Disorder Ch. 15

"What the fuck's all that about? Donnie, if you didn't know I was fucking gay by now..."

"No, no!" Donnie held up his hands, rolling his eyes -- he had to, it felt more normal than anything else that what was going on between them. "Yeah, I got that, shit, but I didn't think you...well..."

"Were into this?" John gestured at the screen, cock throbbing up hard and ready, twitching lightly as if his body simply could not take a moment more of any manner of pleasure. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. It's just something to get off too, isn't it?"

Donnie nodded, however minutely, and John scoffed, sliding his gaze away. John smirked, breathless, hand working, sliding the skin of his cock back and forth. A repetitive motion, it at least did not require much thought to be put into it, leaving him free to think about his brother, consider just what was going on there. There had to be something, some reason as to why his eyes lingered, why neither of them were, well, shocked by what was going on. Even John wasn't so far gone in the strangeness of life to now know that things were, indeed, rather strange at that moment. And, sometimes, that strangeness was okay too.

He groaned, eyes falling half-lidded, a sudden rush of pleasure nearly tipping him over the edge. Too close for comfort and yet, still, too far away, Donnie gasped and flinched lightly. It was then that John knew what he had to do. It was, after all, the only thing he could do -- offering something that a like soul, right then and there, so clearly needed, tension crackling in the air between them.

"You want to get off?"

Donnie swallowed. It was a hard one to deny. Truly, so many men that he knew would have had a hard time denying it, at least at their age. Was there a time that he didn't want to get something like that, a lick of pleasure? It was all they'd had sometimes, mind swirling with intoxicants, things that made him think that he'd never again be able to think clearly and, frankly, he didn't want to think straight either. It was that touch, the feel of something let alone anything specific, that had kept him going sometimes and, still, he yearned for it like a thirsty man clad in the pit of the desert, longing for a single drink.

Yet he would not delve into something so dark and so deep with John, his brother: that wasn't how they did things. Things were different for them, different for Charles too, and they didn't talk like that. At least, not yet. Sometimes with Charles, if things were good, but definitely not him and John. So all he had left at his disposal, in that case, were jokes, the mockery and the light-heartedness with a grain of truth blossoming at its core.

"You know I've not brought any guys back here." He paused, rolling his eyes as a hint of good humour returned to him. "Fucking in an alley isn't my style."

John laughed, aiding, at least, in lightening the tension further, letting Donnie slip back to the bed, the bulge in his jeans impossible to either deny or hide, though neither of them dared acknowledge it. Something hung in the air between them that they would not say, never aloud, only time telling whether it would come out into the forefront of it all. And they had to allow it that time.

"Yeah... Well, I don't like the thought of going out for a screw in the middle of the day, so it's this shit I've got. Unless you're willing to lend a helping hand, of course, my dear."

It was meant to be a joke but John's tone could not help but slip sensually into something softer and more suave, teasing through the air. It was finer than a silk glove, a sip of fine wine, and Donnie sucked in a breath, lips parting softly. His heart lifted and he knew he should not have done it but his brother had already seen the change in his expression.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" John grinned, an eyebrow cocked. "Well... No one's going to know and I don't like using my own hand -- who does? Get over here and try the job on then...for me."

Donnie's heart hammered, dully roaring in the back of his mind. He couldn't, he wouldn't, and yet he was moving without his mind actively commanding it, for his life and heart were in the hands of another from that point on. It was something that would take him many years to see and come to terms with but it would all come right in the end, taking him to highs and heights that, at that point in time, he simply could not have dreamed off.

The computer chair squeaked as John rocked it back, cock twitching, both eyebrows raised. Was he really doing it, going to do it? Damn, he hadn't even thought that, it was all a joke, but morbid curiosity itself was a potent beast rearing a highly pleasurable head as his brother broke eye contact, looking down at his cock and near enough visibly shaking. Or maybe that was him...

"Go on then," he laughed, humour his best ally in a moment that set even him on the back foot. "Stroke it then."

