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Breaking Limits

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Mirath

_ _

_ _

Whereas his brother was not always around, being a demon and all, Donnie sometimes found himself at a loss for things to do. Their “business", if one could call it that, ran pretty much by itself with just him to oversee it, though most of what Donnie had to do there involved cleaning up any messes that John created, interfering in the human world when, truly, he did not quite have due jurisdiction to do so. Yet anyone who wanted to tell John not to do something would have been considered a brave soul indeed to do when he was human, much less when he'd ascended (or descended, depending on how one wanted to look at it) to being a demon.

A demon...

_ _

Donnie shook his head. He wasn't so sure he'd ever get used to that. With his hands back behind his head, he relaxed in the hideaway, a bought abode outside the city, somewhere that was designed to be used as an intermediate bolt-hole if things ever truly went to shit. It had never come to that so far, at least not for him, but it was nice to know it was there if needed, amongst others. Fiddling with his glasses, he cast his eyes around, the bolt-hole sunken into the ground with grass growing over the roof. It was not as insulating as it could have been but a touch of John must have been in him at that very moment as he stretched out along the full length of the sofa. He wasn't usually that lazy – not so lazy, at least, that he didn't even really feel the need to get himself up and turn the heating on.

Nevermind.

_ _

There were times, after all, when his mind needed to slow down and rest, remembering better times, times when the two of them had thought that they were invincible. Of course, perhaps that meant that, ultimately, John was invincible, but certainly not as a human. No, he had shed the skin of mortality when that knife had slid into him, taking away his ability to claw at and hold onto humanity. But shedding that skin had not left him unable to push into Donnie, the man that he loved taking him even though he was a demon, their bodies coming together furiously and feverishly time after time again.

Some would have said it was an addiction to think about one man so much, much less his very own brother, but Donnie knew too that there was no one there to care. His bolt-hole was set up with state of the art technology, paid for with ill-gotten gains, but none of it held his attention as the curtains slid shut, a touch of a button sliding the room into an artificial twilight. Leaving himself enough light to see by, he groaned lightly, rolling his hips up as his need grew, allowing it to do so naturally.

Damn... Donnie chuckled hoarsely, rasping out his mirth to himself as the rising throb of his shaft pushed out against the front of his jeans, his undergarments tighter than they should have been. He could have sorted the heating too with the touch of a button. How was it that he was forgetting things like that? Maybe his mind was wandering too much, drifting between realities – even more so, after all, since John had shown him that unreality was very much a possible thing.

It was a lot to take in. Better to rest, to allow himself that pleasure, the back of his hand pressed to his crotch, teasing and testing the waters. A few moments for himself, of course, were laid out there for him to take. And it was only right for him to take them, the button popping loose, zip sliding down, hardness rising into his hand as if it had only been waiting for the right moment in which to make itself known.

Lying back, he remembered.

*

John scowled as he leaned back on the sofa, an arm slung over the back of it as if he owned it. They may have been in Donnie's home – or, at least, one of his residences – but it was not something that he had expected John to take note of. He acted as if he was the owner of everything that he touched, his casual demeanour cloying and clawing at everything, stark and loud.

He tipped his glass upside down and frowned even more darkly, shaking it a few times as if a few more drops of liquor may well have found it in themselves to fall out of it. It was the middle of the night but he was as awake as if it was noon, their sleep schedules not really having been all the great for the majority of their lives. And, as it was, the majority of illegal business took place after the sun went down... Where those in charge, of course, weren't being totally brazen about it.

“Fucking idiots," he muttered under his breath, not seeing what was in front of them. “All of them... Everyone!"

Donnie swung around in the computer chair, though the workstation that he had set up in that home, an apartment that no one but the two of them knew about in the middle of the city, was not his usual fare. A little research though and communication from a fresh device gave him eyes on a situation like nothing else, though a solution to the trade issue of their drug business (it was better to think of it like that rather than anything illegal) had not yet come to him. If John was not grouching out his frustrations quite so loudly, he might even reach it sooner rather than later.

“Me too?" He joked lightly, though his tone was flatter than he had meant it to come out.

John scowled and threw the glass, though the casual flick of his wrist must have had more force behind it than Donnie had realised. As if it was nothing, it sailed across the room and smashed on the opposite wall, shattering as the tempered glass shot off in all directions. It rained down to the carpet like crystalline raindrops and even Donnie jumped, although, as usual, John did not react in the slightest. Making an ugly face at his hand, he looked down, opening and closing it as if he was wondering just why another glass, full of alcohol, had simply not appeared magically there as he willed it.

Letting out a held breath that was rendering too tightly in his lungs, Donnie exhaled roughly.

“Jeez, John..."

His brother did not even question his concern, though neither got up to set the glass to rights. It would not have been the first time, after all, that broken glass had littered the floor of just where they were. One might have said that it even reminded them of some part of their younger years.

Maybe.

But that wasn't for them to think about – not then. Perhaps not ever again.

He eyed John up from the corner of his eye, not liking how the thrown glass made his heart beat more quickly. It was well enough out of the way and he'd have it taken care of sooner or later (by someone else's hands), though he was more concerned about getting it underfoot in the interim.

