Work Text:
July 1989
The music was nice and loud, the club lights were bright enough to create the right atmosphere. This place was really In, Lyle thought, his friend had seen it right. He was with a couple of girls who had immediately recognized him. Cuties, yes.. but not too much. His mind was elsewhere, at that moment. Erik was not with him on the dance floor, but was sitting at the bar drinking a few too many drinks.
He craned his neck to get a better view of where he was sitting, while dancing to the tune of Ice Ice Baby. He bit his lip nervously when a guy completely occupied his view.
He had to keep an eye on him. Absolutely. One of the two girls tried to get closer to him, whispering something like ‘Do you want to come up?’ The music was loud, sure, but not enough to drown out her voice. He declined without thinking twice. He had no intention of leaving Erik.
She walked away, practically offended and rejected.
‘Asshole.’
*
Erik pulled up his stool to the bar counter and ordered another Long Island. It was probably his third round. He’d had a shitty morning. He’d lost that damn tennis match. A disaster. His father’d made a scene, storming onto the court and firing his personal trainer, calling him incompetent and an opportunist.
He’d both elbows on the table, his gaze down. He was starting to get a slight headache from too much alcohol in his system, but he didn’t want to stop. He’d promised himself, that night he’d drink so much that he’d forget everything by tomorrow.
He downed the Long Island like it was fresh water. He gulped it all down in one gulp. He looked behind him. Lyle, as always, wasn’t taking his eyes off him. Like he couldn’t take care of himself. He clicked his tongue and turned his head in the opposite direction again. His attention was caught by a man sitting a few stools away from him, who was practically devouring him with his eyes. At first he frowned, confused, wondering what the fuck that guy wanted, but then, noticing the insistence, he let out something that could resemble a smile, raising one corner of his mouth and immediately lowering his gaze, embarrassed.
Another drink arrived, which he hadn’t ordered at all.
‘That man offers it.’ The bartender said. Erik looked at him and thanked him. At that point, the man stood up, walking towards him.
‘Hey…i'm Michael.’
‘Erik…Menendez.’
*
Lyle felt a tightness in his stomach, as if someone had just twisted his insides. Who the fuck was that man and why was he so close to Erik. And why was Erik so close to that man? He pushed those thoughts away. His brother was free to do what made him feel good. Erik wasn’t his. He never had been. Not even that time. That one time they’d had an intimate moment. And yet, despite those conflicting thoughts, his mood was unsettled, confused. He was feeling something strange. Something he never wanted to feel after that. And yet it was there, consuming him. Lyle was jealous as fuck right now. He set his jaw and gritted his teeth, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles were white. He exhaled loudly. He wouldn’t take his eyes off him. Not for a second.
*
Erik had lost count of the drinks he’d had. He was pretty drunk and he was starting to like that guy, Michael. Could it be the alcohol? He thought to himself, flirting with the boy. Michael put a hand on his thigh, leaning close to his ear and whispering something Erik couldn’t understand. He was too drunk for that too. He smiled embarrassedly. He was really too close. He didn’t even have time to ask him what he’d said. Michael was on the ground. Lyle on top of him, punching him hard. He widened his eyes, recovering for a few moments from his confusion.
‘Lyle.. what the fuck..’
His brother was furious. He was yelling insults at the boy.
‘Don’t touch him. Don’t even try to touch him.’
Michael was on the ground, trying to shield himself from the punches. Lyle broke his eyebrow. His knuckles were stained with his blood.
‘Lyle, stop it. What the fuck are you doing?’ Erik gathered what little strength he had left and tried to lift Lyle, yanking him by the shirt. A group of people called security and a man at least six feet tall rushed over, grabbing Lyle by the arm and throwing him out the door.
‘Fuck you! Don’t touch me, you’re ruining my shirt.’
Erik followed soon after
*
‘Lyle, what the fuck is wrong with you? You almost killed him.’ Erik said, slurring slightly. The alcohol was really doing him a disservice, almost completely numbing his senses. Mind clouded. Eyes heavy. Sounds muffled.
Lyle pointed a finger at him, touching his chest.
‘Shut up and get in the car. You’re dead drunk.’
‘Who the fuck are you, my girlfriend? You had a jealous fucking fit. Are you out of your mind?’ Erik yelled. Lyle didn’t answer. He grabbed his arm and dragged him into the car.
*
Lyle was screaming everything at him. He was furious, pissed off, and most of all, blinded by jealousy. He knew about his brother and what he doing, but witnessing it for himself was a whole other thing. He didn’t think he was so jealous. Fuck, Erik was… no. He had to get it out of his head once and for all. He wasn’t his… even if he wanted to.
‘Have you decided to get fucket by the first guy who comes along? Look at you, you can’t stand up. Are you so stupid as hell not to figure it out on your own?’
Erik muttered something, meaningless.
‘Jesus Christ, Erik. You’re so fucking careless.’ He blurted out, but his brother still didn’t give a sign. He pounded the steering wheel with his fists.
‘Christ, Erik. Say something.’ He yelled again.
