Chapter 1: That Night

Andy looms in the doorway, his shadow enveloping his brother Nicholas on the bed.

“Am I disturbing you? I hope so.”

“ ... Did you need something?”

“The more important question is, what do you need?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s going on with you, bro? Why do you come in here and hide almost every night when you get home? I feel like I live alone in this house. And why are you not eating?”

“Work’s been stressful of late, Andy. That’s all.”

“Your work has always been stressful. You get too involved with those kids ... you take it home with you. It wears you down. I don’t think you have the temperament for it. You’re too sensitive, Nick.”

“Maybe. But I can’t quit now.”

“ ... I’m gonna make supper and you’re gonna eat it. Understand?”

“Andy, I’m so tired...”

“You’re tired because you don’t eat! You look like a fucking Tim Burton character!”

“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Okay. Okay. Easy now. I didn’t mean to offend you, bro. You just worry me is all. You’re so damn pale! Have you gotten any sun this week?”

“It’s November. There is no sun in Ohio in November.”

“Well, yeah, but ... still. Look. At. You. You’re skin and bones. No muscle tone at all.”

“You have enough of that for both of us.”

“When was the last time you did a push-up?”

“High school.”

“Right. See? You gots no muscle, bro! I’m taking tomorrow off and I’m gonna make you eat a goddamn balanced meal and do some push-ups, maybe even throw you around a little in the gym!”

“No, you won’t.”

“Wanna bet? Don’t think for a minute I won’t carry your sorry ass down to the gym if need be.”

“Andy, that’s not your job. You’re not my guardian anymore.”

“You may not be a kid anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna watch you waste away. You’re still my brother, and still my responsibility. Like it or not, I ain’t gonna stop being there for you and seeing that you’re taken care of.”

Nick shields his face with his hands.

“Hey ... what have you done with my little brother? Huh?” Andy sits on the bed beside Nick and gently strokes his back. “This isn’t you. You never show ... defeat like this. You’re the ice princess, buddy. I’ve never known what was going on in your head, since you were little. Still water.”

Nick doesn’t move.

“Talk to me, man! I’m not gonna let you just lie around wasting away in here like some Victorian invalid who’s too weak to get out of bed! Something is really, really wrong—has been for months—and I want to know about it! I’m not gonna leave you alone till you open up!”

Still no response from Nick.

“Nicky, when was the last time you went out and had fun? To the club with friends, karaoke ... shows ... you love theatre. Or played music out? Even the piano here? All you do is sit at home and hibernate. Maybe write or work on your art projects. You’re super talented in all that, but you need human interaction! The last time Kent was here, you didn’t even come downstairs. He asked if you were all right.”

Nick turns his face away.

“Yep. The ice princess. You never let anyone in. Honestly, ever since Mom and Dad died I’ve felt like ... you’re there, but not really there. It’s like there’s been a wall between you and me, like losing them made us—polite strangers—most of the time, instead of bringing us closer. I miss them too, Nicky. But it’s been nine years.”

Nick’s face crumples and he begins to sob.

“Hey ... hey ... whoa, there, bro. Hey, don’t cry. It’s all right.” When Nick sobs harder, Andy puts his arms around him and pulls him close against his chest, gently holding his head against his shoulder. “C’mon now, man, come on. Let it out. It’s alright...”

“Andy, I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I’ve never tried to shut you out. I couldn’t face life without you!”

Andy squeezes him tightly. “Then stop trying to suffer through it on your own, man! You have me, Nicky! I’m right here! You’re my little brother and I’m never gonna let anyone else come between us! So, talk to me, alright? Let me in, you stubborn-ass punk! What’s happening to you? Where’s this coming from?”

“I can’t ... I can’t...”

Andy is very worried by now. The adult Nick has always kept a good poker face, and so crying like he is denotes a serious problem. Andy gently draws back from his brother, lifts his head and puts a hand under his chin. “Hey. You can tell me, man, alright? You can tell me anything and everything. Whatever is making you this miserable ... I wanna know. And I’m gonna help you through it.” Andy’s worry grows as Nick just keeps sobbing. He gently pats his brother’s hair. “Dude, I can help. I can handle it. I’ve been taking care of things since we were teens. Whatever’s going on, I just need to know about it. The not knowing is gonna make me crazy. Please, man ... talk to me.”

