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Sitting on the patio at lunch with all of their friends dripping in the Santa Fe sun, it occurs to Dave how absurd it is that the iconography of a Winter Christmas is so prevalent in places like this. That he should have to look at his brother donning a red and white santa hat in the middle of summer. The fluffy edge of the hat is visibly dampening around his brother’s sweaty head. To top it off, Steph is wearing a Hawaiian shirt printed with surfing santas which he insisted on buying from a dollar store. Except Steph wears the shirt unbuttoned revealing the light grey hair on his chest and the Santa hat is forgotten and all Dave can do is entertain filthy thoughts.
He lets his thoughts roam to when they were last able to be together. It was in Amsterdam. Has been a few months since then and yet the experience is still vivid in his mind. Of course right now he is amongst friends. Friends who do not suspect a thing about them and so in an attempt to appear normal, he clears his throat and repositions his chair so that it appears like he’s trying to gain a better view of the beautiful Argentinian water, then slides his sunglasses on and levels his gaze at his brother.
Their friends are making plans to go on a night cruise down Paraná River. Afterwards, they move on to talk about their relationships, a conversation Dave freely tunes out of, listening to only selectively. He knows Nancy Whang has been having a hard time. Too heavy to think about. Everyone's moods brighten when James Righton regales how he met Kiera Knightley. Other friends talk about their sex life and Dave sinks completely into his internal world where it's just him and his brother.
"Dave." Righton prods him in the knee.
Dave props his sunglasses on his forehead and looks around, bewildered. "Hm?"
"He always goes quiet when we talk about girls," Tyler Pope says.
Dave doesn't say anything. He's not sure what he's meant to say. He does say thank you to the wait staff who delivers him a new mocktail.
"David," Kiera says, her voice commanding over their ten tabled friends in the way that a gorgeous movie star can capture a crowd of people’s attention. "You and Stephen have toured internationally…
“More places than LCD and Klaxons put together,” Righton says.
Kiera nods. “You must have some crazy stories of misadventure."
"Oh," Dave smiles, bemused. "Misadventure, sure...." He shares a look with his brother which is equally suggestive to him as it is to their friends, but for different reasons.
“Sexually, she means,” Righton says, and at this point, the rest of the people at the table have faded away into irrelevancy. “With girls and stuff.”
"How people like you spend your time in the bedroom always makes me so curious.” A wry smile lingers over Kiera’s lips. A sparkle in her eye as if to endear his honesty.
Dave raises an eyebrow and slurps from his straw. Kiera strikes him as a very conservative, well educated rich woman so for her to be asking him something so personal interests him. Either she is more open than he gave her credit for or she's high like the rest of them.
"He is so quiet about these things," Righton comments, lifting them out of the quiet pause. "Steph's an open book but Dave? Makes me wonder what proclivities he's hiding."
Dave lifts his eyebrows again. He slurps from his straw then sets the glass on the table with a resonate clank. "Well okay," he starts off, knowing Righton and Kiera’s ball is now in his court. "Every few months, one way or another, you know, our team sends me through a flagged email or worse, I’ll find a note on my windscreen wipers…" He pauses. Looks at his brother for a moment then flicks his gaze back at Kiera. "From London girls. New York, Berlin."
"Amsterdam," Stephen offers.
"Yes of course, lots from Amsterdam. And you know, they claim, 'oh Dave, I am pregnant, I demand financial compensation for this'." Their friends nod sagely or laugh, exemplifying their experience in the matter. "And I reply and I say, you know, 'it wasn't me. It's not me. You've got the wrong brother'."
"Shift the blame" Righton says, winking at Stephen.
"Well yes," Dave says. "More likely they have gotten us confused. But no, no it's impossible. I say this, 'it's impossible'. Because I don't do it."
A pause. Tyler asks, "You don't sleep with them?"
"No," Dave replies. He’s grinning but he makes sure to sound sincere. Everyone is still hanging onto his every word. "I don't. I don't sleep with anyone. Never."
Finding it hard to believe, Righton asks, "Not even in your early days?"
Dave pretends to think about this hard, then says, "Ah.... No, no, really. I’m just not interested.”
Tyler sits back, gobsmacked. "Woah. I never knew that."
“And it's safer. For us, professionally,” Dave adds, reaching for his mocktail again.
“Oh,” Kiera says. “Oh so it’s a professional choice. Outside of work you… you have a sex life?”
Dave shakes his head from side to side then takes a sip of his drink.
"So you never... You've never done anything wild?" Righton questions him.
Dave shakes his head again. He purses his lips in a cheeky smile, trying to conceal his enjoyment of the scene.
"We found out a word for it," Steph explains. "David is an asexual."
"Asexual..." Murphy repeats.
Dave looks at his friend. It's the first thing James Murphy has said for quite some time and yet he is not the one being questioned about his sexual prowess. Maybe because he looks like shit and has been the whole trip. Looks worse than when he's on tour sharing beds with band members and vans up to their ears with gear. He’s meant to be resting and yet he has dark eye bags, greasy hair, yellow, plaid skin as if he’s a heavy chain smoker. He doesn’t look well at all but he hasn’t seemed to want to talk about it which has resulted in many of their friends not talking to him at all.
"Asexual. What does that mean?" Tiga asks, his own reintroduction to a member of the friendship circle at the table only new because he had been on the phone with his wife until now.