Donnie licked his lips, a reflex that took place without him even thinking about that. Was he planning to go about barefoot? Well, if he was given the opportunity, him and John were there, all alone... As if they were going to end up doing anything else. He smirked to himself, allowing a little of the tension to soften from his shoulders. It was the best thing to do whenever one needed to take their mind off things and sometimes too when there was simply boredom to be overcome.

In short...sex was always the answer.

He rose, imagining himself something seductive, though he would have felt himself foolish if he had done such a thing in his earlier years with John. But it felt like such a long time since they had come together for the very first time, not knowing what words to put to the fact that they were brothers and fucking each other. Love? Lust? Ah, who really needed to put a term to something that just worked for them...

His need rose, tingling through him, desire coursing up, thick and fast. He smirked like John, though the glint of light glancing off his glasses was intrinsically different. He would never be John but he didn't need to as he slunk down on the sofa beside him, anything but subtle, his arm slung around John's neck. His older brother shot him a look but didn't move away, muscles tensing the tiniest fraction.

Is he really going to make this difficult?

“Don't you need to take a break?"

John's scowl darkened, lips twisting, pressed together. It was funny how someone so good-looking could, in that way, make themselves appear viciously ugly but John still somehow managed to do it in a heart-throbbing way, something that stoked the need in Donnie something dreadful.

Damn it...

_ _

“You're the one working, aren't you?"

But John was an easily persuaded soul when it came to matters like that and Donnie's heart leapt into his throat, tightening and pounding there, dropping down to his knees and easily getting into John's jeans, underwear slipping down along with them. He didn't need much room to work to get his cock but and unzipping his fly was more than enough there, his brother sighing and leaning back as if he didn't care what happened, even though his hard cock told the tale well enough for him. If John wanted to pretend that he didn't care as his brother's lips slid down and folded around his cock, that wasn't going to bother him, for his brother was hard and needy, pre-cum glistening faintly at the tip of his cock. It was hard to tell the difference between that and his saliva as Donnie struggled to not salivate a little more, the swirl of his tongue and the bobbing of his head working it up in his mouth. But that didn't matter as long as he too got what he wanted.

“Fuck..."

John rolled out the word in a groan above him, leaning back, hips rocking up just a fraction. Donnie's heart leapt, pounding heavily, and he doubled down on his efforts, hand closed around the base of his brother's cock as he sucked hard enough to hollow out his cheeks lightly. His brother wasn't about to look down at him while he was being serviced, however, laying back as if he was the king and deserved every last little thing that was being done to him, every little bit of admiration and so much more.

If he'd been able to, Donnie would have rolled his eyes. Surely John did think like that, being the lord of a drug empire and all, but he was at his side, the brains behind it. John was the front and the face, the one that made sure that everyone fell in line exactly when they were supposed to. But that was not the case, not always, when it came to those close to him, though Donnie was all too ready to drop to his knees, even if he did not fall into line so easily. He was there for what they had between them, however fraught and strong it was, conflicting at best, and, sometimes, that was all that was needed to bring things to delightful ends.

Passion was all that was needed as he lost himself in the moment. Why worry about the business, everything going on, when he had his brother there and lust to be had? The aftertaste of alcohol lingered in the back of his throat but there would be something thicker and muskier to come, something that he pushed onward to with hasty need, hungry for it despite everything else. It should not have been so and, still, he wanted it, not even wanting to waste a moment in denying his need when he could have what he craved in the present time.

Donnie shivered. But what if he pushed things just a little bit further?

John groaned above him as Donnie worked his head more swiftly, lips pressing down, squeezing around that hot length. There should have been nothing else for the man on his knees but the meat in his mouth but his mind raced, thinking of one thing after the other, what he could do, though none of it was about making John felt better. There were no kinks there that they'd spoken of, nothing out of the ordinary, but the fact that he was fucking his own brother was, perhaps, kink enough.

Yet it could be harsher, rougher, the boundaries pushed, his hand slipping up tentatively to press on his brother's thigh, feeling the muscle beneath his flesh. His jeans slipped down and Donnie took full advantage, working and grunting as he tried to get his brother out of his clothes as quickly as possible. To do that, however, would mean that he had to pull back off his cock and John wasn't about to let him do that, fingers twisting roughly into Donnie's hair as he finally took an active part in the play of things and pushed his head down.

“Don't fucking give up on me now...hm...dear?"

It didn't make sense but that was enough, more than enough, Donnie's eyes half-lidding, going along with what his brother wanted. It was easier that way and, at the very least, he got what he needed. He moaned around his brother's dick and gulped him down all the more feverishly, though he didn't have to move his head all that much with John there to drag it back and forth for him, the heat of the moment rising up, fraught with the very best kind of tension, between them.

John needed it too. And he was going to get every last little fucking thing he wanted and so much more.

John didn't know how to not take what he needed, letting Donnie suck him, fingers digging into his thigh. It came with a pressure and the tiniest bite of pain where a ragged nail caught him but that was not about to stop John from taking the moment further, fingers twisted into his brother's dark hair, although it was not quite as dark as his. They could never have been mistaken for one another, he was sure, though the glasses too were something indeed that could give up the game. They were different and they were meant to be so. Hot pride rushed through his chest, pumped there with every beat of his heart, forcing blood around his body. Their differences, in a way, were what made them good.

