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Subject: Lucky Chances Part 3, Chapter 1 Standard disclaimer: This story depicts sexual acts between siblings and minors. Author’s Notes: If you like this story, feel free to check out my other works at the Prolific Authors fty//authors.htmlxpud Also, if you have anything at all to say, feel free to drop me a line: xpud at yahoo dot com. I love hearing from readers! Credit goes out to NeverAnywhere for helping with formatting, editing, and suggestions. IMPORTANT NOTE: As the title suggests, I am switching up the format of the story to smaller chunks for multiple reasons, not the least of which is actually having something available for you, the fine readers, to read. Also, the original format was simply because the first “part” was originally intended to be a single one-off short story. It works better, at least for my own mind and sanity, to break this into chapters to keep the story moving. So please, do not be alarmed that this is a much smaller section of story; the same amount of story will be told, and the boys will receive their due. Support Nifty: Please remember readers, without the generosity of Nifty, we would not have this great place for these stories. Please donate whatever you can to keep it open and running for years to come! Part 3, Chapter 1 The next morning starts similarly to the last time I spent the night, with me waking up decently before Chance and enjoying a quiet morning for a bit. Not that Chance is loud, or anything — well, okay, so he is, but it’s still nice to sit in the quiet outdoors for a while. Things change around the time that I start getting hungry, though. I go back inside to see his mom cooking up bacon and eggs (good thing Chance has my metabolism, or he’d be so fat, I swear). She sees me come back in and asks, “Could you go check on Chance? Let him know that it’s breakfast time.” “Sure,” I reply, heading upstairs. Halfway up, I can hear the shower running. That answers that question. I notice the bathroom door is open, so I peek my head inside and knock on the door to announce my presence. “Come in!” Chance calls out. “Door’s already open,” I remark. “Oh,” he says in a lower voice. “My bad.” “Hey, breakfast’ll be ready in a bit. Bacon and eggs. Just so you know.” “Cool. I’ll be done in a sec.” Thoughts of stepping into the shower with him invade my mind for a moment, but I know that’s just a good way to feel bad about myself, so I ignore them and head downstairs. Chance shows up at the dining room table just as breakfast is ready, and we all sit to eat a nice, quiet breakfast. More quiet than I expect, really; there’s a little conversation here and there, but nobody has a lot to say, apparently. Chance’s mom asks, “You boys enjoy yourselves?” I look to Chance, who deliberately takes another bite of eggs. I raise my eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t look over to me. I guess it’s my turn to answer. “Yeah, it was good. Yesterday was super fun.” I adjust my bracelet and new necklace as the memories of yesterday make me aware of them. “Good,” she says with a smile. “Those look nice on you, by the way. Good choices, Chance.” Chance finishes a bite of bacon. “Thanks.” Silence falls upon the table again. I finish my meal, occasionally glancing over at Chance, but he pays full attention to his food and nothing else. When he finishes, he asks, “May I be excused?” “Of course,” his dad nods. He silently gets up and takes his plate into the kitchen, rinsing it off and placing it in the sink. From my seat, I can see him walk out back and close the door behind him. “May I be excused, as well?” I ask politely. My food isn’t finished, but my breakfast appetite today just isn’t all that big. “Yes, you may,” Mr. Lockhart says formally. I can’t help but feel like he’s being ironically pretentious, but it’s hard to tell for sure. I excuse myself, process my plate and silverware the same way Chance did, and follow him outside. “Hey,” I say. “Hey,” he says, relaxing on one of the plastic chairs near the railing on the side of the deck. He stares forward at one of the neighbor’s yards. I drag a chair next to him, fully aware of the eerie mirror of last week that this is becoming. “So…I guess it’s my turn to ask.” “Ask what?” “What you’re thinking about.” “Oh.” He smiles a little bit, probably realizing the same thing I just did. “What was your answer? ‘Oh, everything.'” He even tries to mimic the hand and head motions that I did when I said that. I respond, “I think it was, ‘Oh God, everything,’ but that’s close enough.” He laughs a little bit and shakes his head, still staring off. “So is that your answer?” I ask. “More or less, I guess,” he replies. “Well, I know where the conversation went last time, but I’m just gonna fast-forward past the part where one of us has a panic attack and get to the last bit, if that’s cool.” That finally earns a raised eyebrow and a look from him. “All right.” “So.” I take a measured breath. “Even though I’m dying to know what you’re thinking, it’s your mind, your thoughts. If you want to talk about it, you know I’m happy to listen.” He rolls his eyes, but more in an exasperated way than the usual way. “How do you always make everything sound so…so mature? So, like, adult?” I find myself taken aback by the question, especially with how intense he asks it. “Uh…therapy, mostly. Practice, I guess. Does it…bother you?” “No!” he replies quickly. “No, it’s just, like, if I could talk like you do, I mean…you musta had a huge group of friends at your old school.” Where is he going with this? “Not really. I mean, I guess it was pretty okay and all, but I kinda kept it small on purpose.” He looks at me like I just said that gravity was a lie. “But…you, like, you could be the most popular kid in school, I swear. You just know how to