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Not This Again

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God damn it.

It’s another one of those mornings. Ichimatsu is barely on the cusp of waking up, not entirely sure what’s happening, but he knows the pressure in his pants feels really good. His thighs idly rub together for a few seconds, chasing the pleasant growth of tightness beneath his boxers before he’s truly aware of what’s going on. Reaching up to his own face, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Morning wood.

An exasperated puff of air escapes his mouth as he cranes his neck to the side and looks toward Karamatsu, whose back is to him. When he double checks their alarm clock, content with the fact that it’s near 6 am and the five demons he lives with haven’t decided to push the limits of their fragile bodies by staying up until the sun is, too, he decides he has nothing to lose. He wraps an arm around his older brother’s waist and spoons him from behind.


For a minute, he debates with himself. Keep it innocent and cuddle until his boner fades back down? Or get his big brother to indulge him?

Karamatsu’s gentle breathing, shuffling against him as Ichimatsu presses closer is what tips the scales toward his arousal’s favor. But the fucker beneath his arm is still asleep. God damn it. Ichimatsu wants morning sex; gloriously sleepy, clumsy, clammy morning sex, and he doesn’t even care that everyone else is there. But he gets an idea.

He snakes his hand lower, down Karamatsu’s stomach (nice muscles), slides it into his waistband (his happy trail is cute, too), glides his fingers across that last patch of fluffy hair until… bingo.

Karamatsu doesn’t wake up immediately, so Ichimatsu smirks. He indulges himself, Karamatsu’s sleeping body putty in his hands. Quiet snores turn into flustered, sleep-induced moans under his big brother’s breath. Ichimatsu’s eyelids lower lustfully as he watches the show of Karamatsu’s changing expressions from over his shoulder: his eyebrows furrow and his eyes twitch, mouth biting at his lips while his half-unconscious body lets itself make such noises. Ichimatsu grips him closer, grinding against Karamatsu’s ass because god damn is he hard.

Those moans of his grow more coherent as sleep leaves Karamatsu’s body and he opens an eye, feeling a foreign, wet warmth around his dick. It feels good but… how? Why? He peeks down and sees that lump under the cloth of his pants, and then he realizes that pressure from behind him isn’t just an all-too-real wet dream.

Confusion, chased shortly by a wave of arousal, washes over him while he wakes up. He attempts to get his little brother’s attention. “Nnh, Ichi… mah-ah…” Ichimatsu’s lips on the crook of his shoulder silence him.

“Shut up, Kusomatsu,” he says, words quietly muffled between his teeth and Karamatsu’s skin. “I wanna fuck you.”

Straight to the point.

Karamatsu gulps at the abrupt words, bottom lip assaulted by the turned-on grit of his own teeth while his eyebrows furrow, body tensing and rolling under Ichimatsu’s touch. When his little brother is done palming at his growing erection, limp dick hardening beneath his fingers, Ichimatsu loops his index fingers into the waistband of Karamatsu’s pants. He pulls them around back and then slides the elastic down over Karamatsu’s cheeks, quickly doing the same for himself and his twitching dick.

He sighs hotly on Karamatsu’s ear, happy for the skin-on-skin contact. Grinding against him this way, quietly and forbiddenly engaging in such disgusting activity is heaven on Ichimatsu’s erection. He missed Karamatsu. It’s been a while and honestly… now probably isn’t the best time. But the four sleeping bodies in the room are the last thing on either brother’s mind. Ichimatsu is good at pretending he’s asleep with a rock-hard cock between he and his boy toy, anyway.

Karamatsu is lucky that his little brother feels nice today. Ichimatsu shuffles the bunched-up fabric of Karamatsu’s pants down further to his knees so that he can prop up one of his thighs. Two of Ichimatsu’s fingers enter his own teeming mouth, coating them with his revolting spit. The lube is too far away and the shuffling would be too loud… but it’ll do. His fingers leave with a quiet smack as he reaches down and preps Karamatsu, pushing inside gently.

