My...Stepbrother? [boyxboy]

My...Stepbrother? {5}

                “No. Kory, no. He’s going to suck it up and accept you. We’re not going to live here if Trace can’t accept you for who you are,” mom said, that fierce protectiveness in her eyes. She squeezed my shoulder lovingly.

                “Mom, we’re going to live here as long as you love Brandon. I don’t care about what Trace thinks of me,” I said, rolling my eyes.

                Ah man! Couldn’t Trace just deal with it? He was going to split my mom and his dad up if he didn’t stop acting like such a jerk!

                “I’m going upstairs,” I said, smiling widely to show that I wasn’t upset. Mom gave me a concerned look as I walked away and up the stairs.

                I glanced at Trace’s bedroom door and sighed before knocking on it. I needed to talk to him before he split his dad and my mom up. I didn’t want that. I liked Brandon, and he made my mom so happy.

                “Get away you stupid fag,” Trace growled, opening the door enough so that he could glare at me through it.

                I shook my head and frowned. “Trace, I don’t care if you’re a homophobe. Can’t we just pretend to get along for the sake of our parents? They’re happy together and you’re making them upset,” I said sincerely.

                “Look, I don’t like you. At all. You’re hyperactive, immature, and gay. I will not pretend to get along with you or like you. Now go back in your room, and don’t you talk to me,” he hissed and slammed the door.

                Aw…that wasn’t nice! Pouting, I went into my bedroom and looked around in search of something to do. Hm…bed…

                I got on my bed and grinned before beginning to jump. Aw, my mattress was so jumpable! It was awesome!

                Until of course, I smacked my head and stumbled off the bed. I hit the ground and winced, rubbing my head and glaring at my ceiling. “Jerk,” I grumbled.

                “Kory? Why are you on the floor?”

                I looked up and over at my mom and pouted, pointing at the ceiling. “The ceiling punched me in the head,” I whined.

                Mom sighed. “Kory, honey, I told you to stop jumping on beds. You’re too old for that now,” she said, speaking as if I were a little kid again.

                “But I like jumping on beds,” I said, sticking my lower lip out and letting it tremble, giving my mom puppy dog eyes.

                “You have enough brain damage. You don’t need anymore,” she said simply, coming over and pulling me to my feet. I rubbed my head again and pouted.

                “Kory, please be honest with me. Did Trace hurt you? At all?” she asked, her eyes more serious than I had seen them in a while.

                I shrugged. “Nah, mom. I’m fine with him not liking the fact that I’m a cock sucker.” Seeing her face, I quickly added, “Not that I’ve actually sucked a cock before!”

                “Kory, just tell me if he says or does anything to you. You come first. You always do,” she said and hugged me tightly. She smiled and pulled away. “I love my Kory Monkey.”

                I groaned. “Mom! It was one time that I hung naked from the counter and ate a banana! And I was only 4!” I whined.