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In retrospect N’Jobu should have realized what was going on sooner.
He had been on his way back from a regional meeting when he’d passed by the one of the various building level conference rooms. Technically there was no reason he should have stopped but he had been multitasking on his kimoyo beads and waiting for a document to load. So he had stopped for a few moments to stare at his kimoyo display, and save what would undoubtedly be another long winded plea for minor monopoly in the upcoming delegation.
Then he hears a sound, soft and almost undetectable. He turns casually towards the door of the room where the sound had come from. The door is slightly ajar and the light inside it turned off. The room was a public room, for meetings or conferences to be used by the localities on this level of the building or quiet space when the more communal areas were at capacity.
N’Jobu is about to continue walking when he hears a sound again–from the dark room.
Different pitch and a little louder. So, was someone in the room?
Feeling curious he looks up the room assignments chart to the side of the door. No one had reserved it this afternoon, so no one should be in the room. On a whim he pushes the door open and is greeted by darkness and suspicious silence. He is about to turn on the lights in the room with his own kimoyo beads, when a flash of metal in the corner of his vision stops him.
N’Jobu wishes almost immediately upon getting a good look at the room’s inhabitants that he hadn’t tarried on his way to his wings. He and T’Chaka had certainly had their share of unwise location choices but at least they’d never done it in a public conference room! Even as he thinks it he realizes the inherent hypocrisy. No he and his husband had just done it in the throne room, the KingsGuard lobby, the balcony to the Kings’ suite and–fine they were just as bad.
Now careful to avoid catching any more glimpses of his son and his nephew mid-fuck, he says, “If you insist on doing such things in public places, please reserve the room and lock It first.”
His words are greeted by silence, and then– a laugh. N’Jadaka, of course. His son was incorrigible. T’Challa had looked absolutely mortified when he realized who’d just walked into the room. N’Jobu knows his son is probably sporting one of those wolffish grins that makes N’Jobu want to spank him regardless of his age and reminds N’Jobu damnably of T’Chaka.
“Hey dad.” N’Jadaka sounds perfectly conversational.
N’Jobu wants to melt into the floor, rewind time. He settles for reserving the room so no one else came investigating the ‘odd’ noise. Then leaves as quickly as he entered, mind buzzing with second hand embarrassment. From what he remembered of young love and libido some extra embarrassment wouldn’t slow down things too much.
Later when he talks with Lisa, his wife and N’Jadaka’s own mother; he doesn’t mention walking in on their son and nephew having sex in public. Mostly because Lisa of all people would point back at him. Having walked in on T’Chaka and him before in non-private settings.
N’Jadaka is supposed to be doing a survey with the mining tribe, and T’Challa finishing a country-wide tour before leaving for a foreign one. Which he supposed explained why the two, who had perhaps not been alone in weeks or more separated by their own duties, would consider using a public conference room for things best left to the bedroom.
Still, the idea of his son and his nephew sticks with him. The two had been together for a while now. Their relationship foretold in destiny charts that had revealed N’Jadaka’s existence to Wakanda and changed N’Jobu’s own plans drastically. Lisa, T’Chaka, Ramonda and he have had years to get used to the idea of the two being together.
But it was one thing to know intellectually that his son was involved with T’Challa and another to walk in on the two being… involved.
Maybe it was because of how much T’Challa looked like T’Chaka? Admittedly with Ramonda’s eyes and facial tics. The two had certainly created a beautiful man, and now N’Jobu knew what he looked like under. N’Jadaka. Really he could have done his whole life without the visuals. Or the odder thoughts the two of them were now currently inspiring.
T’Challa was the older of the two, a very self assured young man. He led N’Jadaka very easily as far as N’Jobu could see. This being both amusing and reassuring to see how taken N’Jadaka was with T’Challa and vice-versa. In that respect T’Challa was very much like his father though he carried a diplomatic warmth that was all Ramonda.
N’Jobu had assumed – in the rare and brief moment when he considered their relationship beyond cute outings and silly pictures – that same dynamic would carry itself into the bedroom. The idea of that not being the case is interesting. They’d both seemed to be enjoying themselves anyway. Before they realized they were no longer alone.
Later in the week when T’Chaka comes to see him he’s still thinking about it. Albeit much less with the influx of work and other happenings within the division. T’Chaka picks up on his mood and after some general probing, N’Jobu tells him about what had happened earlier in the week.
T’Chaka is unsympathetically amused. N’Jobu almost regrets sharing with his older brother and lover.
