My Sister's Boyfriend

My Sister’s Boyfriend By Drew Hunt My twin sister is a b***h…But she’s still my sister and I’d do anything for her. When I finished uni and found a job with the Council’s finance department and got my own flat, Emma, the b***h younger -by-five-minutes twin—moved in with me. Not my idea, but…Basically mum and dad had washed their hands of her and she either came to live with me or with the latest in a long line of her loser boyfriends or equally irresponsible female friends. Being the responsible and too-kind-hearted-for-my-own-good older twin, I offered my spare room as a temporary stopgap. Two years later she was still there, me threatening to put a revolving door on her bedroom to cope with the seemingly endless string of boyfriends. Yes, I’m jealous. I’m gay and most nights I sleep alone. Em’s better at attracting men than I am. However, I like to believe my lack of success is because I’m more discerning. I didn’t bother learning the names of most of Em’s boyfriends. One would show up at the breakfast table Saturday morning, but nine times out of ten a different man would be sitting in the third chair come the following Saturday morning. Cory Hawkins—yes, I’d learned his name—was the current guy. I’d taken note of him because he was a cut above the rest. He had a job for a start. And standing at six feet four inches, blond curly hair, wide at the shoulder—and everywhere else—he was easy on the eye. According to Em, he had a thick nine-inch d**k. I made a point of scoping out his crotch bulge the next time I met him. Judging from the prolonged and frequent moans, groans, and screams coming through the wall that separated Em’s room from mine, it seemed Cory was perfectly capable of putting all nine inches to good use. Yep, definitely jealous. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t j******f while listening to them go at it. Cory played for a local amateur rugby league team, worked as a bouncer at a nightclub in the city, and for all I knew, helped little old ladies cross the road, too. In short, he was an all-around good bloke. God knew what he saw in my sister. No, that was unkind. Em had some good qualities, she just kept them buried deep. I wish I’d found Cory—or a gay version of him—first. Maybe I should ask him if he had a brother, or better still an identical twin. I was like Em in that I couldn’t keep a man for more than a few dates. Although unlike my sister, they were the ones who seemed to lose interest. I wouldn’t mind, I wasn’t bad looking or anything, I had a job, my own place…and a live-in twin sister. Guess it was true what they said about how nice guys always came last. I knew I’d have to make more of an effort to get out there. It’d been so long since I’d last gotten laid, I was considering declaring my arse virgin territory again. Binge watching shows on Netflix of a Friday night while eating microwaved frozen pizza wouldn’t exactly help me find Mr Right. I was halfway through the pizza—a particularly inedible stuffed crust—when there came a knocking at the front door. Pausing an episode of The Crown, I got up to answer. “Hi, Mike.” It was Cory. I was confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with Em?” It was his turn to look confused. It was then I noticed the crutches and a large boot on his left foot. “No. Thought she’d be here.” My confusion deepened, quickly followed by a realisation that most likely Cory had been dumped, either that or Em was in the process of finding another guy to warm her bed while still keeping the current one, just in case the new one didn’t work out. Told you she was a b***h. A part of me wondered if I was wrong and if Em was in trouble and…I tried to remember if she’d said anything about where she was going that night but quickly concluded she hadn’t; she rarely did. “Uh, Mike, can I come in? My foot’s killing me,” Cory said, shuffling slightly. “Uh, sure. Sorry.” I stepped aside and as Cory passed, I noticed he was wearing a rucksack. “What happened?” “Broke my ankle in training yesterday afternoon.” “Ouch!” I winced. “Come through and make yourself comfortable.” “Thanks, but I need to take a piss and wash off some of this sweat first. Walking from the bus stop took it out of me.” “Bus? Why didn’t you drive…? Oh, yeah.” I realised his broken ankle would stop him from driving. “Okay, you know where the loo is.” I watched his firm, full arse as Cory and it moved down the hallway and turned right into the bathroom. I resisted the urge to ask him if he needed help. I wasn’t sure if Em had told him I was gay. While I waited for Cory to come back, I picked up the place. It didn’t take long. Em always accused me of being a neat freak. And as she hadn’t been home to make a mess, it was already pretty tidy. Emma not being home got me to thinking. I pulled out my iPhone and brought up What’s App and began to type. Your Message: Cory’s here. Where are you? A couple of minutes later my phone dinged. The b***h: Blackpool “Blackpool?” I said aloud. I was distracted from my phone by Cory hobbling back into the living room, minus his sweater. Leaning on the crutches certainly emphasised his arm muscles and his tight tee showed off his chest, too. Forcing my gaze up to Cory’s square-jawed face, I slipped into good host mode. “Have you eaten?” “Nah, not really. I’m pretty s**t at cooking.” He lifted his crutches. “And these don’t help.” I wasn’t that great a cook myself, although I could feed myself—and Em—without too much trouble. Which reminded me. Your message: ? The b***h: Mandy’s hen weekend remember I didn’t. And it’s something I would have. Still, at least I knew where she was and hoped she was being safe. Not a lot I could do if she wasn’t. Sighing, I slipped my phone back in my pocket. “Seems Em’s in Blackpool.” “Blackpool?” I laughed. “That’s what I said.” I explained that one of her friends was getting married in a couple of weeks and the group of female friends were getting together at the coast. “She didn’t say anything to me about it.” “Typical Em,” I said before focussing back on the task at hand, namely feeding Cory. “What would you like to eat?” “I’ll ring for a pizza.” I remembered the cold and dry crust I’d recently tossed in the bin as well as what Cory had requested the first time he’d stayed for breakfast. “How about something with less fat and more protein? Scrambled eggs on toast and not too much toast? Cory gave me a heart-melting