Disorder Ch. 05

Ah... Now, that was better. Donnie smirked, more callously this time, and moaned in the back of his throat, the sound seeming to rise up from deep inside him, more primal than anything else that he could have ever have thought to produce before. He wasn't thinking about putting on a show and that in itself was comforting as there was no one there to make a joke or a comment if he did something strange, allowing him to fill his brother's mouth and hiss through his teeth as much as he pleased, a muscle jumping in the tension at the corner of his jaw. Oh, how much he needed a good cock-sucking, even if John wasn't exactly the right person to provide that kind of stimulation!

It wasn't enough, however, not for a man who had been pent up for so long, kept on the bottom and getting off with a cock rammed up his backdoor -- not that that was a bad thing all the time, of course. Just there was nothing wrong with a little variety either now, was there? Saliva clung to his cock in a dripping string as he drew back, mesmerised by how his brother's lips seemed much paler in comparison as he pulled away, imagining something more, even though painting his face with cum just didn't seem right either. He pushed himself on, cock throbbing for that lick of wet sensation once more, John clawing and scrambling very, very slowly at the floor as if he was about to return to the true semblance of the waking world once more.

Donnie's heart leapt into his throat. He didn't have much time before John would come around -- fuck, he was up on all the drugs! He had some resistance to that! He paused for the briefest of moments to allow himself to be impressed by the fact that he was still sound enough in his own mind to recognise that (at least he had not been so stupid as to render himself so incapacitated that he could not even talk or stand -- not that time), turning John over onto his front as his brother groaned. Mumbling something incoherent, John tried to get his palms on the floor, beneath his body, but he was not in a position of strength to push himself up, hardly even aware of what was going on.

Breathing heavily, Donnie splattered a cold dose of lube onto his brother's backside, perhaps for the first time in his life. He didn't ask questions like that of John but he did hold his breath as he shoved one finger and then a second into John's anal ring, spreading his apart and working in the lubricant. If he hurt his brother, well, that was a sure fire way to get himself fucked up real good, some twisted part of his mind liking that idea. Perhaps another time he could push his luck in that way, for he was already going well enough out on a limb right there and then, pushing limits that he had not even considered being in place simply because they had always been part of the background scenery.

Working his hand along the length of his cock, he could have lost himself in sensation, everything appearing sharper and clearer than before, the taste of vodka stark in the back of his mouth. He would have thought that the liquor would have dulled sensation but it was completely the opposite with something more potent coursing through him, imagining briefly that his pupils were surely dilated and straining, hungry for something that, so far, had been denied to him. His shaft pulsed in his hand, drooling pre-cum thickly and viscously, more than he could have expected himself to produce, his body telling him, quite clearly, that he had no choice in the option.

Like with John, he always had to fall prey to something else, if not the someone that was his own 'loving' brother.

A cushion shoved at the wrong angle, jabbing up into John's stomach, helped a bit but Donnie could not slow himself, could not even think of stopping himself as he lined himself up, already putting his weight behind the first thrust as he pressed the head of his cock wantonly up to his brother's anal ring. The pucker tensed as if John was going to force him out at first but Donnie knew that it would always give in -- it always had with him, at least. And John groaned too as he was spread open, whatever was in his system clearly dulling everything enough to cover up the pain, although he could have been too far gone to register that either. That was fine too, in its way. Payback for a slight should always come with a little wondering as to whether or not there was something more lurking beneath the surface, coming into play at the most opportune of times. After all, that was just how the two of them best conducted their business together and in their lives apart.

But Donnie couldn't let his mind wander as raw sensation buffeting him, threatening to overwhelm as stars leapt and danced beneath his eyes, which suddenly found themselves closed without any sense of conscious thought. How long had it been? It was good that his body knew what to do, thrusting into that tightness, because his mind locked down, lips parted in a dark 'O' of pleasure that only a moan could possibly put voice too. His glutes tensed, trousers off at some point, just in a T-shirt -- yet that was not going to matter. Dark circles dampened the fabric beneath his arms but he was only concerned with the here and the now, looking down the length of his shaft disappearing into his brother's backside as if watching someone else do it.

