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Michael can pinpoint the exact moment he loses his mind.

“So then Phil said that all dudes knew how suck dick, even if they’ve never done it before. And we all got real quiet ‘cause none of us knew that Phil was all, like that, ya know? I mean he’s got a wife and kids at home and he’s talking shit like that?”

It’s not now.

Now, Michael is wondering why he let Lincoln drink his imported (aka expensive) beer while lounging on his couch when Lincoln has a perfectly second-hand couch in his own apartment across town. There was some mumbling about “laying low” when Lincoln knocked on the door but Michael is so tired from an astonishingly disgusting day at work that he’s decided that he really doesn’t want to know.

“Michael?” Lincoln’s watching him for some answer. Michael’s hardly paying attention to the rambling, as strange as it is for his brother to do.

Stretched out between the couch and his coffee table, Michael’s socked feet are propped up next to a hideous little statue he bought on a whim from IKEA and his tie is loose around his neck. He’s dying for a long shower but settles for a long drag from his icy cold longneck instead. He was on his second when Lincoln showed up.

“I’m sorry, you actually wanted some feedback?” Michael knows he sounds bitchy but…why was Lincoln here anyway?

His brother’s oblivious to how close he is to being thrown out. “Yeah, I mean. That’s fucked up right?”

Michael sighs, replaying the diatribe in his head. “Which part?”

“I don’t know. All of it. I mean,” Lincoln shrugs and his new leather jacket squeaks. “All dudes don’t know how to do that, right?”

Michael only has to think for a second to define the “that”, but it’s the question that causes his fingers to clench around the glass in his hand. Unbelievable, he thinks, a second before he’s shouting. Or as near to shouting as Michael ever gets.

“You’re fucking with me right? I swear Linc, if this is some sort of joke or tease, you can just get the fuck out right now.”

Lincoln’s already sitting stiffly next to him on the couch, like he’s constantly preparing to stand. When Michael attacks, he shifts until he’s almost falling off the cushion.

“Whoa, man. I’m not making fun or anything. I swear. I didn’t know that you had a problem with talking about stuff like that.”

Michael blinks and, in his mind, he can see the beer bottle flying out of his hand to shatter against the wall. It’s only his tight grip on the bottle that keeps his arm still, but he can’t stand to sit next to his brother any longer. His socks slide a bit on the floor as he starts across the room.

Distance is good.

“Now, I know you’re fucking with me!”

“Jesus Christ, Mikey. What’s the problem? I mean, if I’m open to it, well, just talking about it then-,”

Michael whirls out of his pacing to glare at Lincoln. “Stupid’s not a good look on you, Linc. You knew about Jackson.”

He can practically see Lincoln dredge for Michael’s ex-roommate/boyfriend in his mind.

Jackson was a short guy, about 5’4, who couldn’t have weighed more than 125 but worked out enough to probably bench twice his weight. He was Michael’s first in college and a foul mouthed cheater. But Michael thought he was in love at the time and ignored a lot of the obvious (like that Jack was fucking their other roommate too…and the guy down the hall), and while he’d kept the whole affair quiet, he’d brought Jackson to the one Thanksgiving Lincoln hosted when he was still with Lisa.

Yet, apparently Michael hadn’t been obvious enough. Even with Jackson and the three guys (thankfully much taller than Jack) after him.

Lincoln’s still busy getting a clue. “What’s he got to do with anything? What, was he gay?” He puts down his beer with a know-it-all look. “You see, that kinda makes sense.”

Michael blinks at him. “We’re not really related right? You can tell me if I’m adopted, I can handle it.”

“Funny, smart ass. You gonna stop give me your college boy attitude and tell me what’s the big deal?” Lincoln looks like he thinks everything’s okay again but Michael’s still fuming and very suspicious of where this is going.

He tells him ‘the big deal’: “Jackson and I were together for almost two years, Linc.”

Lincoln nearly knocks over his bottle. He’s definitely sitting on the couch now, no longer perching. “Not possible. You’re into the ladies Mike, you can’t lie about that.”

Michael sighs, so damn exhausted that he can’t even overreact for long. “It’s sad that I have to tell you about this, but it’s possible to like both sexes, Lincoln.”

Lincoln chuffs, still looking a little shocky. “I know that.” He picks up his beer and takes a sip. “I just didn’t think you did.”

“Well I never knew that you were so oblivious. Although I really should have expected it.”

“Fuck you.” Despite the words, there’s a smile in his brother’s eyes and something else there as well that Michael can’t figure out.

He comes back to the couch, now a safe zone, and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Like you would know how to.” He watches Lincoln shift awkwardly out of the corner of his eye and gets back up. “I could use another beer.”

