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Byron's been acting weird lately, and Dylan hasn't felt comfortable or safe around him, especially when they were alone. Because whenever they were, Byron saw it as an opportunity to put his hands on his younger brother; he liked to put them on his sides and hips, to be more specific. Sometimes his chest if he was feeling extra risky thay day.
He hated it. He hated every moment he spent near Byron. He didn't feel safe coming home anymore and has tried everything in his power to spend as little time as possible at home. But, despite everything, he still ends up back there anyways. It's never going to end.
On this night, Dylan was up in his room by himself. He'd been spending more and more time in there everytime he has to come home. It's the one place where he truly feels like he can be safe, happy, and comfortable.
Of course, Byron wasn't a fan of his brother spending so little time with the family, especially him. The house feels lonely without seeing that beautiful, tall, golden-blonde haired boy walking around the house. He misses him. He misses seeing that sweet smile on his face, and those gorgeous blue eyes. He misses feeling his soft skin against his hands, and the way Dylan would squirm under his touch.
Maybe it's about time they spent some quality time together. And since their parents are out for the night, it'll be just the two of them for the night.
Just Byron and his sweet younger brother.
With a confident smile, Byron walked upstairs to Dylan's room. He walked in without knocking first, as usual, chuckling as Dylan yelped at his sudden entrance.
"What the— Jeez, learn how to fucking knock, asshole!" Dylan spat, clutching his fists tightly.
Byron just grinned. "Sorry, little bro, I just wanted to see how you were doing," He said.
"What do you want from me, Byron?" Dylan asked, annoyed. Though, there was a hint of discomfort in his tone.
Byron approached Dylan, sitting down on the side of his bed. "I just want to spend time and see you, is that too much to ask?" He reached out and cupped Dylan's cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "I hardly ever see you around the house anymore; you're always locked up in here or at your little boyfriend's house.."
Dylan scoffed, shoving Byron's hand away. "Little boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend, dude. I'm not gay."
Amused, Byron laughed. "Oh, is that so? Then who's that Eric guy that wants to hang out with you all the time, hm? Is he 'just a friend'?"
God, Dylan hated whenever his brother would tease him. He always knew how to push his buttons and it embarrassed him to an unnecessary degree. Sometimes, he'll do it around people just to embarrass him, and everytime he's done it Dylan would want to kill himself over it.
The worst time was when he read his journal and "accidentally" brought up Dylan's fetishes. He didn't come home for almost two whole weeks after that incident, as he felt like his family didn't view him the same way anymore after finding out what he was into.
Dylan crossed his arms. "Yeah, he's just a close friend of mine. Nothing more. Now shut up and get out of my room."
Dylan stood up, grabbing Byron by the arm in an attempt to pull him out of his room. Byron laughed again, pulling Dylan in for a hug and falling back on the bed.
"See? This is what I mean! You've been so distant lately and it's been making me sad," He said, hugging Dylan tighter as he tried to escape.
"Yeah, well, I've just been stressed out with school, okay? Now would you please stop hugging me so tight?" He was lying. It wasn't school, it was Byron. He can't stand living in the same place as someone who has, on multiple occasions, touched him in ways no older brother should ever touch their younger brother.
He felt disgusted with the idea of having to live with Byron. The thought of being within five feet of him made him want to crawl into a hole and die.
Byron ran his hands through Dylan's hair, a wide grin still plastered in his face.
"Aww, my poor baby brother is all worked up 'cause of school!" He cooed, pinching Dylan's cheek. "Maybe he should spend a little time with his big, strong, older brother to take his mind of off things?"
Dylan grumbled in frustration. "I'm not— fine! I'll fucking hang out with you!"
Satisfied with Dylan finally agreeing to hangout, albiet very reluctant, Byron let go of him. He stood up and began walking out of Dylan's room.
"Great! I'll be waiting downstairs for you; I've got a movie picked out that I think you'll really like."
Once Byron leaves, Dylan let out a sigh of relief. It was brief moment where he felt relieved he wasn't around his older brother. Though, his relief drained once he realized he was going to have to be around him again for a, indefinite amount of time.
He wasn't religious, but he prayed Byron picked a short movie.
Time moved slowly as Dylan made his way downstairs, his footsteps thumping softly against the stairs. He dreaded every possible scenario that could happen right now. He could already feel hands all over his body, grabbing him and touching him. The hands were cold, and though they were just a figment of his imagination, they felt real as they touched and caressed his skin.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see the dark living room, the only light accompanying it being the light from the comically large television they had. He could see Byron's figure moving around from the hall.
