praise for becca vale

“If Becca Vale’s smut was a snack, I’d ruin my dinner with it.”
★★★★★

— an anonymous fan, caught gossiping about the

author online

“This is the kind of gay taboo filth I am here for! Brothers fucking
brothers? Bring it on!” ★★★★★

— the author’s bestie (who is totally unbiased and

was definitely not paid in chocolate for this review)

“Hot! These stories make me feel a little dirty, but I still get off to
them.” ★★★★★

— a reader who understands exactly what they’ve

signed up for

OceanofPDF.com
 touch starved
m/m brocest

becca vale

OceanofPDF.com
 Copyright © 2025 by Becca Vale
Smashwords Edition
Cover Design by the author

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Disclaimer
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. It contains sex acts between consenting
adults, and all characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.

OceanofPDF.com
 contents
About This Book
A Quick Disclaimer

Chapter 1
A boy can dream.
~ Tala
Chapter 2
Every possible kind of wrong.
~ Bayani
Chapter 3
The power of positive thinking.
~ Tala
Chapter 4
Fuck, what’s happening to me?
~ Bayani
Chapter 5
Like it always should have been.
~ Tala
Chapter 6
I can’t make myself call it a mistake.
~ Bayani
Chapter 7
His, completely.
~ Tala
Chapter 8
A dirty, perfect little angel.
~ Bayani
Chapter 9
Yes, yes, yessssss!
~ Tala

About the Author

Loved this book?
More from Becca Vale
OceanofPDF.com
 about this book
Touch Starved

I grew up passed around from one family member to the other, always an
afterthought, a bother, a burden. Except to my big brother.
Bayani enlisted in the Army when I was just a kid, and I haven’t seen
him in person in years. So many years that when I was younger, I actually
forgot he even existed.
But ever since I found out again?
I’ve written to him every single day, and somehow, that makes it feel
like he’s the only one who actually sees me, even if he’s not around.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Either way, I’m about to find out, because suddenly, he’s being
discharged even though I always thought he’d stay enlisted long enough to
retire. He’s coming home.
And the only thing in the whole world I want is for him to be proud of
me. At least, that’s all I want until, for the first time in years, I get to hug
him again.
Because the minute I feel his arms around me?
I start to want even more…
OceanofPDF.com
 a quick disclaimer
• suggestion box fails (mine, not yours) and your Tagalog
quick-reference guide •

So, I’ve got a confession: this started out as a suggestion box story.
New to my smut? Well, in case you’re not familiar, I’ve got a fun little
online virtual collection box where some of you filthier minded readers
drop story prompts, special requests, and other delicious notes for me.
Now, I get a LOT of them, which is not only flattering as all hell, but
also proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not the only one with an
absolutely filthy mind out there…
😜
Anyway, there’s no rhyme or reason to which requests I choose to turn
into stories each week. I’ve got literally hundreds of prompts in there that
I’d love to write, but only so much time (sigh) so it’s very much a random
mood/shiny object/“oooh, squirrel!” system.
And by system, I mean… uh, whatever is definitely not an actual
system. 😂😂😂
ANYWAY, I’m rambling (because I just pulled another all-nighter to get
this week’s smut out to you on time!) but my point is: this book was
supposed to be based on a reader request.
The same reader request I tried to turn into a smutty little treat a couple
of weeks ago (Praiseworthy).
 But both times, I started out with the full intention of giving that reader
what they asked for, and ended up… somewhere else.
FYI, here’s the request I keep trying to write but accidentally veering
off from:

I need another super possessive/sweet cherub angel baby

matchup like Roman & Luca in your “Dirty Wet Bastard” book!
Doesn’t have to be half bros or water sports, but something
about the way you wrote that instant deep possessive,
obsessive, go to the ends of the world for you 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 . Need it!
Maybe it can be an uncle that was working internationally so
they never got to meet and the nephew is going to visit for the
summer but he wants to skip all the sightseeing cause he
doesn’t wanna see anything other than his sexy uncle? Or an
older brother with his much younger “surprise” baby bro that
he hasn’t spent time with in years cause he was away in the
military and baby bro is way too happy to have him back and
just wants to do every and anything his commander big bro
wants

That was originally my inspo for Praiseworthy, and then again here for
Touch Starved. But both times, my inner muse kept insisting on making the,
uh, more “dominant” partner… softer.
In other words, I feel like I missed the mark of the request even though I
love the smut I actually ended up with, so I’m keeping the request on file
and not formally crediting it here.
In other words, I’m just… whining?
😂😂😂
The thing is, I LOVE Roman from Dirty Wet Bastard. He’s pissed off at
the world and so possessive of his sweet, needy little half-brother that I
should definitely someday follow up on a few other requests I’ve had to
write them a sequel.
(LOL, is it weird to say that I find those two super 🥵 too, even though
I’m the one who wrote them???)
Anyway, maybe it’s because there’s been a hell of a lot of chaos going
on behind the scenes here in my personal life lately, or maybe I just haven’t
tapped into the right story setting to give my guys that absolutely
obsessively possessive vibe that Roman has for Luca, but either way, I’m
not happy calling that particular reader request fulfilled yet.
But I’m not giving up on it, either!
Hopefully, I’ll nail it one of these future Fridays and give you
something hot, so if it sounds as fun to you as it does to me, keep your
fingers crossed for me.🤞🤞🤞

Okay, what else?

Oh, right. Two things:

1 - As far as I know, Filipino culture is generally super family-oriented, so

feel free to consider Tala’s situation an outlier. If I had written him a full
novel, I could have fleshed out a little bit more about why exactly he wasn’t
cared for properly growing up, but for now, just go with it, because⁠—
(Ready? Say it with me now…)
—YOU’RE HERE FOR THE SMUT, PEOPLE!
And if you’re not, well… thanks for reading? But seriously, that’s really
all there is to see here.
😜

2 - In case you don’t read on your Kindle app and can’t translate in-text,
here’s a quick Tagalog (Filipino) translation guide for the non-English
words Bayani and Tala use:
Bunso - “little one” (youngest child/youngest sibling, used
affectionately)
Hayop - animal/beast (used as a curse word)
Kuya - big brother
Munting unggoy ko - my little monkey
Nanay - mother
Tatay - father
Tita - aunt

(At least, those are the translations according to Google. If I’ve screwed any
of it up, apologies to any native speakers! But again, just go with it in the
spirit intended. I promise, it won’t affect the actual smut. 😉)

XOXO

Becca
OceanofPDF.com
 one
. . .
A boy can dream.
~ Tala

I’ m on my last delivery before heading to my favorite diner to meet

my brother when a black Camry blows through a stoplight right in front of
me, the driver’s eyes locked onto the phone in his hand.
I swerve hard to avoid being flattened.
“Hayop,” I curse at him, calling him an animal as I slam a foot down in
the pavement to avoid falling off my bike and right into traffic.
My phone isn’t quite as lucky. My fault and I know it, since I’ve been
pulling it out to scroll through and re-read Bayani’s messages all day and
must not have secured it properly. Still, when it tumbles out of the mount
secured to my handlebars, bounces on the pavement, and is immediately
crushed under an SUV’s tires, taking the blame doesn’t make me feel better
at all.
In fact, if I’m honest, it kind of makes me want to cry.
I don’t, of course. That never helps a damn thing. Instead, I take a
second and breathe deep, forcing myself to look for the silver lining. Which
in this case is… uh…
Well, maybe it’s that—since I’ve been working as a bike messenger for
the last two years—I don’t really need the GPS on my phone to get
anywhere anymore. I basically know the streets of Philly inside and out
now.
 But shit, I do need it to log my deliveries in the app from Liberty Pedal,
otherwise I won’t get paid. And of course it’s also been my only connection
with Bay, since he’s been stationed either overseas or at Army bases in
other parts of the country for pretty much my whole life.
Shit shit shit.
But okay. Okay, I can deal with this. I deal with everything, because
what other choice do I have? And sure, it’s not like I have a clue how I’m
going to afford a new phone, but… but the first step is always simply to
take the next step, and then the one after that, and then the one after that.
And the first step right now is finishing up this delivery.
I’ll just have to ask to use the landline at the architecture firm I’m
dropping it off at so I can tell Jamal, my boss, that it was done. And then
hope he won’t be a hard-ass about the fact that I didn’t log in the
confirmation through the app or dock my pay or anything.
I can do that, and I do, not even getting a twinge of my usual awe-slash-
envy as I rush past all the awesome projects, blueprints, and models in the
lobby of Block House Design, which we deliver to often.
I don’t have time for that today. Bayani has been in the Army since he
was eighteen, and I guess I always thought he’d just… always be in. That
I’d never really get a chance to see him, or know him in person, even
though I email him all the time.
Probably too much, even though he doesn’t let on if he’s annoyed by it.
But anyway, I guess something happened during his most recent
deployment. He’s been super vague about the details but I can tell it’s…
well, not good. But even though it means they’re kicking him out of the
Army, I still know it couldn’t have been Bay’s fault.
He’s the best person I know. The best person period.
But the Army’s loss is my gain, because now that he’s done with all the
discharge stuff at Fort Cavazos down in Texas, it’s time for him to start on
his civilian life.
 I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of bummed—okay, super bummed—
that it won’t be here in Philadelphia. Or, like, even anywhere close, since
some guy who used to serve with him hooked him up with a job at a big-
time private security firm down in Atlanta.
But the silver lining? Well, I mean, besides the obvious, which is that he
won’t be getting freaking shot at as part of his job description anymore.
At least, I don’t think? I’m honestly not entirely sure what “private
security” actually means, but at least it’s not a war zone.
Anyway, the real silver lining is that on his way from Texas to Atlanta,
he scheduled a four-hour layover here in Philly, just so he could see me.
And Texas to Atlanta? That’s a straight shot that doesn’t come anywhere
near Philadelphia… which means that even though he called it a layover, he
had to have actually gone out of his way to book his flights this way.
Which means he… he wants to see me.
Despite my throbbing ankle—because stopping myself from getting
squashed earlier came with a price, ow—and broken phone, and pissed-off
boss, I ride that high all the way to the diner we agreed to meet at.
And then immediately lose it when I stop to lock up my bike and nerves
slam into me. Hard.
Our parents were already on the older side when they had Bayani, and
thirteen years later when I came along—the oops baby—Tatay was sick,
Nanay was just plain worn out, and Bay…
Well, Bay was the one who took care of me.
But I was so dang young that I barely remember it, which feels totally
unfair, since it was probably the best part of my childhood.
Bay enlisted as soon as he was old enough, though, because I guess
stuff at home was rough with Tatay’s illness. Keeping in touch with a five-
year-old wasn’t high on his priority list at the time, which I totally
understand, and as horrible as I feel to admit it, I basically forgot about him
what with all the changes that happened that year.
 Our parents decided to move to the Philippines shortly after Bay left for
basic training since health care here costs so freaking much. Back there,
between the public healthcare system and Nanay’s brother, who’s a
physician, Tatay got the care he needed all the way through the end of his
life.
They left me here, though, “for a better life.” First with one set of
relatives, then—when an extra mouth to feed got too expensive for them—
with another. And then another.
Finally, when I was in middle school, Tita Felisa took me in, and since
she’s really big on family responsibility even if she isn’t exactly the
warmest person on the planet, she basically read me the riot act for not
staying in touch with my brother while he was out there in the world,
serving our country and keeping us all safe.
Yelling at me like that was the best gift she ever gave me, because I’d
forgotten I had a brother. I’d been so young when he left, and then things
were so confusing when the relatives were shuffling me around for the next
few years.
And no one ever mentioned him. No one asked about him. Heck, no one
even really asked about me as long as I stayed out of trouble—which I
always did—and didn’t make myself too much of a burden.
But Tita Felisa tracked down Bayani’s contact information through the
Army somehow, then let me use her home computer to email him, and…
and he remembered me.
He wrote back.
He always writes back, even if his answers are usually really short and,
uh, factual I guess. I mean, I tell him everything—well, the good stuff,
anyway, and even that I sugarcoat a little bit because I want him to be proud
of me and not think I’m failing as hard at life as I currently am—but he
doesn’t really share, you know, emotions and stuff.
 Which is fine! I’m not greedy. I don’t need him to, um… you know.
Love me.
But it’s also why I don’t outright tell him how much I love him, even
though I do. How much I look up to him. How… How wonderful he is.
How he’s the best thing in my life, even if he’s not actually in my life.
Well, until today.
Because this? Right now? This will be the first time I’ve actually seen
him in person since I was five, and even that I don’t actually remember
despite Tita Felisa finally getting Nanay to send an old photo of me and Bay
to us after I bugged her about it for months and months and months.
Which, uh, she didn’t appreciate. Like, at all.
I definitely learned not to be so much of a bother after that, though. And
the one person who never made me feel that way?
My big brother.
And now my palms are suddenly sweating, because… because what if
he’s disappointed after he’s gone out of his way like this to see me?
But silver lining: I don’t actually know that his layover here in Philly is
all about me. Sure, I’d like it to be. I’d love to be as special to him as he is
to me. But if I’m not, then maybe I don’t need to worry so hard about what
he’ll think of me.
Like, maybe he just got some kind of, I don’t know, good airline deal or
something. One that made him have to fly almost 800 miles out of his way.
Or maybe he has other business in the city.
Although if that’s true, I’d better not keep him waiting.
Except when I rush inside and then freeze—because sure, I haven’t seen
him in person for years, but he’s sent me pictures when I’ve asked and I… I
recognize him immediately.
He’s frowning down at his phone, and thanks to a big digital clock on
the wall, I realize I’m late, so I already have kept him waiting.
 “Sorry!” I blurt, rushing over and sliding into the booth opposite him.
“Hi! It’s… it’s me, but I didn’t mean to be late. I’m sorry. I know you don’t
have a long layover and I… I just…”
Oh God. He’s not smiling.
Of course, he never smiles in any of the pictures he sends either, so I’ve
pretty much convinced myself that that’s just kind of how he is. But the way
his eyes—a brown so dark they’re almost black, just like mine—are boring
into me so intensely?
They dry up the words in my throat, and I’m left floundering.
Then he does smile. Very slightly. And reaches across the table to pat
the back of my hand.
“Tala.”
I suck in a sharp breath, the rasp of his skin against mine—warm, dark,
calloused, amazing—setting off fireworks inside me.
His touch is gone as quickly as it was there, and so is the smile as he
straightens up to something that makes him look so… military, I instantly
want to whimper.
He frowns. “Why are you late? You didn’t answer my messages.”
Oh shit.
“I, um, I…”
Can’t tell him I broke my phone. That sounds so irresponsible.
“My phone died,” I blurt, which is technically true even if its death was
way more permanent than I’m making it sound like. I wince, hating lying to
him, but not as much as I’d hate for him to think I’m a huge fuck up.
“Sorry?”
“With your job, maybe you should get an extra battery pack,” he
suggests. “I was worried.”
Butterflies explode inside me, fluttering so hard I can’t breathe for a
moment.
He was worried? About me?
 No one ever worries about me.
I pat my cheeks, because they feel flushed and aching… and it’s not
until I touch them that I realize it’s because I’m smiling so hard.
I’m about to apologize for that, too, because hello, can I possibly make
this any weirder? When Bayani’s eyes soften, that tiny hint of a smile
returning to his lips.
“No matter,” he says, tucking his own phone away. “I’m just glad you
made it. It’s good to see you, Bunso.”
I flush even harder. He’s being so nice to me.
Thankfully, there’s a table between us, otherwise I might do something
completely embarrassing, like throw myself at him and cling on like a little
monkey, begging him to…
Well, to stay.
I push that pointless bit of longing away and remind myself to be
grateful for the moment, and then I can’t help myself. I pepper him with
questions about his new job, and the friend who he’ll be working with, and
Army life, and why he left, and just… just everything.
He’s not really much more emotive in person than he is in email. At
least, not with words. He answers some of my questions, dodges some
others, corrects me about the friend—who I guess isn’t one? Just some guy
who used to be in Bay’s platoon?—and completely refuses to talk about
why he’s been discharged.
But he also is more emotive, because in person like this, his eyes stay
locked onto me the whole time, intense and warm, and he touches my hand
three more times, and asks me a bunch of stuff about me, too.
So basically, it’s the best day I’ve had in forever, and when he finally
has to leave to go catch an Uber for his flight?
He… well, he doesn’t exactly hug me, but he does squeeze my shoulder,
and I can’t help it. I swoon.
But just on the inside, of course.
 “Take care of yourself, Bunso,” he murmurs, the heat of his grip seeping
right into my bones and making me want to melt into a puddle. Or, you
know, cling to him.
I don’t, of course. I straighten up and promise him I will take care of
myself. Of course I will. Who else would?
But I also silently promise myself that I’ll do it even better than I have
been—which has honestly been pretty shittily so far, even though I try my
best.
But from here on out, I’ll do better. For him.
So he’ll be proud of me.
Maybe even visit me again sometime.
And maybe, if he does, next time I’ll get the guts up to try for a real
hug.
Maybe.
Well, honestly, probably not. All the relatives who’ve cared for me over
the years have gotten annoyed by how clingy I was, until I finally learned
not to be. And I’d hate for Bayani to be annoyed with me, too.
Still, a boy can dream.
OceanofPDF.com
 two
. . .
Every possible kind of wrong.
~ Bayani

