttered, regretting this as well. He leaned his, occupying his lips with pressing rough, wet kisses to my neck. After a moment, he pulled his lips back and looked up at my face, contorted in sick pleasure.

“Apologize,” He commanded simply.

“N-no.. Nngh..” I bit my lip.

“Are you sure?” He asked, smirking now. He slipped his hand underneath the fabric of my underwear and a gasp escaped me.

“I’m sorry…” I groaned, moisture building up at the corners of my eyes, “I’m s-sorry.. Please..”

I wanted him to finish what he started so badly it hurt. But, instead, he withdrew his hand entirely. I stared up at him in shock, my lust-fogged mind unable to comprehend what he was doing. He grinned down at me before he moved to the side of the bed, stood, stretched, and walked to the door.

“We’ll pick this up later. I’m starving,” He looked back at me.

He wasn’t a damn bit hungry. He just wanted to torture me and he and I both knew it. He was gone a second later, leaving me panting and desperate on his bed, the scent of him still present but his wonderful hand gone. I hated him, but I loved him at the same time and sadly, the love was much stronger than the hate.

I was a sick person living a beyond fucked up life. I had an abusive alcoholic for a father, a timid little mother, and worst of all, I was in irreversible love with my sadistic, morally deprived twin brother, Alexander McAllister.