talk, y’know?” “Okay, so first off, no, not really. I start out with my foot in my mouth when I talk to new people, and crowds? Don’t even get me started, cuz you won’t be able to. I’m liable to piss myself in front of an audience.” He snickers a bit, but he doesn’t respond. “Second, clearly you know how to talk to people, because half the school knows you. I don’t understand–” Chance interrupts, “Yeah, and imagine how it’d be if I knew how to talk like you do. I’d have everyone as friends. I could get anyone I want. It’d be crazy.” The conversation halts as I process what he said. “Is that what this is about? Having a boyfriend?” “Yeah, but–I mean no, not really, it’s just…” Chance sighs heavily. “Look, forget I said anything.” I venture, “It sounds like you need some time to sort those thoughts out. Heh, maybe you’re a little more like me than I thought.” He looks back at me with a scrutinizing stare. “Maybe so,” he finally says. Another pause silences the conversation for a moment. I cautiously say, “So…would you like me to stay and talk about it, or would you like me to go so you can think about things?” He looks up with fear in his eyes. “No, no, you don’t have to go, it’s just–” “I won’t be hurt, I promise. Really. I just know how it is when you need time to think, y’know? Trust me, I know how that goes. I’ve been doing a lot of that, recently. So, tell you what: I’m going to go ahead and go home, and if you want to talk or anything, you know my number. How’s that sound?” He stares at me a moment longer before closing his eyes and sighing deeply. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I…I need some time. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” “Chance.” I stare him down with a knowing smile. “Look who you’re talking to.” “Okay, okay, yeah, I get it.” He stands up and scoots the chair back over to the table. “Some Smash while we wait for your dads? I need to throw a few bombs.” “Deal.” We duke it out in explosive fashion for a while until my parents come to pick me up. Sadly, I don’t get a text or anything from him for the remainder of the weekend; I hope that everything is okay, but I don’t want to seem like I’m being nosy or overbearing, so I’m just going to let him talk to me when he’s ready, I guess. I mean, if I were in his place, I’d want me to do the same thing. I think. Interestingly enough, things finally start to settle into a sort of comfortable pattern after that weekend. The school days themselves go by decently quickly, now that everyone’s way past the weirdness. We do get a few good comments on our new accessories, especially from Ty. Now all we have to do is swap accessories one day to really piss him off. Yeah, yeah, I know I’m evil, but really, how many people out there wouldn’t do the same if they found out they had a twin out of nowhere? It’s just…something you do. At least, I’d expect it. Anyway, starting even the very next Monday at school, Chance acts around me like that conversation never happened; he’s just the same old charismatic, smiling jokester that everyone’s used to, like he flipped on the “Cool Guy” switch and went into autopilot. I have no idea how he does it, but it makes me hate myself all the more, since a) I’m not that cool, and b) he’s…when he’s like that, he’s just, I dunno. Attractive, I guess? Not like, I mean it doesn’t make him look better or anything, but “attractive” as in I want to be around him. Or, y’know, more than that. Honestly, though, I’m kind of over the fact that I’m an incestuous, backwater freak that’s in love with his brother. I mean, there’s only so much reminding yourself of what a terrible person you are before it just gets boring, right? Besides, it’s really only the weekends where it gets bad, so that’s most of the week where I can basically ignore the problem. Speaking of ignoring problems, Chance has been sitting with his other friends in lunch. I see him across the lunch room occasionally, laughing it up with them and such; after lunch, he and I will occasionally catch each other’s eyes, and all I see from him is this almost-guilty stare and a quick look away, as if walking away from it will make it all go away, like it never happened. Granted, I dunno if they’re still making gay jokes, but I haven’t heard him say anything about it one way or the other, and I’d expect him to, y’know, wanna say something to me about it if he actually decided to stand up for himself. It really pisses me off. It’s like, Chance, c’mon. You’re better than this. But I don’t want to confront him again about it, if only because it breaks my heart to see him hurt. I’m such a damn softie. Ugh. As I was saying, though, the weekends are part of the pattern, too. The next weekend, we have another sleepover, even though it’s at our place for a change. It’s not some big all-day event like last time, either, just him showing up a little bit before dinner and then spending the night. Dinner itself is amazing: rotisserie chicken (okay, it’s just the oven, but it tastes the same) with balsamic-glazed Brussels sprouts and rice pilaf. Have I mentioned how much I enjoy my parents’ cooking? Seriously. Chance has no idea what to expect until the plate arrives; he stares at it for a moment, somewhat wide-eyed, and says, “This looks like it came from a restaurant.” Papa Chris just smiles as he finishes placing the plates down in front of everyone. “I’ll take that as quite the compliment.” Papa Davy quips, “Waiter, chef, and manager; so many hats for such a small restaurant.” Papa Chris leans stumbles rather obviously, bumping Papa Davy’s chair. “Oops! Clumsy me. I hope you didn’t get chicken grease on that nice shirt, there.” Papa Davy adjusts his button-down shirt, a fancy mother-of-pearl one with a swirling floral design criss-crossing the front, saying haughtily, “A proper queen knows how to