Disorder Ch. 06

"Fuck... Fuck!"

Well, that was what they were going to do and Donnie's lips moved in constant speech, although he didn't manage to vocalise anything as John clumsily sank home, bringing Donnie's shaft back to unexpected hardness. Ah, it would never fail to surprise him, even in the midst of riding such a high, just how John was able to do that to him, claiming him and slamming in with just the right force and depth to make his cock do that. It was as if, truly, he was just a puppet and John the puppeteer, the master of puppets in his finest hour, controlling all that lay before him in a twisted, broken world, his foot planted into a pile of skulls, the bones of all those who had thought to strike him down.

He'd never be struck down, hammering into his brother as Donnie cried out his lust, head rolling back even as John snarled. What was wrong with him? It was a bad trip, clearly, and not like what he was having, but what the hell was going on? Yet it was hard to cling to that thought and follow it through as wave after wave of pleasure wracked him, sensation ramping up into such an overload that he was seriously under threat of losing control of himself entirely, biting the inside of his cheek with a gnawing grind until the hot spill of metallic blood rushing around his teeth drew him back from the edge, just a little.

Of course, what control did he really think he had? John could pound him to a quick and hasty climax and he wouldn't know what was happening, wouldn't even be able to stop him. Something in Donnie's chest lurched and he matched John's growls with his own even as his brother's thrusts became increasingly urgent, breaths so loud that they nearly drowned out the one who was his prey on the floor, John's nails leaving sharp indents in Donnie's shoulder that would surely take hours on hours to fade.

Yet what came next could not have been expected in any way or pre-mediated, rising up in Donnie's gut with a sickening curl of dread that something had gone horribly, terribly awry at the crux of everything. John's snarl cut through the clamour, the buzz, the thrill, with icy, sickening intent.

"Fuck...you!"

Donnie's eyes snapped open but he was in no such position to defend himself as his brother's hands closed around his throat, bearing down and applying extreme pressure. He only had a moment in which to consider his own word choice in that instant strange -- hey, maybe he possessed even greater intelligence and eloquence when he was high? That was something he'd never thought about before! -- before it all ramped up, darkly so. Sure, they'd trialled choking, pinning and the like before, even if Donnie had never, ever, not even once, given his express permission to do so. The conversation, after the first time, in an illicit relationship, well... It had never seemed that important to have. There'd never been any need to, his certainty in his place and need for something that made him feel alive even if it was taking something away for him -- in his case, taking his control over his own body and placing it, quite firmly, in John's cruel hands. It could be no other way but that didn't stop him from fighting, kicking and writhing like a snake as he howled out too and pushed back with every ounce of strength he had in his body.

He couldn't push up, however, as John's face viciously contorted and he spat in his face, the spittle going wide, thankfully, and landing on the floor instead, even if that was not his immediate concern. No... Donnie's mind was entrapped in the need to breathe, pain searing through his lungs as if it was following the lines of veins, all that carried the blood flow and oxygen from them to where it needed to be. His hand constricted and he closed it on John's forearm, his other one... Where was it? No, it was pinned under John's elbow as he twisted, almost down on the floor himself as even his thrusts slowed, grinding in hard and deep as he bared his teeth.

"Fucking... Fuck..."

But that was all he could get out himself as he choked his brother, Donnie's struggles growing weaker and weaker, panic setting into a mind that should have, by far, been too under the influence to even know where he was, let alone what was happening to him. For a moment, he considered it the end -- John really was going to choke him to death -- and his heart pounded into overdrive, in his mind, resuming his frantic, desperate, clawing struggles but not really making much headway.

Slowly, bit by bit, he slumped to the floor, fingers losing their grip and both arms going weak, legs kicked out and splayed as John laughed like the madman he truly was. He could not have known what he was doing, how far he was going, the pressure he was putting onto his very own brother. But maybe all he could see was Donnie's cock throbbing and pulsing pre-cum out quickly, so quickly, in fact, that it would have been completely untoward right then to assume that he wasn't loving every last second of it.