Nick shudders, sniffs, and seems to struggle to get hold of himself. “Andy ... please let me sleep. I’ll ... I’ll talk with you later. I will. I promise.”

Andy’s natural protective instinct is screaming at him to make Nick talk to him now, immediately. But he can see that his brother is too emotional. He sighs and gently rubs Nick’s back. “Okay, man. Okay ... you rest. But you’ve got to promise you’ll talk to me when you get up. You gotta promise to eat, too. I’m gonna go make supper. You hear me? I wanna hear you promise, Nicky. Or I’m gonna get mad.”

“I promise.” Nick’s voice is weak. He suddenly clasps his hand at his groin and turns the other way on the bed. He pulls his knees up in a fetal position.

Andy is disturbed by this. It is the movement of a young child, not his talented, even-tempered, often infuriatingly independent brother.

Nick turns slightly to reach out and grasp Andy’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you. I’m sorry.” He is weeping again.

Andy is still overcome by shock and emotion from what he has recently observed. He gently squeezes Nick’s hand. “Don’t apologize to me, baby brother. We’ll get through this thing. I swear.”

Andy has made dinner and now taps on Nick’s door to find him sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, facing away. He lays a comforting hand on Nick’s back, and he flinches.

“Hey ... hey, it’s just me. It’s just your big bro, okay? Look at me, man.”

Nick peers up at Andy, his eyes huge in the shadows around them. “Okay. I’ll try to explain. But before I do, I want you to know I have a bag packed and I’ll get out tonight if you tell me to.”

“ ... WHAT? What are you talking about? What do you mean you’ll get out tonight? What could you ever have to say that would make me want you to leave?”

Nick jerks his head convulsively toward the door. “Can we go downstairs?”

After surveying the enormous bowls of homemade mac and cheese and the liberally topped salads on the kitchen table, Nick shakes his head slightly. “Oh, man. You so overdid. I can’t eat all that.”

Andy flashes a steely glare at his brother to complement the strong, one-armed hug he offers. “You will eat. Damn it. If I have to feed you like I used to when you were little.” As a child, Nick had also refused to eat a good amount of the time. Only Andy had ever had success getting him to swallow food through his patience and tricks.

“I need an aspirin.” Nick opens the cupboard above the sink.

“What for? You got a headache?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, get it and then sit down and eat.”

After taking the painkiller, Nick sinks into a chair with his head in his hands, long, tangled hair spilling over them.

Andy is getting each of them a glass of ice water, his gaze mostly on Nick. “It’s probably because you’re hungry. Pills are for the symptom, not the cause. You take away the cause, there’s no symptom.” He is devoutly against use of “unnecessary” medications, believing that people can conquer most any condition or pain through simply taking care of themselves properly. Which is why Nick chooses his next words with such care.

“Andy ... you’re not going to like this, but I want you to know before I go any further. I’ve been on Wellbutrin for two months. It’s to stabilize my mood swings—”

Andy pauses in the act of pulling out his chair and frowns at Nick in disbelief. “I know what it is,” he snaps. “A lot of my clients are on that crap. Why are you on it, and where are you getting it?”

“I’ve been going to a therapist. She sent me to a doctor.”

“A therapist.” Andy spits the word. He doesn’t think much of psychology either, claiming that an ounce of common sense and one good friend are enough to alleviate most any mental condition. “Okay. Now, you’ve gotta spill. No more disclaimers. What the hell is going on?”

Nick takes a drink of water, the ice cubes tinkling in his visibly shaking hand. Andy’s face twists with compassion. His protective instincts are kicking into overdrive. God help whoever is behind his little brother’s distress.

“I started seeing Nancy because ... there was something I couldn’t deal with alone anymore.”

Andy nods, indicating that he is listening, although he feels like roaring at Nick for thinking he couldn’t confide in him rather than a stranger.

Tears begin to roll down Nick’s face again. “Andy, haven’t you ever thought I was weird? The way I like musicals, and old Joan Crawford movies ... and such?”

“Why would I think that’s weird, buddy?”

“Everybody else did. Mom and Dad. Your other friends, sometimes.”

“That was their problem. If you call that stuff weird, our parents had no stones to throw, because they were as eccentric as eccentric gets. And my friends were always batshit crazy, especially when they got high. Still are. So why should you care what they think?”