“It is really not that funny.” N’Jobu doesn’t want to be irritated with T’Chaka. He hasn’t seen his brother in some days and he had missed him. However the man’s amusement at his cyclical wondering were not helpful.
T’Chaka after another laugh finally says, “We were much worse N’Jo.”
N’Jobu rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it. He had not claimed any high ground here. The first time he and his brother fucked upon his return to Wakanda had been in the throne room with Dora standing mere feet away and at the room’s door.
No that wasn’t what was making him turn the idea of their two children being intimate over and over in his head. No, it was simply the dynamic.
T’Chaka’s response is simple. “They’re not like us.”
Making N’Jobu snort. “I thank Bast every day for giving your son better sense, T’Chaka. That’s not my point.”
T’Chaka smiles and rubs hand on N’Jobu’s thigh. Momentarily distracting the younger man’s train of thought. “I’m just surprised. N’Jadaka was very–” He struggles to find the words.
He settles finally on, “demanding.”
Which was one way to describe the position the two had been in, the way N’Jadaka had gripped T’Challa’s thighs, held him in place. It was just more, forceful/domineering than N’Jobu would have thought someone like T’Challa would allow.
“Like his father?” N’Jobu can hear the teasing in T’Chaka’s voice. But he knows T’Chaka hasn’t understood yet. Most likely because he had the same opinion on T’Challa as N’Jobu had; before walking in on the two of them. Yes of course one interaction viewed for less than 15 seconds couldn’t be used to characterize a whole relationship but N’Jadaka had seemed pretty comfortable. On top of T’Challa, very confident too. Bast his son’s confidence was something that never ceased to amaze N’Jobu.
“No. It was was different T’Chaka, reversed.” Once he settles on the word ‘reversed’ he sees how much it fits. Without being too lurid or filthy a description of what he had seen a few days prior. T’Chaka finally seems to catch his meaning and asks him, hand drawing patterns on N’Jobu’s skin: “How?”
"N'Jadaka had–" he didn't know how to make T'Chaka understand without saying too much, he didn't want to describe the compromising position in which he saw his son and nephew. It was enough to see it in his head for more than a day , "--the situation well in hand".
T'Chaka’s hand stills, expectant that N'Jobu to continue.
N'Jobu looks away, "When I entered the room, N'Jadaka–" He couldn't bring himself to say ‘my son’ and a sexual activity in the same sentence – "had your son steadied under him in a position that he couldn't get out of– and very open to–receive–what N'Jadaka was doing."
Bast this was awkward, he hoped that description would be enough for T'Chaka. T’Chaka’s expression changes into a very familiar and lascivious grin. “Really?”
"Yes, really. It wasn’t something that I was expecting." Not that N’Jobu spent that much time thinking about such things.
"We used to do those kind of positions in our youth, only somewhat differently." N'Jobu's voice is soft and reminiscent, flashes of the scene he had walked on playing before his eyes.
N'Jobu buries his head in T'Chaka's chest.
" T'Chaka, no more questions, I do not want to think of what happened yesterday anymore, or what our sons are doing behind not-so-closed doors"
“I’m curious now, N’Jo.” T’Chaka hadn’t given much thought to this prior to N’Jobu’s revelation but now that he was thinking about it, he was curious. N’Jadaka was a overachieving brat usually whose saving grace was his devotion to T’Challa. If he was taking the liberties N’Jobu was so tastefully implying. It explained a few of the odder interactions he has seen between the two.
"If you are so curious about what our sons are up to, you could ask yours." N'Jobu turns his head to be better heard. "I'm sure he'll be glad to tell you all the details." N’Jobu was being sarcastic.
T’Chaka reaches casually to run a hand through N’Jobu’s hair. Then he pitches his voice a bit lower. “On a scale of our time at the suites on Lake Kivu and our…reunion in the throne room. How forceful was he?”
N'Jobu makes a dissatisfied noise, but still answers. "Closer to our reunion, from what I could see."
T’Chaka nods, expecting as much. Their sons had certainly had ample time to explore. N’Jobu wouldn’t be so bothered if it hadn’t been so unexpected.
“The positioning was less than considerate I’m guessing?” T’Chaka had very fond memories of the type of position N’Jobu had probably walked in on.
"Your son didn't seem to dislike it." N'Jobu tone is contemplative now.
It also reminds T'Chaka vividly of times where they would fuck everywhere, anytime they wanted, in every position. They hadn't been so wild in a few years, if their sons could do it, he wanted it too. The need feels like an ache.
