“I hate you!” Kylo shrieked at the top of his lungs. His high, youthful little voice was a piercing, rage-filled sound, but what was worse to his parents was that it sounded like he meant it. “I hate all of you!”
“Why, Ky?” Ben asked quietly, in a voice that should have been indistinguishable from his twin’s- but anyone could easily tell the difference between them, identical or not. And not just because their parents dressed Kylo in red and Ben in blue.
The angry five year old began listing reasons, or explaining, but he was so emotional- angry and overwhelmed and furious, and relieved to have been asked at all- that it sounded like gibberish to both Han and Leia. Whatever it was, though, Ben’s lip began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.
“That’s enough,” snapped Han, and Kylo shrieked loudly, unceasing, until Han began stomping up the stairs. Kylo wavered in fear, his voice dying out with a shiver, and then looked at Han as if he had been wronged so greatly.
They just hadn’t woken him up yet. Ben had gotten up first, then woke up his mother. Han had gotten up for work shortly thereafter. Kylo came down the stairs with sleep in his eyes and scowled at his family enjoying the morning without him.
Han couldn’t understand what the fuckin’ kid’s problem was. Leia couldn’t understand why, if he was so desperate for affection, he fought it relentlessly whenever it was offered.
All Kylo knew was that he was angry and alone and that everyone else deserved to pay for making him that way. He was five, after all.
All Ben knew was that Kylo was really, really mean all of the time, and he just wanted to get hugs and kisses and cuddles without Kylo teasing him for once. He was five, after all.
“You wipe that fucking look off of your face right now, young man!” Han shouted as Ben and Leia exchanged sad eyes. “You march right down those steps and you apologize to your brother-!”
“NO!” Kylo shrieked, barely sounding human, stomping and jumping. “You can’t make me! You can’t make- no- NO! Stop it! Let me go! LET ME GO!”
Han carried a squirming Kylo over his shoulder. Their faces were red and angry; Han also looked haunted, though, and Kylo also looked terrified.
Han didn’t know why. The worst Han had ever given him was ten swats- that was when he’d broken Ben’s nose. The worst he usually got was five swats, never hard. Just with the palm of his hand- never a fucking belt, like his Dad had given him.
If Han had had a brother, and treated him half as poorly as Kylo treated Ben, Han wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week.
It took Han two and a half hours in the den with Kylo. Kylo screamed and shrieked for the first half, then sobbed and snarled. But, two and a half hours later, Kylo dragged his feet on the way out and stared at the ground.
He looked really scary to Ben. The sight engraved itself into his mind. His eyes were red and surrounded by purple. He looked skinny and ghostlike. Ben shuddered and squeezed his mother close; Kylo’s eyes narrowed at the sight, lips tightening.
Leia would usually yell at him for that, but she didn’t want to know what Han would do. Besides, Han was already late, scrambling to make himself a thermos of coffee and muttering about missing breakfast for ‘this fucking shit’.
“Sorry, Ben,” Kylo all but spat.
“Try again,” Han snarled.
Then, Kylo got even scarier. His whole face neutralized and, in a scary, empty voice, he said “I’m sorry, Benny.”
“There,” Han said. “Was that so hard? I have to go. Love you all.” Han pressed a quick kiss into Ben’s cheek, then Leia’s. “Come here!” he snapped at Kylo.
It was a struggle to get Kylo to come closer, but as soon as he did, Han’s watch started beeping and he cursed.
“You took too fuckin’ long- damnit- Chewie’s gonna rip me a new asshole for it this time-”
Kylo watched his father leave without giving him a kiss, and turned to run up the stairs before Mama or Ben could see the tears welling up.
They wouldn’t care anyway. Daddy said it all the time- “no one gives a shit” whenever he really needed something.
He jumped onto his red bed and screamed, flailing into and battering his whole mattress.
Daddy had walked over to Mama and Ben. Why did Kylo have to walk to him?
He was so sad, so angry, so lonely all the time. And no one cared. So, why should he care?
He didn’t. He couldn’t. They hurt him too much for it.
They were fourteen when they started freshman year. It wasn’t even lunchtime on the first full day of class, and Kylo was leaning against a brick wall, cigarette in hand. Ben scowled from his spot near the window, watching. Kylo was surrounded by juniors and seniors, passing a cigarette back and forth. Kylo looked as unbothered as he had for years, his eyes cool and relaxed and moderately bored. Sometimes, he’d glance at one of the girls and give her an almost dismissive once-over- the boredom would grow, and something like pity would have his lips curling into a smirk.