eat without a spill or spot.” kocaeli escort bayan In a sassier voice, he adds, “And I know who’d be footing the bill for the cleaners if I did, anyway.” Chris gives a closed-mouth laugh as he sits down and puts his napkin in his lap. “Well?” he says. “Dig in!” Chance has been looking back and forth between my dads’ little moment and me, as if he needed me to explain everything to him. I just shrug and smile. Chance blinks a few times, shrugs, and obliges, prying open his chicken like he’s looking for treasure. After a minute of my parents leisurely eating, me efficiently stuffing myself, and Chance devouring his food like a vacuum, Papa Davy remarks, “Well, it must be terrible; Chance hasn’t touched a scrap of his food.” Chance looks up, chicken bone halfway in his mouth with its skin dangling across his chin. “Whuh?” he asks through his food, obviously confused. Papa Davy howls with laughter as I snicker at the sight. I say, “Chance…he’s just teasing. Keep eating.” “Thith ith THO GOOD,” he says with a mouthful of deliciousness. He chews a few more times and swallows. “Like I can’t stop eating.” “Well, just remember to breathe,” Papa Davy reminds him with a ridiculous grin on his face. Once the dinner itself slows a bit, Papa Chris turns to Chance. “So, it’s nice of you to spend time over here. We’d like to get to know our new son a bit more.” Chance looks up from his last few bites and smiles bashfully, the redness blossoming on his cheeks almost immediately. “Um, thanks. For letting me come over, I mean. Y’all have a nice house.” He looks down at his plate and adds, “And really good food.” Papa Davy starts chanting, “That chicken brings all the boys to the yard,” and dancing in his seat in the most cringe-worthy way possible. “And they’re like, it’s better than yours…” “PAPA!” I yell over his voice. “I thought you loved me!” Papa Davy stops, hand pressed against his chest. “Are you insulting my rapping?!” “No, no,” I say carefully. “It’s actually very good. At ‘Death by Cringe.'” “Well,” he replies, “I could teach you, but–” “PAPA.” I glare at him. “But I’d have to–” “PAPA!!” I throw my napkin in his face. Papa Davy starts cracking up; Chance and Papa Chris are trying and failing to not laugh at the spectacle. “As you were saying, Chance…” I offer after everyone is finished cracking up. “Oh, no, I was just saying y’all are cool, and I like the house and food. That’s all. And then…that all happened.” Papa Chris asks, “Well, I don’t really know a whole lot about you, so…I guess let’s start with the basics. What are you into? Athletics? Games? Singing?” Chance smiles ruefully. “I can’t sing to save my life. I squeak like a dog toy and I carry a tune like…” I finish, “Like a bar of soap in the rain?” “Yeah!” “Yeah, me too.” Papa Davy claps his hands together. “Do I hear BOY BAND?!” I stare blankly at him. “You don’t WANT to hear this boy band.” I give a sidelong glance at Chance, and we both giggle. Chance continues, “But I mean, I guess I like gaming and Legos, and, y’know, hanging with friends, that kind of thing.” “And talking in front of crowds like it’s nothing,” I add with a raised eyebrow. “And drawing those crowds just to talk to them.” “What? I do not!” he says defensively. “Dude. The amount of people that came up to me and thought I was you, I thought the whole school was playing a major prank on me. It was insane.” “Yeah,” he says with an eye roll, “but I don’t, like, gather a bunch of people up just to talk to them. I’m not that desperate.” “So you’re at least a little desperate?” I tease. “I–” He starts, but realizes the trap he fell into. “Okay, yeah, I deserved that.” “Honey,” Papa Davy says to me, “We don’t need to roast Chance; the chicken was more than enough.” “True,” I admit with a mischievous smile. Papa Chris asks, “So are you into any sports or clubs or anything?” Chance replies, “Well, later this year, I’m hoping to be part of the drama festival. I like doing monologues and things. Other than that, I like to go skating with friends, and I do some jogging, sometimes.” “Really?” Papa Chris says. “Luke used to go jogging with us back in the day.” “The days before old age robbed me of my youthful energy and resilience,” Papa Davy adds melodramatically. “Which was like three years ago,” I clarify. “SO old.” Papa Davy picks up a fork in a shaky hand and points it at me. “You stay out of this, whippersnapper!” he squeaks out in an impression of a ninety-year-old geezer. Chance snorts. “You two are ridiculous. I love it.” “You see what I have to put up with?!” I say to Chance while pointing a butter knife back at Papa Davy. “Now, gentlemen,” Papa Chris says with mocking solemnity, “please put your weapons down. I don’t want to have a Silverware Standoff in my kitchen. Besides, those are my good pieces. Don’t ruin them.” I gently put my knife down, staring Papa Davy down the entire time. We both try our best to remain straight-faced, but the effort is too much and we both start laughing stupidly at each other. “Anyway,” I say with that emphasis you put when you’re ready to change the subject, “I’d like to start up jogging again, if you wanna go sometime.” “That’d be cool!” Chance beams. “But not tonight. I’m stuffed.” “Oh God, no,” he agrees. Papa Chris chuckles a bit. “You’re welcome,” he says with a satisfied smile. “So, Chance: how does it feel now, having a brother?” Chance just responds, “Man.” He stares off for a moment. “It’s insane. It’s like…like I just woke up from a dream, and now everything is different. I mean, I have a brother, a twin brother, and my dad isn’t, I mean, I guess wasn’t always a guy, and…I dunno.” He looks at me and smiles. “It’s really awesome, though, having a brother now.” “Well, I’m glad you two get along so well,” Papa Chris says with a nod. Papa Davy adds, “Seriously. You have no idea how bad siblings can be. Ugh.” “Well,” Papa Chris says while standing up, “I don’t want to take up your entire night with questions. If you two wouldn’t mind cleaning up your plates and putting them in the sink, David can get the dishes and I’ll go watch TV.” “Excuuuuuse me?” Papa Davy says. Papa Chris looks at him and says, “I think you meant to say, ‘Thanks for cooking! I don’t mind doing the dishes at all.’ Then I say, ‘I knew you’d understand.’ Then I go watch TV.” “Oh, no no no,” Papa Davy replies. “I’m fine with the dishes. You’re not watching TV, though, unless you work these knots out of my back. Arms up in the air cutting hair all day is exhausting.” I roll my eyes and dump the chicken bones in the trash, rinsing my plate afterward. Chance follows my lead, and we both head upstairs. I sit down in my computer chair and boot up the computer. Chance sits on my bed and sighs. “Dude. Your parents are cool.” “Eh, they get annoying when you live with them.” “Yeah but like, they just seem to be so much more fun than mine. My parents are sweet to everyone else and all, but it’s like prison camp when nobody else is around. We don’t have fun, joking conversations or anything, and if I talk back to them…” he drags a finger across his throat. “Come on, it can’t be that bad,” I say, browsing my list of games to see if anything two-player is worth installing. “I’m sure they love you and treat you okay.” “I guess,” he says with an eye roll. “It’s not like they abuse me or whatever. They’re just super strict and kinda boring.” “Aw, that sucks. My parents are kinda strict, but they’re really caring. They’re not the most exciting people in the world, but I guess they’re okay.” “Better than my parents. Dad goes to work in the morning, I go to school, Mom stays home. I come home, Dad comes home, we have dinner, I play games, we go to bed. Rinse and repeat.” “You mean you guys never go out and do anything? That’s hard to believe.” Chance thinks a moment. “Yeah, I guess I’m not giving them enough credit. We go do things sometimes, but y’all just seem so much more together, y’know?” “I guess I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but I am pretty close with my parents. I haven’t had the problems that everyone else complains about with their parents, like privacy and all that.” Chance sighs. “God, I’m afraid that one of them will walk in at any moment while I’m jacking off or something.” “That happened to me once, yeah.” “Oh my God!” Chance exclaims, wide-eyed. “I would have died. Right there, just dead. What happened?” I already feel my ears turning red as I reply, “Well, first off, it was Papa Davy, so of course he goes full-on Queen LaFreaksha at first, screaming like someone was murdered.” Chance cracks up laughing, but I continue, “Thankfully, though, after Papa Chris comes up to find out if the house is on fire, we sit and have The Talk. After that, they bought me a lock for my door and promised to knock.” Chance is still laughing. “Queen LaFreaksha?! You come up with the BEST names.” God, he’s adorable when he laughs. “But like,” he continues, “you didn’t get in trouble or anything?” “Why would I? Papa Davy walked in on me. If anything, he was in trouble.” “Yeah, but you were jacking off.” I stare at him a moment. “And?” “Well? You’re not supposed to.” “…Why not? My dads both said it’s healthy and natural.” Chance stares at me like I started speaking Russian. “Yeah, but…I mean, maybe it’s different since y’all are all guys. I mean, Mom hasn’t talked to me about it, so I have no idea how she would react, and now that Dad’s actually a woman, I–” I quickly lean forward and put my hand over Chance’s mouth, surprising him into silence. “No, he’s not. He is a man, and that doesn’t change a thing. Besides, even before you knew that, you guys still didn’t ever talk about it, so that’s not an excuse.” Chance furrows his brow and lowers my hand. “Wait, you mean you think I should have the conversation with them? Like, start it? Are you nuts?!” “No, not–argh, just listen for a moment, will you?” When I see that Chance is actually listening for a moment, I say, “Your parents love the hell out of you and want you to grow up healthy. Why do you think they’d freak out if they knew that you masturbated?” “Ugh, don’t call it that. It’s weird.” I roll my eyes. “Fine, whatever. ‘…if they knew that you jacked off.'” “Look, I just know them, okay?” Chance looks offended. “They’d go crazy.” “Hm.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I think you’re just being paranoid, but I won’t push the issue.” A small silence falls over us as I continue looking for something to do on the computer. “Hey, Chance.” “Yeah?” “Come over here. I wanna show you my Minecraft server.” He comes over and stands next to me. “Oh, sorry, there’s a camp chair over there on the wall if you want somewhere to sit.” He grabs the chair and sits in it. A moment later, he exclaims, “Oh! Oh yeah! Luke, I was talking with some friends, and they said Minecraft is compatible with phone to computer! Could you check and see?” “Uhh…I can check.” This is news to me. I go to the Minecraft site, where I find that apparently there’s a new version of the game that does that. “Oh, the Bedrock Edition apparently is. Neat.” “So let’s do that!” “Well, I have to buy it, first. I don’t have that version.” “Damn, really?” “Yeah, I just have the old version that they call the ‘Java Edition’ now. Hmm…how much is it? Maybe I can convince my parents…oh.” “What?” Chance asks, looking up from his phone, where he has already loaded up Minecraft. “Gimme a sec. I think I can get a copy for free.” “What? Why? That’s awesome!” I follow a series of links that allow me to get a copy of the Bedrock Edition since I already have the older edition. kocaeli sınırsız escort A moment later for installation, and I boot it up. “Well, here goes