Chapter 4: For the Birds

Nick sleeps for hours. Andy checks on him in between doing household chores ... laundry, making out the next grocery list, cleaning the bathroom. They have a college boy hired to deep clean once a week. Neither Andy nor Nick care for housework. They aren’t much on heavy cooking, either, and so they prepare no-cook meals or occasionally order in.

At around four, Andy hears Nick stirring, the sounds of the shower running. A little while later, he hears faint music and goes up to find Nick in pajama bottoms and t-shirt, checking emails at his desk. Andy realizes the melody of the cello duet on Nick’s playlist is “Nearer My God to Thee,” and before he can stop himself, barks, “What the fuck are you listening to THAT for?”

Nick jumps, startled. “Oh, it’s just ... I like the melody, it’s ... soothing.” He looks away, blushing. “I have a lot of old hymns on my playlist. The ones we sang in church.”

“But that one,” Andy says, walking closer, his bare feet silent on the carpet. “It’s ... heavy, man. It’s about dying. I don’t mind you listening to whatever you like,” he adds quickly, “but with everything you’ve been through, I just want to make sure you’re okay. That you’re not, you know, using it to wallow or something.”

Nick smiles vulnerably up at Andy. “No wallowing, Master. Just catching up on my emails and texts. I started this yesterday and I swear there’s more instead of less. My supervisor--Laura--is begging me to come back to work.”

Andy sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at Nick. “You’ve got to take it easy, man,” he says, placing a firm but gentle hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You’re not a robot. You need time to heal, both physically and ... you know.” He nods towards Nick’s heart, unable to put the depth of his feelings into words. “You’re too important to push yourself like that.” He squeezes Nick’s shoulder before letting his hand drop away.

Nick turns and hugs Andy’s midsection with all his might, laying his head against him. “Thank you for the massage, Master Andy. I thought I did die. And went to heaven. You made me feel sooooo incredible. You’re a god.”

“Better than your piano?” Andy chuckles, his arms automatically wrapping around Nick’s slender frame, holding him close. “You’re welcome, baby. I’m always here for you.” He kisses the top of Nick’s head, his heart swelling with affection. “Now, let’s get you something to eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

The brothers eat a light supper of sautéed chicken and vegetables, one of Andy’s specialties. After the dishes, they head into the living room to find something on TV to watch. News on the political scene is mutually avoided. Andy, flipping with the remote, discovers The Birds and, Nick being a Hitchcock buff, is most pleased. It is the scene where the crows are gathering on the playground jungle gym. Nick idolizes the film, while Andy has only seen parts of it.

“You like this?” Andy queries, his thumb hovering over the button.

“Oh, it’s on my top ten,” says Nick, his eyes bright. “But it’s halfway through. If you want to see it from the start, I have the DVD over there. Up to you.”

Andy looks over at the DVD rack with a raised eyebrow, then back to Nick. “You’re the boss tonight, little bro. If you want to watch the start, we’ll watch the start.” He puts the remote down and strides over to the rack, pulling out the DVD with a grin. He slots the disc into the player and sits back down, pulling Nick closer so that they’re nestled together on the couch. The film’s opening credits roll, and the two of them get lost in the world of suspense, the tension of the film contrasting with the comfort of their embrace. As the movie progresses, Andy becomes riveted and offers a lively commentary, much to Nick’s bemusement. As the tension in the movie builds, so does the anticipation in the room. Andy can feel Nick’s heart racing, his breathing quickening, and he leans in to whisper, “It’s just a movie, baby,” his breath warm against Nick’s ear. Nick jumps at a sudden screech, and Andy can’t help but chuckle. He squeezes Nick’s shoulder, his thumb making soothing circles on the bare skin. The light from the TV flickers across their faces, casting shadows that dance on the wall. The sound of the crows’ caws fills the room, and Nick shifts closer to Andy, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. The film’s suspense is palpable, and yet, in the safety of their shared space, the horror feels almost like a guilty pleasure. Andy’s eyes never leave the screen, but he’s acutely aware of Nick’s reactions, the way his body tenses and relaxes with every scare. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride in his own ability to both scare and comfort him, a strange mix of roles that he’s quickly grown accustomed to in their newfound dynamic. Nick mentions that the town schoolteacher in the film, Annie Hayworth, played by Suzanne Pleshette, is his favorite character.