But it was him, all him, and he was about to reap the rewards of sensation from it, head spinning and each panting breath coming right along with a moan too for good measure. There was no way to hold himself back as he trusted the awkwardly crammed pillow, cushion...thing to hold up his brother at something like the right angle, animalistic, primal need taking over his mind. His hips worked automatically as he leaned over John, balancing himself on one hand as his hair hung down around his face, tangles evident, although he was by no means striving to hide his face or his features in the slightest. No! There was no one there to see him and, god damn it, he was going to have what he wanted from John this time!

And it was as divine as he'd imagined, waking up from dreams in which he'd been bold enough and brave enough to take his brother in that way and knowing that he'd never be able to in real life. He hadn't even been stupid enough to bother with asking the question, already knowing what the answer was -- and yet the reality of it was so much sweeter as he ploughed into John, his brother shifting beneath him, coming back to sobriety more and more with each and every powerful thrust. Chest tight, he gasped and fought for each and every breath, lips stretched into a lurid grin that would have rendered him completely and utterly a fool if he had had the space in his head to consider just what shit he was getting into.

Yet few men would be able to stop fucking once they'd begun and Donnie was, most certainly, no different, if not a lesser man by any stretch of the imagination. He would keep going, instinct and the need of his body taking over as he grunted and groaned, hammering into a backside that was slightly more giving with each desperate thrust he gave. Pleasure clung to him like a shroud that he would not want to cast off, a heady aroma that sank into his lungs, the smoke of a drug that brought only the most wholesome of highs. But what was the point even in a wholesome high when there was so much to partake in, pounding his brother for all he was worth? Perhaps the fact that they were related took away what may have been clean and pure and wholesome from it but it was hard, so very hard, to think about it as anything other than fucking awesome when John's arse squeezed around him in that way.

John shifted, pushing himself up halfway, blinking rapidly. The fall of his hair across his cheek, half-loose from his out of character ponytail would have shielded his glassy expression if Donnie had not been so far over him, practically breathing down the back of his neck. But John was not so far into reality that he could do anything about his predicament, sensation crashing over him as he was stretched and fucked, every driving thrust seeming to hit right up against his prostate in such a way that he could not help but moan out himself too, forced to bear through it while his brother well and truly got his just desserts out of the illicit liaison. It was fair payback, after all, considering the number of times that Donnie had been pinned and forced down, fucked and taken whether he had actually consented to it or not -- yet the more submissive of them always seemed to find himself coming back for more. It was funny how things like that worked.

Urgency coursed through Donnie, yet the alcohol dulled his own system, forcing him to hold out for longer than, naturally, he would have done. He could hump and grind and pound as much as he liked but the real problem in the matter swiftly became holding onto John as he cursed under his breath, movements becoming increasingly erratic. Growling through clenched teeth, Donnie threw himself desperately into each and every thrust, pounding with the full length of his shaft as if he could not possibly bear to leave even a single inch untouched, clad in only the cool air outside his brother's anal passage. He only had so much time to sate himself, hair clinging damply to the back of his neck with sweat, and panted as if he was in the middle of the most gruelling race of his life as his hips worked like they'd never worked before.

John swore and rocked back against Donnie, nearly throwing him off as Donnie howled out his climax, a breathless sort of sound that didn't seem quite right coming from his lips. Was that what it was like to top? Maybe he'd have to do it again, try again, just some more research... Yes... But his mind wavered and rose on the swell of orgasm, cock pulsing to deliver a shockingly thick load of cum right up into his waking brother's passage, as uncaring for John's pleasure as he had been about his when the roles, as they so often were, were reversed.

The bliss of orgasm should have been something to be enjoyed, even revered, but there was nothing sensual in how John clenched and squeezed down around his shaft, throwing his body back as he 'reared' up onto his knees, demoted to the status of a mere animal. But it was not animalistic thrill glinting in his dark eyes but something altogether more sinister as Donnie threw an arm around his neck, clinging on for dear life even as his hips worked and ground without conscious thought or direction, intent only on one thing that could very well prolong the inevitable.

