My Cousin Moved In and Changed the Rules

Rubén arrived in the middle of the afternoon, when the light slanted through the hallway and the whole house smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Nico was on the sofa, laptop open and a folder of notes on his knees, pretending to study. The moment he heard the key turn in the lock, he knew something was going to change.

His cousin appeared with a broad smile and an enormous, rigid suitcase, the kind that looked as though it had slept in a thousand airports.

They hadn’t seen each other in years. As children, they had been inseparable for stretches of time, almost like brothers, through long summers and endless family meals. Rubén had always been the strong one, the loud one, the one who gave orders: the one who picked on Nico, called him soft, played rough jokes on him that were never quite cruel but always left him one step below. Nico, quieter and more delicate, had learned early on to endure it and to look at everything from a slightly lower place. Then Rubén had left to study in Montreal, and distance had done the rest. Years without seeing each other, touching each other, measuring themselves against each other.

Now he was coming back to live in none other than the same house. He would be staying there with Nico’s parents and Nico himself for the entire academic year. They would attend the same university, the Autónoma: Nico was starting his first year of Law; Rubén was already entering his third year of Business Administration. Two different stages, two nearby faculties and, yes, the same roof. Nico had thought about it a thousand times before he arrived. Watching him cross the threshold turned it from an idea into something real.

He was two years older, but time had worked on his body as it had on few others. Dark-skinned, three-day beard, broad chest covered in dark hair peeking out from the neck of his T-shirt. His arms seemed to tense even when he was doing nothing. He moved with a natural, almost insolent confidence. And there was something else, impossible not to notice when he came closer: the obvious weight between his legs, a thick bulge boldly outlining his trousers, a huge cock that was evidently soft and yet filled the fabric enough to distort it.

When he heard him come in, Nico sprang to his feet. Beside him, he looked smaller. Slim, fair-skinned, narrow-shouldered, almost hairless, with a face that still retained something adolescent: large eyes, soft lips. They embraced awkwardly, a collision of bodies that lasted a second too long. Nico felt his cousin’s hard chest crush against his face and, lower down, against his hip, that warm, heavy bulge pressing into him without the slightest attempt at concealment.

“You’re huge,” Nico said, immediately regretting it.

“And you’re still just as skinny,” Rubén replied, laughing. “You’d better get a little stronger, or they’ll laugh at you as soon as college starts.”

Nico’s mother, Marta, appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.

“Rubén!” she exclaimed. “Finally home. Let’s see those gifts—you must have brought half of America in that suitcase.”

Rubén set the suitcase down in the living room and opened it without thinking. He first took out a few carefully wrapped things: a bottle, some T-shirts, a package of coffee. Marta smiled, pleased, until her expression changed.

Half the suitcase was filled with clothes rolled into a heap. Wrinkled T-shirts, trousers, towels and, very visibly, several used pairs of underwear, clumped together, with the unmistakable look of having been worn more than once. A dense, masculine odor of dried semen and crotch sweat escaped into the air.

“Rubén!” Marta scolded him, amused and scandalized at once. “How can you bring this like that? It’s all dirty!”

Rubén shrugged, utterly unashamed.

“Sorry, Auntie. I haven’t done laundry since I left Canada,” he said, winking at her.

Marta shook her head.

“Well, Nico can surely help you. Have him show you where the washing machine is and how everything works.”

Nico felt his stomach tighten. He had seen the underwear. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from looking. They were large, made of thick cotton, some light-colored, others dark. Marked. Used. On the front of one white pair, he could make out a dried yellowish stain; on the back of another, a dark ring. They had belonged to the body, the cock, the ass of the man now standing less than three feet away from him.

“Of course,” he said in a thread of a voice. “I’ll help you.”

Rubén looked at him for a second longer than necessary, as though evaluating something.

“Perfect, little cousin,” he replied. “I knew you’d lend me a hand.”

Nico swallowed. The reunion had just begun.

***

The decision was made without ceremony, as decisions are when they have already been made for you.

“Nico,” Marta said later, after they had finished their coffee, “we’re going to move you to another room. Yours is bigger and gets better light. It makes sense for Rubén to have it—you know, we have to be good hosts.”