Dave drops his sunglasses over his eyes again. Weighs his gaze on his brother who responds for him.
"So it means someone who does not feel sexual attraction for anyone."
"Wait, so it's not just abstinence,” Tiga says, “You flat out don't want to have sex?"
Dave slurps. Drains his glass. Thinks about what he did to Stephen last summer in the northern hemisphere.
"Keeps us out of trouble," Steph says, sheepish. A grin. “Or, one half of us anyway.”
This earns a laugh from most.
"You definitely get up to some inappropriate shit,” Tiga grins back.
Steph folds one leg over his knee. "Oh yes, I'm the one taking those pregnancy scare letters seriously."
Another earned laugh around the table, even Dave laughs, but Murphy stares out at the ocean. Quickly bored by the apparent absence of sex in David’s life, their troupe carries on with conversation in other topics. Silently Dave appreciates Stephen helping him with that scene. It’s a lie they had to come up with pretty soon after they started doing what they do. A flirtatious lifestyle for Steph makes sense because he’s like that with people. He’s warm and friendly and easy to like. Whereas Dave comes off as cold sometimes even when he doesn’t mean to be, but it’s probably because he calls people out on their bullshit. Sees the industry for what it is. Doesn’t want to participate in the parts of it that disgust him and people take that a certain way. Respect him more because he’s just in it for the music but respect him less when he says he isn’t interested in sex. As if he’s dumb or broken somehow. But the people close to him think it makes sense, which is good, the lie holds. The people even closer to him like Stephen, or, only Stephen, know that it’s what needs to be said because the truth is worse. The truth is what nobody wants to hear.
After a few hours, wait staff clear the table and they get the hint that they need to head back to the villa. He trails at the tail end of the group with his hands in his pockets. His sandals crunch the fine pebbles on the path that winds through the city to the villa nestled in a private lush garden. He can't remember whose villa it is. One friend's cousin's boyfriend, some bizarre connection that has landed all ten friends in Santa Fe, Argentina, for Christmas.
A handful of their group want to take LSD and doze the afternoon away. Others want to take that trip into the town again until the sun sets and the night clubs vacuum their bodies inside. David, Stephen and Murphy hang back, opting out of the drug experience and preferring to hang out around the pool.
Dave sinks himself into the pristine water, the heat roiling off his skin in immense relief. He’d forgotten to apply sunscreen the day before and is paying for it now.
He swims a few laps. He was a good swimmer in his youth. His family didn’t have a pool so he would practice at the community pool. Got a few ear infections which didn’t used to bother him until he wanted to get serious with music and needed to put his hearing before swimming. Still enjoys swimming on occasion. Likes visiting the local pool in Ghent when he and Steph are able to go back home. Also likes to show off to his older brother.
He feels Stephen’s eyes on him as he lifts himself out of the water and sits on the tiled edge, water dripping down his back.
Murphy and Steph are lounging on the deck chairs in the shade. While Dave was swimming, he could hear Steph trying to get Murphy to talk for a little bit but Murphy was still so clearly caught in his own headspace that he was only able to make feeble responses. By the time Dave has emerged from the water, Murphy has already nodded off. A slight snore emanates from his chest leaving Steph awake and aware.
Dave stretches his arms forward, rippling the light muscles in his back and then relaxes. He glances quickly at the villa, his eyes dancing over the many windows to see if they have any onlookers. Assured that they have no observers, he lifts one leg out of the water and turns his body to Steph. Water drips off his thigh and swim shorts and pools over the dark tiles.
“You're still wearing that stupid santa hat and shirt,” Dave says in Dutch.
Stephen lifts his head, eyes sparkling under the afternoon sun. In the presence of friends, they usually speak English or French. With Murphy present, albeit asleep, French would be safe enough so speaking Dutch is indicative of something to Steph. A sign of Dave wanting to get up to something.
Cutting to the chase, Steph says, “You really want to -- here?”
They'd promised not to get up to anything this holiday given that they were going to be around so many of their friends, one of them being right there next to Steph, dozing in the sun. Having separate rooms has helped them. But the long, langerous days have made Dave horny. He keeps thinking about all the ways he could have Stephen. Got so close to sneaking into Stephen’s room one night and fucking him into the four poster bed.
“I’ve been thinking about you like crazy,” Dave admits, still in Dutch.
David’s eyes linger over Steph’s crotch, then glances at the villa again, looking at each iron laced balcony before returning to Steph.
He says, “Want to check out the pool house?”
Before waiting for Steph’s answer, Dave gets to his feet and pads over to the pool house. Two glass doors in wood paneled walls present asymmetrical to the facade of the pool house that faces the pool. When Dave tries one handle, he feels Steph beside him. Cautious, still, lingering, but showing up for trouble nevertheless. Dave tries the second handle. Both locked.
“Okay,” David says, not yet resigned. “Garden walk?”
He looks at his brother. Feels the tangible space between them. The heat, the tension. The desire. There’s a pink flush on Stephen’s cheeks and it’s not just from a sunburn. He nods in response to David’s question and leads the way around the side of the pool house. A vine covered archway leads to a mowed grassy area shaded by the pool house and the 2m tall hedges that line the perimeter of the property. Flowering frangipani trees bridge the gaps between the pool house, archway and hedge, and as gnarled as they are, they provide the perfect cover for David to slam Steph against the brick wall.
