Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6059059.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Prince_of_Stride:_Alternative_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Kamoda_Kei/Kamoda_Yuu
  Character:
      Kamoda_Kei, Kamoda_Yuu
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Masturbation, Sexual_Fantasy, Mirrors, Mirror_Sex, Mutual
      Pining, Guilt, Possessive_Behavior, Bruises, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What
      Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Voyeurism
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-18 Completed: 2016-03-30 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 8285
****** Gaze ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "The only time they ever look like brothers is when they’re close
     enough that the light-dark of their hair is tangling together and the
     matched set of those odd-colored eyes are close enough to be seen in
     the camera lens." Yuu and Kei are more different than alike, but they
     share more than just the color of their eyes.
***** Hazy *****
Yuu doesn’t resemble his brother.
They have almost nothing in common in their appearance any more than in their
personalities or their talents. Yuu’s hair comes in pale, a brown so light it
looks almost grey in some lighting, while Kei’s is saturated darkness, ink-rich
and silky when it falls to frame his features. Kei’s jaw is stronger, his chin
more pronounced than the soft curve of Yuu’s, and Yuu might have a few
centimeters of height on Kei but Kei is heavier, carrying the extra weight of
the muscle and strength that Yuu’s never been able to manage. Kei is fast, and
smart, and skilled, and Yuu is average, ordinary, plain in every sense of the
word. It’s Kei their teachers remember, Kei who sets records with every race he
competes in; often Yuu isn’t remembered at all, and when he is it’s only in
relation to his younger brother, only as an oddity to demonstrate that genetics
aren’t enough to prove quality. Yuu doesn’t mind. He could be bitter, he
supposes; maybe if he were someone else he would be, maybe if he cared more
about his own success he would feel the offhand rejection more deeply. But he
rejected himself long before anyone else did, long ago realized that he was
never going to keep up with the budding talent of his younger brother, and he’s
spent his efforts since then staying as far out of Kei’s way as he can manage.
There’s only one trait they have in common. Even the shapes of their eyes are
different -- Kei’s are wider-set, Yuu’s tipped down so he looks apologetic no
matter what he does -- but the color is identical, the blue-tinted grey of
Yuu’s gaze such a close match for Kei’s that he hasn’t yet been able to tell a
difference. It’s visible in pictures, sometimes, if they sit close enough
together or are crowded against each other to fit into the narrow view of a
cell phone camera; it’s the only time they ever look like brothers, when
they’re close enough that the light-dark of their hair is tangling together and
the matched set of those odd-colored eyes are close enough to be seen in the
camera lens.
It happened earlier today, right after the Stride club’s practice match; one of
the reporters had been interviewing Kei with the intensity attractive young
women always bring for Kei’s thundercloud scowl and long legs, entirely
engrossed in the conversation until Kei had turned aside to snap, “Aniki,” at
something Yuu was doing wrong. The woman had pounced on them at once, chirping
enthusiasm that failed to evaporate even when she found out that Yuu was just
the Relationer instead of a runner on the team with his brother. She had
steered them into a one-armed embrace with each other, had pressed Yuu so close
against Kei’s side that he could taste the salt of the other’s sweat on his
tongue when he breathed in, and had enthused about the bonds of brotherly
support while Kei’s fingers dug the outline of a bruise into Yuu’s hip and Yuu
had trembled helpless in his brother’s hold. By the time the camera clicked to
capture Yuu’s tremulous smile alongside Kei’s irritated glare, Yuu had been
lightheaded with adrenaline, had retreated to the recovery tent with a speed
motivated as much by his need to hide the heat of his erection inside his
shorts as the dizzy spin of breathlessness in his vision.
He’s been thinking about it all day, during the process of packing for the
return trip home and during the trip itself, when he tucked himself away in the
back corner of the van as far from Kei’s position in the passenger side seat as
he could manage to get. The ride back passed in silence, the process of
unpacking on the other side demanded all Yuu’s attention, and then the walk
home was as quiet as it ever is, with Kei setting a pace barely too fast for
Yuu to comfortably match and pausing every few blocks to let the other catch up
while Kei stared judgment at him. Kei had taken the stairs to the bathroom
first, leaving the front door open behind him instead of holding it for Yuu to
catch up, and he had stayed in the shower for a half hour, long enough for
Yuu’s hair to dry to a crust of sweat against the back of his neck and for his
skin to itch uncomfortably wherever it touched the seams of his clothes.