Ben simmered in fury, but kept his composure. Something Kylo really fucking ought to learn how to do.
The years went on, and Kylo could often be found in the same little gap between school buildings, smoking cigarettes or joints or slugging Jack Daniels. When he was an underclassmen, the girls were always upperclassmen. When he’d hit junior year, though, he’d started taking a vested interest in freshmen girls, and by senior year, they were all he’d entertain, even a little.
There he was, Mr. Popular. Girls swooned at the sight of him, and every guy wanted to be him- for some, that manifested as hatred, and for others, some weird idolization, but they crumpled to Kylo all the same. Somehow, after failing half of his classes freshman year and having to double his load for sophomore year, he’d started magically getting female teachers for all the classes he did poorly in, and charmed and occasionally fucked his way to a solid B-. He was doing great at school- Cs and Bs in grades, and absolutely acing the social aspects of it.
What was worse was that Mom and Dad had given up on him. He did well enough in school, and he never got arrested. He didn’t bring home pregnant girls or ask for condoms or Plan B or anything like that. As far as they were concerned, Kylo had grown up as good as they could have hoped. They largely just let him live his life however he wanted now.
Ben was pissed. He worked his fucking ass off and all he’d gotten out of it were harder classes- stupid fucking AP courses that Mama wouldn’t let him switch out of- and Dad rode his ass when he slipped up and got a B+ rather than an A. He was told ‘no’ when he asked to go out to parties and the one time he’d actually asked a girl on a date, Mom had nipped that in the bud. Now, Voe fucking hated him and he was the butt of far too many jokes for something that had happened two goddamn years ago.
Kylo had everything. He had everyone wrapped around his finger and he mocked girls for liking him, then fucked them, anyway, and promptly lost their numbers. He did poorly in school and had next to no homework and he wouldn’t do it, anyway, and he was happy about it. He had fucking everything, and still, he had to rub it in Ben’s face all the fucking time- and the fact that Ben had none of it.
“Do you wanna come, too, Ben?” asked one girl just trying to get in Kylo’s good graces.
“Nah,” Kylo had answered for him, eyes shimmering with sadistic delight. “He’s studying- got a test for AP Chem that he’s been bugging about.”
It was true, and that made Ben even angrier. Why the fuck did Kylo get to do whatever he wanted, but Ben couldn’t flop one fucking test in order to feel like he was some semblance of alive?
“You got a date to prom?” Uncle Chewie asked.
Kylo snorted derisively. “‘Course he doesn’t.”
“Who’re you takin’, then, stud?” Uncle Lando asked.
Kylo’s eyes shimmered, and he grinned. “Bazine fucking Netal.”
Hatred, envy, greed, lust, vitriol. It consumed Ben, and he kept it locked inside. Let it eat at him until it felt like there was nothing left.
Everything ate at him until it felt like he had nothing left. He was a hollow husk of nothing.
And Kylo was taking Bazine fucking Netal to the prom. The girl Ben had liked since they all first started at Alderaan Preparatory School.
Immediately after the uncles’ footsteps had moved past the stairs, Ben grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shoved him into the wall.
Kylo lifted one brow, eyeing Ben in… Curiosity? He seemed only slightly wary, and mostly- intrigued?
Dare Ben think he looked- slightly impressed?
“The fuck do you think you’re doing, taking her to prom?” Ben demanded.
Kylo’s eyes narrowed, a grin spreading over his face. He tilted his head to the side, dripping in amusement. “Getting my dick wet. Benny’s crush puts out for anything over six foot with any semblance of sexual appeal.” Kylo gave Ben a critical glance, accompanied by a dazzling, cruel smirk.
Ben snarled, and again, Kylo watched- this time, almost in fascination. “Fuck you,” Ben snapped. “I don’t think you’ve fucked anything legal since before you were.”
Kylo laughed. “Keep track of my exploits, do you, Benny? That’s a little weird- unless you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” Ben snarled. He shoved his forearm into Kylo’s throat, feeling frenzied and unhinged. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, asshole.”
Surprise passed over Kylo’s face then. “Yeah?” his voice was strained all of a sudden. He shrugged Ben off, straightened his jacket, and Ben bunched up his fists and glowered at eyes identical to his own. “Join the fucking club, golden boy Benny. Get fucked- oh,” Kylo took a step forward, something harsh and cold in his eyes. “You can’t.”
