FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Brotherly First Times

---

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Mirath

_ _

_ _

John grunted thickly, leaning back in a chair that did not quite support his weight as it needed to. Slender and lean to the naked eye, he was not a man that should have needed a stronger chair to bear him but the fact of the matter was that his long legs kicked out under the desk too far, the wood squeaking where it had been abused for a number of years already. The chair was second hand (or third, or fourth) but it had been Donnie who had outfitted everything in the new apartment, however small and rickety it was.

He scowled, hands back behind his head, hair a little shorter than usual, though it still draped down, reaching for his shoulders. Donnie had made him go, though he was just as bad as he was for keeping up on matters like that. He wanted to look slick and well-groomed, putting on a front, but the actual doing of it was harder than many, including himself, may have realised. It was just not the way things had been, school and a life under shaky parental figures behind them now, though moving out into an apartment for just the three brothers had been the best step for all of them.

They'd manage on their own, better on their own. Yet he was the oldest and the head of the family, his small bedroom sparsely furnished with paint peeling in the corner but, well, at least it wasn't damp and mouldy. John made a face, brushing his fingers through his dark hair once again as they came up short, his body still expecting there to be more length there than there actually was. It was funny how things like that worked and he wouldn't stop looking over his shoulder or even ahead of him too for the shadows that lurked, nipping at his heels.

No. He closed his hand into the fist, staring at the computer screen before him, a blocky, old thing, until it blurred, but not with tears. He wasn't one for that and had never been one for that, so it would not come to be yet again. It was not the way he worked and he grunted thickly, turning his face from the dank, grey light of midday streaming through the window, although there was no one on the other side that could have borne witness to what he so forlornly tried to lock away.

Maybe it would change him, one day. Maybe it would become him, one day. Maybe it would overcome him, one day.

Who was really to know?

There was only so much that a man could do, however, the squeak of the computer chair wheels grating against his eardrums. The smallest noise, sometimes, tap-danced on his nerves and his fingers drummed on the desk, stopping and starting, needing to relieve something, a tight muscle, and yet other parts of his body simply not being able to take the noise. What was wrong with him? Why was he like that? Had he just not gotten out enough lately?

He brushed the computer mouse with his hand as he jerked it back once again, heart pounding, and the screen flickered to life, the tab with his browsing history open. He could barely remember what he'd been doing before something else, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, had distracted him but that paled into insignificance as he shook himself, eyes raking down the list of websites. So sordid, a man may well have wanted to delete or wipe them clean but John could not bring himself to care, daring anyone to look at what he looked at, even though there was more than one site in that list that called his attention, simpering and whispering out his name like a siren clad in holy clothes.

A favourite site and a click of the mouse. John grinned faintly, something lighter returning to his soul, making it just a little bit easier to lift his head, to tilt his chin up. Even the bristle of his hair on the back of his neck did not irritate him as much as it had, his hand on his thigh, scanning the screen for what could have been an old favourite or something new, something that was carnal and coarse and would chase all manner of unwholesome thoughts from his mind...while filling it with even less wholesome thoughts. And just what else was pornography for?

A little relief...yes. Yes, he needed that. That was just what he needed. Smirking to himself, John unfastened his trousers without thinking, his digits finding the button and zip without even having to look. He'd done it enough times, masturbation being one, little solace that could be taken anywhere, though he did rather prefer to have a partner for the deed itself. It could not be helped, however, as the clunk of a computer before him ground into gear, whirring in the heat of the summer, though there was nothing there to cool it down. Donnie had gotten the tricked-up gear for the computing side and, well, it was better-placed with him, as much as John grumbled publicly. It was his little schemes, after all, that kept them going with a little money in their pockets.

Donnie would be horrified to see what he'd been looking at later but, well, that sounded like a Donnie problem to him. Freeing his shaft, still soft, he browsed aimlessly, directionlessly, much as he went through the rest of his life. That was how it had always been for him and, well, he could not say that it had not, so far, gotten him to where he was. Just where he was, however, was another question entirely but something so intimately carnal could let him, at least for a time, languish in the moment, not think about anything else, the lusts of the body coming through above all else. It was rather like taking drugs, though the crudeness of snorting lines did not mesh well with him, something that was only to come into a grander air of finesse in later years.

Like all else, corruption would come.

His hand closed on his shaft, thickening patiently while he looked for what he wanted. All men, of course, as were his inclinations, but a man like him did not have to justify just what he was into. Lazily, he clicked through to another site and another screen, hardly caring what he was watching. Something dark – bondage? Well, the guys there looked like they were enjoying themselves...

Not his usual style but John moved from one to the other as if they were changing fashions, his life ever in rotation to new and interesting things. The power and control, smug confidence, on the 'master's' face had his heart beat racing, imagining himself in that position, a leather-bound twink on the floor beneath him. He groaned deep in the back of his throat, losing himself in a fantasy that greatly diverged from the straps and tracings at play on the screen, imagining how someone would beg for him, how he would twist his hand into their hair, pull and yank.

“Fuck yeah..."

Just an exclamation but one that surely let him know that he was on the right track, his mind wandering. Leave that for the time being: there were other videos to check out. Men in the gym, rippling with muscle – not quite for him, not that time. Maybe if they were on the floor, sucking his dick, making him feel like the god he well and truly was? John smirked, heart lifting, chest pushing out unconsciously. Youth and boldness clad in a sense of false grandeur could lead one astray but there was no wrong path when it came to fantasies, even if he did truly, in his deepest, darkest sense of being, want to stand above all men in that manner, the one that they looked up to, the one that dominated them all without even lifting a finger.