Finally the water had shut off, and some five minutes later Kei had emerged
from the bathroom, pushing open Yuu’s bedroom door without knocking to tell him
“Shower’s free” without a flicker of self-consciousness about the towel that
was the only thing slung low around his hips. Yuu’s attention had skipped down,
trailing the damp of the water lining all Kei’s chest to glistening gold, but
Kei had turned away before Yuu made it to the sharp angles cutting down from
the other’s hips, had given the slope of his spine for Yuu’s breathless stare
as Yuu hunched forward in a desperate attempt to hide the heat flushing him as
hard as he had been after the photograph.
He doesn’t jerk off in the shower. He thinks about it, stands under the warmth
of the spray for minutes telling himself he should, telling himself it would be
better to do it now rather than wait, but when he moves it’s to go through the
motions of washing himself clean, of rinsing the salt from his body and the
damp from his hair to leave it plastered wet and dark against his scalp. He
takes longer than he needs to, lets the water run hotter than he should, and by
the time he gets out the mirror is coated to a haze, his reflection misty and
hard to parse under the weight of water droplets. With his hair wet around his
shoulders and the features of his face blurred by the fog, Yuu can almost
imagine his hair to be darker, can pretend his soft jawline into something
harder, sterner, more certain of itself. The door’s locked, Yuu made sure of
that when he came in, and when he moves it’s to reach for the counter instead
of for a towel, to brace a hand against the damp-slick surface while he pushes
his hair back from his face and stares into the blur of his reflection as his
imagination turns the haze into clarity, as fantasy grips his vision to twist
it into what he wants to see.
Yuu reaches down and closes his fingers around the flushed resistance of his
cock. There’s a surge of heat up his spine, relief at the too-long withheld
friction, but what he sees in the mirror is Kei’s hand wrapping around his own
length, Kei’s grip dragging up hard over himself. Yuu likes to take it softer,
likes to work himself up to the edge slow and gently, but what he’s seeing in
the mirror is Kei, and Kei jerks hard, digs his thumb in against the head of
his cock and slicks his grip up with impatient haste for gratification. Yuu’s
shoulders jerk, his hand on the counter slides sideways to clutch desperate at
the support, and in the fogged-over reflection Kei’s mouth comes open, Kei’s
head arches back until his hair falls back from his face. There’s a rhythm Yuu
can make out at the bottom edge of the mirror, a stroking hand working hard
over flushed skin, and in his head he’s hearing the pant of Kei’s breathing, is
tasting the heat of his brother’s inhales filling his own lungs with arousal
secondhand. Yuu’s alight, his skin flaring hot with each burst of friction, but
it’s Kei he sees, the blur of movement in the mirror the deliberately hazy
image of Kei jerking himself off. Yuu wonders dizzily if Kei thinks about
anything while he does it, if he thinks about anyone; is he thinking about a
pretty girl in his class, is he thinking about one of the other Stride runners
they race against in the tournament brackets? Does he jerk off with the same
focus he applies to running, with the same efficient pursuit of satisfaction
without getting distracted by fantasies or imagination?
Or does he...Yuu’s breathing hitches, his shoulders curve forward; in the
reflection Kei’s image hunches in on itself, guilt weighting heavy into the
slope of his spine and the dip of his head. Does he think of Yuu? It’s an
insane thought, unfounded in any evidence real or imagined, but Yuu’s shaking
against his braced-out arm and his thoughts are going too hot and steam-slick
to obey the restrictions of reality. He can hear the gasp of his breathing, can
hear the effort of his inhales coming hard in the steam of the air; if he
stares hard at the blurred reflection he can pretend it’s Kei’s lungs working
on the heat, can convince himself there’s the weight of desire in the grey of
the eyes staring back at him from the mirror. Does Kei think about him, does he
imagine pushing Yuu back against this same counter, about pushing his legs open
and thrusting up into him in a rough slide of motion? Does he know, does he
suspect how easily Yuu would capitulate to him, how simple it would be to coax
Yuu’s thighs apart for the press of slick fingers against his skin?
Yuu can’t breathe. His arm is starting to shake; the haze of the glass is
clearing, the heat evaporating away so he can see the darker flush clinging to
the head of his cock, can see the frantic-fast motion of his hand working over
himself. Does Kei think about this, Yuu wonders, does he consider how Yuu would
look with his cheeks flushed and his legs shaking, does he touch himself to the
thought of Yuu spread out trembling and pliant over his bed? Yuu can see the
silver color of the eyes in the reflection, now, can see the way they’ve gone
soft at the corners, can see the way their focus is drifting in and out over
the give of the parted lips under them, and he can see Kei in their color, can
picture Kei leaning over him like this, with his cheeks flushed and his eyes
dark as he sinks into Yuu’s body, as his attention goes hazy on the pleasure of
Yuu giving way to him. Yuu gasps a breath, shoulders straining him closer
towards the mirror, and he can see the attention in those pale eyes slide out
and away, melting into the give of relief a moment before his cock jerks and
spurts heat over his desperate hold. Yuu’s head comes forward, his throat
chokes off a groan, and he’s clinging to the countertop, barely keeping to his
feet as his body jerks through the pulses of satisfaction that run through him.
