My Brother's Kitten Pt. 01

“Hi kitten.”

I’m greeted as soon as I come through the door. It’s annoying. It’s so belittling and patronising. and most of all, it’s too fucking casual.

But that’s my brother for you– casual and carefree. on the edge of arrogance. Sure, it feels nice that he can act like nothing, but some acknowledgement of the fact that we haven’t spoken in two months would be nice.

Two months had passed, since I cursed him and his girlfriend out, and stormed out of his apartment.

“Mom’s just getting the stuff out of the car,” I tell him, as I pull back from his hug.

“Pull your claws back in, my little cat, she’s not here,” he says, noticing my reluctance.

The ‘she’ he’s referring to is, of course, his girlfriend; I really don’t like her.

As much as my brother’s carefreeness and arrogance can annoy me, I understand where it comes from. He’s his father’s son in every meaning. His unwillingness to talk about problems; his way of assuming that things he doesn’t feel like doing, will just be taken care of by someone else; his sudden mood changes, where he can be irrationally angry; his need for control– all of it comes from our dad. And this, this is what his girlfriend doesn’t understand– and that’s why I don’t like her.

The fight that made me yell at both of them was because of her blaming him and when I tried to defend him, telling her how she doesn’t understand him or what made him be this way, he got angry AT ME.

During the time since the fight, I’ve spent thinking about how to apologise, picturing how he would apologise, too. That’s why when mom asked if I wanted to come along, since she had to go drop some plates and stuff like that at his place, I said yes. I wanted to come with, so I could tell him I’m sorry, and he could tell me that he’s sorry, too.

How dumb and naive I am, as soon as I hear the ‘Hi kitten’, I realize he won’t apologise and I feel dumb for thinking he would.

My grumpiness is soon interrupted by mom coming into the apartment, carrying boxes and passive aggressively hinting at wanting some help.

“To be honest, mom, I don’t even know if I have space for this stuff,” my brother says, as I take a box from mom.

“Nonsense. Come, we’ll fix it.” It’s clear that she means that as a command to me and not him, as he says something about not getting in the way, before retreating to the living room.

After mom and I have rearranged his kitchen cabinets pretty much completely, we join him in the living room, sitting for a while, making small talk.

“Hey, you wanna stay and hang out for a bit? We can order pizza and watch some bad movies, and I’ll give you a ride back to your place later,” my brother offers me, when mom starts hinting about leaving.

“Sure, why not?” I reply, struggling to be as casual as he is, while in reality, I want to scream ‘yes!’ overjoyed that he shows an interest in hanging out with me.

Immediately after having said goodbye to mom, he goes into his closet.

“Should I even ask what the hell you’re doing in there?”

No response, he just comes back out with a cooler bag in hand.

“Had to store my beer somewhere, while mom was here,” he explains, while getting two bottles out. “You know how she starts her lectures about being like dad, as soon as anyone takes a sip of alcohol.”

I nod. I know exactly what he means. It’s partly understandable that she has her thoughts about alcohol, but it’s frustrating that she can’t trust two adults to have a drink.

He hands me the bag and goes back to the couch. “I’ll order the pizza, while you can put those back in the fridge, okay?” he shouts.

It’s really not a question; it’s something he just expects me to do, and honestly, I don’t mind it. He didn’t ask what I wanted either, but I can hear him on the phone ordering the pizza, again I don’t really mind, it’s just how he is. And truth be told, it feels kinda nice to not have to think about things.

The night goes on, full of pizza and beer and drinks; we’re just lazy, cuddling in front of the TV. We’re on our second movie, and I’m leaning on his shoulder with his arm around me. I’m not really paying attention to the movie, I just nod along and agree with his comments about it. Just enjoying feeling close to him again.

Worried about ruining the mood, I bring up the topic I’ve been thinking about all the time, but have been too anxious to ask.

“Where’s Annie?” I ask about his girlfriend.

Before answering, he sits up straighter, takes his arm away from me. Maybe, he’s just adjusting his seating, but I’m screaming internally that I did ruin the mood; I have ruined everything

“I don’t know, she’s gone,” he chuckles.

Before he can put his arm back around me, I literally throw myself at him, hugging him.

“Silly kitten, what’s going on?”

Happy, I look him in the eyes, my arms around him, and almost lying over him.

“I just never liked her.”

“Haha, yeah, that wasn’t a big secret,” he keeps laughing.