His cock pulsed, squeezing out a glistening drop of creamy pre-cum, and he gasped, breath catching in his throat where his windpipe should have been open. Was that not what all men wanted – that ultimate power? On the screen, the men groaned, one dark-skinned, the others white – but what did he fucking care about that? A fuck was a fuck and he was there for the lust of it, watching them move, his eyes on the slender man who was bottoming (ah, how fucking typical was that that they'd put him on the lowest rung of the ladder even there?) and the rise of his white flesh.

Yeah... I'd do him.

_ _

John's hand worked his cock, teasing it lightly, letting his natural arousal come to the forefront of his mind. He didn't have to force the issue for it was all about self-pleasure, after all, and faking it wasn't going to help out anything at all. He was there for himself and himself alone, even as he clicked, randomly, into another film where the camera angle, he supposed, was supposed to make him feel as if he was actually fucking the guy in the shot.

Yes...

_ _

Yes, that was much better. A nice guy, someone that had a body he could pin down, someone he could take, someone that he could feel that he was overcoming. John growled, licking his lips, though there was only so much that he could do from his position, tipping forward hungrily towards the screen, the camera view rocking and tilting, the man who was, at that moment, getting his hole filled groaning and howling as if it was the best fuck in the world. Whether it was just for the camera or for something more, however, was something that not even John could know, though his kinky mind filled in the gaps, made it a matter of his own imagining, his own fantasy coming through.

“Yeah, just like that," the man that was the point of view of the cheesy film groaned. “You take it... Fuck!"

Any more that may or may not have been said was lost in a slew of grunts and moans, John joining them as he felt himself to be right here in the thick of it all. Yes, he could feel it – he could feel everything. He was there with him, his cock the biggest and the best thing that they'd ever seen, ever wanted (well, he was still young, a man not yet come into his prime and cockiness brimming over in every regard). His eyes hazed over as he lived there, in that world, feeling a needy hole closing around his cock, how it clenched down, so tight, tighter than the last one he'd fucked. But that had been a glory hole dare and, well...

No, not something to linger on, solely because things were ramping up on screen, his pre-cum spilling hotly over onto his hand, making him want to pump and work his cock over and over again, to sweet completion. He needed it all, every last inch pleasured, growling and grunting like a wild animal, lost in the moment as the wheels of the computer chair, as they were so very apt to do, squeaked and squealed, a fitting backdrop that, thankfully, no longer annoyed him in the sweetness of self-abuse of the most pleasurable fashion.

And then he heard one word that made him freeze, if only for a heartbeat of a moment, a second that passed so fleetingly that, later, he would swear that he had not even realised it had happened.

“John?"

He should have been embarrassed. He should have heard Donnie coming. He should have done something. But, as it was, all John did was sit there, pumping and working his length with slower, less urgent strokes, barely even casting his brother a look back over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye. It was not that he wasn't important enough, of course, for his attention but that he wanted to pay his due attention to something else in that moment, his own wants and needs coming above even Donnie's comfort. Truth be told, John had forgotten that he was not at all alone in the apartment at that time and wondered too if Charles was home.

Instead of apologising, however, or doing something at all resembling the action of a rational and sane human being, he growled, grunting thickly through the heat of tension in his throat. His need, after all, was still there, demanding he do something about it and that had a funny way of picking on a man at the best and worst of times.

“Do you even knock?"

Donnie gulped and rolled his eyes, taking a step back. With his brother there, those men on the screen...it was harder than he wanted to actively admit to just to think. Blood roared in his ears, eardrums pounding with the beat of his pulse, da-dum, da-dum-da-dum-dadumdadum! It was all he could do to not clutch his head and moan, though he was quite sure, even then that something of that nature would have very much been taken the wrong way. And he didn't want his brother to think that!

What he did not see, however, his eyes fixed to the horror show of lust and sexual debauchery on the screen before John was, was his brother's cock in his hand, how it worked and teased, though John was not about to stop. The bulk of the chair and his body hid it from view, though it should not have taken a genius to work out what was really going on down there, breath raking through his throat as John let out yet another moan.

“So, you gonna...unfff...fucking stand there or what?"

And, still, Donnie could not move, as much as he wanted to. The moans that rose were no longer John's but he could not see John himself turning up the volume either with a smirk on his lips, his wicked nature riling through all else. Ah, he could pretend to be good as much as he wanted to but he really was a devious bastard at the best of times, someone who could cut to the quick without thinking twice about it. People were interesting and, truly, Donnie was the most interesting of them all to him. Sometimes he just wanted to see what he could do to make those so very interesting people dance for him, even if it was not always to a tune of his choice.

He swallowed a groan. That was just what made them interesting.

“I... Uh..."

But Donnie could hardly breathe, a hand pressed to his chest, shaking his head as he shakily shifted his glasses up his nose. He was only wearing them until he could get surgery – something that another of his money-making schemes, he was sure, was set to pay for – but he'd find later on that they were as much a part of his identity as just wearing shoes was. It was just the way things were but he wished that he didn't have to see just what was before him, John grunting, turning back to the screen, the pixels forming real people, real fucking living people, on the screen, doing all manner of things.