"You fucking bastard!"

The words didn't seem strong enough to convey his fury at Donnie for what he had dared to do but the vein pulsing in his temple, eyes near enough popping out of his skull, at least told the tale that his spluttered words could not. With a strangled roar, he launched himself at Donnie, hands grabbing and groping and reaching for his throat: there was only one outcome possible to that scenario.

Shoulder slammed into the floor. Vision black. Hands around his throat, pressing, choking. His cock still hard, spurting cum that only seemed to throb even harder and more viscously, slick on his stomach. Everything blurred, his glasses knocked askew, but that was not something that was going to concern John as he squeezed, pressing down and digging in, cutting off any meagre jot of air supply that he may very well have thought he deserved to have. Maybe this was it and he really had gone and pushed John too far, destined to reach a bitter, gasping end on the floor of his own living room, cock still aching with the sweet release of climax. All in all, Donnie could not have seen it as a bad way to go, if he was even being asked about it himself, of course.

But John didn't want to go that far, even though surely the ache and soreness in his backside told a tale that, undoubtedly, warranted a far more brutal revenge than the one that Donnie had chanced to take. Releasing his throat, John grunted and wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, Donnie gasping and heaving for breath beneath him, eyes bulging out and hips trying to thrust up as he lay on his back, knees bent as if he was just about to push himself up again. But stealing the air from someone's lungs had a certain effect too, energy sapped and strength gone as if it had never even been present to begin with, lolling about on the floor with his limbs so weak and floppy that he was rendered as useless as someone who had actually consumed a cocktail of illegal substances not that long before. Yet the tables had surely been turned and, well, comeuppance had to be had one way or another.

And John was not done yet, eyes seeming to darken dangerously, although he was but a blurred figure above Donnie as he fought for breath, mouth a gaping, dark hole. Slowly and deliberately, John turned his head to the side and spat, though neither of them bothered waiting to see where it landed, Donnie's heart leaping and pounding so frantically that the vibrations seemed to pulse viciously, travelling aggressively through his chest. Upside down above him, John could have appeared comical under other circumstances, but these were very, very different circumstances and there was no way that John was appearing anything other than deadly serious.

His eyes narrowed. Donnie caught his breath.

"You're going to fucking regret this..."

And Donnie knew he would, although he hated too just how his heart leapt to hear those words, still striving and struggling to fight back as his hands once again wrapped around his throat. John knew just how hard he had to press to get Donnie doing just what he wanted him to but that didn't stop Donnie from writhing and twisting and even trying to bite, fighting back in every last primal way that his oxygen-deprived brain could think up. He howled brokenly, knowing that he was beat and yet relishing the fight all the same, cock softening even as his need rose tenfold.

On the bottom... Well, in their twisted relationship, that was just where he was supposed to be, whether he accepted it or not. He didn't want to control, even though it had been a nice sensation for a while. Where, however, was the fun in 'nice' when 'sensational' was an option? There was no sense at all in coasting on cannabis when cocaine, of course, was an option and that too was just why Donnie sank his teeth into the path he'd chosen for himself so vehemently, the world greying out around him as his weakening fingers slipped from John's wrists.

He would never have succeeded in pushing him off, in all fairness. He just wanted to try.

Hiked up. Hitched up like a smaller person, just Small Donnie all over again. His chest shuddered and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he was breathing again, if not freely, something tight around his throat. But that could not be right either as John's hands were quite firmly on his body, heaving under his arms as he spat out a swear and slammed him down over the arm of the sofa, hanging there limply and hopelessly.

It was nice to be that kind of hopeless sometimes too. Just sometimes.

"Fucking..."