His thighs are aching, his hand is cramped too-tight around his cock; when he
breathes he can feel the strain in his lungs, can feel the effort of retrieving
oxygen from the damp heat of the air. But even then it’s relief above all that
rushes through him, shuddering pleasure to wash away the hours of strain that
came before, until he’s left panting so hard he can feel the tremor in his
chest thrum against every exhale as it slides past his lips.
It’s only as the heat fades from his veins that Yuu takes a breath and lifts
his head to the mirror again. The steam is gone now, his reflection so
obviously his own as to allow no mistake for even the most heat-dazed
imagination; his hair is starting to dry back to its lighter shade, his
shoulders are slumped forward into a submissive curve Kei’s have certainly
never taken on. The stare that meets his is the same color as his brother’s,
but the shape of the eyes is wrong, the weight of guilt behind the lashes his
own to bear. Yuu looks at his face, takes in the shape of it, all the details
that make it not Kei’s, all the things that make him who he is; and then he
looks down, to the curl of his fingers around his softening cock, to the spill
of come drying across his knuckles as proof of his illicit desire and of his
capitulation to temptation. He can feel his cheeks heat, can feel his skin
burning itself into the same shame he always suffers after this, but he doesn’t
look away.
If he can face nothing else, at least he can face his own failings.
***** Clear *****
Kei looks just like his brother.
It’s true that there are minor differences. Yuu’s shoulders are a little
narrower than Kei’s, his lashes a little longer, his chin a little softer. He
has an extra few centimeters of height, and hair several shades lighter and
slightly longer than Kei keeps his own. But the structure of their faces is the
same, Kei has always thought; he can see the outline of his brother’s features
in the arch of his cheekbones and the angle of his chin for all that Yuu’s face
features more soft lines than the straight edges and flat lines of Kei’s. Kei’s
never understood how it is that people don’t know them to be related on sight,
has never made any sense out of the startled shock he sees in the faces of new
teachers and Stride reporters when they make the connection between the two
Kamoda-kuns; as far as he can tell the resemblance ought to be clear, is
printed stark in their bone structure and in the angle of their wrists even if
it’s disguised by the weight of Yuu’s pale hair and the soft corners of his
eyes.
It happened again today, in the middle of one of the interminable interviews
Kei’s not yet figured out how to end with any speed while still maintaining
bare-minimum politeness. He had been answering questions with half his
attention, keeping an eye on the movement of the team behind him, and when Yuu
had stepped into sight Kei had snapped “Aniki!” without thinking, without even
a reason to draw Yuu’s attention except for the satisfaction of seeing the
immediate response in his brother’s focus. By the time Yuu had crossed the
distance to them the reporter was gushing enthusiasm for the close brotherly
bond they must share, expressing more of that same unfathomable surprise at
their relation when ‘you look so different!’ Kei had felt irritation at that
tense along his shoulders and strain in the curve of his back, and when the
woman had huddled them close together for a photograph he had reached for Yuu’s
hip without thinking, had caught his brother’s waist in the curve of his arm
and dug his fingers in against the other’s skin as if to print bruises there to
linger long enough to make his possession known to anyone who sees them. He
could feel Yuu trembling against him, shaking with the adrenaline rush he
always gets during races, and it had taken all Kei’s self-control to keep his
eyes trained on the camera, to hold himself to a glare for the uncaring lens
instead of turning his head to bite ownership directly into the quiver of Yuu’s
lower lip as he managed the smile Kei didn’t even bother attempting. No sooner
had the camera flashed than Yuu was gone, retreating back across the space of
the race grounds while Kei growled through unheard goodbyes and stomped off to
seethe until the van arrived to take them back home.