The couch isn’t quite safe yet. Not while having this conversation. Things are better for Michael in the kitchen, separated from his brother by a wall, and where his brain can reel over the fact that he just came out to the man.

Oh, and as if he’s not horrified enough, his cock has decided that the memories of Jackson, the good parts, are enough to perk him up.

He can hear Lincoln clearly from the living room. “So, you two…and you actually?”

“What do you think?” Head in the fridge, Michael rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the whole thing. I mean he was a little guy…”

“And he was hung like a horse. I didn’t bottom for him for a year.” Again, Michael’s too tired to edit and he resolves that any unease is Lincoln’s own fault. Stupid question.

No, stupid Phil. He glares down at his cock, willing it to calm a bit before he goes back to the living room. Stupid cock.

“I need another beer,” Lincoln says just as Michael’s leaving the kitchen with his own.

Michael settles in an armchair catercorner from his brother, still away from the couch, and crosses his legs to hide his ‘problem’.

“You’ve hardly started the one you have.” Michael replies without actually looking at the bottle. He can’t help a small grin. “Am I making you nervous?”

He really hopes so, then Lincoln can go home and he can eat leftover take out, jerk off, and go to sleep.

Lincoln, of course, sees it as a dare. “You wish.” He’s silent for a few moments, for dramatic effect Michael’s certain, and then says slowly, “I’m just wondering if maybe…I’ve had that kinda attraction to guys before. I think I might have.”

Michael chokes mid-swallow. He tries to close his mouth before most of his beer escapes down his chin.

He’s still coughing as he asks, “Are you drunk? How much did you have before you came here?”

“No and nothing. Is it that hard to think that I might be, um, attracted to guys?” Lincoln looks like he isn’t sure if he wants Michael’s honest answer to that question.

Clearing his throat, Michael knows what he’s imagined and stopped imagining about Lincoln. He knows what he’s traded in for reality, because reality is very different. It’s Veronica and Lisa and many other insignificant girlfriends in-between.

Yet, Michael still feels like he’s lying when he answers. “Nope. You’re full of shit.”

Lincoln looks very serious. “No, I think I’m serious. I mean if I can’t tell my brother this shit, who can I tell, right?”

Michael can think of plenty of other people who Lincoln can tell, who are paid to listen, but Lincoln’s not done with his confession. His brother shrugs off his jacket, his signature white wifebeater the only thing underneath.

Michael looks away and finishes off the second beer quickly. He’s going to need more.

“I mean it’s not like every guy I meet but every once in a while, I’ll see a dude and find myself sorta scoping him out.”

This is all rather surreal, Michael thinks. But at the same time, he argues to himself, it’s all very Lincoln. Michael can’t remember the last time they’ve had a conversation that could in any way be called “normal”.

“That doesn’t mean you’re bi-sexual, Linc.”

“Well what does?”

Lincoln hasn’t looked him in the eye since he came back from the kitchen and when he does, Michael feels a spark in his belly. His brother’s got that indefinable look in his eye again and Michael’s mouth goes desert dry.

And this is where Michael loses his mind. Or rather, simply puts it aside. Because, yeah, he is very tired, but he’s also had to think of some things he would rather have never thought about again with the object of those thoughts staring at him, waiting for fucking advice, and that’s just not playing fair.

So, fuck it, Michael thinks and just lets his mouth run wild. At least his dick likes the plan.

“Did you get hard looking at them? Did you want to kiss them? Put their cocks in your mouth? Fuck them or want to have them put their cocks in you?”

Lincoln’s silent for so long, Michael wonders if he’s stunned his brother into a coma. Then, he sees the large man shake himself.

“You gotta be so graphic? Where did you get a mouth like that?”

“College offers more than a conventional education, Lincoln.” Michael decides not to argue that he learned Lincoln’s colorful vocabulary back in grade school.

“What if…what if I said yes?”

“To what part?” Michael’s foolish cock jumps at the possibilities.

Lincoln suddenly finds the hardwood of the coffee table fascinating. “Does it really matter? Um, all of it?”

Michael’s silent, trying to will his awakening body to calm the hell down. As if his brain is trying to find him, he suddenly has to take a step back and get some perspective.

“I won’t be mad at you if you tell me this is a joke. Really, Linc. I won’t.”

His brother’s face closes up and Michael knows he’s made a mistake; Lincoln’s angry.

“You know what, Michael? Screw you,” he spits. “You’re always thinking you’re better than everyone else. You think I’m what? Too stupid to have feelings for someone of the same sex? You’ve gotta have a Ph.-fuckin’-d to suck cock now?”

Lincoln’s face is pink with what Michael assumes is a mix of anger and embarrassment. And even though Michael’s being berated, his cock gets a little harder at the conviction in his brother’s voice.

