You get back to find dinner on the table. A proper plate, knife and fork made of metal not plastic, a glass of iced water to deal with the June heat. Early summer, and Houston is already 110% humidity and hot as Satan's asshole. You swear you're moving up north for college.
Dinner is take out, which is fair enough: you don't want any cooking going on here unless you're around to supervise. The taste of General Tso's chicken is the taste of your childhood. You wash up when you're done: the kitchen is a lot better than it has been, but dirty dishes in the sink have always been verboten in this household.
Dishes drying in the rack, you push open the door to your room, no longer directly off the kitchen, and find Bro on your floor. You got that fake wood flooring in your room so you could fuck about with formaldehyde without fear of staining the carpet, but the rug next to your bed serves a twin purpose: it keeps your feet warm in the morning and it saves Bro's knees. Of the latter Bro is, of course, ignorant: as far as he knows, it's only a convenient coincidence. You're not going to tell him different.
He kneels on the rug, head bowed, arms behind his back. He's still dressed, but has removed his silly cap. His feet are bare; he has excellent muscle control, but still the curl of his toes betrays him. Dirk is the same.
You haven't decided yet whether you'll make him take his clothes off. You don't always, don't want to be too predictable, but you like looking at him naked. Say what you like about his personality - and you do - but to anyone but the most dedicated and exclusive connoisseur of the female form, your bro is hot.
But the shades always come off. It's obvious symbolism, but that's what makes it so effective. Furthermore, he has to take them off himself: he has to give them up willingly, to you. He told you several months ago that Cal was the only person he'd taken his shades off around; you called him an idiot and demanded he take them off right there and then, and when he did you took a picture and sent it to Rose so she could see what her genetic father actually looked like without ridiculous sunglasses. Turns out they have the same eye shape.
You hold out your hand. He takes them off, folds them, and puts them in your fingers. You put them safely in your sylladex and wait for him to look you in the eye. It takes him a moment, but he obediently raises his chin and lets you get a good look at his face.
It's not quite like looking into a mirror, but the family resemblance is obvious: same sharp jaw, same sharp nose, though you got Roxy's fuller mouth. His eyes aren't just brown that looks amber when the light hits it right, but proper fiery orange, exactly the colour of Dirk's text. That plus the long, pointy nose makes you think of birds of prey.
You get your fingers under his chin and feel the steady pulse beating under his jaw. He keeps his eyes on your face and lets his mouth fall slightly open. He must be strung tight as piano wire right now, but he looks totally peaceful, just waiting for you to tell him what to do, or slap him across the face. For someone else that might be a punishment, but he likes it too much.
He's been very good today - no new shuriken holes in the walls and dinner on the table like a proper guardian - so you want to do something that will gratify both of you. Luckily, that's not hard.
You pull at the collar of his shirt; he takes it off. Looking at him on the street, you'd probably expect him to have at least one tattoo and maybe a nipple piercing, but he just has faded silver scars all over his torso from - whoever taught him to use a sword and practised with him before you came along, you guess. You haven't asked yet. Like you, he's fair and has freckles on his nose and shoulders; but unlike you, he tans, so his face and arms are a touch browner than his pale chest - from the few times he hasn't put on sun block, because his vanity resents both sunburn and tan lines.
Bro puts his hands back on the floor and waits. You admire him for a moment, his musculature developed from swinging a sword and hauling DJ equipment around. He can break, too, though he never managed to teach you. Maybe you'll ask him to try again some time.
Then you give him what he's been waiting for. You bend down to kiss him, tipping his chin up with your fingers. His mouth opens easily under yours, pliable and willing. He just wants to be good for you. He wants to be good for anyone - it's what comes of being abruptly torn away from his precious mind-controlling puppet and having to fill in the resultant holes in his brain - but he particularly wants to be good for you.
He said, how can I make it up to you? And you, burning with frustrated anger and resentment, said, like this, and pushed him down onto his knees.
It's easy to be cruel to him, easy to make him feel bad, as bad as you felt back then when you couldn't ever be good enough. But cruelty loses its appeal rapidly for you, who are not a natural sadist. You like to give him opportunities to be better. How can I make it up to you? Like this. And so he gets food for you and sets it out nice and hugs you when you ask, and tries to do it right this time.
He took to sucking your cock so easily that you sometimes wonder whether he wanted to do it before the Game. You don't ask: you wouldn't like either answer.
