Chapter Text
It’s been a year since he last visited. The baker boy had to admit he missed having Hero around the shop, even if it meant he could barely sit through his job without unraveling. There was a certain… je ne sais quoi to that prodigy, and whenever he was around, Bowen couldn’t help but soak in it. Marinate. Glaze himself in those strange sensations, in fact.
Though ultimately… it was good that he wasn’t around as much; Bowen had no idea how to admit to his firmly Catholic family that he had caught feelings for another boy. Daphne would understand, of course--being twins meant they had their own particular connection to each other-- and Mikhael, being the family rebel, would obviously approve, but they weren’t his parents. Every time he thought about telling them, it would always catch in his throat and leave him feeling unbearably warm, like the devil himself was standing behind him and waiting for him to give into his instincts.
He hated every second of it.
But he didn’t have to deal with it right now. Maybe it was just a crush, and some time away from the boy would cause it to wither away and he could settle down with a beautiful lady like everybody said he would. Maybe then he’d find out that he was never built wrong, but simply needed a tune-up.
A tune-up involving him, his sister, and fresh bread, all day. Every day. Something to focus on that wasn’t his feelings, or maybe an outlet of his own making. His idea was simple: whenever bad thoughts crowded his head, he would pound those emotions out into the fresh dough he was currently kneading-- put his heart and soul into his bread and pray no one could taste how sinful his heart was.
Thinking about holding hands with Hero? Into the bread it went. A stray idea about them making out behind the local Hobbeez? Might as well chuck that in too. Vain imaginations about heading into Hero’s room, caressing his side as he undoes his--nonoNONO NOPE, stop it right there-- he still remembered the first time that popped up in his head and he slammed his hand into the cutting board so hard he almost broke a finger.
Poor Daphne was probably as confused over that today as she was when it happened. Maybe he could work up the courage to tell her one day. But not today. No, today was the day to make bread, not mistakes.
And make bread he did. And every day, at that. And every day that passed, his reactions had started to dull to those little thoughts, and those little thoughts were seemingly growing content to fester under his conscious mind. And for a while, Bowen thought that he had won his fabled fight against the natural man.
And then Hero came by and promptly threw all his heteronormative dreams out of window again.
The man grinned, making a beeline towards the counter. “Heeeyyy, Bowen! Long time, no see! How are you and your sis holding up?”
“We are doing… fine.” His voice was slow, deliberate-- he had always been told his accent was too thick if he let himself talk like he usually did, so whenever he spoke with anyone outside of his family, he forced himself to enunciate everything clearly. It was just another part of him he needed to suppress, he figured. “Just fine. It has been a while, though... What happened?”
“Oh, I was at college! I’m studying pre-med, but I decided to come back home for the summer.”
Ooh, he heard how difficult that particular career path was. But despite that, college had barely changed the man--he still had that comforting gleam in his eyes, and a body that wasn’t quite chiseled but still charming in its own way, and hair that managed to look beautiful despite not being brushed, and--
Nonono Bowen, don’t think of him like that. You don’t just ogle people like chunks of eye candy! What if Hero was looking at him like that? ...Actually, that sounded really nice and-- oh, come on! Just don’t be weird and wait, was he still talking?
“--ets, whatever’s enough for five people, please.”
Bowen blinked a few times, trying to parse what he had just ordered.
“Um. Sorry, I didn’t… catch that.” He tugged at his collar, uncomfortably aware of how hot he was getting.
“I need some beignets. For five people.”
“Huh. Alright… interesting choice. What’s the occasion?”
“Basil was talking about how his parents were celebrating Mardi Gras over in Mexico and was feeling left out, so we decided to throw a private little Mardi Gras get-together.”
Bowen nodded, a tiny smile settled on his face. “How thoughtful of you. I’m sure Basil will appreciate it. ...Those are best served hot, though, so we’ll have to go make some. Would you mind coming back in about... ninety minutes or so?”
“Yeah, sure! That’ll be just fine.” Hero shifted around, as if to grab his wallet, but Bowen gestured for him to keep his hands down.
“Don’t worry... you can pay when you get back.” Bowen would’ve let Hero have the whole thing for free if he could get away with it; seeing that smile on his face would’ve been more than enough payment, but the family couldn’t live on happy gay feelings.