T'Chaka's hand grows rougher in N'Jobu's hair as the other settles on his hip.
"Did he like it as much as you did when I fucked you in the garden under the intelligence tower?" T’Chaka tops the indecent question with a kiss to N'Jobu temple.
N’Jobu goes still, that evening had been–he had honestly forgotten about that. He couldn’t even remember the no doubt heated conversation that had started the whole mess. But T’Chaka doesn’t stop there.
"Do you want to try what they were doing?" N'Jobu can feel the vibration of T'Chaka's voice against his chest. T'Chaka doesn’t wait for a response, hands already busy unfastening N'Jobu's pants.
“I am not sure.” N’Jobu is lying through his teeth, but also considering his poor back. The position hadn’t looked at all kind to T’Challa. He was past the age of allowing their libido leave his entire body aching.
"Must have felt so good for T'Challa, I know you loved those kinds of position." T'Chaka tugs on N'Jobu's pants to open it wide. Then T'Chaka rolls on top of him,in a bruising kiss.
When he pulls back he says, "Tell me more about how they were."
N’Jobu realizes where this is going and has half the mind to put a stop to it. They were not going to make love in some twisted attempt to emulate their sons. T’Chaka, as if reading his mind, stills. He tells him with annoying understanding, “We did it first, didn’t we?”
N’Jobu’s righteous anger deflates. They’d done a lot of things in their time together. A fair bit N’Jobu had done his best to forget. Like that time in the garden.
“I have to sit down tomorrow, T’Chaka.”
"I can get you a support to stand up tomorrow." T'Chaka is all smiles now. He pushes N'Jobu's shirt up to his shoulder and bites hard on one nipple.
"I really want to fuck you sore today, I may be old, but I can still fuck my little brother into the mattress, and I won't let my nephew beat me to it."
T'Chaka slides his arm behind N'Jobu's legs to grip the other side of his pants. He pulls them up – exposing N'Jobu's ass – at the same time pushing N'Jobu's legs closer to his stomach with his shoulder.
N’Jobu hates the position already. But he goes willingly enough. He’s already aroused. T’Chaka and their topic of discussion affecting him greatly.
"Now tell me, I'm going to fuck you just like that."
“Lubricant first.” N’Jobu half wishes he hadn’t mentioned what he’d seen at all. He should have known it would lead to something like this. And no, he didn’t care if their sons had probably been sparing on using lubricant, they were young and high on each other. N’Jobu was older and wiser.
He cushions his demand by pulling T’Chaka closer into him. Bast this position was already uncomfortable. “I will describe the position in detail, if you make it worth my time.”
"When don't I make it worth your time, N’Jo?" T'Chaka pulls N'Jobu's pants further down, letting N'Jobu take them out of his legs. He gets up, pushing N'Jobu's legs hard against his stomach, forcing his ass even higher.
"You sound like an old man." He caresses N'Jobu's asscheeks lovingly, and them grips them firmly. "Lubricant–there was a time where we didn't need it, and you can feel it more like this."
N'Jobu feels T'Chaka’s hard cock pressed snuggly between his ass cheeks. He continues, "There's nothing that pleases me more."
N’Jobu regrets many things. Investigating strange noises, telling his brother about it, actually describing what their two sons had been up to. Yet, the feeling of his brother’s arousal close and dangerous in the way that promised equal bouts of pleasure and pain was at the top of the list. He hasn’t been prepared to play this game with T’Chaka tonight. No matter how much they both enjoyed it.
It had been awhile since they’d played like this. N’Jobu didn’t necessarily miss it, but the look on T’Challa’s face, before he realized N’Jobu was present–had certainly reminded him of why they’d played such games so frequently in their youth.
T'Chaka pushes further down, to the point where it hurts, the iron grip on his hips, preventing N'Jobu from moving his lower body.
"I will not go too hard on you." N'Jobu knows his brother well enough to not believe a word of it.
T’Chaka puts some space between them, letting N'Jobu breath a little more easily, and spits on N'Jobu's ass, aiming for his hole. With their position, it's not easy, and it gets messy pretty fast. Some of it dripping down N'Jobu's thighs to his ass and his stomach to the bed and T'Chaka's own thighs.
N’Jobu is going to actually hurt T’Chaka if that’s all he’s getting. Decisively he squirms up and closer towards T’Chaka. He remembers half-way through his panicked arousal to make himself look less desperate. He knew all too well what that did to T’Chaka.