A fter spending my entire adult life in the A rmy , the adjustment to

civilian life has been… fucking shitty, if I’m honest.
I won’t say it’s been hard, because I’ve done hard. I’ve lived hard. Hard
is my goddamn comfort zone.
This… is not.
“Do you take sugar, Mr. Cruz? Cream?”
The pretty little receptionist blinks up at me through lashes that are
disturbingly long, two dimples in her cheeks as she smiles up at me perkily
and a waft of sweet-smelling perfume surrounding her that almost chokes
me.
Or maybe that’s hearing her address me as “mister.”
I stiffen my spine and give her a polite smile, because it’s not her fault.
It was my choice, and I’d make it again.
Besides, even if she knew my rank—and it is still mine; they didn’t
demote me despite the black mark on my discharge—out here, no one is
required to use it.
“Just black,” I tell her, standing at parade rest. “Thank you.”
The truth is I’m not interested in coffee, but I am interested in making
this job at Arcstone Protection work, so I’ll jump through all the hoops, play
nice, and figure out how shit works out here in the civilian world if it kills
me.
At least, that was my plan. The problem is that while she makes small
talk and offers me coffee—or maybe flirts? I’ve never had any interest in
women or any time for personal relationships, so I really can’t tell—I’m
having trouble keeping my mind where it should be.
Which is here, preparing to meet up with Corporal Yates, a man
formerly under my command who was medically discharged a few years
ago, and who reached out to me after the incident and offered me this job.
Instead, Tala is on my mind.
The receptionist tells me that Corporal Yates—Mr. Yates—will be with
me in a moment, and I thank her on autopilot as a muscle starts to tic in my
jaw.
Where the hell is Tala? It’s been three days since I saw him in
Philadelphia, which is more than enough time for him to charge his dead
phone and respond to my messages.
I’m… not used to being the one who reaches out.
And I’m definitely not used to going this long without hearing from
him.
I don’t fucking like it.
To say I was shocked to hear from my little brother eight years ago is an
understatement. When I first entered basic, I used to ask our parents for
regular updates, missing the sweet little monkey like air.
But our mother was overwhelmed with caring for our father, and he was
too ill at that point to ask anything of. And then, after they returned to the
Philippines and my training became even more intense, I lost track of which
relatives Tala was with.
And then it simply became easier to keep my focus on the job at hand
than pine for people who weren’t available to me, so that’s what I did.
 But ever since that first message from Tala? The boy hasn’t gone more
than a day without reaching out, and when I’m able to respond—which for
damn sure hasn’t been to every single message, because he’s prolific—he
always replies promptly. Always.
So his current silence… concerns me.
“Mr. Cruz? Mr. Yates will see you now,” the receptionist says, handing
me a steaming coffee, black, in a stainless steel mug with the Arcstone logo
on it.
“Thank you,” I murmur, following her down a long, carpeted hallway
while I replay my brief visit with Tala in my head, something I’ve already
done dozens of times.
Seeing him was… fuck. I’ve got no words.
I’ve also got no justification for indulging myself by flying up to
Philadelphia to see him in person before reporting in here at Arcstone
Protection in Atlanta other than that I just, I wanted to.
He’s sent me pictures, of course, but it’s not the same. He’s prattled on
in those emails about all sorts of details of his day-to-day life, so that I
almost felt like I’ve been a part of that life. But I wasn’t. Not really.
Didn’t think I ever could be.
And I couldn’t—I mean fucking could not—pass up the chance to have
just a tiny taste of it before I settle back into doing my duty, even if that
duty is now to my employers instead of to my country.
“Hey, Staff, good to see you again,” Corporal Yates says when I’m
shown into his office, a wide grin on his face as he rounds his desk to shake
my hand.
“You, too, Corporal,” I say, my mind still on Tala. “I appreciate the
opportunity here at Arcstone.”
I thought our meeting in Philadelphia went well. My little brother
looked good. A little ragged, a little unkempt, sure, but he’d been coming
directly off work, so that makes sense.
 He also looked a little too thin, but what do I know? It’s probably from
all that cardio, biking around the city like he does.
Mostly, he just looked… beautiful.
Although I’m sure that’s not something he’d appreciate hearing.
In my experience, most men don’t.
It’s still true, though. Tala was a pretty baby and an even prettier little
boy, so I shouldn’t be surprised. But seeing him all grown up?
He took my fucking breath away.
“How about we just go with Marcus,” Corporal Yates says, pointing me
toward a seat.
I take it, forcing my mind back to the task at hand. Trying to, anyway.
“Marcus?”
He laughs, resting a hip against the edge of his desk instead heading
back around it. “It’s my name, Staff. And since we’re going to be working
together…”
He lifts his eyebrows, prompting me.
“Then please, I’m just Bay. Bayani. Whatever you’re comfortable
with.”
Although it was nice to actually be addressed by my rank for a moment.
I don’t have many people in my life who use my first name. And by not
many, I mean… just Tala.
Yates makes a little more small talk, then starts the formal onboarding
process, and I manage to keep ninety-eight percent of my attention on it.
Fine. Maybe ninety-five percent.
But Yates was damn good at his job when he served under me, and
apparently he hasn’t lost any of his observational skills, because it doesn’t
take him long to call me on it.
Graciously.
“Adjusting to civilian life can take a minute. How have you been
settling in?”
 “Just fine, thank you.”
Yates smirks, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay,
and now how about the real answer.”
“I…”
I’m about to repeat that I’m settling in fine, but “settling in” is probably
an overstatement since I haven’t even begun to look for a place here in
Atlanta yet. I’m holed up in a local hotel at the moment, with most of my
personal belongings—not that there’s very much—still back in a storage
unit near Fort Cavazos.
Yates’ smirk drops off. “Seriously, Staff—Bayani, is everything okay?”
It goes against everything inside me to air personal grievances. In my
experience, those are best left out of sight and out of mind.
So I’ve got no excuse for actually answering him honestly.
“I’m worried about my little brother. He’s gone dark.”
Yates’ eyebrows shoot up again. “Brother? The fuck? I didn’t think you
had family, Staff!”
I think he’s joking. Or… maybe not. It’s not just personal grievances
that I tend to keep to myself. It’s personal everything.
“His name is Tala. He’s in Philadelphia. I stopped in to see him before
reporting in here, but ever since… like I said, he’s gone dark.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty.”
Which is still hard for me to wrap my head around, my little monkey
being all grown up like that.
Yates cocks his head, studying me for a second. “I’d be inclined to say
that most twenty-year-olds I know wouldn’t be likely to check in with their
big brothers regularly, so it doesn’t sound all that concerning. But do you
know why I hired you?”
That muscle starts to tic in my jaw, and I’m not sure I want to hear this.
Not if it’s any fucking form of pity.
 “You knew I needed a job.”
He smirks. “I did hear something about that, yeah. But I also know you.
Served under you. Trusted you with my life—literally, as you know. But I
also trusted your instincts. Which, for the record, were proved spot on with
that bullshit in Iraq.”
“That’s classified, Corporal.”
He holds up his hands, but his smirk grows into a full smile. “And it
was also leaked to The Intercept, so don’t blame me.” Then his expression
sobers. “But for the record, you did the right thing. You saved a lot of lives,
sir.”
What I did was refuse orders, and after my official reprimand I was
forced to resign with an “honorable” discharge... and a permanent black
mark on my record.
But the raid I was ordered to carry out would have violated the rules of
engagement and international law. It would have disproportionately targeted
civilians—women and children—in the compound where intelligence
reports claimed enemy combatants were hiding.
Intelligence reports that later proved faulty.
Yates is right. My decision did save lives. I’m still surprised that an
organization like Arcstone was willing to look at me, though, since the
military isn’t the only organization that frowns on men who refuse direct
orders.
Yates’ smile drops. “But my point here is that if you’re worried about
your brother, my gut says to trust your instincts. I take it it’s out of character
for him to be out of touch like this?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’ve checked in with other family in the area?”
Something ugly rears up inside me, but I beat it back down.
I would like to say that I love my family, that family means everything
to me since that’s how I was raised, but even if I understand why our
parents left Tala behind when they moved away, even if I understand why
Nanay barely stays in touch now that Tatay has passed, I’m not sure I can
ever forgive our various aunts and uncles back in Pennsylvania. The ones
who shuffled Tala around like he was an inconvenience for so many years,
and who—if I read between the lines of all the upbeat messages he sends
me—haven’t stepped up to make sure he’s taken care of properly now that
he’s out on his own.
Still, Yates is right. I should at least start there. Maybe I’m wrong and
our extended family is more involved in his life than they seem.
Yates claps me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch, and we can
track down your missing brother, okay?”
“You don’t need to⁠—”
“Need to?” he interrupts, laughing. “I fucking miss recon. It will be just
like old times, but with fewer bullets flying.”
I snort, almost laughing, and he grins. “Seriously, Bay, let’s sort this out
so it’s not weighing on you. The work can wait.”
I don’t school my shocked expression fast enough, and he laughs again,
but then gives me a serious look.
“It really can wait. Let’s get your focus where it needs to be right now,
yeah?”
He means on Tala, a suggestion that settles right in the center of my
chest.
Because it feels right.
“Your skills and my admiration for your ethics aren’t the only reason I
reached out with the job offer, Bayani,” he goes on. “I was aiming to be
career Army before I busted my knee jumping off that rooftop in Mosul,
and I was bitter as all hell about getting booted just because I couldn’t pass
the damn run, like all the years I’d already put in didn’t count.”
“You were missed.”
 He grins. “Thanks, man. And I’ve made my peace with it now, but my
point is, I could have used a friend to help make the adjustment a little
smoother, but all mine were still back in the sandbox. Let me be a friend to
you now, yeah?”
Well, damn. I didn’t expect that. Yates was a good soldier, but he was
under my command, not someone I was close to. Not a friend.
Although I can’t blame that solely on our respective ranks, since I don’t
make it a habit of getting close to anyone.
But he seems sincere right now, and I… I am a little unsettled by trying
to adjust to all the differences out in the civilian world. I’ve got no plans to
admit that, but it would be stupid to say no to Yates’—to Marcus’s offer of
friendship.
Especially if he’s willing to help me track down Tala.
Because Marcus is right, my instincts are usually good, and I’ve learned
to trust them. And losing touch with my little brother like this?
It feels every possible kind of wrong.
And now I need to do whatever it takes to make things with the little
monkey feel right again.
Taking the extra time and expense to fly out and check in on him in
person felt self-indulgent at the time since I’m so used to having so much of
my time regimented and accounted for, but now I’m kicking myself,
because the couple of hours I was able to spend with him weren’t nearly
enough.
I didn’t get a chance to see where he was living, or ask if he’s still
saving for school the way he used to talk about when he started this bike
messenger job a couple of years ago, or find out…
Everything.
Fuck, I want to know everything about my little brother, about how he’s
doing, his hopes, his dreams, his fears and worries. All those things he
glosses over in his messages but that, now that he’s stopped responding, are
suddenly looming like imminent threats in my imagination.
I want to, no I need to, make sure he’s really okay.
Because it suddenly occurs to me that—not for lack of trying—I haven’t
kept everyone at arm’s length over the years. Somewhere along the way,
without me even realizing it was happening, Tala’s relentless
correspondence and sweet, cheerful messages have worked their way right
through the armor I built up around my heart.
Right back into the part of it that’s belonged to him from the very
beginning.
OceanofPDF.com
 three
. . .
The power of positive thinking.
~ Tala