“Don’t be mean,” I complain, with exaggerated pouting lips.

He’s just laughing, not directly at me, it feels more like he’s laughing at the situation, and me jokingly trying to hide my relief of his girlfriend being gone.

Enjoying making him laugh, I take it further and climb up, straddling his lap and staring into his eyes.

“You’re mine! My brother! No one else gets you!” I tell him, mimicking an angry child.

His facial expression changes, and he stares back into my eyes. “Well, you probably will have to allow me to have some girlfriends, though.”

Once again, I feel belittled by him. It might be the alcohol in me that makes me experience the mood shift, but I stop mimicking a kid and look at him, annoyed.

“I’m not a fucking child, I’m nineteen, you can talk to me like an adult.” He’s staring back at me, confused about why I’m upset. “You see, this is why you actually won’t be able to have any long relationships, you’re too fucked up,” I continue.

“And who are you to judge? Aren’t you just as fucked up as me?” he says back, not angry or upset, just talking annoyingly calmly.

“That’s why you need someone like me,” I respond, not really sure what I’m insinuating.

His hands are now resting against my hips.

“Kitten…”

“Stop fucking calling me that. I have a name.”

“I know.”

“But seriously,” I start, not really sure where this is coming from, but part of me feels like this is how I’ve always felt. “No one knows you like I do. No one can take care of you like I can. You’re like dad and I’ve grown up, taught by mom how to handle him. I know you, where you come from in a way that no one else does.”

“Maybe mom is right, you can’t handle alcohol very well,” he responds, sounding serious. His hands are moving up to my waist and when I feel his touch on the skin that’s exposed below my crop top, I feel shivers all through my body.

“Don’t be like that. I’m trying to explain what’s wrong with us, and why any relationships we’re in never work,” I tell him.

“I know why they never work. I can be complicated and demanding, and I’m terrible at expressing feelings.”

I am slightly shocked by this openness and honesty from my brother; this is a very rare occurrence. Feeling a lot of feelings towards him, I lean forward, giving him a light kiss on the lips.

Now a kiss on the lips isn’t THAT strange in our family, but me sitting straddled across his lap and having this conversation makes it feel different, very charged.

“Danny,” I keep looking at him. “I know, don’t worry. I can and will take care of you.”

“You don’t understand.”

I interrupt him with another kiss, more firmly this time. “I do, I understand you completely. No one understands you like I do; no one can take care of you like I can.”

After placing my hands on his shoulders, they slowly wander down, over his t-shirt, down to his stomach.

Even before this, I felt like I knew a lot about my brother’s sex life. Late-night conversations, fueled by drinking and smoking, with both him and the various girls he’s had through the years, they have given me a general idea. Even sexually, he can be as demanding as in regular life; he sometimes gets too rough and he’s very much a dominant, are all things I’ve learned. Me, always having been pretty naturally submissive with the few guys I’ve been with, I don’t really see a problem with the things I’ve learned about him.

Earlier, his loose-fitting training pants had annoyed me, but now, with how easy I could slide my hand in under the waistband of them, I can see the positive aspects.

His eyes widen, as he feels my hand reaching down for his dick. He stares silently, while I slide back a bit on his lap, and grab his cock through his boxers. Gently, I move my hand back and forth.

“I’m serious, Danny. I’ll take care of you. I can please you better than anyone else.” I show him that I mean every word, with methodical strokes on his cock. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Catie, you don’t know what you are saying right now.”

“I do.” I feel him growing in my hand, as I lean forward to kiss him again, more passionately this time. When I break from the kiss, I take my hand out of his pants and get up off his lap, standing in front of him. I wait, I want him to make the next move to show that he wants this; otherwise, I’ll just leave and write it all off as being guided by alcohol.

“Kitten?” I understand that he asks for some reassurance, his voice almost sounding pleading.

I nod. “I’m your kitten,” I say, for probably the first time, acknowledging the nickname he’s given me.

“Take your top off.” His tone is sounding a bit more confident now.

I nod and pull the black top over my head, not wearing a bra so my small, perky b-cups are immediately exposed to him, my small nipples perking out.

He studies me a bit. “Pants.” His hesitation is gone, it’s now a clear order coming from his mouth.

I unbutton my pants and let them fall to the floor, now thinking that I should have worn some better panties if I had known; my plain-black thong doesn’t feel appropriate for how special this situation is.

His eyes wander up and down my slim body in silence, before he reaches out, showing me he wants me to come back to him.