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When Malcolm was born, Reese was eight.
He vaguely remembers how Malcolm opened his eyes to the world only to stare at him first and foremost, and how Mom and Dad were crying. He remembers Lois insisting he held little Malcolm for a picture that would surely collect dust at the back of a shelf in the future, but doesn't say anything. He smiles, all teeth, and gently cradles the baby. There's the flash of a camera, and the cooing of his parents fussing over the too-cute picture.
Malcolm is still looking at him, with those big blue eyes of his, as if stripping off Reese's layers one by one.
Which, sure, that's creepy, but he's his baby brother.
And that's the second it dawns on Reese that oh, fuck, im an older brother now.
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When Malcolm was four, Reese was twelve.
Reese, in the four years that they've been together, still haven't been able to adjust to Malcolm's newest addition to the family. The kid is quiet, too quiet, and seems to always to be observing. Primarily Reese, hell, maybe only him. He definitely hasn't caught him looking at anybody else like that.
It's alright though, because a sick part of Reese enjoys the idea of himself having Malcolm's undivided attention. Makes him feel important, or something.
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When Malcolm is turning seven, Reese is fourteen and a half. He hasn't changed a bit, being as much of an airhead bully as he always was. But it's during Malcolm's seventh birthday that he feels something shift between them.
The cake is some fruit flavoured sophisticated bullcrap, because Malcolm finds chocolate too "sweet"(that's the point, dipshit!) and they sing the usual happy birthday song that Malcolm hasn't outgrown yet.
When the members of his family start chanting make a wish at Malcolm, he leans forward to blow out the candles. He's looking at Reese.
They haven't been having the best interactions lately, Reese will admit, because Malcolm insists on being an arrogant little shit— but that's strange even for Malcolm.
Reese goes to bed feeling very, very confused that night.
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When Malcolm is eight, he gets put into special classes.
Lois explains the situation to them one night over dinner, and despite Malcolm's protests, he ends up with the krelboynes the next day. He's miserable.
Reese doesn't think much of it— besides an occasional jab at his intelligence that probably lands somewhere near pathetic. But he's no log, he understands that the kid is sharp as a knife— practically a genius. He should probably feel proud of him, but can only muster a slight annoyance.
He wonders what that says about him.
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When Malcolm is nine, Reese is 17 and done.
He's done with his life, his classes, his failed flings and most importantly, his family.
Lois never gets off his ass about getting a job and being productive, blah blah blah, and Hal doesn't do anything to stop her. Francis is barely here, being in and out of millitary school, and Malcolm— he haunts Reese. Literally.
He's everywhere he goes, everywhere he looks, the guy shows up in his dreams for crying out loud! And worst of all, Reese doesn't know why. He's not smart enough to figure it out, and frankly doesn't really want to. He just knows that his instincts are telling him to stay away from Malcolm as far as possible.
But he's never claimed to be patient.
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When Malcolm is nine and Reese's seventeen, his resolve cracks.
It cracks under the pressure of Malcolm's lingering glances, his staring— weakening Reese with each and every one of them.
Reese, for once, is trying to study for an upcoming test and Malcolm just wont get the hint to stop. He can practically feel that icy gaze of his boring a hole into the back of his neck even when he has his back turned to Malcolm. The hair on his arms stand on end, and Reese decides he's had it.
His chair screeches against the floor when he gets up.
"Will you just quit it, already?!" He wasn't meant to come across as harsh as he did, he realizes when Malcolm flinches. His brother opens his mouth, and Reese can almost hear Malcolm's response right before he says it, I wasn't staring.
But instead, all he hears is:
"sorry."
Malcolm shuffles back to his desk, and Reese feels dumbfounded.
When he tries to talk to Malcolm later that evening, his brother does a great job in brushing him off smoothly.
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It's a week before Malcolm's tenth birthday when Reese figures out something.
It took him 3 years to get here, but he has finally came to the conclusion that Malcolm's staring isn't supposed to be negative. His brother seems to be admiring him, actually, and Reese puffs his chest out in pride just thinking about it.
Malcolm's the smart one. He's the smart and the gifted brother, and he quite frankly doesn't understand why Malcolm would admire him so much, but he supposes he can't complain since it makes him feel proud all the same.
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It's the day of his brother's birthday party when Reese corners him in their shared bedroom.
Don't get it wrong— it's not really a party party, because his brother can count his friends on one hand, and most of them don't even care to attend it. He's currently playing with his friend Stevie in his room, and Reese is tossing a ball absentmindedly while "keeping an eye" on Malcolm, so him and Stevie don't do anything stupid. There's no chance, but his mother doesn't complain.
It's a weekend, and his parents are out god knows where—Reese hasn't paid any mind to what Lois was saying— and they left him in charge of Malcolm and Stevie. He complained to his mother, because of course he did, but it's not like he had anything better to do. He doesn't even have any friends to count.
He doesn't know why and doesn't care, but at some point an upset looking Stevie is picked up by his parents earlier than he's supposed to, and it's just him and Malcolm now.