J amal didn ’ t dock my pay for the extra hassle of having to log in
that last delivery I made to Block House Design manually, but he did point
out—when I cycled back to the Liberty Pedal offices to beg for an advance
on my pay after meeting up with my brother on his layover—that I couldn’t
exactly keep working for them until I replaced my phone.
Which should have been obvious, I guess, since we get all our
assignments through the app, and the system assigns jobs based on some
kind of combination of each rider’s location, availability, and the priority
level of the delivery.
So no phone equals no app equals no GPS equals no job. Not that I’m
fired. Jamal was super chill about that, and he even gave me that advance I
asked for when I explained what happened.
The problem is that it’s not enough to get a phone that’s new enough to
actually work with Liberty Pedal’s app, and pay my share of the rent, which
is due this week, and eat anything other than the stale ramen some past
roommate stashed in the back of the kitchen cupboard.
But silver lining? At least with all the hustling I’ve been doing trying to
come up with some coin to get back on track, I haven’t had time to miss
Bay.
Well, not much at least.
 Okay, fine. I miss him insanely, which is weird since he’s been gone
most of my life, so it’s not like anything’s really changed just because he’s
in Atlanta now and not Iraq or whatever.
But somehow, seeing him in person, the way he almost sort of hugged
my shoulder and was just so… so nice to me, it’s all made me miss him
even more than when I used to back when he was totally out of reach.
Maybe I could move to Atlanta?
“Dude, put some pants on! What are you doing, trying to make rent?”
I pop up from where I was bent over, digging between the couch
cushions for loose change.
“Ha! Right,” I say, trying to play it off even as my face flushes with
heat.
I know Liam, one of my roommates, is joking... but the thing is, I really
do need to scrounge every cent if I’m going to cover my share.
God, who am I kidding about being able to move to Atlanta? Not that
Bay even said anything about wanting me to, but even if he did…
Maybe I could hitchhike? With my bike?
“Your clothes down in the laundry or something?” Liam asks, munching
on a Philly cheesesteak from the sandwich shop on the corner.
The smell is amazing, and my stomach growls so loudly that I have to
quickly fake a cough to cover up the embarrassing sound.
Then I force myself to look anywhere but at the meat, cheese, and bread
he’s shoving in his face, because there’s no point drooling and getting
caught in my underwear.
Because yes, my clothes are down in the laundry… although I’m going
to have to hang them up all over my room to dry if I can’t find enough
change to run them through the dryer, too.
And no, I couldn’t wait to wash them. Not any longer. Not when I have
to look halfway decent as I try and find some kind of quick work to pick up
around town.
 Ugh, why did I have to drop my phone?
I mean, not that it was my fault. But maybe I should have been paying
more attention to where I was going?
“Anyway,” Liam goes on, “some guy messaged me about your bed. You
wanna reply?”
He let me use his phone to list a bunch of my stuff for sale online,
because I figure keeping a roof over my head is more important than having
a mattress.
The floor won’t be too bad. Or maybe the other guys here won’t mind
too much if I just crash on the couch now and then, just until I can replace
my bed?
Which will be soon.
Well, soon-ish.
The point is, I’ve got to make rent before I worry about the next step, so
that’s what I’m focused on for now. Everything else will… will just work
out.
Somehow.
“Thanks,” I say as Liam hands over his phone. “How much did he offer
for it?”
“Twenty-five.”
My heart sinks. I listed it for fifty, which already wasn’t going to go far,
but half that?
I open the app, then stare at the message, chewing on my lip. “Should
I… accept?”
Liam shrugs. “Dunno, man. It’s your shit. Do what you want with it.”
Right. It’s not his problem. And we’re friendly—all four of the guys
who I live with are pretty chill, thank God—but not actual friends.
I’ve lost touch with the couple of good ones I had back in high school,
what with having to hustle all the time to stay on top of things and both of
them going out of state for college.
 But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. I can… I can handle this.
And twenty-five bucks will help more than zero, so I guess I should say
yes?
I type it into the app, and get back a thumbs up that sends relief rushing
through me. Twenty-five isn’t much, but at least it’s something.
But then another message pops through, saying the guy only wants it for
that price if I can deliver it.
Deliver it? On my bike?
It suddenly feels like I can’t breathe, my chest heavy and my throat
tight. Can I? Could I… maybe… balance it?
I know I can’t, even if it’s just a twin size.
Can I?
“You done?” Liam asks, eyeing his phone like an addict. “I need to head
out.”
My hand trembles a little, and for a second, I just… I don’t know what
to do.
But one step at a time, and what I definitely can’t do is hold Liam’s
phone hostage, so the next step is to hand it back to him, which I do.
I’ll figure out the rest. I will.
Liam makes a little more small talk as he finishes up his sandwich and
pulls on his shoes, then promises to let me know if he gets any more
messages about my stuff—he’s a good guy, right?—and leaves.
Well, goes to the door, anyway. I hear him open it, then the low rumble
of voices that I completely tune out, too busy trying to clear my mind
enough to figure out the next step here.
Um, pants?
Pants would be the next step.
Except they’re all in the washing machine two flights down. Okay, so
that’s not the very next step, then. Um, maybe there’s some loose change
under the couch?
 I’m about to crouch down and look when Liam comes back, rapping his
knuckles on the wall to get my attention.
“Heads up, Tala. You got a visitor, but, uh, I said you might need a
minute because…”
He gives my ass a pointed look.
Right. Pants.
“You wanna borrow a pair of sweats from my room?”
Oh, wow. That is super nice of him. So nice that it kind of floors me,
and it’s not until I go in and grab a pair from his drawer and slip them on—
too big, so they hang low on my hips, but better than nothing—that it
occurs to me to wonder who the heck is visiting me.
I literally can’t think of a single person who would just stop by like this,
so I’m already prepared to be surprised by whoever Liam left waiting at the
door. But still, when I finally round the corner and see… see Bay standing
there, face all stern and feet spread with hands behind his back like he’s still
in the army, “surprised” doesn’t even come close.
Neither does ”shocked.” It’s not big enough.
I’m… I’m speechless.
“Tala,” he says gruffly, eyeing me up and down with a frown. “You
weren’t answering my messages.”
I wasn’t… what?
I stare at him, blinking hard in case I’m imagining things. Then I pinch
myself.
Ow! Okay. Not dreaming.
Bay frowns harder. “May I come in?”
My heart starts to pound. “But you’re in Atlanta!”
His face softens, just a little, and he looks down at himself before giving
me the ghost of a smile. “Clearly, I’m not, Bunso.”
Oh my God, he’s really not. He’s here! My whole body flushes with
heat, and I’ve honestly got no idea if it’s from the joy of seeing him again or
the embarrassment of having him find out how shitty the place I’m renting
is.
But I don’t care. He asked if he could come in, and the answer is yes,
yes to anything he wants.
Always.
“Yes, please, come in, come, um… sit on the couch? Let me get you…”
Oh God, I’ve literally got nothing to offer him. Water? Ramen?
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, clasping my hands together to
keep them from shaking and kind of wanting to cry a little.
I just want him to be proud of me, not see me like this. A few more
years and I’m sure I’ll have my shit together so I can make him proud. Not
that I want to wait that long to see him! I just…
I just wish…
I…
I sniffle, then quickly fake a cough to try and hide it, scrubbing at my
cheeks as I stare at the floor, blinking fast.
“Tala,” Bay murmurs, slipping his shoes off at the door and coming
over to me. He tips my chin up, staring down at me with an intense look.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” I say quickly, wanting to nod to sell it better, but
also not daring to move because… because it’s just his finger under my
chin, just one, but I just can’t stand the thought of losing that little bit of
connection any sooner than I have to.
“Why weren’t you answering my messages?”
“I… um…”
My brain stalls out. I don’t want to admit what a spiraling mess my life
is right now, but I also don’t want to lie to him.
“Bunso?”
“My phone died,” I blurt, falling back on the same true-ish answer as
before. “Sorry. I’ll, um, well, as soon as I can, I’ll do better. I will.”
 He frowns at me again. “Your phone died Four days ago.”
I nod, my heart clenching at the loss when it makes him drop his hand,
tucking both of them behind him again as he stands in… what’s it called?
Parade rest, I think.
And I’m not quite sure what’s wrong with me, but just the fact that he’s
not touching me anymore—even though it was just a little!—kind of makes
me want to cry all over again.
I clear my throat fast so I don’t. “Uh, yeah. It did. Four days ago. When
I saw you. The thing is… well, when I said died I meant, like, permanently.
See, there was this car that almost hit me⁠—”
“What?” he snaps, his face going from kind of bland and stern to so
dang furious that it makes my mouth snap closed and a surge of adrenaline
flood through me.
He closes his eyes for a second, takes a breath, then looks at me again.
“Say that again.”
My heart starts to pound. “So, um, I was, you know, on a delivery
before I met up with you, and this car ran a light and I guess I wasn’t alert
enough? Anyway, I had to swerve but my phone flew out and⁠—”
“Were you hurt?” he grits out, interrupting me again.
I don’t mind, though. Not even a little bit. In fact, whatever the opposite
of “minding” is, that’s how it feels when he slowly trails his eyes all the
way down my body, like he’s inspecting for any injuries.
Like he… like he really cares.
It makes me get hot all over, my nipples tightening up and an electrical
buzzing start up in my veins.
“Tala?”
“Oh! What? Um, not really. I just, you know, twisted my ankle a little,
but it’s fine now! The car did kinda run over my phone, though.” I wince,
tucking my hands in the pockets of Liam’s sweats until I realize that they’re
too loose for that and I’ll pants myself if I do, then crossing my arms over
my chest instead. “Sorry. I should have the money for a new one soon.”
I duck my head, ashamed of having to lie again. Although it’s not really
lying. It’s just… the power of positive thinking.
“How?”
I shrug, wishing with everything in me that I could just… just have one
thing about me he’d be impressed with.
Anything.
Just one?
Ugh. No. I’ve got nothing.
“Tala, look at me.”
I do.
“I called Tita Felisa, and she hasn’t heard from you. I checked in with
the other families you used to stay with, and neither had they.”
I blink. Why would he think I’d call any of them? I mean, they were all
super generous for having shared the burden of raising me after our parents
left, but it was always clear that that’s what I was. A burden.
But that was when I was a kid. Now that I’m grown, I’m not going to be
that anymore.
“I also went to see your boss,” Bay goes on.
“Marcus?” I blurt. “At Liberty Pedal?”
His lips tighten as he nods. “He said you weren’t working today and he
wasn’t able to reach out to you, but wouldn’t give me any other details. You
haven’t lost your job there, have you?”
“No, Marcus is great! He’s holding it for me. It’s just that they route the
deliveries through the app, so right now I can’t, um…”
I shrug, not sure where Bay is going with all this or why he went
through so much effort to track me down, but definitely sure I’ve
disappointed him somehow.
 And then something else occurs to me. Well, it occurs to me again, but
this time, harder.
“You’re supposed to be in Atlanta!”
“I was in Atlanta.”
He gives me that small ghost of a smile, and my heart starts to pound
again, my palms getting weirdly sweaty.
I wipe them on my pants. Well, on Liam’s pants.
“I… I don’t understand. You came back?”
He gives me an intense look that I don’t understand at all. It definitely
makes my stomach twist up though.
But not in a bad way.
Oh God, not in a bad way at all.
“Tala,” he finally says, gripping my shoulder again, just like he did
when we saw each other at the diner. “I haven’t heard from you in four
days. No one had. I couldn’t reach you. Of course I came back. I had to
make sure you were alright.”
Wait, he came back just for me?
I want to cringe, my first instinct to apologize for making him do that.
What does it mean for his new job? Have I ruined that for him? And
booking an extra last minute flight? That had to be super expensive.
But when his grip tightens on my shoulder, almost like a tug, my first
instinct is completely overpowered by another instinct. And even if it’s
clingy, even if it’s too much, I can’t… I can’t help it.
I fling myself at him. Fling myself right at his chest.
And he catches me, arms wrapping tight instead of pushing me away as
he murmurs something so low I can’t make it out.
But I don’t have to, because the memory surfaces from somewhere so
deep I didn’t even know I still had it.
Munting unggoy. Little monkey.
 He used to call me that when we still lived together, before he enlisted,
back when I was just a kid.
I shudder all over, completely overwhelmed and shamelessly clinging to
him like I’m an actual monkey, not sure how long this amazing feeling can
last before he gets sick of me holding on so tight.
Except that he’s holding on tight, too.
And it doesn’t matter how long it lasts. I already know that I never, ever
want to be anywhere else.
OceanofPDF.com
 four
. . .
Fuck, what’s happening to me?
~ Bayani