Nico nodded. He didn’t protest. He gathered his things and moved into the small room at the end of the hall, the one that had always been the guest room. Rubén came in behind him, watching him with half a smile, leaning against the doorframe.

“It suits you,” he commented. “Neater. More… you. Come on, show me mine.”

Nico felt the sting but said nothing. He followed his cousin into the room that, until an hour ago, had been his. Rubén dropped the suitcase onto the large bed, opened it again and began taking clothes out without any order.

“Hey,” he added casually, “while we’re at it, do my laundry, okay? I have no idea how things work here.”

It wasn’t exactly an order. Nor was it a request.

“Yeah, sure,” Nico replied, too quickly.

Rubén glanced at him and moved closer than he needed to. Nico took a step back and tripped over the bed. He fell sitting down, and his cousin, without apologizing, pushed him back until he was lying down. The body fell on top of him for a second, heavy and hot. Chest against chest. Thigh against thigh. And between Nico’s thighs, crushing against his trousers, Rubén’s thick cock, still soft but enormous, settled as though that space had always belonged to it.

“Relax,” Rubén laughed. “I don’t bite… usually.”

They struggled for a moment, more playfully than violently. Nico tried to sit up, but Rubén held him down with one hand on his shoulder and, with his hips, made a slow, calculated movement, rubbing the bulge against his crotch. Once. Twice. Nico let out a tiny gasp that he tried to disguise as a cough. He felt the blood rush downward, felt his cock swell at top speed inside his underwear until it pushed against the fabric, felt the tip grow wet almost immediately.

Rubén noticed. He noticed perfectly. He lowered his gaze, smiled at the small, tense bulge showing through his cousin’s trousers, and said nothing. He merely pressed his hips against him once more, very slowly, as if signing something, then moved away and set him free.

“You’re going to be a horny little thing,” he murmured, satisfied.

Nico got up, red to the tips of his ears, gathered the dirty clothes in both arms and went almost running to the laundry room. The garments were mixed together, clumped and still warm from the trip. Sweaty T-shirts, rolled-up socks and several pairs of underwear. He picked them up one by one. They were heavy, thick, carrying that unmistakable smell of a worked body, of the gym, of a man, of a cock that had spent hours shut away. He held them for a second too long. The soft cotton against his fingers. The front was the tightest part: there, in the sunken pocket where his cousin’s cock had rested, the fabric held a concentrated, sour, intimate smell, a mixture of sweat, old semen and the last drops of piss. Without thinking, Nico brought it to his nose for a second, then two, and inhaled deeply. The smell went straight to his head and just as directly down to his cock, which became rock-hard inside his trousers.

“Is that how you do it?” Rubén asked from the doorway.

Nico jumped and dropped the underwear at once.

“Yes,” he said. “Like that.”

He put the clothes into the washing machine slowly. Too slowly. Each garment was an excuse to breathe deeply, to let the smell remain inside him for one second longer. Rubén watched him in silence, arms crossed, with the crooked smile of someone enjoying the sight of him trembling.

“You’re good at this,” he commented at last. “It’ll come in handy having you here.”

Nico closed the door. When he turned around, his cousin was too close. His eyes dropped involuntarily and met that thick, sharply outlined bulge beneath the sweatpants, the cock drawn from top to bottom, so close to his face that, had he been on his knees, it would have been resting against his lips.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I suppose it will.”

Rubén smiled.

“This is only the beginning.”

***

The house fell silent as night came on. Marta and her husband went to bed early, tired from the commotion. Nico stayed behind tidying up without hurrying, trying to recover from the trembling that still ran through his body. From the hallway came the sound of water falling against tile.

The shower.

Nico knew it before he thought about it. The constant sound filled the house and, with it, an uncomfortable certainty. Rubén hadn’t closed the bathroom door. He had left it ajar, as though there were nothing to hide. Nico walked past with some flimsy excuse and saw just enough to make it impossible to forget: steam rising, the blurred reflection of a large, dark body moving calmly. Water ran over his shoulders, his hair-covered chest, down his firm abdomen and disappeared into the thick black pubic hair, from which his cousin’s thick, long cock hung. Soft, dark, heavy, with a broad head and large balls swinging beneath it whenever he moved. Nico stood rooted to the spot. It had never occurred to him that a guy could have something like that hanging between his legs and still walk around as if nothing were unusual.

