The Brothers

CW: mention of sexual assault

I’d had a crush on him since I was teen. He lived on my street, five years older, which felt enormous back then. To me, he was dazzling. Sandy blonde hair. Hawaiian shirts, like Leonardo DiCaprio in Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. A big vocabulary to match. We liked the same books. We liked the same music. I’d message him about whatever Murakami I was reading, and he’d post me new novels he thought I’d love. 

I harbored a smaller crush on his brother, too. Andy. Andy was even older, a budding actor, tussled bad-boy thespian. He commanded the room the same way Wes did, with language, presence and height. And that same sandy blonde hair. Sometimes I’d go into the cafè he worked at down the street, just so I could look into his eyes and for a few seconds, his attention would be solely on me. But Andy felt truly out of reach given his age, and my connection with Wes was stronger. 

Wes and I were flirtatious pen pals for years. Until one summer, he came home from drama school and kissed me. 

It should have been everything I’d fantasized about. I’d imagined this happening for what felt like my whole life. But in the months before, I’d had a nonconsensual sexual experience, and my body had started reacting to intimacy with fear instead of desire. So, when Wes kissed me, I felt myself shudder.

I ran.

For years I worried that I was incapable of receiving love, that my aversion to intimacy meant something inside me was fundamentally broken. It was only later, when I began to understand how the body can react after non-consensual sex, that I realised my survival instincts had intercepted me that day, with him. It wasn’t because I didn’t have feelings for him, my body was trying to keep me safe in the aftermath.

In many ways, I felt robbed of a future with him.

Eventually, I told Wes everything. Once the pieces had come together, I knew he needed to know. I didn’t think it would mean we could be together, I knew that moment had long passed. But I hoped it might heal some of the unspoken wounds between us. And it did.

After I told him, he hugged me. Held me tight. He apologized for the world being such a cruel place. For not knowing in the moment. We managed to make our way back to an unbreakable friendship after that. 

And now here we were again, locking eyes in a bar in our hometown. 

He stood up to hug me, smiling. “Laura! Babe! It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

Years after I moved away, we reconnected. Whenever we were in the same place, we’d meet for a coffee, a beer, a picnic in the sun. Sometimes it felt like old times — flirtatious, exhilarating. Other times it was awkward, like there was some unspoken tension still hovering between us.

I was recently single. He was, too. I was happy to see him. And happy that he seemed genuinely happy to see me. I hugged him back.

Not long after, Wes’s brother Andy arrived. My inner teen girl was screaming.

As Andy sat down next to me, I found myself sandwiched between him and Wes; a position my wildest teen fantasies hadn't even conjured.

“Laura,” Andy said, tucking his long blonde-streaked hair behind his ears. “When did you get so beautiful?”

I felt my cheeks flush and remembered what I was wearing: a backless leopard print jumpsuit. Red lipstick. No bra. My waist-length brown hair had gone slightly curly from an earlier beach swim. I did feel beautiful.

And I’d changed a lot since he’d last seen me. My figure had filled out, boobs, hips, thighs that touched. I wasn’t a self-conscious young woman anymore. I knew my worth, my power, my beauty. 

“Charming as ever, Andy,” I said with a smile.

The drinks arrived and I felt the first one slide easily into my bloodstream. Then the second. Conversation loosened. Laughter stretched wider. Andy seemed to be getting closer and closer — his knee brushing mine under the table, his hand lingering when he passed me my wine glass. He looked at me like he was seeing me properly for the first time.

It seemed Wes and Andy each held something for me. They represented a world beyond our small hometown and also a memory of my innocence—when crushes were sweet and yearning and everything felt possible.

I noticed Wes watching us with an amused calm. And a curiosity. The room got slightly warmer. Or maybe that was just me. 

I found my mind whirring with confusion. I was initially so happy to see Wes—I hadn’t expected there to be a vibe between Andy and I. The hope I’d held out for his attention was always fleeting and indulgent. It certainly didn’t hold the same pressure and potential that I felt with Wes. But he’d walked into the room with a sex appeal that seemed directed towards me. And despite an inner moral compass questioning my instincts, I didn’t want to shy away from it. I wondered if Wes had noticed his brother’s energy, too.

I looked from brother to brother, trying to figure out the vibe. In response, Andy leaned toward me, his voice low enough that it belonged only to us. “You’re trouble tonight.”

“I’ve always been trouble. Just ask Wes.”

Wes disappeared briefly to the bar and when he returned he bent slightly so his mouth was near my ear. “Do you want to go around the corner and make out?” He asked it casually, but there was an air of him cutting in on a dance.

As we slipped out the side door I glanced back at Andy. Then Wes pulled me into the dark stretch beside the building, the bass from inside muffled by brick and night air. His hands were firm at my waist. His mouth was hungry in a way that made my stomach drop. 