But he couldn't resist the draw of need flourishing through him, only very slightly tempered by the level of alcohol in his system. It wasn't something that made him hold off from getting off for any length of time anymore but helped him get off over and over again, the repeated pleasure leading him on into even more lustful times. He growled in the back of his mouth, revelling in the rising bliss. There was nothing like a hot mouth closing around his cock and Donnie's was the best, even though he'd had his fair share of guys too that he could compare things like that to. They just didn't have a patch on his younger brother.

If he'd known that, maybe he would have started fucking him sooner...

John grunted, sitting up halfway, curling forward, need rising. There was no holding back as he used his brother's mouth like nothing more than a hole to be fucked and, in that moment, he knew that there was nothing he could do to hold off for a moment longer. He climaxed as if he had not gotten off in months, humping and grinding and pulling his brother's mouth down as hard as he could, increasing the pressure on the back of Donnie's head without actually realising how much force he was using.

It was a good thing that Donnie loved it, cock bulging out the front of his jeans, showing a rise even though, in that moment, it was not his pleasure that was important. Donnie knew that and John knew that even as he pumped his load into Donnie's mouth, hungrily watching his throat work and work as he gulped it down. A trickle of seed oozed out the corner of his brother's mouth and Donnie groaned, the trembling vibration reverberating down the length of his cock, prolonging his pleasure.

However, the male orgasm was woefully short and he pulled Donnie back, leaving him gasping, as the sensitivity of it all grew too much for him. He grunted and heaved for breath, chest rising and falling, taking a moment to drag his shirt up and over his head, more casual wear for him but, then again, he hadn't been out properly in a little while. Time with Donnie led him into a simpler, less formal way of life, and that was okay too, even if he wanted to look presentable, his suit jackets becoming a way of simply him being him. Donnie sat back on the floor, gasping and heaving, though the glimmer f cum at the corner of his lips, lingering there even after his job of the moment was good and done, was something that raised the stakes in John's lust, cock twitching lightly even as it softened.

He couldn't let it get too soft though, not with his brother right there, groaning with need, pulling up with him. In a moment, the two of them were standing, leaning into one another, though the clothes were in the way, too much cloth preventing their lust from coming through just as it should have been. John smirked and, while he took but a moment in which to recover, peeled off a tab from a strip he had left on the arm of the sofa. It was a light drug, a party drug, but just the thing to stir up in the midst of the cocktail of liquors in his stomach already.

It dropped onto his tongue and he let it dissolve, fizzling lightly, pushed to the back of his throat to gulp down. It would soon have the effect he wanted and he eagerly leaned into it, grabbing another, two stuck together, and forcing them into Donnie's mouth with his own tongue. Of course, Donnie acquiesced to it, his struggles only instinctive and reactive, faintly teasing through in the contraction of muscles. But there was nothing there to worry about and he relaxed as the kiss deepened, clumsy and sloppy, not really being their thing.

Kissing was for lovers... That wasn't what they were. But they could be whatever the hell they fucking wanted to be.

Donnie blinked, groaning as their lips met, hasty passion throbbing up, his cock aching for release. And yet he still didn't even know if that kind of release was to be his that night with John or if he would later find himself in the shower, taking his pleasure with the memory of it to, at least, lift him up. It was a good thing and a bad thing to have such power play between them, his brother snarling against his lips as he pulled back, commanding the moment, demanding everything that he had ever wanted and things too that he didn't even know of.

That was the thing... John would take things even if he didn't know what he wanted. And that was the thing that excited Donnie the most.

Clothes hit the floor, leaving them naked from head to toe and freeing Donnie's erection. As the drugs worked through his system, Donnie gasped, trying to drag in breath that didn't seem to ease the tension in his lungs, glutes working, muscles that he didn't need tensing. Everything was hot and cloying, closing in around him, but John was right there, a syringe in his hand, a smirk in his eyes.

No words were needed and the moment came to pass between them, the needle sliding into his skin like the kiss of a far more romantic, sweetening lover. It should not have been as sensual as it was and, for once, Donnie did not even look away, his hand on his cock, pumping his length, flesh sliding back and forth. Pain could be erotic too but only to a certain extent, like the pressure of a hand on his throat, bearing down so much that the very act of breathing was taken from him.

Donnie shuddered. Yes... Yes, that could be it. Pushing limits, breaking through. How far could the two of them go?

He growled and pulled back but not even John could have seen the snatch of the needle coming, throwing the syringe away and taken the second that, somehow, had already been prepared. Nights with John often went like that, black spots driving through sensation, blacking out what had happened and what was going to happen to. But he didn't need to remember everything, not unless he wanted to, knowing that John was there, that they could push through, that whatever happened things would be okay at the end of it.

He'd never before put that level of trust in anyone else ever before. Never again would he.

Donnie had the syringe clasped tightly in his hand and there was a breath of a moment in which John locked eyes with him. Was he really going to go through with it? He could barely remember the time that he had last held a syringe in his hand, his stomach churning squeamishly at such a thing, but it felt right in the moment, chest tight with something that he could not name. It slid into his brother's skin, breaking the barrier that allowed the drug to flow forth, to do its best work, and he pressed the plunger down, thumb aching to strain up to the end of the thick and fat syringe. It took more pressure than he thought should have been necessary, further demonstrating just how long it had been, but he got it out and it had, in reality, only been a few seconds.

John's eyes narrowed, darkening with sick intensity; Donnie would never admit, not even once, just how that made his stomach leap, turning over exotically.

It was on.

“You shouldn't have done that."

