Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1699031.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Pacific_Rim_(2013)
  Relationship:
      Raleigh_Becket/Yancy_Becket/Chuck_Hansen
  Character:
      Chuck_Hansen, Yancy_Becket, Raleigh_Becket
  Additional Tags:
      Chanceigh, Masturbation, Vouyerism, Dildos, Fucking_Machines, Becketcest
      -_Freeform, Sibling_Incest, Double_Penetration, No_Underage_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-27 Words: 3134
****** Do The Same ******
by suyari
Summary
     Chuck's wanted the Becket Brothers since he was a teenager. Over the
     years he's worked out ways to fully explore his fantasies.
     Eventually, he finds out it was all a lie.
     There's nothing like the real thing.
Notes
     Written as a double prompt fill for the Pacific_Rim_Kink_Meme_Tumblr.
     Combining these two prompts specifically.
Chuck is fifteen when he first manages to obtain them. It isn’t exactly
difficult. Coastal cities, especially around Kaiju attacks, care less about how
legal the transaction is and more about whether transactions occur. They’re
knock offs, bootleg, he can tell by the quality. But he’s so excited to just
have them, to have gotten away with it, that he doesn’t care. Of course, he’s
so caught up in his celebration, he almost gets caught. To this day, he’s
fairly certain Uncle Scott knew exactly what was in the shoebox he’d tossed at
him that day - he’d been taking too long to pack and Lucky Seven was behind
schedule - but he’s never actually said. For which Chuck is infinitely
grateful.
A few months later, Gipsy Danger goes down in the Pacific seven miles off the
coast and the nation collectively holds its breath as the Beckets are fished
from the water by Romeo Blue. Prices skyrocket, they always do, but Chuck feels
it necessary and pays three times the going amount for the real ones. He holds
his breath until they arrive by mail, runs to his bunk and desperately checks
every last inch. They’re the real thing, and he holds them close and that night
is the first night he tries anything with them. The next morning word comes
through LOCCENT that they’re alive and Chuck locks himself in his room to cry
and wonder at the coincidence.
Every time after, whenever his father and uncle deploy, Chuck performs his
ritual. The room is empty, and there is plenty of time to kill not worrying. As
it happens, when Uncle Scott gets injured, it has absolutely nothing to do with
Kaiju. He’s still ruined for further piloting, and he takes it hard.
Chuck ends up in the conn-pod with his dad. And begins to perform his ritual
every time they make it home alive. It’s part superstition, part comfort zone,
part relief. If Herc Hansen has any inclination of what his son is up to, he
never makes it known - within or outside the drift. Chuck is too concerned with
keeping it private to try and investigate, and besides, if his old man does
know, he isn’t saying and that’s just fine with Chuck.
He spends the last three months of his twentieth year making himself a very
special birthday present. And on the eve of his birthday, when most newly
turning twenty-one year olds are bouncing on the balls of their feet on line in
front of a bar, waiting for the moment to be let in, or out drinking themselves
stupid because Fuck America, he takes a long, hot bath. Lets himself soak as he
works himself open slowly. Goes to his bunk and locks the door. He’s so ready
he’s leaking a trail of precome as he sets everything up. Thinks twice and
barricades the door. Prays to any higher power listening that no Kaiju will
arrive on this night in particular, and settles in.
He comes so hard, he makes himself sob. Dropping face first into the mattress
he’s dragged onto the floor and biting his pillow until the material grinds his
teeth together uncomfortably. His ass is still in the air, the machine still
pumping hard and fast, and it’s too much. Tears leak from his eyes, and he sobs
against the pillow, but he rocks his hips and urges him on. ‘Yancy. Yancy.
Yancy.’ Above him, the other arm still moves. It’s slower, because he’s not
quite gotten good at not having control of the cock in his mouth. Still gags
too much, and it drags him right out of the fantasy to have to pull off and
choke. He doesn’t think he’d mind choking on Raleigh’s cock if Raleigh were
there to stroke his skin and coo sweet things at him. Raising his chin until he
took him again. Thrusting slow and sweet before grabbing him by the hair and
urging his head back and going for it until Chuck can’t breathe.
