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Michael’s heart has skipped several beats by now. The only reason he’s even awake at this hour is because of a phone call from his boss, asking if he could fill in tonight. No, no he can’t.
Now he absolutely cannot.
When the phone call had ended, Michael had gone to text messages. Apparently, he’d missed a text from the guy last night. However, that wasn’t the concerning part – but rather the ominous message to Lincoln. What? Why had he texted him last night? Did he lose him at the bar or something?
Completely clueless, Michael had gone and pressed on it. That’s what he’s staring at right now. A blurry picture. Sent to Lincoln. Taken by Lincoln. Of them.
Oh my god.
They’re– they were–
Michael’s hands are on Lincoln’s shoulders in the picture. From context clues, he’s also straddling his lap. Both of their eyes closed. At the bar. At the damn bar, in front of everyone and their grandmother – he’s sitting on Lincoln’s lap, kissing him.
Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.
He has to look away. The picture is slowly triggering foggy memories of Lincoln’s hot hands on him, fingers trickling down to his belt to tug. Michael purring against his side before all that, whispering whatever dirty things came to his mind.
No way. No way, he was barely tipsy, how did it end up like–
Fuck. The problem isn’t that he made out with Lincoln – even though that really should be the issue – it’s that they did it in front of God knows who. Holy shit. No, no, no, this could be really bad. What the hell.
To recall who was there doing what, Michael whips the phone back to his face.
Okay. Alright. In the picture, it’s just them. But behind the table, it was, uh, Lincoln’s coworkers. As far as he remembers, he wasn’t introduced as a brother to any of them. Yes. Most likely. They wouldn’t need to know all that. Besides, Lincoln stopped doing it precisely because of… this. Just in case. To acquaintances, they’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
Except in this picture, they’re way more than just friends.
Then, the most embarrassing part yet hits his memory. As it rolls back bit by bit, Michael screams at himself internally – why would he do this in public?!
Teasing fingers on Lincoln’s collar, Michael remembers leaning next to his ear. And to be fair, their booth was decently secluded in the back, but… There were definitely some hands on lower body parts. Yeah. He remembers skimming down to Lincoln’s front for, uh, no idea for how long. But, surely, nobody was around if he did all that…
”You hard for me yet?” Michael remembers asking right there. Fingers attempting to curl around his dick, feeling around the imprint against his palm. Kissing him behind his ear. Wet mouth nestling on his neck, sucking gently. ”Are you?”
Fuck.
This is exactly why he doesn’t go out drinking, especially with Lincoln. He becomes so… bold. Not in a good way. How many times has Lincoln teased him for it already? It never ends well. When will he learn…
But now, it was in public of all places. Oh my god, what the hell could have possessed him? There are lines they don’t cross. Obvious lines. Michael has shame. Lincoln not so much, but Michael has. Or had.
But even then, how the hell. How did he end up all the way on Lincoln’s lap, to the point where Lincoln even took a picture? In a bar full of people! Gosh, Michael hates that himself. There’s a time and place for everything. Not in a damn public space, like people can’t control themselves, but apparently, he’s no better.
He knows he can be persuasive. But this…
There’s no doubt they had sex either. The bed is a mess – Michael sees their clothes crumbled up on the floor with a lone pillow, and there might be a condom wrapper or two in the mix. Michael’s jeans still hang on at the end of the bed. Of course he remembers that part too, better than most of the night. He'd be upset if he didn't – taking Lincoln from the back, listening to the sounds of his unashamed moaning and groaning above his ear. Teasing his dripping cock in the front.
And there he is, dozing off on his stomach next to Michael. Barely even covered by the sheets.
”Love showing me off, Mike? Want everyone to know who gives it to you?”
Michael feels heat rising up on his cheeks. His answer to that had been an astounding yes. The voice repeats in his head as he stares into Lincoln’s sleeping face, embarrassed by himself. They cannot be this reckless. One wrong person sees, and it’s a stain in their life for the rest of eternity. It’s not normal. No matter how casual it feels, they have to remember that. Nobody can know.
It’s just something that feels good. A perfect trade-off. Sure, Michael has tried other people, but it never feels the same with someone else. It never feels so wrong. It never feels so dangerous. He must be sick, but at least Lincoln is too.
Absentmindedly, Michael exits the text messages. His phone is back to the menu now, and another chill runs down his spine. He… he should check the photos. He sent one, but there could be more. Michael presses down to the icon, contemplating hard before going in.
Multiple.
There are multiple pictures.