From here, he looked like a stalker in a horror movie. They way he body moved, the way he was so obscured by the dark shadows. It sent shivers throughout Dylan's body.
Dylan entered the living room, hoping he wouldn't be noticed so quickly, but Byron stops what he's doing and turns to him.
"Hey, there you are! I was wondering when you were coming down," Byron said, a wide grin on his face upon seeing his litte brother sit down on the couch. "You ready to hang out with your big bro?"
"I... I guess so," Dylan replied, shrugging.
Byron steps back from the television and sat on the couch, a small space between him and Dylan. It was tolerable, but discomforting, though Dylan tried not to think about it and tried focusing on the movie instead.
To his surprise, Byron had picked Natural Born Killers as the movie they'd watch together. As unnatural it seemed that he'd coincidentally picked his favorite movie, it felt... weirdly comforting. Seeing those visuals he's probably seen at least ten times by now made him feel a sense of security, even if his current situation was far from it.
It was probably the calmest he's ever felt at home in a while.
As the movie went on, Byron couldn't help but notice and smile at how absorbed Dylan looked. He thought Dylan would get bored and try to sneak away, but from how genuinely interested his brother looked, it seemed he made the right choice picking up this movie at the video store instead of Titanic. They both would've fallen asleep half-way through anyways.
He stopped paying attention to the movie entirely now, his eyes locked onto his brother. He loved how he looked right now, leaning in with his chin resting on his hands like a toddler watching cartoons. He loved how he could see the light in Dylan's eyes and that vibrant blue return in them; he hadn't seen either of those in a long time, and it made Dylan look lifeless.
Dylan was so distracted right now, his attention entirely on the movie. Byron thought now was the perfect time to make a move. He inched closer to Dylan, making as little noise as possible to not draw attention to himself. He got closer and closer until he was right next to Dylan, where he wedged himself into the space behind him.
Of course, this got Dylan's attention, but he was grabbed before he could try to run off.
"Byron... what are you doing?" Dylan asked, his voice wavering. He knows what's going on, he just doesn’t want to believe it.
Byron hushed him softly, a hand exploring his body.
"Just pay attention to the movie, bud. Don't pay any attention to me."
His hand (with a bit of struggle) undid Dylan's fly on his pants and crept its way inside, causing Dylan to gasp and try to squirm away. But Byron stopped him, putting his hand over Dylan's mouth.
"Shhh... shhh... you're okay... just act like I'm not here." He glanced to the television. "Just watch your movie and don't think about me."
Byron's hand continued to move lower in Dylan's underwear until his fingers brushed lightly against his clit. He bit his lip, beginning to rub gentle circles against the tender flesh.
While he did this, he'd continue to hush Dylan, trying to get him to calm down. He clearly wasn't enjoying this, which bothered Byron a lot; he was just showing him some love, why was he being so damn difficult about it?
He began to pick him his speed, grinding his fingers harder and harder against Dylan's sensitive clit. He began breathing heavily, his cock hardening and pressing uncomfortably tight against his jeans. Dylan was whimpering, his pleas muffled under Byron's hand.
Then, he felt tears on his fingers.
"Aww... don't cry... it's okay..." He whispered, kissing Dylan on the cheek. "Am I being too rough for you, bud? I'm sorry, I'll slow down for you.."
Instead of doing that, however, he instead moved further down and inserted a finger inside of Dylan's pussy without warning. Dylan cried out, tears now flowing down his cheeks uncontrollably. He tried to wiggle away, but Byron was too strong for him to do anything.
"Fuck... you're so tight..." Byron panted, shoving another finger inside.
This isn't real, this is all just a dream. Dylan told himself. He wanted to believe so badly none of this was real, but his beliefs were crumbling, shattering as the reality that this was no dream, that his brother was molesting him. He couldn't stop himself from crying, and he couldn't stop any of this from happening.
And the worst part was that he was getting told to ignore it all and focus on the movie, which was still running in the background. It was drowned out to Dylan though, all the music and dialogue was muffled, and the only thing he could hear was his brother's pants and the disgusting wet sound of fingers being forcefully thrusted into him, accompanied by his pathetic sobs and whimpers.
Disgust washed over Dylan as he felt something wet come out of him and his brother groan in satisfaction. Byron slipped his fingers out and pulled his hands out of Dylan's pants.
Byron's fingers were drenched in the disgusting wetness, dripping off onto the couch. He came. He came and he didn't even want to.