You take off your shades and captchalogue them.This is Bro's reward: if you make him take off his shades but keep yours on, you're telling him you don't intend to be kind. You'd just tell him in words, but Bro doesn't like too much talk and you're shit at saying it out loud when it matters.
When you open your jeans and take out your cock, Bro brings his head forward to meet it and opens his mouth to let the head slide in. He closes his eyes in pleasure, then opens them again to look up at your face. You slide your fingers into his hair, stiff with gel, and scritch gently at his scalp. You don't need to pull: he always knows you could.
He rubs his tongue just under the crown, and you shudder. It always thrills you to think that he's never done this to anyone else: Cal would have been upset, Bro told you - though apparently puppet smut was just fine. It's made you understand viscerally why everybody's so hot for virgins. He has so much of you, all your childhood devoted to him, before you can even remember - but you have his virginity, and he can't take that back. It gives you a petty thrill of satisfaction that he doesn't have yours in exchange.
He takes your dick all the way in easily, just like he did the first time, deep-throating like a natural. When you first tried it you nearly choked yourself, not that Bro will ever know that. But then, you don't love sucking dick like Bro loves sucking dick. Sure, you like it just fine, but every time Bro closes his eyes and goes for it with the kind of enthusiasm you always assumed they faked in porn.
His throat flutters around you as he swallows, and you tighten your grip in his hair. His mouth is hot and eager to please, and it makes you take short little breaths through your nose, hot liquid pleasure spreading through your abdomen.
You pull him off slowly, forcing his head back until all you can feel is the edge of his lip and his hot breath on your wet dick. He opens his eyes to look at you, mouth pink and open, holding himself so still, so good, just like you've told him before.
You stop tugging his hair, and immediately he goes back to giving you head. He bobs back and forth, sucking at the head as he comes up, rubbing his tongue along the underside. Of course Bro wouldn't be satisfied with being decent at giving head, or even just good: you know he's read about this shit and practised it on any phallic object available - in this house there's a lot of options - so he can suck dick like he does it for a living. But just for you.
The sweet jolts of pleasure in your abdomen get stronger, better; you feel tension gathering into an aching knot. You pull Bro off your dick again, breathing fast, on the edge of moaning. Sure, you've got basically no refractory period, but to deny Bro you have to deny yourself too.
You nudge at the top of Bro's pants with your toe. You enjoy watching him decide whether he's going to get up to take them off or try to do it on his knees. After a second, he gets up gracefully: more dignified that way, and in his own weird way your Bro is all about dignity.
He's still got a couple of inches on you in height, and is much broader in the shoulder: you've been a bit over six feet for the past two years, and even at the peak of physical fitness have always been built like a bag of coat hangers. You noticed when you met Bro again that, after being a head shorter at thirteen, at sixteen you were nearly eye-to-eye, and it weirded you out. It's comforting to know that he'll always be bigger than you.
He takes off his pants without fuss and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear. You nod, and he takes them off too. He has an erection, of course: sucking you off always makes him hard. Looking at his dick too long makes you feel obscurely embarrassed, so you look him up and down, finding familiar scar-patterns when they catch the light. He keeps watching you the whole time. Fuck, he's built like a god.
You're sorely tempted to push him back down to his knees and have him finish you off, like he obviously wants. But you're not here to give him what he wants any more.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him, pressing yourself against him in a passionate clinch; he completes it by putting his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, opening his mouth for you to trail your tongue against his. Pressed tight to his warm, solid body, enfolded in his embrace, you could really believe that this is a romance. Shame about the genetic father, raised-you-from-an-infant-and-fucked-you-up thing. Just the metallic rattle of pans makes you feel a little weird, some days.
You take hold of his shoulders and push him backwards until he lets you topple him onto your bed. It's a sore point with you that he can pick you up and carry you if he wants (or if you want), but you can't get him off the ground. He lets you manhandle him in compensation.
You climb off him and take off your clothes. You don't do it sexily, you just undress like anyone would, but you can feel Bro's eyes on your stomach as you stretch upwards to pull off your t-shirt and then your ass when you turn around to get your jeans off, conveniently thrusting it in his face. You don't think there's anything particularly special about your ass - it is, like the rest of you, pale and kind of bony - but Dirk had all but rhapsodised about it and Bro cops a feel of it every chance he gets, and you like feeling appreciated.