nothing.” Chance pauses his phone and watches eagerly as I futz around with the settings. It turns out that it’s not hard at all to make it work, as long as we’re on the same wi-fi network. I start up a server and open it to LAN, and he is able to log on. “YES! I’m in!” he cheers as he walks over and starts punching a tree. (It’s a Minecraft thing.) We immediately set to work constructing a base of operations, or at least a structure that will keep out monsters for the first night. Chance goes happy-go-lumberjack and cuts down a large portion of the forest before nightfall, so that by the time the monsters start spawning at dusk, we’ve got a fort to work with rather than a tiny little cottage. “There!” Chance says, placing the last wooden plank in place. “Nothin’s gettin’ in here.” “Or out,” I mention. “There’s no door yet.” “Don’t need one until morning, anyway, so no worries.” Chance spins his avatar around in the middle of the room. “This is our safe place. The Lockhart-Chatham Fortress of…Brotherhood.” I can’t help but laugh a little. “Our names together sound stupid pretentious.” Chance gawks at me a moment. “It sounds fine! Not like we had a choice, you know.” I shrug. “True. I wonder what our last name would have been.” Chance puts down his phone and stares off thoughtfully. “Y’know, I never even thought of it that way. We would have had the same last name if we weren’t adopted.” The thought hits us both a little harder than expected, I think; neither of us say anything for a few moments. Eventually, as the sun rises over the roofless fortress we’ve created, the sounds of burning zombies slowly dying in the sunlight breaks me out of my reverie. “So,” I ask, “do you want to go adventuring, or work more on the house, or…?” Chance thinks about it. “I’m not in the mood to go digging or adventuring. Let’s just make a house.” He takes out his wooden planks, builds a staircase on one wall, and starts constructing the rest of the house. “I’m going to see what we’ve got around the place. We need wool and wheat, and all that.” “Sounds good.” He continues focusing on his goal. After another hour of building, Chance says, “There!” From Chance’s phone, I hear his character jump off the roof and hurt himself. At my shocked expression, Chance just laughs about it and says, “What? I’ll heal. Anyway, come back and check it out.” I make my way back to the house to see quite the mansion: three stories, sloped roof, windows everywhere…it’s kinda crazy. “…Damn,” I say. “That’s a house.” “You like it?” he asks, beaming. “Come inside.” He opens the double doors to reveal a throne room with two large stone thrones in it. “I didn’t have enough time to make it all stone, but here’s a start.” “Jesus, you went all out on this.” “Told you I like Minecraft. We haven’t found any redstone yet, but I want to make a secret passage over here that leads down to a dungeon where we can put people that piss us off, and then over here…” Watching him go on about his creation just fills me with glee. After all the things I hear him being unconfident or anxious about, it’s really nice to see him take pride in something. “So whaddya think?” he asks finally. “This is amazing. I was just going to make a dirt hut and go digging. This is…wow.” “Pff,” he says dismissively, “dirt is for peasants. We are royalty.” I look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Wait. Which one’s the queen?” “What?” he asks, and then barks a laugh. “We don’t need queens around here! We’re both kings!” “Hm,” I say, contemplating it. “‘King Luke’ is okay, I guess. Maybe ‘Luke I.’ ‘King Chance’ has a nice ring to it, though.” “And together we shall rule this land with an iron fist!” He pounds his fist on his knee in emphasis. I point out, “There’re two problems with that, though.” “Yeah?” “One, there’s no people to rule, and two…we haven’t found any iron yet.” He stares at me a moment. “Can kings throw other kings in the dungeon?” “I don’t think so.” “Damn.” We both laugh. “Chance,” I remark, “this is really cool. Maybe once we clear out the rest of the forest out there we can set up a village to rule.” “Yes! You and me, rulers of the world!” “It’s a small world, after all.” I nod solemnly. Chance rolls his eyes. “Now that’s gonna be stuck in my head.” “Ooh! Think about the song in Zazu’s voice from The Lion King. It’s way more entertaining that way.” Chance starts singing the song in a horrible attempt at Zazu’s accent. His voice cracks roughly on the high note, and we both break into a giggle fit. Our laughter is interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in!” I say. Papa Chris pops his head in the door. “You two doing okay?” “Yup!” I say. Chance nods, grinning. “Excellent. Why don’t we get Chance some sleeping materials so he can make a bed on the floor?” “Oh yeah, good point.” I follow Papa Chris out to the linen closet to grab some blankets. He gets the spare pillow from the top shelf and I grab a sheet and thin blanket (my room gets a bit warm), and we head back. Papa Chris says, “All right. You two try to keep it down, okay? I don’t want to have to listen to David complain about the noise.” We both laugh. “Seriously,” I say in agreement, “it’s no fun.” “Goodnight, you two.” “Goodnight, Papa Chris!” Chance says, “Goodnight.” After a short moment, he adds, “…Papa Chris.” Papa Chris looks at him for a moment before a wide smile splits his face. “Goodnight. Sons.” He smiles a moment longer before closing the door. “Wow,” I mention, “I hardly ever see him smile like that. That was really nice of you.” “Well, my parents basically adopted you, so it just makes sense. That, and I’d love to have your dads. They’re freaking awesome.” “Yeah, they’re pretty cool.” We continue playing Minecraft for a bit, but Chance abruptly logs out. “Okay,” he announces, “I’m done with that for now. