Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/657352.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gundam_00, Gundam_&_Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Lyle_Dylandy/Neil_Dylandy
  Character:
      Lyle_Dylandy, Neil_Dylandy
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot, Incest, First_Time, Dubious_Consent, Masochism
  Series:
      Part 50 of Rent-a-Gundam
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-17 Words: 2613
****** Fair Play ******
by rent_a_gundam, rubyofkukundu
Summary
     Lyle and Neil try penetration for the first time. But everything
     between them always degenerates into a competition.
Notes
     This is part of the sprawling Rent-a-Gundam series: a university/
     rent-boy!AU that was co-written by Veda, Auto, Orange and Typo.
     Only a portion of the RAG fics have been posted on AO3. For all other
     fics in the series, check out the Rent-a-Gundam journal: http://rent-
     a-gundam.livejournal.com
     ***
     This particular story was written by Veda (rubyofkukundu).
     Originally posted here: http://rent-a-gundam.livejournal.com/
     75702.html
There's a first time for everything.

At least, that's what they say.

Lyle is starting to despair that it'll ever happen though. Fifteen years old
and he's never fucked anybody. Not anyone. And it's not for want of trying
either. Jesus Christ, if he could count all the times he's almost made it, only
to have his advances fly in his fucking face. Even when Stacey Robertson had
let him finger her in the alleyway behind the science building, she had
suddenly upped and left before Lyle could get any further.

Fucking frigid girls and their mixed signals.

And so Lyle takes his frustrations out on his brother, because he can.

Most times this results in an argument between the two of them, and Neil is
always so fucking quick to fly off the handle at the smallest thing that it
often degenerates into a full-on fight, with both of them scrapping it out,
fists and feet, until someone comes to break it up or they wear themselves out.
But at other times it works in a different way; their violence replaced by
another passion entirely; the two of them sweaty and sticky and trembling, legs
tangled together and cocks in hand, panting it out into each other's shoulders.

Today is one of the latter, and Neil and Lyle are both crowded onto Lyle's bed,
gasping and pushing against each other, lube-slicked cocks caught in a shared
grip. Luckily, they've got the house to themselves for a while, so they're at
liberty to take their time. Lyle does. He makes the most of it, moving his hand
slowly, keeping the pressure light, almost non-existent. Neil follows suit of
course, going even slower if that's possible, until the two of them are locked
in a battle to see who's touch can be the lightest and most infuriating.

Why oh why does everything between them always degenerate into a competition?

If Lyle's finding the slow pace a little frustrating, Neil must be too. They
both pretend that they can handle it, but Lyle can tell from the way Neil's
huddled close, like he'd burrow right into Lyle if he had the chance, breath
warm and moist against Lyle's chin and hair damp against Lyle's cheek, that
Neil is almost at the edge of his tether. Truthfully, Lyle's faring little
better than Neil, and he shivers, stifling a whine in his throat, as Neil's
thumb traces a slick, lazy path over the head of his cock.

After another second or two, Lyle decides that, fuck this, he's tired of this
game, so he yanks their hips together, one hand on Neil's ass, and grinds into
his brother as hard as he can.

Neil shudders in a very satisfying way, and pants out, "Fuck," against Lyle's
jaw.

Lyle grins, thrown off-kilter for a moment as Neil grinds back, but he still
tries to hold their hips tight together, lube-slicked hand on Neil's ass
squeezing unintentionally hard in an attempt to keep purchase.

Unexpectedly, Neil makes a tiny, little pleased sound at the back of his throat
at that. And so, just to see what happens, Lyle squeezes Neil's ass again,
deliberately this time. Neil moans.

It's impossible for Lyle to hide his amusement; his brother is such a fucking
faggot. He tells Neil as much, and is rewarded with the feel of Neil grinning
against his neck.

"You got a problem with that?" asks Neil, voice muffled.

"No," replies Lyle, a plan forming in his mind. He wonders if--

Lyle bites his lip and slides the hand on Neil's ass further, until he has a
slick finger pressing against Neil's entrance.

Neil goes to say something, Lyle can tell, because he can feel Neil's mouth
open against his skin, but the only thing that comes out is a moan, hot and
sticky against Lyle's neck, as Lyle suddenly pushes his finger up and inside.

It must feel good. Lyle knows it must. He's done this to himself enough times
to know. And Neil writhes in a pleased way, making a strange kind of low noise
that Lyle's never heard him make before.

Why it's taken Lyle so long to do this with Neil, Lyle has no idea.

So, spurred on by the response, Lyle keeps going. He thrusts his finger
slickly, curling it just a little, and he's rewarded by the feel of Neil's skin
shivering against his own, and the feel of Neil panting hot against his
collarbone.