He thinks about it the whole way back. It doesn’t make any sense, he thinks,
glaring into the faint reflection of his features in the car window like he can
turn them into Yuu’s face just by scowling hard enough. It should be obvious at
a glance, it should be clear to everyone, the unbreakable claim Kei has on Yuu
as his younger brother ought to be read directly from the lines of their
features without requiring the explicit explanation Kei has to give multiple
times at every Stride event. It shouldn’t be a matter of telling, it should be
a matter of seeing, if only the people around them were paying anything like
the attention they should be paying to Yuu. But Kei doesn’t want that either,
doesn’t want anyone to be looking at Yuu unless he can, and so he vacillates
back and forth in the space of his own thoughts, his irritation deepening until
he doesn’t even offer to help unpack when they arrive back at the school. Yuu
follows him on the walk back to the house, trailing in Kei’s wake like a shadow
clinging to his heels, and Kei lets him, not feeling generous or coherent
enough to locate the words to make polite small talk. He’s hot all across his
body, his skin itching like it’s trying to break free, and when he gets the
front door open he leaves it standing wide instead of waiting for Yuu. There’s
tension in the gap between his shoulderblades, an ache pinning itself to the
spaces between his vertebrae, and he’s not sure what he’d do with the clear
grey of Yuu’s gaze on him, isn’t sure what action he might take if Yuu said his
name in that warbling almost-apology he offers whenever Kei is irritated.
Better to go upstairs, to pace down the hallway and into the safety of the
bathroom, and then Kei has the door shut and is pressing the lock into place
and he can take a breath for the first time since they left the race site.
It’s not right, he thinks as he starts the water for a shower and lets the
faucet spill into the catch of the drain as he strips his clothes over his head
and drops them into a heap in the corner of the bathroom. It’s so obvious to
him, why can’t everyone see the resemblance in the bone structure underneath
his own angular features and Yuu’s softer ones? He glances at the mirror,
glaring irritation at his reflection, and yes, there, it’s as clear as the
color of his eyes, he could be Yuu’s twin but for the dark of his hair and the
set of the scowl unlike any Yuu’s worn in all his life. Kei stares at himself
for a moment, looking at the arch of his cheekbones and the angle of his jaw;
it’s not quite right, he can see, but that’s just because he’s frowning, it’s
the anger hunching his shoulders and settling heavy at his mouth that makes him
look so different. He unclenches his teeth, eases the strain in his jaw to
deliberate softness, and there, that’s it, if he softens his lips and lets his
jaw hang heavy his mouth looks just like Yuu’s, his lips even fall into the
same soft curve his brother’s take on when he’s not thinking about them. Kei
blinks, watching his reflection as he forces the tension across his forehead to
ease; as the crease disappears his eyes soften, his expression melting into
something so like Yuu’s that Kei can feel a rush of response run through his
blood as if it’s truly his brother on the other side of the counter and not his
own reflection. When he lets his shoulders relax it’s there too, even the extra
breadth of his chest not enough to undo the resemblance, and as Kei lets his
attention slide down his reflection he can feel his blood warming, his cheeks
flushing as if it’s really Yuu’s skin his gaze is trailing over. By the time he
makes it over the flat of his stomach and down to the angle of his hips he’s
half-hard, his cock swelling untouched between his legs, and in Kei’s mind it’s
Yuu going hard for him, it’s his brother’s body stirring into arousal just from
the drag of Kei’s gaze across him.
Kei doesn’t even think of hesitating. He reaches for the edge of the counter,
touching his fingers to it to steady himself as he slides his feet wider and
watches the image in the reflection settle into a more steady stance. When he
touches his fingers to his cock he can see the contact in the reflection, can
see the fit of his hand against flushed skin, and in his head it’s Yuu he’s
touching, it’s his brother’s body going hard to the touch of his palm. He wraps
his fingers into a hold, squeezes once to get a feel for the motion, and when
he groans the sound turns to a whimper in his throat, the echo off the walls
faint enough that Kei can pretend it’s Yuu’s voice pinned back by the need for
quiet as Kei strokes up over him. There’s heat running up Kei’s spine, the
simple, straightforward purr of friction from the drag over his cock but the
more satisfying tension of fantasy too, the distraction of imagining Yuu’s
chest tightening on a moan, of picturing his face falling slack as Kei touches
him. Kei looks back up, dragging his attention away from the fit of his fingers
around flushed skin, and it’s there in his eyes, too, the steel-hard edge of
them melted to something so soft on desire that it shudders electric down his
spine, like it really is Yuu staring back at him from the other side of the
mirror.