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” “But it’s only like 9:30.” “I know.” He rummages through his backpack and gets his toothbrush. “Mind if I use y’all’s toothpaste?” “Yeah, sure. Heck, I’ll join you.” I suppose I’m not eating anything else tonight, so that’s fine. We head to the bathroom as Papa Davy crests the top of the stairs. “‘Night, boys!” he calls out on his way to the bedroom. I wave goodnight since I’m already in the process of putting the toothbrush in my mouth. Chance calls out, “‘Night, Papa Davy!” but he doesn’t even turn around. “Aw, he didn’t hear me,” Chance pouts. “Wait. He probably just thought it was me saying that.” “Oh. Hah!” Chance laughs as he begins brushing. We finish up and I get my pill bottle out of the medicine cabinet. “Wait,” Chance says. “Why?” “You said that makes you sleep, right?” I hesitate. “Yeah, why?” Chance replies with a small smile, “I was hoping we could stay up a little while longer.” “…Oh.” I must have been dense not to see this coming. “Okay.” I mean, what else do I say? “Yesss!” he hisses. “See you in the room!” He ducks behind me in the small bathroom and heads to the room. I close the door behind him and sit down to pee, seeing as now I’m getting stiff. I get back in the room and Chance is sitting on the bed, rather obviously tenting his shorts. I close the door behind me and lock it, knowing full well that if one of the parents tried to come in, it’d still raise a ton of questions. At least this way I can deny everything, whether or not they believe me. I sit down on the bed. Chance scoots up near me and asks, “So what do you wanna do this time?” “Me? I’m choosing?” “Yeah.” Chance looks at me expectantly. I glance nervously at the door, but I unzip my pants and free my stiffie. I start to jack it off idly as I think about what I want to do, or I guess what I want him to do to me. I’ll admit it — I’m really more of a “bottom” as far as what I like, I’ve noticed. I mean, I liked screwing him, but I got more excited when he was on top of me. …Yup, that just got me even harder. Chance follows suit, pulling out his own dick and stroking it while watching me stroke mine. I suggest, “We could start out jacking each other off.” “All right.” Chance tentatively reaches over and starts messing with my dick. I wouldn’t so much call it “jacking off” as much as just “gently touching”; either way, it feels awesome. I do the same to him, though I move the skin around a bit more since I know that’s what feels good to me. I must have hit something just right as Chance shakes under a full-body shudder. “Wooh,” he says breathily. I slip my shorts and undies off so that my balls can breathe a bit — it’s rude to keep them cooped up while “Little Lucky”…gets lucky. Sorry, I had to. Chance watches me undress and follows suit, shirt included. We turn and face each other, sitting cross-legged with our dicks pointing to our chins. I remark, “I still can’t get over how weird it is to see me, except that it’s another person.” “Dude, I know,” Chance agrees. “It’s like looking in a mirror, except that I can touch the person on the other side.” To demonstrate, he scoots closer and wraps his hand on my dick, awkwardly jacking it off. It doesn’t feel bad, per se, but it’s not going to get me off before he gets an arm cramp doing it that way. Still, I think it feels better than it should just ‘cuz it’s Chance doing it to me, and my brain makes everything involving Chance automatically “good.” “Here,” I suggest, “do it like this.” I switch my grip up to where, instead of trying to put my pinky at the base of his penis (like it was his own hand jacking him off), I let his dick slide into my hand palm-up, where my thumb rests in his curly little bush. I make sure to let my fingers all drag lightly over his head, watching as he jerks forward in response to the sensation. When I pull my hand back, there is a glistening trail of precum across my palm; it’s fucking seriously hot. “Holy shit,” he says, switching up his own grip to try it on me. It does feel pretty damn good, honestly, with his soft palm rubbing up against the underside of my dick and his fingers dragging over the top. We do that for a little while, both focused on watching how it looks to be doing it to someone else, like reaching through a mirror. Wait a minute. I have an idea. We could go downstairs and — no, that’s way too risky. Either of the parents could come outside and we’d be screwed for life. Well, figuratively. “Whatcha thinkin’?” Chance asks, rasping his fingers firmly across the head of my dick, snapping me out my reverie with a gasp. Oh, fuck it. This is gonna be too hot. “So have you ever thought what it would be like to see yourself in a porn?” “WHAT?!” he screeches in a strangled attempt to be quiet. “You mean filming us?!” “What? No. That would be suicide.” I slide off the bed and go unlock my door quietly. “There’s a full-length mirror in the dining room that Papa Davy uses to check his outfit and all before he heads out the door.” Chance’s eyes were already wide, but his mouth slowly changes from an ‘O’ into an excited, open-jawed smile. “Duuuuuuude.” “Bring your clothes, just in case.” I peek my head outside to hear a quiet house; I motion for Chance to follow, and we head downstairs into the dining room. Up against the wall is a tall, thin mirror, just leaning there slightly so Papa Davy can move it if needed (not that I can think of any reason he’d need to move it). Chance and I stare at each other and ourselves in the mirror, dicks pointing up, balls scrunched up in the cooler temperature downstairs (Papa Chris likes it izmit anal yapan escort cold at night). “So how quiet do we have to be?” Chance whispers. “Like, are your parents light sleepers?” I reply a little louder to show the volume I think is safe, “Well, Papa Davy says he is, but