I watched Isaac as he played, leveling out my own time on percussion. I was, after all, his metronome. It felt good to be able to control the music, although it was my responsibility to make it good--perfect, and nothing less. Isaac smiled at the crowd as he did his thing, amazing as ever. He glanced at Taylor and I felt a small pang of jealousy. He rarely looked back at *me* during concerts, although Taylor was certainly a picture. His intensity was captivating, singing his heart out up there.

The end of the song brought the end of the show--it went quickly, as usual. We waved to the shrieking crowd and I hopped up from behind my drum set to join my brothers at the front of the stage to take our final bows. Isaac grabbed my right hand, Taylor my left, and I beamed as we faced the endless crowd and sea of noise. They were *my* brothers, and *I* knew them best. We finished our bows and jogged backstage.

After the high-fives and grins among the stage staff, my brothers and I congregated in the small back room equipped with couches and munchies. I attacked the Dr.Pepper and crashed on the sofa. It felt great to sit back, victorious after a show.

Isaac sat down beside me and I smiled at him, awaiting comment. "Good show," he nodded and patted my knee. I held my breath and he leant in, kissing me gently on the lips. My heart fluttered and I let out my breath as he sat back and nursed his iced tea. "*Great* show," Taylor said and bent to kiss Isaac, then entreated me to lean forward and offer my lips to his. He took up the chair opposite our couch and blew a sigh through his teeth, his cheeks a rosy blush. He always worked the hardest up on stage. and it was a wonder he wasn't at all bushed afterwards.

"Hey, guys," our father entered the room and beamed. "Let's get a move on, Mom's waiting for us back at the hotel." We nodded and gathered our backpacks from where we'd left them. As I did so, I wondered if Isaac or Taylor felt the same faint guilt in front of our father as I did. What would he do if he found out about us? Luckily, my brothers and I had plenty of time alone at the hotel. Being swamped with people all the time, our parents and coworkers were gracious about giving us time to ourselves when it was possible.

In the van I sat beside Isaac, who brushed his long fingers over my thigh. I glanced at him once or twice, but we kept out eyes forward and nonchalant to be inconspicuous.

In the elevator, my face flushed as if it were a sauna; on one side of me stood my father, watching the floor numbers change, and on my other side, Isaac was entwining his fingers in mine and stroking my hand. I heaved a nervous sigh and stepped off on the ninth floor after ourfather.

At eleven, Raiders of the Lost Ark was on HBO, so I sat back on my bed to watch it, nibbling a peach from room service. I was hardly in the mood to eat, but it was good for me, and I trusted anything that came under a silver dish.

I heard a knock on the door, got up, and opened it to Isaac, as I expected. I invited him in to watch the movie with me. He climbed onto the huge bed with me and shared the peaches.

"Man, Harrison Ford's a beast," he laughed and I chuckled, nodding. Isaac's running commentary was the best part of late-night movies. Somewhere around the snakepit scene, Isaac began to stroke my hair and the back of my neck, making my heart pound. My breath came heavier when he brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed it, moving his hand up under my shirt and smoothing his fingers over my stomach. With two fingers he deftly unfastened my jeans, and I closed my eyes and laid back onto the pillows. I allowed him to pleasure me, caressing my erection that steadily grew with his touch. It wasn't wrong--this I'd long since resolved in myself. Anything that felt this good couldn't possibly be wrong.

With Isaac I didn't feel like so much of a baby. Not like with Taylor, who always kissed my perfectly smooth stomach and pubis, reminding me that I still wasn't ripe into adolescence. Isaac kindly avoided these sore points of my ego, instead only kissing and touching what he knew made me feel good.

"Do you want me to turnt he movie off?" Isaac asked, interrupting the wash of pleasure I was sinking back into. "No, just turn it down," I said. "If Mom or Dad wanna come in, I'll get under the covers and pretend to be asleep, and you say you were watching the movie." "Good idea," he said and stretched for the remote, turning down the volume. The chance was slim to none that either of our parents would want to come in, but it was always good to know we had a plan secured.

Karen Allen screamed in the background as I moaned, Isaac's hands stroking the hard branch of my penis. I tugged my shirt up over my head and let it fall to the floor. Isaac kissed my bare chest, closing his mouth around my nipple and gently biting. I held the back of his head, feeling his soft, honey-coloured curls between my fingers and on my skin, imploring him in strained breaths to please move down.

