Not The Sun - 4. Chapter Four: Close Encounters

04 ~Close Encounters~

Brandon wasn’t sure how he could handle Monday at school, but it didn’t end up being that difficult. The long sleeves of his school uniform and a couple wrist bands hid his bandages well enough if he was careful and Keith wouldn’t even look at him. He sometimes felt like he might have felt someone’s eyes on him, but whenever he looked up, Keith was always looking somewhere else and in some cases, Keith wasn’t even in the room.

Great. He was turning paranoid.

The only difficulty that morning was Andrew, who physically slammed Brandon up against his locker and called him every name in the book for leaving the rave without telling him, and for not answering his phone the following day.

“I was worried sick, you thoughtless fuck,” Andrew snarled. “I finally had to call your fucking mother to make sure you were at home and not lying drunk in the street somewhere.“

“Sorry,“ Brandon said weakly, feeling very small. “I was sick."

“Don’t let it happen again.“ Andrew’s grip on him loosened. “I was really worried about you, man. You look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

“I’m fine,” Brandon snapped defensively. Andrew held up his hands in a gesture of placation. “Just worried about you man. Excuse the fuck out of me then.” He turned on his heel and headed to his first class.

When Brandon opened his locker at the end of the day, a note fell out, landing near his feet. He picked it up, unfolded it and read it quickly, his eyes skimming the unfamiliar handwriting.

We both know you liked it. Meet me in the back parking lot and I will take you all the way.

He felt his stomach grow tight and cold. The note wasn't signed, but he sure as hell knew who had left it there. He looked up, saw Andrew approaching and quickly stuffed the note back into his pocket.

“Hey. Ready to go?” Andrew said, their earlier altercation completely forgotten. Brandon loved that about Andrew, he never held grudges.

“Um...yeah,” Brandon said, averting his eyes. “I forgot to tell you, but I’m heading home with a classmate to work on a project for class. I meant to tell you earlier; I guess I just forgot.”

“Okay. Hey, no problem. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” Brandon echoed. Once Andrew was gone, he threw his books in his locker, shut and locked it and headed in the opposite direction. He opened the door and walked into the back parking lot. He looked around and could see Keith sitting on the trunk of an old rusty car, lighting up a cigarette. Keith looked up and saw him, smiling slowly.

“Hey,” Brandon said uncertainly, holding his bag in one hand, the other one nervously pulling on his tie.

“Hey. Get in,” Keith said, jumping off the trunk and walking around to the driver’s side of the car.

They pulled up into the driveway of Keith's house and walked inside. Brandon's eyes swept the interior, picking up on the threadbare furniture, a scrawny cat curled up in a corner and a general state of disrepair.

“C’mon,” Keith said, walking through the small living room and opening up a door leading to an even smaller bedroom; the walls covered with posters and drawings. He shut the door, threw the lock and turned to Brandon, pressing him up against the wall.

“Do you know what you’re doing here, what I‘m going to do to you?”

“Yes,” Brandon croaked.

“Good.” Keith kissed him, rough and hard and wet, the taste of tobacco on his tongue as he pressed it past Brandon’s lips into his mouth. Rapid, nimble fingers unbuttoned Brandon's shirt, pulling it off impatiently. Those same fingers slid up Brandon's chest, rough thumbs brushing over Brandon's nipples, bringing them into hard aching attention. Brandon let out a muffled sound against Keith’s mouth, protest or encouragement he couldn’t tell, nor did it matter. Hands were all over his chest, rubbing and teasing, until Keith was backing away, towards the bed, pulling Brandon by his belt. Brandon stumbled over his own feet, arousal making him clumsy, finally falling ungracefully onto the bed with Keith, who pinned him down, straddled him and unhooked his belt with uncanny speed and ease.

“You’re going to get fucked, pretty boy,” Keith whispered into his ear, catching the lobe in between sharp teeth and giving it a vicious tug. “How do you want it? Hard and fast? Slow and gentle?”

“Does it matter?” Brandon answered. His face burned and his heartbeat pounded in his temples, keeping steady rhythm with the pulsing below his belt.

“Not really. I'll take you any way I want to.” Quick, light fingers unzipped his jeans, the rasp of the metal sounding loud in the silence broken only by panting breaths, the slide of skin against skin. Keith reached up to tug his own shirt off, and when Brandon reached up to touch him, Keith took his wrists and pressed them back down onto the bed, leaning forward to kiss him again. As soon as Keith released his wrists, Brandon's hands came up again, reaching out. Keith grabbed his wrists again, pinning them over his head.