Bro fits neatly between your thighs when you crawl back on top of him. You can feel his stomach rise and fall underneath you with his breath. You shoved him onto the bed at an angle, but he hasn't moved to make his head comfortable on the pillows, he's just lying there on the diagonal. Well, at least it means his feet don't hang off the end.
You lean in to kiss him again. Your dick bumps against his stomach, but it's not urgent. You like kissing Bro. You like the way he puts his arms around you and holds you very tight, like you're precious to him. He's so careful with you these days.
Bro opens his mouth and you kiss him luxuriously, tangling your fingers in his hair, close to his scalp. The gel makes it feel kind of weird, but you've gotten used to it. It feels good to mess it up, and better that Bro lets you. You used to feel so satisfied if even a lock of hair fell out of place or his shades slipped a fraction: now you can mess him up however you want, and he'll take it and like it.
You could do this for an hour, if you wanted: kissing and cuddling, enjoying the feeling of your brother's naked skin against yours. Bro wouldn't complain. You might try it sometime when you have nothing else to do.
You worm a hand between him and the bed and sweep it up and down his back: still so soft, for a man approaching forty. It had surprised you, when you first touched Dirk, how soft the skin of his back was, but with Bro you forgot to be surprised until later.
You turn your hand into a claw and rake your fingers down his back. He shudders. He's so solid in your arms, so warm: the reality of another human being naked in bed with you is still extraordinary.
Suddenly, you're hot for it. You take back your arm, brace yourself over him and take hold of his dick. It fits just right in your hand. The weirdest part of this has always been how natural it feels.
You feel Bro's steady breath on your face as you slowly jerk him off. His eyes keep trying to close, and a muscle in his abdomen occasionally tenses. You take your time, enjoying the feel of his dick in your hand, the slide of velvety foreskin over the shaft.
When you reach over to the night stand, his eyes follow your hand as you pick up the lube. His mouth opens just a bit.
You tease him for a moment, drawing out the process of smearing lube on your fingers. You know he's wondering whether you're going to go for his cock or his ass.
He spreads his legs a little more, as if encouraging you to go for his ass. Just to be contrary, you take hold of his cock and lube it up.
You don't bother prepping yourself beyond a cursory smear of lube to prevent chafing. You just scoot up the bed a little, get up on your knees, and guide his dick so the tip rests against your asshole. Then you sit down.
You have to take it slowly, but that's good: you savour the sweet burn as you force yourself open on Bro's cock. You watch Bro's lips compress and go bloodless-white as you sink down on his dick.
The head pops in and it feels huge inside you, as if you can't fit another inch, as if it's filling you up all the way up to your stomach - but, breathing heavily, you let gravity push yet more of it inside you until you're sitting on Bro's pelvis, the whole thing huge and hot inside you. You swear you can feel Bro's heartbeat.
Bro stays perfectly still as you rock a little in place, testing your limits. You stare into his eyes, daring him to look away: he doesn't. The cock inside you presses against your prostate whenever you move, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.
You set up a slow, grinding rhythm, circling your hips so Bro's cock shifts just right inside you. It must be pretty unsatisfying for Bro, but he just takes deep, steady breaths. You'd think he didn't care if you couldn't feel his hard cock twitching inside you, the huge pressure throbbing.
You lean back a bit, get your hands on the headboard for leverage, and start raising and lowering yourself, just a little, so Bro's cock slides in and out of you and rubs your insides. Each time it's a struggle to get the whole thing back in, but you let gravity drive you down and impale you again. You can feel your ass clenching spasmodically around it.
Your dick is stiff, bouncing between your legs as you ride Bro a little faster, but you don't touch it. You just work yourself up and down Bro's dick, watching the muscles around his mouth twitch like he's trying not to breathe any faster or make any noise. He knows the game. His eyes keep trying to flutter shut.
Abruptly, you slap him.
He groans, his hands coming up - and then he lowers them back to the bed, useless. You feel Bro's cock move inside you and press down, right down to get it deeper, making it scrape across your prostate and send lightning shooting up your spine.
You rake your nails across his abs and he tries to curl up, hands fisted in the bed covers. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open. You like that, so you claw at his chest too, and watch him shudder beneath you, hips rolling up into yours.