Lyle swallows and licks his lips as Neil's hands scrabble to find purchase
against Lyle's hips. Neil is shaking and uncoordinated, and as Lyle thrusts his
finger faster, he feels Neil's cock grow even harder against his belly.

"You fucking love this," says Lyle into Neil's hair. He pushes a second slick
finger into the heat of Neil's body and gasps as Neil clenches around him and
makes that funny low noise again.

Neil doesn't deny the allegation, just pants harshly as Lyle keeps thrusting.
Lyle's own cock grows harder in response, turned on by the strength of his
brother's arousal.

"You fucking love it," says Lyle again. "You love to feel my fingers in your
ass," he shudders a little as he feels Neil press a kiss to the base of his
neck, "fucking you hard."

Neil writhes desperately and Lyle adds another finger, biting his lip as he
hears Neil moan. Neil is so hard against him, and Lyle is hard too, both of
them grinding slickly against each other, and Lyle is close but-- Neil makes
that low noise again and Lyle's own words roil inside his head: fucking you
hard, fucking you hard, fucking you hard.

Fucking you hard.

"Neil," breathes Lyle, saying the words before he can even think about them,
"let me fuck you. Properly."

At any other time, Neil might have made it into a competition. Might have
laughed and said, 'Not if I fuck you first!' Might have joked about it. But not
now. Not with Lyle's fingers in his ass and Neil shuddering all over. No, right
now, with his face flushed when he looks up and his pupils wide, all Neil says
is, "Please."

Well, there's nothing Lyle can say to that. Somewhere in-between his question
and Neil's response, Lyle has grown harder than he even thought possible. He
pulls his fingers out of Neil without ceremony and fumbles to get Neil into
position. Neil gives a little whimper of disappointment, but he's eager enough
to oblige as Lyle rolls him to lie on his back.

Lyle scrambles on top of his brother, almost falling over his own limbs in his
haste to do this, do this, do this, fuck him now. Neil spreads his legs
helpfully and lifts his hips, and he's looking up at Lyle, but Lyle doesn't
bother to pay attention because he's too busy positioning his slick cock at
Neil's entrance and pushing slowly inside.

Now Lyle looks up, and he sees emotions flash across Neil's face; eyes
widening, then closing, mouth falling open, panting hard, but Lyle notices it
all behind too much of a haze of oh Jesus, fuck yes to really care. Neil is so
fucking tight, and so fucking warm, that once Lyle is in as far as he can go,
buried right up to the hilt, he wishes he could stay like it forever.

But Lyle knows that he can't stay like it forever. Not really. Not when every
sinew in his body is urging him to move move move. Neil moans darkly, from
somewhere, and Lyle moans too, the sound muffled as Lyle's lips clash with
Neil's of their own accord, the kiss messy and sticky, tongues fighting for
dominance. And it's then that Lyle moves, pulling out and thrusting back in,
blissfully. Blissfully. He thrusts once, twice, and suddenly Neil's clenching
tight around him, coming all over his own stomach, and there's not anything
Lyle can do to stop himself from coming too.

Lyle collapses down onto Neil's chest, gasping for breath, and doesn't fucking
move. Neil might want a taste of the semen that's sandwiched between them, but
Lyle doesn't give a toss. He's still floating on a cloud of fucking euphoria
and fuck yes, that was the best orgasm of his life, hands down. HANDS DOWN.
He's not moving for anybody. Especially not for Neil.

***

As it turns out, Lyle doesn't really come down from the high of his orgasm at
all. Not properly. It stays all night, and half the next day. He can hardly
stop thinking about it; going over the sight and the feel of Neil in his head.

Lyle had never planned to lose his virginity to his brother, but, fuck that, he
doesn't care. What matters is that it was amazing. Those frigid girls can wait
for as long as they like, because now Lyle has Neil to tide him over. And he's
sure that Neil won't mind doing it with him again; the look on Neil's face and
the noises he was making suggest that Neil enjoyed the experience just as much
as Lyle did.

Fuck, Lyle even wonders if Neil will let them do it again tonight. Maybe he
will. No harm in asking.

So it's with a plan in his mind and a song on his lips that Lyle returns home
that afternoon. He dumps his bag, kicks off his shoes, and glances into the
living room far enough to note that they've got the house to themselves once
more.

Perfect.

Only, there's one flaw in Lyle's plan, which is that it requires Neil as a
willing participant. The trouble is not that Neil is not willing, but more
that, when Lyle enters their shared room, Neil isn't there. Or rather, as Lyle
finds out pretty quickly, Neil is there, but he's hiding behind the doorway,
and he pounces on Lyle as soon as Lyle's inside, tackling Lyle to the bed, face
first, Lyle's arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back.

"Jesus, Neil!" Lyle struggles and kicks, but Neil's holding him down with all
his weight. "I'm not in the mood for a fucking fight right now!"

Neil laughs at him. "Who said anything about fighting?"