“Ah, alright! Um--” Hero chuckled an airy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
Bowen could feel the blood starting to rush to his face, and turned so that he wasn’t facing his crush directly anymore as he raised a hand to his mouth. He hoped to God Hero wouldn’t notice his body betraying himself, hinging on the man’s every word. “You’re welcome!” he stammered, glancing away. “Anyway I should probably gomakethoserightnowsoseeya!”
Without a moment to waste, Bowen raced past the double doors into the bakery, hands covering his mouth until he collapsed over an empty workbench with a groan. God, he loved Hero. He loved him so much. ...Maybe too much-- if he kept visiting the bakery, Bowen was sure that either his heart or his head were going to give out and he wasn’t particularly keen on seeing the results of either.
“Brother?” Bowen could feel a hand settling on his shoulder and he stifled a gasp, refusing to turn this way or that. Even though he knew it was only his sister, for the briefest moment he imagined that it was Hero, and the feelings burned even harder within him. “Are you alright?”
He shuddered, but nodded. “Y-yes, I’m quite alright,” he said, slightly relieved that he could speak normally again.
Daphne let out a soft laugh. “Don’t lie to me, brother.” Her hand raised up to his cheek and cupped it. “You’re absolutely burning. Are you catching a cold? You know Mama would never let a sick person handle our bread…”
“No, n-no… I’m fine-- just-- Hero came by and ordered beignets and we gotta--”
She tittered. “Ah, so Hero’s gotten you all heated up.”
“No! No, he--”
Daphne took her other hand and turned his head so he was staring into her eyes. Her amber irises were full of knowing. “He has, hasn’t he?”
Bowen just nodded, too embarrassed to speak. His sister didn’t say anything, only holding him for the briefest moment before wordlessly turning and offering him a bowl and a cup. He accepted them, hesitantly, then ran over to the sink to fill them with water.
“How many?” Daphne asked from across the room.
“Uh, he ordered for five.”
There was no response save for the sound of her rummaging through the ingredients. He made his way over to the stove and placed the containers on top, cranking up the heat and setting aside some oven mitts for future use.
He glanced over at Daphne for a few seconds, watching as she set up the shortening and the sugar and the salt and everything else. She was laser-focused, eyes flickering from item to item as she relocated them. Not once did she look at him.
Once the bowl was lukewarm, he pulled it away and brought it to the table, taking care not to spill. He grabbed the yeast and started sprinkling it into the water.
Just what was she thinking? He couldn’t help but look again, desperate for some sort of sign as to what her opinion was. Unfortunately, she already had her back turned to him, having moved over to the stove to wait until the remaining water started boiling.
He sighed and set down the yeast, deciding that the water was saturated enough as he pushed the bowl aside. The air was silent for a few moments, but eventually he brought himself to speak again.
“...Do you really expect me to act like nothing happened?”
Daphne sighed, turning to look at him with concern. “You know what they’d say, Bowen.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t help that I feel this way.”
“I know,” she murmured. “I wish I could help with that, but I can’t change the Lord’s mind. Besides, isn’t he already dating Mari?”
“Right, I keep forgetting about that.”
The two fell silent again. Bowen opted to combine some of the dryer ingredients while they waited, hoping that maybe all of these awkward feelings would fade and he could get back to work. He almost immediately imagined Hero biting into a beignet and regretted letting his mind wander, somewhat helpless as the thought wormed its way into his head.
Bowen was feeding him the pastries by hand while they were snuggled together in a blanket, surrounded by the dark and the faint glinting moonlight coming in from a nearby window. Sugar stained his thin lips, and the dear baker reached out a thumb to wipe it off and taste it for himself. He couldn’t have tasted anything sweeter.
Hero chuckled, leaning in a bit at Bowen’s brief expression of glee. “Aw, taking a moment to enjoy your handiwork?”
Bowen nodded.
“Do you really want to stop at just a taste?” Hero reached out a hand, grabbing him by the back of his neck and slowly pulling him closer. Bowen took a deep breath.
Their lips were almost touching.
A loud THWACK shook him out of his daydream, and he stood at attention. Daphne was right beside him, shaking her head as she pulled the rolling pin in her hand back up from the table.
“Bowen, Bowen… it seems like you’re pretty fixated on your issue.” She cast an errant glance downward, then paused, eyes widening in surprise. “Very fixated, in fact.”
