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The Trouble of It All

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"Fuck!" James hissed, chin falling to his chest. Al could suck cock like no other. "Fuck," he gasped again, watching his brother's lips pull and stretch around his dick, wet with his cum. His hips gave an involuntary jerk at the thought, and Al's throat clenched and shuddered around his dick as it pushed too deep. The younger boy pulled off, coughing. "Sorry," he said insincerely, hands already at Al's face, pulling his mouth back.

"Just wait a second," Al gasped, covering James' hands with his own. "I'm not—" he broke off with another set of coughs, then gave a shuddering sigh, one hand wrapping around the erection bobbing just in front of his face, leaning down to rub it against his lips.

"Let me fuck you, Al. Just--fuck, come on!" He had to plead, had to get his brother to do something because he was so fucking hard and—

"Oh," Al said, his voice all breathy and hot in a way that James just knew his little brother's voice shouldn't sound. "Yeah, yeah," he said, licking the slick droplets of precum from his lips as he sat back, spreading his legs open and leaning against the head of the bed.

"Yeah, okay," James grinned shakily, shifting closer on his knees until he could fall between Al's open legs. He'd only fucked Al once, during the last Christmas holiday from school, but they'd both been high on the gillyweed that Scorpius had brought over. Six months later, he was still having wet dreams about his brother's ass. Al laid back lazily, propped up against the pillows that James threw haphazardly on his bed everyday. He looked so relaxed, but his cock was a furious red, and James knew he had to be hurting for it. He grabbed one of his brother's slim, pale legs from behind the knee and pushed it back, eyes locking on his hole. His dick jerked, and he thumbed the quivering pucker with his free hand, stroking gently.

Al let out a low whine, bucking against James' teasing hand. "Quit that and fuck me, you asshole," he ground out, eyes shut tight.

"You've done this?" The with someone else? was left unspoken, dangerous territory.

"You bastard," Al muttered, breathing hard as James pushed a thumb against his hole hard, just barely pushing in before drawing back out. "No, I fucking haven't," he said desperately, but he looked like he wanted it too bad so James stopped altogether. "James, James, you fucking prick, I haven't!" Al cried out, grabbing his brother's shoulders and pulling him closer before he could pull away. One hand went to his big brother's cock, stroking it just barely. "Just me," he continued so quietly that James had to lean his ear right up to Al's mouth just to hear. "It's been just me. My hands, you know," he finished awkwardly, pulling away, hand and all.

"What do you—your hands?" James almost flinched at how high his voice went there, but he shook it off. "Like, your fingers? Like that?"

"It's what you did, right?" Al's face was bright red, and he pulled his knees to his chest in embarrassment. James almost felt bad for a second before he caught sight of his brother's cock looking just painfully hard as before bobbing in and out of sight between his barely parted thighs. "When we, when you—it felt good when you did it, so I didn't want to stop."

"So you just—you just fucked yourself, then?" James asked, feeling his mouth go dry at the image. "You fucked yourself on your fingers and came? Because it's what I did to you?"

"I can't come without it anymore," Al ducked his head between his knees. James grinned so wide his face felt like it was going to split, but it didn't matter because Al

"So you can't come until you play with your ass, eh?" He pushed against Al again, prying his knees apart and settling between them. "Need something in you to finish off? Well, all right then," he breathed heavily, more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. "Let's see if big brother can't help you there."

Al inhaled sharply as James reached across him, fumbling with his bedside drawer to pull out the crumbled, half-empty tube of lube and squeezed a big glob of it onto Al's stomach. "What are you—James?"

"Fuck, keep talking," the air around them was so heavy and so hot, and James was drowning in it, watching his hands scoop up the goo and smear it all over his fingers like he was watching a movie. He locked eyes with Al's, watching his brother's face as he pushed his index finger in to the knuckle, watching the younger boy's mouth twist and his jaw clench as he curled it tightly, pumping in and out. "Keep talking," he repeated, voice faint and broken from the intensity of the moment.

"You—I love this," Al murmured, curling his legs up and onto James' shoulders, his inner muscles clenching reflexively at the movement. James almost stopped moving altogether at the admission, shaking his head sharply instead and shoving another two fingers in. Al jerked and clenched and let out the sort of groan that wet dreams are made of. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Al cried out softly, head falling back and eyes falling closed.

"You aren't"—James fucked him with those three fingers as hard a could, twisting them and spreading them, and he could just fucking tell how often Al must have been fucking himself—"You aren't supposed to like it that much," he ground out, pulling his fingers free with a sloppy squelch, watching Al's hands fly up in response, scooping a handful of the lube and slathering it all over his dick. He was so eager, and James couldn't say no, not to this.

"I know," Al breathed, legs dropping down to James' waist, urging him in, "I know, I won't tell, I won't say anything—"

"You'd better fucking not," he growled, pushing the head into Al's cleft, sliding it up and down just to hear another of those breathy little gasps. "You better just—fuck—" He pushed in, felt the exact moment that his cock breached that slippery ring of muscle and slid home.