T ala had nothing to eat at his place but old ramen packets , which
is the excuse I give for bringing him back to my hotel room.
The truth is that it was almost impossible to let go of him once he
hugged me, and I’m not sure what to do with that.
But I am sure that I’m not ready to be apart from him again.
I’m also sure he needs someone to fucking take care of him. He needs a
hot shower. He needs to eat. He needs a good night’s sleep, and there’s no
way he’s getting that on the sagging twin mattress I saw back in that little
cubby he called a bedroom.
My teeth grind together at the thought, but the last thing I’d want to do
is have my little brother think it’s him I’m upset with, so I school my face
and hand him the room service menu.
“Order whatever you’d like,” I tell him, asking myself again why I
didn’t just take him to a restaurant.
He glances on it, chewing on his lip for a moment as a little tremor of
shame goes through him. “Sorry, Bay. I, um, I can’t really afford⁠—”
I cut him off. “My treat.”
His eyes go wide. But then he blushes and nods, staring down at the
menu again intently. But not before I catch the worshipful look in his big,
dark eyes. The one that I deeply fear I’m already getting addicted to.
 I don’t know what I did to make my little brother think so highly of me
when I haven’t even been around, but I’ve got a fierce, burning need to do
more of it.
And it bothers me that he’d think, even for a moment, that I’d make him
pay for his own dinner.
The boy has not been cared for properly, and I’m having trouble not
being angry at every family member we have, for not looking out for him
better all these years.
But I’ve been no better. Yes, I was away, but still… I should have
realized. I should have done something.
I’m definitely going to do something now.
Unfortunately, caring for others isn’t my primary skill set. Tala’s always
had a sweetness inside him that makes me want to be gentle with him, but if
I once knew how, I’ve forgotten.
Our parents loved us. I know that. But Tatay was so sick for so long that
he had no energy to show it, and all of Nanay’s time and attention went into
caring for him.
And Army life? It’s not exactly a touchy feely place, and the boys I’d
occasionally find and fuck on the side never required gentleness. It was
always more… transactional.
But I do know how to look out for others, and luckily for me, when I
fall back on what I do best—giving orders—Tala doesn’t fight me on it.
Fuck, he seems grateful.
“Go shower and change into something comfortable,” I tell him after
placing our room service order, nodding toward the shopping bags we
brought in.
Color blooms across his cheeks again. “You really didn’t have to, um,
buy me stuff.”
I fix him with a stern look. “I really did.”
 A new phone, for starters. Then some clothes, because his looked
ragged and the ones he had in the apartment’s dank-smelling laundry room
weren’t much better.
He bites his lip, looking down. Looking anxious. “Thank you.”
I tip his chin up, almost shuddering with pleasure at the smooth, soft
feel of his warm skin.
Fucking hell, I’m not sure what’s come over me. But I still need to lock
my muscles in place to resist the urge to yank him back into my arms so I
can feel even more of it.
I can’t resist running my thumb back and forth over his jaw, though. It’s
the end of the day and I don’t see any stubble yet, as if he doesn’t even need
to shave daily yet. He’s still so young. So damn beautiful. So sweet.
It awakens every protective instinct I have.
“What’s wrong, Bunso?”
Because buying him things—nothing extravagant, nothing unnecessary
—was meant to make his life easier, not awaken the nerves I can see
twisting him up right now.
“I just, um, I just don’t want you to think I can’t take care of myself.”
“Of course you can.”
His eyes widen, a gorgeous little smile starting to tip his full lips up.
“But you shouldn’t have to,” I go on. “You shouldn’t be so alone.”
He leans into my touch like he’s hungry for it, until I’m cupping his face
and he’s practically nuzzling my hand.
“I’m doing okay.”
“Of course you are,” I murmur. “But okay isn’t good enough for you.
You deserve better.”
“Oh,” he says softly, his body swaying toward me as his eyes go big and
liquid again.
Heat starts coiling in my stomach, low and urgent.
 I want to touch more of him. I want to run my fingers through his thick,
inky black hair and find out how soft it is. I want to hold him against my
body, the way he let me at his apartment. Breathe him in and never let him
go.
I curl my fingers against his skin, tempted—far too tempted—to pull
him even closer and indulge myself in all of it.
I’ve never felt this way before. I loved him as a child. It was impossible
not to. But it felt much more… innocent then. Natural and easy.
I love him now, too, raw and fierce and deep. And I have no fucking
clue what to do with that, or how to how him without overwhelming him.
And I’m deeply afraid that if I try, I won’t be able to stop. That it will
grow into something possessive and wholly inappropriate between brothers.
I step back. “Go shower and change. The food should be here soon.”
He whines softly when I drop my hand, but cuts it off abruptly, looking
embarrassed as he nods and scurries off to do what I told him to.
And I… fucking hell. I don’t know what to do with myself, but it had
better be something, or else I’m going to spend the next twenty minutes
picturing my baby brother, my sweet little monkey, my own flesh and
blood, touching himself, wet and naked in the shower.
Or worse. My self-control is going to break, and I’m going to go in
there and offer to do it for him.
I hear the water come on and take a step toward the bathroom before I
catch myself.
“Fuck,” I mutter, curling my hands into fists as I turn away. Something
is seriously wrong with me. Maybe it’s one of those difficulties in adjusting
to civilian life that Corporal Yates—Marcus—mentioned.
I latch onto that thought like a lifeline, and then remember that he’d
messaged me earlier, asking if I’d had any luck in tracking down my
brother.
 A muscle in my jaw starts to tic as I think about the fact that no one but
me seemed to notice or care that my little brother had apparently dropped
off the face of the earth.
Well, his employer did, and I can’t even fault the man for not giving out
Tala’s personal details, even if it pissed me off at the time.
But our family?
I’m going to crack a molar if I think about their total absence of concern
for him, so I tuck away and compartmentalize my emotions the way I
learned to out in the field, and pull up my message thread with Marcus.

ME: Found him.

YATES: Roger that. He ok?

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing through my nose. It’s a simple

question, but the answer is complicated.
Tala is so very much better than just okay. He’s perfect. Sweet. Needy
even though he tries to mask it.
Mine.
But his situation is still very, very much not okay. At least, not with me.
And with the same sixth sense that made him so fucking good at recon,
Marcus somehow picks up on that.

YATES: Should we delay your official start date?

My knee-jerk reaction is to deny it, to promise I’ll be on a flight back to

Atlanta tomorrow, which was the plan I’d left with—returning as soon as
I’d tracked Tala down and made sure he wouldn’t go dark again.
I’ve bought him a phone, added him to my plan, so the mission is
officially accomplished.
And I can’t afford to fuck up the job at Arcstone. Not only because it
would undoubtedly reflect poorly on Marcus after he put himself out there
for me, but also because…
 Well, what the fuck else would I do?
I never gave any thought to an alternate career, because much like
Marcus before he fucked up his knee, I was career Army.
Yes, I have savings. No, I’m not destitute if I don’t start working within
the next few days. That’s not the issue.
Having a motherfucking purpose is the issue.
Besides, the… urges I got while touching Tala, as innocent as those
touches were, make it risky to get closer to him. Staying longer isn’t really
an option.
My phone rings, vibrating in my hand and startling the shit out of me.
It’s Marcus.
“Was it a hard question, Staff?” he teases the moment I answer. “It’s not
like you to dither.”
“I’m not dithering,” I growl into the phone, the very thought offensive.
I made a decision. I’ll book a flight to Atlanta first thing in the morning.
That’s the opposite of dithering.
So it makes no sense at all that when I open my mouth to tell Marcus
that, what actually comes out is something entirely different.
“How long of a delay are we talking?”
He chuckles. “I guess that depends on how long you need to get things
settled for your brother.”
I scrub a hand over my face, not sure how to answer that. Also not used
to being given that much leeway.
Yes, I got myself drummed out of the Army for refusing orders, but
those were unique circumstances. I’m used to being told where to go and
when I’m needed there. Not having this kind of choice.
The sound of the shower turns off, and I’m suddenly all too aware of
what I’d conveniently let myself forget for a moment. That duty to my new
job at Arcstone isn’t the only reason I should return to Atlanta.
 There’s a fine line between taking care of my little brother and the
craving that’s awakened inside me.
The one to keep him close.
The one to touch him.
The one to⁠—
“Bayani?”
The tone of Marcus’s voice tells me it’s not the first time he’s said it,
and I vaguely register having heard both “Staff” and “Cruz” as he’d
addressed me by rank and last name, respectively, while I’d been staring at
the bathroom door.
Fuck, what’s happening to me?
“I do want to get Tala settled,” I answer Marcus briskly, pulling up the
thread of our conversation. “Can I get back to you on a start date?”
“Absolutely,” he says as Tala finally cracks open the bathroom door, a
waft of warm, scented steam escaping. “And sir? Remember, we do have a
satellite branch office in Philly.”
He doesn’t need to call me sir anymore. I’m not his commanding
officer. And the Arcstone office in Philadelphia…
Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? Why the hell am I starting a
whole new chapter of my life down in Atlanta when Tala is here?
But of course Marcus didn’t mention it when he offered me the job. He
didn’t know about Tala then, because just like everyone else in my life, I
kept him at arm’s length while serving with him.
That’s on me.
I still find it hard to make the mental shift to considering him a friend—
to letting anyone in at all—but I’m going to have to, because that’s exactly
what he’s proving to be.
More importantly, if it lets me stay close to my little brother…
Tala steps out of the bathroom just as a brisk knock sounds at the door,
announcing the room service delivery. And fuck, I’m a goner.
 I’ll do whatever it takes to stay close to my little brother. Fucking
anything.
Whether or not I can keep my hands off him at the same time remains to
be seen.
OceanofPDF.com
 five
. . .
Like it always should have been.
~ Tala