Like anyone said that anymore either but it was as good a line as any as Donnie gulped hard, trying to swallow and failing, saliva thickly clogging up his cloyingly tight throat. It was too much, all of it, and yet something in him pulled him to obey, entirely lucid and just wanting...something. And that something was right there before him to be taken even as his view of the world changed, trying to sidle in closer and take his brother's cock, so very shakily, in hand at the same time, heart in his mouth and stomach turning over and over, sickeningly so.

It was hard, like his. It was soft, like his. That strange bit of give around his shaft before the firmness where it had pumped through with blood supplied its sense of rigidity and power. Donnie gasped, head spinning, but John leaned back in the chair as if he was the king of the world, though not even he could believe that it was all quite going down like that.

"Fuck, you're eager, aren't you?"

It wasn't a question Donnie had to answer but John was watching him, letting his body do the talking for him where his lips remained frozen, parted with a glint of moisture on the lower one. Every edge and every tremor in his brother's body told a story and John's racing mind did what it could to unpick the threaded tale of each and every one of them, even if he did, duly, leap to incorrect conclusions. It didn't matter when it was his own picture he was painting, heaving and grunting, trying to rock his hips lightly up into that hold, wanting what his body wanted too in spades, tenfold, over and over again.

Donnie pressed his lips together, sealing back a whimper, blood roaring in his ears. Just what did he think he was doing? Sure, his brother was challenging him but did he really have to fall into his trap like that? He was going to take the piss out of him something dreadful, make things really awkward between them -- anything bad! And yet his brother only groaned and acted as if he wanted it too, so just what was he to believe? Donnie shook his head, hand shifting, though it was more his half-crouched position that made it hard to keep his palm and softly folded fingers perfectly still than anything else. If it was misconstrued as a thrust or a pump, well...that wasn't for him to worry about. He would not worry about it.

Yet that cock was so hard against his hand that he could not help but stare, comparing it to his own, the length and size comparable and yet seeming to be so much more too in a moment that he was yet to pull apart and examine. Donnie licked his lips without thinking, squeezing and twitching his fingers awkwardly around that cock, though it would have seemed stranger still to let his brother go after they'd pushed so far and come together in such a way already. Was that right or was that wrong? There was no way to tell anymore but the ache in his guts and his loins could not be denied, blood pumping, heat tingling erotically through his body from the tips of his fingers down to his toes and certain organs that intentionally thrust themselves out into the limelight.

John heaved and grasped, the moment stretching out and out, better than he could have imagined, if he'd ever even before dared to imagine such a thing coming to pass. And it was still in the beginning stages, cock drooling pre-cum lightly over his brother's hand, chest shuddering up, the dampness of sweat under his armpits heading the heat of his body. He needed to know, needed to see what lay beneath, his morbid curiosity getting the better of him, pushing him, pushing his own mind to lower depths than ever before. He could push buttons but, ah, they didn't have to be Donnie's buttons, no: they could be other buttons too, his buttons, things that he didn't even know about himself coming to light.

"Small Donnie..." John murmured, fingers twitching as he gripped the arm of his chair, the videos still playing, their lust filling the room and fuelling that of the real people at play there. "I almost think you want this."

That was just another unspoken question that Donnie would not answer, swallowing hard as he squeezed, though he would later say that it was just a bodily reflex, something that he had not meant to do. But a man could not deny how his hand moved, knees quivering, wanting to buckle, if only to drop his body into a more comfortable position. Everything was awkward, so very much so, but it did not have to be, if only he would give in to it, tease the darkness that his brother was offering into the light and suck it in deep.

And John knew it too, watching him intently, catching his breath, the shuddering rise and fall of his chest in tune and time with his younger brother's. He wanted it. It didn't matter to him that they were related -- it was just a moment of need, after all. Only later would John realise just why he was so intent on justifying it even to himself, though it was not a revelation that would, at all, change the course of events playing out as if they had some time long ago been written by the hand of destiny itself.