Erik had his head pressed against the window, his eyes half closed. He felt a burning sensation starting in his stomach and spreading to his throat. Doughy mout and his tongue numb. His head was pounding. He felt all the alcohol he had drunk rising up his throat.
‘Stop… please… stop… stop the car. I’m going to…’
‘NO NO NO, NOT IN MY FUCKING CAR.’
Lyle pull over to the side of a completely deserted road and apart from a streetlight with a dim light illuminating the asphalt, there was absolutely nothing else. Erik immediately opened the door and rushed out of the vehicle, driving away into the countryside. One retch, two, and he began to thow up everything.
Lyle rushed to his aid. He grabbed a bottle of water from the back and went towards him. He’d hear Erik moaning.
‘God.. I feel shit..’ another retch. He was doubled over, holding his stomach, while his brother held his head up.
‘You’re a pussy, Erik. You can’t even hold your liquor.’ He teased, handing him the bottle of water. Erik stood up, wiping his lips and grabbing the bottle of water. He drank it slowly.
‘Fuck you Lyle.’
He flopped onto the hood of the car, exhausted and feeling like his head was pounding so bad. Lyle sat down next to him. No one said anything for a while. Just only them with the sound of silence. Lyle snorted, scratching the back of his neck.
‘I..I’m sorry. I lost my mind. I didn’t think I’d react like this. I thought… I thought I was over it, you know?’
Erik frowned, not being able to connect what he was referring to, but before he could ask, Lyle kissed him. A barely perceptible kiss, but he did it. He had wanted it so badly, practically to the beginning. He closed his eyes. His heart raced. His stomach tightened, but not from jealousy this time. Erik didn’t react.
A few moments later he pulled away from him, looking him straight in the eyes. Neither of them said a word.
The tension was palpable, the desire too, but Lyle felt so guilty. He apologized again, running his hands through his hair in despair.
‘Jesus Christ. I’m a mess.’ He cursed, getting agitated. Had he screwed up? Probably. They made their situation clear from that one time they had an intimate moment, a particularly intimate one. They both said it was fun, but it would never happen again.
Wrong.
Lyle had never forgotten that time. Every evening after that, he imagined Erik naked next to him, touching him, massaging him, exactly as he had done before. God he loved being touched like that by him.
On the other hand, Erik had done exactly the same thing. He couldn’t forget his brother naked beneath him, writhing in pleasure. Several times he’d devoted his imagination to that scene, feeling wrong, a moment after he finished. He couldn’t do anything about it. They couldn’t do anything about it. After everything they had suffered, being together in that sense was the only way to not feel dirty, even though the situation was far from right.
Jose Menendez, that dirty piece of shit, had completely destroyed them. Physically, emotionally and mentally. They had developed that morbid and forbidden bond, because of him. Initially it was just protection, then it degenerated. They wanted to normalize and justify their father’s actions. Even though there was absolutely nothing normal about it. There was nothing in that family that could be considered normal. Not even the two of them.
Lyle kept swearing, getting pissed at himself.
‘Lyle.. LYLE!’ Erik screamed, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him towards him. His brother’s face stopped inches from his own. Both of their eyes were distracted from each other’s lips. The breaths intertwined, becoming one.
‘Stop being a pussy!’
And without Lyle being able to reply, Erik pounced on him, kissing him possessively. Lyle took a few steps back but managed to support his brother’s weight, returning to where he was. They continued kissing violently, ending up lying on the hood of the Porsche. Lyle over Erik. Erik on top of Lyle. Lyle on top of Erik again. They stayed like that.
The desire was beyond imagination, beyond any thought of depravity. Yes, because depravity occupied 98% of their minds.
‘Fuck, Erik. You’re making me horny.’ Lyle panted into his mouth as he caressed his brother’s palate with his tongue. Erik squirmed beneath him, kissing him more.
‘I have been for a while.’
He quickly undid his pants, doing the same to Lyle’s.
‘No, no, little brother. I decide how to fuck you.’
Erik smiled mischievously and clicked his tongue. Lyle grabbed his side, turning him so that his belly was flat on the hood.
The older brother threw his head back, patting Erik’s back. He leaned over him, kissing and biting his ear.
‘If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?’ he said fearfully, knowing everything Jose had done to him.
‘You’re not dad, Lyle. I fucking want you.’
And without having to repeat it, he grabbed his hips and slid inside him. Erik let out a scream that was a little too high-pitched. He coverd his mouth with his hand.
For his part, Lyle was in another world. Nothing compared to what he was doing. He felt exactly in the right place. With him. With his brother. He wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.
He grabbed his buttock, squeezed it tightly between his fingers. He leaned down again, biting into Erik’s shoulder, grunting in pleasure. Erik automatically contracted his butt muscles, causing his brother to lose all control.
‘Ah.. fuck Erik, you’re so fucking tight. You’ll make me come soon. He groaned, torturing his lips to concentrate on not coming at that exact moment. He increased the pace of his thrusts without realizing it. Erik was there, beneath him, in the throes of the pleasure and confusion of the moment and still under the influence of alcohol. He swallowed hard. They wouldn’t last long. Neither of them.
‘Just like you wanted, right?’