All of them seem to be taken by Lincoln – maybe he wanted to send all of them to himself. Most of them are blurry and unfocused though, but some are coherent. One picture of Michael’s face in the dark, a drunk smile on his lips. One of him kissing Lincoln’s cheek. Another where Lincoln is holding him by the jaw. Followed by a picture of his hand around his throat, squeezing tightly. Michael looks well pleased – staring into the camera with half-lidded eyes.
Before Michael gets to even freak out over it, he presses into a video. The preview is black.
Oh no.
To press play, Michael has to take ten serious seconds to prepare. Whatever is in here, it’s closer and closer to the picture where they’re kissing. Good lord. Well, if it's the worst-case scenario, then at least he will know what led to all that…
He plays it.
The video starts with Lincoln pointing the camera at Michael, who’s thankfully not sitting on him. But he’s way too close, and for some reason, Lincoln drops his hand and phone right back on his lap.
”When did I teach you manners like this, huh?”
”Aw, Linc, I have perfect manners.”
Michael’s sentence is almost cut off by what sounds like a quick, wet kiss.
”If you had manners,” Lincoln begins, and the camera shifts up. It’s on– ”You wouldn’t be touching my cock.”
He’s pointing the phone at his crotch. Michael kneads on it, palm pressing firmly as Lincoln grunts behind the camera. Before the video ends, Michael can hear himself giggling and most likely kissing his brother again.
Okay, uh, fuck. There was definitely nobody around. However, that does little to relieve the surging anxiety inside him. Michael still has no clue how he’d somehow ended up on Lincoln’s lap. In the video, Lincoln had seemed reluctant – not willing to have his brother clinging on him like some kind of prized possession, tongues in each other’s mouths.
With a gulp, Michael continues going through the media. The next three pictures are incoherent and dark, but the fourth one is another video. This one is longer.
Michael thinks he should pray to a God that the video isn’t horrible, but this might just be a sin too shameful to even try to repent for.
”Pleeeease,” the video begins immediately with Michael’s pouty whine. The camera is shaking, but he thinks he’s the one recording this time. That seems to be the truth as Lincoln’s chest appears on the screen the next second. ”Let’s record it.”
”Record your crimes?” Lincoln laughs, and Michael finally points the camera at him directly. Even though it’s dim, it’s clear enough to see just fine.
”Our crimes,” Michael specifies, and Lincoln looks into the phone with a roll of his eyes. Still, nobody around. Did his coworkers leave early? Go to get more drinks? ”This was your idea.”
Lincoln looks back at Michael behind the camera.
”Normal pictures…”
”My hand on your dick is a normal–”
”Hey,” Lincoln shushes him, and disappears from the frame for a second. It sounds like he’s covering Michael’s mouth, who’s trying to muffle something through his hand. ”So loud. What I say about bad manners?”
Next, Michael sets the phone on the table. Now the video is horizontal, and only their upper bodies, down from the chin, are visible.
”What, you don’t want them to know?” Michael purrs as he removes the hand on his mouth, guiding it down to his lap. Or, obviously to his own crotch. He takes a moment to continue, ’discreetly’ jerking Lincoln’s palm across his dick. ”That you’re a brother fucker?”
Oh my fucking god.
Michael’s thumb moves before he can even think. Hell no, he’s not watching any more of that, and he shakes his head vigorously on the bed. Dirty talk is embarrassing enough for him, but this, he would never say that, but obviously he did–
The next picture is the kissing one. But he presses forward from it on accident, trying so hard to get off the video, and the next one is–
Taken by someone else.
By. Someone. Else.
They’re still in the same position. It’s taken a little further away, and Michael can see Lincoln’s hands on his ass. His brother is haphazardly looking into the camera while Michael is kissing him.
Who the fuck took this fucking pict– Michael slaps Lincoln on the face before the thought even finishes.
”What the–”
”Wake up!” Michael hisses and shakes him angrily, and Lincoln springs up on his elbows. Whoever took that, whoever witnessed that, whoever knows about this– ”Who took this?!”
Shoving the phone to Lincoln’s face, his brother frowns and tries to focus on the picture on the small screen. A few moments pass before he gazes up to Michael.
”What…”
”I know!” Michael whines, and lets the phone fall between them. He bounces on his back on the bed with his hands on his face. Was it a coworker?! If so, it would only be a matter of time until they find out what they are!
While Michael continues squirming into his palms out of embarrassment, Lincoln picks up the phone. He can hear Lincoln going back and forth in the image gallery, and one of the videos starts playing. It’s the one he skipped away from. And it continues where it was left off.
”No, I really don’t.”