"Cut it out," Keith growled. "Just lay back and relax. This is my show."

"Get on with it then," Brandon retorted.

"Damn, you're mouthy," Keith said, kissing him hard. "Maybe I should gag and cuff you if you're not going to behave, hmm?" He grinned and laughed when he saw Brandon's expression. "Here." He pulled Brandon's hands up until they came in contact with a series of long iron rods at the headboard. "Hold on here. If you let go... I'll stop."

Brandon swallowed, tightening his grip on the bars. It was more a veiled threat at this point than a last ditch escape option; Brandon had no doubt that Keith would follow through. He shut his eyes and focused on breathing as Keith slowly removed his shoes and pulled off his pants and underwear, feeling embarrassment creep into his skin as his erection was revealed.

"Nice," Keith murmured, palming his cock and gently kneading the hard flesh. "I like seeing that you're so excited over me."

"Fuck you."

"Nope, sorry, not today," Keith said, giving Brandon a hard squeeze, enough to hurt and bring tears seeping into his eyes. His other hand went to Brandon's knee. "Spread your legs," Keith commanded then leaned down and bit the inside of the thigh gently when Brandon acquiesced, before skimming his lips up his erection and swallowing his cock. Brandon gasped and his grip on the bars tightened. God, this was so wrong, so fucked up and felt so unbelievably good. Keith's mouth worked Brandon's shaft for several minutes before releasing his cock and moving down, licking and sucking at his balls. Brandon bit his lip. It felt strange, but not in a bad way. But when Keith's mouth continued on its downward trek and he felt something warm and wet probing at his opening, he let out a shocked cry and pulled his hips up and away. Keith grabbed his hips, held them still, even as Brandon writhed and bucked.

"Take it easy and behave," Keith said. "You're going to need all the lubrication you can get from me. Be grateful I'm not taking you dry."

"That is disgusting," Brandon gasped.

"Deal," Keith said. "Or leave." He waited for a moment and Brandon closed his eyes, keeping his hands locked around the bars. Feeling Keith's mouth down there had just made it crystal clear to Brandon that this wasn't some sick game Keith was playing; he was actually going through with it. Sex. And not even normal sex, but gay sex. But he wouldn't let himself let go, wouldn't let himself call it off. His pride kept those damnable hands clenched tight around those bars, wouldn't give Keith the fucking satisfaction of seeing how badly this bothered him, freaked him, terrified him. Not to mention he didn't think anything short of a nuclear bomb going off next door would stop Keith now. He tilted his head back, swallowed the tears and told himself to endure... Keith had extended the invitation and he had accepted it. No one was to blame for this but himself.

Brandon heard Keith rummaging around and a few seconds later, his mouth was replaced by a slick finger, probing at his opening before sliding inside. Brandon gasped and jerked at the intruding digit, clenching up around it, and Keith pushed it further inside. Brandon couldn't keep himself from squirming a little. It didn't hurt, but it just felt so fucking strange, invasive, to have that finger in there. Keith added a second finger and Brandon twisted and groaned, heels digging into the bed as Keith worked them in and out, stretching him, and then Keith's fingers hit his prostate and Brandon cried out as a jolt of sweet singing pleasure went through him.

"Oh God," he moaned.

Keith grinned. "Like that?" he asked, pushing his fingers in again, hitting that same spot. "Hmm?" He pumped his fingers in and out, bumping that spot each time.

"Yes... God... yes."

"Mmm... I like it when you talk like that." Keith removed his fingers and tore open a condom. He settled himself over Brandon's body, pulling up on his legs. "I'm going to fuck you now. You can scream if you want."

What the-

Then Keith was pushing into him and Brandon's teeth clicked together and pressed hard as his hands tightened so severely, his fingers ached and burned. God, this was not fun, this was not cool, Jesus fucking Christ, this hurt.

"Christ," he ground out. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, tears spilling down his face and still the pain continued, continued, burning there inside him. He felt like he was being torn apart from the inside. Keith braced himself on his elbows above him, panting.

"I'm in," he said. "God you feel so good, so tight and... ahhhh... hot." He jerked his hips forward, pressing even deeper and sending another splash of bright hot pain through Brandon's ass.