The machines do it for him the first few times, but eventually can’t quite hold
the fantasy. But Raleigh and Yancy Becket never sat for squirting molds, and
Chuck doesn’t have the heart to drill into his, even to modify them to better
suit his needs. He uses condoms on them because he likes to switch them around,
but even the condom isn’t enough to deter the unhappiness the lack of release
is beginning to have on his fantasies. He begins to get riskier. The first time
he has both inside him, he hurts his back from sagging in release before ending
the frantic thrusting rotations. He walks funny for three days, which is just
enough time, incidentally for the Beckets to arrive with Gipsy.
Chuck can still feel the ache of their replica cocks in his ass, the twinge in
his back from where the machines kept going when a person would stop or adjust
their angle. He isn’t in the best of moods. Yancy and Raleigh Becket are so
fucking goddamn beautiful it should damn well be illegal. His eyes keep sliding
down their very well put together bodies and he can’t seem to ever tear his
gaze away from the twin bulges of their combat pants. He can tell by the fourth
day something is off with his machines. The height maybe. The angle. Yancy
seems to slant slightly to the left. And Raleigh’s got a sharper curve than
even the best synthetic skin can replicate.
Of course, he’s basing this all on the erections the brothers seem to be
sporting nearly constantly after their arrival day. Chuck wonders if they’re
getting any regularly, or if they’re just always horny. He’s not about to
complain about the view, that’s for damn sure. And the more he looks, the more
he realizes his calculations aren’t just hopelessly off, they’re completely
fucked.
It had been a big thing when they’d posed for the skin rags. Pilots just didn’t
do that until the Beckets. And then they’d had their cocks cloned, and had
nearly upended everything the PPDC seemed to stand for. That is, until the
money came rolling in. Still, it irritates Chuck that someone, somewhere along
the line clearly royally fucked up. Frustrates him that his fantasies are
incomplete, wrong even in all the details he’s spent so many years carefully
cultivating.
It takes a week, but he thinks he manages to get something close. Of course, he
forgets in his eagerness to try it out that in his frustrated anger he’d
mouthed off a wild challenge no man in his right mind would back down from. And
certainly no Ranger.
So it happens, he’s halfway through his new session, back arching and hips
rolling when the doorknob jiggles. He’s well down the rabbit hole by then. So
deep in constructing the fantasy that he misses entirely the door being forced
open in turns. Doesn’t hear the slide of the dresser as two shoulders press
into the door and shove with all the experience and training of professional
fighters. Doesn’t see the pair inch their way around the wayward furniture only
to crash into one another on the other side of the door.
He can feel the difference. The heat of lust and want that washes over him. The
musk of desire that rises to match his cries. His heart is pounding, adrenaline
surging through his body so efficiently, his arms are shaking. He’s got both
legitimate copies up his ass and the pair of knockoffs in his mouth and even if
it’s more than they’d have between them, the feel of it is just so...so perfect
that all he can do is moan like the cock whore he is, and beg for more through
the slippery material lazily pulsing rhythmically in and out of his mouth.
His fantasy is so real, he can feel hands trailing over him. He groans and
pushes into it, gasping sharply when it misaligns within him. There’s a
clicking sound that doesn’t come from any of his machines and then he’s being
eased free. He whines, lust filled mind confused and desperate. And then
there’s a mouth against his and he opens his own in invitation, tongues sliding
across one another in a battle of wills Chuck has no idea which side he’s
actually on.
Another mouth trails over his back, following his spine down until his cheeks
part - held open by strong, steady hands - and another mouth meets his other
end. His eyes fly open as he rocks up, hands clutching at sturdy elbows. Eyes
meeting the dark blue of Raleigh Becket, who is looking down at him as if he is
worth more than anything. As if he’s the reason the other pilot climbs into a
Jaeger nearly every day now. It takes a moment to reconcile the fact that the
reason he can’t initially focus on Raleigh is because he’s all one color all
the way down. The splash of his dogtags and the spray of circuitry scars the
only contrast. Until he sees his cock, dark and prominent. Chuck doesn’t even
ask, moans as his fantasy comes to life and slurps him up like a dying man’s
last meal.
Raleigh fists a hand in his hair in surprise and arches into the embrace.
Chuck’s mouth is eager, but not without finesse, as he takes him all the way.