And yet...he slipped down, lower and lower as if he was sinking into the floor itself. Donnie opened and closed his lips like a gaping fish, gasping out of water, and felt as such too, weakly flopping and shivering with the last breaths of that particular stream of consciousness. Even the fear fell away in the final moments, cooling his skin as calm enveloped him, warm and wanton and as soft as a blanket that sealed away every last ill-will of the world where it could never reach either of them ever again.

"John... John... John, stop..."

Yet no words came out, eyes wide and bulging, chest working and heaving for a life-giving drop of breath, the pressure on his throat too much, far, far too much. No man could last so long and he whimpered breathlessly as the image of John above him swam and shivered, greying out as he pulled back and away from the pain and pleasure of his own body, balanced on the very tip of orgasm.

And then he was gone, falling and falling and falling, down and down and down, into the blackness, spinning and twisting and turning as if he weighed nothing at all. Gone was the pressure on his throat but there was pressure all around now, holding him in place and throwing him about with a crude, cackling laugh, the demons in the darkness mocking him for striving for life.

"Stay with us," they whispered, curling about him, their presence sinuously sensual in their brushes and caresses over his naked, trembling form. "It's better here. Nothing else out there for you. There's nothing more left."

And then he was pulling away, up and up and out, without any conscious thought or decision, his body still very much prey to the wills of the demonic kings and princes around him, although they were all, very much, ones of darkness and the night. The pressure roared in his ears and he screamed without sound, gaping and gasping and thrust back into the light with a searing jolt that shocked his entire body.

Air! Blessed, fruitful, sweet air! Sucking in greedy, desperate breath after breath, Donnie heaved as he came to his senses, wildly glancing about for he had not the energy or presence of mind to actually move any muscle in his body besides the ones involved in breathing. John hunkered over him, hands pressed flat to the floor, and howled out his pleasure as he finally spent himself, rage clearly having subsided in lieu of a far sweeter pleasure that he could take without any manner of hindrance in his way. Semen marked Donnie's stomach and he blinked down at himself, dumbfounded, as he realised too that his shaft was soft, the thought registering dimly in the back of his mind. Had he really climaxed to that?

There was no way to explore the thought further, cursing inwardly and sobering up, just a little, from his high. What he'd had must not have been what John had but it still was enough in his system -- it lasted a long while, after all, which was the beauty of the drug when one was not an addict -- and that eased the pain a little, the chemical-altering substance affecting his brain and nervous system. Yes, he knew all the technicalities and, in a moment of crystalline being, catalogued them all, the medical uses and effects, one by one.

That didn't stop the pain from returning to his neck and chest as John finished inside him, climaxing with a thick, full-throated grunt, completely unaware of what he'd done. Hot breath rushed over Donnie's face, rancid from whatever he'd had to smoke earlier, and Donnie could only be grateful that John hadn't smoked up the crystal too, or else that would have been even more unpleasant. He shuddered, fingers moving weakly over his own stomach and lower abdomen into the splatters of cum that denoted his past enjoyment, anal ring sore and pulsating. Why did he focus on the strangest of things when he was high?

It did not bear thinking about, John withdrawing from him before he was truly done, the last droplets of creamy seed spattering erratically over Donnie's balls and abused hole, left open in a strained gape after such a vigorous pounding. There would be no way to really tell how far he had intended to go or how long they had been at it but the time was passed as John staggered upright, eyes intent and grasping his cock as if he didn't realise that it was already softening.

"Fucking hell, Dooonnniiiee! This shit is great!"

And, if he thought that, Donnie was not going to be the one to shatter the illusion -- at least not until they were in a safer location with fewer drugs in their system. His mind knew that much even as he rasped out a hoarse laugh himself, John's brow furrowing for a fraction of a second, although he had never once asked how Donnie was when a change of body or mind had occurred to him before. It just wasn't something that they did or part of their dynamic and Donnie had no doubt at all that it would stay that way too. It was just how it was.

"Get here!"

John laughed raucously, throwing his head back in a flash of devastatingly white teeth, and pulled his brother to his feet, Donnie finally taking the chance to slide his shirt back off his shoulders, soaked with sweat. And then they came together, kissing and groaning into one another's mouths, their passion finally matching up with the point of their high as they groped and squeezed and lewdly took hold of just what pleased them, cum drooling from Donnie's back passage. But it was not the trickle of cum around his anal ring that was the most high-inducing of it all but the flurry of talk between them, gasping and panting and exchanging ideas in the way that only brothers could do.