Rubén soaped himself without hurrying, as though time didn’t matter. He ran his hand over his balls, fondled his cock while rinsing it, pulled back his foreskin with the natural ease of someone who felt no shame because he knew nobody would be able to look away. As if he knew he was being admired.

“Can you bring me the towel?” he called from inside in an ordinary voice.

Nico hesitated for a second. Then he obeyed.

When he entered, the steam struck his face. The smell of shower gel mingled with something denser, more human. Rubén turned off the water and stepped out of the shower uncovered, leaving everything on display, water dripping from the tip of his cock, thick even at rest, his balls red from the heat. He dried his neck, shoulders and chest, leaving the rest for last, without attempting to hide anything. When he finally passed the towel over his crotch, he lifted his cock with two fingers and shook it languidly in front of Nico, as though cleaning a work tool.

Nico looked away. Or tried to.

Rubén wrapped the towel around his waist and looked at the clothes he had taken off, heaped on the floor beside the mat. He picked up his jeans, socks and shirt, and seemed about to gather the underwear he had traveled in, which had been worn for who knew how many hours, when he stopped.

“Not the underwear,” he said, pointing. “Put that in the wash too.”

Nico picked it up. The fabric was still warm, damp in the crotch from the sweat of the journey. The smell rose straight to his nose, his throat, his chest: the stink of a cock shut away for hours, sweaty balls, something intimate he should never have smelled. He swallowed.

“Okay,” he replied.

He left with the underwear in his hand, went into his room and closed the door. His heart was racing. He had his cousin’s underwear between his fingers. He looked at it. He squeezed it, trembling. He searched for the front pocket, the hollow space where Rubén’s cock had been, and pressed his nose to it. The smell was stronger there, with no steam to disguise it, dense and personal, a direct blow to his lower belly. He went hard instantly, pushing against his pajama trousers. He squeezed his cock through the fabric and let out a moan that escaped without permission.

He wanted to do more. Much more. To put the whole thing in his mouth, suck it, spit on it and suck it again. But he didn’t dare.

He took a deep breath, opened the door and went straight to the laundry room. He put the garment into the washing machine and closed the door with an almost ceremonial gesture. When he returned to the hallway, Rubén’s door was already closed.

Nico leaned against the wall for a second. His body was asking him for things he still didn’t have permission to do.

***

The next morning, with classes still several days away, Rubén appeared in the kitchen with a coffee in his hand.

“We’re signing up at the gym,” he said.

Nico looked up.

“The gym?”

“Sure,” Rubén said with a smile. “A little training will do you good, right? You’re weak.”

He didn’t say it maliciously. Or perhaps he did, but wrapped in a joke. Nico agreed without arguing, so off they went.

The neighborhood gym was small and noisy, smelling of rubber and old sweat. Though he had never been there, Rubén moved through the place as if it were his own home. He quickly met a couple of guys and introduced Nico without thinking.

“He’s my little brother,” he said, draping an arm around Nico’s shoulders.

Nico felt the weight of the gesture and didn’t correct him.

Brother.

They trained together. Rubén loaded plates with ease, made loud comments and laughed when Nico got tired. At one point, Nico lay down on the bench to do presses, and his cousin positioned himself behind him as an improvised spotter.

“Come on, push,” he said, holding the bar firmly.

Nico looked up and found Rubén’s crotch directly above his face, barely a few inches away. Big. Outlined. His thick cock drawn beneath the shorts, hanging crookedly to the left, almost brushing Nico’s forehead each time Rubén helped him lower the bar. His balls formed a separate bulge, round and pressed against the thin fabric. He tried not to look, but it was impossible. Every time he opened his mouth to breathe, the air entered mixed with the sour, hot smell of his cousin’s sweaty crotch.

“Come on, harder,” Rubén insisted, without moving or stepping away. “Do you get distracted easily or what? Come on, little cousin, push like a man.”

Sweat ran down Nico’s temple, and it wasn’t only from the effort. Every time his cousin leaned over, the bulge in his shorts brushed the crown of Nico’s head, a minimal, soft contact that made his cock hard inside his shorts and left him no way to hide it.