The first thing he does is swipe off Steph’s santa hat and tosses it into the slightly damp ground. Then, without hesitation, he makes out with his brother hungrily. They’ve been really good but it’s Christmas and David tastes what he’s been missing, what he’s been longing for for months and confirms to him that he can’t stop now. Has to take what he can get.
David gropes Steph’s bum and pushes down his trunks as they kiss, his tongue pressing into Steph’s mouth. He presses his body against Steph’s, lets Steph feel how hard he already is and feels it back, his brother equally thrilled by their scandalous reunion. A sprinkler nearby hisses a spray of water over the manicured lawn. As David sinks his knees into the slightly muddy ground, he brings Steph’s swim trunks to his ankles and unleashes his brother’s beautiful cock. He looks up, his brother framed by surfing santas and it makes him laugh inwardly, makes him love this man for the choices he makes, for the choices they make together.
He takes Steph’s cock in his mouth, lathering hot saliva all around his brother’s length as he slides the length over his tongue and into the back of his throat. A low moan rumbles in Steph’s throat, elongates when David presses a finger into Steph’s arsehole. Lodges it there to help him gain purchase on Steph’s dick. He fucking loves his brother’s dick. Loves the width of it, the girth. How the head hits the back of his throat. How he can feel the veins bulging with his tongue. He could suck on it all day.
A cyclist zips by on the pathway on the opposite side of the hedge, reminding them that they aren’t exactly in a remote location. They’re practically in the middle of the city. Onlookers aren’t just from the villa away from sight from where they are. Anyone who decides to stop and smoke on the other side of the hedge might hear something. Might pull apart some leaves of the hedge and have a peek.
It humbles them. Makes Steph try not to moan too loud. Just elicits small little whimpers that fuel Dave on as he takes all of Steph in. Hollows his mouth so that the inner sides of his mouth run along the sides of his brother’s cock and shows him just how ravenous David is. They’ve been doing things like this for so long, they don’t have to talk. They know what they like, know what they want. David starts thrusting his finger deep into his brother’s arsehole, a movement that is somewhat in time with him running his lips up and down his brother’s cock. And Steph’s fingers are scraping through David’s sweat-dampened hair, and he knows that Steph is close. Can feel the way Steph is breathing heavily with his whole chest, his abdomen twitching, his thumbs rubbing circles into David’s scalp.
To steady himself, Steph clutches onto a frangipani branch overhead and as he comes into David’s mouth, white petals waft down and it’s about the closest they’ll get to seeing snow at Christmas this year. Steph’s hot cum hits the back of Dave’s throat. Tears spring to his eyes as he eats the come. Sucks his brother dry. Wraps a hand around his brother’s dick and coaxes the last few drips of come into his open, eager mouth. He laps it up, kisses the tip of his brother’s cock and sucks it, just to make sure he got it all. Then licks his lips and waits a few seconds for his brother to recover.
As he stands up, legs shaking, he feels a dampness on his knees where he’d been slowly sinking into the mud. He staggers back one step, breathing heavily, taking in the sight of his drained brother. Then puts one hand on Steph’s shoulder and flips him around. He thinks he sees a weird look on his brother’s face but he ignores it. Presses his front against Steph’s back and lets him feel his hard-on, but for some reason Steph is leaning over and trying to pull up his trunks again.
Dave looks over his shoulder and sees Murphy standing under the archway, looking at them with his eyes half-lidded.
Dread fills him, deflating his erection. He leaps away from Steph and starts pulling up his own swim trunks. In his peripheral vision, he can see Murphy still observing them. There’s no question as to whether or not Murphy saw them. He absolutely did. That solid, gobsmacked stare as the look of a person who just saw hell.
Panic mode kicks in when Murphy turns around and leaves. With the taste of Steph still in his mouth, he turns to his brother and locks eyes with him. Holds his brother’s very afraid, very dark eyes and tells him that he’ll fix it. He then leaves Stephen to recover while he goes to smooth things over with Murphy.
He crosses the pool area with long strides. His brain already spinning a new lie to tell. That they’d both taken drugs and that he didn’t even realise it was his own brother until another real person came into his vision.
The sunroom downstairs is devoid of humans. Silk curtains waft inside, carried by a gentle breeze and illuminated by the warm setting sun. He has a horrible thought of Murphy having gone upstairs to tell everyone what he’d just seen and is about to dash upstairs when he hears a clatter coming from the kitchen.
The kitchen is equally devoid of people. He holds his breath, listening for that noise. The door to the scullery sits ajar, a cold, bitter draft cuts through from it. David steps quietly toward the door and nudges it open with his foot, keeping it on his toe to prevent it from slamming on the hinges. He pops his head into the darkness and makes out the familiar shape of James Murphy hunched over the sink. Around him, piles of dishes from their earlier demands from the housekeeper are mountainous and unclean. There are perhaps more dishes than there are ideas for meals, and the cleaning has run amok in rooms the guests aren’t meant to see.
David stays by the door. A weird, metal smell cuts over the remnant food smell. He thinks about how he’s going to explain it. If the lie will stick, and how it won’t, really, because he’d told them all he was asexual and why would Murphy believe anything he says now? Lie after lie. Then David watches with abject horror as Murphy plucks a dirty knife from the pile of dirty dishes and turn around. The dim light in the room glints off the dirty knife.