It was not that it was drugs or that it was bad or anything of that nature – just that Donnie had sought, and so very openly too, to take charge and control back for himself. It was an open challenge and not one that John could refuse, the drug shot into his system, needle falling aside. That, on the floor, was something that they would need to be even more careful of than broken glass but Donnie's heart pounded too heavily to be concerned about such a thing as John moved over him, slamming him back. In but a moment he was on one of the chairs in the living room, not knowing quite how he got there, ecstasy racing through him even though it was not the brilliance of orgasm.

What was happening? How had he got there? Donnie groaned and grunted, blinking, missing the moment. It was too quick, too fast, and all out of his control with John bearing down over him, shoving his face and chest over the arm of the chair. It was big and clunky, something that Donnie had been thinking about getting rid of, but it proved just right to get his arse at the right height for John even as his brother stood behind him, shoving his head down into the firm seat.

It was all he wanted, all that he needed, grunting and pushing back, fighting as if, finally, he had had enough of John. But everything that Donnie had gotten himself into was hotly manufactured, head twisting back and forth, need rising, his cock throbbing and grinding into the side of the seat. It was harsh, so very harsh, and the line of pain forced itself up stringently across his stomach, bearing down heavily. And, still, he knew that once he'd started something like that, he was there to stay, twisting and moaning, his brother's cock driving up to his anal ring as if it had always been meant to be there.

John's hand slammed his head down, an unspoken command, though not one that Donnie thought that he at all needed to rise up against. He didn't need it to be said but, oh, how he liked the words to flow forth, need throbbing, cock drooling. He gasped, lips opening and closing wordlessly, unaware of how far he had pushed things with that little play on control right then and there, the empty syringes on the floor, spinning away.

Spinning and spinning and spinning.

Donnie blinked, a long, low moan rolling forth from his lips as John bore in, stretching him out, forcing him to acquiesce to his size. His body was pliable, however, mouldable, something that could be shaped to John's will. Whereas he was his own person, he was John's person when he was under him, trying to scrabble and find the purchase to push back, heaving and grunting, his pleasure not part of the moment that he was so determined to claw onto.

And yet it was there too, the stretch incredible even as he rolled his hips back, showing his eagerness, his readiness for something more, something harsher than even he had been expecting. He wanted to see, just see, how far things could go, and that was the only reason that Donnie let loose a half-strangled snarl, John's hand finding the back of his neck and shoving, hard.

“Stay..." John growled, hips working, though the power play between them was what truly dominated the interaction. “Stay...down..."

But Donnie had no intention of that – why the fuck was he holding back? John didn't have to do that! His glasses fell off but he could still see a bit without them and that was not something to worry him too much, the edges of his world taking on a softer edge even as his pucker burned faintly. It was a strain, of course, to take anyone without lubrication or even with lubrication, but his body was designed to be able to do such a thing, even if he could have used it being a little slower, a little more careful.

But he didn't fucking want careful anymore. John bore down over him, using his weight, breathing heavy, and Donnie did everything in his power to make it all the more difficult for him, twisting and writhing, although he, by far, did not have the upper hand. That was not the way that it was supposed to be, not even as the drugs that he'd been injected with flowed through his system. He knew too though that the potency of the dose John had prepared for himself would be twice as strong and it was that that made him think that he could do what he willed, pushing the limits, breaking through.

The drug made him bold, laughing like a madman even though he was not sure at all whether the sound came out his mouth or just bounced off the inside of his skull. Pleasure shot through him, mingling with ecstasy, writhing and pounding, leaping up within him. If only they fucked hard enough, something more would happen, the slap of flesh on flesh deafening, rising to till the whole room. It was loud, too loud, and Donnie grunted, trying to drown it out. Something pressed in on his eardrums, need coming through, the press of his brother's fingers around the back of his neck and throat more erotic than he had ever, truly, given the lustful nuance of it credit for.

More... Yes, more. Donnie groaned, trying to lift his head. His cock twitched, finding that he could not move that much. And that was all that he'd wanted.

And more. But he was going to have to stir up the demon in order to do that.

“Is that all?" Donnie hissed, jaw clenched and a muscle jumping at the corner, pounding with the beat of his heart. “Fucking... Think...you're the...king..."

John's howl was raw and ragged and sounded quite as if it was coming from a wild animal, though Donnie had known that it was all just the beginning of something more. As his brother hauled him back, handling his body as if it weighed nothing at all, he dropped to the floor like a stone, heart pounding, lifting along with the throbbing rise of his cock. He was meat in his brother's hands, something to be used, though it was a kind of use where he got something out of it too – rather a lot, in fact.

“You're really fucking pushing it now..."

John drew himself back, cock sliding free, hard and ready in the air between them, though it was not a gap that his younger brother would be due to close. It hung there, tantalising and taunting, and anyone that knew John knew that the time to worry was when he was quiet above all else, choosing his words with care. Dragging in great, deep, shuddering breaths, John pulled his shoulder blades back, lips parted for breath, though he did not try to make his breathing any quieter than it actually was. He may have been panting as heavily as Donnie but there was no question as to who truly was in charge there, the belt sliding from the loops of his jeans, easing out, a teasing slip of leather against denim.

He'd never really have worn something like that but it seemed to have found him perfectly in the moment, euphoria coursing through, making him even strong and more powerful than he'd thought he was. He was the king and, well, Donnie was a fool to consider him anything different, even if he was well enough about to set his brother to rights on that one.