He shouldn't have stared but anyone in the know knew just what a fear response was, what locked one's legs into place, turning them into stone. He couldn't breathe, the nuance of perhaps being able to slipping from his mind like a literal breath of air. How ironic was that?

Though it was not ironic at all how his heart pounded, how he wobbled, swayed, tilting drunkenly even though he was quite sober at that moment, which was strange enough for him. John had started him on that and, strangely, it had made things easier with their home life, so he'd just kept on doing it. John paid him little mind, attention wavering, but he had the lusts of the body to take into account, so his brother lurking behind him, as creepy as that should have been was just not something that he was going to waste time and energy focusing on, turning his back to him and licking his lips. Let Donnie figure out his own problems for once. Things would come right there, however that was, he was sure.

And, still, Donnie hesitated, inching forward a step, mind swirling with questions, a tangle that, from which, no singular one could be discerned. Was what those people were doing on the screen something that would make things easier for him too?

Donnie grunted, the slick fwap of a hand on cock-flesh filling the air, even if his brain was still working too slowly to pick up on it, to place the sound accurately. There was only one way to find out the answer to that particular question, even if he wasn't so sure he wanted to know that answer. There weren't many answers in life that he'd wanted to find, truly. Before he knew it, his legs were in motion, dragging him in closer to that screen and revealing just what that sound was to his gaping horror, mouth comically falling open as he all but shrieked.

“John! What the fuck?"

“Oh, for fuck's sake..."

John snarled, turning on him, eyes blazing. And what else could poor Donnie do but take another step away, dancing from one foot to the other, heart in his mouth as John well and truly took his own cock in hand.

“I don't know what's fucking wrong with you, standing there like an idiot while you've clearly fucking walked in on something you shouldn't have!"

It was enough to be interrupted but, well, chastised at least in part for what he was doing? That just wasn't something John could stand for, shoving the chair back and half-rotating it so that Donnie had a better view. What was he going to do about it, huh? What was the interesting soul going to do? Perhaps it should have occurred to him that what he was doing was not the normal way to go about things at all but neither John nor Donnie could have said that anything they had done in life had been normal so far. And all his brother did was stand there dully, his eyes glassy and hazed over though with what John didn't care to know.

“You want to fucking get off, you do it yourself," he growled, the feral sound ripping itself from his mouth as if it was actually sourced from the rippling, dripping muzzle of some feral beast. “Or sit here and fucking do it, I don't fucking care – it's you and your fucking hand tonight, mate."

Donnie gulped and shook his head, though he pulled himself together, drawing into himself, guarded, despite how his skin crawled heatedly.

Don't look down.

_ _

He shouldn't look. He really should not have looked.

“You've been watching too much TV," he said instead, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, the floorboards creaking under his feet as his weight shifted. “No one says shit like that anymore."

Whether that was true or not was by the by as John's attention swayed from him, the camera angle on the screen changing to show a man with his mouth full of cock, cum drooling out the corners of his lips. John scowled and had his hand on the mouse in an instant, pressing his lips together. Damn it. He'd missed the show!

“Yeah... Fucking boring."

John was not speaking to him but Donnie inched in closer as if he thought he was going to be chased away (it would have been more than fair enough if he was to be chased off), not knowing why John hadn't told him to get lost already. It was a show, indeed, but one that had already hypnotised him, something that made him want to see more, to know more, to even do more, though none of that made any kind of sense at all. He didn't know why he was doing what he was doing or why nothing made sense but it just didn't feel like it had to in the heat of the moment, skin prickling with warmth and tension, muscles taut as if he felt as if he needed to be able to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Was there danger? His body thought there was, but, if that was to be so, it reacted in a way that he could not have anticipated, lust rising as another video popped up, this time of a guy's hole drooling what had to be cum, someone else spreading his arse-cheeks to make it all the more obvious. Donnie made a strangled sound in his throat but his body reacted, his cock thickening, trying to break through the suddenly very fragile and tentative barrier of his underwear. It was too raw and carnal and he pushed away every last tiny little sensation that he possibly could, lungs aching, stomach churning, other parts of him... No.

No, that wasn't a thought he should have. But John looked back at him with a roll of his eyes as more and more cum slopped from that bareback bred ass (that was the title of the video), the guy on the screen loudly and lewdly putting on a show for them as John worked his cock more and more fervently. So close... He groaned, licking his lips, grazing them with his teeth. Yet he couldn't get off, not quite yet. He wasn't there yet and that was okay, panting softly, arching his back, pushing his hips up as if his cock thought that, even there, there was a needy hole that could be filled.

Yet Donnie's noises caught his attention, drawing him back from that luxurious brink of pleasure, grunting and groaning and shifting away, his hand working though it was not to be in that particular moment at least.

“What the fuck's all that about? Donnie, if you didn't know I was fucking gay by now..."

“No, no!" Donnie held up his hands, rolling his eyes – he had to, it felt more normal than anything else that what was going on between them. “Yeah, I got that, shit, but I didn't think you...well..."

“Were into this?" John gestured at the screen, cock throbbing up hard and ready, twitching lightly as if his body simply could not take a moment more of any manner of pleasure. “Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. It's just something to get off too, isn't it?"