Ben punched Kylo in the face. Kylo bent over, hand flying to his face.
Ben had seen Kylo in fights. Ben could not take Kylo in a fight.
But in fights, even if the other guy swung first, Kylo’s blow always hit first.
Kylo flashed Ben a lethal glower. “You turn and you walk away,” he said in a low, threatening tone. But rather than angry, right now he sounded- bitter. “Or I’ll fuck you up, asshole.”
Ben kicked. It didn’t connect. The two started fighting- really, it was Kylo fighting and Ben flailing in rage and desperation, just like Kylo had done so often only a decade or so ago. “God- knows- it’s the most- brotherly- fucking- bonding that you’d- give me!”
That stopped Kylo dead, and Ben went to kick him, but suddenly, Kylo’s knees were digging into Ben’s and his hands had a death grip on Ben’s wrists. Kylo, panting, glared at Ben, shaking slightly. “Just because you’re fucking jealous that I finally found people that like me,” he snarled. “Doesn’t mean you have some fucking sense of ‘brotherly’ affection now.”
“Now?” Ben spat back, struggling- but it was no use. Kylo worked out, and Ben… Studied. He wasn’t small; against the average guy, he’d probably outmatch them as well as Kylo was outmatching Ben. But he wasn’t up against the average guy.
He was up against a more muscular and more experienced carbon copy of himself.
“What the fuck is that shit, asshole? While you were up here wrecking our fucking room, I was downstairs wishing my brother would come- I don’t fucking know- throw a ball around or some other shit kids do. Fuck you.”
Kylo snarled and suddenly, he was shoving himself to his feet. “Sure, asshole. Remember it like that. You’ve got fucking everything- you get handed fucking everything- and you don’t get to throw fists at me for the one fucking thing I had to get for my goddamn self.”
With that, Kylo slammed the door to their bedroom shut and all but tumbled down the stairs. Ben stayed like that, sitting on the floor with his legs extended, supporting his weight with one outstretched hand, for a long time.
Kylo put on a real show with Bazine at prom. Ben watched, numb and nearly unseeing.
It was the last time Ben couldn’t tear his eyes away when Kylo put on a show. Kylo only seemed to get angrier, but to Ben’s surprise, he started keeping it to himself more.
It didn’t feel better. In fact, it felt worse.
They graduated before they were eighteen, their birthdays in the summer- right on the cusp of zodiac signs. Ben was a Cancer, and Kylo was a Leo, and Mom would go on and on about how they fit it so perfectly.
Ben had scholarships to just about all of the best universities that offered them, as well as financial aid to the Ivy League of his choice. Kylo had scoffed at the idea of community college. He had a band that played on weekends at a local dive bar, and between that and odd jobs, he was saving up to ‘get the fuck outta dodge’.
Then, they were eighteen. No parties, but Dad sat them both down at the table, Chewie and Lando leaning on the counter, Mom frowning in disapproval from her usual spot. He slapped a case of beer onto the table, then a bottle of his favorite whiskey, then a big bottle of vodka.
“Happy birthday, assholes, and fuck you for all the hell you gave me. Drink up.”
Ben had two beers and a shot of whiskey. Kylo finished the vodka and the rest of the beers.
Kylo was passed out on his bed the moment he hit the pillow, his jeans unbuttoned and half unzipped but still on. He had lost one boot and his bare foot dangled towards the floor; the foot still in a boot lay on the mattress, dropping dirt onto it. He had a red mark on his face from where his cheek lay on the zipper of a pocket on his leather jacket. He was drooling and snoring.
Ben was sitting on his own bed. Their room was split into two, perfect mirror images. There was a white dresser on Ben’s side opposite Kylo’s black dresser, and in between them, the door to the hallway. Their beds were pressed into corners; Kylo had black sheets and a red comforter, and Ben had white sheets and a blue comforter. Their nightstands, black and white, sat side by side across from the door. The walls were all white, Ben’s side decorated in signed book covers hung in frames and posters from video games and comics; Kylo’s side was decorated in polaroids and photo booth picture strips and posters about musicians and movies.
They were so similar and so different. Ben’s brow knitted as he slowly mustered the will to sit forward and pluck off his slipper, then throw it at his twin’s face. Kylo snored louder, then sniffed and shifted. Ben threw the other slipper. “Get the fuck up, asshole,” Ben whisper-snapped.
Kylo’s eyes dragged open, face twisted with grogginess. “Fuck zzhjou want?” he slurred out, voice more messed up by sleep than booze.