Was it his right to do so? John shook his head, the belt snapping out between his hands. Yes... Yes, it was.

The loop of leather was around his brother's neck, slipped through the buckle and drawn tight with a sharp snap, before his mind had caught up with the actions of his body. But he couldn't have gone back, no then, when there was his pride and his image at stake. He had to show Donnie, yes, had to show him that he was the one in control, his power unfathomable, unquestionable, drama rising, the tension throbbing as headily as any cock.

The leather had been cool when it had first moved into his hands as if controlled by another force, another power, but it ran warm as he pressed the buckle to it without popping it through a hole. Donnie's neck was smaller than that and far more fragile too and he ran his fingers over it as if fascinated, murmuring lightly under his breath, though the words didn't make sense even to him. His skin itched, twitching and crawling, and there was still so much more for him to do, bracing himself over his brother as he arched his back, ploughing back into that needy hole, showing him who was truly in charge.

He would have done well to never question it.

The press of the belt, quite literally, took Donnie's breath away, eyes half-lidded, need pulsating to such a fever-pitch that his cock almost wanted to soften, dragging blood to other parts of his body. The drugs collided in his system, twisting and warping his sense of reality, although there was nowhere for him to go, thrashing and bucking his hips, the pressure inside him too much to bear.

And he had to bear through it, bearing through at all costs. There was something there that he had to push on through, that John was there to take what he needed from him. Donnie groaned. As much as he had made a play at snatching up power for himself, it had never really ever been up to him.

It never had been.

The kiss of leather on his neck was too much for him, wheezing and gasping as if it was already constricting his breathing, though John's hips slamming into his raised buttocks did that trick for him. Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was the drugs but he could barely breathe, the room tilting and swaying, messing with his sense of reality even as he tried to cling so very desperately on to it. He needed it, needed it all, the pump and grind, feeling quite as if he was rocking on an unstable floor, undulating, twisting, turning.

And, still, through it all, there was the pressure on his neck, a hand lifting back and up, tightening the belt. It was coming and the pressure increased, little by little, so little at a time that Donnie barely noticed it, although he did indeed swoon as John pounded him, hips working, the grind of their sweaty bodies coming together more demanding on his attention than anything else ever could have been. His throat worked, windpipe convulsing, though he didn't know what was happening – at least, not yet.

Donnie didn't have to either. All he had to do was submit, to do what he was told, even if the words did not cross the air between them. He gasped, or made the motions of such, trying to work back against John with every thrust, though he just could not seem to get the hump of his hips in time with his brother's. That didn't matter though, not as he was stretched open, forced to take every last driving thrust, the reverberations trembling through his body stoking an ever-deeper need still.

John didn't know that he'd been tightening the belt bit by bit – not at first, at least – but that did not change the way that things happened, one thing after the other. He moaned out loud, uncaring of how loudly he vocalised his lust, not when he could take it all for himself, time after time again. He'd had Donnie all over the place: in the car, up in the makeshift office, his place, Donnie's place, sometimes even just down an alleyway. That was the riskiest thing of all, doing it out in public where anyone could catch them. Not only because they were brothers (not really anyone knew that) but because they could have been toppled, John himself thrown from his throne.

He bared his teeth fiercely, lost in the moment. No, no, no, that could never happen, would not happen. He was John, fucking invincible. He didn't need Donnie there but, hell, he wanted him and so there he would stay, both of them at the top of it all where no one could ever hurt them ever again. It would not happen, it was there that they would stay, but he could not have even claimed to be in control of his own emotions at that very moment in time as he slammed in over and over again.

Sex was by the by as he wrenched his arm back, dragging Donnie along with him, not even knowing or understanding just what was happening, what he was doing. It was all there, he needed it, it was something that he wanted – and John always got what he wanted. He leaned forward over Donnie, his smooth, pale skin filling his vision, but it was all that he saw, blooming, blossoming, spread out and out and out to take up the entire scope of what he saw.

And what more could he ever have seen than Donnie?

Maybe he would have done well to see a little more than Donnie, even in that moment, heaving and gasping, his younger brother twisting beneath him. Dropping his chest to the carpet, Donnie convulsed, though his cock was harder than it had ever been, drops of pre-cum smeared into the carpet, though the stain would not be one that either of them came back to see. It was there in testament, however, to just how his lust ramped up in perfect tandem to the ever-increasing pressure on his throat.

It was no secret that he liked that, even though it had never been explicitly said out loud between the two of them, something that could be done without words, although he didn't have the breath with which to do so. His mouth opened and closed over and over again but there was no way for him to convey that he could not breathe, could not talk, could not come to terms with anything at all that was happening in a drug-induced cocktail of sexual liaison.

It thrummed up through him with every pump of blood, heart beat roaring in his ears, pounding anxiously, desperately, lustfully. He needed it, so very much, trying to moan and yet only managing to make something of a strangled gasp, something that ripped itself from him and left a ragged hole in its wake. There was no softness in the clasp of leather around his throat but Donnie had never really needed softness when it came to what he and his brother shared, some devious part of him leaning into it, wanting more, the ability to breathe swept from him as it tightened yet another notch.