Andy frowns. “But she died.”

“She died to save Cathy from the birds,” Nick points out. “I love characters who give their lives for others. Sacrifice is noble. No greater love has he...”

“ ... Than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” Andy finishes the biblical quote with a squeeze on Nick’s shoulder. “It’s a good movie, but man, Hitchcock knew how to mess with your head.” He laughs, his eyes still on the screen as the film’s climax approaches. “Now, why the FUCK is she going up those stairs alone?”

Nick smirks. “Hitch told Tippi Hedren that it was because he wanted her to. She didn’t get it either.”

Andy laughs. “Still, it’s a classic. You’ve got good taste, baby.” He shifts his position slightly, his thigh pressing against Nick’s, and feels the warmth of their bodies melding together. The suspense of the film is broken by the occasional laugh or gasp, but the underlying tension between them is building, a delicious anticipation of what may come once the movie ends. Nick is fidgeting a lot, wiggling his hips. He admits that he’s itching again. Andy tells him to wait and fetches a small tube of itch relief cream. Nick thanks him and reaches for it, but Andy shakes his head. “Let me lay down, then you be the little spoon. Nick nods, his cheeks flushing as he gets up. He feels a little awkward, but also safe. The warmth of the blanket and the softness of the couch cushions welcome him as he lies down. He feels Andy’s strong body curve around him, his chest pressing into Nick’s back, his legs entwined with Nick’s. Andy wraps an arm around him, his hand landing on Nick’s stomach. Nick feels the calloused fingertips trace light circles on his abdomen, sending sparks of sensation through him. The TV flickers, casting strange patterns on the ceiling as the film reaches its climax, and Nick’s heart races in time with the pounding of his brother’s. Andy reaches down and unsnaps Nick’s pajama bottoms, exposing his groin. Then he slowly squeezes out cream onto his fingertips.

The coolness of the cream is a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and Nick gasps as the relief spreads over his skin. “M-master,” he whispers, his voice shaking slightly. Andy very, very gently and lightly spreads cream over the healing incision. Nick whimpers with delight, hips bucking uncontrollably. He is instantly, achingly erect.

“Easy, baby,” Andy murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet of the room. His other hand moves down to Nick’s erection, stroking it softly in time with the circles he makes with the cream. “Let’s make sure you’re all taken care of.” His thumb brushes the slit of Nick’s cock, collecting the dribble of pre-cum that’s formed there. “Does that feel good?”

Nick throws his head back. “Ooooohhhh, Andy ... Sir ... Master ... it’s so good I’m gonna cry.”

Andy positions his fingers over the healing wound and offers a feathery scratch. “Is this where that old itch lurks?” His voice in Nick’s ear is like a warm beach breeze.

Nick writhes with pleasure as Andy scratches. “Yes!” he cries. “Oh, my God that feels so...”

Andy moves his fingers slightly to the left. “Here?” he asks teasingly.

Nick arches his back with a hiss. “No, no ... right there.” He squirms, trying to get the perfect spot.

“Here?”

“Y-yes,” Nick gasps, his hips rising to meet the pressure. The combination of pleasure and pain is intoxicating, a heady mix that has his breath coming in ragged gasps. He feels the warmth of Andy’s chuckle against his neck. His erection swells more and throbs, but Andy ignores it, concentrating on administering other relief.

“A-and there,” Nick pants, his voice a shaky whisper.

Andy whispers in his ear, “Better?”

Nick’s breath hitches in his throat as the tension in his body starts to dissolve. “So much better, Master,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need and gratitude. The gentle stroking of his cock has stopped, and now it’s the anticipation that’s driving him wild. He can feel the heat of Andy’s breath against his neck, and he knows his brother is enjoying the power he holds in this moment. The room is quiet except for the sounds of their breathing and the distant chirps of the birds outside, a stark contrast to the chaos in the film. Nick’s heart races as the suspense builds in him, his body begging for release.

Andy puts aside the cream, then snaps Nick’s pants closed again. “I know what you want,” he purrs. “But what kind of a brother would I be if I let you cum before your disabled little boy down there was completely healed? No hanky panky yet. Have to wait.”