“Y ou want me to stay ?” I blurt out after we ’ re done eating the

best meal I’ve had in longer than I can remember.
Bayani gives me a weird look. “Of course I do, Bunso. It’s late.”
Oh, right. I didn’t bring my bike. Bay has a rental car, and he’s not
going to want to drive all the way across the city just to take me home.
His hotel room isn’t just a room, though. I think it’s what they call a
suite. So besides the bedroom and bathroom, there’s also where we are right
now, which is like a mini living room with a wide, plush couch.
If I’m honest, I can tell from just sitting on it that it’s way more
comfortable than my lumpy old mattress at home, so it’s not like I mind
staying.
And by “not mind,” I mean the thought of spending the whole night this
close to my brother has my stomach filling with excited flutters.
I wonder how tired he is.
I wonder if I can get him to stay up with me for a while.
I wonder how long before he goes back to Atlan⁠—
“Come on,” he says, piling all our dishes onto the room service tray and
then taking it to the door.
“Where?” I ask as he sets it outside in the hall, because surely he
doesn’t mean out there. He just asked me to stay!
 Well, told me, really. Which was almost better since, then, I didn’t have
to wonder if he was just being polite, or whether or not I should actually say
yes.
He smiles a little, shaking his head at me fondly, and holds out his hand.
Holds. Out. His. Hand.
I lunge for it, clinging tight, and it’s only after he pulls me to my feet
that what he actually says registers in my mind. He wants me to share the
bed with him? Not sleep on the couch?
A full-body shiver rolls through me, heat flooding through my whole
body. I guess maybe we did that when I was a kid. It’s likely, actually, since
our family struggled financially and I very, very vaguely remember sharing
a bedroom with my brother. But I haven’t slept in the same bed with anyone
since, and the idea of being so close to him, all night long, makes me feel
kind of dizzy.
“Cold?” Bay asks, frowning at me. “Should we turn up the heat?”
“Um, no, I just...”
I don’t have any words, so I just cling harder, and he gives my hand a
squeeze as we enter the suite’s bedroom before he drops it to fish a soft pair
of new sweatpants he bought me out of one of the shopping bags from
earlier.
He hands them to me. For pajamas, I guess.
“Take these into the bathroom, Bunso. You can get ready in there. I had
the hotel send up a toiletries kit for you, so there should be a new
toothbrush and whatever else you need.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, grabbing the sweatpants and hugging them against
my chest as my heart feels like it might burst.
“Of course,” he says, a smile slowly growing on his face as he watches
me until he finally adds, “are you going?”
“Oh, right,” I say, flushing all over. “Sorry. I’ll just, um... yeah.”
 Oh God, I’m such a mess. I would legitimately have just stood there
making heart-eyes at him all night if he hadn’t said anything. He’s just...
He’s being so nice to me. And I love him so hard that I’m greedy for every
minute he’ll give me, so that even scurrying into the bathroom to change
and clean up for bed feels like too long to be apart from him.
I make it quick, though. Fast enough that by the time I’m done, Bay has
already changed into sweats, too.
Mine are blue, still my favorite color just like it was when I was a kid,
but his are gray. And clingy in certain, uh, places.
Thick places.
Long places.
Places I shouldn’t be looking.
But when I drag my eyes off those, uh, places, his abs are just... bam!
Right there, and just as distracting.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to look anywhere but at his bare,
lickable chest and his thick, muscular arms before I do something to
embarrass myself. Because yes, okay? I know I’m not supposed to think of
my own brother as lickable, and I... I wasn’t!
Not until just now, anyway.
But that’s not even my fault, right? I mean, I haven’t seen him in
forever, and now he’s standing there half naked and just, wow.
Did I know my libido would think guys were “wow”? Uh, not really. I
know that sounds weird, but I just... Don’t usually think about that stuff? I
mean, it’s not like I really have the time or energy to, you know?
But now that I’ve noticed Bay this way, by which I mean, now that my
dick has noticed Bay this way—which is totally wrong and something I can
never, ever let him know about, of course—I guess I’ll have to put a pin in
the idea that I’m probably gay, and come back to think about that later.
Like, when I’m not about to be sleeping right next to someone who I
already know I’ll have a hard time not accidentally wrapping myself around
and clinging to all night.
“Everything okay?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I mumble, my face getting hot again as I hurry into the bed, the
covers already pulled back, and burrow deep.
Oh, wow. It’s so much better than my crappy twin mattress.
It smells better, too, like the fresh, clean sheets and the fancy soaps in
the bathroom, and as Bay takes his turn in the bathroom, I almost forget
about all my inappropriate thoughts for a moment, the sheer luxury of being
so comfortable making my eyelids droop.
I’m practically asleep by the time the bathroom door opens, the light
turning off a second before Bayani slips into the bed next to me.
The bed dips with his weight, then shifts as he arranges himself. I can’t
see much in the dark, but he’s close.
Very close.
The heat of his body radiates along the whole left side of me, and it
feels so good to know he’s right there, the almost-forgotten scent of him
from my childhood mingling with the clean scents of the room and the
steady sound of his breathing next to me a comfort I didn’t even know I
needed, that I...
I can’t help myself.
I roll toward him, the covers bunching and making a rustling noise as I
wiggle in closer. Close enough that our arms brush.
Our legs, too.
“Bunso?” he murmurs.
When I don’t answer—because what am I supposed to say, that I want
to hug even though we’re in bed and supposed to be sleeping?—he
chuckles softly, the sound a rumble in his chest that I can feel against the
side of my face, since...
Okay, fine. My forehead is pressed to his shoulder.
And maybe my arm is flung over his chest now, too.
 “I missed you, too,” he says with a low chuckle, his hand coming up to
cup the back of my head like he doesn’t mind how clingy I am at all.
No, like... like maybe he even likes it, because he’s not just not pushing
me away, he’s sort of holding me there, his heart thumping out a slow,
steady rhythm under my cheek and the soft, tickly feel of his chest hair
making me want to rub my face all over him.
Or maybe more than just my face.
I don’t, though.
I’ve got some self-restraint.
But then he starts stroking his fingers through my hair, and a low moan
escapes me, my body turning liquid with the pleasure.
“Tala,” Bay groans, his fingers tightening in my hair and tugging.
“Sweet little monkey.”
I whine, pressing even closer as the tugging forces my head to tilt back.
The room is dark. Like, really dark, with thick black-out curtains that
shut out all the ambient light from the city. But it doesn’t matter that I can’t
see him. I still somehow know that he’s right there, his breath a warm
caress on my cheek and his lips so close I can almost taste the minty
toothpaste he used.
So close that I almost forget myself and give in to the unnatural
temptation to lift my mouth and press it to his.
Oh God, I can’t even claim any kind of self-restraint or the intervention
of good sense. It feels amazing to be so close to him, cocooned in the dark
and draped over his hard body. So amazing that my brain sort of shuts
down, or at least the part of it that should be reminding me that brothers
don’t do that sort of thing together.
So no, it’s definitely not good sense that stops me. It’s embarrassment.
I’ve never kissed anyone before and would be devastated to do it wrong
with him, the person I love the most, so I keep my lips to myself.
Unfortunately, that whole thing about being draped all over him? It means I
can’t keep other parts to myself, and I realize the moment he notices I’m
hard, because his whole body stiffens underneath me.
“Tala,” he whispers, his grip on my hair tightening just enough to send
exciting little shivers tumbling from my scalp down my spine. “You’re... in
need.”
“Sorry,” I say. I even mean it. Not that it stops me from squirming.
Whining softly as I rub against his hip in tiny, aborted little movements,
because it feels better than anything ever, and I can’t... I can’t help it.
And I definitely can’t stop it.
His breath shudders over my mouth, his hand still fisted tightly in my
hair and his lips almost brushing against mine as he murmurs, “Bunso, we
shouldn’t.”
My breath catches in my throat.
We?
I… I thought it was just me.
But then he reaches for my hip with his free hand, pulling me more
tightly against him, and I realize it’s not. I’m not alone. It is we.
Because my big brother is hard, too.
Hard, thick, and throbbing against my thigh as his hand slides around to
cup my ass and encourage my little thrusts, despite what he just said.
Shouldn’t isn’t can’t, after all, and yeah, I know we shouldn’t, okay?
But I need to.
I need him.
“Bay,” I gasp. “Bayani, please.”
I don’t even know what I’m begging him for, but every place he touches
me lights up with heat and joy and a fierce, zinging pleasure that I can’t get
enough of, and I want... I want more.
“I’ve got you, little monkey,” he whispers, his voice sounding hoarse in
the dark. “I’ll give you what you need. Fucking always, Tala.”
 I don’t even know what I need, but his promise takes the scared knot in
my stomach, the one that was getting tighter and tighter with shame over
this depraved lust that’s taken me over, and unravels it like it was never
there at all.
Bayani’s not mad. He’s... He’s helping. Rocking me against him.
Murmuring sweet nonsense in both English and Tagalog as his big hands
hold me against him and his lips skim like soft fire over my jaw and my
throat, trailing up to my ear where he says such deliciously filthy things to
me that I’m half convinced this is all just a fever dream.
Nothing, nothing has ever felt as good as being this close to my big
brother. Not even the times I’ve taken myself in hand can compare to the
pleasure building inside me as I grind against him, feeling clumsy and
needy and increasingly desperate, but... but loved.
It’s not just how good it feels on my dick. It’s how Bayani is making me
feel like there’s nothing wrong with me no matter how depraved I’m acting.
It’s how he’s making me feel loved.
“Bay.” My voice cracks. I want to say it. I want to tell him. I need to.
But then he flips me onto my back, moving my arms up over my head
and blanketing me with his body, and the whole world disappears.
All I can feel is him. Him… everywhere.
Chest to chest.
Thigh to thigh.
Cock to cock.
“Okay?” he murmurs, starting a slow, steady hip roll that makes it
impossible for me to answer, much less confess my love.
I want to, though! I want to give him anything he asks of me, to make
him proud, to tell him yes, yes, yes to everything.
But I can’t.
My whole body is trembling, the needy ache inside me growing until
it’s impossible to focus on anything other than the physical bliss of his
touch.
The friction. The pressure. The feel of him sliding over me, his body hot
and heavy, his warm skin turning slick with a thin sheen of sweat I want to
lick right off him. The feel of all his muscles, bulkier than mine and
deliciously hard where they’re pressed against me.
Holding me down.
Making me feel secure in a way I never have before.
“Bay,” I whimper, arching my back to get more of that full-body
contact. More of his touch. More of him. Just... more.
And he really is the best big brother in the whole world, because he
instantly obliges me, shifting his weight to the side and shoving his sweats
down to free his thick cock, then urging me to lift my hips so he can do the
same to me.
I’m so hard my dick aches, and embarrassingly wet as my need leaks
from the slit and makes a mess of his hand, but Bayani doesn’t seem to
care.
“Good, Bunso?” he murmurs, his voice sounding like a smile in the
dark.
I whimper in response, my eyes almost rolling back in my head as I
push my shaft against his hard abs, sliding it through soft body hair and
bumping it against his thicker shaft.
And then doing it again. And again. And again, because the feeling of
so much skin on skin is more intoxicating than a drug, and it takes me over,
making it impossible to stop.
Until Bay makes it even better, and makes me stop.
“That’s it, little monkey,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between us, his
knuckles grazing my balls as his other hand tightens on my wrists, holding
me right where he wants me.
Right where I want me, too.
 “I want you to keep making those pretty sounds for me, but you need to
let your big brother take care of you now. Can you be good and do that for
me, Tala?”
Yes. No. Maybe.
I want to.
I just don’t know what it means.
But then Bayani shows me. He wraps his big palm around both our
shafts at the same time, holding them tightly together as he starts stroking
us from root to tip, and I...
I...
My brain turns off.
All I know is that Bayani is touching me. And it’s the most intense,
most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt… and that goes so far beyond what he’s
doing with our dicks that it makes me feel like I’m floating.
It’s his weight pressing me into the mattress.
It’s the way he’s gripping my wrists like he doesn’t ever want to let me
go.
It’s the thrill of his rough calluses against my sensitive shaft, and the
way his strength feels like a shield between me and everything shitty in the
whole, wide world.
It’s his warm, minty breath and the way it starts getting ragged, choppy,
interrupted by quiet grunts and low curses that tell me he’s not just
indulging me. He wants this.
It’s making him feel good, too.
It’s making him...
He’s going to...
I’m going to...
“Bay,” I gasp, my balls tightening so fast I feel light headed. “I can’t,
I’m going to, I…”
 “Me too, Bunso,” he groans, his cock slick and hot and throbbing
against mine as his hand starts to move faster, his grip on us tightening
when he drops his face into the crook of my neck and pants with pleasure,
each breath sending a little jolt of raw need down to my balls.
I’ve never been this wound up before, this close to the edge without just
tumbling over it.
But I don’t want to disappoint him. I want…
I want permission.
“Can I?”
He shudders on top of me, then drags his nose up the side of my throat
like he’s trying to inhale me before sucking the lobe of my ear between his
lips.
Pleasure shoots through me so hard that I buck against him, almost
feeling like I have just come.
But not yet. Not until Bay says so.
“Please? Please, Kuya!”
He groans, rutting hard against me. “Fuck, yes, little monkey. Come for
me. Show me how good I’m making you feel. Be a good boy and cover my
cock with your sweet cum.”
I cry out his name, his dirty words and the pressure of his thumb
rubbing just under my cockhead making it impossible to do anything but
obey him.
Which is perfect, because that’s all I want to do anyway.
The orgasm he just said I could have, the most intense release I’ve ever
felt in my life, shoots through me like it’s always been his to command.
Or like… like it always should have been.
Oh God, I wish it always could be. I wish all my pleasure could belong
to Bayani, from now until forever.
I spill over his fist in an explosive torrent that has my back arching, my
fingers digging into his muscles, my eyes rolling back…
 I think I’m shouting.
My throat feels raw.
I can’t tell, though. The pleasure is so huge, so overwhelming, that it’s
all that exists. Exists, and goes on and on and on as Bay pulls out
everything I have to give, working me through it, holding me down and
stroking me even faster—stroking us together—until his cock suddenly
swells against mine.
“Tala,” he grunts, his voice a total wreck.
Then his mouth suddenly slams down on mine as his whole body goes
stiff, a low groan ripping out of his throat that I swallow down like a
starving man, shocked and awed that he’d give me such a gift.
He’s kissing me.
Devouring me.
And then I feel the hot splash of his cum over my stomach, and I have
no idea if it’s that, or the kiss, or just him, but something about the feel of
his seed spilling across my skin is so... so primal, so intimate, that a second
wave of pleasure slams through me.
I gasp into his hot, hungry mouth and start to shake underneath him as I
spill for him again.
The orgasm is smaller this time, a sharp little aftershock of pleasure so
intense it borders on pain, my balls already too empty and my cock spent
from the intensity of the first one.
But I wouldn’t care if it literally turned me inside out. He groans into
my mouth, sucking on my tongue and shuddering on top of me like my
pleasure is his pleasure.
Which it is. It’s all for him.
And even as it finally starts to mellow into a warm, languid afterglow, I
can’t remember ever—not ever—feeling this good before. Maybe because
Bayani doesn’t let me go.
 We’re wet—both of us slick with sweat and sloppy with cum—but I
don’t care. I love it. I love him.
Most of all, I love the feeling of being physically fused together,
touching everywhere, breathing in sync, skin to skin, heart to heart.
I want to stay like this forever.
And as tightly as he holds me while we both drift off to sleep in the
dark, no light available to shine on the hard truths I’ll have to face later—
like what happens when you love your own brother in unnatural ways, or
how heartbreaking it will feel to be alone again when he flies back to
Atlanta—with his arms wrapped around me and not even an inch between
us anywhere, I’m almost able to imagine that if I had the guts to ask if I
could stay with him forever...
He might even say yes.
OceanofPDF.com
 six
. . .
I can’t make myself call it a mistake.
~ Bayani