Donnie nodded, however minutely, and John scoffed, sliding his gaze away. John smirked, breathless, hand working, sliding the skin of his cock back and forth. A repetitive motion, it at least did not require much thought to be put into it, leaving him free to think about his brother, consider just what was going on there. There had to be something, some reason as to why his eyes lingered, why neither of them were, well, shocked by what was going on. Even John wasn't so far gone in the strangeness of life to now know that things were, indeed, rather strange at that moment. And, sometimes, that strangeness was okay too.

He groaned, eyes falling half-lidded, a sudden rush of pleasure nearly tipping him over the edge. Too close for comfort and yet, still, too far away, Donnie gasped and flinched lightly. It was then that John knew what he had to do. It was, after all, the only thing he could do – offering something that a like soul, right then and there, so clearly needed, tension crackling in the air between them.

“You want to get off?"

Donnie swallowed. It was a hard one to deny. Truly, so many men that he knew would have had a hard time denying it, at least at their age. Was there a time that he didn't want to get something like that, a lick of pleasure? It was all they'd had sometimes, mind swirling with intoxicants, things that made him think that he'd never again be able to think clearly and, frankly, he didn't want to think straight either. It was that touch, the feel of something let alone anything specific, that had kept him going sometimes and, still, he yearned for it like a thirsty man clad in the pit of the desert, longing for a single drink.

Yet he would not delve into something so dark and so deep with John, his brother: that wasn't how they did things. Things were different for them, different for Charles too, and they didn't talk like that. At least, not yet. Sometimes with Charles, if things were good, but definitely not him and John. So all he had left at his disposal, in that case, were jokes, the mockery and the light-heartedness with a grain of truth blossoming at its core.

“You know I've not brought any guys back here." He paused, rolling his eyes as a hint of good humour returned to him. “Fucking in an alley isn't my style."

John laughed, aiding, at least, in lightening the tension further, letting Donnie slip back to the bed, the bulge in his jeans impossible to either deny or hide, though neither of them dared acknowledge it. Something hung in the air between them that they would not say, never aloud, only time telling whether it would come out into the forefront of it all. And they had to allow it that time.

“Yeah... Well, I don't like the thought of going out for a screw in the middle of the day, so it's this shit I've got. Unless you're willing to lend a helping hand, of course, my dear."

It was meant to be a joke but John's tone could not help but slip sensually into something softer and more suave, teasing through the air. It was finer than a silk glove, a sip of fine wine, and Donnie sucked in a breath, lips parting softly. His heart lifted and he knew he should not have done it but his brother had already seen the change in his expression.

“Oh, you like that, do you?" John grinned, an eyebrow cocked. “Well... No one's going to know and I don't like using my own hand – who does? Get over here and try the job on then...for me."

Donnie's heart hammered, dully roaring in the back of his mind. He couldn't, he wouldn't, and yet he was moving without his mind actively commanding it, for his life and heart were in the hands of another from that point on. It was something that would take him many years to see and come to terms with but it would all come right in the end, taking him to highs and heights that, at that point in time, he simply could not have dreamed off.

The computer chair squeaked as John rocked it back, cock twitching, both eyebrows raised. Was he really doing it, going to do it? Damn, he hadn't even thought that, it was all a joke, but morbid curiosity itself was a potent beast rearing a highly pleasurable head as his brother broke eye contact, looking down at his cock and near enough visibly shaking. Or maybe that was him...

“Go on then," he laughed, humour his best ally in a moment that set even him on the back foot. “Stroke it then."

Like anyone said that anymore either but it was as good a line as any as Donnie gulped hard, trying to swallow and failing, saliva thickly clogging up his cloyingly tight throat. It was too much, all of it, and yet something in him pulled him to obey, entirely lucid and just wanting...something. And that something was right there before him to be taken even as his view of the world changed, trying to sidle in closer and take his brother's cock, so very shakily, in hand at the same time, heart in his mouth and stomach turning over and over, sickeningly so.

It was hard, like his. It was soft, like his. That strange bit of give around his shaft before the firmness where it had pumped through with blood supplied its sense of rigidity and power. Donnie gasped, head spinning, but John leaned back in the chair as if he was the king of the world, though not even he could believe that it was all quite going down like that.

“Fuck, you're eager, aren't you?"

It wasn't a question Donnie had to answer but John was watching him, letting his body do the talking for him where his lips remained frozen, parted with a glint of moisture on the lower one. Every edge and every tremor in his brother's body told a story and John's racing mind did what it could to unpick the threaded tale of each and every one of them, even if he did, duly, leap to incorrect conclusions. It didn't matter when it was his own picture he was painting, heaving and grunting, trying to rock his hips lightly up into that hold, wanting what his body wanted too in spades, tenfold, over and over again.

Donnie pressed his lips together, sealing back a whimper, blood roaring in his ears. Just what did he think he was doing? Sure, his brother was challenging him but did he really have to fall into his trap like that? He was going to take the piss out of him something dreadful, make things really awkward between them – anything bad! And yet his brother only groaned and acted as if he wanted it too, so just what was he to believe? Donnie shook his head, hand shifting, though it was more his half-crouched position that made it hard to keep his palm and softly folded fingers perfectly still than anything else. If it was misconstrued as a thrust or a pump, well...that wasn't for him to worry about. He would not worry about it.

Yet that cock was so hard against his hand that he could not help but stare, comparing it to his own, the length and size comparable and yet seeming to be so much more too in a moment that he was yet to pull apart and examine. Donnie licked his lips without thinking, squeezing and twitching his fingers awkwardly around that cock, though it would have seemed stranger still to let his brother go after they'd pushed so far and come together in such a way already. Was that right or was that wrong? There was no way to tell anymore but the ache in his guts and his loins could not be denied, blood pumping, heat tingling erotically through his body from the tips of his fingers down to his toes and certain organs that intentionally thrust themselves out into the limelight.