Shaking, Dylan stood up, not bothering to fix his opened fly.
"Wait, Dyl, where are you going?" Byron asked, standing up and putting his non-sticky hand on Dylan's shoulder. It was quickly shoved off, however.
"I'm... I'm gonna go to bed now..." Dylan tearfully said.
Byron frowned. Was he too rough with him? He knows Dylan is—or at least was—a virgin, so his tearful reaction made a lot of sense. Still, it made Byron pretty upset that Dylan was acting like this.
"Alright... goodnight, Dylan."
Dylan didn't answer back, rushing out of the living room and back upstairs to his room, where he immediately threw him onto his bed and burst into tears, clutching his pillow tightly.
Why him? Why did he have to be the one to suffer through all of this? Why did he have to stuck with a brother who was obsessed with him and has groped him multiple times without any repercussions?
He wished he was never born.
He wished his brother wasn't a fucking rapist who has tried to be incestuous with him on more than one occasion.
He unclutched his pillow, reaching for a stuffed animal he had hidden on his bed. He held the toy tightly, holding it against his chest and putting his face against it. The scent from it being freshly washed broughg comfort to him, relaxing his senses and lessening his tears somewhat.
He fell asleep, holding the plushie close.
An hour or so later, after he finished the rest of the movie alone, Byron went upstairs to check on Dylan. Poor boy was really upset earlier, so he thought the least he could do was see how he was doing and maybe offer a bit of comfort. He quietly entered Dylan's room and approached his bed, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy. He chuckled to himself as he got closer, noticing how Dylan was holding a stuffed animal close to him.
Wow, he's seventeen and still sleeps with stuffed animals? How adorable.
He crawls onto Dylan's bed, his erection throbbinv eagerly as he stared at Dylan's sleeping form. He looked so innocent, so pure, so vulnerable. He was perfect in every way.
In the blink of an eye, he was naked from the waist down, and so was Dylan, who was still asleep, but was trying to cover himself up because of the sudden cool air hitting his skin
Byron pulled Dylan's legs down and put them over his shoulders, causing Dylan to stir slightly. Without thinking, and without preparation, Byron forcefully slammed himself into Dylan.
Dylan's eyes shot open and he yelped loudly. He tries to say something, but his mouth is quickly covered by Byron's hand once again.
"Shh... shhh... just go to sleep... go back to sleep..." Byron said in-between grunts.
He felt like he was being torn apart from the inside-out. He couldn't lie to himself this wasn't some endless nightmare anymore, this was real, and it was excruciatingly painful.
He began to cry again, now wailing out in pain. He tried to push Byron off of him, but his arms were weak and uncooperative with him. All he could do was lie down and take the intruding cock in his body. He was powerless against his brother.
He wanted it all to end. He wanted to die. His one safe space in the house had now been tainted by his rapist, who he once thought of as a brother.
Everything had been tainted by him. The house, his favorite movie, his room. Everything. It all reminded him of Byron.
And no one but him knows any of this, not even his parents, and not even Eric. But would he even be able to tell anyone about this? Or would he just be putting himself into even more danger, allowing Byron to abuse him further for telling everyone their "little secret"?
He didn't know.
He didn't want to know.
And the thought of no one coming to save him hurt. No one would hear him crying, and no one would be there to welcome him with open arms to cry.
He's damaged once Byron finally leaves, giving him a kiss and a "goodnight" before leaving Dylan hurt and bleeding. It was almost mocking how casual he acted after he had just raped his brother in his sleep.
Dylan stared at the ceiling for a while, shaking with tears streaming down his face. He can't live like this anymore. He can't live here anymore. It's all ruined, forever destroyed by someone he thought was family.
He didn't want to live in his body anymore; that was ruined, too. Both literal and figurative. He could still feel Byron's hands squeezing at his breasts, making some gross comment about how "slutty" it was that he didn't cover them up even though he wanted to be seen as a boy. The nasty comments Byron had made about him all blurred together, as they were practically the same: he was calling Dylan a "slut" and poking at the fact he "wasn't really a boy" because of his feminine features he still had.
He curled up again, the stuffed animal he had earlier still in his hands. He felt so small, and he could feel himself getting smaller and smaller the longer he held onto the toy.
But there was no one to comfort him.
Just the toy.
But even if it was just the toy, he clung onto the comfort it brought him, allowing it to make him feel small enough to where he could forget about all of this and go back to a time where none of this was happening and he was so pure and innocent.
The memories may have been faint, but they were enough to put him to sleep.