“Hey, woah!” David stammers, shocked at the sudden violence.
But then it’s worse. It’s worse because David thinks he probably deserves to feel pain, but instead Murphy turns the blade on his own thigh. Cuts a deep gash. Blood starts streaming down his leg and David rushes up to him, tries to wrestle the knife from him. Murphy doesn’t put up much of a fight. Lets David toss it into the sink. The blade clatters. Metal against metal. Then Murphy is sobbing.
“James,” David breathes hoarsely. “What are you doing?”
Murphy sobs. David doesn’t know why he asked that, not when Murphy grasps his thigh and drives his fingers into the cut, pushing out more blood.
David snatches Murphy’s hand away again, taking both of Murphy’s wrists and restraining him. Murphy struggles this time, breaks free easily and turns around. Tries to find the knife again. David wraps his arms around Murphy’s waist, tears springing to his eyes and he tries his best to pull his friend away from the sink entirely. Feels like he's wrangling an animal but the beast is confused and in pain and he is compelled to let go.
Lets go because he thinks part of this, all of this, is his fault.
"I just…” Murphy says in a strained voice. His body seems to give up, sagging against David for the support he had once been forcibly given. “I… want to feel something."
Thoughts flying, sentences forming and unforming, crumbling before he can get the brain signals to work. His hold slips away from Murphy as he takes a staggering step backward. Clings onto the countertop to tether himself to this world.
Eventually, he says, "You... What you saw..."
Murphy is pressing his forehead against the edge of the sink, flesh against dull metal, but cold and probably painless.
"I want to feel something else..." Murphy sobs, his voice first filling the sink then overflowing, spilling onto the floor. "Something other than this."
David looks at his friend's t-shirt clad back. He has to say it and say it right. Has to say it. Has to say it. A mantra caught in a loop. "What you saw is not what you think. I didn't even realise it was Stephen I--"
"I wish I felt nothing," Murphy says over him, or not over but under. Compressed by Murphy hunching over the deep sink, his body caving around the other half of the cave. A vast void in the middle. Then, Murphy's legs give way and he slides down the front of the cupboards set underneath the sink and counter. Turns and leans his head on the tea towel tucked into a cupboard door.
David is left standing. Staring.
Murphy's eyes seem to fix on a point just to the right of David's person. He looks past Dave as if there's another person there, an audience listening to Murphy's rambling but it's just David.
"I can't do this anymore. The constant touring. Countless nights in cities I don't remember. Same stage dressed up every night. New bed, new room, new hotel, a rotation of friends in the same bed. The shit food. The driving. I could go on. I just…" Murphy trails off and Dave thinks it's the most he's heard his friend say all summer. "I can't do it. I miss home so much. The lifestyle… it fucks up your whole life. But it's the only way to do this, isn't it? Being a musician. I can't... I don't want to feel this way anymore."
It breaks David's heart seeing his friend like this. Saves him, slightly, because the pain his friend is feeling doesn't seem to have been brought on by him and Steph.
He offers a weak encouragement. Something they always say to each other in this business. "You can get through it."
"I can't, I fucking tried. I'm not like you."
Murphy sounds so resigned. David moves his stiff body and sits next to Murphy, puts a little space between them but not enough to seem far away. Murphy is still looking at that fixed point in space.
After a little while, Murphy says, "At least you have Steph. A piece of your family with you all the time."
David deflects pointing out that band members are like family too.
"But not really. Not like you guys. I'm envious of what you have."
Murphy regards David. Holds his gaze until David flickers away. He grabs a napkin and drapes it over Murphy's bleeding thigh as if to veil the face of the dead.
Murphy lets out another wretched sob. "I feel like I'm breaking apart. I don't think I realised it until recently but I've felt like this for years. This... This constant breaking and there's no end to it."
Murphy lets the sobs roll out of him and it makes David cry too. He pulls Murphy's head to his chest and lets the man cry on him. Several minutes pass. The noise of David's muffled tears and Murphy's despair spiralling into the dark corners of the scullery.
When the tears have run out of steam, Murphy lets out a huge sigh and tests his head back on the tea towel tucked in the cupboard. He looks down at the blood soaked napkin. "Jesus. I'm so sorry you had to see me this way, Dave."
"No, no," Dave replies, violently aware that Murphy hasn't talked about what he saw yet. Not specifically. "You're my friend."
Murphy wipes the back of his hand over his face. Tilts his head to one side to peer at the items scattered over the counter. He sits up quickly and grabs a bottle of wine that still has a glass or two of wine left in it. He drinks from the bottle. David watches his Adams apple bobble. Declines when the bottle is offered to him.
Murphy puts the bottle on the ground and clings to the neck. "I won't tell anyone about uh... About you guys if you don't tell anyone about me."
Dave knew it was coming but still he can't help but feel shame. Final confirmation that Murphy had been mentally present enough to digest what he had seen.
"It was a mistake," David says, "And you need help, James. Like professional help to get through this."
Murphy rolls the wine bottle around on the old tiles, the rim of the empty bottle making a hollow, glassy sound.
"It's probably some European custom I don't understand," Murphy says. "That's what I'll tell myself."