Nick wipes away tears with the back of his hand even as he chokes on another sob. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to let down. I’m so ashamed. You know I dated some girls. It was a long time ago, though. In high school, you used to ask why I never asked any girlfriends over. Mom and Dad did, too. You were inundated with attention.”

It is true. Andy has always been the popular one, the sought-after one, although he has never looked down on his brother for his introverted, even reclusive ways. He has certainly done his best to bring him out of his shell, sometimes all but dragging him to various parties and events, but he has never ridiculed or thought less of him for keeping to himself.

Nick’s words spill with whitewater urgency now. “You were always so good to me, Andy. You were more of a parent than Mom and Dad ever were. Dad treated everything as a joke, and Mom ... didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Nothing unpleasant or personal with her. Andy, you helped me learn to ride a bicycle. You helped me with my homework. You taught me to throw a baseball when all the kids said I threw like a girl. You taught me to drive. And when I wet the bed, you never made fun of me and helped me hide it from Mom.” He was sobbing again. “You taught me about the birds and the bees. Dad never taught me anything, When I got stains on my sheets ... the other kind ... I ran to you hysterical thinking I was dying and you ... you calmed me down and explained. I’m sorry if this is gross. I just want you to know how much I love you for being there for me always. More than anything else. Oh, God...”

Andy slowly stands up and moves around the table toward his brother. He places both hands on his shoulders, aghast at how thin and fragile they are. Again, he knows that something is wrong. Seriously wrong. This isn’t just emotional—

“I’m sick, Andy.” Nick blurts it as though compelled by some great, long-term pressure within.

Andy’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

Nick’s head drops forward to his chest. “Oh, Andy, Andy, Andy ... don’t you see it? Don’t you see how sick I am?”

Andy leans over Nick and places his head on his. “I know you haven’t been yourself in months. You’re exhausted. Worn down. But whatever’s behind it ... I need to know so I can help you.”

“You can’t help me with this...”

“I beg your goddamn pardon.” Andy gives his brother a rough shake. “Don’t you dare underestimate me. Now, talk. Talk to me. Spill. No more stalling.”

“I ... I have...” Nick’s face collapses before he can say more, his mouth drawing down in a rictus of grief.”

Andy sinks to his knees and strokes his brother’s tear-streaked face. “You have ... what? Tell me, Nicky.” He feels a tear dribble down his own cheek but doesn’t react.

“I have ... I have feelings for guys, Andy! I ALWAYS HAVE!!!” Nick dissolves into sobs so powerful that they wrack his whole body.

Andy’s face registers incredulity, but no hint of revilement.

Nick is hyperventilating now. “I’m sorry ... I’m so sorry ... that’s why I packed the bag. And I’ve been looking at apartments. I think ... I think I found one.” Mixed tears and mucus are cascading down his face. He flinches as Andy stands up, moves behind him and takes his head firmly in both hands.

“Easy. Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Nick is trembling severely. “You’ve got the right, Andy. I’ve been keeping this a secret for so long and in retrospect—it must make you feel so—disgusted.”

Andy can believe what he’s hearing now even less than the primary revelation.

“I can’t stay here. Whatever you feel about it, I can’t stay here. I have to go. Even Nancy says it’s best.”

Andy is trembling himself now, as much as Nick, who looks cringingly up at him. “Aren’t you gonna say anything? Or are you just done with me?”

The blood is boiling inside Andy from rage ... not sparked by what his brother just told him, but from his foregone conclusion that Andy would want nothing to do with him because of it. He suddenly pulls Nick to his feet so that they are eye to eye. Nick yelps. Andy’s eyes, the color of winter pond ice, burn into his and his voice is low and menacing as he says with finality, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Nick’s face melts in anguish. “I don’t want to, but Andy, there’s no other way!”

Andy thrusts him against the kitchen wall, pressing his body against him. No other way? No. There is just no way, period. No way he will let his little brother go anywhere. Not now. Not ever. His protective instincts, at their fiery peak, are audible in his next words, spoken in the same growl. “You’re staying.” He grabs Nick’s chin hard enough to hurt, his emotions so intense that he does not register the subsequent cry of pain and fear, followed by a whimper of shame.