Keith paused for just a moment, letting Brandon get accustomed to his size, but not waiting for the pain to fade before pulling out and thrusting back in. The pain was still there, burning and pressure and hurt. And something else. Keith pulled out and thrust in again. This time Keith changed his angle to hit Brandon's prostate and Brandon couldn't stop the long moan that tore from his throat. The pain was getting less and less intense, while the pleasure was building up deep in his stomach, coming up and ready to erupt with every single thrust against his prostate.

Brandon found himself out of control, squirming and thrusting up and pleading inarticulately as Keith fucked him. "God, God, God, please."

Keith grinned and pulled on Brandon's nipples. "What? What is it?" he asked, teasingly.

"Just... God, touch me," Brandon finally managed.

Keith slid his hand over his erection and began pumping it in time with his thrusts until Brandon was thrusting up hard, his cum bursting out in thick streams, spilling over Keith's hand and his own stomach.

Keith continued to pump and thrust, leaning down and biting hard at Brandon's neck, his thrusts growing harder and more erratic before he climaxed, his body tense and stiff as he buried himself deep inside Brandon's heat. He collapsed on top of him, Brandon's legs sliding down to rest on either side of his hips. They stayed like that for a few minutes, catching their breath with sweat cooling on their skin. Brandon unlocked his hands from the bars of the bed, his fingers feeling sore and stiff.

"What's up with your arm?" Keith asked, picking his head up and sliding out of Brandon's body.

Brandon followed his gaze and saw that Keith was staring at his arm, wrapped in a heavy layer of gauze.

"It's a fashion statement," Brandon lied.

"Yeah, well, your fashion statement is bleeding."

Brandon shifted and saw the deep crimson soaking through. "Get off of me," he snapped, and Keith got to his feet, heading to another room that Brandon guessed was a bathroom. Brandon got up and gathered his clothes, getting dressed in record time. He glanced at his watch. It was getting pretty late. He would be hard pressed to beat his mom home.

Keith came back in, apparently not at all self conscious about his nudity. He picked up his pants, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket and lit up. "You're in a hurry," he observed.

"I have to get home to keep an eye on my sister."

"Hmph." Keith pulled his pants on and yanked his shirt up from the floor. "I'll drive you. C'mon."

Brandon was quiet on the way home. He didn't feel much like making conversation. Keith didn't push his luck.

Brandon had a surprise waiting for him when he walked through the door... Leia, sitting primly in his living room. "Hey," he said, forcing a smile. He wished he was happy to see her, but right now all he wanted was to be alone.

She smiled back at him, peeking up at him from heavily lined eyes. "Hello."

"Brandon!" Kelly marched in from the kitchen, brimming over with furious indignation. "I had to let myself in the house today. With the spare key."

"Sorry lil' pup," he said. "I had something I had to take care of after school." He pulled her into a brief, one armed hug. She hugged him back then pulled away, wrinkling her nose. "God, you smell," she announced.

Brandon felt a flush of embarrassment coupled with mild panic. "Thanks, sis," he said sarcastically. "Run off while I contemplate an appropriate revenge for embarrassing the hell out of me in front of company."

Kelly stuck her tongue out at him before scampering back into the kitchen. He turned back to Leia who was watching Kelly through the doorway.

"How old is she now?" Leia asked.

"Eleven," Brandon said.

Leia smiled. "If I have this baby, it'll be her age while I'm still in my twenties. Do you know that when it gets to be my age, I'll be thirty three? I used to think that was so old."

"Sounds like you're thinking of keeping it," Brandon said, a heavy feeling settling in his gut.

She shrugged. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I need to figure something out. Soon." She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did at Alexis' party. You were right, you know; I was behaving foolishly and recklessly. I just..." She walked to the window, looking out. "I kinda wish I would miscarry, just so I wouldn't have to make the choice. Pretty cowardly of me, huh?"

"Not really," Brandon said, praying that he was saying the right thing. "It's a hard choice, a difficult decision. I don't envy your situation at all."

"Can you keep a secret?" Leia asked softly. "The guy that got me pregnant.... I think I still love him a little bit. And I think maybe, if I have this baby, he'll change his mind and want to be with me again. That he'll stop denying...." She swallowed. "This is a part of him, too, that's growing inside me, whether he wants to believe it or not." She looked at him, her face naked with open hope. "Do you think he might change his mind?"