David can tell Murphy isn't going to let it go that easy. "You don't want what we have, James. Being on tour with your brother, with your family member, your wife. It's... We are too much of the same person. Even apart, we come back together again and find out we've done the same thing. Bought the same records. Eaten the same food. We spend so much time together that there's barely any distinction between us."
"So would you say sucking Steph off is like masturbating?"
David blinks then laughs, always caught off by how funny Murphy is, how funny he can be even through all the dark times. "In a way, yes. We like the same things, the same way."
"That's what I want though." He tentatively lifts the napkin and inspects the damage. Distasteful of the show, he throws the napkin back on. "I want someone with me all the time who knows me. Who I can rely on. Tell anything and they'll listen and be there for me."
"You mean a touring manager?"
"Not the same. Someone who knows me and knows everything I've been through. I just... I don't think I can do waking up in a different place with different people every day. I have to stop it. I have to end LCD soundsystem while I'm ahead. People tell me I'm at the prime of my career but like, nobody told me it would be like this and I fucking hate it."
Dave thinks about this. "You're really good at this, James. It would be a shame for you to stop making music. What if you found a new way to work in the industry?"
Murphy looks at him. "Like what?"
"My team says streaming is going to be the new way. Pandora, Spotify. These things, streaming whatever it is, is going to be the new platform for music. The new way to get to listeners. It's all going to be online. Maybe you don't need to tour anymore. You can just do videos from home."
"But they'll always be asking, you know? I'm lucky because I run my own label so I don't have anyone telling me directly what I need to do but there's the social pressure to tour and if I'm releasing tracks here and there everyone's still going to ask me. 'When are you touring?' 'Play in my city', you know. I can't deal with that. Like, disappointing them or whatever."
"Fans are also still going to listen and buy your music."
"I think, yeah, they will but I don't want the pressure you know? I'm thinking of announcing we're officially breaking up. As a band. Then all of that, you know, pressure to be doing anything really will be gone. I can work on my own projects again."
Presently the housekeeper steps in and yelps. She recovers quickly. "Oh it's just wine, isn't it?"
"No it's blood," Murphy says nonchalantly, turning the napkin over and revealing his wound.
She yelps again, not as loud as initially but enough to crack her voice when she tells them she will call the doctor.
"No I'm fine,” Murphy says hastily. “It's just a small gash."
"Okay, but I'm fetching my first aid kit."
When she disappears, Murphy stands up, easing his weight on the unwounded leg. He pauses. A terrible silence passes. David feels that the housekeeper is going to return any second.
"Thanks for listening, man,” Murphy says, his back still facing David. “I appreciate it."
"N-no problem," David says from the floor, unable to stand up yet as if he were the one to be physically wounded.
Murphy takes a couple more steps toward the door. He leans against the door jam and looks over his shoulder at David. "I really won't tell anyone," Murphy says. "I don't even care really. I mean it's, I didn't expect it, sure, but you're still my friends, you and Steph. So… Whatever you guys get up to in the bedroom is not a deal-breaker for me. I just, like, want to not want to die all the time. And that’s nothing to do with you.” On his way out, David hears Murphy say, “Oh hey Steph.”
Hearing Steph’s name ignites David’s engines and propels him forward. He clings onto a shelf near the door, his chest heaving, his heart in his throat. He can see Murphy’s feet disappearing up the stairs. Steph is lingering in the kitchen, a worried look on his face.
Dave forces a smile. “See, it’s going to be fine,” he says to his brother.
And it is fine, kind of. For the most part. Dave and Steph play their normal roles. Time passes in the weird way that it does in between Christmas and New Year’s. Time oozing away in long, hot days. Murphy seems… better, if anything. Colour has returned to his cheeks. He showers, even. Everyone notices that. But he’s still not keen on going out with everyone.
On the night before New Year’s Eve, their troupe hit the town, all except Murphy, Stephen and David. The truth is, David doesn’t want to leave his room. He’s been able to maintain a normal facade but inside, he’s sick to his stomach. Murphy is pretending like it never happened, which is good, but he and Steph haven’t talked it out properly and he has a terrible feeling that Murphy discovering them might have signaled an end to it all. That fear only dissolves when he’s lying sleepless in bed and hears his bedroom door swing open.
He pulls the blankets up to his chin and peers at the shape in the doorway. His eyes are still adjusting to the dark after failing to concentrate on a book after the others left. It has only been an hour or so since the others went to the club so surely one of them hasn’t gotten drunk enough to accidentally stumble into the wrong room in such a short amount of time. Part of him hopes it’s Steph, but as the shape descends through the room he recognises the figure to belong to Murphy.
Murphy approaches David’s bed and sits on the edge of it. Then, to David’s complete surprise, Stephen emerges from behind Murphy’s shadow and rounds the bed, sits on the opposite side, the two men his guardian angels.
While David is watching his brother sit down on the bed, Murphy sneakily leans toward him and takes hold of his chin, pulling David in for a kiss. David’s eyes go wide. Entertains the soft, tender kiss for a few moments until Murphy pulls back.
David gapes at Murphy, then at his brother. In Dutch he questions, “Did you make him do this?”
Stephen replies defensively, also in Dutch, “No, he came into my room and took me here. Didn’t say a word.”
“What are you guys saying?” Murphy asks in a raspy voice.