"No one has to know, Donnie," John breathed, eyes alight with dark intent, pushing the limits, pushing the buttons that were all there to be pushed. "No one at all... Just you and me. Where's the harm when it's all for fun, huh?"

Donnie didn't know whether that was true or not but he had already gone so far that holding back just wasn't on the cards, the feel of the hard shaft against his palm familiar and foreign at the same time. Like his own, but not. Like those who had gone before, but not. Without thinking (thinking was too difficult), Donnie shakily moved his hand, not even pumping, not trying to please, just trying to work out the new territory and lay of the land that, unduly, he had been so thrust into.

Just a stroke. One stroke. A thrust and a pump. He couldn't stay still, shifting his weight, thighs burning from holding his position, yet he could not collapse down into it for that would be the undoing for him, the point from which he could no longer go back, could never again return from. Without thinking, Donnie let a whimper out, lips parting, eyes plaintive, begging for something, though whether to be allowed to leave or a want to continue not even he knew. No one knew and that was the beauty of it as he delivered such a pleasure unto a man that he had never before considered in that way, working his hand, feeling out the curve of his shaft as he never had done before.

It was new and it could be as fresh and as (to hell with it) kinky as it liked, Donnie panting lightly, too hot and uncomfortable even though he was not truly engaging in activity that was all that physical. There was something about sex, even masturbation, that had him drifting and floating on his own little high, something that they could come down from at any point. Maybe that was what was so good about it, the tentative nature of its fragility, though there was nothing frail about how John grunted and thrust, eyes flicking between him and the computer screen, though it was harder and harder to tell just where his attention lay at that moment.

He had to push: John knew that. He was so close already, something getting to him, getting under his skin, eyes on his brother, watching him out of the corner of his eye even when he was pretending that he was not. What could be hotter than that, bending someone to his will, watching them break, watching their position crumble? Huffing hotly, he twisted his head back and forth, grasping at his collar to pull it out from his neck, though it wouldn't do anything to relieve the heat boiling over in his body, demanding attention, the churning need in his loins.

"Come on," he grunted, a hand gripping his brother's chin without thinking, nails biting in however briefly. "You can do better than that."

It was phrased like a challenge even as he was released and Donnie groaned, setting his stance, reaching out, hunkering down, his knees connecting with the creaky, bare floorboards before his mind could catch up with what he was doing. He didn't have to think though, only feel, and, fuck, it wasn't as if he was the only one in it, the only one who was well and truly in the shit if things went tits up in the end.

It didn't give him immunity or invulnerability but it gave him something as he imagined another man before him, letting the stream of videos fill his mind, let him think of something else, finally allow him to fantasise without a cocktail of drugs to push him there. He didn't seem to need it anymore to feel good, heart surging, blood pulsing, and, damn, did it feel good! He groaned, parting his lips at just the right moment to take that shaft into his mouth, the gasp that his brother gave in turn oddly gratifying.

John stared down at him, wide-eyed, but not even he could have anticipated that he would have been getting head off his very own brother that night, panting and gasping, trying to arch his back for a thrust that did and did not want to come. But there was little a body could do to deny such pleasure and his cock throbbed to attention, pulsing within his brother's mouth, the hot close of damp lips around his girth, sliding over the head. He could not help but try to thrust, at the whims of his body while his heart raced, a hand drifting to his younger brother's head, brushing his hair -- something that he honestly couldn't remember doing ever before.

It was kind of nice. In a strange way, but nice all the same.

There was only one thing for him to do, grunting thickly in the back of his throat and thrusting up, twisting his fingers into that hair, though he didn't have to quite think about who it was attached to. Just for fun -- that was what he'd said, and he'd do well to live by that too, remembering why he'd pushed his brother a little further in the first place.

He just wanted a good time and, really, was that all such a bad thing?