“No, Linc, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess, I’ve only seen you with women and I wouldn’t have ever thought that you were serious about this.” Michael realizes with a start that he sounds as bad as Lincoln did at the beginning of this twisted conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I mean, you’ve got a kid too, Linc.” He did catch Lincoln’s comment about Phil’s family.

Lincoln gives him a shrewd look. “Yeah, I do. But, and I hate to have to tell you this, it’s possible to like both sexes, Michael.”

The echoes of Michael’s earlier words to his brother makes Michael want to chuckle as much as he wants to smack Lincoln’s shaved head. “Laugh riot. I mean seriously, you should go on tour or something.”

With a twist of his stern mouth, Lincoln shoves Michael’s shoulder. Michael tips over to the side, unprepared, but then returns the shove with a punch to the meaty muscle of Linc’s bare bicep. He grins when Linc mutters “ouch” and rubs the spot.

His brother beat the shit out of him when he was younger to keep him out of a gang and, to this day, all their old friends remember the fight and bruises. But what they always forget is that Lincoln taught Michael everything he knew about defending himself for when those same thugs ganged up on him for refusing their invitation.

“So,” Lincoln clears his throat and tries to talk again. “So, say, like, I wanted to, um,” he runs his words together, trying to get the question out faster, “suck someone. How would you…I mean would I already know what to do?”

How Lincoln’s still embarrassed, Michael has no idea. He’s seen his brother do some seriously mortifying things (usually when he was high) with a face of stone, but now, his brother’s face is lobster red. He even puts the condensing bottle in his hand against his head.

Michael’s certain that aliens are landing on roof upstairs. Surreal.

“My hearing has to be going ‘cause I swear you just asked me how to give a blowjob.”

“I did.” The look Lincoln gives him, finally tearing his eyes away from his hands, clears up any questions Michael has of his brother’s intentions.

Lincoln’s eyes are dark and huge, the way they are when he’s just gotten paid or is about to get laid. Though Michael’s never seen that look directed at him. This is new and disturbing because Michael really wants it, isn’t nearly as bothered as he should be to get the ‘come hither’ from his brother.

“I’m serious, Mike. Teach me.” Lincoln doesn’t seem as bothered as he should be either.

Is it possible to lose your mind twice? Michael ponders this even as his dick reminds him how uncomfortable he is. It’s a quick look, down to Lincoln’s crotch and back up to his face, but the older man catches him like he had his hand in a cookie jar.

The hard line of Lincoln’s cock is obvious in his whitewashed jeans.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Michael doesn’t know how his mouth is still capable of moving. His whole body is tingling like it’s woken from numbness.

There are long pauses between their responses now, measured looks that are filling up the room with their intensity.

Michael wonders if he’s asleep somehow, passed out on the couch still in his shoes and suit. It’s the only logical explanation to this mirage he’s found himself in.

Then, Lincoln leans over the few feet between the couch and chair that separate them and kisses him. Michael gasps on the approach and has his mouth wide open at the first contact. His brother’s lips are a little chapped but still soft, the brief touch surprisingly gentle, as if Lincoln’s just as uncertain as Michael is.

But it’s comfortable too, like they’ve done this before, and even though his heart is pounding, his mind feels like it’s sighing in long awaited relief.

Michael’s wanted this, the taste of Lincoln – hops and discarded spearmint chewing gum -, since he was old enough to really notice his brother. Lincoln’s long absences had made Michael all the more fond of the older boy whenever he came back and the change from fond to infatuation was gradual but all consuming.

For the longest time, Michael blamed the whole thing on some innate wrongness down deep in him. Used his intelligence to cover up the one thing his logic could never explain. But now, with Lincoln’s breath on his face and the smell of the dock surrounding him, a scent Lincoln hasn’t been able to wash off for the years he’s been working there, it feels like Michael’s dirtiest of secrets have been revealed into the light and polished up like a shiny new toy.

Although the kiss lasts barely a second, Michael’s breathing hard when Lincoln pulls back.

“Are you high?” Michael has to ask, ruined moment be damned.

Lincoln rolls his eyes and kisses him quick once more, as if to forgive him.

“Teach me how to suck you.” His smooth voice slips down Michael’s spine like an ice cube.

He’s sure he’s going to come when his brother, brawny and until tonight the straightest man he’s ever known, slips off the couch and onto his knees in front of him.

They both might be a little drunk, well Michael might be, but he knows his brother possibly as much as anyone can know Lincoln; if Linc is serious, dead, smack-your-mouth-if-you-tell-a-lie serious, then it doesn’t matter how ridiculous the idea sounds, he’s going to go through with it.

Now, Michael can’t breathe at all.