Enough teasing. You put your hands on the headboard again and ride him hard, legs working to lift you up off Bro's cock and drop you back down. Bro lets out tiny low noises when you fully impale yourself on his hard dick, which is like throbbing steel inside you. Your ass smacks against his pelvis and you feel his pre-come making your asshole wet.
You take one hand off the headboard and grab your own dick, which is practically dripping by now, and start jerking off.
Bro lets you use him, rolling your hips and grinding your ass on him like a sex toy. You lean back to get the perfect angle, his thick cock pressing up against your prostate just right, rubbing against it with every little stroke so it feels like your dick is being stroked from the inside. You move faster, rocking back and forth on top of Bro. He takes fast breaths through his nose, and you enjoy listening to him trying to hold back.
You don't jerk your dick too fast: you haven't finished teasing Bro yet. All you have to do, you told him, is lie there. You just have to stay still.
He's being good. You'll have to think of something to reward him with.
You raise yourself a few inches, using the headboard as leverage, then jam yourself back down. It's getting easier for Bro's dick to slip all the way into you, opening you up. It's stopped aching when you sit all the way down, and the friction just feels really good, pleasure pulsing in a knot at the base of your dick.
You keep at it, watching Bro's face as you get into it, making the bed squeak. You like it: it sounds dirty. You ride Bro harder, faster, and watch all the muscles around his mouth go tight. You know he wants to grab your hips and thrust, like you've let him do before, but he's not earned that yet.
Finally, you let yourself go. You power up and down, flexing your thighs so much they'll hurt tomorrow, riding Bro's dick just how you like it, like you'd fuck yourself with a dildo, jacking your own dick fast and hard, all that pleasure coalescing into a heavy writhing knot in your abdomen. Your eyes keep trying to close, but you keep them open: you like watching Bro's face twist as he tries to keep his composure while you're using him.
You jerk your dick a few more times and feel your muscles spasming and locking up with helpless, overwhelming pleasure as you come, head dropping to your chest. Your knees give out and you sit down hard on Bro's dick, and it feels like the thick hard length is forcing the come out of you in spurts, spattering on Bro's stomach.
You have to just sit there a moment to catch your breath. Bro's dick is back to feeling huge inside you again; you squeeze your ass around him, enjoying the fact that you've just got off and he's still rock hard, and watch a muscle in his stomach jump.
He's been so good. He deserves his reward.
"What are you waiting for?" you ask.
The first time you tried this trick, you fully expected to blink and find yourself on your back with your legs up over Bro's shoulders, being reamed like a cheerleader on prom night. Bro had never let you think you were in control for long.
Instead, Bro did exactly what he does now: he reaches up to your shoulders and pulls your mouth down to his.
It's a good kiss, like always. Bro's tongue sweeps through your mouth without timidity, but not like he's trying to eat your face, either. He bites gently at your bottom lip and twists your tongues together. He puts one hand on your face, cupping your cheek.
You get a hand under him to rake your nails down his back again. He shudders, and you can feel his cock jerk inside you. His grip squeezes your shoulder, then begins to stroke your back lightly, feeling you out. You can feel the roughness of his calluses against your skin, the breadth of his hands.
You pull your mouth away from his, lower it to his neck, and bite down hard, just shy of breaking the skin.
Bro moans. His hips roll up: he's allowed to do that now, but you like the idea that he just can't stop himself, that you've driven him wild and now he's helpless underneath you, forced into submission by his body's desires, helpless and needy.
He cups the back of your head in one hand, and you know what's going to happen the second before he rolls you over onto your back - somehow without dislodging his cock from your ass. He rests his weight on top of you, and goes back to kissing you slowly. His body covers you without smothering.
It's a weird contrast: you can feel his dick inside you hard and throbbing - it seriously feels like he's going to go off any minute - but he won't do anything without first making a thorough exploration of your mouth with his tongue.
You pull your legs up and dig your heels into his ass like you'd spur on a horse. You feel it flex underneath your feet.
"Come on," you whisper. Finally, he does.
His mouth goes slack and inattentive as he starts to move in long, undulating thrusts. You don't have the patience for that kind of thing, no matter how good it feels, but this whole thing is a long drawn-out tease and it drives Bro wild, so it's not surprising that every time he takes it slow, as if he's trying to enjoy it all piece by piece. As if he isn't sure he'll get another chance.
If you mess this up, you'd said, that's it. This is your second chance. Bro took it to heart.