"Tell me what you want," Isaac whispered, his lips millimeters from my own. I felt his warm breath against my mouth and begged for his kiss, which he gave to me sweetly. I threw my arms around his neck and whimpered softly as he thrust his tongue deep into my mouth--he tasted like peaches.

He slipped out of my grasp and I clenched my hands around the pillows above my head, trying to level my breathing as he slid my jeans and boxers down my waist and legs. The only downside to being with Isaac was that, unlike Taylor, he made me feel like more of a girl. He touched and caressed me with a gentleness, a delicacy as if I were china, and I rarely spoke but often silently pleaded for him to be more aggressive. Taylor, on the other hand, could stand to be more tender at times. It was Taylor who brought out the more kinky side in me, enticing me to play; to enjoy the sharp fingernails down my flanks and the less than gentle biting of my earlobe or nipple, both of which left marks occasionally. We were careful, my brothers and I, not to make any incriminating marks where they might be seen by anyone but ourselves--it wouldn't do to have the public or anyone else know about us.

"Oohh... mmh..." I grasped Isaac's shoulders as he gently pushed my thighs apart, brushing his lips against the stiff flesh of my erection. I felt him take me in his mouth, just a bit at first, only softly sucking on the head of my penis. If there was one thing to be sure of in a homosexual relationship, it was the certainty that your partner knew exactly how to drive you wild, and that was just what my brothers were so good at.

I clenched my teeth, tossing in anxiousness where I lay. I gasped and my body jolted as Isaac went deeper, and I felt his hands steady my ankles. Suddenly, I felt as though I absolutely could not come off without a little abuse. "Ike, stop, stop," I breathed, and shivered as he slowly took his mouth from me, sat up, and looked at me in question. "Um, there's a couple pieces of cloth in my suitcase," I nodded at the bag on the floor. "What for?" he shook his head. I blushed.

"Uhm... to tie me up?" I said meekly, as if he'd smack me for suggesting it. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at me as if I'd asked him to chain me to the bed and beat me with hot wires, a thought, in fact, that Taylor would've entertained for a moment before realizing we neither had chains nor hot wires. "No, geez, that's cruel," he said. "Does Taylor do that to you?" I was surprised Taylor didn't do it to *him*. "No," I lied. "Sometimes." "Do you like it?" he asked. I hesitated. "Sometimes." He clucked his tongue and stroked my cheek with the backs of his coolfingers. "Lay back," he instructed, and I did so. Isaac brought me off easily that night, as he usually did, though I felt slightly defeated. When my cries had died down and he'd swallowed everything, I'd lain there, drained of every ounce of energy, like a limp doll. He'd swung his legs over the edge of the bed and finished the blackberry Clearly Canadian from room service before leaning in to kiss me goodnight, cover me, and return to his own room. I thought about my mother and father and how they might react if they walked in on us. The thought of it truly frightened me, because my father was a powerful man when the situation called for it, and everything my brothers and I had worked so hard for would undoubtedly be shattered. Seeing her sons like that would horrify my mother; break her heart. It made me feel slightly sick that we were keeping this huge, awful secret from them, but it was too wonderful a secret to let go of. I was addicted to it.

My life revolved around music, sex, and food--what a corrupt agenda for a twelve-year-old. In a couple months I'd be thirteen, but all the prestige had been sucked right out of the coming-of-age turning point, now that my only goal was to be eighteen, when all my escapades would be legal. I feared that by then my sex drive would be worn out, and I understood why people were supposed to wait. My life had barely begun, and already I was worried about sex overload.

I didn't consider myself homosexual. I fantasized about women, and about Cindy Crawford in particular, but never men or boys. I never considered my brothers to be homosexual, either--we just had a mutual need for sexual gratification.

However, it was Isaac, I think, whom I loved more. He was the gentle one, always knowing what felt especially good. Merely holding his hand excited me, but it also made me feel secure. He was my Big Brother, not just my lover.

It was Taylor that I feared. It was an arousing fear, like the feeling of being chased in a game of tag. Isaac could get away with touching my hair or brushing my legs in the presence of our parents, but Taylor only ever teased me by grabbing my rear, or shoving meback against a wall and pressing his thigh between my legs. It worked, but we wouldn't dare do it in front of anyone.