Kei’s hand is moving faster, his shoulder straining with the effort, but his
fantasy is unravelling into pure invention, feeding his imagination the sweat-
slick of Yuu’s body pulled flush against his chest, suggesting the drag of
Kei’s cock against Yuu’s ass as his palm works over his brother’s dick with
steady-smooth haste. Yuu would look just like this, Kei’s thoughts hiss, his
mouth open on helpless heat and his throat working on unvoiced sound; maybe Kei
could get a hand up against his neck, could feel the shudder of forced silence
working under his fingers. He’d take him apart just like this, where they could
both see, with the so-similar shape of their faces next to each other, and Kei
would press his teeth to Yuu’s shoulder, watch his eyelashes flutter as he
shook in his hold, feel his cock twitch as he...and Kei sees his mirrored
expression fall slack, eyes going unfocused for a moment as lips tense on
almost-pain, and then he’s shuddering into orgasm, his shoulder curling to
hunch him over the counter as his cock jerks and spills over his grip and the
top of the hand he has braced against the surface. Kei’s hips rock forward, an
involuntary motion to seek out the last of the heat in the curve of his hand;
and then he takes a breath, and lifts his chin, and meets the reflection of
not-quite-Yuu’s gaze in the mirror. He stares for a moment, long enough to see
the clarity of his features blur to suggestion, long enough for his eyes to
shift out of reality and towards the shape he knows better than his own; and
then he pushes away from the counter and turns his back on his reflection as he
makes for the shower.
He washes himself slowly, scrubbing at the sticky-sweat of exertion until the
water runs clear and his skin prickles with his effort. It’s only once he’s
perfectly clean again that he shuts the water off, and wraps a towel around his
hips, and goes to find Yuu.
“Shower’s free,” he announces from the doorway, while Yuu is still looking up
from the magazine he has open in his lap. Kei catches a glimpse of silver, a
suggestion of blue-grey behind the weight of Yuu’s lashes, and then he turns
away, moving down the hallway to the locked door of his own room, where he’s
free of the temptation of Yuu’s unmarked skin and unsuspicious eyes.
It’s easier away from his reflection.
***** Real *****
Yuu can see everything.
It’s distracting enough to have Kei’s hands on him, to have the warmth of his
brother’s body pressed skin-close against his spine, flush against his
shoulders and grinding hot at his hip. Yuu thinks that would be enough, alone,
to knock his vision hazy and blurred, enough to drop his lips into a gasping
part like he’s lost control of his mouth and forgotten how to close it. But
it’s a hundred times worse, a thousand times worse, to have the mirror in front
of them, to have the clear reflection of the glass to offer back every gasping
breath Yuu manages, to throw a duplicate of them for Yuu’s hazy stare, until
he’s watching his own image go shaky and weak-kneed at the edge of the bathroom
counter as much as feeling the adrenaline licking guilty heat through his
veins.
“Aniki.” Steady, Kei’s voice, calm as if this is just before a race, as if
there’s nothing out of the ordinary about Kei’s touch wandering across Yuu’s
body, about the arm Kei has looped into a bracing hold around Yuu’s waist. His
fingers are spread wide just against the bottom edge of Yuu’s ribcage, his arm
an unshakeable support; Yuu can see himself tilting forward against that
support, as if his body is melting to meet the resistance of Kei’s arm. “Are
you watching?”
Yuu has to blink, once and then twice, before he can collect himself from the
dizzy stare he’s giving their reflection in the mirror, before he can bring his
gaze up across the shining surface to look at his own face. He meets his gaze
for a moment, his stare taking in the weird pleasure-slackness all across his
features, but it’s only for a heartbeat, just a breath to ground himself before
his attention skids sideways to catch and linger on the shadow of Kei staring
at him over his shoulder.
“Keep watching,” Kei says against Yuu’s skin, biting the words into a criticism
for Yuu’s distraction that he doesn’t bother voicing. “I want you to watch.”
Yuu jerks his chin into a nod, submission coming more easily to him than
coherency. “Yes.” Kei’s fingers tighten against his hip and his vision hazes
over for a moment, his head tilting back for a breathless groan as he rocks
back to meet the heat of Kei’s cock pressed hard against him. “Yes, Kei, I
will.”
Kei leans closer, bracing his chin hard at Yuu’s shoulder and catching his
teeth against the other’s ear. When he bites it’s hard, offering enough force
that Yuu tenses and shudders with the rush of electricity it brings, but Kei
doesn’t let go for a moment, holds the weight long enough that Yuu can feel the
indentation even after his brother lets the pressure go.
“You had better,” he hisses, hot and dark at Yuu’s ear, and Yuu whimpers, his
eyelashes fluttering towards the danger of distraction for a moment. The
fingers at his hip tighten, nails digging into his skin to pin him to the
present, and he forces his eyes open, drops his chin so he can fix his gaze on
his reflection and brace himself back into reality. His jaw is set, his mouth
still trembling; Yuu almost doesn’t recognize his own eyes for how smoky-hot
the color behind them has gone. Kei shifts behind him, his nose bumping Yuu’s
cheek, and Yuu’s attention slips sideways to catch on Kei’s reflection instead
of his own. Kei’s not looking at them; he’s staring at Yuu, concentrated focus
granted intensity by proximity, and Yuu can feel himself shudder with the
weight of Kei’s stare, with the promise lurking behind the steel-grey of his
eyes.