The magic of something being both nostalgic and also right now enveloped me. I exhaled his name like I was remembering how it sounded in my mouth. I leaned into the kiss. Indulged myself, finally.

We came back to the table, my lipstick slightly smudged. Andy clocked it immediately. His eyes darkened with a kind of devilish hunger.

“Bathroom?” he asked, already standing.

Wes looked him dead in the eyes. For a second I got worried. But he didn’t look mad.

He held Andy’s gaze for a moment, then slowly shifted his eyes to me, waiting for my response. It felt like permission. Or maybe playful competition? Either way, I took it.

“Sure.” I said, slowly. 

Oh, it was on. 

The fluorescent light was harsher there, but it didn’t matter. He locked the door and pulled me toward him, backing me gently against the cool marble of the vanity. His mouth was hot, urgent. One hand braced beside my hip, the other sliding lower, testing the space between us, feeling the heat he’d already helped build all night with nothing but suggestive eyes and close proximity.

I couldn’t believe how intuitive it felt to kiss him. I’d always had this thing with Wes — this history, this connection, this gravitational pull I’d carried since we were teenagers. He was the one I’d set my sights on. And yet kissing Andy felt just as natural, just as electric.

It felt almost too good to be true.

When we returned to the table, the vibes had heightened.

Did they know how I felt about them both? Had they ever done anything like this before? Had they… maybe… planned it?

There was some competitive tension between them, sure, but it didn’t feel hostile. If anything, it seemed to heighten the sexual tension that had suddenly taken hold of the three of us.

I took a sip of my drink, then looked at both of them.

“I think we should go somewhere,” I said firmly. “Together.”

They looked at each other, a flicker of surprise passing between them. Then something like agreement? I held my breath. 

Wes leaned back in his chair. “Family home’s empty,” he said carefully. “No one’s there.”