Lyle goes to ask, "What the fuck?" but Neil presses him further into the
mattress as he does so, and all Lyle gets is a mouthful of the bedclothes
instead.

"Now," continues Neil, regardless of the fact that Lyle doesn't give a rat's
ass about anything he has to say, "seeing as how I was kind enough to let you
fuck me yesterday, I think it's only fair that this time you let me fuck you."

Lyle manages to raise his head enough to spit a petulant, "Fuck off!" in Neil's
direction, but Neil just laughs and twists Lyle's arm a little further and
Jesus, fuck, ow. Then Neil's hand weasels its way under Lyle's hips to undo
Lyle's flies and tug Lyle's trousers and underpants down like Lyle is nothing
more than some kind of cheap faggot whore.

And Lyle is not getting hard at that thought.

Neil goes quiet for a few moments, and Lyle wishes to God that he could see
what Neil was doing, or even, see anything beyond the hazy pale blue of the
bedsheets. He tries to struggle some more, just for good measure, but Neil's
still on guard and presses Lyle further into the bed for his trouble.

Accepting that he's not going to get out of this easily, Lyle waits, and tries
to ready himself for what's coming.

And Lyle is most definitely not aroused, and he's not breathing hard, and he
certainly doesn't gasp when he feels Neil's cock press against his entrance,
slick and hard. Except he kinda does.

Then Neil thrusts inside and it's not like it was yesterday at all. There's no
preparation beforehand, no fingering, and Neil doesn't go tentatively like Lye
did. No, Neil thrusts in hard and fast and Lyle can hardly breathe. It hurts
like a fucking bitch, and Lyle goes from slightly aroused to rock hard,
straining against the bedsheets for reasons he doesn't quite understand.

Neil continues as he started; he pulls out and thrusts back in quickly, again
and again and again. Somewhere along the line, Lyle's arm has been released,
but Lyle doesn't struggle. He can't. All he can do is cling onto the sheets and
try to keep breathing. It's not anything like fingering himself, except it is,
but harder and thicker and fuller, and it feels so fucking good that Lyle can't
do anything else except just feel.

Every thrust pushes Lyle's cock into the bedcovers, and Neil doesn't slow the
pace at all. No, if anything, Neil speeds up. Lyle's heart is beating fast in
his mouth. He can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't ever want it to
end.

Lyle moans through clenched teeth, shaking, and he comes all over the sheets
beneath him.

Neil's panting harshly. It's the first thing Lyle notices when he can finally
think again. He swallows thickly and tries to take in his surroundings. The
second thing Lyle notices is that Neil is still fucking hard. He'd slowed when
Lyle was coming, but now he starts thrusting again, tempo building until he's
fucking Lyle just as fast as he was before.

Lyle whines and has to clutch onto the bedsheets with both hands to ground
himself. It's, fuck, it's too much, it's-- Jesus-- Lyle can't do anything. Neil
keeps going, hard and fast and fucking-- fucking-- Lyle gasps for breath like a
drowning man, back bowing, forehead pressed into the sheets, almost overwhelmed
by it all.

Neil laughs, or says something, but Lyle hardly hears it over the slick noise
of Neil's cock and the creak of the mattress. And Neil's blunt nails are
digging sharp into Lyle's hips, but Lyle doesn't even care because Neil keeps
thrusting, fast and brutal, and it's good, so good. Lyle shudders all over,
fisting his hands in the bedcovers, and he wonders if it's possible for him to
come again already. It feels like he might. There's a pressure inside him,
building and building, and if it keeps on building, Lyle doesn't know if he's
going to come or pass out or both.

Then Neil laughs again, and Lyle hears it this time, because Neil accompanies
it by a smack to Lyle's ass with his palm, like Lyle is some kind of bitch, and
Lyle wants to tell Neil to 'Fuck off', but finds that all he can do is moan
into the sheets like the fucking slut whore that he is.

The nails on Lyle's hips dig in further-- fuck fuck-- and Lyle shivers and
sucks in a jagged breath because Neil is coming and Lyle can fucking feel it
and-- fuck.

Neil stops, finally, and half-collapses on top of Lyle, breathing fast. As soon
as Lyle can catch hold of his thoughts, he finds that he hasn't come for a
second time, and he dimly realises that he's barely even hard. But he hasn't
passed out either, although his consciousness wavers threateningly for a second
as he lies there and pants like a fucking marathon runner or something.

Eventually, Neil shifts and pulls out. A hand is placed on Lyle's shoulder and
he hears Neil say, like the smug shit that he is, "Have fun? Want me to fuck
you again sometime?"

Lyle bristles with the desire to give a witty retort and call his brother an
asshole, but he finds that he doesn't have the energy to do so.

Neil sniggers, like a bastard.

So Lyle gives him the finger instead.
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