“Don’t look away,” Kei tells him once more, and then he lets Yuu’s hip so,
shifting his weight so he can stretch sideways for the bottle left on the far
edge of the counter when they first came in, before they shed their clothes
into a heap in the far corner of the room. Yuu doesn’t look away; he watches
Kei instead, tracks the other’s motion via the reflection in the glass as he
moves. Kei’s shoulders make a smooth line when he stretches, the muscles in his
arms and across his chest flexing as he strains over the counter; it wouldn’t
be such a reach if he were to let his hold on Yuu’s waist go, but he doesn’t so
much as slide his hand by an inch. If anything he holds tighter, tugging Yuu to
the right by the force of his motion, and then he has his fingers around the
bottle and he’s straightening again, fitting back against the line of Yuu’s
spine and pressing his mouth to Yuu’s neck while he catches his arms into a
cage around the other’s body and manages the bottle with both hands. Yuu can
watch the knuckles of Kei’s hands shift under his skin, can watch the graceful
ease with which he spills liquid across his fingers; it’s enough to catch Yuu’s
breath even before Kei’s lips outline a kiss at the top of his spine, and then
all he can do is to moan something incoherent and hot while Kei clicks the lid
on the bottle shut and pushes it aside to replace the brace of his hand against
Yuu’s hip.
“Are you watching?” Kei asks, but he’s not looking up to the mirror, and he’s
not waiting for Yuu to form an answer from the tension straining his throat
with anticipation. “Keep watching, aniki.”
Yes, Yuu wants to say, except it comes out as a whimper, sounds like a plea,
and then Kei’s fingers are dragging slick against his entrance and his whole
body is tensing in sudden expectation, his spine curving to tip his shoulders
back as his hips jolt forward as if to press the ache of his cock against the
edge of the counter. Kei growls against his spine, the sound running all the
way down Yuu’s body to ground out at his hips, and then he’s pressing hard to
force his middle finger just inside the other. Yuu groans, the reflexive
tension along his spine giving way to a shudder of reaction, and Kei breathes
out hard against the back of his neck and pushes in deeper, the slick of the
lube against his skin barely enough to ease the force of his motion.
“Watch,” Kei says again, and Yuu blinks hard at the mirror, drags his attention
back to the heat-soft color of his eyes and the tension he can see trembling
through his body in spite of Kei’s hold at his hip. Kei draws his hand back,
pushes in again, past his second knuckle; Yuu watches his cock jump in his
reflection, watches his lips part on the full-throated moan he gives in answer
to the force. “Aniki.”
“I am,” Yuu says, desperate and hot on the words, because he is, even though
it’s hard to see anything but the motion of Kei’s shoulder against his and the
suggestion of shadow between his angled-open thighs. Yuu shifts his weight,
spreads his feet wider; with the greater angle he can see Kei’s index finger
bracing against the inside of his thigh, can see the hint of a rhythmic motion
in the shadows between his legs. “I am, I’m watching, Kei.”
“Can you see?” Kei asks, and then he’s lifting his head, Yuu can see his chin
come up in the mirror as he consider their reflection. His mouth catches into a
frown, his forehead creasing on irritation; Yuu can see the hiss of frustration
forming behind Kei’s teeth a moment before he hears it, is tensing against the
sudden drag of the pressure out of him before it comes. He whimpers at the
loss, his body aching empty without Kei’s touch to fill it, but Kei doesn’t
look at his face; he’s glaring at Yuu’s legs instead, scowling at their
reflection as he reaches down to dig slippery fingers into Yuu’s thigh.
“Up,” he orders, and Yuu shifts his weight obediently even though he doesn’t
know what it is Kei wants. Kei’s hand slides up to the dip of his knee, drags
Yuu’s leg up towards his chest in one quick motion, and Yuu chokes a cut-off
note of surprise and reaches out to catch himself at the edge of the counter
with both hands as his balance wobbles and threatens to fail entirely. Kei
growls, and forces his leg up higher, and Yuu gets his foot against the counter
to catch himself against the threat of falling. The angle is a strain, he can
feel it aching in his hip and all along the front of his other leg, but Kei’s
growl is turning to a purr, and his slippery hold is pulling away, and when he
reaches back down to stroke his fingers against Yuu’s entrance Yuu can see the
motion clear in the glass.