John heaved and grasped, the moment stretching out and out, better than he could have imagined, if he'd ever even before dared to imagine such a thing coming to pass. And it was still in the beginning stages, cock drooling pre-cum lightly over his brother's hand, chest shuddering up, the dampness of sweat under his armpits heading the heat of his body. He needed to know, needed to see what lay beneath, his morbid curiosity getting the better of him, pushing him, pushing his own mind to lower depths than ever before. He could push buttons but, ah, they didn't have to be Donnie's buttons, no: they could be other buttons too, his buttons, things that he didn't even know about himself coming to light.

“Small Donnie..." John murmured, fingers twitching as he gripped the arm of his chair, the videos still playing, their lust filling the room and fuelling that of the real people at play there. “I almost think you want this."

That was just another unspoken question that Donnie would not answer, swallowing hard as he squeezed, though he would later say that it was just a bodily reflex, something that he had not meant to do. But a man could not deny how his hand moved, knees quivering, wanting to buckle, if only to drop his body into a more comfortable position. Everything was awkward, so very much so, but it did not have to be, if only he would give in to it, tease the darkness that his brother was offering into the light and suck it in deep.

And John knew it too, watching him intently, catching his breath, the shuddering rise and fall of his chest in tune and time with his younger brother's. He wanted it. It didn't matter to him that they were related – it was just a moment of need, after all. Only later would John realise just why he was so intent on justifying it even to himself, though it was not a revelation that would, at all, change the course of events playing out as if they had some time long ago been written by the hand of destiny itself.

“No one has to know, Donnie," John breathed, eyes alight with dark intent, pushing the limits, pushing the buttons that were all there to be pushed. “No one at all... Just you and me. Where's the harm when it's all for fun, huh?"

Donnie didn't know whether that was true or not but he had already gone so far that holding back just wasn't on the cards, the feel of the hard shaft against his palm familiar and foreign at the same time. Like his own, but not. Like those who had gone before, but not. Without thinking (thinking was too difficult), Donnie shakily moved his hand, not even pumping, not trying to please, just trying to work out the new territory and lay of the land that, unduly, he had been so thrust into.

Just a stroke. One stroke. A thrust and a pump. He couldn't stay still, shifting his weight, thighs burning from holding his position, yet he could not collapse down into it for that would be the undoing for him, the point from which he could no longer go back, could never again return from. Without thinking, Donnie let a whimper out, lips parting, eyes plaintive, begging for something, though whether to be allowed to leave or a want to continue not even he knew. No one knew and that was the beauty of it as he delivered such a pleasure unto a man that he had never before considered in that way, working his hand, feeling out the curve of his shaft as he never had done before.

It was new and it could be as fresh and as (to hell with it) kinky as it liked, Donnie panting lightly, too hot and uncomfortable even though he was not truly engaging in activity that was all that physical. There was something about sex, even masturbation, that had him drifting and floating on his own little high, something that they could come down from at any point. Maybe that was what was so good about it, the tentative nature of its fragility, though there was nothing frail about how John grunted and thrust, eyes flicking between him and the computer screen, though it was harder and harder to tell just where his attention lay at that moment.

He had to push: John knew that. He was so close already, something getting to him, getting under his skin, eyes on his brother, watching him out of the corner of his eye even when he was pretending that he was not. What could be hotter than that, bending someone to his will, watching them break, watching their position crumble? Huffing hotly, he twisted his head back and forth, grasping at his collar to pull it out from his neck, though it wouldn't do anything to relieve the heat boiling over in his body, demanding attention, the churning need in his loins.

“Come on," he grunted, a hand gripping his brother's chin without thinking, nails biting in however briefly. “You can do better than that."

It was phrased like a challenge even as he was released and Donnie groaned, setting his stance, reaching out, hunkering down, his knees connecting with the creaky, bare floorboards before his mind could catch up with what he was doing. He didn't have to think though, only feel, and, fuck, it wasn't as if he was the only one in it, the only one who was well and truly in the shit if things went tits up in the end.

It didn't give him immunity or invulnerability but it gave him something as he imagined another man before him, letting the stream of videos fill his mind, let him think of something else, finally allow him to fantasise without a cocktail of drugs to push him there. He didn't seem to need it anymore to feel good, heart surging, blood pulsing, and, damn, did it feel good! He groaned, parting his lips at just the right moment to take that shaft into his mouth, the gasp that his brother gave in turn oddly gratifying.

John stared down at him, wide-eyed, but not even he could have anticipated that he would have been getting head off his very own brother that night, panting and gasping, trying to arch his back for a thrust that did and did not want to come. But there was little a body could do to deny such pleasure and his cock throbbed to attention, pulsing within his brother's mouth, the hot close of damp lips around his girth, sliding over the head. He could not help but try to thrust, at the whims of his body while his heart raced, a hand drifting to his younger brother's head, brushing his hair – something that he honestly couldn't remember doing ever before.

It was kind of nice. In a strange way, but nice all the same.

There was only one thing for him to do, grunting thickly in the back of his throat and thrusting up, twisting his fingers into that hair, though he didn't have to quite think about who it was attached to. Just for fun – that was what he'd said, and he'd do well to live by that too, remembering why he'd pushed his brother a little further in the first place.