But whatever else John had to say was lost as what Donnie abruptly came to understand with a shivering shock of realisation was his belt tightened around his neck. The leather dug in, cool material warming to the feel of his neck, caressing and sweetening even as it denoted dominance. It was reassuring as much as it was terrifying in equal and opposite measures, biting as it was yanked back by a much stronger hand than any one that Donnie could possibly hope to boast. He had no grip strength and had no desire either to cultivate it, sparing his talents for technological means, as was his aptitude. Whereas that left him vulnerable, he knew just why he kept John around in part, although it was still very much up for debate whether or not John would actually get him out of a sticky situation if such an opportunity did present itself to play the hero.

No... Yes. No. Maybe. It was hard to think as his cock tried to throb up hard and full once more, backside rudely and crudely thrust up for his brother's attention, although all that John intended to get from him was raw pleasure. After all, had it not been taken from him so forcibly? Struggling to keep enough breath in his lungs to retain consciousness, Donnie could not make his body relax as the somehow hard head of John's shaft ground up insistently to his anal ring, demanding entry. And just why wouldn't he too? He didn't care about lube or making it easier for Donnie, just like he had not each and every time that had gone before. The sweetness of that deal, still left unsaid, was that Donnie didn't care one bit about things like that either.

Let it hurt.

And it did -- more than he would admit, clenching his jaw and sealing away his groans as he alternated between striving to tuck his chin down to his chest, bent over the arm of the sofa like some kind of lewd offering, and raise his head to stop the belt from digging in even further. Where it was around his throat, it could not put pressure on the exact points that John had used with his nasty, groping fingers to swiftly cut off his breath, yet even the prospect of a slow choke that rendered him unconsciousness in slippery greyness where he could not control what was happening to him or even his body at all. He would not give up control but, with John, he most certainly would not put up very much of a fight, no more than a mere pretence, a show, rather gladly too as his shaft rammed into him, forcing him painfully open in a shock of hurt that rang through his being like a lance.

He'd had it before but he still ground his teeth together and fought to bear through it the best he could, too tense to enjoy as John took his pleasure, not having forgotten what had transpired before. Whereas, for a normal couple, makeup sex may have been the name of the game, it was revenge sex that really got John's blood boiling, which Donnie knew well enough. If he hadn't been so set on that little bit of revenge for himself too, maybe he wouldn't have found himself in such a horrifically delectable position also, grunting thickly in the back of his throat as he tried not to show how much it fucking hurt, his body betraying him and, finally, relaxing just enough to ease the tension.

Only, that set in a different kind of tension too as John snarled and spat, wrenching the belt back so viciously that any sane man would have been sure that he was about to break their neck. Donnie only moaned -- or, at least, he would have moaned if he'd not had his throat constricted to the point where all he could do was gape helplessly and hopelessly, the prey caught in John's trap. Skewered on his shaft, he raced to get his feet under him, his bare feet finding at least a little purchase in the carpet that hardly saw any wear or passage of shoes.

More... No. No. He could not think of what he wanted, imagining instead that he loathed what was happening to him. It would have been a hard case for him to argue, however, eyes rolling back into his skull as that cock ploughed him as full as he'd always wanted to be, his brother intent on claiming him, taking his revenge in the best way possible. Truly, it was the only way that John would take his revenge, since blood and sweat was not really his forte, the seeding of cum a much more carnal method, in his opinion, to tame his brother. Donnie still could not have truly said just how 'with it' John was, however, snarling and growling like a wild animal as he yanked on the belt like a crude sort of leash, Donnie ensnared and not even begging for mercy.

He would last longer: of that, Donnie was quite sure. There was too much, far too much, in John's system to get him off too quickly and the way that Donnie's heart turned over into the pit of his stomach, sinking and leaping nauseatingly, was something that he would have vehemently denied, even if he was teased about it. He'd been called a bitch and a cock-sucker -- it wasn't as if John had any respect for those who, well, weren't him. But there was still something about being beneath a figure that was powerful but not, could take power that he just didn't quite yet understand, someone who would not spread a tale of how he could be fucked and pinned down and taken yet would still lord it over him in private.