My...Stepbrother? [boyxboy]

My...Stepbrother? {23}

                “Trace, I had so much fun. It was more fun than Chuck E. Cheese’s!” I said joyfully.

                “Good to know a date with me is more fun than a place with shitty pizza and a guy dressed as a giant mouse,” Trace said, rolling his eyes.

                I pouted and crossed my arms. “You didn’t have a childhood, did you?” I whined.

                Trace smirked. “My childhood involved soccer balls and running up and down that hill next to the house to get in shape. The hill you always curse at.”

                “I HATE that freaking hill!” I cried and pouted deeper.

                “I’m sure it hates you too,” Trace said, unconcerned.

                “You’re sexy,” I said.

                “I’m sure I am,” he said, still unconcerned.

                I sighed and turned on the radio. We pulled up to a red light and Trace leaned over and gave me a rough kiss on the mouth before straightening up. I smiled softly at him. In his Trace-way, he showed that he loved me.

                “WITH EVERY SINGLE DOLLAR I’LL BE SURE TO BUY YOU FLOWERS! CAUSE MONEY AIN’T NO PROBLEM WHEN LOVE’S FREE!” I screamed along with the song currently blaring out of the radio.

                “Kory. Shut up,” Trace groaned.

                I opened my mouth to continue singing, and Trace slapped his hand over it. “Stop! Stop! I’ve seen them live, and you’re ruining this song for me!” he cried in annoyance.

                I licked his hand and he yanked it away. I smiled innocently at him and he glared, wiping his hand on the seat.

                “LATELY YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I SEE AND I CAN’T SEEM TO GET YOU OFF MY MIND!” I screamed and he slapped his hand back over my mouth.

                I licked it like my life depended on it. Instead of yanking it away, Trace grit his teeth and held it against my mouth. I glared down at it. Stupid Trace’s hand! How rude of you to interrupt my beautiful singing just because you’re jealous.

                After a few minutes, Trace slowly pulled his hand away. He wiped it on my cheek and I swatted at it, whimpering.

                “Ew! I hate my spit on my face! Why do you think it’s in my mouth? Where your dick should be?” I whined, running the back of my hand across my now wet cheek.

                “You are such a sexual person,” he said, shaking his head.

                “And yet, I’m the virgin,” I pointed out with a smug grin. Trace rolled his eyes and flipped me off, pulling into the parking lot of some ice cream place.

                He grabbed our jeans and tossed mine at me. We slipped into our jeans and got out of the car without bothering with our shirts. We went up to the window and ordered twist cones.

                Once we had them, we sat at one of the tables together, shaded by an umbrella. Trace looked around before taking my hand and kissing me.

                “We’re closer to home now,” he mumbled before licking his ice cream.

                I nodded in understanding, though I hated it. I wish that Trace would just come out, but I understood why he didn’t want to. It meant telling our parents we were dating and it meant having to deal with his homophobic soccer team.