Donnie didn't consider anything or, at least, he tried not to. That was all that kept him right there where he needed to be in the moment, sucking that cock slowly up into his mouth, testing the girth, the length, how he needed to keep his teeth away from that so very sensitive flesh. It was right but it was wrong and the spill of pre-cum, light and delicious, slurping down his throat with a well-timed swallow. It was easy to suck dick and, well, he didn't have to really think about it either, such a reflex, a place that he was comfortable in. It was just like fucking someone, feeling the closure of a tight passage around his length, ploughing into someone who moaned in time with him, still begging and wanting him for more. He'd never had a partner that didn't want it, of course, even if they were not a vocal sort and it was, perhaps, his undoing that he only had good associations with sex then.

He was only going to add to them.

"Yeah..." John hissed through his teeth, slumping back in his chair, letting Donnie work him over, that hot mouth doing everything he had never known he even needed. "Suck it all... All of it... Fuck yeah..."

There was no rule saying that someone had to be eloquent in sex, after all, and the crudities spilt from his lips one after the other, coming hastily as if they had to fumble for dominance and prominence against one another. Snarling, he dragged his brother down and felt him coming right along with him, eagerly taking his cock, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, though it was more John doing it than him at that moment. No one cared -- not when there was pleasure at the heart of it all, the name of the game that they and only they were dead set on playing.

He couldn't stop, bobbing his head, letting John guide him, listening, taking his cues where they came. Oh, John liked when he pressed his tongue up? Well, he could do that. He was all about the mutual pleasure of pleasing a partner, after all, and he groaned softly around his length, letting that add to it all, every little sensation coming together in a beautiful cacophony. It was one thing too for him that didn't really require all that much thought, letting his body and the rhythm of it carry him through, drive him to highs and passions, lust commanding him as much as the man above him.

Did it matter anymore that John was his brother? With his cock throbbing, his brother's pounding so very urgently into the back of his throat, near enough triggering his gag reflex with just how unprepared he was for it, he wasn't sure about that anymore. He wasn't sure about anything at all anymore. He just needed it, the heat of another body against his, feeling something, lust rising, wanting to hump, to grind, his own shaft aching for attention. Yet that was attention that, one way or another, would have to come later as John twisted his head to the side suddenly, letting out a raw and ragged howl as he coarsely thrust and, without any word of warning at all, spilt his load into Donnie's mouth.

Pump after pump of cum spurted straight onto his tongue, streaming down his throat, forcing him to gulp and swallow rapidly, eyes watering, the strain of it all taking him out of the moment. And yet he had to do it solely as a matter of pride, looking to please his partner of that time while his body and mind fully expected everything, at least in some way, to be reciprocated even if he didn't quite know how that would work with John, his own brother.

His eyes half-lidded, letting that cock fill his vision, suck him down, hands finally wandering. Maybe he should have used them earlier but it was all the more intimate there, in a way, to touch and brush with fingertips, feeling on the curves, the creases around the flesh of his sack, how his nuts seemed to pulse with each spurt. Yet a man's climax was not destined to last forever and he was left panting as John's cock softened, slipping from his mouth too soon, one of the two of them left wanting while John hissed and groaned, the release of tension more than even he could have thought possible with such a thing.

Fuck...

"Fuck... That was good."

John slumped in the chair, spinning halfway away, panting with a light smile pulling his lips apart, breathing through his mouth while Donnie tried to regain his composure. It was a task in itself that was harder than expected, his hair mussed up and pulled out of place, eyes sliding away, flushed and heady, skin prickling with a touch of sweat. He wiped his forehead awkwardly and rocked back on his heels, though it was hardly a comfortable position, the lack of stable muscle in his body (any beyond the normal acts of living, that was) rendering him a little weaker in that department than he may otherwise have liked.

Well, well, well, John thought, hiding his smirk, though pressing his fingers together before his lips only made it look all the more like he was hiding a secret. Donnie had a good mouth on him in ways that he had not anticipated but the devil in him pushed things on, the video on the computer having run to completion but, well, they weren't focusing at all on that anymore. Things had taken a turn and he wanted to see just what could be done, what could be pushed, standing and sliding down his trousers, baring himself from the waist down.