The first gasp he elicits from the older pilot is like heaven song and he
shoves his face forward with twice as much enthusiasm, until his nose meets the
heat of Raleigh’s groin.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Raleigh cries, trying to back out of his mouth.
Chuck growls and grabs both of his hips tightly, dragging him closer. Raleigh’s
hips begin to jerk unsteadily, frantically. “Chuck...Chuck...No really...wait!
Oh god...oh God! Yance! Yance, help!”
There’s a chuckle from behind him, where a strong, hard cock is lazily sawing
between the globes of his ass. “Dunno, Rals, I like the view.”
“Fuck-ing...trai-tor-OH!”
Raleigh Becket comes apart in his mouth like a perfectly tended piece of meat.
The words that come out of his mouth as he sprays his release all over Chuck’s
tongue and down his throat are positively filthy and Chuck drinks up every last
drop of the entire experience.
“Permission to board,” Yancy asks casually from behind him.
Chuck doesn’t want to release Raleigh’s cock and nods, moaning deeply against
the still throbbing organ in his mouth, raising his ass just in case Yancy
needs additional motivation. He doesn’t. Chuck whimpers around Raleigh as Yancy
eases in. He doesn’t have to be so gentle. Not when Chuck had two cloned dildos
up his ass, pounding away as if there was no tomorrow. But the care with which
he enters him is almost more than Chuck can stand.
“Easy,” Yancy says, as Raleigh’s hands find their way through the thick mat of
Chuck’s sweat soaked hair. He begins to stroke, eyes closed as Chuck worships
every inch of his cock. Rocks forward with a short, sharp sound when Chuck
abandons the shaft to suck his balls. Fingers tugging Chuck’s hair in the most
deliciously perfect unsteadiness. They slide and twitch, alternating between
clasping and clenching. Chuck pushes against his abdomen and the younger Becket
goes down against the mattress, head falling off the edge so his hair just
barely brushes the floor.
Chuck crawls over him, tugs his legs up and back so he can travel back. Tongue
spearing against his perineum until Raleigh is a begging, pleading mass of
quivering sex. Which is when Chuck returns the favor - if to the wrong brother
- and works the younger blond open with his tongue. All the while, behind him,
the elder blond doesn’t alter his course, doesn’t adjust his maddeningly slow
pace. Chuck has no idea what he’s waiting for and it doesn’t occur to him to
pull back enough to ask. He thinks he understands when Raleigh’s recovering
erection bumps his forehead. He moans in delight and drops the blond’s legs,
sprawling over him to take him back in his mouth and ends up mewling when the
elder grabs him by the hair and tugs his head back. It’s absolutely the most
wonderful sensation of Chuck’s life. Except for the part where it means he
can’t reach Raleigh’s cock to take it back into his mouth where it belongs. He
bites his lip, and then the tongue that darts out from between his teeth.
“Yancy!” he cries, voice echoing in the largely vaulted room. “Yancy! Please!”
He squirms, trying to grind back into the older Becket, whose pace doesn’t so
much as stutter in response. “Please, I need him! I need him inside me! Please,
Yancy, please!”
“I know, sweetheart,” is all the older pilot says in response, before he closes
his grip over Chuck’s hips and drags him back hard into his next forward
thrust. “Do you want to stay on your knees or have something more substantial
to hold?”
“Just want both of you!” he gasps, fingers scrabbling at the mattress. “Both of
you now!”
“Needy little shit, aren’t you?” Raleigh says, settling in front of him and
pushing his shoulders up as Yancy drags his hips further back. “It’s okay,” he
adds, adjusting Chuck’s legs and settling carefully beneath him. “We like
that.”
Chuck has no response. He’s too busy being halved by the pair of cocks sliding
inside of him in tandem. His hands clutch Raleigh’s shoulders, fingers biting
into his skin until he’s fully seated. His eyes are squeezed shut, he realizes,
when Raleigh kisses them; small, sweet, supportive kisses along one eye and
then the other. “Breathe,” he murmurs against Chuck’s lips before kissing him
deeply.
Chuck falls into the kiss, relaxes until the Beckets shift themselves into a
comfortable position for all three of them. It’s a moment or two of them
rolling their hips before Chuck feels the jolt shoot up his spine. He breaks
away from Raleigh’s kiss to gasp, “There! There!”