He drives his cock into you steadily, rocking your body slowly back and forth. Lots of guys don't like being fucked when they've just come, but you love it. Your fingertips are tingling, and sweet little sparks occasionally race up your spine. You can fully enjoy the feeling of being filled up.
Bro brings up one hand to cup your head, then tangle in your hair. It's very - tender. His mouth drops away from yours as he tucks his face into your neck. You feel his hot damp breath on your pulse. Of all the things that Bro might like, you hadn't expected gentle love-making to top the list.
Shows how well you knew him, doesn't it?
His thrusts speed up: he's got incredible endurance, because of course he has, but his dick feels so huge and hard within you that you're amazed he hasn't come already. You can feel the effort it's taking him to hold off: he enjoys self-denial to the point of masochism.
Speaking of - you reach up and rake your fingernails down his back again. He jerks and moans into your neck, so you do it again. He thrusts into you roughly, and you wriggle your hips to encourage him. He's been good, so he gets to come.
You dig your heels into his ass and your fingers into his shoulders, and finally he starts humping you properly, making the bed shake again and squeak. You just hang on as he works his hips, thrusting into you again and again, sweet rough drag against your inner walls.
You dig your nails into his ass and pull upwards, and finally, finally he gasps wetly into your neck and stiffens. His hips jerk uncontrolled a few times, his whole body tense and quivering, as he floods your ass with come - and then all the tension goes out of him and you take a little more of his weight.
He makes as if to roll off you, but you hold him in place. He's heavy, but it's fine for now. Little aftershocks run through him, and you rub your thumbs in circles on his heaving back. You're pretty sure he's drooled on your shoulder.
"You were good," you say quietly, and slowly raise a hand to stroke his hair. You remember him doing this for you, when you were a small child - or did you dream it? You feel the rise and fall of his ribcage against yours.
Bro doesn't take his face out of your neck, but he presses a tiny kiss in the dip above your collarbone. His body is warm and strong and vital against yours.
You unhook your legs from his after a few tries - your knees don't work right yet - and let him slide off to one side. You can feel come dribbling out of your ass, which still feels weird; but it would feel weirder to use condoms. You want Bro's come inside you.
Bro mouths idly at your collarbone. All you can see is his hair - particularly where it's been squashed flat at the back. You wind your fingers in it to pull him back, so you can see his face.
Up close, you can see that his eyes are drowsy and have just a touch of pink around the eyelids. He squeezes out a few tears, sometimes, when it's really intense, though usually you have to shove a vibrator up his ass to get him to that point. It's the most power you've ever had over anybody.
You bend your neck to kiss him - it's kind of an awkward angle, but whatever. His mouth falls open easily under yours, and he winds his arms tighter around you. It keeps on amazing you that after years of fighting for his attention, treasuring every scrap, Bro now comes seeking your approval, your love - anything you give him, he'll take because you gave it to him.
He's yours now. Forever.
You dig your nails briefly into the back of his neck to feel him take a sharp breath, try to prolong the sweet blunt pain. He likes to be hit, to be slapped, but he likes the sting of your nails more. You once had him on all fours on the living room rug with a vibrator up his ass while you raked your nails up and down his back, his ass, his chest, and it drove him so wild that he came without anything touching his cock, hips uselessly fucking the air. It was so hot that you nearly did the same.
You gentle the touch of your mouth to his and go back to petting his hair slowly, feeling the gel in it. You'd never tell him, but you kind of like how vain he is. An ordinary human foible for a man who's so far from ordinary that he can't even pretend. You bite gently at his lower lip and feel his fingers twitch, just a little.
Bro reaches up to take hold of your shoulder. You let him slide his hand down your arm, like he's feeling you up, to take gentle hold of your fingers. Your hand isn't that much smaller than his these days, but his careful touch makes it feel like a dainty maiden's in a bear's paw.
Then he breaks away from the kiss - gently, so gently parting your mouths - so he can raise your hand to his lips. His eyes are closed. You watch him press kisses to your knuckles, one by one; to the back of your hand; to your fingertips, which have nearly lost their sword-calluses; to the centre of your palm; to the fleshy pad of your thumb. He worships your hand with his mouth. It's not remotely ironic.
Bro doesn't speak much, but he communicates with you just fine. You always know what his body is saying. You slide your hand deeper into his hair, cradle his skull in your palm. Now you know why trolls described love as 'romantic pity'.
"Yeah," you say, "you too, Bro."