I feel so damn good when I wake up that my first conscious thought

is that I must still be dreaming.
But I know I’m not, because I don’t have dreams this good. Not ever.
I also don’t sleep with soft, clingy boys in my arms, and when I finally
open my eyes and find Tala draped over me like a human blanket, sleeping
so deeply, so peacefully, that he looks like a literal angel, it does something
to my heart that I’m not prepared for.
Of course I love him. I have since the day he was born. But that love
has been carefully tucked away and buried deep for years, calloused over
with layer after layer of… harder things. Armored things. Things I learned
for self-protection and to protect others.
But I don’t seem to need any of those things around Tala.
Fuck, I don’t want any of them. Not with him.
I want this.
And now Marcus has dangled the carrot of having it in front of me with
his implied offer that I could work out of Arcstone’s Philadelphia office
instead.
Tala sighs, shifting in his sleep as his eyes move rapidly back and forth
under his eyelids, telling me he’s deep in a dream. One that has the corners
of his lifts lifting up like it’s a happy one.
 I smile, too. Then wince, because when he moves just a little bit, the
dried cum cementing us together pulls on my stomach hair, reminding me
of what a poor choice falling asleep that way was.
Possibly not my only poor choice last night.
I just wanted Tala close to me. I wanted to hold him the way I used to
when he was small. The way that it felt vaguely inappropriate to do in the
bright light of day, when I kept finding myself a little too aware of how
beautiful he’s gotten as I replayed the feel of his firm body against mine
from the hug he’d given me back in his apartment.
He’s too slim—the boy needs to eat more—but he’s strong from all that
biking, and even if he’s grown now, he still fits perfectly in my arms.
So yes, I think my intentions were pure when I invited him to stay over.
I hadn’t planned on crossing any lines when I invited him into my bed.
But then I felt his arousal, and all my intentions and plans went right out
the window.
I love him. What else could I do?
But it’s wrong to love my brother that way, especially when it’s more
than obvious that he doesn’t have… experience.
My cock stirs at the memory of his sweet, clumsy enthusiasm and
shocked, needy cries and for a second, I’m tempted—so fucking tempted—
to roll him onto his back and repeat last night’s…
Fuck. I can’t make myself call it a mistake no matter how wrong it was.
Nothing has ever felt more right.
His cock was hard, and I gave him relief.
He needed me.
But goddammit, I can’t lie to myself. Neither one of us was thinking
clearly. That would have been impossible given how hard we both were.
But I’m still the one who should have known better. This isn’t on Tala, it’s
on me. I can’t imagine any twenty-year-old with an erection who would say
no to what I gave him in the heat of the moment.
 But no matter how good it felt, that doesn’t make it right. And when he
wakes up…
A sick feeling of dread settles in my gut, and I slowly ease him off of
me so I can slip out of bed without waking him up.
If it turns out that I pushed him into something he didn’t actually want,
I’ll never forgive myself.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I pad into the bathroom, the dried cum becoming
itchy enough to drive me to distraction.
Or maybe that’s guilt.
All I want to do is take care of him.
That wasn’t my intent when I first visited him on my way to Atlanta. It’s
been too many years since I’ve had to think of anyone but myself, and
every time Tala reached out over the years he sounded so upbeat and
cheerful that it never occurred to me he needed anything more from me.
But he does. He’s got no one in this whole fucking world who puts him
first.
I know how that feels, and I made my peace with it the first time Nanay
sat me down to explain just how sick Tatay was. I was eight, and I
understood completely.
Tatay needed her. We had extended family in the area, but they had their
own burdens to bear. I would need to look out for myself.
And I always have.
It was a hollow, ugly feeling as a child, a feeling that I never dared
name because I did understand, but the minute I came back here for Tala—
not that first time, when he stayed so sunny that he fooled me, but this time,
when I got to see just how desperately he’s actually been living in that
dingy little walk-up that should probably be condemned—I recognized it
immediately.
Recognized it, and wanted to fix it for him… the way he fixed it for me
simply by being born and giving me someone to love.
 But if I do stay here in Philadelphia, I’m not sure I can be a good
brother to him anymore. Not now that I’ve tasted his needy cries of pleasure
and felt his cock pulse in my hand when he comes.
Both things brothers can’t do with each other.
I kicked off my sweatpants in the night, so I’m already naked when I
flip the water on in the shower, standing over the toilet to piss as it heats up
and then stepping under the spray with my mind carefully blank.
I can’t think about how betrayed Tala might feel when he wakes up, or it
might gut me. He’s sweet, but not naive. He has to know it’s wrong, too.
Even if he clung to me last night. Begged and panted. Shouted out his
pleasure and then let me taste his mouth, plunge into it as I came all over
him, suck on his tongue the way⁠—
“Kuya?”
His voice sends a shock wave of pleasure through me, followed
immediately by one of guilt.
I yank my hand off my cock and whirl around to face him. And the
minute I see the expression on his face, the guilt snaps out of existence and
a feeling of bone-deep rightness settles into my soul.
Tala doesn’t feel betrayed. He’s not traumatized.
He’s happy.
His smile is a little bit shy and a whole lot hopeful, a blush coloring his
cheeks and his hands fluttering in front of his cock, trying to hide it from
me even as his hungry gaze zeroes in on mine.
He should never hide it from me. He should never hide anything from
me.
Tala is mine.
I open the shower’s glass door. “Come here, little monkey.”
I’ve only felt this sure about something once before, and it got me
kicked out of the army. But Marcus was right, defying that order saved
lives.
 I don’t regret it. It was right.
Just like this is.
Tala scampers across the floor and practically tackles me, sliding on the
wet tile once he steps in the shower and giving me the perfect excuse to pull
him into my arms again.
“You don’t mind?” he asks, breathless and fucking beautiful as I catch
him. “Even though, um…”
He glances down at his cock, blushing again.
I wrap my hand around it, sliding my fist up the stiff, throbbing length.
“Even though you’re hard for me again?”
“I shouldn’t be,” he whispers, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
“Right? Because… Because we’re brothers.”
“But who will ever take better care of you than your big brother?” I
murmur, nuzzling his neck and enjoying the way he melts into me.
I’m not stroking his cock, I’m just holding it. But the way it pulses in
my hand tells me, even before his needy whimper and nodding agreement,
that I’m right. Tala needs me.
And now that I know, I am never letting him go.
“No one,” I confirm, releasing his cock and turning him to face the wall.
“Now let me get you clean, Bunso.”
A beautiful shudder goes through him as I start to soap up his body,
smoothing my hands over his shoulders, then down his spine, and finally
over his high, tight, round little ass.
“Shhhh,” I soothe him when the slippery, wet slide of my fingers
between his cheeks makes him gasp and whimper. “I’m just washing you.
Nothing more.”
For now. But fuck, just brushing my fingers over his tight, furled pucker
makes my cock throb, and when he presses his palms flat against the tile
and arches his back, spreading his legs and pushing his ass toward me, my
cock jerks so hard I have to curl my hands into fists to stop myself from
taking him up on the silent offer.
Not here. Not now. Not the first time.
Especially not if it’s his first time.
So instead, I reach for the body wash again, filling my palm with the
fragrant stuff over and over, then rubbing it all over his ass and down his
thighs. Taking my time on every inch of his backside because touching him
is addictive.
The soft, silky feel of his skin. The sweet, quiet little gasps he makes.
The shivers, shudders, and twitches, his body so fucking responsive to
every brush of my fingers, every stroke from my hands, that I’m all but
certain no one’s ever touched him before.
And from now on, no one else ever will, either.
“Do you want to turn around so I can wash your front?” I murmur,
sliding my hands around his slim waist, then up to his firm chest as I press
up behind him.
He whines a little when my cock slides through the crack of his ass, the
head drooling against the small of his back as I fight the urge to rut against
him, but he makes no move to turn and face me. Instead, he lets his head
drop back against my shoulder, his eyelids fluttering closed.
“You... You decide, Bay. Please.”
I actually do need to clean his front, not just fondle him. He’s facing the
tiled shower wall, not the spray from the showerhead, and while the hot
steam surrounding us has loosened the dried cum on his body, when I brush
my fingers over his stomach, I still feel it stuck to the thin, dark happy trail
leading down to his treasure.
A deep, primal part of me doesn’t want to remove it. I want him coated
in my seed, claimed, scented, and marked like a wild beast.
“Kuya?” he says when a dark, lusty shudder rocks my body, trying to
twist around and face me. “Bay?”
 I turn him back toward the wall and pin him there, panting hard as I try
to get a fucking hold of myself.
“Stay,” I grunt, the raw, animalistic part of me wanting to keep him just
like this, caged in by my arms, ass out and positioned to be mounted.
I want to fuck him. Now. But I can’t.
There’s no way he’s ever done this before. The way he responds to me, I
highly doubt he’s ever done anything sexual with anyone... and I fucking
love that. But even if my cock wants to go wild and plow him like a beast,
my heart wants something else.
I need to make it good for him.
I need to show him what we can be to each other.
I need to take all the trust he’s given me and prove that I’m worthy of it,
which does not include taking his virgin ass with no prep in the shower.
I can wait. And in the meantime, I can do the job I intended to and wash
the cum off his warm, tempting little body.
“Be good now, little monkey,” I whisper, leaning in and dragging my
nose up the side of his throat, taking in the warm, sleepy scent that the
water hasn’t managed to wash away yet. “I’ll give you what you need.”
My voice sounds almost guttural, but Tala doesn’t seem to mind. He
melts back against me as I start to soap up his front, working by touch alone
as he stays where I put him, his palms pressed against the shower wall and
his sweet little ass cradling my cock as I wash the cum off his stomach.
Soap up his chest. Wash under his arms, slide my hands up his throat, then
move them down his sides to his slim little hips.
I don’t touch his cock.
Fuck, I don’t trust myself to. Not right now. Not without taking things
further than I should before we really talk about what’s happening.
Not whether or not Tala is mine now. He’s telling me that he knows he
is with every sweet, needy little sound he makes. With the way his body
instinctively moves to meet my hands, as if it’s greedy for every single
touch. With the way he keeps pressing his ass back against me, driving me
fucking crazy even though I swear he doesn’t realize what he’s doing.
And most of all, with the utterly trusting, soft, pliant way he puts
himself in my hands, letting me take care of him in the most literal sense
possible.
I know he’s mine.
But we still need to talk about what happens from here.
“Bunso,” I start, sliding one hand up to loosely grip his throat while
dragging my fingers over his budded nipples.
What I mean to say is that it’s time for us to get out, dry off, sit down,
talk before we fuck. But I don’t get the chance, because without touching
his cock, without any friction on it at all since his hips are thrust back, away
from the wall with his ass nestled against my groin, my little monkey makes
a sound that I’ve never heard from him before, one that’s pure need and raw
sex, and explodes.
“Bay,” he shouts as his cum splatters against the shower wall, his tight
little body writhing against me as his orgasm seems to come out of
nowhere.
He throws his head back against my shoulder, panting and gasping as
pleasure rips through him, taking him apart right before my eyes and
leaving us both trembling once his body finally starts to relax back against
me—Tala with the aftershocks and me with my self-restraint pushed to the
breaking point by the raw, innocent sensuality of his unexpected release.
Fucking hell.
I’ve never, I mean never, seen anything that hot.
And now I’ve got even more questions for him, because I don’t even
know where the fuck it came from… but I am damn sure I want a repeat.
A whole fuck-ton of them. Preferably for the rest of my life.
OceanofPDF.com
 seven
. . .
His, completely.
~ Tala

I want to feel embarrassed , but I can ’ t manage it when my whole

body feels like sweet, warm molasses.
Not from the orgasm.
Okay, kind of from the orgasm. But mostly from Bay.
When we met up in the diner on his layover to Atlanta, it felt like every
time he put his hands on me, my body came alive. And that was just a few,
brief touches on the back of my hand, and then that long, firm squeeze to
my shoulder.
Then he let me hug him yesterday, and I thought I’d died and gone to
heaven.
And then last night?
I shudder with an aftershock of pleasure. But as amazing as having him
hold me like that in the dark, hold me and touch me, it’s still nothing
compared to this.
Wet, warm, and wonderful. Skin on skin. His full body pressed to mine.
His hands all over me, stroking, touching, grazing, drifting…
Oh God, every inch of me feels like it’s suddenly come alive after a
lifetime of being in a skin-coma, and I could come again just from the way
his hand is slowly sliding down my throat, fingers drifting over my
collarbones, then sliding back up. Over and over, tracing my jaw at the top,
fingertips skimming my lips, his touch featherlight, but so intense that I
want to cry.
Tears of happiness.
No, wait. I don’t want to cry. I want to make him feel this good. And
even though I’ve never done it before, even though, if I stop to let myself
think too hard about it, I’m sure I’ll be sloppy, awkward, and clumsy if he
lets me try, I know exactly how I want to make him feel good.
And silver lining? With my skin tingling from his touch and my bones
melted into warm goo from coming so hard, I can’t think too hard about it.
My brain is offline, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to
push away from the wall, turn to face him, then sink to my knees.
Bayani’s hand stays loosely wrapped around my throat, but his eyes go
wide.
“Tala?”
“Please,” I whisper, the word coming out shaky with need.
He releases my throat and cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips as
his long, thick cock throbs right in front of my face.
I don’t dare take it, though. Not until he says so.
Or maybe it’s just that if he says he wants me to, it will make it even
better... the way everything suddenly felt ten times more intense when he
took charge of me, forcing me toward the wall, and told me to stay.
He pulls in a shuddering breath, staring down at me like a sex god as the
warm, wet water droplets run down his chest, catching in the hair and
looking like little drops of magic. “You really want to?”
My breath hitches, excitement racing through me. He’s going to say
yes!
I nod, and his dark eyes turn even darker with desire, his cock jumping
as he stares down at me.
Then, finally, he nods, too.
 “But go slow,” he says, his voice low and husky as his fingers brush
through my hair. “Savor it, little monkey. Suck just the tip to start, and use
your tongue to explore if you haven’t done this before.”
“I haven’t,” I admit, somehow not feeling shy about that, even though a
part of me feels like I should.
But I can’t, not with Bay looking down at me like I’m the best thing
he’s ever seen.
No one else has ever looked at me like he does.
And I don’t ever want anyone else to. No one but him, even though
we’re brothers.
But like he said, who else will ever take better care of me than my own
brother? And if Bay doesn’t think it’s wrong, then I don’t, either.
And I want to take care of him, too.
I lean forward, keeping my eyes locked on his as I do my best to follow
his directions. Darting my tongue out to taste the dark tip—warm water
from the shower and just a hint of salt—then sucking the fat head between
my lips, rolling it a little as pleasure floods through me.
This is Bayani’s cock. My big brother. My everything.
And the minute I taste him, I suddenly understand what it is I’ve been
missing all my life. I’m in heaven.
Bay makes a sound deep in his chest, something that could be a growl if
he didn’t cut it off. His fingers tighten in my hair, but he doesn’t pull. I can’t
even imagine he ever would. He would never hurt me.
Instead, he guides me.
“That’s it, Bunso. Your mouth is magic, little one. You’re making me
feel so damn good already. Now swirl your tongue and dip it in—unnngh.”
My eyes roll back, his pleasure becoming my pleasure when I thrust the
tip of my tongue into the slit at the end of his cock and get that sound out of
him.
 I did that. Last night he called me a good boy, and that sound? It’s like
he just said it to me again, but with his cock.
And I want more of it.
More of his cock. More learning how to please him. More chances to be
good for him, earn his praise, show him the best way I know how just how
much I love him. More, more, more.
I open my mouth wider, greedy for it, but when I try to take more,
Bayani pulls me off his cock.
“Slow,” he reminds me, his voice hoarse as he strokes my lips, looking
down at me so adoringly that I almost want to cry again. “You don’t have to
take it all yet, Tala. Just what you can handle. There will be plenty of time
for you to learn. Now suck.”
He guides his tip back to my mouth, and it feels like my heart is on fire.
Plenty of time? This isn’t a one-off? I’ll get to see him again, even after
he flies back to Atlanta?
“Tala,” Bayani growls, his fingers tightening in my hair even as he
smiles down at me. “Focus.”
I suck him back into my mouth and moan... and the vibration seems to
go through both of us, because Bayani’s body goes stiff, his eyes flutter
closed, and his hips snap forward as he bites off a curse.
It makes his cock go deep enough to gag me.
And I love it.
“Fuck, sorry,” Bay grunts, pulling back immediately.
I tighten my lips to keep him from pulling all the way out of my mouth,
staring up at him as I shake my head to try and tell him no, don’t be sorry,
do it more, I can take it. I want it.
And Bay really is the best brother in the whole world, because even
though my mouth is too full to actually say any of that, he gets it. He sees
me. He understands.
 And just like he promised me last night—promised and followed
through with—he gives me exactly what I need.
“How are you so perfect for me, little monkey?” he groans, cupping my
chin with one hand and placing his other on the back of my head. “Okay, let
me in then. Just a little deeper. Yes. That’s it, you’re doing so good, Bunso.
Keep using your tongue and let me use your pretty little mouth for what it
was made for.”
The filthy words send a shiver of need down my spine as he holds my
head steady and starts slowly thrusting into my mouth, his cock nudging
against the back of my throat and making my eyes water.
Oh God, he’s right. Of course he is. This is exactly what my mouth was
made for.
Actually, I’m pretty sure every part of me was made for Bay.
And I’ve never been perfect for anyone before, but he might just be
right about that part, too, because I’m definitely not perfect… but maybe I
can still be perfect for him.
Or at least let myself really believe that he thinks so.
“Just like that, Tala. You’re doing so fucking good for me,” he grunts,
thumbs coming up to wipe the water off my cheeks.
The rough calluses drag across my wet skin, and I whine for more. I
can’t even be ashamed of it.
I need his touch.
“Watching you cry for my cock is sexy as fucking hell,” he says,
bringing his thumb to his own mouth with a groan.
And he’s right. I am crying for his cock. My cheeks aren’t wet from the
shower, it’s from the way his thick cock keeps gagging me, the salty head
bumping the back of my throat until tears stream from the corners of my
eyes.
It makes me feel sexy.
And maybe, just a little bit... overconfident.
 I lunge forward, desperate to show him, to do better, to take more. To
prove that I really am a good boy for him.
But it’s too much, and this time I don’t just gag, I choke, my throat
spasming around his length and wringing a rough litany of curses from
Bayani as he grips my head with both hands, his cock swelling until my jaw
aches as he holds me in place.
My vision blurs, tears streaming as I stare up at him, and then he’s
suddenly coming, his shaft twitching and pulsing as hot, salty cum fills my
mouth, slides down my throat, gags me again because it’s too much, more
than I was prepared for, more than I know how to handle...
And so good that as his cum spills from the corners of my mouth, even
though I don’t, it suddenly feels like I’m coming again, too, whining and
lunging forward to gag myself even more as I stare up at him with my dick
stiff and leaking again just from the joy of servicing him, and my entire
heart in my eyes.
I love this.
I love him.
I love him.
“Fuck,” Bay pants, his voice jagged and broken as his cock gives one
more heavy pulse, feeding me a last, salty mouthful before he pulls out.
My head almost feels detached from my body, floating up in the clouds
of steam somewhere, and I can’t... I can’t move.
I’m boneless, drunk on happiness and incapable of doing anything but
basking in it.
But just like he keeps promising me, Bay takes care of me, keeping his
warm, dark gaze fixed on my face as he drops to his knees, too. Cleans my
face with his hands. Tips my head up as the shower turns from hot to
lukewarm, raining down on both of us, and then licks every drop of cum
from my mouth, kissing me so deep and dirty that I almost do come again.
 But then my dick bumps his leg and he groans into my mouth, wrapping
his hand around it like he owns it.
“For me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, shuddering hard at the simple joy of that truth.
“Good boy. Save it, little monkey. Don’t come yet. I want to play with
you later. But first⁠—”
His words cut off in a hiss as the water suddenly turns to pure ice,
making me squeak and jerk backward, almost smacking my skull against
the hard tile behind me.
But Bay gets there first, dropping my dick and catching my head in his
hand. Protecting me from myself. Guarding me like I’m precious… and
looking at me like I’m the whole dang world.
He wants me to save my hard-on for him?
It doesn’t matter how horny I am, or how badly I want to come again,
too.
I’ll do anything for my brother. I’m his now.
I’m his completely.
OceanofPDF.com
 eight
. . .
A dirty, perfect little angel.
~ Bayani