He just wanted a good time and, really, was that all such a bad thing?

Donnie didn't consider anything or, at least, he tried not to. That was all that kept him right there where he needed to be in the moment, sucking that cock slowly up into his mouth, testing the girth, the length, how he needed to keep his teeth away from that so very sensitive flesh. It was right but it was wrong and the spill of pre-cum, light and delicious, slurping down his throat with a well-timed swallow. It was easy to suck dick and, well, he didn't have to really think about it either, such a reflex, a place that he was comfortable in. It was just like fucking someone, feeling the closure of a tight passage around his length, ploughing into someone who moaned in time with him, still begging and wanting him for more. He'd never had a partner that didn't want it, of course, even if they were not a vocal sort and it was, perhaps, his undoing that he only had good associations with sex then.

He was only going to add to them.

“Yeah..." John hissed through his teeth, slumping back in his chair, letting Donnie work him over, that hot mouth doing everything he had never known he even needed. “Suck it all... All of it... Fuck yeah..."

There was no rule saying that someone had to be eloquent in sex, after all, and the crudities spilt from his lips one after the other, coming hastily as if they had to fumble for dominance and prominence against one another. Snarling, he dragged his brother down and felt him coming right along with him, eagerly taking his cock, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, though it was more John doing it than him at that moment. No one cared – not when there was pleasure at the heart of it all, the name of the game that they and only they were dead set on playing.

He couldn't stop, bobbing his head, letting John guide him, listening, taking his cues where they came. Oh, John liked when he pressed his tongue up? Well, he could do that. He was all about the mutual pleasure of pleasing a partner, after all, and he groaned softly around his length, letting that add to it all, every little sensation coming together in a beautiful cacophony. It was one thing too for him that didn't really require all that much thought, letting his body and the rhythm of it carry him through, drive him to highs and passions, lust commanding him as much as the man above him.

Did it matter anymore that John was his brother? With his cock throbbing, his brother's pounding so very urgently into the back of his throat, near enough triggering his gag reflex with just how unprepared he was for it, he wasn't sure about that anymore. He wasn't sure about anything at all anymore. He just needed it, the heat of another body against his, feeling something, lust rising, wanting to hump, to grind, his own shaft aching for attention. Yet that was attention that, one way or another, would have to come later as John twisted his head to the side suddenly, letting out a raw and ragged howl as he coarsely thrust and, without any word of warning at all, spilt his load into Donnie's mouth.

Pump after pump of cum spurted straight onto his tongue, streaming down his throat, forcing him to gulp and swallow rapidly, eyes watering, the strain of it all taking him out of the moment. And yet he had to do it solely as a matter of pride, looking to please his partner of that time while his body and mind fully expected everything, at least in some way, to be reciprocated even if he didn't quite know how that would work with John, his own brother.

His eyes half-lidded, letting that cock fill his vision, suck him down, hands finally wandering. Maybe he should have used them earlier but it was all the more intimate there, in a way, to touch and brush with fingertips, feeling on the curves, the creases around the flesh of his sack, how his nuts seemed to pulse with each spurt. Yet a man's climax was not destined to last forever and he was left panting as John's cock softened, slipping from his mouth too soon, one of the two of them left wanting while John hissed and groaned, the release of tension more than even he could have thought possible with such a thing.

Fuck...

“Fuck... That was good."

John slumped in the chair, spinning halfway away, panting with a light smile pulling his lips apart, breathing through his mouth while Donnie tried to regain his composure. It was a task in itself that was harder than expected, his hair mussed up and pulled out of place, eyes sliding away, flushed and heady, skin prickling with a touch of sweat. He wiped his forehead awkwardly and rocked back on his heels, though it was hardly a comfortable position, the lack of stable muscle in his body (any beyond the normal acts of living, that was) rendering him a little weaker in that department than he may otherwise have liked.

Well, well, well, John thought, hiding his smirk, though pressing his fingers together before his lips only made it look all the more like he was hiding a secret. Donnie had a good mouth on him in ways that he had not anticipated but the devil in him pushed things on, the video on the computer having run to completion but, well, they weren't focusing at all on that anymore. Things had taken a turn and he wanted to see just what could be done, what could be pushed, standing and sliding down his trousers, baring himself from the waist down.

Donnie jerked back, eyes wide.

“John!"

But his brother was, of course, not to be dissuaded, disrobing entirely and taking his wrist, drawing him up as if it was the most natural thing in the world – so very often, that was the key to getting people to do what he wanted them to – and to the bed. It was a small bed, to be fair, but a single bed could have so many uses in their home, some of which Donnie had heard through the walls with ear buds stuffed into his ears. When he stepped back, hesitating, John paused with him, though he should have known, even then, that he was not a man to be denied.

“Come on," John grinned, though the twinkle in his eyes was solely a dark one. “You don't think you're going to go without too, hm, Small Donnie?"

Donnie's heart turned over. Why did that make him feel like that? Fuck!

“Uh, John," he said, cheeks heating up even more than they already were. “I don't know... I don't think I'm sure about that."

John rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“Oh, what are you on about now? You've already sucked my dick – is that really all you fucking wanted here? Live a little, dear!"