Al's legs clenched tighter, his mouthing giving a constant, garbled stream of yes yes yes and oh, fuck, James over and over, his breath hitching with every thrust.

"Don't fucking say anything," James heard himself say, but he couldn't even say why anymore, didn't know when the hell a blowjob here and there had become this thing that was always hanging over them, hot and heavy like their bedroom air. Al just shook his head, disagreeing or agreeing, he didn't even know, but it didn't matter now. He could fuck Al forever, and nothing else would matter, not a damn thing—

"James," Al said tightly, fingers claws against his shoulders, biting into the skin hard, "James, fuck, I need—"

"Yeah, I know," James muttered, thrusts picking up and his hands pushing harder, one slamming Al's knee almost to his shoulder, the other biting with bruising force into a pale hip. "I know what you need—" And he did. His hips bucked hard, once more, twice more. "Jerk yourself," he ordered sharply, watching Al's hand tug at his red, swollen dick, watching it twitch at the attention until the little droplets spilling out became a steady eruption, spurting on his chest and on Al's stomach and hand, and Al's ass clenched hard around his dick, sucking him in. "Fuck," he gasped one last time, letting himself be pulled in, his entire body shuddering hard at the force of his orgasm. His vision went black, and all he could hear were Al's shaky little gasps as cum flooded his insides.

When his body finally melted into the afterglow and he managed to open his eyes, Al's sweat-drenched black hair and bright green eyes stole his focus for another minute.

"You okay?" Al asked quietly, minutes after James had collapsed on top of him with his forehead resting on his shoulder.

"I guess," he said after a moment, moving to sit back, moving away from Al. His softened dick slipped out, slapping against his thigh wetly. Al exhaled sharply at the sudden movement but said nothing. "I need a shower."


"You all right?" The heaviness from before had cleared leaving the air chilled and awkward. Al wouldn't look at him, and James didn't know, didn't want to think about, what that could mean.

"I'm fine," Al shrugged, shifting out of bed and standing gingerly. "Gonna head to bed, I think."

"Yeah," James said, the word slipping from his mouth numbly, his lips dry. "I need a shower."

"You said that already." Al's lips quirked up in one of his strange half-smiles. James wanted to reach out and smooth the lines on his brother's forehead, pull his cheeks until he was smiling wide and ridiculous, but his hands fell short, resting on his thighs.

"Yeah," he said again. Al waited there, staring straight at James for a moment, then turned and left without another word. This was different than last Christmas, than any of the handjobs traded in the broomshed while their dad was listening to Lily whine about being left out. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out where things had changed.

He fell back onto the bed, grimacing as his thigh hit a wet spot. The room reeked of sex, but the reminder wasn't exactly welcome. James' gut twisted uncomfortably as he shifted around under the covers, scowling at the clock, the window, and everything else. Al was gone to his room to do whatever the hell it was he did, and James was stuck sleeping in a drying patch of cum.

He slept fitfully, waking every so often to see that the hour hand had crept from midnight to four, then four to five, then finally to nine. The sun filtered in under the heavy curtains, and the sound of his mother rummaging around in the kitchen as his father shuffled around trying to find his tie or his sock, or whatever it was that he'd lost so he could get in the damn floo, filled the house. James peeled himself from the sheets with a groan of disgust and stumbled from the room.

"Morning." Al was standing in the bathroom, toothbrush at his lips. James just stood there. What should he say? He kept hearing Al gasping and seeing his face, and he wondered what it would take to be able to fuck him again.

Instead he echoed back a gruff morning and stumbled in the bathroom to take a piss and pretend it wasn't suddenly awkward to use the same bathroom as his little brother.

"Sleep well?" Al asked, wiping foam from his lips. The question was innocent, but James' hackles rose in defense of something he didn't understand.

"Of course," he said coolly. Al looked at him curiously for a moment, mouth open slightly as if to speak, and then turned back to the mirror.

"Good for you."

There were no clever retorts that would give James control of this. He couldn't give Al a noogie and then run laughing from the room. Things had changed.

"Go fuck yourself," he muttered, rinsing his hands. Al turned sharply, and James could see the pained look, only to have it disappear not a second later.

"Fine," Al huffed, throwing his toothbrush down exasperatedly. "You're such an idiot, James."

"So's your face," James quipped back, but Al was already gone, his door slamming. That hadn't gone well, James reflected, staring at his brother's closed door. But he still wasn't sure what 'well' entailed, anyway.

"Are you two fighting?"

"Dunno," James said sullenly as his father popped around the corner, staring bemused at Al's door.

"You haven't fought since you were little," Harry said wistfully. "Everything all right?"

You all right? It was what he'd asked Al. Had he sounded as sincere as his father did?

"I don't know," James shrugged. "It's—he's just being stupid."

"Maybe you both are?" Harry suggested with a grin. James scowled. "It happens, son."