He doesn't bother calling their parents and letting them know, figuring that they wouldn't care much. He thinks about pressuring the information out of Malcolm, but decides against it last second.
As soon as Stevie leaves and theres nothing keeping Malcolm distracted, the ice-cold stare returns onto him. And this time, he is inclined to return it.
Their eyes meet, and Malcolm's suddenly shy now— averting his eyes. It's funny.
Reese laughs loudly and makes a snarky remark that he can't remember now, and in a matter of seconds an angry Malcolm is on him, wrestling with surprising strength. He's nowhere near stronger than Reese, though, who works out regularly(it's the only thing he's got going for him, Lois half-jokes) and he pins Malcolm down swiftly. That's the first mistake he makes.
Malcolm's skin is milky, with no hair in sight, and it's soft and pliant underneath Reese's fingertips. He's also very, very warm, Reese notices.
The next thing he notices is his brother's wide, blue eyes. They're magnetizing, and sometimes it feels like he's swallowing him whole with them, like now. He really likes them.
He also notices his jagged breathing, and trembling hands(is that from anger or something else?)— he can feel every small shift in his body language and demeanor, and he feels drunk off it. He's so used to being on the receiving end of this treatment that it feels refreshing to be the one doing this to Malcolm, for once.
He feels funny, all of a sudden, and his brain is filled to the brink with cotton. He doesn't give himself time to think about what he wants to do next, and goes right for Malcolm's lips.
They're as soft as the rest of his skin, as predicted, and maybe softer than some girls he had kissed before(but those relationships went nowhere, nowhere, nowhere, nowhere—)
Malcolm is frozen, and it's understandable because his older brother is kssing him, on the lips and christ he has never done this with Francis—
All coherent thoughts die down when Malcolm's mouth moves shyly against his own, and it sparks a light up his spine, like a fire cracker. Malcolm is inexperienced, and Reese is sure that this is the worst kiss he's ever had but why does it feel so good— he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything besides his brother's warm body against his own, and his lips pressed against his. He wonders why they hadn't done this before. It would've surely saved them a whole lot of trouble.
Malcolm smells like sweat and birthday cake, and Reese thinks that it should put him off but somehow doesn't, and in turn actually turns him on more than he's ever been in his entire life. He's a moth to a flame, and that flame is Malcolm, and he feels utterly drunk over this one boy it should border on obsession.
Reese doesn't even notice that he'd been unconsciously grinding against his baby brother until said brother makes a small whining sound accompanied with more.
Reese is happy to oblige.
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He pulls Malcolm's jeans off him in a manner so gentle it's surprising for a brute like him, and licks his lips once he's face to face with his brother's puffed-up, slick cunt. The shade is a dark pink, and there's no hair on his mound, but Reese doesn't care because Malcolm is the first person that he'd gotten this far with. He's only have seen glimpses of pink, hot cunts in flashes of pornos and mags Francis had brought him occasionally, and nothing could prepare him for the real thing. Nothing.
Malcolm's pussy reeks of adolescence and it has Reese twitching in his shorts. He looks up to meet Malcolm's eyes, and is met with the most pathetic sight he has ever seen of his brother.
Malcolm has tears in his eyes, and his pupils are blown out so wide the blue is practically observed into the black, and it's the hottest fucking thing.
Their parents aren't gonna be back for atleast an hour, so they better make it count. Reese licks a stripe up Malcolm's hole to his clit. The wanton moan he recieves in return encourages him to lap at the flesh in front of him hungrily.
Malcolm tastes like a whole lot of nothing—because he's so young, but the texture is incredibly pleasant against Reese's tongue, and he keeps going back for more and more until Malcolm's a sobbing, quivering mess at his mercy, and he's gasping reese, reese, oh, until the pleasure overwhelms him completely and he cries out one last time before squirting weakly into Reese's welcoming mouth. It tastes sweet, and everybody knows Reese can't resist sweets.
He tries to dive back into the nectar-y flavor that is his brother's pussy, but Malcolm squirms away, overstimulated. His brother looks utterly fucked out from just a little licking, and it pumps a fresh wave of blood through his cock.
"wuh—want your cock," his brother tells him, voice all wrecked, and who is Reese to deny him?
He takes out his perfectly-average cock, but Malcolm stares at it like he saw god anyway. He doesn't have the time to say anything about that before Malcolm's lips are stretched around his dick and god—it feels better than what he imagined—it takes him four, maybe five seconds to spurt his cum down his brother's throat. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn't last long, either!
It would be embarrassing if he had came so fast with anyone else—any girl—but it's Malcolm, with his big brain and arrogance. It's fine, they were both quickshots anyway.
He zips up his pants and help Malcolm into his own pair, and Reese plops next to Malcolm on his bed. He stares at him, and Malcolm stares back. It's like a competition for who'll look away first, and Reese is victorious when Malcolm averts his eyes and announces that he's going to sleep.
Reese doesn't need to be told twice to huddle right next to him, and he thinks that it'd be great to marry Malcolm. He's soft and cute like a girl, and his brain is big enough for the two of them. That way, he'd never have to think again.
He falls asleep with that thought in mind.