Kylo was no stranger to chugging alcohol like it was water.
“I want a fucking hug,” Ben snapped.
Ben was a lightweight, and certainly not used to alcohol.
“You- what?” Kylo hissed, dragging himself into a sitting position.
“I want a fucking hug, asshole. Did I stutter?”
Kylo glowered at Ben for a long few moments. He almost looked- suspicious. “You woke me up for a hug?”
Kylo leaned forward, dripping venom and agitation. “Blow me.” He rolled over, laying on his side, facing away from his brother.
“Fine,” Ben said. “That’s what it takes to earn a fucking a hug, I guess.”
“Fine.” Ben crawled off of his bed and onto Kylo’s.
Kylo ignored him. Ben slapped the back of Kylo’s head as hard as he could and Kylo snarled- in an instant, he had Ben’s wrists pinned into the wall. “Hit me again, you dumb motherfucker,” Kylo spat, looking like a madman. His teeth were bared, eyes shimmering with fury, any hint of sleep or alcohol entirely absent. “And I’ll fucking kill you. And offer to blow me again?” Kylo leaned in closer. “I’ll fuck your throat until you drown in my fucking come, asshole. Get off my bed, you filthy fucking- pansy-” Kylo shoved a drunken Ben off of the red bed, and Ben hit his blue bed and doubled over with a huff. After a moment, Ben glanced back at Kylo to see him looking- upset. Ben didn’t have time to unpack the look before Kylo was rolling over again, facing away once more.
Ben clambered onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. “You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered. “All the time, everyday. But I always had some sense of ‘brotherly affection’, and if you ever say I didn’t again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Kylo said nothing, just shifted slightly on the bed.
Kylo got the fuck out of dodge not a month after Ben left for Harvard. Kylo was touring with his band, The Knight of Ren, and he dropped Solo from his name and used his middle name, Ren, as his surname. Ben’s plan was to go to Harvard for his history degree, and Yale for law school.
Kylo didn’t plan. Ben envied that.
Kylo flourished as a musician the second he left the quiet, modest city of Chandrila. Before Ben could graduate Harvard, TKOR was on the radio. Before Ben could graduate law school, Kylo Ren was a household name, as big and as known as any modern rockstar could be. He was a master of making his songs palatable enough for the mainstream, but still kept the raw, rock-and-roll rage that called out to fans of his chosen genre.
At twenty five, when he was officially a lawyer at last, Ben was more than a little fucking lonely.
He saw Bazine Netal again for the first time in years when he was still a newcomer, but a promising one. He worked in New York City under his uncle- his only blood uncle, Luke- and absolutely dominated in the courtroom. Between his skill and nepotism, he had the pick of cases right from the get-go. He never had to protect anyone he believed deserved what was coming. She was his assistant.
He pined silently for her and watched her whenever he found the chance. She had pretty, hazel-brown eyes, her skin always so flawless and sunkissed. She’d let her natural hair grow out; it was dark where it had been platinum blonde in high school. She’d put on just a bit of weight, and it suited her well. She didn’t look quite so much like she starved herself anymore.
She looked good.
He still wanted her, but now, she was just a painful reminder- a walking memory of his darkest times.
“Mr. Solo,” Baz- she liked being called Baz, not Bazine, he’d learned- said as she poked into his office.
“Miss Netal,” he said.
She looked so flustered, apologetic. “My- my daughter’s babysitter cancelled, so I have to go-... I have to go. Pick her up from daycare, then watch her.”
Ben blinked once, twice, thrice. “Okay,” he said. “How, ah, how old is she?” He knew for a damned fact that Kylo had fucked her, and he knew for a damned fact that Kylo never used condoms.
Dumb fucking asshole.
“She’s five,” Baz said.
Oh, thank God. “Yeah- yes, of course. Family comes first.”
Baz smiled and thanked him before disappearing.
It started happening more and more. Always a new excuse- if she went back to one, it was well after using it the last time. Eventually, he heard her whispering with a coworker, Kaydel Connix, calling Ben a ‘sucker’ for letting her ‘scam him’ out of her paycheck for ‘almost no work’. Called him foolish and oblivious.
Oblivious? Hardly. Foolish? … He had to give her that.
He sat her down in his office. He was perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded, eyes as sympathetic as they could be.
“Do you know how many times you’ve called off in the past three months?” Ben asked quietly.
“I know,” Baz said, laying on her flustered charm.