“Andy ... I just wet myself. Please forgive me. I couldn’t help it...”

So, they are back to that. Nick’s bed wetting had lasted into adolescence. He has spoken of children at the clinic who frequently do it. Is he bringing home their symptoms? Andy’s arms are now savagely around Nick, pressing him tight against his own body like steel bands, possessive and protective at once. Nick suddenly tenses even more and begins to twitch and wriggle, as though trying to escape.

“Relax.” Andy’s tone means high-stakes business. “You’re staying like this until I decide otherwise.”

“Don’t make me more ashamed, please! You’ll get it on you!”

“I’m not letting go, Nick!”

All at once, Nick relaxes so much that Andy is afraid he will tumble to the floor. His grip on his brother momentarily relaxes to get a better hold, and that is when Nick is able to break away and run madly for the bathroom, hands clutched to his groin.

During all of Nick’s absence, Andy does not move. But when the door softly opens, he can barely keep himself from dashing to hold his brother again. He has stripped off his wet pajama bottoms and t-shirt and has only a white towel swathed loosely around his hips. His head hangs, his embarrassment still at high ebb. Then, Andy’s self-control evaporates, and he is upon his brother, pulling him so close that his breath leaves in a gasp.

“Andy, please!”

“Shut. Up. I have to do this.”

Nick rolls his head back and forth helplessly. “That’s not ... what I’m worried about. Remember ... you could never understand why I wouldn’t take my clothes off in front of you after. After a certain age. You never cared what I saw, but I wouldn’t show any flesh I didn’t have to. One day, you came in while I was in the shower. I reached for my towel, and you grabbed it. I hid myself in the stall and we fought for the towel. I was like a wildcat, determined to keep myself hidden. You kept laughing and asking why I was so funny about not showing my body. Finally, you shook your head and walked out. Andy ... I didn’t want you to see that I was. I was aroused. It just happened again while you were holding me, after I had the accident ... and it’s still happening now. Oh, I’m so twisted. So sick.”

Andy feels only profound compassion for his brother, no disgust or judgement. And something else ... because of how he looks in nothing but the towel. Not wishing to prolong Nick’s discomfort, he releases him, and he slides down the wall, hiccupping and gasping. He turns his head away. The towel drifts half-off, barely covering his pelvic region. Andy cannot believe what he is thinking—and feeling—at the sight.

Nick resumes speaking in a thick, wavering voice. “Andy. I know it hurts your feelings to see me scared of you. And I know now you won’t hurt me. But do you remember that other time, about four months after Mom and Dad. You were still adjusting. To being my guardian and carrying your whole new load of responsibilities. You started drinking. I don’t know how you got it, but you got it. I went to a movie one night with friends. Then we stopped at the arcade and ate out. I forgot to tell you we were gonna do that. When I came home, almost two hours later, you sort of stumbled out of the living room. I could smell the liquor on you, in the house. You had a look in your eyes that I’ll never forget. You had that same look just now when you ran at me.”

Andy sinks his head into his hands, long black hair obscuring him further.

Nick’s voice is now quaking more with anxiety and pain. “You lunged at me, grabbed me. You took off your belt—that motorcycle belt—yanked down my pants and threw me across your lap at the foot of the stairs there. You whipped me so hard I had to crawl away. Mom and Dad never believed in corporal punishment. It’s always made me wonder why you...”

Andy does remember. All too clearly does he remember how he had, for some arcane reason, snapped under the deluge of stress and grief he was weathering, and taken it out on the one person he had always sworn to love and protect. Nick’s look of terror as Andy had closed in is like a framed still from a horror movie hidden away in the rarely visited attic of his past. Yes, he had been drunk, but he had also swallowed a few pills from a shady cohort intent on “chilling him out a little after all the shit” he’d been through. Drink alone would never have made him lay a hand on Nick. And after that nightmare, Andy had sworn off drugs of any kind, prescribed or not.

Nick’s voice is a little steadier now and highlighted by love. “I forgive you, Andy. I forgave you long ago. But ever since, I’ve been ... careful. I couldn’t look at you quite the same. A trust issue. You were my loving, protective big brother and guardian, but I had seen firsthand how you could turn on a dime—even against me. I knew you had a temper but. I never expected that. You’d always been moody. Scorpios are. And I was careful not to ... set you off. That’s why I was so terrified to share what I have with you.” Nick is breaking down again.