David reaches over to his bedside table and flicks on the small lamp. Yellow light glows around the globe and helps to paint the picture before him. The three of them are in gradients of clothing. Murphy in a grey T-shirt and shorts. Steph in just a long shirt. And David, well, he doesn’t wear clothes to bed. Especially not in summer heat like this. Aware that sitting up would have exposed some of his arse, he pulls the blanket up under his armpits and holds his wrists against his chest.
“Steph,” Murphy says, gesturing for Steph to come closer to him.
Steph glances at David, then does as he’s told. David watches them kiss over his legs. Steph places a hand on David’s upper thigh and David covers the hand with his right, threading his fingers in between Steph’s as he watches his two best friends make out. It seems kind of surreal. He wonders if he’s dreaming, but Steph’s body never feels quite right in his dreams. His dreams miscalculate Steph’s warmth, omit details on his brother’s hands, the wrinkles and warts and fine hair. Just holding Steph’s hand like this makes him realise it’s real. That Murphy really did just come into his room after midnight and brought his brother with him. And they’re up to no good.
Steph moves his hand to David’s groin, cups his blanketed cock with his warm, delicate hands. Slightly massages it while he deepens the kiss with Murphy. Abandoning modesty, David lets the blanket fall about his waist and he stretches his left hand over to Murphy’s thigh. Feels the thick hair over his legs and gently touches the inside of his thigh. In between the leg hair he can feel raised scars in Murphy’s skin. Old wounds that he’d kept hidden before. Never mentioned. His thigh twitching under David exploring his secrets and Steph’s tongue down his throat.
David can see the hem of Stephs shirt rise as his boner kicks in. He wonders how Murphy is fairing and tip toes his fingers up the inner side of Murphy’s thigh to test the waters. But before he can touch the sensitive area, Murphy inches away. He breaks off the kiss with Steph and sits back, panting.
Stephen, embroiled in the heat of the kiss, turns to David and their lips collide. Dave lets Steph climb up the bed next to him, kissing harder, lips a familiar flavour laced with a new spice. A thought flits around in the back of David’s head - that Murphy is watching. That he watched before. Who knows how long he was standing there under the vine covered archway while David was on his knees draining the spunk out of his brother. The thought simmers, braises over his brain while he kisses Steph. Feels his cock hardening under his brother’s grasp, under his brother’s weight and warmth and love. Confirmation that it’s not all over yet. That Steph still wants him, can’t resist him.
Between kisses, Steph says his name in a low voice. “Dave. We didn’t get to finish…”
Dave raises his eyebrows at the words spoken in english. He feels like he’s deflating into the mattress, gravity pulling him through to the ground. Vulnerability makes him speak in Dutch. “I thought it was over.”
Steph covers up a laugh by kissing Dave tenderly. “No, no” he says soothingly, still in English. “Never, baby. Do you think I can give you up?”
Then Steph flips the blanket away from David’s body and starts stroking his cock. David lets out a raspy moan which is cut short when he remembers Murphy’s presence. While Steph moves to kissing David’s neck, he throws out a question to Murphy, “You okay there James?”
Murphy clears his throat. A dark figure at the corner of his bed. “I’m good here. You guys go on.”
“Okay,” David replies. Okay. He finds Steph’s head, drives his fingers through his brother’s hair and while he feels each thread of hair ruffle past his fingers, he asks his brother, “Is this okay with you? Him watching?”
“Mmhm,” Steph responds, sucking on David’s neck.
It’s all he needs to know to relax. He throws his head back on the pillow and his eyes roll back in his head. Resigns to the fever, to the passion. Fireworks burst in the large windows, illuminating the room in flickers of purple, red and white. Cast eerie colours over their onlooker, a face painted in lust.
Steph is rolling his hips into David’s side, pumping his dick and David needs wetness. Meets relief when Steph moves his kissing down David’s throat, worries his collarbone with his lips and teeths one of David’s nipples. Runs a tongue down Dave’s middle and strategically licks around his cock, diverting to wrap his lips around Dave’s balls. David doesn’t expect it. He grips the swept aside bedsheets in his hands, straining not to buck into his brother’s mouth and trying to show Murphy how good he is. How he’s in control. But then Steph licks his arsehole and the feeling of Steph’s warm tongue thrusting in his hole sends a jolt down his spine that makes a spasmed moan jet out of his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Dave curses. He widens his legs, hooking his right leg around Steph as he settles in between his legs. Feels like a slut as his brother lifts his hips and laps around his arsehole.
“Fuck yeah,” Murphy murmurs appreciatively.
Dave can’t see Murphy’s face until fireworks burst outside their window again. And it’s when Steph’s thrusting his tongue in Dave’s hole that there’s enough momentary light for Dave to see Murphy touching himself. A hand in his shorts and the other gripping onto the neckhole of his shirt.
“Steph, Steph,” Dave says quickly, using all of his energy to tap on his brother’s shoulder and finish his request. “Put my dick in your mouth.”
Steph grunts in response but mostly ignores him. Keeps thrusting his tongue into Dave, the thick muscle lathering saliva into Dave’s hole.