It was a ruse. It didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“I know, and I’m sorry-”
“Thirty-seven times, Miss Netal. And those are just the times you showed up- you left early a fair amount, too. Miss Tico’s been doing more of your work than you have- maybe I should give her half of your salary, too?”
Bazine paled, and instantly, her charismatic veneer fell to anger and self-importance. Her lips were pursed.
“Now,” Ben said after she was silent for a few moments. “You’ll get your full pay. She’ll receive a bonus for all of her hard work and dedication. You’re fired. Feel more than free to file for unemployment. Now, go.”
Baz rose up and walked out without another word. She did file for unemployment- listing some bullshit reason for being let go- and she got it.
Cold, fakeness, distance, pressure. It was all he knew. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, always. But Ben was fairly confident that Atlas had never found himself so close to crumbling.
Whatever. Good for Baz. She did, indeed, have a five-year-old daughter. Regardless of Bazine’s habits and attitude, he didn’t want to be the reason that little girl went without food.
Across the country, in L.A., Kylo was just as plagued by his own struggles.
Fire, fakeness, distance, numbness. It was all he knew. He was a starving wolf in the middle of a desert, hot and hungry and thirsty and alone, surrounded by deadness. It wasn’t as poetic as Ben’s Atlas scenario. None of Kylo’s ever were.
He saw Bazine again, too. He was twenty, and he fucked her seventeen times in the course of one week, violent and hateful, nitty and gritty. She came to him pregnant and he tossed her a band of money and told her to take care of it however she wanted.
He never bothered to call and ask what she’d done. He didn’t even think about it, really. It wasn’t exactly a unique experience. He didn’t bother with getting a vasectomy for years- until he did.
Women threw themselves at him, and they’d stay until they were serviceably dicked out, and then take whatever goodies he’d thrown money away on for them and leave. Whatever. It was a bottomless resource, just like money. And weed. And booze. And coke.
He was big on coke, but he watched how much he used it. Made sure he never needed it. Rehab seemed like a fucking headache and a half. Concerts were a blur. Interviews were a drag. If he was alive, he didn’t really feel like it, but it was a helluva lot better than feeling like it.
The more time passed, the less he wrote the songs they played. He’d run out of ideas, but his bandmates wrote good shit, too, so. Whatever.
His parents called maybe two, three times a year. Brotherly affection be damned, Ben didn’t call at all.
He was a hotshot lawyer with good old Uncle Luke- the one Kylo hated, the one Ben idolized. Luke had been absent for all of their childhood, sending amazing presents at Christmas and birthdays.
Kylo was fucking tired.
They were twenty-seven when they saw each other again- his manager had told him Ben wanted a ticket to the show that TKOR was playing in New York, and Kylo gave it to him. He didn’t catch sight of him in the crowd, but there was no chance in hell that noise-sensitive, timid Benny boy would be caught dead in the mosh pit of a rock concert, anyway. Kylo was uniquely sober for that concert, and he was almost surprised to find it sucked ass that way.
Oh, well. Now he knew to keep avoiding it in the future.
He did find Ben afterwards, though, waiting for him. He was sitting on a sofa in Kylo’s room backstage, pinching the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.
Long gone were the days of Benny in ill-fitting khaki shorts and random good-boy sweaters that Leia had picked out for him. Ben was wearing a bespoke three piece suit- the blazer and trousers were silver and almost shimmered in the light, his vest and tie were damask velvet and royal blue, and his dress shirt was a pale shade of blue. His hair was shorter than Kylo’s but still somewhat long, and his face was as clean-shaven as it had been since the twins had started growing any facial hair at all.
Kylo glanced down at his own outfit. Black leather pants and a red muscle shirt, a few necklaces dangling from his neck, some bracelets on each arm and two rings on his fingers. He had one garish earring. His hair brushed his shoulders and he had a messy goatee. It wasn’t his taste, but the women on Twitter who used his pictures as their headers and icons sure loved it.
Red and blue. A total coincidence. It left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Hey, stranger,” Kylo said, drawing Ben’s attention. Kylo walked over to his chair to start gingerly plucking off his jewelry.
“Hello,” Ben said. Just like always, the low baritone that should have been identical to his own sounded almost foreign to his own ears. Ben was poised and proper and polite; Kylo was raw and reedy and booming. “You did good.”
“Yeah? Didn’t figure that to be your kinda shit.”