When they finished, they went together to change. In the locker room, Rubén undressed without hurrying. He left everything hanging shamelessly while he folded his clothes, his cock swinging with every movement. He fondled his balls, scratched beneath his foreskin, tossed his soaked shirt down, and dropped his used underwear on top of the pile like a provocation. Then he walked naked down the corridor to the showers at the back of the gym, not caring who saw him.

Nico looked both ways to make sure he was alone. He pretended to search for something in his backpack. His cousin’s smell caught him. He moved toward the place where Rubén had left his clothes. He picked up the underwear and was surprised to see that it was the same pair from the night before, the white ones he himself had put in the wash.

How had they gotten back there? There was only one explanation: Rubén had gone back to the laundry room and put them on again.

Nico smiled. Pig, he thought.

He squeezed the fabric between his hands, feeling the heat it still held, his cousin’s fresh sweat mixed with the previous day’s old sweat. Unable to stop himself, he brought it to his face, searched again for the front pocket, pressed his parted lips there and inhaled deeply. The smell was brutal: sweaty cock, hot balls, a sweetish trace like pre-cum absorbed into the fabric. His cock hardened beneath his trousers as if it had received an order. He touched himself through the fabric, squeezed, pulled the tip out through the waistband, unable to contain himself. He brought the underwear to his mouth and sucked the fabric, bit the cotton, while rubbing his hard cock with his other hand.

“Hey,” a voice said behind him. “Nico, right?”

He spun around, his cousin’s underwear still in his hand and his cock sticking out of his trousers. A guy from the gym, in his early thirties, with a defined body, short beard and crooked smile, watched him with his arms crossed. He wore a sweaty gray T-shirt and a towel around his neck. And a very obvious erection outlined beneath his shorts.

“Yes?” Nico managed to say, trying to tuck his cock back into his trousers.

“I’m Hugo,” he said, without taking his eyes off the underwear in Nico’s hand. “I train here almost every day. Are you and Rubén really brothers? Because I’d say there’s something going on between you, and it’s definitely not familial.”

Nico hesitated for a second. Then he nodded.

“Yes. Brothers. I just take his clothes to wash them. Rubén’s a disaster.”

The other man smiled without judging him. He lowered his voice.

“Yeah, sure. And that’s why you were sucking on them, right?” Hugo stepped closer and adjusted his bulge without the slightest attempt at concealment in front of him. “Relax, kid, I’m not going to say anything. It turns me on. It really turns me on to see a young guy this horny for another man. I’m going to the showers, but before I go—” He headed toward them, then turned back and added, “You two really get me going. If you ever want a third to suck both of you off, let me know. My mouth is open any time.”

Nico remained frozen, unsure whether he had just felt exposed or been invited into something he still didn’t fully understand.

The sound of the shower stopped. Rubén came out, still wet, drying his hair, his cock swinging in front of him like a pendulum. He looked at Nico, then at the underwear in his hand.

“What was that guy saying?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Nico replied too quickly.

Rubén smiled. He came closer and pointed at his underwear.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “Take it home to wash. The way I like it. So I don’t have to tell you things twice.”

And he dressed with all the time in the world. Without underwear. He put his jeans directly over his cock and balls and left the locker room with Nico behind him, hypnotized by the way the bulge now showed even more clearly, without the restraint of underwear, swinging with every step.

***

The house was silent when Nico closed his bedroom door. He stood leaning against it for a few seconds, breathing deeply, his body still tired from training and his mind clouded by the smell of the locker room, the image of his cousin coming out of the shower, his dark cock swinging, Hugo’s comment, the explicit offer to suck them both off. Spending the rest of the day as though nothing had happened had been difficult, but he had managed it.

He was alone.

He opened his backpack and took out the treasure he had guarded all day: the underwear Rubén had spent hours and hours wearing, the pair Nico had put in the wash the night before and his cousin had retrieved to wear again.

He held it in front of his face. The fabric was heavy, still damp in places, the cock pocket darker, the backside marked by a yellow streak he hadn’t noticed that morning. It smelled of fresh sweat, hot skin, exertion, balls, dust stuck in the crotch. It smelled of Rubén. Nico closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. The smell filled his chest and went straight down to his belly, and from there to his cock, which hardened with his first breath.