Dave groans at the feeling. Wraps his fingers around his dick and strokes it slowly, his whole body tingling. Steph is working his magic on him and he wants what’s next but he also doesn’t, not in front of Murphy. “Steph, please,” Dave begs. “Please, I.. I don’t--”
Steph cuts him off, flicking his tongue away from Dave. He looks over his shoulder at Murphy. “What should I do?”
David can’t hear the answer. Too far away, not close enough. Doesn’t matter what small conversation he misses because the next second, Steph is returning to him. He nudges down the bed and lays his front on the mattress space in between Dave’s legs. Then he’s licking his lips with one swirl and the second rotation spirals around the tip of David’s dick. The heat of Steph’s throat ensconcing David’s length in glorious fever, amplified by two of Steph’s fingers pressing into his hole. Blinds him. Fills him. Sharp thrusting into his hole and hot slickness around his cock.
The time it takes for Steph to suck on him feels like all of the time that has passed since Christmas. Timelessness. An eternity but not long enough. David wants it to go on forever. Wants Steph on him, in him. Rakes his nails over Steph’s shoulders, over the freckles and fine hair and bucks slightly. Feels the head of his cock hitting the back of his brother’s throat.
Steph reels back, gagging.
“Sorry.” Dave sits up and pulls Steph back to him.
Fireworks silently crack in the distance, bursting brilliant white light into their room. A dart of a memory pierces Dave’s mind. A past wicked thunderstorm. Humid night. They were together, younger. In their early days when the undersides of their fingers constantly tingled from drugs and love and David had awoken after a nightmare. Steph had held him. Lightning had pierced the sky, flickering light over his brother’s face and he’d felt at home. Always feels that way with Steph. They bicker like brothers do but when they’re together, when they’re like this. It feels right. Dave can’t explain it. Didn’t think anyone would understand. Still thinks it’s kind of wild that Murphy is willing to try to understand it. But Murphy doesn’t know what it’s like to have Steph there for him. And when it clicks that that’s what Murphy thinks he’s missing out on, Dave is struck by it. An overwhelming awe and appreciation for Steph fills him, for what other people don’t get to have.
Dave marinates in that thought, an undercurrent to the way Steph pleasures him. Sucks him and thrusts his fingers inside Dave’s hole. Makes his whole body sweat and writhe. Heat building impossibly high. Steph must feel it. Has been doing this with Dave for so long that he knows how to read Dave’s body without him having to say anything.
Pulling off Dave’s dick, Steph asks him, “Are you close, baby?”
All this ‘baby’ talk is new and normally he’d be asking Steph to cut it out but honestly he’s kind of digging it. Makes him feel small but Steph’s there to protect him, to hold him. And part of him wonders if Steph’s using the sweet talk just for Murphy’s benefit. If they’d talked about that before or how did Steph get the idea to do that? Or if he knows that’s what Murphy likes…
Steph’s stroking his cock, moving the foreskin up and down, his own spit dribbling down Dave’s length. “You want to come yet?”
Dave swallows hard. Remembers what it’s like to have saliva in his mouth. “Y-yeah. Don’t stop…”
“James,” Steph says, clearing his throat, “How should he come on me?”
“Fuck…” Dave whispers coarsely.
“On your face, Steph,” Murphy suggests.
“Okay. Can you do that for us, baby?”
The way Steph looks at him should be illegal. A shiver jolts down David’s spine. For a moment, he’s paralysed. Entranced by Steph’s gaze and by the way his brother is slowly stroking him, his spit now dribbling down his balls and his inner thighs and he almost forgets he’d been asked to do something until Steph flips on his back.
Steph gestures at David in a ‘come here’ motion. His brain functions slowly, but gets him there. Gets him to kneel with his brother’s head in between his knees. He angles his cock downward, swallows as he watches Steph crane his neck to lick the underside of his cock. The angle’s a bit wrong but it takes everything for him not to just slam his cock back into his brother’s open mouth.
He chances a glance at Murphy. Being further down on the bed and having spent longer in the dimly lit room, he can make out the shape of his friend a little better now. A red flush evident over Murphy’s cheeks. David strokes his cock, feels the remnant saliva over his length and gives up on trying to find Murphy’s eyes in favour of looking down at his brother’s equally debauched face. It doesn’t take him long to reach the tipping point. Just a few rapid strokes that bring him over the edge. He doesn’t know if he’s meant to be aiming for some part of Steph’s face, but manages to rope come over Steph’s eyes and nose, and dribbles the rest of it into Steph’s mouth, who takes it onto his waiting tongue.
“That’s it,” Murphy murmurs from nearby.
At this point, David can’t look away from his brother. The end series of fireworks, brilliant in their final show, illuminate the room for long stretches of time and allows Dave to see streaks of cum over his brother’s face. The pearls of cum on his lips and pooling in the wrinkles on his cheeks. Steph tilts his head to the side, looks around Dave’s cock and grins up at him.
“You did good,” Steph says, almost sounding surprised. “My turn.”
He starts sitting up and grabs the blanket to wipe the cum off his face. Though he’s spent, something in Dave stops Steph from grabbing the sheet. Desire to perform kicks in and he pulls Steph toward him, cradles the back of Steph’s head with one hand and licks his own cum off Steph’s face.
He can feel a rumble of a moan in Steph’s chest. Threads his left arm around the back of Steph's waist and tilts Steph's head back so he can clean the cum of his brother's nose. Tongue over his upper lip and suck on his lower lip. Stephen kisses him back. Thrilled by David and grinds his hips into David's stomach.