“Let me taste you.” It’s been awhile–embarrassing but also more due to N’Jobu’s own laziness than anything, since he’d given T’Chaka’s cock such thorough attention. T’Chaka was the more generous of the two of them when it came to oral sex. Now N’Jobu hopes T’Chaka’s own lust and tendency for sadism, particularly involving N’Jobu’s throat, would win out over his impatience.
T'Chaka's spit-wet fingers press insistently inside N'Jobu, it's not nearly wet enough, but N'Jobu is experienced he could take it. "I need more than that N’Jo, why should I use your mouth first?"
N’Jobu’s vision starts to swim. Bast why was his brother like this? But he makes himself answer. "You have not used my mouth in awhile.” Not untrue. T’Chaka didn’t usually have the patience and they both had work in the morning so sexual trysts were at times– perfunctory.
He knows that’s not enough so he adds. “It helps. When you use my mouth first.” He doesn’t specify why. It helped because it was almost meditative when they did have the time to spend on such acts. It helped because while T’Chaka had a sadist streak long enough to surprise anyone who wasn’t close to him, the intimacy of the act was very grounding for N’Jobu. Reassuring in a way other aspects of their game wasn’t.
"It helps?" T'Chaka smiles "Your lips look very inviting, and while I miss it– I'm going to fuck your mouth–" He spits on his cock and spreads the liquid along its length. "–after I fuck your ass." The fingers inside N'Jobu spread wider.
N’Jobu knows another way to make T’Chaka do what he wants. He also knows he's not going to beg to choke on his brother’s cock. Even if he’ll be begging soon enough for a different reason. T'Chaka puts a few more spit on his finger and put them back for a few more very rough trust inside; their gazes locked.
N’Jobu breaks eye contact first. Already there is sweat gathering at the junction of his thigh and stomach. Bast tonight was going to be long if this was how they were starting. The discomfort from lack of proper lubricant is achingly familiar, and T’Chaka’s gaze promises several things not all of them pleasurable. N’Jobu is still hard however, his body knows what is coming.
T'Chaka put his torso back against N'Jobu's legs. N'Jobu wait for the inevitable pain of the stretching of his ass, but it doesn't happen. T'Chaka reaches for N'Jobu's cock in the small space left between his legs and stomach. His hand is still wet from his saliva. His strokes are long and slow, squeezing harder near the tip of his cock, just like N'Jobu likes it.
The unexpected pleasure somehow only makes it worse. N’Jobu can’t really enjoy T’Chaka’s ministrations when he knows what’s coming next, but the pleasure is undeniably good.
Once N'Jobu is getting close, T’Chaka stops, pushes N’Jobu’s legs all the way up to his stomach and align his cock against his hole, thrusting in. The only thing slowing him down is the friction, N'Jobu is still a little too tight, but the spit was generously applied.
The slide is painful, making N’Jobu groan low and struggle under T’Chaka’s grasp. It’s not the most painful they’ve ever had but it hurts all the same. To go from near orgasmic bliss to sharp and insistent pain. It takes several moments for T’Chaka to hilt himself fully. Pain and friction and shock – why was he shocked– makes the moments even longer.
When T’Chaka is buried completely, the pain from the friction lessens somewhat, but the overall burn makes N’Jobu’s thighs quake. T'Chaka grips N'Jobu legs for equilibrium, pushing them even more uncomfortably, his hips move back slowly, then he slams his cock back in, pushing it as far as he could get it.
N’Jobu’s groan gets louder and he hisses out loud as T’Chaka pulls out to push back in. Bast, it hurt, and T’Chaka wasn’t trying to make it pleasurable. The angle was wrong and the position was— he squirms more in T’Chaka’s grasp and is rewarded with another thrust, faster this time as his body presented less and less resistance to T’Chaka’s cock.
"That's it, that's my N’Jo." T'Chaka says as he thrust a third time in, leaving N'Jobu barely the time to adjust before filling him with his cock again.
T’Chaka’s praise, combined with his insistent thrusts, make N’Jobu whine. It’s not yet at the point where he’s outright begging but he knows that’s coming. The burn is starting to feel almost bearable mercifully but T’Chaka’s voice and his cock and his hands, pressed into skin and grip too tight–N’Jobu couldn’t get away even if he wanted to.
It feels immeasurable good and he knows it’s just beginning.
His rhythm grows faster quickly. T'Chaka is mercilessly, putting strength into each thrust, all while trapping N'Jobu under him. “Is that what you saw you son do? Is it harder?”