Ben pursed his lips in something resembling distaste, eyeing the floor. “The concert is not, admittedly,” Ben said. “But the music is good. I grew up on Lynyrd Skynyrd and Queen, too.”
That much was true. Kylo plucked the earring out last and dropped it from a small distance onto the other jewelry. “How’s shilling for rich fucks all day, everyday?”
Ben pursed his lips. “As draining as I’d figured it would be, but it pays far more handsomely. How’s being a rich fuck?”
Kylo barked out a laugh. “It’s shit. Who knew coke and cunt couldn’t quite fill the lonely?”
He hadn’t been expecting to admit that, but he played it off all the same. Ben’s eyes found his reflection, but Kylo avoided them.
He had a quiet, pensive look. Sympathetic. He looked just as tired and lonely as Kylo felt.
… It had been all he wanted, as a pissy little preteen, to make Ben just as miserable as himself. So why did it only make him feel more desolate?
Ben got up and Kylo felt his shoulders tense despite himself.
Words that echoed through Kylo’s head constantly.
Ben set a hand on either of Kylo’s shoulders and squeezed softly. “I miss you,” he barely breathed.
Kylo scowled. “Yeah? They ain’t got phones here in NYC?”
“Do they have them in L.A.?”
Kylo only glowered at Ben through the mirror, a warning. Ben clapped into Kylo’s shoulders a few times in gentle acquiescence, then walked back to the sofa.
“How long are you in town? We should grab drinks.”
“That was the last show on this tour,” he said. “As long or as short as I want my stay to be.”
Ben nodded, sitting down and expertly adjusting his suit. “Alright. Do you have my number?”
“Is it the same as it was in high school?”
“No,” Ben said with a frown.
… Kylo’s was. He scowled slightly. “Well, then, no, I don’t.”
“Is yours? What if someone from school leaks-?”
“Shut the fuck up, Dad. Eat my fuckin’ ass.”
“Fine,” Ben said in an even, unbothered voice.
Kylo turned to scowl. “Do you remember that fuckin’ night, lightweight?”
Kylo was on his feet in a moment, and then loomed over Ben. “On your fucking knees, then.”
Ben… Slipped onto his fucking knees. He loosened his tie considerably.
Kylo actively shut his mind off and fumbled with the stupid fucking leather.
“I’ve never done this,” Ben said. “Just a warning.”
“Never sucked your twin brother’s cock? I hope not- I think I’d remember it. Unless we’re triplets and Mommy and Daddy never bothered to mention it to me.”
Ben pursed his lips as Kylo shoved the waistband down not three inches below his growing bulge. Kylo was actively fighting off any rational thoughts. “I’ve never sucked any cock,” Ben said, voice… Almost conversational. “So, if it sucks- that would be why.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kylo snarled, shoving his briefs down. “And get your brother’s fat fucking cock in your- mouth…” Kylo groaned the last word, head tipping back as Ben wrapped his lips around the tip of Kylo’s dick.
Kylo thrust forward and Ben grunted, brow furrowing. “You can take fucking more than that, Benny. Come on. Choke on it- let me feel you fuckin’ gag on it.”
Ben grabbed Kylo’s hips and experimentally worked more cock into his mouth. Kylo was taken with the sight of Ben’s focus as he swallowed more of his cock. His eyes were closed and his head turned very slightly back and forth.
Ben bobbed his head and Kylo thrusted lightly. He buried his fingers in hair that felt so different from his own- thicker, silkier, straighter. When Ben pulled back to breathe, Kylo set his foot on the cushion and guided Ben’s lips to his sack. “Suck my balls, Benny- fuck. More tongue- fuck, that’s good. Yeah, bitch, just like that- fuck…”
Kylo could tell Ben had never done this before, but he seemed to grasp the concept fairly well and learn very quickly.
“Eat my ass,” Kylo urged, leaning forward towards his foot on the couch, urging Ben’s mouth back.
“Better have fucking showered,” Ben grumbled.
Kylo scowled. “Of course I fucking- shut the fuck up, bitch, and put that fucking tongue on my asshole- fuck. There you fucking go.”
Ben reached up to grip both of Kylo’s thighs as he rimmed him, every once in a while letting a soft grunt or groan slip out. Kylo was a lot fucking louder, spitting filth and praise in turn, hissing and groaning and grunting.
When Kylo grew tired of that, he shoved Ben’s head away. “Bend the fuck over, chest bare and fancy fucking pants around your ankles.”