and d**k-hardening smile. “f*****g awesome.” He lowered himself onto the sofa. “Want a beer? Or are you on pain killers or something?” “Don’t like taking anything stronger than Paracetamol ‘cause it makes me woolly headed.” “Wouldn’t have thought Paracetamol would do anything for the sort of pain you must be in.” Cory grinned. “It doesn’t, but I’m tough.” I held back a blush. “So, you want a beer then?” Cory nodded and I bustled off into the kitchen, calling out, “Change the channel on the TV to something else if you want” I cracked eight eggs into a bowl, added just a splash of milk, the smallest of knobs of butter, and some shredded cheese. The fridge also yielded some smoked salmon and I knew there was a fresh packet of bagels in the bread crock. To my surprise, when I came back into the living room, tray in hand, Cory was watching the episode of The Crown I’d paused. When he saw me, he started to get up. “No, stay where you are. You can manage the tray on your lap can’t you?” He nodded and settled back down. I laid the tray on his lap and took my plate—which contained less than half the amount of food Cory’s did—plus one of the bottles of Michelob, and took them to the armchair. “This is f*****g great,” he said through a mouthful of food. I smiled. “Thanks. Just stuff I had in.” We watched the rest of the show then talked about it. Seemed Cory had studied history and politics at A-level so was pretty familiar with the recent history of the British monarchy. Cory shifted and grimaced. “Your foot hurting?” “f*****g killing me.” I could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Want some water to take your paracetamols? Or I’ve probably got something stronger in the medicine chest if you…” “Is it okay if I stay the night in Em’s room? The lift’s broke in my block and…” “Course you can stay. Stay as long as you need to.” “Thanks, mate.” Cory looked relieved as well as worn out. “Those painkillers. Want to take a couple?” Cory looked undecided. “It’s getting late so it won’t matter if the pills mess with your head. Plus you’ve just eaten.” I smiled. “Promise I won’t shop you to the macho police.” I was treated to a tired and somewhat lopsided grin that was even sexier than the smile he’d gifted me earlier. “Okay, you talked me into it.” I got up quickly and dashed into the bathroom before my arousal showed. I’d gotten some pretty strong pain killers from the dentist a year or two back when I’d suffered a particularly painful root filling. I hadn’t needed all the pills because the pain soon went away of its own accord. After giving Cory the pills plus a glass of water, I tried not to hover while he visited the bathroom and then made his way to Em’s room. “Thanks, Mike,” he said, turning around in the doorway. “You’ve been a real mate tonight.” “No problem. I’m just next door if you need anything.” Go me for not offering to undress him or tuck him in or… He smiled and nodded. “Goodnight.” “Night,” I replied. Cory turned, went into the room, and shut the door behind him. I spent a few minutes cleaning up in the kitchen before checking everything was locked up tight for the night. After doing my thing in the bathroom I paused outside Em’s door, couldn’t hear anything, so went into my own room and closed the door. Sleep did not come easily. My thoughts were troubled by my inappropriate feelings for Cory. The man was about as perfect as it was possible to be. Big, strong, handsome, kind, intelligent…”And straight and with my sister,” I whispered, punching my pillow in frustration before turning over. * * * * It wasn’t until the next morning as I was making breakfast and heard Cory clomping down the hall that I wondered if he had to sleep in the protective boot or could take it off. Was he able to do that; should I have offered to help him? Surely he’d have asked for help if he’d needed it. “Stop obsessing!” I said under my breath. “Morning.” Cory stood in the doorway, looking totally sexy in a pair of sweatpants and another of his tight tees, this one red with a white horizontal stripe. “Morning. Sleep okay?” Cory nodded, swallowed, and remained in the doorway. Sensing Cory was feeling awkward, I turned from the microwave where I was cooking bacon and pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Just in time. Bacon and eggs okay? Think there’s some mushrooms in the fridge, too.” Cory smiled shyly and moved forward. Before lowering himself into the waiting seat, he lifted his right arm, crutch still attached to his wrist and patted my shoulder. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a real mate.” “Yeah, well.” I blushed and dipped my head. Just then the microwave beeped, and I used it as an excuse to turn away. I’d been cooking the bacon for me but I could easily make more. Although with Cory in residence I knew I’d have to go food shopping sooner rather than later. As my grandmother used to say, “He’s cheaper to feed for a week than a fortnight.” This didn’t make a whole lot of sense because that was surely true of anyone. “Scrambled, fried, or I could do poached.” “Whatever’s easiest. You don’t need to go to any trouble, I’ll just have what you’re having.” I wasn’t going to do eggs for me but I know Cory liked to eat a high-protein diet. As I’d served scrambled eggs the night before and fried eggs used oil, I thought poached would be best so got out a saucepan and half-filled it with water. As I worked, snacking as I went, I realised how cosy, domestic, and well, right this scene felt. Letting out a sigh I did my best to push away such thoughts and asked Cory what he wanted to drink. “Anything. I like tea, coffee, juice. Anything.” “Coffee it is then.” I’d already made a pot and it should still be good and hot. “Milk, sugar?” “Just a spot of milk, please.” “You’re sweet enough already then?” I observed, quoting my grandmother again. Damn, I had to rein this s**t in. Didn’t want Cory to feel uncomfortable. He laughed. “Don’t know about that, just don’t want the extra calories.” Breakfast was soon ready and I put the plates on the table, again serving Cory about twice what I was having. “You sure you’re eating enough?” Cory asked, eyeing the unequal portions. “If I ate as much as you, I’d be the size of a house. Don’t get the chance to burn it off like you do.” The remembered sound of Cory nailing my sister popped into my head. “Uh, going to the gym. How often do you work out?” “Three times a week usually.”