He followed her gaze and froze, his eyes settling on the bulge that had formed in his pants. A stifled gasp escaped his lips, and he smacked his head against the workbench in a mix of dread and embarrassment. “My goodness, I’m so sorry! I-- I just--”
He groaned, and when he dared to look up at his sister again, he could’ve sworn that a faint blush was spreading across her freckled, bronze face. She didn’t seem disgusted with his lack of self-control, but she did seem conflicted. Over what, he wasn’t sure.
She glanced off to the side, running a hand through her hair and taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if you can keep working like this.”
“I don’t know either,” Bowen admitted, cowering in shame. “But I just can’t go back and tell our parents I had to leave work because Hero… excites me! That would be terrible!”
“And you can’t just lie to them either…” She huffed, idly sliding a hand up and down the rolling pin. After a few seconds, she stopped, glancing back at him. “...But I think I have an idea. Help me get the water and the milk in and I can help you out while it cools.”
“Help me out?” What exactly did she mean by that?
“Yes. Trust me.”
“...Okay.”
They retrieved the boiling water, and Bowen poured it into the mix. Daphne stirred the evaporated milk in, then set it aside. An awkward silence passed, then she moved towards the employee bathroom and gestured for Bowen to follow.
She slipped into the lady’s bathroom, and he hesitated.
“Bowen?”
“I’m a guy, I’m not supposed to--”
“I give you permission to come in, now hurry!”
Despite the pit starting to form in his belly, he acquiesced. It wasn’t particularly large-- there was only one toilet and the toilet paper roll was within reach if one were to sit down on said seat. A white fluorescent light overhead, as well as a subtle chill, gave the place a rather clinical feel, despite the mundanity of it all. Daphne was leaning against the wall to his left, glancing down and most certainly blushing.
“Sister? What are you planning?”
She was silent for a moment. “...You know how the Holy Book says touching yourself is a sin, right?”
He felt the immediate urge to swallow, but nodded.
“I don’t believe it says anything about other people touching you, does it?”
“...No, but--”
“So if I touch you and get those feelings out, then neither of us are sinning.”
“But… but handling people for pleasure is wrong regardless…”
“This isn’t for pleasure, Bowen. It…” She bit her lip. “It’s so you can get back to work. Nothing more.”
As much as Bowen wanted to say no, he couldn’t see a flaw in her logic. It was certainly better than fawning over a man he couldn’t be with, he figured.
“...So how are we doing this?”
“Um…” It was strange seeing Daphne so hesitant, especially since it was her idea to begin with. “Sit down, I suppose, and hold still.”
He did exactly that, settling down on the toilet and holding tight to the sides. He glanced down, mildly amused if not embarrassed over the thought of sitting atop a woman’s toilet-- he wasn’t even sure he could use it properly.
His sister approached, then lowered herself to her knees, her hands reaching out to fumble with his belt buckle. Even now, he couldn’t help but fidget, taking a slow breath as she touched bits of his clothing only he ever touched. He swallowed, quivering, allowing her to undo the loop and set it aside on the floor.
What on earth was this feeling? At first he considered it dread, but as she reached into his pants and slipped them down, there was a subtle… eagerness that was added to his cocktail of emotions. He couldn’t explain why. All he knew was that on some level, he wanted this.
Her fingers brushed up against his underwear, and excitement rushed through his veins. He gasped, he bucked against her hand, he swallowed and closed his eyes tight, afraid that the brilliant warmth flooding him would vanish as soon as he got a good look at what was happening.
At last, his manhood was exposed to the cold air, held up high from god knows what. A tense moment passed, then he felt something gently prodding at the underside. What the actual heck? He dared to open his eyes just to see what was happening.
Daphne was poking his dick. Her eyes were fixated on its bronze head, and they both watched as she pushed it up and it settled back into its upward-facing angle. “It’s so strange seeing one of these outside of sex ed…”
He chuckled. “It’s just as weird for me, really.”
A few moments passed, then she settled her hand on top of his rod, stroking the length with her palm much like how one would go about petting a cat. A small shock of pain coursed through him every time she pushed down, but at the same time so did a growing sense of pleasure at being touched.
It hurt. Hurts good. Bowen never thought he’d ever think that in his life, but he never thought he’d ever have his sister help him ejaculate before either. Today was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?
Then she clasped her hand around it tight, and for the briefest moment, all he could see was white. He had been clasped in a vice-like grip, overwhelming his sensitive cock and squeezing out a little glob of white goo.