God, how could he say this with her looking at him like that? Still, he made himself shake his head. "No. Leia, I'm sorry, but no, I don't think that's going to happen."

Leia tried to smile. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Oh Princess," Brandon said, his heart breaking, and stepped forward. Leia wrapped her arms around him, clinging tightly as though her life depended on it, her body trembling with quiet, shaking sobs. "It's okay... we'll make it okay.... shhh, don't worry."

"I-I just don't know what to do... for me or the baby."

"All right. All right." Brandon pulled away. He knew he had the smell of Keith all over him. He felt sore and disgusting and exhausted. He wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a good solid night of sleep. With maybe a shot of vodka to help it on its way. But Leia needed help. "Come on upstairs. Let's talk about this."

Leia sat on his bed, wiping at her streaming eyes. "Sorry."

"No, no," Brandon said, handing her some tissues. "Don't apologize."

"I cry all the time. I think it must be the hormones. I'm not usually like this."

"I know. It's okay." He pulled a flask out of his dresser drawer, carefully stored under a pile of mismatched socks. "I'm here. I'll listen. Here, drink some of this."

Leia arched her brow. "You're the one who bawled me out for drinking in the first place."

Oh yeah.

Before he could realize his mistake and take it back, she already had the flask in her hands, taking a tiny sip and giving it back. Brandon, temporarily unsure of what to do, took a drink himself.

"Thanks," Leia said. "I need someone to talk to. I-I couldn't go to Andrew. He loves me dearly, I know, like a sister or something... and he's so protective, like you are with Kelly, maybe."

"Yeah." He remembered the way Andrew had picked Leia up and cradled her in his arms when she first told them she was pregnant.

"I tried to talk to him, but all he can focus on is the father. He keeps on trying to get me to tell him who the father is so he can go and, you know, beat him up or something." Leia rolled her eyes.

"Do you want to tell me who the father is?" Brandon asked.

Her face got hard and cold. "No."

"Okay." It was worth a shot, he thought.

"I thought about asking Alexis for advice, like as another woman, but I just.... I've been getting this weird vibe from her lately. Like she looks down on me or something for what I did." She shrugged. "You didn't seem too surprised or shocked when you found out. I thought, you know, I might be able to talk to you. I was actually a little pleased about what you told me at the party. It was the first time someone spoke to me about the fact I was pregnant as if it was a real deal, instead of something you had to tiptoe around whenever I was close by. And you weren't afraid to tell me to stop fucking around... You didn't treat me like I would break or blow up if you said the wrong thing. You treated me like normal, I guess."

Brandon stayed quiet. Leia was content to just talk and he was fine to just let her. Hopefully it would make her feel better.

"I still haven't told my mom. I never knew my father. I don't want my child to go through the same crap I did growing up, but I can't force the father to come forward. I'm not sure if I even want to. But I don't think I'm ready. I really want to keep it, but I don't think that it's the best choice for this baby. I want to keep it so bad, but I don't think a single mom without even a high school degree is what it needs."

"So, are you aborting?" Brandon asked tentatively. If she was, then that would solve part of the deal he had made with Jordan.

"No!" Leia looked shocked and horrified. "I would never! This is my baby and I love it and I want it to have the best life ever. So... I want to give it up for adoption."

"You do?"

"Yes." Leia nodded. "I think it's best."

"Sounds like you already know what to do," Brandon said, feeling relieved.

Leia nodded again. "Yes. I suppose I just needed to think it out. But... I need some help. That's another reason I came to see you. I want you to help me find a family."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Leia, I can't-"

"Why not?" Leia interrupted, so quickly that Brandon knew that she had expected him to protest.

"I can't decide who should adopt your baby. That's a deeply personal decision, one that you should make," Brandon said. Despite being Leia's friend, he didn't want to have to get any more involved in this whole scenario than he already was.

"I know, but--" She shook her head helplessly, then looked back up at Brandon, scrutinizing his expression. "Giving up this baby is so hard for me. I don't know if I could handle trying to figure out who to give it to as well. Not alone; not without some help."

"And I don't think that you should do it alone," Brandon agreed. "But I don't think I'm the one-- Maybe your mom?"

"I-I'm not sure if-- I'm afraid to tell my mom that I'm pregnant."