there’s a humidifier, a ceiling fan, and a noisy box fan in their room. It sounds like a hurricane in there.” Chance snickers. “So it wouldn’t be too loud if you did something like this?” he asks, darting his hand under my sack and tickling the underside of my balls with his fingers. “Aah-h-h!” I gasp, standing on my tiptoes. Chance has to cover his mouth so he doesn’t laugh the parents awake. “You little…” I say, but watching him turn red with the effort of stopping his laugh just makes me laugh. That, and watching his dick bounce every time he laughs is hypnotic. We calm down and Chance asks, “So now what?” “Now you watch the show.” I kneel down on the cold tile floor and pop his large dick head into my mouth, sliding down the shaft until he hits my uvula. I watch myself out of the corner of my eye giving my twin brother a blowjob, and I can’t even think about how disgustingly taboo it is — it’s fucking hot. Chance seems to think so too as he steadies himself on the wall beside him, staring at the mirror in fascination. He must think it’s hot, because his dick starts drooling precum like a faucet. I go slowly, reveling in the feel of a dick in my mouth (I have no idea why I like it so much, but I do) and watching myself blow my other self. My dick is crying for attention, so I start jacking it off a bit, as well. After a moment, Chance looks down at me, then to the mirror, and then back. He repositions himself a bit and grabs my head with both hands, not firmly, just enough that it looks in the mirror like he’s moving my head. I slow down intentionally, just to see if he’ll take control. Sure enough, as soon as I slow down more, I feel his hands tug at my head to speed it back up. So, instead of speeding up, I stop moving entirely; he takes over, keeping my head in place while he starts fucking my mouth. I think I just found a new fetish. He does that for a little while longer, watching himself use me like a toy, but he starts to thrust a little too deeply and I gag a few times. I pull myself off and say, “Hey, whoa, don’t choke me.” “Sorry,” he says bashfully. “It was feeling really good.” “Besides,” I add, “this porno still has another scene.” He looks at me all confused until I stand up and turn around. “Ohhh,” he says quietly. I suck on one of my fingers and start working my hole, trying to open it up for him. He sees what I’m doing and kneels down. “Can I try something?” he asks. I know what he wants to try. “You sure?” I ask back. I see him nod in the mirror, so I scoot back a little bit, steadying myself on the edge of the dining room table as he puts his head in my crack. Shortly, I feel his tongue lap up against my hole, and it’s just about one of the most amazing things I’ve ever felt in my life. I try my best not to moan too loudly, but it’s hard not to make any noise when his tongue lights up every nerve in my sphincter. He keeps at it for about half a minute, and by the time he’s done, I have to stop myself from begging him to continue. I stick my finger back in there to check, and it’s definitely a lot more relaxed now. “Okay,” I whisper, and I pop his head in my mouth again to make sure it’s wet (and, let’s be honest, I’m kind of addicted). Then I turn myself around and slowly guide his head to my hole. He places his hands on my hips to steady himself; I stand on the balls of my feet so I can ease down on his dick. I line it up and start pushing myself onto it. It stretches out to where it feels like it should hurt, but I guess I’m so damn relaxed that the head just kinda pops in. That pop, though, makes my butt clench on his shaft reflexively. “Mmmmmmm….” he moans in my ear as I work myself onto his pole. I slide back and forth to make sure everything is still wet enough not to tear anything, and then I bury myself on it, pressing his entire body up against mine and his dick directly into my prostate. I find myself moaning along with him as the stars dance around in my eyes. He slides his hands off my hips and around the front, rubbing them sensually along the insides of my thighs next to my dick. This takes me by surprise; usually, he’s just looking to see how things feel or whatever, but — then I realize what he was doing as he uses those hands to push himself deeper, forcing a grunt of pleasure out of me before he slides out to where only his head is in. He then takes up a slow rhythm, watching the show in the mirror. “Holy crap, this is awesome,” he whisper-moans as he rocks back and forth, his abs pressing against my back as he rolls his muscles down to thrust into me, like a slow wave that travels from his shoulders through his pelvis over and over. I try to respond, but he hits my prostate right when I open my mouth, so all I say is, “Yuhhh…unh.” He giggles, and I don’t give a shit how I sound as long as he keeps this up. I start watching the show a bit more closely. It is mind-blowing to watch myself like this, to watch him. It’s hard to even break down all the different things that are going on here: I’m watching myself get fucked, I’m watching my brother fuck me standing up, I’m getting fucked, by my brother — my crush — and my prostate is going wild. Suddenly, Chance starts to speed up a little bit. I know that means he’s getting closer, and just that thought sends a wash of sensation through my body. As he continues to hit my prostate, I suddenly feel myself going over the plateau without touching myself. Holy shit, I… “I’m gonna cum!” I instinctively reach back and grab both of his hips, pulling him deep into me, steadying myself on him as my orgasm goes into overdrive. I feel my sphincter clenching over and over on the base of his dick as surges of pleasure shoot through my whole midsection. I watch, seemingly in slow motion, as a large jet of semen shoots out of my dick, more than I’ve ever shot in one wad. It’s mostly