David's head swims with heat and want. He wipes his lips away from Steph's mouth and chews on his brother's shoulder. Lets out deep, hot breaths with his lips sealed over his brother's skin.
"That was ... wow."
A similar rush to the way he feels after a good gig comes over him. An electrical wave that makes him giddy, powers him up. "Steph's so hard," Dave says in a raspy voice. "You should feel him."
A small laughter rumbles through Steph. The shadow at the corner of the bed grows larger as Murphy slides off the bed and steps over the floorboards to stand next to them. The lamp light slowly impresses upon their friend, highlighting the sweat on his brow, glistening lips and a hand in his pants, slowly jerking himself off...
Dave hangs off Steph's neck and reveals to Murphy his brother's glorious length.
"How... how did you fit that thing in your mouth?" Murphy wonders.
Dave grins. He shrugs nonchalantly and replies, "Years of practice."
Steph nibbles on David's ear. "You want to have a go?"
Heat boils in David's chest. A jealousy and a desire to see how Murphy looks with his brother. Is slightly relieved when Murphy declines.
"Why don't you fuck him?"
"Of course. Do you want that Dave?" Steph asks him. His hand roams over Dave's bum and finds his puckered hole. Threads one finger in. "Want me to fuck you?"
"I want to fuck you," Dave retorts, thinking of the missed opportunity a few days ago.
"You came already," Stephen says, thrusting another finger inside Dave. "Please Dave. Let's show James how good you can take me."
A humiliating feeling creeps into his body but it somehow makes the whole situation hotter. He nods in response to his brother's question. Turns his mouth toward Steph's mouth after his brother wets his fingers and reinserts them in David's hole. David kisses his brother ravenously, tingling spreading all over as his brother prepares his hole. Wets and widens his walls.
Steph cradles David's head over his shoulder as he asks Murphy, "How do you want to see it?"
Murphy clears his throat. "From behind. Fuck him from behind. That's the… that's the best part about porn. Getting to see a dick sinking into a hole."
"Can't argue with that," Steph says. Then softer, "Okay baby. Time to get on your knees."
David swallows spit down his dry throat. Normally he's the one bossing Stephen around. Telling him what to do, how he wants Steph. The change up in dynamics to Dave being the submissive hasn't happened since he was in his early 20s when all of this was new. He supposed Murphy being in the mix is a new thing and David is so incredibly turned on, his spent dick already thickening again, that he doesn't mind that he's going to be bottoming.
When Steph slaps his side encouragingly, David obeys and turns around. In doing so his brothers fingers pull out of his hole and he sags at the absence. Grinds his bum against Steph's cock needily. The thick heat disappears for a moment while Steph licks David's hole. David moans at the probing tongue. Gathers the pillows under his chest and chin and raises his hips ready for the taking.
He feels his brother grab hold of his hips and the head of his large cock fills the mouth of David's hole. Then Stephen pushes in and David lets out an unbridled moan which fills the echo-y room.
"Just halfway baby girl," Steph teases.
"Stephen…" Dave growls, vocally annoyed by the choice of words but secretly digging it.
Steph's left hand spreads over Dave's lower back, gently pulling the skin around David's hole and easing more of his cock in. David has no idea where Murphy procured the lube but he feels the cold liquid dribble around his hole and is grateful for it. Needs help to take his brother in fully.
"Almost there. You're doing so well."
It's Murphy who says that and it sends David groaning. The groan increases in volume when he feels Stephen's cock hit the hilt.
"He's so small, how does that thing even fit?" Murphy marvels.
Steph rubs a hand down David's spine, rolls his hips into David as he moves his dick around inside him. It's too much to bear. Tears spring to David's eyes and he begs Stephen to go faster.
"Should I?"
"I think you should," concurs Murphy.
Stephen teases David a little longer though. Pulls out slowly to the point where David's arsehole puckers around the head of Steph's cock. Then when Steph pushes in, David knows this is it. This is when he'll be split open. Steph thrusts, relentless.
"Fuck…"
It's a word that comes from David's mouth and Murphy's almost simultaneously. Links them in passion, the performer and the audience. David scrunches the pillows in his fists and shoves the fabric in his mouth, trying to dull the filthy moans that tumble out of his throat.
Of course, Steph can't last much longer. Doesn't have the vitality he had a decade ago and has been riled up since he came into David's bedroom, lead by Murphy's hand. But Dave thinks it's the sound of their friend coming that sets Steph off. Makes his brother hit David's sweet spot only twice before he's coming. Body writhing and jolting and cursing as he empties his seed into David.
David shudders, takes it all in. Feels his brother's cum oozing inside of him, dripping out of his aching arsehole. And the next few minutes are a blur. All of a sudden Steph is next to him, kissing his forehead and rubbing circles in his back. The last thing he remembers is Murphy pulling the blanket over the two of them and then disappearing. David doesn't know if he's still in the room, hiding in a shadow or if he's completely gone. But it doesn't matter. David is gone to the world. Blacked out. Asleep.
In early morning, when the sun is rising and the earth is warming, he feels Steph's arms around him and smells coffee from downstairs and sees a note on the bedside table. Reading it, it's from Murphy, and he knows everything is going to be okay.