Andy leans over as though stabbed in the gut. The feeling is the same. How could he have put a frightened little boy—his own brother—through such a thing? He wanted to fling himself out the front door and tear up the earth, to bay at the heavens for not striking him dead first.

“I swore that I’d come totally clean with you.” Nick is choking out the words between sobs. “And I will. See, Andy, the thing is ... I liked it.”

Andy freezes, then his blood commences boiling again. Hotter. Dear God and the angels ... what damage had he done to this man? As though hoping further explanation will quell his dreadful, already rising foreknowledge, he almost barks, “What do you mean?”

“I ... lost control while you were...”

“What do you mean you lost control?”

Nick runs his hand across his shattered face. “It was the first time it happened while I was awake.”

A nauseating sense of unreality engulfs Andy.

“I was so scared ... you had shorts on. Summertime. I saw it running down your leg. But I think you were too ... distracted ... to notice. From drinking.”

Andy takes another step closer to Nick. The “something else” which struck him earlier toward his brother is growing harder and harder to control.

Real fear is back in Nick’s eyes now. “It wasn’t your fault. And I’ve never told anyone. Not even Nancy.” He draws up his legs in an involuntary defense, the towel nearly falling off. “Andy? Why are you looking at me like that? Please say something.”

Andy is approaching his brother in the deepening shadows of the lower hall. His instincts—loving, protective, and ... well, all the rest—are roaring as he finally says in a guttural whisper, “Why haven’t you ever told anyone about this, Nicky?”

“Because I didn’t see it as wrong! Neither of us did anything wrong! You lost your temper. I was ... I was growing up. In. More ways than one. That’s all.”

At that moment, Andy’s rage against himself and the situation is compounded by his own shocking, nine-years’-delayed confession—made possible solely through Nick’s—which he desperately owes himself: that he had liked beating his brother as much as his brother had enjoyed being beaten. That the act was, at bottom, an explosive climax of the feelings building in him toward Nick ever since puberty had hit the boy and transformed him from a cute, laughing, tousle-headed imp into a beautiful, pensive, humanitarian adolescent. He is, if possible, even more gorgeous now in the half-light, his wild brown hair shining and half-hiding his worn, tear-streaked face. In his near nakedness, he resembles a heavenly creature captured. He hugs himself tightly, staring up at Andy as though expecting a physical attack.

“Andy, I’m not your problem. I’ll go away. There’ll be no ick factor to deal with then.”

The dark warrior looking down at Nick rapidly crouches and pulls him close. He is now directly between his brother’s bare, spread legs. “You’re not going anywhere,” Andy murmurs in his raspy voice, now rendered deeper by emotion. He is holding both of the kid’s arms in his own, tight enough to bruise. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re my baby brother. And you’re not going anywhere.” Andy pulls him even closer until their bodies meet. Nick is shaking so badly his teeth rattle. His breath comes rapidly. Andy straddles him ... and as he does, he can feel the kid’s body reacting to his embrace with strong approval.

“Andy ... please ... please. I must put some clothes on.”

Andy lets out a low growl. His instincts cannot handle the thought of the kid even moving right now, let alone going to get clothes.

“Andy ... you look ... you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, baby brother. I don’t mean to scare you.” Andy softly holds Nick’s face between his hands. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you.”

“I believe you. But you have to be so uncomfortable. Still, I kind of ... don’t want you to let me go.”

Andy feels himself getting aroused and is shocked. “I’m not letting you go. So, you can relax and stop moving. I’m just going to hold you for a bit.”

With a sudden sob, Nick buries his face in the crook of Andy’s neck and clings to him, heedless of decency.

Andy feels as though his little brother has finally let go of everything he’s been holding back. He can feel his tears on his own skin. As for himself, he knows he is being possessive, but he can’t help it right now. His heart, soul, and body ache for Nick. He whispers into his hair, “It’s all right, baby brother. It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

“It was you I... (sniff, sniff) ... was worried about, not me.”

Andy tightens his embrace. “I appreciate you worrying about me. But there’s no need. I’m all right.”