N’Jobu feels both cramped and cradled in his current position. Squirming in his brothers grasp didn’t stop the strength of each thrust or make the filth coming out of his mouth any better.
Unfortunately N’Jobu has never been one to hold his tongue, not with T’Chaka anyway. “Is that what this is about, T’Chaka?” His words get a bit mangled from his own bodily reaction to T’Chaka but he knows T’Chaka hears him when his thrusts slow to a steady and insistent grind.
In that moment, N’Jobu wishes he could play along better. Really they only thing he excelled at undoubtedly was riling T’Chaka up even more. Bast he wouldn’t be able to attend to any early meetings tomorrow.
“You said you wouldn’t be too forceful.” N’Jobu tacks the words onto the tail end of his question. Bast he was an idiot.
T'Chaka's thrusts doesn’t ease up. "I said I wanted you sore." He punctuates his words with an especially hard thrust in a painful angle.
"You know me, N’Jo, it could be worse."
N’Jobu did know and T’Chaka’s warning is enough. “He was not this forceful.”
He picks his next words even more carefully, flush and sweaty . “T’Challa is young. I doubt he would enjoy–such–ferocity.”
Saying the words out loud makes N’Jobu feel weird. He really doesn’t want to think about what his nephew may or may not like in bed. Or the idea that they share any similarities in sexual preference–which he supposed might have been T’Chaka’s intent.
T'Chaka doesn’t stopping his forceful thrusts, but now presses against the more pleasurable spots "No… Not as much as his uncle does."
Then T'Chaka pushes forward even more, making N'Jobu wonder if all of his ribs would survive the nights activities intact. T’Chaka wraps a hand lightly on N'Jobu's throat. “I love seeing you take it like that, you’re so beautiful under me, spread for my cock."
Then he presses his fingers against N’Jobu’s throat, choking him lightly "You’re going to be more sore than you’ve been in years, little brother.”
N’Jobu whines in response, the pain merging with new flowing pleasure. The pressure on his throat, the mixed pleasure of penetration, T’Chaka’s voice– Bast it was lovely but not enough for him to come. No, he already knew T’Chaka would make him work for his release. Maybe when he fucked N’Jobu’s mouth? The thought of waiting till T’Chaka had come at least once inside him to come himself is awful and entirely likely. Definitely enough to make him beg.
T'Chaka moves up, pushing N'Jobu's ass even higher with the grip on his leg. N'Jobu can breath a little more easily, but his contracted muscles having a little more room makes him feel the soreness already. T'Chaka's hand leaves N'Jobu's throat to rest on his shoulder, T'Chaka steadying himself in the new position. His thrusts even deeper than before, pressing past N’Jobu’s prostate, and close to his other entrance inside.
He likes having T'Chaka so deep inside him, but the position is not enough to make him get off, it's just teasing, frustrating brushing against his prostate, not pressing it directly.
N’Jobu shifts and suddenly the thrusts press more insistently at the entrance of his inner womb. It gives him a vivid flashback of that night in the throne room all those years ago. He’d been terrified that night. Terrified of the lengths his brother would go to keep him, terrified of his own unique biology and wakandas unique blessing that would make it even possible. And he’d been absolutely wrecked after the fact at how intimate the whole ordeal had been, despite his panic. Even after he did conceive some months later it hadn’t been a very happy time, and then he miscarried and all of that had ended.
T’Chaka has been uncharacteristically careful following all that to avoid doing what he was doing now. N’Jobus breath stutters with the pace of his brothers’ thrust and his mind flutters at the idea. At the thought. they were both past the age to be tempting fate and Bast like this.
The position, N'Jobu completely under him, vulnerable to his hands, to each and every thrust deeper inside him, his body moving with the rhythm. T’Chaka could come right now, that's how aroused their position makes him. Already he’s getting sore– he's not as young as he used to be–especially since he stopped taking the herb. Not that he would ever admit it, what he wants to hear N'Jobu, hear how much he enjoyed when T’Chaka was rough with him, how much he missed it. Feeling his cock enter N'Jobu's inner womb nearly pushes him to the edge, getting deep enough to touch it, knowing what it could do, he could come inside him.
He changes the angle a little more to hit the prostate better; and keeps the rhythm and depth of the thrusts. He knows N'Jobu must be overstimulated by now, but he won't touch N'Jobu until he asks.
N'Jobu is getting frustrated now, and a bit brazen. He wants to come. Also he wants T'Chaka to stop tempting faith and making his whole body clench with the vague promise of– he can't even think about.