Ben pulled back and rose gracefully to his feet, looking casually debonair despite the bulge in his pants. Kylo went fishing for his lube while Ben shrugged off his jacket, then his vest. He lost his tie, then his button-down, then the white t-shirt beneath. He undid his belt and opened his pants, dropping them and his boxers to his ankles. He kneeled on spread knees pressed into the cushions of the couch, settling his arm on the back of it and his temple on his arm.
His ass was spread, his hole exposed. It was almost strikingly pink against the porcelain of his skin. Kylo lubed himself up, taking in the sight of Ben’s strong back, and his handsome and almost sleepy expression.
“Are you gonna fuck me or not, Ky?” Ben asked after a moment.
Kylo scowled and stalked forward, and Ben jumped slightly when he sprayed a stream of cold lube onto his asshole. The younger twin worked Ben’s ass open with one finger, then two, then three, until Ben was groaning and gently rocking into Kylo’s rough, unceremonious attentions.
“Tight fucking ass,” he grumbled. “Pretty little fucking hole- fuck, Benny, you look so good, offering yourself up to me like this. Twenty-seven fucking years, and I finally get some of that brotherly affection you’re bursting with.”
Ben gave a warning scowl of his own, and after nearly a decade of distance, Kylo was surprised to see it now carried any weight at all.
Little Benny wasn’t such a fucking nerd anymore, at least.
Kylo added a bit more lube to Ben’s ass as well as his own cock, then notched at his entrance.
“Use a fucking con-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kylo snarled, sinking in.
Both men groaned at the same time. Ben’s eyes closed, jaw tightening, and Kylo could feel him struggling not to tense up around his brother’s cock. Kylo felt like some hot, wet, perfect little vice had clamped itself right onto his cock. He grabbed one of Ben’s hips in one hand, and his shoulder in the other, and sank in halfway before pulling almost all of the way out and slamming back in, balls deep.
“Fuck,” Ben gasped, walls fluttering. “Calm the fuck down, that- it fucking hurt.”
“Sorry, Benny,” Kylo grumbled, just grinding into his twin. He leaned forward and peppered Ben’s shoulders with kisses. “You feel so fucking good, Ben. Fuck.”
Ben reached up, grabbing Kylo’s hand and dragging him more soundly into his back, leaning back to brush their cheeks together.
“Fucking huge,” Ben mumbled. “Fuck.”
Kylo slunk his arms around Ben, finding and teasing his nipples. Ben hissed in a breath, brow knitting. “Yeah, Benny? My cock’s so fucking huge in your tight little virgin ass?”
“Yes,” Ben said. Kylo could just barely see his cock twitch, dangling over the cushions. Kylo let one hand continue to twist and tug at a nipple, spitting on his other hand and wrapping it around Ben’s cock. He groaned and bucked his hips forward, then slowly slid them back, fucking himself on Kylo’s cock.
Kylo moved to kneel on the couch, too, shoving Ben up further. He stroked Ben’s cock slowly at first, dictating how Ben moved his hips and learning just how to elicit each jerk, each groan, each shudder. Kylo was close to coming by the time he was pumping Ben’s cock with haste and vigor, and Ben was fucking Kylo’s hand and then slamming his ass back into Kylo’s hips in turn.
It was so fucking good.
Kylo’s other hand stopped moving between nipples to bury itself in Ben’s hair and yank his head back. “Gonna fuck this ass full of come,” he panted. “And I’m gonna suck you off as it leaks back out of you.”
Ben nodded, eyes firmly closed, face awash with lust. He still looked sleepy- and almost frustrated. He was frowning, but the better Kylo made him feel, the deeper the frown got.
Kylo turned Ben’s face towards his and kissed him. Ben grunted in surprise, then kissed him back. When Kylo was on the cusp of an orgasm, their tongues were making figure-eights between their mouths.
Kylo grunted and thrust forward into Ben as he felt himself unload, leaning in to kiss his brother with far more insistence than he had before. He kept thrusting until he was done, then a few more times to keep it packed inside, before pulling back and yanking Ben around, shoving him onto his ass on the couch.
Kylo had never sucked a guy off before, either, but he’d sucked off a few girls in his time- trans girls, mostly, and one girl who’d detransitioned but had a cock.
This was a lot fucking different than that, though. Kylo, and therefore Ben, had the biggest fucking cock Kylo’d seen that wasn’t edited out the ass, and it was firm and masculine and looked thoroughly harsh, blunt, unapologetic.