He undressed. Completely. He lay on his back on the bed, still holding his cousin’s underwear. He thought of the bench press, the bar rising and falling, the bulge inches from his face, the smell of a sweaty crotch entering his nose as he pushed. He thought of the shower, the long, dark cock streaming with water, the balls reddened by the heat, the way Rubén had shaken it in front of him with two fingers as though it were nothing. He thought of Hugo, his knowing smile, the question—are you sure he’s your brother?—and the answer he had given without thinking. Why had he said it? Why had he liked his cousin playing at that, calling him his little brother in front of everyone? Why did the idea of Hugo sucking them both off turn him on so much, kneeling between their two cocks, his small one and his cousin’s thick, dark one, bumping head against head?

He spat into his hand and gripped his cock, harder than it had ever been. He began jerking off slowly with his left hand, while with his right he brought the underwear to his face. He pressed it to his nose and mouth, breathed deeply, stuck out his tongue and licked the inside of the fabric, in the front pocket where the smell was strongest, searching with the tip of his tongue for the salty trace of his cousin’s cock sweat. He sucked the fabric, bit it, ran his tongue over it as though it were skin.

His hand slowed, then sped up, squeezing beneath the glans. He raised his legs, ran the fabric over his balls, rubbed it against his ass, imagining that Rubén was the one doing it. He imagined his cousin lying on top of him, his enormous cock between Nico’s thighs, rubbing it against him without putting it inside, marking his territory with its smell. He imagined Rubén whispering in his ear, “Open your mouth, little cousin. Suck my balls like you’re dying to,” imagined the hoarse voice, the big hand gripping the back of his neck and pressing him against his crotch, the dark cock entering his mouth and reaching his throat. He moaned loudly and bit down on the underwear so he wouldn’t scream.

He was jerking off quickly now, with his whole hand, his cock glossy with saliva and pre-cum. Every breath brought an image: his cousin laughing, his cousin giving orders, his cousin without underwear, his cock loose inside his jeans, his cock swinging as he walked, his cock aimed at Nico’s mouth. He felt the orgasm rising from his feet, warming his legs, tightening his balls.

Then the door opened.

Nico froze, his cock in his hand and his cousin’s underwear pressed to his mouth, soaked with saliva.

Rubén stood in the doorway, leaning there calmly, watching him. He said nothing. He didn’t move forward. He didn’t retreat. He simply held Nico’s gaze. Nico saw him bring his hand to the bulge in his trousers and squeeze it once, slowly, without taking his eyes off him.

Several endless seconds passed, and then Nico’s body could hold back no longer. A spasm ran through him from head to toe. He came without touching himself anymore, his cock jumping in his open hand, thick, white, hot jets shooting out one after another, splattering his face, lips, neck, chest and belly. The first landed on his cheek; the second went straight into his open mouth; the rest fell in pools across his skin. He closed his eyes, ashamed and exposed, vulnerable, still breathing unevenly, the taste of semen mixing with the taste of his cousin’s underwear.

Rubén smiled with quiet malice.

“Fuck, little cousin,” he murmured. “What a filthy mess.”

He came to the bed, crouched for a moment and ran his thumb over Nico’s cheek, gathering a blob of semen. He brought it to his mouth and sucked it slowly without stopping his gaze, then straightened up again.

“You can use my underwear to clean yourself,” he said. “On one condition.”

“What is it?” Nico asked without thinking.

“You put it on afterward. Dirty. With all your cum stuck inside it. And you don’t take it off until I tell you to.”

Rubén turned and left. The hallway fell silent again. Nico cleaned himself slowly, obediently, with the fabric still warm, wiping it over his face, neck and chest, gathering up the thick semen until his skin was sticky and the cotton soaked through. When he finished, he pulled the underwear up his legs and left it on. It felt heavy and damp, marked inside by his own orgasm and outside by his cousin’s sweat. His cock, still soft, settled into the same hollow where Rubén’s had been.

He was still motionless when his cousin appeared at the door again.

“All week,” he added quietly.