The look on his face kind of hits you in the gut, low down where you don't expect it. You can feel your heart beating surprisingly steady, all through your chest and stretching across to the back of your neck.
"What?" You ask, like you can't believe what he said. You believe it all right; it's just that it's so fucking ridiculous that you want to make sure Jake actually meant what he said.
Jake looks away, keeps his eyes down and turns his shoulders away, just enough that you can't make out his expression, just see the way he's got his shoulders raised and how his hair's getting long enough to brush the curve of his jaw.
You tighten your lips, make them a line that maybe could show Jake how totally unimpressed you are, except he's not looking at you. Instead he's looking all sad and shit, face turned down like he doesn't want you to see him cry, except that he doesn't cry so he's just doing his best to block you out, and all you want to do is—
So you press him up against the wall, and he doesn't see you coming or get a chance to throw an arm up to push back, so you've got him. You can feel the warm dampness seeping through his thin tee shirt, the sweat on the back of his neck sliding against your chin.
"Come on," he chokes out, pressing his shoulders back into your chest. He doesn't get much space from your bedroom wall, just rubs the material of his shirt up against your bare chest, and your nipples respond awkwardly.
Jake sighs and leans forward. You follow, bracing one leg between his so that he can't make any sudden moves to get away.
"The hell was that?" You ask again, because you still don't understand. You're holding Jake only because you know he'll do a runner if you don't. It's kind of like that first time you kissed him, only you're a little quicker on your feet.
"Nothing. Just forget it," Jake tells you, his chin digging into his shoulder and the gentle curve of his jaw dusted with brownish stubble. He's been letting the bleached parts of his hair grow out, so there are pieces of white blond hair stuck to his face. They don't really match the colour of his unshaven jaw, but you like it anyway.
"Dude," you say, and lean in just a little with just your hips, a move that you maybe saw on television once or twice and haven't realized how effective it is until, yeah. Jake shifts a little, one hand reaching back to grab at your shorts and getting your side instead.
You lean into him, just a little more, enough so that you can taste the salt in the sweat on his neck, feel the way he shudders down to his toes, and so maybe it's a little weird that you've got your brother pinned to the wall, but it's so hot and good that you don't really have room for weird.
"Shit," Jake breathes out, then struggles to turn against the wall. "Let me—let me."
"Yeah," you say, and take enough of a step back so that he can twist around but not enough to get away.
Jake has his eyes closed, head tilted back so that he's taller than you at this angle, so you settle for mouthing at a fading spot on his neck. He moves at that, brings a hand up to the back of your head and you know that both of you are thinking about the time your mom asked about it, told Jake to be a little smarter or wear higher collars. You nearly asked him to fuck you that night, because it's just. You feel so wrong but you can't stop this, not even if you wanted to.
"Yeah, all right," Jake says, chin still pointed up, cheek pressed into your temple. "Maybe, you know, maybe this is all right?"
"Maybe," you agree, keeping your eyes open when Jake leans down and kisses you, tongue and teeth and eyes staring back into yours.