Kylo spat several times, using his hand to coat Ben’s length, then shoved his head down as far as he could bear to and began bobbing, sucking, slurping, moving his tongue.
“Christ,” Ben gasped suddenly, grabbing Kylo’s hair. “Ky- oh, yes…”
Kylo reached down to fondle Ben’s giant fucking balls, identical to his own. He seemed to have a fair few of the same unique interests, too- pinching, tugging, squeezing…
Okay, Kylo didn’t actually know how unique that was, to be fair, but he revelled in it all the same.
“I’m gonna come,” said Ben in a strained voice not terribly long after, and Kylo groaned and nodded into his cock. Carefully, he managed to work it all the way into his throat-
And then, Ben came. Kylo chugged the bitter seed that followed, looking up through narrowed eyes to watch as Ben’s head tipped back against the couch, eyes closed but fluttering. It was, perhaps, the first time Kylo had seen him look truly relaxed since they were really fuckin’ little.
When Ben’s cock started to soften in Kylo’s mouth, he finally pulled away and gasped in a breath, sitting on his heels.
“Fifty bucks says Dad’s having a stroke as we speak.”
Ben’s eyes fluttered open as he frowned. “You talk too fucking much.”
Kylo pushed on Ben’s knee to rise to his feet, then adjusted his pants. “I’m staying at Gramercy Park. You look like me- say you forgot your card, act all pissed off, maybe through a plant at a painting. They’ll let you up, or it’ll be really fucking funny to me.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “What room?”
“Fuck if I know. Ask Mitaka.”
Ben set his jaw, then began slowly redressing. “Fine.”
That continued for a long time. Whenever Kylo was in New York; the rare occurrence that Ben was sent to California for work; the one time they’d both been in London at the same time.
They were thirty-one when they decided that they needed a change. They were thirty-eight when they finally got it, finding themselves on set to film their movie. Starring Kylo Ren, directed by Ben Solo, written by both of them.
It was the talk of the world, really. Heartthrob modern marvel Kylo Ren starring in a movie- directed by his fancy ex-attorney, thought-to-be-estranged brother Benjamin Solo.
Ben stalked into Kylo’s changing room to see the younger twin finishing a blunt. Ben scowled, setting his hands on his hips as he always did when he was annoyed. Kylo glanced over in mock interest, then offered the blunt. Ben’s scowl deepened.
“Put that out-”
“And take off your fucking pants,” Ben snarled, opening his own.
Kylo wavered, then glanced at the clock. They were three minutes late already.
Fuck it, sure.
Kylo put out the blunt and got up, loosening the bottoms of his costume and leaned over the futon. He wrestled with the drawer of the nightstand until Ben yanked it open and grabbed the lube. Ben was not as patient nor as infuriatingly slow as he normally was; he squeezed lube so quickly that the nozzle hissed, and took no hesitation to quickly lather up Kylo’s asshole that hadn’t quite managed to tighten back up since he and Ben had started working on the movie thing. Three quick strokes of Ben’s cock later, he was notched at Kylo’s entrance and slid right in.
“Always on your own fucking schedule,” Ben snarled, fast and hard and sure and even with his rhythm. Kylo groaned and relaxed fully as the weed really started kicking in. “Always more fucking concerned about three seconds of fucking pleasure than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing…”
Kylo’s eyes rolled back as Ben located his prostate and began stroking it with each unforgiving thrust.
Ben always made Kylo come just by fucking him. Kylo had to finish Ben off with his mouth.
That being said, Kylo was much better at foreplay, so.
For once, something in their lives felt even, equal.
That, and the movie- Ben was responsible, and smart, quick on his feet, good at problem solving. Kylo was creative and wicked and passionate. They worked damn well together and they got shit done.
If only they weren’t twins- if only they’d stayed as one fucking body way back when they were still in Leia’s guts- they might have had a chance to feel like a whole, complete person without burying a cock into the other’s hole.
Not that Kylo was complaining about getting railed by a massive fucking cock every other day, or having a tight fucking ass to bury himself into the rest of the time.
They came at the same time, just like they usually did. Ben painted Kylo’s insides and Kylo painted the futon, both groaning and grunting in tandem.
Ben recovered quickly, standing up and cleaning things up well enough, tucking himself away. He snarled as he fixed Kylo’s costume, then dragged his brother towards the door.
Kylo was sure he was upright and exuding his usual confident swagger before Ben could even open the door.
Let her rip, baby. Hit me with your best shot.