And then she started yanking. He tilted his head back, a loud, immodest moan forcing its way out of his mouth before he clamped a hand over his lips. Too much. Too much there was too much touching and feelings and he felt ready to melt and--
Just like that, everything stopped, and the uncomfortable cold of the bathroom replaced Daphne’s hand.
“Uh. Are you okay, Bowen? You’re crying.”
He was almost tempted to get upset at her for stopping there, but he quickly realized that she was concerned. With a shuddering breath, he rubbed his face and paused. Oh, dang, he really had been crying. When did that start?
“It’s a lot,” he admitted with a pitchy voice, drying his hand on his shirt. “Overwhelming.”
“Do you want me to st--”
“No!” In a surprising burst of determination and assertiveness, he grabbed her wrist and pulled it back towards his manhood. “I mean, no… please. I need this, I think I was close.”
She nodded, glancing away. Her free hand sat idly on her chest in some vague approximation of a rubbing motion. “If you think you can handle it… alright. Could you let go of me and get me some toilet paper?”
Right, he was still holding her. He released her, then reached for the roll and pulled a few squares free, offering it to Daphne. She accepted it, holding it with one hand while she resumed working Bowen with the other.
It didn’t take long for him to reenter that agonizing, yet blissful state. Pleasure and pain thrummed through his dick-- no, his body-- coalescing into a vibrant warmth that drove away the chill on the surface of his skin. His hips began to move on their own, thrusting his rod against her touch in a firm, steady rhythm.
With each thrust, the warmth only seemed to multiply further. The world grew closer and closer, closing in, drowning out all sense that a reality existed outside of this cramped, little restroom. It was just him and Daphne now. Together. Closer than siblings should ever be, probably.
He shoved that last thought aside and arched his back, shuddering and moaning. Something was building up inside him. Something big. It felt like his insides were going to collapse any second, but he kept going, murmuring encouraging, pleading words to his sister between shaky gasps for air.
And then something unwound.
He cried out in sheer pleasure, hands clutching the toilet seat for dear life as all that pent-up energy shot out of him. No, not energy-- cum. Was… was this what orgasming was? No wonder people loved doing this! He rode out the high as long as he could, seeing stars as he kept his eyes shut tight. The feeling didn’t immediately dissipate, but rather eked out in waves, slowly, surely, until at last his body found it necessary to slump against the wall and relax, leaving him with a pleasantly warm emptiness.
He didn’t dare open his eyes-- that would mean acknowledging that the moment was over, and if there was a moment he wanted to stay in forever, it would be this one. The one where it was just him and his sister showing him real pleasure in the most hidden spot in the bakery.
The silence that followed was deafening.
After who knows how long, Bowen felt Daphne poke his cheek. “Come on, brother. I need to flush this.”
He groaned in acknowledgement of the question yet hesitated to move. His legs were like jelly, and he didn’t trust them to carry his weight just yet. Instead he leaned over, bringing himself off the toilet and onto his knees, his forehead pressed firmly against the tiling. He heard a plop, then the deafening roar of flushing.
“Maybe I overdid it,” he heard Daphne murmur.
“It was amazing,” he replied, setting a hand on the floor and preparing to raise himself back to his feet. “Thank you, dear sister.”
“...You’re welcome, then.” She hooked her arm around his and hoisted him up. He chuckled a warm laugh, but paused as he opened his eyes and found himself staring into those brilliantly honeyish irises again. Such a massive mix of emotions shone through, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Once he felt he could stand on his own again, she let go, turning to wash her hands. Bowen got to work pulling his underwear up, and once his pants were back in their proper place, he grabbed for his belt. By the time he had slung it back on, Daphne had already left. He washed his hands as well, then followed her out.
She was already combining the yeast-water with the ingredients in the other bowl, once again acting like the last several minutes never happened. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should’ve felt worse than he did right now-- there was that vague wriggling feeling that the scene in the restroom should’ve never happened, but when compared to all the other emotions bouncing around in his brain like a pinball, it was decidedly minute.
What he did feel bad over, though, was the fact that he wanted to do all that again. His body had never felt like that before-- it was a feeling he formerly found indescribable, like an angel from above had merged with him for the briefest moment.
...Daphne would totally kill him if he said that metaphor out loud.
He shook his head and stood beside her, helping to beat the eggs and adding them as well. If she offered it again, he would take it. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask her for it-- that just seemed like a weird thing to ask of his sister.
For now, they would just bake. That seemed like a good way to get his mind off the topic.