Lincoln’s seemed as calm as the river outside since he’s kissed him, but as he looks up from the floor Michael can finally see the nervousness in his eyes, in the small tremble of his hands on Michael’s thighs. It’s enough for Michael to take a calming gulp of air.

He touches his brother’s stubbly face, holds the green gaze that matches his own. “We can stop now and this never happened, Linc.”

Lincoln’s eyes narrow and Michael barely holds back a sigh. Should have known that Lincoln would take it as a challenge rather than the out Michael was offering.

“I know you’re hard, Michael. Just take out your fucking cock,” Lincoln demands.

Michael’s mouth is open to snark at how ‘sexy’ Lincoln’s order is but then finds that, fuck, it really is hot. Dark and dripping with sex, and Michael’s suddenly feeling as nervous as a virgin.

Lincoln’s hands are wandering up his thighs and Michael shudders before yanking his brother back up to his mouth. He holds his head in his hands, this time controlling the kiss, and tasting Lincoln so deep that the older man lets out a startled moan.

Michael can feel Lincoln’s hard body, so hot, pressed between his thighs and allows his inquisitive hands to wander down his brother’s thick neck and broad shoulders. He skims his fingers over the wifebeater, not what he wants, and with a burst of movement shoves the offending material up to Lincoln’s collarbone.

His brother’s sucking in a noisy lungful of air through his nose so their lips don’t have to part but Michael wants to taste more, taste everything he can get his mouth on. The slightly whining moan he gets when he pulls away only validates how much they both want this and Michael marvels that he thought Lincoln was the oblivious one.

Lincoln’s practically lying in his lap, halfway between kneeling and standing, the perfect height for Michael to slouch down in the chair and latch onto a perfect brown nipple.

Their hips knock and slot together like perfect puzzle pieces.

Lincoln jerks like he’s been electrocuted. “Fuck, Michael.”

Michael moans around the flesh in his mouth, nips a bit in retaliation because he’s going to come just from his brother’s voice and the hard press of his body.

There’s a rapid shift again, Lincoln steadying his stance and wrenching back, dragging Michael back up into the chair by his shirt. Then the hand on Michael’s chest is pushing, holds him down, as Lincoln sinks back to his knees.

Somehow Lincoln gets his belt and pants open, Michael’s too dizzy from the rush to notice the semantics, and cool air rushes over the hot skin of his belly and pelvis when his brother yanks his briefs down with his slacks.

Michael’s cock is overjoyed to be free and bobs against his stomach with every panting breath. He’s a mess, leaking pre-come over the tails of his dress shirt. Even more so when Michael sees the determined look on Lincoln’s face, the absolute focus.

“Tell me,” Lincoln’s voice sears through him. “Tell me what you like.”

Michael has to lick his dry lips to speak and even then it’s barely a whisper. “Just do what you like done.”

After that he can’t speak anymore. Michael’s lost in hot, wet licks that tease as Lincoln figures it out. He can’t watch the process, the experimentation, has to turn his sweaty cheek into the cushion and focus on not coming while Lincoln kitten licks the head of his cock and squeezes him, just right, in his fist.

There’s a long blazing lick right up the sensitive vein under his cock and Michael shouts as he nearly, almost, blacks out.

“So you like that too, huh.” There’s a hint of teasing in his dark tone and Michael just wants to scream. Yank Lincoln’s certainly grinning mouth onto his cock and thrust into that perfect heat until he’s boneless.

Lincoln must notice because there’s a heavy hand on his chin, directing Michael to look at him, and then the sweetest filth is spilling from his brother’s lips.

“So fucking hot like this, Michael, should have done it sooner. Can’t wait to fuck you. Watch, tell me if I’m doing this right.”

And there’s barely a pause before Lincoln’s sinking down on his cock, going until Michael can hear, feel him gag a bit before sucking back up sloppily. Michael’s groaning and panting like a trained whore, so enthralled that for just a moment the sight overweighs the feeling, just for a second.

Then the world catches back up and Lincoln’s using his elbows to hold him down, really not a rookie move, but Michael’s too busy trying not to choke his brother to ask where Linc learned that.

Michael’s orgasm is sitting heavy on his chest, in his balls, suffocating him until he feels Lincoln’s thick fingers on his open mouth and one salty digit slips across his tongue and there’s white noise in his ears as he seizes like his life is ending.

He’s still trying to catch his breath and blink the stars out of his eyes, when Lincoln comes up from his knees. He’s kissing and licking his way up Michael’s body, parting his legs like he’s not done with him yet, and Lincoln’s cock is hard against his thigh.

His own twitches in response even though seconds ago Michael thought he would never move again.

He knows that in the morning he might regret every second of this night but his brother’s tongue is in his mouth, tasting like him, and Michael’s prepared to lose his mind for a little while longer.

Maybe Lincoln can teach him how to find it.