"Bigger!"

"Yes, we've got to do more!"

"So much more!"

"Diesel! We'll be in on it all!"

"Mark to get them in first!"

"The streets won't know what hit them!"

And they thought they were concocting the most detailed of plans even as they hungrily shared breath and their cocks throbbed back to full hardness, although it was true too that only one of them could end up back on the bottom. Back to the wall, Donnie slid down as if in a daze after such an extended exchange of words that he could not even remember, heart pumping for the thrill of the moment and the cock right there before him.

Without thinking -- he didn't have to think -- he took John's shaft back into his mouth, sucking it greedily down, tongue pressed wetly and slickly up to the underside. It stretched his jaw as widely as it always had, his naturally small mouth not really designed for sucking anyone off (despite what John liked to say on a very frequent basis) and he lost himself in the heat of it, taking John's heat into his own body and passing it back again tenfold.

"Fucking hell, Donnie..."

Grunting coarsely, John leaned heavily over his brother, palm of his hand flat against the wall, John rocked and bucked his hips, claiming his mouth as he had done so very many times before. And yet the existence of those previous times did not make this one any less sweet, the high enough to handle as he moaned and rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, lolling like a grotesque doll for a moment -- yet only a moment. And a moment was something that could be borne through, like when John rammed up into the back of his brother's throat too harshly, for the sake of the sweet, sweet high that was otherwise to come.

And they'd never give up that pleasure -- oh no. That was just what kept them going, trembling with an erratically erotic mixture of need and hunger, one intricately mixed cocktail that slipped down easily. When John exploded into Donnie's mouth, the submissive brother drank down every last drop, feeling every vein pulsing on his brother's cock and imagining too with the help of his little crystal friend that he could feel far more than he did. Every last sensation enhanced, right down to the hardness of the floor beneath his knees, pushing up against him as if it was bearing him back and away. Yet no! He had to keep sucking, had to keep going, and he drew that shaft lustfully into the back of his mouth, sucking until his cheeks hollowed and he drank him dry of every drop that he had to give.

There was more to come but the drug ebbed and waned, perhaps following the course of what it was cut with, something that the two of them could not even know without putting their supplier to gunpoint, or, at least, some other weapon. Clean-up was left to those who were better suited to the duty and the time, hours later, found them going over the footage, the clipboard nothing but scrawls and scribbles that not even Donnie could decipher from his own handwriting or even remember. But that was to be expected and the cameras indeed had been set up for a reason that they too had to make good on.

And yet there was something in there that Donnie didn't want to dig into, swinging in the computer chair with a comfortable back with his head tipped up to the ceiling.

"Fuck... Did you see this shit?"

Eyeing the screen, Donnie swiftly and pointedly averted his eyes from the image of him lying there, choked unconscious and apparently lifeless, as his brother fucked him.

"I was there, John. What do you think?"

His brother, for once, was quiet. Silence stretched out as the footage played on, the sound muted for it would have been too much for either of them to actually play it aloud, hear the despondency of what had taken place in clear, sharp detail. And Donnie did not look, reminiscing with a shiver just how those hands had felt on him, the wrestle decidedly one-sided and his cock twitching with need even then, wanting something...something that he would not say, if not quite yet.

There would be time. He was sure of it.

"That one was too strong," John said at last, shaking his head. "There'll be riots if we send that out. I'll have Maverick sort out the supplier on that one. That had to be deliberate."

Or maybe not. But it did not make up for what had happened and the lingering tingle of lust in Donnie as he stood slowly, lips pulling up in a half-grin that should not really have been present, considering the apology that should have been made and simply was not present.

He could hate it or love it... But all that remained was to see just what he would do about it. And that one thing alone was pleasantly and entirely up to him.

Taking his brother's hands, he placed them on his throat with his eyes cockily half-lidded, the bruises still remaining from the brutal attack earlier. Raising his eyebrows, John pressed down; Donnie's breath caught.

"Try it again."