The second-eldest brother has had more than enough practice to at least channel the moaning he wants to do into (mostly) silent pants, but mmmmmfuck if Ichimatsu isn’t an expert on all his hot spots. He curls his back when Ichimatsu shoves his free hand underneath his body, reaching forward and palming at Karamatsu’s hard-on again. Mouth busy with teasing Karamatsu’s neck, he tightens his grip.

“You want it, too,” he says, voice a quiet hush dripping in arousal, “don’t you, nii-san?” Karamatsu suddenly wishes they were alone in a hotel room, fucking loudly on a heart-shaped bed all to themselves. Why does Ichimatsu always do this to him.

But still, he nods.

Ichimatsu’s sharp teeth poke out beneath his open, crooked smirk. “Good,” he says, harshly gripping Karamatsu by the hips and forcing his dick inside of him with one push. It’s not like he really wants to get caught… but blaming it on Karamatsu, punishing him for it later if they were discovered… the idea is too good.

His big brother struggles to keep quiet, throat choking down the loud and aroused noises of shock and pleasure that he wants to yelp out… but he manages, and this time Ichimatsu doesn’t even have to cover his mouth. He rewards him by massaging his plump behind in tender circles with his thumbs while he ruts into him, slowly.

Ichimatsu’s face, only since Karamatsu can’t see him, morphs from a sick, domineering grin into a softer look of actual enjoyment. He presses his forehead into the back of Karamatsu’s skull, who’s taken it upon himself to twist his face down into his pillow to maintain the silence.

“God, that feels good,” Ichimatsu whispers, body moving at a slow tempo behind him. “Fuck, Karamatsu… it’s so good.” Karamatsu’s heart stutters at his name. It was so beautiful when it roughly spilled out of Ichimatsu’s love-drunk mouth, hoarse with arousal. He drinks it in, grip on his pillow tightening. Ichimatsu feels good inside him, too.

They both know they don’t have much time before everyone in the house starts waking up, so Ichimatsu quickens his pace the best that he can without the telltale skin-on-skin slapping sound making their illicit actions too obvious, giving them away. Ha.

Ichimatsu slides his hand up and grabs Karamatsu’s chin, forcing him to turn his head from the confines of his pillow. He presses two fingers past his teeth, holds the corner of his mouth open while curls them into his tongue and finishes up. “You’re so gross…” Ichimatsu whispers, knowing Karamatsu loves every minute of it. “I don’t even need to touch you for you to finish, huh?”

Karamatsu’s tongue glides over the fingers in his mouth in response. Of course he doesn’t; not with Ichimatsu expertly hitting his prostate just right, saying all the right things, hands burning at his skin while he grips at him. Karamatsu idly wonders (and hopes, sort of) for some marks left behind later… Something deep within him yearns for Ichimatsu’s possessive, purple bruises all over his body.

Ichimatsu’s fingers burn under Karamatsu’s teeth as he bites down, coming. It isn’t too painful… but it’s just enough to send that final jolt up Ichimatsu’s dick and straight into Karamatsu.


He forgot about the… aftermath. He freezes, riding out the last euphoric moment before pulling out slowly. Luckily, there’s no icky squelching or popping sounds… this time. Regardless, Ichimatsu slides Karamatsu’s pants up for him, quickly, forcing his poor big brother to deal with whatever ridicule may or may not come (HA) all by himself. Karamatsu pants and Ichimatsu wipes his hand somewhere on the futon beneath him.

“Good luck, Kusomatsu,” Ichimatsu’s wicked voice teases, swiftly rolling over before one of his other brothers bends up from the floor, rubbing an eye. Leaving Karamatsu to lay in front of the proverbial oncoming bus as Karamatsu stifles his breathing, trying not to move too much… it’s not the first time Ichimatsu’s done this. And it probably won’t be the last. Karamatsu points his chin over his shoulder, a hushed scolding thrown behind him before they can reach anyone else’s ears.

“You suck.”

Hopefully he can at least get to the bathroom first this morning.