"Well, she's going to figure it out sooner or later. You're going to get big," Brandon pointed out.

"I know, but-- She was always telling me to be smart, to not turn out the way she did." Leia stood up and paced his tiny room nervously. "I'm afraid once she finds out, she'll be angry... maybe even kick me out."

"Well, I don't know about that," Brandon said. He approached Leia and put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her pacing. "But you need to tell her. If things don't work out, you know you can come here and stay with us, or at Alexis' house. And if your mom won't help you, then I might try to help you find a family. But stick with your mom first. She needs to know."

"You're right." Leia leaned her head back, letting out a long breath. She closed her eyes and smiled. "How'd you get so smart?"

Normally he would have answered that with an off color comment like "by eating the brains of young children", but he thought the current circumstances made that a little too inappropriate, so he just said nothing.

Leia leaned into Brandon and hugged him. "Well, might as well bite the bullet. I'm going to go home, cook dinner then talk to my mom when she gets home from work." She took a deep breath then reached for Brandon's hand. Brandon took it and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll leave my cell on all night." Brandon promised. "If things get ugly, just call me and me or my mom will come and pick you up, all right?"

"All right."

There was a gentle knock on his door and his mom opened it, looking inside. "Brandon... Hi, Leia," she said, seeing her standing there.

"Hi, Mrs. Williams."

"I need to talk to you, Brandon, when you have a minute."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Williams, I was just about to leave," Leia said.

Brandon got up. "I'll walk you out."

He followed Leia downstairs, giving her a fierce hug before she opened the door. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" he said.

"Promise. Thanks for everything today," she said, then opened the door and left.

Brandon watched her pedal away on her bike, then turned away from the door. His mom was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Brandon."

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I know that you are a young man and can make your own decisions, but I don't think it's appropriate for someone your age to be in your bedroom with a young lady with the door closed."

He felt his face heat up as he realized his mom had jumped to a perfectly valid, although completely wrong, conclusion. "Mom, it was Leia. We're not-"

"I know you're not, which is the only reason I'm letting it go. This time. But while you live under this roof, I don't want you having a girl up in your room while I'm not home."

"Kelly was right downstairs-"

"I don't care. Only while your father or I are in the house, and I don't want the door shut, ever. Am I clear?"

"Sure thing, Mom."

"Okay, honey."

He trudged back upstairs to go shower. In any other circumstances, he would have found the entire conversation funny, but considering what he had done that afternoon with Keith, it carried a heavy sense of foreboding, like a warning, perhaps. Don't let girls into your room when I'm not home, young man, and don't accept rides home from young boys and let them throw you onto their beds and fuck you.

He turned the hot water up high and stepped under the steaming spray, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. He couldn't get over what he had done, in what he had willingly participated. He swore after Alexis' party that he would kill Keith if he ever tried to lay a finger on him, and then what did he end up doing? Going home with him. Brandon opened his mouth, let it fill up with hot water, then spat it back out on the shower floor. Everything about it was wrong, except for.... Brandon closed his eyes again, lathered up his hair with shampoo. Except that it felt wonderful. If nothing else, Keith had experience, knew how to make the body pinned underneath his sing with pleasure. And those silly notions like self respect and pride had no place in a situation where fingers and tongue and teeth could make you scream and beg; it felt so good.

He felt himself growing hard just from the memory. He rinsed his hair and soaped up his hands let them slide down over his stomach and hips to grip his cock, which was already semi-erect. He worked his hands in a steady smooth motion, his breathing growing heavy and ragged, steam resting softly against his skin as hot water pounded on his shoulders and back. He moaned, tossing his head back, hot droplets splashing against his neck and running down his chest as he pumped himself furiously, precum leaking out of the tip. He remembered Keith's voice, hot against his ear... You’re going to get fucked pretty boy... He let out a choked cry, pushing up onto his toes, squeezing hard until he came, spurting cum all over his stomach and splattering on the tile of the shower floor. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, letting the warmth of his orgasm ebb away along with the failing hot water, before scrubbing off quickly and turning off the shower.

His orgasm left him feeling cold and disturbed, because when he had come, there had only been one face that had sprung to his mind. Not his celebrity of the week, or the centerfold spread out. It wasn't Keith, which, while being disturbing, would at least have been understandable. No. He saw Jordan.