Yancy uses the movement to drag him into his own kiss. Raleigh easing back onto
his hands and settling his feet behind Yancy.
“Might want to hold on to something,” he teases, as Yancy adjusts a fraction of
a second later.
Chuck raises an eyebrow. An eyebrow that shoots up a moment later into his
hairline, as with a smirk, Raleigh Becket and his co-pilot fall into a brutal
rhythm, far more fulfilling and infinitely more satisfying than all four of his
dildos combined. Even at the machines highest settings. With all calculations
properly made for comfort and depth.
THIS, he realizes with jarring clarity. THIS is what he’s been looking for.
What no amount of preparation and calculation could account for. This perfect
blend of consideration and pleasure. The desire to make someone else feel good,
and the urge to be the force behind all further associations with such a
feeling.
All he can do is hold on and relax into the fierce push of their bodies against
his own. He drops back into Yancy when he can no longer hold himself up,
watches the flush of red overtake Raleigh, engulfing his face, neck and
shoulders. Behind him, he can feel the same happening to Yancy, and he knows
they’re close. Raleigh reaches for him and he swats his hand away with a
frantic shake of his head.
He wants to feel it. Really feel what it’s like to be so overcome with orgasm
that without even being touched--it’s like something is torn free of him. His
orgasm is so unexpected, he ends up a jerking, twitching mess the brothers have
to quickly gather up between them to hold him still as the clamping of his
muscles and the brush of one another within him finish them off. They come
together; Chuck can feel the tense release of their coupling cocks against the
tight pull of his muscles.
And then they fall into one another, sliding slowly against him on either side
until they manage to grab hold of one another. The process slows to a halt, and
the three of them are slumped together on Chuck’s mattress a few inches off the
floor. His fucking machines are still whirling in the background, and Chuck
can’t help but laugh.
It brings a pair of near identical curious brow furrows to the pair enveloping
him with their entire bodies. “Never thought,” he gasped, mid laugh. “I’d...be
surrounded...by Becket cock.”
“Those are…”
“Collector’s items!” Chuck replies, just barely refraining from choking.
“Priceless!”
“Used,” Yancy points out.
“Loved,” Chuck corrects. “Endlessly.”
“Well,” Raleigh pants, his skin starting to return to normal. “If you’re so
attached…” He rotates his hips, earning a groan from both his brother, and the
youngest pilot the PPDC has ever seen. Chuck can feel their come start to leak
free and finds it actually upsets him to lose it. He clamps down in an attempt
to keep it inside him.
Raleigh drops free of them entirely, arching slightly on the mattress with a
shiver.
“Like that?” Chuck asks with a smirk and does it again.
Yancy grabs his shoulders and squeezes in warning.
Chuck looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you about to
offer me the real things?” he asks, voice pitched in Raleigh’s direction. He’s
thrown an arm over his eyes, chest rising and falling with increasing
irregularity. “To keep?”
Yancy’s arms slide around him and tighten like a vice, hands hovering just
near, but not touching his spent cock. “You keep doing that…” he rasps.
“This?” Chuck asks, dragging his thighs into the next squeeze. “Can I keep you
both if I keep doing it?”
“You can...keep us...as long as...you want…” Raleigh manages through heavy
exhales.
“In case you failed to notice,” Yancy adds, nibbling his jaw and rocking into
the next clench. “We’ve been wet for you since we saw you.”
“Me?” Chuck asks with a grin. “Really?”
“Yeah…” Raleigh pants.
“You never followed in our footsteps,” Yancy rasps against his ear, nipping the
lobe and soothing the sting with an agile tongue. “We had to come to the
source,” he adds, gripping Chuck’s cock and giving it a soft squeeze.
“Want my cock, mate?” Chuck asks, rocking his hips slightly and earning
increased shivers from Raleigh, and the first of many from Yancy.
“Yeah, Chuck, we want your cock.”
“Want it…real bad.”
“Guess we’re gonna have t’ make a regular thing of this, eh?”
“Looks...like.”
Yancy’s hands slip up his chest, fingers finding and tweaking his nipples.
“Most definitely.”
It was a little late, of course. But it was still close enough, large enough,
and meaningful enough to count. Happy Birthday to ME!
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