“Better,” Kei says, and then he’s sliding his finger back in, and Yuu can see
it, this time, can watch the light catch off Kei’s slick fingers as the other’s
touch pushes him open. It makes him groan, makes him shudder with heat as much
as with the friction of Kei’s touch, and Kei’s got his mouth against Yuu’s
shoulder and is groaning something unintelligible too, something hot and
possessive and growling in the back of his throat. When Yuu glances up he can
see the focus in Kei’s eyes, can see the dark attention in them as he watches
his touch sink into the other’s body; it makes Yuu shiver again, twitches
another rush of heat to his cock, and then: “I’m going to give you another,”
Kei says, low and purring against Yuu’s shoulder and without lifting his gaze
from the focus he has on their reflection. “You should watch.”
“Oh,” Yuu says, because his vocabulary is failing with every stroke of Kei’s
motion and he can’t find the words for more from the dizzy spin of his
thoughts. He braces his hand flat on the counter instead, giving himself a
counterpoint to match the bruising grip Kei has on his hip, and Kei’s drawing
his finger away to press slick against Yuu’s entrance instead. Yuu watches Kei
push against him, watches the easy rhythm of motion in his brother’s
fingertips; and then Kei’s wrist shifts, his fingers falling into an angle that
speaks to his intention, and when he pushes Yuu can feel his body tensing
against the stretch of the intrusion. Kei’s breathing hard at his shoulder, his
body tense with expectation along Yuu’s spine, and then Yuu lets a breath out,
and lets himself relax, and watches Kei’s fingertips slide inside him.
“Fuck,” Kei says, spitting the consonants into heat at Yuu’s shoulder. “God,
look at you.” His fingers slide deeper, push tension higher up Yuu’s spine, and
Yuu shudders with it, his body quivering while his focus remains fixed on the
angle of Kei’s slick fingers working into him. “You look so fucking good,” and
there’s heat at Yuu’s shoulder, the dig of teeth as Kei catches at his skin in
a bite like he can’t stand to keep the barrier of skin between them. Yuu cries
out at the sudden flare of hurt, his back arching as his body tenses, and Kei
groans wordless at his shoulder, curling his fingers to press into Yuu’s body
as Yuu clenches tight around him. Yuu lets his breath go, gasps a lungful of
air, and Kei pulls back to thrust in again, falling into a rhythm to his
movement before Yuu’s had a chance to collect himself back to attention. He can
feel the upward strokes of Kei’s hand, can feel the stretch of the other’s
fingers opening him up, and when he blinks himself back into focus he can see
it, too, the angle of Kei’s hand shifting as he sinks the whole length of his
fingers inside Yuu’s body. Yuu can’t breathe, his chest is straining for air
like he can’t remember how to inhale, and Kei is moving faster, fucking him
open with just his fingers and so much attention in his face Yuu’s not sure he
will think to stop to replace the friction of his fingers with the heat of his
cock. Kei’s hips are tipped hard against Yuu’s, his weight barely rocking
forward with each thrust he takes with his hand; Yuu can feel the length of
Kei’s cock slide against his spine with the action, as if Kei’s trying to fuck
against his hips even as he works him open with his fingers.
“Kei,” Yuu says, breathless and panting and unable to pull his gaze away from
the pattern of Kei’s touch moving into him. “Kei, I.” Kei moans something into
his shoulder, rocks his hips farther forward, and Yuu’s balance teeters,
straining in his angled-up knee and pushing hard against the support of his
hands at the counter. Tipped farther forward he can feel Kei’s fingers dig
inside him, can feel the angle shifting as he moves; it pulses heat up his
spine, curls tension into his fingertips, and he’s gasping for a moment,
helpless to the surge of heat that hits him. “Please.”
“Yeah,” Kei says into Yuu’s shoulder, but he’s still moving, still staring at
the motion as his fingers work involuntarily at Yuu’s hip, as his cock spills a
few droplets of liquid against the curve of Yuu’s back. “Yeah.”
“Kei,” Yuu says again, and lifts his head this time, tilting his head back to
rest at Kei’s shoulder and shutting his eyes to the visual of Kei’s fingers
sliding into him. “Kei.”
“Yeah,” Kei repeats, but it’s a sigh this time, resignation on the sound like
surrender, and he stills the motion of his hand, leaves Yuu gasping air while
his cock thrums discontent at the sudden loss of friction. Yuu whimpers as
Kei’s fingers come out of him, his whole body clenching in an effort to
retrieve the pressure that has been lost; but behind him Kei is rocking back,
and Yuu can hear the slick sound of wet skin catching on itself, and he can’t
breathe, can’t think, can’t even move except to tremble at the solid support of
Kei’s shoulder. There’s movement behind him, Kei shifting his weight, and then
“Stand up,” snapped as an order. “Watch.”