Nick’s body goes rigid with frustration, his eyes squeezed shut. “But, but, it’s okay, it’s just a little ... oh, fuck...” He can feel the precum seeping out of him, wetting the fabric of his pajama bottoms. “Andy, please,” he whispers, his voice pleading.

Andy chuckles evilly. “Little bro slave ... you made the mistake of telling me your denial fantasy. It’s what you’ve always wanted. From me. Well.” He kisses and nips his brother’s ear. “Be careful what you wish for ... because you just might get it. And you got it. And you’re gonna get it again ... and again ... and again...”

Nick’s eyes fly open, his body a coil of frustration and need. “Master,” he groans, his hands clenching into fists. “Please,” he begs, his voice trembling.

Andy smirks. “Nope. Sorry, baby brother. You’ll cum when you’re healed. And when I say you can. Not a moment before.”

Nick’s breath comes out in a huff, his body still trembling from the denied release. “But, but, I’m okay, I promise,” he pleads, his voice high and needy.

Andy pulls his brother tightly to him, his own boner poking Nick’s ass. “Shhhhhhh. Watch the movie, babe. Don’t want to miss the last scene of a movie you love so much.”

Nick tries to focus on the movie, his body a riot of sensations. The tension in his groin is almost unbearable, but he knows that Andy’s rules are for his own good. He watches the screen, but the images blur together as he fights to keep his mind off his desperate need for release. His skin feels hot and tight, his body begging for more. He can feel the warmth of Andy’s cock pressing against him, a constant reminder of his denied pleasure. Nick takes a deep breath, willing his arousal to subside. The film’s tension mirrors his own internal struggle, but he forces his eyes to the screen, watching as the characters fight for survival against the relentless birds. He tries to find comfort in the familiar storyline, but every time he feels himself getting lost in the plot, the ache in his groin pulls him back. The film ends with the survivors leaving the town, and Nick feels a twinge of sadness for the characters, his mind still racing with his own unresolved desires.

Andy gapes at the screen in outrage. “Jesus Christ, is that how it ends? They just drive away??? You gotta be kidding me. What kind of a shitty finale was that?”

Nick grins in spite of himself. “About as shitty as the one I got. Master.”

“Mm, I see what you’re sayin’.” Andy rises, turning off the TV, his eyes never leaving Nick’s. “Pretty cheeky you are.” He walks over to the stereo and puts on a Sinatra CD. “How about some Old Blue Eyes?”

Nick can’t help but smile at the change in tone, the music filling the room with a nostalgic warmth. “Perfect,” he murmurs, his voice still a little shaky from the denied orgasm. He turns over to face Andy, his eyes searching for any signs of regret in his brother’s gaze, finding none. Instead, he sees the same fierce love and protectiveness that has been there since they were children. He sits up, his legs folding under him, and reaches for the TV remote to put it away. “Let’s dance,” he suggests shyly, his cheeks flushing at the memory of their mother teaching them to waltz in the very same living room.

Andy looks at Nick, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief. “Dance?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. But before Nick can withdraw the suggestion, he’s up and holding out a hand to him. “You got it, baby,” he says, pulling Nick to his feet. The two of them stand awkwardly for a moment, trying to find their rhythm to the music. It’s been years since they’ve done this, but the memory of their mother’s laughter and gentle guidance feels as fresh as ever. The scent of the clean living room mingles with the faint smell of the chicken dinner, and the soft fabric of Nick’s pajamas brushes against his skin as they move together. Despite his earlier frustration--and Nick is still rock-hard, throbbing against Andy--he feels his spirits lift as he’s swept into the dance, his body moving with a grace that surprises even him. He lets out a giggle, his eyes sparkling with joy. Andy’s strong hands guide him, their steps matching the beat of Sinatra’s crooning. For a moment, it’s as if the troubles of the world have disappeared, and all that remains is the love and comfort of their shared past.

Lying together in bed shortly after, preparing to sleep, Andy, who is very horny, can’t resist teasing Nick a bit more as he holds him, and murmurs sensually in his ear. “I was thinking about other little scenarios we could act out. You like acting. What if we pretended I kidnapped you. Tied you up. Got all tough with you ... then ... showed my tender side while you were helpless...”

Nick’s heart skips a beat, and he feels a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. “I-I would love that, Andy,” he whispers. “I would be too embarrassed to ask for it. But roleplay is so hot. It’s one of my favorite porn genres.”