And that single notch was enough as he tried to curse, tried to swear, tried to do everything that he should not have been doing in that moment. As if he needed to rile John up more, he heaved himself up and fought back, drove him on, challenged his position and his power, only for his brother to react in exactly the manner that he had expected him to. John could not abide that, would not abide that, driving over him, fingers cutting in, digging in, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his shoulders where they had cut off the circulation for a heartbeat of a moment.

Blood flow, however, was the least of Donnie's worries as he knew that he had already pushed things too far and was helpless to take anything at all back at that point, rolling his hips, taking what he could. His anal passage closed down around John's cock, tightening and pushing, wanting more. There was always more to come and Donnie was yet to find the limit of that more, even if he was not as yet sure there was even a limit that he couldn't break through or be shoved through, as it was.

Of course, there was a limit and that was the darkest one of all as he grunted and wheezed for breath that simply was not his to take, panting and heaving, need rising up even through the incredible pressure. There was too much for his erratic, jumpy mind to keep track of, losing note of all that was happening. Getting fucked was one thing but the need to breathe was a fundamental one and one that pressed in on his mind with increasing urgency.

Would the belt loosen? Instinct twisted with need and he howled out that need brokenly, cock throbbing, spilling something that could have been an orgasm but was more like something that someone may undertake in the privacy of their bedroom, something without the true ecstasy of orgasm. Drugs could do that but experimentation did it too and there was no way to know which one as the room flashed, shifting from one colour to the next, his chest opening up fully, dragging in breath.

Sweet air!

How he could breathe he did not spare a moment to think about, gulping and heaving, taking in all that he could. His shaft erupted and his balls ached but Donnie was not even sure what his body was doing at that moment in time, rocking and grinding, humping back as much as his thighs ached. He trembled, hardly able to support the weight of his own body, head lowered, need rising, though it had been spent already, had it not?

Things didn't make sense and he wanted them to make sense, even though he could not remember a time where they had actually needed to make sense before. Why did they need to make sense then? Huffing, he pulling weakly at the belt around his neck, almost more of a collar, but it still seemed flush to his skin, not loose enough or light enough to even get his fingers under when he tried so very desperately, though he could not explain why.

But he could breathe...couldn't he?

John had never loosened the belt. He hadn't loosened the belt a single bit as he pounded his brother to completion, too lost in the moment to think about such a thing. With the drugs coursing through his system, he panted and heaved, covering his brother's body with his own, not even thinking about how he was dominating him, just doing it automatically. The belt tightened more and more, the muscles of his arm bulging out slightly, straining with the force of it. And, still, John did not notice, did not realise, his brother's struggles growing frailer and frailer beneath him.

Yes...

_ _

Power surged through his body, the best rush of endorphins that a man could ever have, and John laughed aloud for the sheer hell of it, throwing his head back, muscles tense, slamming in. He barely even felt his brother for how his skin prickled, no longer feeling as if he was a part of his own body. Sensations collided into one another – he could do anything! He could be anything, was anything he wanted to be already! He was the fucking king of the city!

He laughed and laughed and laughed, a gleam of spittle marking his lips, though his brother did not laugh under him, only wheezed. He was fine, his mind told him, hips working furiously, the tight clench of a needy hole reassuring him, if there had even been any part of his mind that had actually needed reassuring. Donnie was as warm as ever against him, sweat beading on his skin, rolling down his shoulder blades, the drugs, somehow, drawing his attention down to just the one bead of sweat, balanced on the back of Donnie's neck.

Fascinated, John leaned over him, eyes fixed, the droplet of sweat a hair's breadth from the leather of the belt, the thing that could have been a collar, a fashion statement or even something else. In a world where it could have been all three, who was to tell? It gleamed, that drop of sweat, and glistened, everything standing out in stark, high definition, until it splattered down, trembling over the crest of Donnie's neck, to splash and mark the leather. But it did not shatter from existence but became several other, smaller, bits of sweat, tiny sparkles that drew John down and down, his attention unwaveringly fixed on that one thing.

Donnie was not privy to any of that, barely able to wheeze as he sought to drag in breath after breath, though there was no true breath left for him to take. His body screamed at him for air, for oxygen, but, even then, he just didn't know how to give it. He thought his hands were up, clawing at the belt, but he could not even be sure he was even moving them, even doing anything at all to fight it.

There was something there, something he had to push by, every muscle in his body tight, screaming, aching. He thrashed or, at least, thought he did, his shoulder connecting with something solid as his vision swayed, dipping from grey to clarity and back again, over and over in swift succession. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing, only that the pain and pleasure of it all slashed into one another, cutting deep, sliding through the arms of ecstasy.

It should not have been so but the release of the belt allowed him enough breath, just a tiny fraction to soothe the edge from his lungs, to stay conscious, even if he didn't know right then and there that that was what he was doing. His cock stayed hard, strangely so, throbbing and seeming to pulse even though there was no seed to flow from him – not yet. It was there, of course, waiting to be spent, but he couldn't lock onto himself even in the heat of such a furtive, fervent moment, feeling as if he was humping and grinding furiously and yet not understanding what he was doing too in the heat of the moment.

What was happening? The room spun, his skin crawled, his anal ring closed down around that cock, wanting it more and more. There was no pain there, no, even despite the lack of lubrication, but Donnie could not help himself from grinding back, panting heavily, chest heaving, lips parted to suck in any little drop of oxygen he could. Fighting and heaving, he tried to turn, but a hand on the back of his head forced him down, palms flat on the floor and elbows bent out to the sides of his body as if he was doing some kind of strange push-up.