Not like this, he thought as his father walked away, whistling as he went down the stairs to floo off. It didn't happen like this. He wasn't supposed to fuck Al and then let his brother talk him into dicking around, literally. He wasn't supposed to take it too far. More than that though, his brother wasn't supposed to want it like Al did. Neither of them were.

Everything was wrong, and James didn't know how to fix it.

Only, he thought after a moment, licking his lips, only he did. Not fix it, but just make things all right. Al could have this, he reasoned with himself as his feet carried him to his brother's room. Al could have him, they could do this for a bit, then they'd go on like normal. People had to have done this before them, brothers. They didn't think it up on their own.

He stopped in front of Al's door and listened for his mother. Lily's voice carried up the stairs from the kitchen, talking about boys and hair whatever other stupid things fourteen year olds talk about. Hand on the knob, he pushed the door open.

"What?" Al snapped moodily, hands clutching a book—textbook, knowing his brother—protectively on his bed.

"How long have you been awake?" James pushed the door closed behind him and pretended not to notice Al swallow.

"I, um, an hour?" Al said hesitantly.

"What kept you up?" His tone was brisk, almost business-like, and James knew it was confusing the hell out of Al. Good, he thought. Let Al be the one who was unsure.

"I just couldn't—" He broke off anxiously, giving James a pleading look. "It was hot," he finished lamely.

"It was hot," James repeated slowly. "That all?"

"What are you doing?" Al bit out. "You can't just—it doesn't go like this, like forgetting it and then bringing it up every five seconds. You can't have all of it, James." Al's face was flushed red, and James kept seeing it like the night before.

"I could," he said slowly, watching Al's face open with shock. "We could."

"You don't mean that?" Al looked him over once, scooting away as he sat down next to him on the bed. "James," he said, a little desperate, a little angry.

"Albus," James said, fighting off a grin unsuccessfully.

"You're mad," Albus said. "Completely off your mind!"

"It's the same as before," he shrugged.

"It's not, James. It's not, and you know it!"

"You just want to make it difficult!"

"Look," Albus said, "it isn't the same. You heard what I said, right? It's all I think about when, when," he stared hard at James. "I haven't dated anyone, since December. Before, it was okay. It was fine to just, you know, help each other out. But what we did, that's—James, it's not the same!"

"So?" James said stubbornly. "Don't be a girl, Al. I can fuck you if I want. We can keep it quiet."

Al laughed then. "You don't even get it, do you?" He asked, incredulous. "You think—No. You know what? Let's just do it," he said.

"Exactly!" James said delightedly. "Wait. I don't get what?"

But Albus was already pushing him back against the bed, eyes darting to the door and back. "Just shut your mouth for a bit. I wanted to do it this way last night, but, well." And then his hands were in James' boxers and coxing his cock out, and Al was breathing up against his it, his lips quirking up as it twitched against his mouth.

"Al," James stared hard at his brother, working the image of thin lips brushing against a half-hard cock into his memory forever. Exactly, he thought with relish as a tongue slid up the length, pressing into the throbbing under-vein. Al could have this whenever. Fuck, Al could go down on him whenever the hell he wanted, just— "Yes," he hissed, head back as his cock hit fully hard with Al sucking at the tip. He was dripping for it, and Al was drinking it down.

"Sometimes," he heard Al murmur against the head of his cock, "sometimes I'm glad you're so thick," and James didn't even bother trying to figure out what that was all about.

"Come on," he muttered, hands twisting into Al's dark hair and pressing his mouth down further on his cock. "Come on."

And then there were footsteps on the stairs, and his mother's voice was carrying into the hall. "…need to let your brothers know—" Al jerked his mouth off his brother's cock, and James bit back a howl of pain as his teeth grazed the sensitive underside. But too little, too late, and Al was tucking James' erection into his pants and pressing a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. James just stared at him, eyes wide, as their mother knocked once and popped her head in.

"Mom," Al scowled at her. "Wait for an answer, at least!"

"Sorry boys," Ginny laughed. "I hope I was interrupting anything?" She was just joking with them, but that didn't stop Al from looking at the floor or James from choking on his own spit. "Your sister and I are heading over to the Burrow. Would you two like to come?"

James really wanted to come, but not to the Burrow, and definitely not around his mother. "No," he said quickly, looking wildly at Al. "We're good."

Al just smiled that same half-smile and nodded along. "Yeah, Mum, we'll be fine here."

"All right, then," Ginny sighed. "I'll tell your grandparents you said hello." She stared at them for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. "You two are all right? Your dad said he thought he heard yelling earlier."

"James was just messing around in the bathroom," Al shrugged. James scowled when his mother merely laughed.

"I see. Well then, you boys behave, all right?" The door closed with a soft click, and they both sat still, listening to their mother and sister walk back down the stairs.

"We should be more careful than that," Al said nervously, hands fisting into the duvet.

"Constant vigilance?" James suggested with a snicker. Al laughed too then, and the atmosphere settled around them. This could work, he thought, watching Al fidget and smile at him from beneath his dark fringe. All he had to do was keep Al from thinking.

No trouble at all.