I’ ve always been better with actions than words , so as soon as we

get out of the shower and I get my clingy little monkey dried off, I leave
him to get dressed in the bedroom and take my phone to the suite’s living
room to call Marcus.
I pull up his number, but then hesitate for just a moment before hitting
the call button.
My intention is to feel Marcus out about staying here in Philadelphia.
And, if for some reason that doesn’t work out with the satellite Arcstone
branch they’ve got here…
Fuck. I hate not having a plan, but I’d give up that job and wing it if it
meant staying with Tala now that things have changed between us.
But maybe, instead, he’d want to come to Atlanta with me?
I swipe out of my phone app and pull up Google instead, because the
dream I thought my brother was saving for all this time—getting into the
Tyler School of Art and Architecture at Temple University—obviously
wouldn’t be possible in Atlanta.
But… huh. It looks like Georgia Tech is a big player for aspiring
architects, too.
“What are you doing?” Tala asks, padding out of the bedroom in…
Oh fuck, he’s trying to kill me, isn’t he?
 He chose to rifle through my suitcase instead of wearing any of the new
clothes I just bought him, and seeing him in nothing but my t-shirt—just
oversized enough on his slender body to hit the top of his thighs and tease
me into wondering if he bothered with underwear or not?
Hot doesn’t even begin to describe how my little brother looks, barely
dressed in nothing but my clothes.
I groan, my cock acting like I’m Tala’s age again instead of solidly in
my thirties… and definitely too old to get it up this quickly again.
Or at least, I thought I was.
I don’t know what my little brother sees on my face, but it makes him
blush and look down at himself. “Is, um, is this okay?”
“Better than okay, Bunso. Come here.”
He rushes to me, obedient as always, practically wrapping his whole
body around mine and clinging the way I fucking adore. But then he cocks
his head and takes my phone out of my hand so he can see the screen.
“Georgia Tech?” He looks up at me. “Bay, what is this?”
“I was looking at their architecture program.”
He freezes, his eyes going wide as the pulse thrumming through the
vein at the base of his throat starts to race.
“In… Atlanta?”
“That’s right.”
Fuck. I know he’s mine. Fucking know it. But we haven’t actually,
explicitly said so to each other… and a wave of something a lot like terror
hits me at the thought that he might not want to come with me after all.
But fuck terror. This isn’t the first time I’ve faced it down, and if I
didn’t let it stop me on the battlefield, I’m sure as shit not going to let it stop
me here, during the most important mission of my life.
“Did you still plan to go to Temple?”
Tala’s eyes go impossibly wider, but then he flinches and looks down,
mumbling something it’s impossible to hear.
 I tip his chin up, frowning. “Unggoy ko? Isn’t that what you were
saving up for?”
“I… I was trying,” he says after a minute. “I was, Bay! I just, I couldn’t,
um, I just never really seemed to make enough, and⁠—”
“Tala.” I cut him off as his voice starts to get high and frantic.
“Breathe.”
He nods, sort of doing it.
But only sort of, which makes me frown harder.
“I know money was tight. You were doing your best, and you’ve got
absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. But right now, I’m just asking if you
still want to go there. Is that still your dream?”
“Yes,” he whispers. “But I⁠—”
“No buts. Now you’ve got me to help make it happen.”
He blinks. “I… do?”
My heart squeezes so painfully hard in my chest that it feels like a fist
has a hold of it.
He doubts that? Even now?
Fuck, I may not be good with words, but for Tala, I need to get better.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, reassured by the delicious
shudder that goes through him, just like it has every other time I’ve put my
hands on his sweet, lithe body.
Hell, in the shower, I’m half convinced that he came from that alone.
Just from my touch.
But I can’t play with that until we sort this out, first.
“Yes, you have me now. Did you think we were just...”
I’m at a loss.
He blushes. “Making each other come?”
“I want more than that. I want you.”
“You want me in... in Atlanta? You want me to come with you?”
 I want him to come for me. Over and over and over, until his balls are
so empty they ache and his heart is so full he never feels alone again. But...
later.
“Only if you like Georgia Tech. Otherwise, we’ll stay here and get you
into Temple.”
I can see he’s about to give me another “but,” but he seems to catch
himself, remembering just in time that I told him we were done with those.
Good boy.
Fuck, no. Not good. He’s a perfect boy.
I kiss him for that, because I have to. And the way he melts against me
tells me that everything is going to be just fine once we work out the
details. It’s not that he didn’t want more than sex, it’s just that he wasn’t
sure he could have it.
But I’m fixing that.
“I have savings,” I murmur, “and Arcstone is planning on paying me
well. We’ll get you into the right school. All I need to know is where you
want to go.”
“But... But what about what you want?” he asks, his eyes still wide with
shock. Then he shakes his head, flushing deeply. “Wait, no. You can’t spend
that kind of money on me, Bay! That’s... That’s crazy!”
“No, crazy would be leaving you behind again, little monkey, and I
won’t fucking do it. Not unless you tell me you don’t want⁠—”
“I do,” he blurts. “I want you! I want to stay with you, whether it’s here
or there or anywhere. I just...”
He stops, chewing on his lip.
“What, Bunso? Tell me.”
“I just don’t want to be a burden,” he whispers.
“Good, because you’re not.”
I kiss him, swift and hard, to make my point, silently vowing to myself
to remind him as many times as it takes.
 And to do it with words, even.
I clear my throat, hoping to find the right ones. “Tala, once they pushed
me out of the Army I felt like I had no purpose anymore. I’m glad to be
going into protection with Arcstone, but it’s not enough. I was… I was
resentful that I’d lost my career, my purpose, even though I know I did the
right thing.”
His eyes are wide, and he hangs on every word.
“But I’m thankful now,” I murmur, cupping his face, running my thumb
over his lips, “because the Army kept me away from you, little monkey.
And now that we’re together, I see my purpose was always meant to be
you.”
“Me?” he whispers, his whole body trembling with emotion.
“You.” I smile at him. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”
He nods, then shakes his head. “I, um... lots of things.”
True.
“I told you I wanted to take care of you.”
He starts blushing again, and the slow rise of color is the most beautiful
thing I’ve ever seen. Probably because of the way his eyes start shining
with hope, too. Hope and...
Ah, right. More words.
“But do you know what I really meant when I said that?” I ask.
His cock twitches, bumping against my thigh, and his whole body
flushes with warmth as he sways against me. “Um, yeah, I... I think so.”
He thinks I’m talking about taking care of his carnal needs, and I
definitely fucking did mean that, and still do.
But that’s not all I meant.
“I meant that I love you.”
He gasps, and the look on his face is one I’ll treasure until my dying
day.
“You… love me?”
 Fuck. Yes.
So much it makes something ache inside me to hear him sound so
shocked.
“You reached out and found me when I thought you’d forgotten me.
And ever since, you’ve been sharing your heart with me non-stop, pouring
it out in every message for the last eight years. But in my mind, you were
still my bunso, my little brother, munting unggoy ko.”
His eyes get wider and wider with each word, fixed on mine like he’s
desperate to see for himself that I mean it.
And I fucking do.
“I didn’t realize it until I had you in my arms again, but you’re all
grown now, Tala. Still my little brother. The one I’ve always loved and
always will. But now you’ve gone and made me fall in love with you, too.”
He gasps, pure joy blooming on his face.
“I spent too many years apart from you,” I murmur, nuzzling his throat,
kissing his jaw, taking his mouth before finishing. “I don’t want to waste
any more. Not years, not days, not minutes. I want you to be mine, Tala. All
the way mine. And I want that forever.”
“I am,” he whispers, still looking shell-shocked in the very best way
possible. “Please, Bay. Please mean it! I am yours. It’s all I want to be.
Yours, always.”
“Mine… and an architect,” I tease him, my heart soaring.
But it’s not enough for him to take my cock so prettily and cling to me
throughout the night. I want to make all his dreams come true, too.
“Um, yeah, that too, I guess,” he says, smiling with his whole body and
blushing so prettily I can barely keep my hands off him.
So I don’t even try.
“I want… I want to be an architect someday, too,” he pants. “But...”
“But first you want to come for me again, little monkey?” I murmur
against his throat, dragging my mouth over his Adam’s apple as I push my
hands up his thighs, raising the t-shirt to reveal his pretty cock—already
standing at attention for me with his balls tight and swollen underneath,
telling me I’m right.
But my sweetling has other ideas. Better ones.
“Bay,” he whimpers, clutching at my shoulders. “I... I only want to
come when you say so. Only if you want it.”
Fuck, how can he be so beautifully innocent and yet such a dirty, perfect
angel for me at the very same time?
“You want my permission?” I double check.
“Yessssss,” he hisses, his hips thrusting into the air as I raise his shirt
higher, gliding my thumbs up both sides of the Adonis-V that frames his
leaking shaft.
“You want your big brother to be in charge of all your pleasure from
now on? You want me to tell you when to come, and when you can’t? You
want me to make you come, sweet Tala? Make you come for my own
satisfaction?”
He moans, his knees buckling. “Yes, Bay. Please, Kuya.”
I ease him back on the couch and remove the shirt he stole from my
suitcase, drinking in the sight of his lean body, laid out like an offering.
“You really are perfect for me, sweetling.” I run my hand down his
chest, tweaking a nipple and then smoothing the pads of my fingers over it
when he arches up, gasping. “But I only want you to come if you can do it
for me the same way you did in the shower.”
His eyes are already starting to become glazed with pleasure, and since
I’ve neglected his cock, it’s not physical. He really does want to belong to
me. That’s what excites him.
That, and the simple act of touching him... something I suspect we’ve
both had too little of in this life, because the feel of his smooth skin, the joy
of him clinging to me, the need to be closer is something I’m already
addicted to, too.
 “How?” he asks as I frame his ribs with my hands, watching his skin
prickle with goosebumps as I slowly slide them higher. “How, um, how did
I... did I do it in the shower?”
“You did it without any stimulation on your pretty cock. You did it
without anything breaching your tight little asshole. You did it just because
you knew I loved you, and because⁠—”
“Because you were touching me,” he blurts, his fingers digging into the
soft cushion, flexing and releasing, just like a cat. “I need you to touch me,
Bay. Anywhere. Everywhere. Please.”
“And this is why you’re so fucking perfect for me, Bunso. Because I
need that, too,” I groan as his eyelids flutter closed and his body moves in
an enticing, undulating rhythm as I drag my hands over every inch of him.
Every inch but the firm, throbbing ones standing upright between his
legs.
I want to see it again. I want to see if my sweetling can come with his
cock untouched again. If he’s really so starved for touch that my hands
alone can bring him all the pleasure he needs.
Hands, mouth, teeth, tongue... I use all of them, just not on his cock.
“Does this feel good?” I murmur, lifting one of his arms over his head
and licking my way up his side until I get to the dark thatch of hair there.
He shivers, whimpering softly as he nods, dazed-looking eyes locked
onto me and so sweet and sexy with his breath hitching at every new touch
and his whole body trembling for me while his cock drools and twitches
over his stomach that I’m not sure I’ll ever let him come. I want to worship
him, touch and taste and tease him, forever.
But when I reach for his other arm to guide it up and over his head, too,
my body stretched out over his and just as drunk on pleasure as he seems to
be, the head of his cock brushes against me, and with a sharp, shocked cry,
he comes.
OceanofPDF.com
 nine
. . .
Yes, yes, yessssss!
~ Tala