clear, but it’s a lot more than normal. As the orgasm rips through me, I feel Chance’s breathing pick up quickly. He takes a deep breath and whimpers in my ear as I feel his dick swell up; he takes another breath and grunts, his breath catching as he holds me in place, pumping into me again and again. After both of us have control of our bodies again, I exhale heavily, trying to catch my breath. I look over in the mirror to see us, pressed up as closely to one another as we can be, arms wrapped around each other in some sort of weird almost-knot, holding each other’s hips where neither can escape. I can’t look away from it. Chance is resting his head on my shoulder, panting in my ear with his entire body plastered against mine. Chance’s hands drop off my hips to hang loosely by his sides. As he slowly regains his breath, I decide to tease his still-throbbing dick a bit; I clench my muscles again, making it do that pumping action in response, like last time. Each time I do, Chance grunts, “Mm,” into my shoulder. “Feels so goooood,” he finally says after lifting his mouth off my shoulder. I think he drooled a little bit. I look down at the gooey mess I made on the floor; I have seriously never shot that much. “Hey, Chance?” “Yeah?” “I gotta clean up. That, and my legs are kinda shaky.” “Oh, heh.” Chance puts his hands on my shoulders and slowly pulls out; before I realize it, though, a couple of drops of his cum fall out of me. “Uh, you have a little more to clean up,” he says with a giggle. “Crap, haha, I didn’t think about that part. Oh well. Tile floor for the win.” “Fuck, bro,” Chance says with a shake of his head and a wipe of his brow, “that was so, so, so good.” I hear him as I pass through the kitchen to go get paper towels. As I’m wiping up the mess, I reply, “You’re telling me. You made me cum without touching myself.” Chance blinks at me. “I did? That can happen?” “Yes, and I guess so. I seriously didn’t touch myself or anything, and did you see the amount of jizz?” I stand back up and check the tile from various angles to make sure there’s no more cum on the floor. “Yeah. I guess it was good for you, too, then.” “Just a little,” I reply sarcastically. Chance follows me through the kitchen as I throw the paper towels away. “We should probably get back upstairs, just in case someone wants a midnight snack.” “But it’s only like 11:00.” I stare at Chance. “I can’t tell if you’re trolling me or not.” “Oh, no no, I was just trolling.” The look on his face suggests otherwise. We head back upstairs. I take my medication, and we set up Chance’s blankets and such on the floor, moving the computer chair into a corner. I put my underwear back on while he stays naked as we sit together on my bed. “Man,” Chance says after a small silence, “I really, really hope it’s this good when I have a boyfriend.” Ignoring the sting of that statement every time he makes it, I ask, “So have you thought about coming out, yet?” His silence is answer enough. He finally mutters, “I just don’t wanna lose all my friends.” “Why would you?” “Come on, you met them.” Chance shrinks in on himself a little bit. “You mean they’re homophobic?” Chance shrugs. “Chance,” I say with emphasis, “if they hate what you are, then why are you still their friend?” He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Luke. It’s…” He sighs. “There’s more to it.” He sees me looking at him expectantly and adds, “Look, I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” “Well, when?” I ask, exasperated. “Remember, you asked me not to come out, so I’m waiting on you. I don’t want to have to lie about it.” “You lie to your parents about it.” The softly-spoken attack hits home, making me lose my words. “That’s… that’s different. I don’t lie to them; I just…don’t tell them everything.” Chance looks at me with pleading eyes. “Then do that at school for me! Please? Just for a little while longer.” “Until when?” “Until…” Chance trails off. “I mean, until I’m ready, y’know?” I can’t hold back my irritation. “Yeah, I know, but when is that gonna be? Next week? Next year? Senior year? When are you gonna be ready? You sit here and talk about wanting a boyfriend every time I see you, but you won’t come out. So, when?” Chance stares back at me, wide-eyed. He suddenly looks aside and says in a wavery voice, “I don’t know.” I watch in silence as his eyes mist over. “Chance. You have to–” Chance snaps, “Can we stop talking about it now? Please?!” I watch in stunned silence as he gets off the bed, turns out the light, and bundles himself up in his covers. Good job, Luke. Pressure your vulnerable, scared brother until he breaks while you yourself won’t even live up to your own expectations. I hear a sniffle from the floor. I take a deep breath to steady my voice and say, “Chance, I’m sorry. I got carried away, and…and it’s not fair of me to ask you to do what I won’t do.” Silence. “You can take as long as you need to to come out.” Silence. Yup, real good job, Luke. I sit in bed for a few more minutes, quiet tears trickling down my face, before I finally give up and put my head down. I can just flip the pillow if this side gets too wet. End of Part 3, Chapter 1 Finally glad to get this story back in the works; I know the format is a bit different, but hopefully it’s not too disappointing. Feel free to let me know via email at hoo if you have comments one way or the other regarding longer chapters with longer release dates or shorter with shorter (as this one is). I will be alternating between this story and Eye to Eye, so if you’re a fan of either, know that I am working as I can to write each one, though free time is limited. Right, enough kvetching. Boys! Sex! Angst! Quite the recipe, am I right? Worry not, as there’s plenty more coming. See you soon!

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