"’Chaka is enough" His voice sounds choked and wrung out but he doesn't care. His brother has made his point, and N'Jobu would not be testing him again anytime soon. T'Chaka's thrust get a little more shallow, pushing more on N'Jobu's pleasurable spot; but the idea takes roots in T'Chaka, his arousal mingled with the idea of impregnating his brother again, "Wouldn't you want it, for me to come in your womb?” T’Chaka can’t hide his desire at the thought. His hand now hovering above N'Jobu's dick. "Coming at the same time as you feel my seeds deep in you?"
N’Jobu does not want that all. He wants to be fucked without the risk of pregnancy. He conveys as much by going mostly still in T’Chaka’s grasp. This wasn’t part of the game.
T'Chaka slows down immediately, till N'Jobu's ass is resting against the bed. "If you do not want it...? "
N'Jobu reflexively wraps his legs around T'Chaka's waist. He hadn't expected T'Chaka to stop.
"Don't stop."
T'Chaka picks back up the pace, holding onto N'Jobu's legs around him. He doesn't go as deep this time, or as fast, and makes sure to have N'Jobu feel it. He’s already so close. After a few more thrusts he feels the orgasm building; his hips move faster, pounding N'Jobu again for the last minute before release, not care if he's going too strong or too fast. He fucks N'Jobu through his orgasm, his body following each of his thrust with the strength. When he finishes he stills and sits back down, looking at N'Jobu who is still hard, with barely the hint of precum
N'Jobu's thighs untense and he gives his brother/husband a look. T'Chaka looks unrepentant and absolutely disheveled in the evening light. If N’Jobu sat up he would make a mess. But he doesn't want to bring himself off, he wants T'Chaka to do it for him.
"T'Chaka?"
"Yes, my love?" T’Chaka sounds winded.
"Come closer."
T'Chaka walks on all four on top of N'Jobu, he feels sore all over, his lower back, ass and thighs mostly. He brings his face close to N'Jobu's, hand hovering near his hips.
"Make me come." N’Jobu commands.
T'Chaka lightly touches N'Jobu's cock. "I'll need a little more than that."
“What do you want me to say?” N’Jobu knew full well what T’Chaka wanted from him, but he was tired of this game and only wanted to to come.
T’Chaka gives another light touch to N’Jobu’s cock. N’Jobu squirms under him. “Please, brother.”
Saying those words out loud takes the last bit of resistance N’Jobu feels. T’Chaka in lowers his head and simultaneously kisses him, giving him the long awaited stimulation of his cock. N’Jobu moves into the touch, demanding more with each stroke. T’Chaka’s grip is just right on the edge of painful, but the prolonged arousal of the evening makes it even sweater.
T’Chaka lets go of the roughness, kissing him tenderly on the side of his face, sucking on his lobe. N’Jobu, now on the verge of coming, feels the tension of the orgasm building up, but there is still something missing. It’s agonizingly frustrating. T’Chaka slows his rhythm and loosens his grip. His kisses are still fervent but N’Jobu can feels his eyes are closed. T’Chaka is tired. The wild sex that he so wanted had tired him. It makes N’Jobu smile.
His old panther. He can’t help but tease, “Are you going to finish me anytime soon old man? Or do I need to ask the service of a young attendant?”
These words appear to jolt T’Chaka out of his drowsiness because he pulls N’Jobu till he is under T’Chaka and his own hips straddles N’Jobu’s. The sudden halt in pleasure nearly makes him scream in frustration. The only stimulation left being the contact of N’Jobu’s thighs on his cock.
“If you keep pushing me N’Jo, not getting to come will be the least of your worries.”
A long moment passes and N’Jobu unrepentant responds deadpan, “Yes dear.”
T’Chaka pinches N’Jobu’s side for good measure. Still straddling N’Jobu, he leaves enough space to resume the stroking. N’Jobu’s orgasm sneaks up on him but it overwhelms him when it does come, causing full body tremors. His release painting his stomach, and T’Chaka’s front some even gets on his face and in his beard. They both needed a bath now, but N’Jobu is tired and he knows T’Chaka is too.
T’Chaka releases his cock gently then rolls on his side to lounge besides N’Jobu; his eyes closing again. N’Jobu turns his head towards his brother, but before he can say anything T’Chaka grumbles “If you say anything N’Jo...”, the warning is weak but clear.
N’Jobu smiles and kisses him on the cheek before getting up to head to the bathroom. He calls back halfway to his destination, “Don’t fall asleep like that T’Chaka, you’ll complain to me in the morning!”