My pulse thudded. Something about being with them both in their childhood home made this even hotter.

~~~

I was holding both of their hands as we walked in. It felt surreal. Cinematic. Like I’d stepped into a version of my teenage diary and found it rewritten for my sexed up adulthood. 

These two men, who had occupied so much of my adolescent fantasies, were standing in front of me, taller and broader now. They were looking at me like we had all finally arrived.

When I’d dreamt about each of them in my youth, I had never imagined us all together. But since then, my desires and fantasies had become more complex—I was now a woman who took risks and loved to find pleasure outside societal bounds. I love being a yes girl. Doing it for the story. I love being surprised by myself.

Wes guided me to the edge of the bed. I sat down, obediently, hungrily. Andy closed the door behind us. 

Before I could make any moves of my own they were both kneeling in front of me, unbuckling my heeled sandals. Each of them slid one off with surprising care, almost reverence. I was too stunned to speak. A soft sound escaped me. 

As I surveyed my current situation, I ticked a mental tally list on how this experience would be one for the books: I loved how similar they looked. How passionately they approached me. How comfortable they were with making space for each other. How they held me with firm intention. How they moved around me like they’d practiced it together some time, in preparation for this moment. How they spoke their desires out loud. How they asked for permission. 

Wes looked up at me, a grin appearing on his face. 

“She likes us already,” he said to Andy, his gaze still on me. 

Andy lifted his gaze too, slower, steadier.

“We like her, too.”

I’d never been in a room with that kind of confident masculine sexuality before. Turns out, there’s nothing quite so alluring.

I felt my underwear dampen beneath me in response. I wanted them to ravage me. I wanted to watch them compete for me — for my body, for my pleasure.

Wes climbed onto the bed behind me, wrapping his legs around mine. He pushed the straps of my jumpsuit off each shoulder and began kissing my neck, my shoulders, the length of my back. I arched into him, resting my head against his shoulder as his fingertips traced slow paths up and down my arms.

Andy positioned himself between my legs, gently opening them, his hands sliding beneath my thighs to peel the rest of my jumpsuit away. I could feel his breath there, warm and steady. The anticipation alone made my body pulse. I wanted to pull him closer, but I held still. I wanted to see what he would do.

He started with the inside of my thighs. Soft, slow kisses that grew wetter, more deliberate. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, his face hovering close, close enough that I could feel the heat of him.

“God, you’re delicious.”

The way he said it — low and gravelly — made me gasp before he even touched me with his tongue. When he finally did, it felt warm and intentional. 

Behind me, Wes’s hands found my breasts, moving from soft to firm, kneading, squeezing, testing the edges of sensation. When he pinched my nipples with force, the firmness made me jolt before I leaned into it. The sharpness melted into heat that travelled through me, down my stomach, pooling low.

Andy looked up briefly, eyes broody, before returning to me with renewed focus. He thrust his tongue inside of me, warm and steady. Wes’s hand followed the same path his kisses had taken, sliding lower, finding me, pressing between my legs with purpose. 

One brother was behind me, his arm snaking across my chest and down onto my wet, swollen clit, while the other brother was beneath me, in between my legs, inside of me. I felt this moment of awareness, wedged between them so harmoniously. I could feel Andy’s tongue catching Wes’s fingers, but it didn’t distract either one of them. They were laser focused on my pleasure, on how my body was responding to the blended sensations of them both. 

They had a natural rhythm between them — Wes; slow and steady, Andy; quick and teasing. It mirrored their energies in real life. Wes had always been a slow burn. He was consistent without intensity. You could always rely on him to show up but not take over. And although I knew Andy less, I’d always recognised his artistic charm. He was quick to please, to amass an audience. 

My body began to tremble. I tangled my fingers in Andy’s hair, holding him there.

“Faster,” I whispered back to Wes.

I was suddenly desperate for the sensation to go deeper. I could feel my legs widen, my body open up. I felt gooey beyond reason. Like I wanted them both to disappear inside of me, that I couldn’t get enough of them on my skin. I felt my overwhelming wetness and warmth as my heart began to pound and my hip muscles tensed…

I came a few seconds later, my body trembling into them both. Pleasure rolled through me in waves, pulling me open, then leaving me weightless. I felt the space between my thighs widen into Andy’s upturned face and my body collapse back into Wes’s firm grip. I was breathing loudly, heavily.

“Fuck yes, Laura,” Andy breathed as he flipped me over onto my stomach, propping my legs into a kneel on the edge of the bed. “I want to be inside of you.”

I let him slide in. He’d earned it. His cock was thick, long and hard. “Fuuuuck. You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he said, speaking to all my teenage desires as he thrusted into me with hard intention. 

I moved my attention to Wes, who was kneeling before me, also hard, grazing my lips with warmth. I took him in my mouth. He groaned. “Fuck. Laura.” 

Each of Andy’s thrusts forced me onto Wes’s length in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. But I loved it. I could feel him pulsing inside of my mouth, aching to be further and further in. I wanted to swallow him whole, to thank him for loving me, to show my gratitude with my tongue, to make up for lost time.

I looked up at his face as he grew in my mouth to see him looking down at me intently, with passion. Something in his eyes made me soften even more. Appreciation, perhaps? Raw desire? 

“You need to stop,” he said softly, “or I’m going to cum in your mouth. Like right now.”

I slowed down and let him out, moisture dripping from the corners of my mouth. I let it fall. I wanted him to see how much I salivated for him. He put his fingers in my mouth in response. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. 

And then he was down next to Andy, taking his rightful position inside of me. Andy had made me soft, had melted the lining of my sacred walls, ready for what came next. 

He pulled out slowly, for Wes. I could feel my body tremble with anticipation as I waited for him to enter me. The build up had been years in the making. I wondered if he would feel as good as I’d imagined. If we’d fit together like we were always supposed to. I closed my eyes in waiting. 

Wes glided inside of me with wet hunger. With the yearning of a body that had ached with unrequited desire for too long. He moaned as the entire length of him fit inside of me. He took his time. He savored the moment. 

Andy had made his way underneath me, grabbing my breasts as Wes pumped faster and faster inside of me. The harder Wes thrusted, the harder Andy grabbed me. Wes’s vigor brought out a new side of him. A bold, passionate side. No holds barred. He slapped my butt hard. It stung and I gasped with excitement. He groaned in response.

“You like that?”

“Yes. Slap me again!”

“Yeah?”

He slapped harder. 

“More?”

“Yes! More!”

He slapped me five times in quick succession. The heat of his hand burned the inside of my groin and I could feel my pussy widen with pleasure. 

Andy’s hands were wrapped around my throat now, with gentle care, but also with force. 

“Tell me if this is okay.”

“I love it,” I said, raising my eyes to look at him.

And I did. I loved all of it. 

I was living out a fantasy so wild I’d never even dared to fantasize it. Desired by two men who’d felt unattainable since childhood, here, now, servicing me, together. My mind was blown.

“I’m going to fucking cum…” wailed Wes with urgency. I could feel him swelling inside of me, getting bigger and bigger, and longer and harder as he grabbed the edges of my curvaceous hips so tightly I thought the flesh would melt off into his hands. Andy’s grip tightened around my neck with one hand, the other finding my swollen clit which he held down with pressure as Wes came, creating immediate ripples in my body. 

I came onto Andy’s hand just as Wes pulled out of me, spraying warmth all over my butt, moaning loudly “fuck Laura, oh fuck…” and then: “I fucking love you.” 

I gasped for air. Trembled with pleasure. My heart was racing with the physicality of it all. And the emotion. What he’d said. I knew he meant it. 

“I fucking love you, too.” 

I collapsed into a heap between them. Three, sweaty breathless bodies.

Photo by Anthony Tosello