And it seemed that he, willingly, had no choice in the matter, lips on his as he was forcibly borne down to a bed that was not his, eyes open, seeing everything even as the jabbing probe of John's tongue forced his mouth open. He would never have expected that his brother knew how to kiss but it seemed that he knew just where to put his hands too, a touch here, a slide of the fingers there, grinding against the bulge in his jeans. Donnie groaned, need soaking through his underwear, but that still remained to be seen by the only on that matter, other fingers fumbling with his belt, working it loose.

It would come. John would make sure of that.

Somehow, Donnie was stripped naked, blacking out as if he was under the influence of alcohol even though he was still sure he was quite sober. One minute he was clothed and the next his erection was freed, in John's hand as he examined it briefly, seeming clinical in his expression, though that was probably just Donnie's over-active imagination at work, attributing dues to things that simply were not so. John was above him, driving him back but he didn't need to say anything, his brother taking charge so easily that it was as if it well and truly did come naturally to him.

Maybe that was so.

John growled into his brother's mouth, roughly breaking the kiss as he let his passion rule, desire coursing through, pushing the limits of things. What were limits, after all, if there were not meant to be overcome, bypassed one way or the other? His brother rose to meet him as if their bodies were joined together in some other way, pulling back without actually putting any distance between them. Donnie rolled his head back, letting John graze his neck with his teeth, whimpering softly, losing himself in the moment, everything coming to a head as he felt that he could not let it all go, clinging to some sense of reality, something that was linked to his sense of self.

He was his brother...and yet he still wanted it. It was everything he'd ever wanted in sex, the raw passion adding a tantalising edge to it all, making his cock throb and pulse in John's hand. Turgid and wanton, he could not hold back, thrusting into his hand, wanting to grind up from the bed even as he was forced down into a position that could have been defined as submissive if he'd wanted to put a label on it. It didn't matter though, not when everything was already so fucked up and turned upside down between them, gasping for breath, Donnie's head pounding even if he was still not yet willing to give himself anything at all resembling a break.

“Fuck, you're so hard..."

It wasn't something that would have usually come from John's lips unless he was roughly teasing a lover, if that was ever something that could be put into words, but it was right then, in that particular moment. John grasped his brother's cock, caught up in curiosity, squeezing it, letting his hand move, working and pumping, but it didn't take much thought to masturbate someone else. A guy's cock was just like any others, even though his brother's shaft did not come with the throb of pleasure that meant that he was pleasing himself, but his mind was hazy, something else driving him on, though he could not have quite said what. He didn't have to either.

And there was something more he could take – well, Donnie was there and up for it, wasn't he? He wasn't going to take a position that he wasn't comfortable with but, ah, there were tricks up John's sleeve as his naked body teased up against his brother's, straddling his hips, arching back, confidently placing his brother's dick up against his tight hole. It was not something he usually did but, well... John laughed out loud, throwing his head back, the drab grey of the ceiling beckoning him. Who the fuck was Donnie going to tell?

“J-John?"

Donnie shook his head, although he was not saying 'no', just... Just what? He didn't know, fumbling for words, mumbling under his breath, letting John soothe him, only a little, sure that his heart was hammering just as hard. How could it not be? That was just the way it was as he groaned, fighting through the fog, losing track even as John's hand gently pressed down on his throat, more as an accidental place for him to hold than anything else but, still...

He would not, could not, deny how his heart flipped for that, twisting and turning, grinding his stomach up into knots. That pressure... Oh, he could not understand it then but he sank down, submissive even as John teased him with the tip of his cock against his anal ring, the pucker giving ever so slightly as if he was actually going to let him inside. Donnie's head pounded. Was it right? Did that even fucking matter anymore? Oh, he was so apt to letting one thought rule him, repeating itself over and over again in his head!

John pressed down, gauging his reactions, though a part of him had, even then, forgotten that there were consequences to his actions, that things he did there could play back onto him at a later date. Donnie locked eyes with him, though not even he knew what he wanted.

“Come on," he laughed softly, though there was nothing soft about the hard line of his jaw, the dominance shining in his eyes. “You can take it... Or the other way around!"

In the end, it was him that took the initiative – of course, it was John. It was always going to be John but Donnie would not have imagined it to be done in such a way, his brother taking control and bearing down on his throat, watching how his lips parted, hands falling limp on the bed on either side of him. His legs were kicked out but John knew just how to get what he wanted, letting his weight ease his path, his brother's shaft very slowly easing into him, more and more, inch by inch. John grunted but Donnie barely heard it, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as pleasure washed over him. He'd thought he was close to the edge but the shock of the moment, penetrating someone while not feeling like he was in control...that was something else entirely.

And it dragged him on into heightened realms of lust, breath catching, panting and twisting back and forth, only John's hand holding him in place. Everything hinged off that hand closing around his throat, John's groans rising, only notable as he could feel the vibrations trembling through his body. The world dropped away from him, leaving only the two of them there, lust rising, his cock throbbing up deeply, so deeply that he barely even realised that he had already bottomed out within his brother.

Yet... He was not the one in control, regardless of their positions. It was clear, even then, just why John had taken the lead and the top role and, well, it was maybe for the best. Who knew what Donnie would have done with topping him and what that would have even meant for the two of them going forward, their relationship, their family. Yet what even was family when everything was so twisted and broken that it was hardly even at all recognisable even more?