It was wrong, all wrong, but the wrongness of it all made it right, in the end, breath catching in his throat – what breath there was, of course. He alternated between feeling as if he was breathing easily and then not able to breathe at all, one moment confusing itself starkly with the next, coming and going, twisting and turning. His cheek pressed to the cool of the floor, need rising and rising, orgasm spluttering form, some coolness and wetness seeping up against his stomach, hips somehow flat to the floor.

He didn't know how that had happened either. He didn't know how very much at all had happened that night.

John's pounding drive was all he needed though, his strong hands gripping, pulling him back as the roar of ecstasy curled and built around him, driving up and up and up, the belt tighter than ever. And who would even need such a thing as breathing when he had John right there with him? There was nothing else for him, no one else there for him, his body exploding in pleasure as his vision swayed, dipped, shivered, even though his head was quite still. The need to breathe fell away as he drifted and floated, higher and higher, leaving his mortal body in the claws of the one he adored while his soul...what? He knew not the answer to that question, however unspoken it was.

He would know no more.

At least...for a time.

John was ignorant to the pain he was causing, though Donnie clenching down on him and squirming beneath him, to be fair to him, would have seemed like him wanting it at any other time. His breath caught harshly in his throat as he pounded him for all he was worth, intent only on his own pleasure, breath rasping harshly through his throat. Even then, he did not understand what a treat and a privilege that breath was, the belt tight and then loose, dropped entirely, slamming in with a ragged howl as orgasm finally erupted over him.

As he filled his brother, he didn't realise that Donnie was still, barely there, his flesh cool and clammy. There was sweat, yes, but it was a cold kind of sweat that bid its due attention, John's hands sliding over his skin and coming away damp. He didn't see it though, didn't feel it, hips working, glutes tensing so much that he would wonder, amusingly, why he was sore the next morning, spilling out more and more. The drugs sent him high, making him feel as if he was a god in the moment, filling Donnie's arse up more than any other human in the world could, although, in all honesty, his climax was as average as the next man's even with the intervention and hindrance of drugs in his system.

He panted, regaining his breath, slowing, drawing back, a spill of semen oozing from Donnie's backside as his softly gaping hole was, once again, freed and emptied. John's cock remained hard for a moment but, even when high, it was still too sensitive to spend more in the throes of bliss, gleaming with his own cum, a sultry sheen that John thought, very much, should be cleaned off by Donnie's lips once a little basic clean-up had been done first.

“Hey..."

He poked Donnie's side, above the raised curve of his buttocks, though the skin there merely indented and released without any reaction of the body.

Odd...

_ _

“Donnie? What the fuck?"

He poked him again, harder that time, trying to gain a response. And then John realised the belt was still around Donnie's neck, things moving quickly and slowly at the same time, the frantic pace of his heart setting the pace and the scene.

Fingers under the belt, scrabbling, scraping, tugging it loose. Donnie's bruised neck. Fumbling to get his brother onto his back. His half-closed eyes. The lack of breath rustling from his lips, fluttering, paper-light, a weak heartbeat that John was not even sure was actually there.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

John may have shrieked but there was no one there in the waking world to pay heed to him, his hands everywhere, trying to sit Donnie up, as futile an endeavour as that was for someone who was unconscious and, well, barely breathing too. Was he breathing? Had John imagined it? His world stopped, not even turning, the earth holding its breath, waiting to see just what would happen.

What would the king of the city, the evil overlord, do if his brother was...

“Donnie? Donnie!"

Cursing, John slapped his face – that worked, didn't it? That worked when people had to wake someone up? Truth be told, he had never done that before and it was all he could do to haul himself upright, staggering to the kitchen. The booze in his system tipped him off-balance but he knew he had to get there, to get it, to help Donnie, yes... Help him in any way possible.

Yet for someone as far gone as John was in that moment, drunk and high at the same time, he may as well have asked himself to climb a mountain, huffing and puffing and dragging himself, limb by heavy limb, all the way to the peak.

Smash!

_ _

That was the first glass. The second was more successful as the side effects of the drugs coursed through him, flashing lights and random smells assaulting his senses. It was not something that he usually had to deal with and he clenched his jaws against it, refusing to acknowledge the reason why as he filled the glass with too powerful a stream of water from the tap, causing it to hiss and appear to be frothing as if that one little glass alone housed some kind of sea monster.

Focus!

_ _

He stumbled back, sloshing half the water over the floor and himself along the way, panting heavily. Donnie lay there, on his side, still unresponsive but John ground his teeth together and did not pause as he threw it in Donnie's face. It splashed down, soaking his hair, though half a glass wasn't enough to, of course, drench him, his brother's chest moving very faintly, very weakly, his body trying but clearly too not trying hard enough.

Gnawing the inside of his cheek until the metallic rush of blood flooded his mouth, John waited. Was that a blink he saw?

“Donnie, for fuck's sake..."

Again, he raced back to the kitchen as if the hounds of hell itself were on his heels. Faster, faster, he had to do it, had to get Donnie back. He'd gone too far, too far that time, and there had to be a way to make sure the doing was undone if he had indeed done “it". He didn't even know what he was thinking as he rushed back with a fuller glass that time, only to see his brother most definitely blinking, fingers twitching, almost as if he was trying to sit up.