“This ... this is why I’ve been so ... such a mess. I fell in love with you as a little boy, but after we went on that camping trip last spring ... I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I was just so torn apart thinking how I could tell you so I wouldn’t lose you. Remember? You talked by the fire about how you weren’t sure what Cupid had in store for you. You had started talking to Shannon again ... and I knew I had to ... come clean with you. Before you got married, maybe.”

Andy closes his eyes. His brother has been suffering so long with yearnings he felt he had no choice but to hide. While he himself has been too distant and self-absorbed to notice. As painful and dramatic as Nick’s breakdown and revelations are, Andy prefers them infinitely to the mostly lighthearted, somewhat detached relationship they have settled into over the years. It is as though they are finding out who each other truly is, all over again, in the feverish space of an hour.

“It makes sense,” Andy says thickly. “You were afraid to tell me back then because of how I might react.”

“I’ve always been afraid. But I’m not blaming you, Andy.” Nick looks up at him with damp eyes full of adoration, then self-consciously reaches down to pull the towel a bit closer to cover what it should, despite rising developments.

Andy shakes his head, his eyes nearly luminescent in the hall’s half-light, as he speaks in an even softer tone. “You don’t have to cover up in front of me. You know that, right?”

Nick shudders with embarrassment. “From adolescence ... even before ... any time you held me, wrestled with me, tickled me ... I couldn’t help it. Not that I minded.”

“I’m still sorry, baby brother. I had no idea what you were going through. And yet, your main concern was losing me.”

Nick reached up to softly touch Andy’s chest. Andy is finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions and instincts under control with this beautiful boy sitting in his lap with the towel barely around him, obviously loving their intimacy. Andy lays a hand on his thigh, and he jerks slightly, moans.

“Thank you, God,” whispers Nick shakily. “Thank you for giving me this incredible brother. Please help him to know how much I love him.”

“I should be thanking God for you, kid.”

Nick’s quivering has abated slightly. “Remember how we’d go to church, and you’d explain things to me better than Reverend Peterson ever could?”

“I remember those days. I enjoyed them very much, baby brother.”

“And you encouraged me to sing. Solos. And to get into musicals in school and college and locally. You came to see every one, even though they’re not really your thing.”

“That’s the way it should have been. Mom and Dad only came to a few.” Their parents had never been convinced that Nick’s shows were of a quality worth giving up a couple of hours for. They were wrong.

“My signature bar song I always belted out? “As Long as He Needs Me”, from Oliver!? That was for you. ‘I miss him so much when he is gone/but when he’s near me I don’t let on’.”

Andy rests his head on Nick’s. “All that time, you were singing that song for me?”

“You’re my own personal Bill Sykes.”

“Sykes? The villain?” Andy raises his head and peers down into his brother’s face. “You really think of me that way?”

“Not mean like him. Just moody and unpredictable and incredibly hot.”

Andy allows himself a bemused half-smile. “You think I’m incredibly hot?”

Nick nestles closer. “I never minded when you changed in front of me or left the bathroom door ajar when you took a shower.”

“I really turned you on, huh?” Andy’s breath is suddenly coming faster, and he clutches the towel, forcing down the urge to rip it off Nick’s delectable body.

“Andy...” His brother’s voice is a trembling plea. “Andy ... oh, my God, this is going to sound so ... perverse. But I want to be your slave. Take your orders. Be controlled by you.”

Andy’s eyes gleam. He lowers his head to whisper in Nick’s ear. “Say that again, little brother.”

“Show me who’s boss. Give me tough love. Make me suffer through pleasure.”

“Tell me more.” Andy is breathing even more quickly, as is his brother. His hands descend to clasp Nick’s narrow hips under the towel.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted ... in and out of the bedroom. Even forbid me to ... finish things without your permission. Make me go days, weeks, restraining myself until ... you’re ready. Please? Please, Andy?”

“Say it again, little brother. Beg me again. Beg me to take control.”

Nick is nearly hyperventilating now. “Please ... please ... Master. Take me prisoner. Love me. Discipline me. Let me look after your every need. Be cruel sometimes, like making me hold back until you’re good and ready for ... the finale. Humiliate me. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Sir.”

Andy shoots to his feet, bringing Nick with him. The towel is now held up only by his own hands. He locks eyes with his brother and hears his own voice as from a great distance. “You want me to love you, discipline you, even humiliate you sometimes?”