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on your lips like liquor

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Matthew is sitting in his favourite recliner, glasses slipping down his nose further the more engrossed in his book he becomes, when the idea comes. Crossing their shared living room, Alfred wedges himself into the gap between Matthew’s legs, cheek pressing firmly against his thigh. He looks at his brother from below, watching violet eyes move over line after line of text.

“Hey Matty,” Al says casually, fingertips dragging along the stitching of Matt’s jeans, tracing up his thigh, over the zipper seam, and back down. He makes sure his voice is nothing but innocent curiosity. “Whatcha doin’?”

He’s met with the turn of a page, then a slow, distracted answer. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Al grins. “‘s what I thought,” he says, partly to himself. Shifting fully onto his knees, Al smoothes his palms up Matt’s thighs, nudging them a little further apart.

Matthew shifts in response unthinkingly, fingering the edge of one of his book’s pages. Alfred waits for him to flip it before he goes for Matthew’s fly, popping the button and easing the zipper down to expose the line of the blonde’s cock in his briefs, thick and wide despite being completely soft. Desire and anticipation flutter in his belly as he palms Matt's cock and squeezes, earning a sudden start from the Canadian.

"Al, what are you--" Matt begins, moving his book aside to finally look at Al just as he leans in to nuzzle him to half-hardness. He sucks in a breath, jolts of pleasure zipping through him; Al makes him lose that breath too, holds his gaze while he does it. "I'm reading right now."

"Didn't ask you to stop," Al responds, tugging the band of Matt's underwear down just enough to free the head of his cock.

Matthew's protest dies in his throat as Al's tongue swipes over the head of his cock, warm and wet. For a long moment he's stuck open-mouthed, eyes drawn to the pink, wet, wiggle-slide of Al's tongue as his hardening cock is exposed inch by inch. He watches Alfred's tongue go all the way down to the base before the American stops suddenly, lips pressed soft and slick to the underside of his cock.

"Thought you were reading."

"I was," he responds, but there's no venom in his voice, only the breathlessness of being pulled from zero to sixty in as many seconds. It's hard, but Matthew manages to direct his gaze back to his book. Stubbornly, he says, "And I think I'll continue now if you don't mind."

"Mmhmm," Alfred hums, poking his tongue out to trace along the pattern of a prominent vein. He keeps his eyes trained on Matthew as he slides wet lips and tongue up the length of Matt's cock, down, up again. He can't see Matt's face behind the book, but he can hear his breaths, speeding up; can taste the precome pearling at the tip of Matt's cock. And when Al finally lowers his mouth over Matthew's dick, taking it down until it nudges the back of his throat, he feels Matt's fingers twining loosely in his hair; feels Matt's body tensing under his touch.

"Al, Jesus," Matthew gasps, pressing his face into the open book in his other hand. He starts to thrust shallowly as Alfred's throat works around the head of his dick and Al pulls off him with a wet, satisfied slurp.

Rocking up on to his knees, Al draws the book from Matthew's face. He takes a good look at the blonde's high flush and bitten-pink lips before he kisses him, open-mouthed and filthy. Matt's groan as their tongues slide together tugs at Alfred's core, has his cock pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans.

"Bet you wanna fuck my mouth now," he says when they part, reaching down to undo his fly, relieving some of the pressure. He can't help but grin at the sudden knowing look that crosses Matthew's face, followed by an amused snort as Matt sets his book aside to stand.

"So that's what you've wanted all along, eh?"

"Mmm."

Leant back on his haunches, Alfred is at just the right height to tilt his head back, open his mouth wide, and let Matt slide his cock in slowly. He holds on to Matthew's thighs, resting his head in Matt's hands, tongue wiggling to encourage the blonde deeper. At this vantage point Al can see himself reflected in Matt's glasses, pink mouth stretched to the maximum as Matt pulls out, goes in again, pushing a little further each time.

He groans as Matt's cock drags over his tongue, bumps against the sensitive flesh of his throat. Matt's pace, steadily building, leaves Al breathless and gurgling, forces him to try and open even wider to pull in air.

Heat mounting in his groin, in his chest, Al's hand snakes down into his pants to wrap around his dick. He strokes himself in time to Matthew's rhythm, eyes closed, losing himself in Matt's shaky moans, in the way his lungs burn, deprived.

Just a little more...

"Shit, Al, I'm gonna--" is all the warning Alfred gets before Matthew moans low and long and comes down his throat, fingers wound tight in his hair, holding him still, cutting off his air completely.

Eyes wide and throat spasming convulsively, for a moment, Al is panicked, trapped, not breathing, mouth full of cock and come. And it's just what he needs to get off, a desperate whimper caught in his throat as he shudders, squeezing and milking his cock until there's nothing left.

Alfred is left dizzy and panting as Matthew draws back. The Canadian drops to his knees in front of him and presses their mouths together, licking the taste of himself off of Al's tongue. He touches his fingers gently to Al's throat after they disconnect, cock twitching faintly with the memory of how it just felt.

"Doesn't hurt, does it?"

Al swallows, shaking his head with a wobbly smile. His breaths are still coming rapid and shallow and his voice holds a touch of raspiness. "Nah, feels sore, but good sore."

"Good," Matthew says, pressing gentle kisses to the bruised corners of Alfred's mouth. He follows up with the glide of his thumbs over Al's red cheeks. "You could just say what you want next time, though, you know."

Al's smile takes on a playful edge again. "Yeah, and where's the fun in that?"

Matthew supposes he has a point.