I meant to wait . I wanted to be good . I don ’ t even know what

happened, but with my whole body buzzing with the kind of pleasure that
makes my brain feeling floaty and drugged with it—the pleasure I’ve only
ever known by my brother’s hand—I’m suddenly covered in cum again, my
dick pulsing against my stomach and Bayani staring down at me in…
Oh.
Silver lining? That looks like awe.
He’s not even mad.
He likes it when he makes me come like my body knows it already
belongs to him. And the way he’s looking at me? Well, that and the fact that
he said he’s in love with me—a high I’m still riding—gives me the courage
to ask for what I really want.
And by courage, I mean he’s got me so cum-drunk and sated on his
touch that I’ve completely lost my filter.
“Fuck me, Kuya? Make me come on your cock this time?”
“You think you can, sweetling?”
I love it when he calls me bunso, his little brother, and unggoy, his little
monkey. I don’t want him ever to stop.
But sweetling?
Yes, please. Yes, always.
 That one makes me feel… feel loved. Not just as his brother, but as
more.
“I can do anything for you,” I whisper, meaning it completely.
He groans, pulling away to look me over with so much hunger and
adoration in his eyes that my whole body shudders as if I’ve come again.
I haven’t, though, and despite what I just said to him, I honestly don’t
know if I can. But even if he makes me do it dry, I want to.
For him.
But most of all, I want to know what it’s like to have his cock inside me.
“Are you a virgin, Bunso?” he asks, dragging his fingers through the
cum on my stomach and then easing my legs apart so he can rub it into my
hole. “Have you been saving this just for me?
“Yes,” I pant, my whole body lighting up as he touches me there,
igniting a needy ache that I already know only he can ease for me.
And it’s true. I didn’t know I was saving myself for him. I didn’t know I
was saving myself at all, too busy surviving to give it any thought.
But now that I know how thoroughly my big brother actually loves me?
My hole belongs to him and only him.
All of me does, body, heart, and soul.
“That’s my good boy,” he whispers, his gaze locked onto the filthy
things he’s doing to me. “Roll over and let me take care of you properly.”
I scramble to do it, hoping “take care of me properly” means stuff me
full of his cock.
But no, apparently it means... it means his tongue.
“Oh God,” I gasp, burying my face in the couch cushion as Bay’s hands
spread my cheeks and his mouth seals around my hole. The hole he just
rubbed my own cum all over. “Bay.”
He chuckles, hot and dark, then kisses it like it’s my mouth.
Deep.
Dirty.
 Wonderful.
I whine, ripples of liquid pleasure spreading through me, the same but
different from every other time he’s touched me. Just as hot. Just as intense.
But this also feels deeper, fuller, and... and just more.
“You like it, don’t you, sweetling?” he murmurs against the sensitive
pucker, kissing it again before teasing his tongue around the rim and then
plunging it into me again.
I nod, more needy, filthy sex-sounds clawing their way out of my throat,
until it finally gets so good that I have to bury my face in the couch cushion,
the things he’s doing to me stealing all the breath from my lungs and
sending all the blood in my body down to my aching dick.
Then he pushes a finger into me, too.
“Baaaaaaaaay,” I whine, clawing at the couch, but somehow still not
even getting enough leverage to thrust back against him the way I need to.
Need to.
It’s not his cock, and yes, I want that. But the way he’s fucking me with
his tongue? It feels amazing. So good, so deep and intimate and... and
wonderful, that I already know I’m going to love really being fucked by my
big brother.
Love it so much that I’ll be begging him to do it to me every single day,
for the rest of my life.
He groans as I writhe back against his hot mouth, his grip on my hips
turning almost punishing as his finger starts thrusting in and out of me right
alongside his tongue.
Then he groans, pulling his mouth away and spitting right on my hole
before pushing a second finger in, too.
I gasp, the burning stretch lighting me up in ways I didn’t know it was
possible to feel.
This. This is what I was made for.
 “Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmurs, his voice sounding almost as wrecked
as I feel. “Every single part of you is absolutely fucking perfect for me,
sweetling.”
He’s perfect for me, too.
I wish I could say so. I wish I had it in me to tell him.
But he’s overwhelming me, and all I can do is whine. But” —he pulls
his fingers out so abruptly that I almost sob from the loss— “there’s no way
I’m getting in there without lube. Come to the bedroom.”
Yes. That. Yes.
I scramble off the couch, stumbling as my feet hit the floor and almost
falling, but Bay is there to steady me, catching my elbow and laughing
softly at my eagerness. Even better, scooping me up like a bride and kissing
me while he laughs, carrying me all the way back to the bed with his hard
cock bobbing against the small of my back and a light in his eyes that I’ve
never seen before.
One I think... I think I might have put there.
Just like he put the same light inside me.
“Kuya,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on
tight. “I... I love you.”
He stares down at me, his smile turning gentle, and brushes a thumb
across my lips as he lays me out on the bed. “Say it every day.”
“I will,” I promise.
He kisses me, and when I’m dazed and breathless from his mouth, he
leaves my head spinning for a moment to pull out the lube he mentioned,
then pushes two fingers back inside me—slick and wet this time, and so
quickly that I shout.
“I can’t wait,” he murmurs, crooking his fingers to find something that
makes my vision go dark and my whole body jerk as pure, raw pleasure rips
through me. “I love you, too, you know. And I fucking need you,
sweetling.”
 “What,” I gasp as he keeps stroking that spot inside me. “Bay.”
“What is that?” he teases with another of those dark, sexy chuckles.
“It’s a special spot your body made, just so I can show you how much I love
fucking you.”
My dick starts to get hard again as he keeps playing with my ass, his
free hand wrapped around my thigh to keep me pinned in place and his gaze
locked on mine as he slowly fucks me open with his fingers, adding more
lube and another one. And then, when he’s got me sobbing with pleasure,
my dick drooling all over my stomach again as if getting to love him like
this has magically turned on a fire hose’s worth of cum production inside
me, he finally gives in to my begging and tells me he’ll give me his cock.
“Please, Kuya,” I gasp. “I want it. Want to be good for you. Want you
inside me. Want you.”
“Yeah?” he whispers, his voice as rough as mine, his eyes dark and
hungry, his body trembling as he finally pulls his fingers free and starts
slicking up his cock. “You really are mine. And fuck, sweetling, you’re pure
temptation, too. I want to do you so many different ways I can’t decide how
to take you this first time. How should I fuck you, little monkey? Do you
want to get on your hands and knees for me, so I can mount you and breed
you? Do you want me to take you slow, wrapped around me the way you
love to cling, letting me watch your face as you fall apart for me? Or should
I let you ride me? Do you want to be on top, Bunso? Take my cock at your
own pace this first time?”
I shiver, his words making me feel both vulnerable and powerful at the
same time.
I want all of those things, and more. I want him to fuck me in every way
possible for a cock and ass to come together. I want him to own me and
control me and cherish me and treasure me. I want...
I want...
 I want him to make love to me, which makes me blush with
embarrassment just for thinking something so silly and romantic about my
own brother.
Except that, well, I know he will.
Even if he plows me right through the mattress, fucks me like it’s porn
and he’s being paid to make me scream, it’s Bayani. He does love me. I
know he does.
So all of it is… is making love.
But this first time, I kind of want him to give it to me hard, fast, and
filthy.
What? I’m horny and he’s hot and I... I need him.
But there’s no way I can come out and just say that, so instead, I roll
over onto my stomach, get my knees underneath me and spread them wide,
then reach back and pull my ass open, face flaming with embarrassment but
dick so hard that it hurts.
“Fuck, sweetling,” Bay groans, his fingers digging into my hips. “You
want me to use you for my own pleasure?”
“Please,” I pant, burying my face in the pillows as he slicks his cock up.
“I need you. I need to be good for you. I need to be filled with your cock.”
“You will be,” he promises, pressing the blunt head against my hole.
“Every fucking day, Tala. Every single day from here on out. And do you
know why?”
He doesn’t make me answer. He just shows me, grunting as he finally
pushes into me, stretching me open even more than he had with his fingers,
until every single part of me burns.
Burns for him.
“Kuya,” I gasp, an illicit thrill heightening the pleasure of being filled
by him for the very first time.
He is my big brother, but calling him that while his cock is inside me
feels both forbidden and delicious, like loving him is a dark, decadent secret
that only the two of us can ever share.
It makes me feel special. It makes me feel even more connected to him.
It makes me feel loved.
And then he starts fucking me.
“That’s right, Bunso. You’re getting fucked by your big brother. Say it
again, Tala. Tell me you were born for this. Born to take my cock. Born for
me to love. Born for me. Made fucking perfect for me.”
“Yessssss,” I hiss, the word turning into a moan as the tip of his cock
nudges that spot inside me that lights me up and makes me feel like the
whole world could fall apart around us and I wouldn’t even notice.
No, like Bay is my whole world.
He’s not going easy on me. He’s fucking me just as hard, just as deep,
just as possessively dirty as I’d hoped for. Every thrust feels like it’s ripping
me open, sending a fierce, burning pleasure spiking through my whole body
that’s so intense it almost feels like pain.
And every thrust makes me feel closer to him.
Closer to coming.
Closer to flying.
It’s true, I really was made for him. And the feeling of rightness as he
keeps pounding into me is so intense that I know for sure that whether my
balls are empty or not, I’m about to come again.
If Bay says I can.
“Can I?” I beg, my cock slapping up against my stomach each time he
slams into my body, so swollen and stiff again that all it will take is one
word from him and I’ll do it. “I’m so close, Kuya. Can I come for you? Say
yes. Please, Bay. I need to. Please say yes!”
“No,” he grunts, pulling out of me so abruptly that I’m left gasping.
Then my world spins as he flips me onto my back, fitting himself back
between my legs and teasing my hole with his cockhead. “Not like that,
sweetling. Fuck, your ass is addictive. Every inch of you is. But I want to
see your face when you come for me this time. I need to know what you
look like when my cock makes you fall apart for me. Are you ready for
that? Are you going to be good for me and actually wait for permission this
time?”
He gives me a hot smile that lets me know he’s teasing, that he doesn’t
mind at all that he gets me so worked up I can’t wait even when I’m
desperate to.
But I answer him anyway, because this time I will.
“Yes,” I pant, stars in my eyes as he grins down at me... then pushes
back into me with a rough, dirty grunt. Filling me up again so dang
perfectly that I sob, clinging to him the way he’s let me ever since I was
little.
But… But different, too.
“Yes, fuck, tighten up around my cock just like that,” he groans.
“You’re a natural. You’re everything I need, Tala. Everything I could ever
want. You want to come? Let me stuff you full of cum and teach this tight
little hole who owns it.”
The words are utterly filthy, but the way he stares into my eyes the
whole time, his own expression looking so tender and full of love that I
can’t do anything but fall deeper and deeper into him?
Oh God, I’m not just in love with him. I’m...
I’m home.
He’s my home. Not Philadelphia, or Atlanta, or anywhere else we might
end up. All I need is my big brother.
He’s all I’ll ever need.
Well, him… and to come. Because this new angle he’s got me at has
him pounding into me just right, every slap of his balls against mine, every
thrust of his thick cock, sending me higher and higher. Closer to not being
able to wait for his say so before I go off again.
And even more desperate to do it anyway.
 “Oh God, please, Bay.” My voice cracks. He’s got me so tightly wound
that I’m shaking, sobbing, begging. “Please, please say I can come. Make
me come. Keep… Keep fucking me. Keep fucking me forever. I need it.
Need you. I… I love you. Please!”
I don’t even know what’s coming out of my mouth, but that doesn’t
matter because Bay seems to like it.
Which gets me even closer to coming.
He groans, his eyes blazing and his body flushed, hot and hard with
tension, as he slams his cock even deeper. “You need it, little monkey? You
need what I’m giving you? You need to come with your brother’s cock
inside you, so you never again doubt that you’re really mine?”
“Yes, yes, yessssss,” I pant, every muscle in my body coiled tight and
aching for release as the pleasure reaches a peak that’s almost painful.
One I’ll ride forever if he wants me to.
Or at least I’ll... I’ll try.
I’ll do anything for my big brother.
But thank God, thank everything, what he wants me to do for him—
finally—is to come.
“Do it, sweetling,” he rasps, his voice almost a growl as he bottoms out
in my ass and stays there, rolling his hips to grind against me, like he’s
trying to get even deeper. He tugs on my hair, forcing my head back, and
licks a hot stripe up my throat before he takes my mouth again. “Come for
me,” he pants into the kiss, his cock swelling inside me. “Come on my
cock.”
Then he pulls back once, and slams home, and I... I do.
I come.
I come hard, for him, because he said I could. Because he told me to.
Which somehow makes it so, so much better than any orgasm I’ve ever
had before that it really does wreck me. It wrecks me wonderfully.
“Bay.”
 I’m still coming when his cock hits that spot inside me again, and it’s
like a white-hot, mind-blowing, body-melting explosion of pleasure erupts
inside me, one that goes on and on as Bay keeps fucking me, keeps pushing
me higher and higher, for so long I think I actually pass out for a minute.
Then, with one last thrust, he groans and buries himself so deeply inside
me that when he floods my hole with his hot seed, I swear to God it feels
like it really is a claim, one that takes root in my actual soul… and grows
there.
The same way my big brother’s love for me does.
The same way my happiness does.
Every single day, for the rest of both of our lives. Forever.

T hanks for reading !

Here’s what’s coming next:
 You can also get a free book right now - and 50% off every new book
on its release day - by signing up for my mailing list!
(Your link to download I Licked Him, So He’s Mine will be in your
welcome email. Check your spam folder if you don’t see it after
subscribing!)

OceanofPDF.com
 about the author

Becca Vale likes her licorice black, her pizza with pineapple on it, and always puts the toilet paper on
the roll upside down.
She also writes filthy taboo gay smut.
Bring on the haters.

OceanofPDF.com
 loved this book?

Your reviews mean the world to an indie author like me, especially when
writing something that often gets censored by retailers (like taboo!)

For all of you who have already taken the time to leave reviews for my
other books, THANK YOU! ❤︎

If you had fun with this smutty little story, please consider recommending it
to others, and leaving a review on Goodreads, Smashwords, or itch.io (or all
three!)

And if you loved these boys a LOT? Or just want to support my bad habits
*ahem* I mean, help a girl turn her filthy little pastime into a full-time gig,
you can now buy me a coffee (and be my favorite forever!)

OceanofPDF.com
more from becca vale
Free gift to newsletter subscribers:
I Licked Him, So He’s Mine

The Belonging to Uncle Bane duology:

Reward For Time Served
Payback & Retribution

The Inmates of Pen-grass Penitentiary Series:

Big Brother’s Prison Bitch
A Very Good Boy
Taking His Breath Away

Other taboo titles:

Black Out Birthday Boy
Fake It Until You Make It
Come On, Let Me See It
Drink or Dare Daddy
Crash and Burn Baby
Embracing the Dark Side
Sleep Tight Little Bro
All We Want for Christmas
Thicker Than Water
Hijacking His Baby’s Cock
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
Practice Makes Perfect
Big Brother Knows Best
Only Dan’s
Anger Management Issues
Gay For Pay
Dirty Wet Bastard
Traffic Violations
Twinning is Winning
Only One Bed
Head of Household
Triple Play
Nip It In the Bud
Murder Twins
Little Brother’s Bedtime
Bodyguard Brother
Rule of Thirds
Lessons Learned
Surprise Me
Grandpa’s Perfect Boy
My Brother’s Fluffer
Initiating the Twink
No Pain No Gain
Beast Mode
Keeping Him Stuffed
Doubling Up
Doing the Heavy Lifting
Good Boy, Now Fetch
Sweet Like Sugar
Finding My Other Half
Breeding His Toys
Impulse Control
Touching the Wrong Twin
Honeymoon Suite Revenge
 Training the Twins
Dirty Old Man
It Doesn’t Count If You Don’t Touch It
Oral Fixation
Little Brother’s Bathtime
Possessed by My Brother’s Dead Boyfriend
While He Was Sleeping
Always Watching Over Him
Swiping Right On My Brother
Giving Him the Soft Touch He Needs
Two Kittens for Grandpa
Meeting His Needs
Merry Fistmas
Sounds Good, I’m In
Marshmallow Fluff
Joined at the Tip
Healing His Heartbreak
Saved from the Chastity Cult
Crying for Uncle
Good Things Come in Threes
His Practice Valentine
Truth or Dare
Not Like the Other Boys
Too Good, Too Much
The Missing Piece of Me
Under His Care
My Big Brother’s Keeper
Little Brother’s Happy Time
Shipwrecked With My Twin
Praiseworthy
 Good Things Come in Small Packages

Find additional taboo smut titles on Smashwords and itch.io.

OceanofPDF.com
 Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever
Becca Vale publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.

https://books2read.com/
r/B-HH-TSDAB-
KLSHG

https://books2read.com/r/B-HH-TSDAB-KLSHG

Connecting independent readers to independent writers.

OceanofPDF.com