”But that’s what you are…”
”You’re too vulgar, Mike.”
”Uh-uh? But, that makes me a brother fucker too–”
Lincoln gasps.
”Shut it off!” Michael screams into his hands, and Lincoln complies immediately. Oh my god. He doesn’t even want to know what happens after that. Well, he knows they’ll kiss and grope at each other, but he’d rather not hear himself say another word about being a brother fucker.
The silence that follows is deafening. Lincoln is still quiet. What do you even say to this? How do you process other people seeing this… this debauchery. And they had the audacity to ask for someone else to take a picture. Michael is never drinking again. This time he actually means it.
”There’s uh,” is the first thing Lincoln says. What? ”Another one…”
”No,” Michael blurts out instantly. What do you mean there’s another one?
”It’s not as bad, I think…” Lincoln gulps as he brings the phone above him, and Michael cracks open his fingers to look at the picture behind his hands.
Not as bad? This might be the worst picture in existence.
Their position is still similar, but this time the cameraman – or, a woman – is holding out a peace sign next to them. Michael doesn’t recognize the acrylic nails, but he does recognize the other woman behind them. Posing for the picture with a big grin.
They’re two of the bartenders. Lincoln’s coworkers kept flirting with the one behind them.
”This is horrible,” Michael sighs as Lincoln retreats the phone. He let these poor women walk into this situation? This is the end of him. This is a new low even by his standards. Like he said, Lincoln might not have any shame left, but this is an actual abomination to Michael.
”I mean, she looks pretty happy though,” Lincoln tries to calm him down, but Michael only clicks his tongue at it. Yeah, whatever they’re happy for, this is his dignity! ”Maybe they like men kissing, I don’t know…”
”Brothers kissing,” Michael corrects him, and sighs before sitting up again. They obviously weren’t aware of that. This is not okay. ”They didn’t know that.”
”Well, good.”
Yeah, good indeed. They can never go back to that place again. There must be other witnesses too – none that know their relation – but they did enough damage already. It’s a miracle if Lincoln’s coworkers didn’t catch on. Why would he do this, say that, act like that… he needs a week off just to process this stupid shit he’s done.
”Noo, come on,” Michael suddenly hears from the phone, and it’s his voice. There’s more?!
”They already agreed to take a picture, come on.”
”It’s embarrassing!”
”Guuuyys, it’s okay, you’re so cute like that!”
”Yeah. Listen to her, Mike, we’re so cute.”
”Kiss againnn!”
”Exactly, show a little respect to these women, won’t you?”
”Fine...”
Michael snatches the phone from Lincoln.
”So hottt!” is the next thing he hears on the video, and Michael sets his eyes on a new position. This one a little less raunchy – he’s not straddling Lincoln anymore, but he’s still on his lap, now sideways. The camera is also up to their faces this time.
”Ah,” Michael whimpers softly into Lincoln’s mouth, and the woman points the camera down. Lincoln is fondling the back of his thigh, keeping him steady on his lap. Michael is also… visibly hard.
The rest of the video is quiet aside from Lincoln’s small grunts and their wet lips moving together. Which is, well, not that quiet. Michael is flushed from ears to cheeks, breathing heavily against Lincoln. His occasional tiny wails seem to get his brother off, who frowns deeply into the kiss each time. The woman is really giving them angles on this too. When they separate, saliva running down, the woman pulls the phone a little further away.
”Holy shit!”
After that, Lincoln mutters something in the video, but Michael doesn’t know if he can bear to watch this until the end. He’s writhing around on his lap as if it isn’t obvious to everybody else in the room. Does he actually look like that when he's...
”Oh, baby, you want me to touch you? In front of them?”
”U-Uh–”
However, the women gasp.
”Yesss, touch him!”
A panicked look flashes on Michael's face, but safe to say it's replaced quickly. As Lincoln's hand slides up to his front, Michael gasps and clutches around him tighter.
"Wow..."
Each rub at his tip makes Michael twitch and squirm, hiding his face in Lincoln's neck. It's awfully high-pitched. Embarrassing. The woman filming has stopped moving too.
"That feels nice, doesn't it?" Lincoln huffs, smirking at the camera like it's funny to him. Then, he grinds visibly harder, and Michael chokes. "Aww, does it hurt now?"
The video ends.
With a stoic, calm face, Michael tries to see if there’s more. Nope. Okay. That’s the final one. Yup. No more videos of him whimpering in front of women. Berudgingly slowly, he raises his head at Lincoln. This is it.
”I– Michael, I didn't, I don’t–”
Lincoln better pray he sees another day.