They could make their own version with it and to hell with anything that wasn't in the moment! John snarled and bore down on him, taking him deep, pleasure throbbing up, letting him grind against his prostate. Fuck, yes... Fuck, he needed it, something that he didn't get all that often and he'd be fucked if he'd ever even consider resorting to sex toys! That wasn't for him, not that they'd had the time or the money to buy shit like that before, but a man could be a living sex toy too and be used as such, Donnie playing that part for him as sweat dripped down his body, rolling down light lines of muscle as if it no longer had any right to remain on his form.

At least, that was what he told himself. That would be what let him get over the situation, pass it off as just something that had happened and, still, come back for more with the same excuse in mind.

Whatever let him sleep at night, right?

They hissed through clenched teeth, although it seemed to be getting more and more difficult for Donnie to snatch a breath, chest working, lungs trying to inflate...yet not finding any air in them. Well, only a little but it was not something that his body felt was dire, struggling, fighting back, though he only succeeded in grinding up into his brother, giving John a short, sharp thrust of pleasure that sent his head pounding in the best of ways.

“Fuck..."

John didn't realise what was doing as his cock throbbed back up to full hardness, even with Donnie's cock inside him, which should have made it more difficult – yet it made it easier. The normal laws and rules of what covered biology no longer seemed to apply and he bared his teeth savagely as he groaned open-mouthed, the raw and ragged sound unlike something that he had ever made before, the room tilting around him. The bed was stable though and that was all that mattered to him as he growled and pushed back, driving down, rising and falling, taking his pleasure in the best way possible. If it got him off first, before Donnie, well...

Well... He'd just have to make sure his brother got something of his fun too. He didn't know where that thought had come from but John stuck with it, his body clenching down on Donnie's cock, though he already had more than enough pleasure to handle all on his own. Donnie's lips parted and John watched him as carefully as he felt he was able, losing himself in the moment, skin tingling, electric thrills of pleasure coursing through him as if, even then, he was close to getting off all over again.

The hand on his throat tightened experimentally, John making sure to cement his control over Donnie, moaning, letting him feel the position he was in. He wasn't in charge – John was! And Donnie would do well to remember that, needing to make it clear that he was not going to have a fair chance at evenness in power play, John the one who pinned him down, took what he wanted regardless of who was inside who. Truly, that was the epitome of power, of control, being able to take whatever one wanted even though he was in a place that could, with another cock inside him, typically and traditionally be considered submissive. But that was just what John was there to do – to buck all the trends!

Donnie moaned or, at least, he tried to, lips parting, eyes rolling back. His vision trembled but he didn't think he was really as close to fainting as his frenzied mind thought he was, although something – he couldn't say what – stopped him from fighting back. All he knew was that he was so very close to cumming and that was all he could think about, willing even to fight down the desperate need to breathe in lieu of something all the more exotic, something kinky, something that he had never even considered before, let alone tried to do for himself.

A hand on his throat, cutting off his breath. He panted heavily for no reason, catching air and not oxygen. And, just like that, orgasm rose up on him, throbbing up thick and fast as John jacked off his own cock, spilling a load across his stomach, their seed mixing, mingling, all as if it was meant to be. Some sensations were heightened while others were dulled, blurring lines, lines that were never ever, not even once, meant to be crossed. But what was done was done and there was nought more to be done but howl out their joined lust, Donnie with what little breath he could drag in as John, in the throes of orgasm, loosened his grasp.

And it was there that they would linger, ecstasy teasing out for longer than the actual span of orgasm, panting heavily, not quite looking one another in the eyes. They could not stay there but, well, what did John have to lose as he slumped down into his own bed, letting Donnie's cock ease from him as soon as it softened just a little. That wasn't to stay there after the deed was done and it was his call to make, Donnie letting it happen even though he was not quite with himself, drifting and unable to really make any sort of call either way. Not that that was, in fact, a position that he actively wanted to be in, no... No, he rather liked not having to make decisions when someone else, quite literally, grabbed him by the throat and took charge.

That was what stayed with him as the tiredness in the aftermath, a dose of adrenaline simmering down from the tension of it all, the computer screen still on, dragged him down onto the bed beside John. Blinking sleepily at him, drowsily, John could have pushed him off but, not even then, he could not find it in himself to care that he was sharing a bed with his buck naked brother, nothing in him finding that situation strange at all now that a big barrier between them had come crumbling down. What on earth could be thought to be so fucking weird after all of that? There was nothing more that they could do that would be deemed strange, at the very least, and he merely grunted, turning half away as he flung his arm up and across what he thought was the pillows but was, really, far closer to Donnie than his tired mind knew and understood.

All, however, was meant to be as the darkness took them, sweetly and softly, only to return them, of course, when the light of day and their waking lives beckoned once more. They would not be discovered there and drifting off, at least, meant that Donnie did not have to address what had happened, twisted in confusion and not understanding one bit why he'd allowed everything to go on as he had.

His answer though... His answer had always been “yes". There'd never been any doubt in his mind as to that. But there should have been. There really, really, really should have been a doubt. Yet he could not deny it, for it simply did not exist, and it was that that troubled him in doziness more than anything else. But sleep would take of that for him, at least for the time being.

Sleeping there, for the first time in months, Donnie did not dream, an arm slung across his shoulders, head kicked back on a pillow at a weird angle. Yet only time would tell what more would come to pass and develop between the two of them, along for a ride that neither of them had, truly, signed up for.

Even in his sleep, the pull to one another was irrevocable and irreversible. And they would just have to find a way to live with it.

Or not, as it was.