“Wait, wait," he said, throwing the word out twice in case Donnie did not listen the first time. “Fuck, you fucking scared me there..."

Donnie blinked slowly, allowing himself to be helped up, though it felt strange, even in that moment, to have John aiding him. Hadn't it been the other way around for a long time when John overdosed or got himself blackout drunk? But it was nice too to be looked after and he leaned back as a cushion was even shoved behind his back, however clumsily. What was up with that, he did not know, but it was good too, good to be taken care of, good to have someone there for him.

What was strange though was the concern on John's face, though there was a growing pain in his throat and neck, Donnie coughing weakly, sounding pathetic even to his ears. Shit, if he kept that up, John was going to be mocking him for days, if not weeks, even if he said it was all in good fun.

“Drink this."

He'd expected something harsher but it was just water and it felt good slipping down, cooling his throat, other parts of him aching more than he'd expected them to. His back, the lines of muscles across his shoulders and down to his triceps, even around under his arms to the pecs in his chest. It was all sore as if he'd been fighting and twisting and writhing but all he remembered was...

Donnie's eyes widened, locking onto John and then, a mere moment later, dropping to the belt on the floor, still slipped through its own buckle with a line in the leather as if to denote just how tightly it had been yanked. For a moment, neither of them said anything, staring, waiting, and then it started.

A bubble. A tickle. It rose from Donnie's aching chest in a way that could not be stopped, demanding attention, teasing through him. He laughed as much as it hurt him too and John slumped against him, hopefully, weak in a moment where, perhaps, it would have been more becoming for him to be the stronger one of the two. But that was okay as there were only the two of them there and neither one of them were going to say anything about the incident, as much as it was strange, trying, painful. Wasn't so much in their lives such?

Yet not even Donnie could find the strength in him to hold back his need, his cock throbbing, orgasm having been his even though his active, waking mind had absolutely no recollection of it. Apparently, blacking out like that could interfere with short-term memory but he could fix that as he dipped down, John's chuckles stopping as his brother took his cock in hand, pumping him, slowly but surely, back to full hardness. With a shudder, John groaned, thrusting his shoulder blades back with a sharp snap of decisive action, braced against the chair.

“Unnff... Donnie..."

“What?"

He wanted to say that his brother didn't have to do that but, like with so many other things that night, he didn't have it in him, the need to be close to another coming through, pressing up too urgently on his mind. All he could do was sit back, fumbling with his eyes half-lidded for Donnie's shaft, though John was surprised to find it half-hard already. Was his brother still turned on by what had happened?

It was a question for another time and a time when he would not be under the influence of so many things, though when that would be neither of them could say. They could sit close, however, leaning into one another, finding pleasure in one another's bodies even as Donnie's free hand pressed to his throat, easing over the sides where his windpipe, however briefly, had been crushed. As much as he wanted to, it was far too sensitive to bear down on and he did not put his bruised throat under too much pressure, relaxing into the moment as much as he could, although he was sure, even then, that he would sleep well that night.

The rise of orgasm came quickly, the closeness and heat of another body pressed up to him making it urgent, throbbing up thick and fast. There was no aiming but he gasped as John's hand pumped quicker and quicker, working him over, knowing just how to make him squirm even though it was not usually something that John did for him. His flesh tensed, muscle contracting, cock spurting, drooling out thick globules of cum as it slicked down his own length. There was not much to come, perhaps as he had already gotten off with the belt around his neck, but it was a more satisfying climax, the kind that lingered even after the initial ecstasy had passed, teasing on through, lips parted and panting softly.

He was barely aware of John getting off too but there was something about the voyeur aspect too that took his fancy, at least on the course of that particular night. He thrust into Donnie's hand, doing most of the work for him, but once his orgasm was done, he was more than a little insistent about putting his arms around Donnie, dragging him up, holding him steady.

“I don't want to..."

Though what he didn't want to do was beyond Donnie, fighting weakly when it was not a fight he wanted to keep up. Insistent and firm, John dug his heels in, towing Donnie along with him, for the bedroom called.

There would be other times to explore what had happened that night. Times when his hands weren't shaking so badly.

“Come on, Donnie."

Sleep called them both.

*

John may not have been there at that moment in time but Donnie's memories were there, knowing that John was safe and sound, even if elsewhere. Cum coated his hand and he half went to wipe it off on his jeans before thinking better of it, his clothes slipped down only enough so that he'd been able to get his cock out into his hands. Need had been the name of that game but his chest heaved a little more than it usually did after his own brand of personal fun, his cum splattering his lower abdomen.

The familiar crackle and hiss to the portal of the otherworld caught his attention and he tipped his head back, looking at it upside-down as the one that he had, duly, been fantasising about stepped through wearing nothing but a smile, in his full demon garb of a body that boasted two splendid pairs of wings. Lifting a bottle of demonic alcohol (Donnie could not pronounce the name of that one in their strange tongue) to his lips, John took a glug straight from the bottle, smirking as his hair tousled around his horns. He could have just woken up or style his hair like that. Either way, Donnie would never know.

Smirking, John wiped the back of his hand across his face, an eyebrow raised. Of course, his cock was already hard.

“Did you miss me, dearest?"

Donnie grinned.

“It's as if you don't even have to ask..."

The day was set to get even more interesting than it had been!