Yuu takes a breath, straightens his spine and takes his own balance back over
his feet. Kei lets his hip go, his arm drawing around Yuu’s waist instead; for
a moment his fingers are catching against Yuu’s cock, the minimal friction
still enough against heat-flushed skin for Yuu to gasp, for Yuu’s hips to buck
him forward against Kei’s palm. But Kei isn’t reaching for his cock, ignores
the desperate reflex of Yuu’s movement; he reaches down instead, curling his
fingers around the weight of Yuu’s balls and drawing them up close to the base
of his cock as he hooks his thumb around Yuu’s length to brace his hold.
“Watch,” he says again, and Yuu can see as Kei’s hips shift behind his, can see
the slick dark of Kei’s cock fitting between his thighs. Kei has his fingers
curled around the base, the support of his hold steadying the angle as he rocks
his hips forward; it’s strangely distracting, to see the pale of his fingers
against the flush of his length. Kei rocks his weight forward, presses the head
of his cock against Yuu’s entrance; and then he pauses, and lifts his head at
Yuu’s shoulder. Yuu glances up at their reflection, sees the shadows of Kei’s
eyes locked at the space between his legs, and for a moment he can’t breathe,
can’t even think for the heat rushing through his veins and surging hot into
his cock.
“Aniki,” Kei says, and Yuu blinks into focus, meets the shadows of Kei’s gaze
in their reflection. “Watch.”
Yuu stares into Kei’s eyes for a moment; then he jerks his chin, short and
choppy with submission, and Kei looks down as fast as Yuu does, their attention
pinning to the same point in their reflection. Kei’s fingers tighten, draw
Yuu’s balls up higher out of their line of sight, and Yuu can see the shift of
Kei’s cock, can watch the way Kei tightens his grip as he lines himself up. Yuu
rocks his weight back, spreads his legs an inch wider; and Kei thrusts, tipping
his hips forward and up in one smooth motion against the resistance of Yuu’s
body. There’s pressure, a weight against Yuu’s entrance, and then he can see
his body relax, can watch himself opening to let the slick head of Kei’s cock
slide forward into him. Yuu tenses at the first push, his reflexes overriding
the heat in him, but Kei’s inside him already and all the motion does is clench
down hard against the head of his brother’s cock. Kei groans, the sound so raw
at Yuu’s shoulder it sounds nearly pained, and then he’s letting his bracing
hold go, reaching to grab at Yuu’s hip to brace himself as he thrusts deeper
into the other’s body. Yuu’s chest is straining, his lungs working hard for air
he can’t remember to breathe for the stretch inside him, for the ache in his
legs and the heat in his cock and the sight of watching Kei take the first wet
stroke into him. Kei’s gasping at his shoulder, panting for air like he can’t
catch his breath, but he doesn’t pull back; he just keeps pushing, deeper and
farther and harder as he goes, until finally the last of his cock is inside
Yuu’s body and all Yuu can see is the weight of Kei’s balls between his legs.
“Fuck,” Kei gasps, and then he’s drawing out by an inch, two, enough for the
light to catch against slick-wet skin before he thrusts back forward and drives
the air from Yuu’s straining lungs. “Look at you, look how good you.” He cuts
himself off into a groan and takes another thrust, rougher this time; Yuu can
feel his cock jerk with the friction inside him, can see a haze of distraction
flicker over his vision before he can bring himself back into focus. Kei’s hand
slides away from Yuu’s hip, comes down and around to the inside of his thigh
instead; when he pulls Yuu’s leg wider Yuu can feel the ache all against the
inside of his thigh but he can’t find words for protest, can’t remember how to
frame coherency around the gasp of air rushing in and out of his lungs. “You
look so good when I’m fucking you.”
“Kei,” Yuu manages, then, the wail of his brother’s name coming from somewhere
unstudied, something that bypasses coherency with the practice of too many
nights alone in his bed, too many fantasies whimpered into guilt against his
pillow. “Kei, Kei.”
“Look,” Kei says, and he’s letting Yuu’s cock go, reaching up to grab at the
other’s chin and force his head up roughly. Yuu’s attention skids, his hazy
thoughts confused for a long moment; then he blinks, finds himself staring at
hazy silver eyes, and Kei is still talking, hissing hard at his shoulder. “Look
at yourself, aniki, see how good you look.” His hand drops, his fingers curling
back into place over the bruises at Yuu’s hip, and his slick fingers are
abandoning Yuu’s thigh to come sideways, to close hard against the other’s
cock. “See, that’s the way you look at me when I’m inside you.” His hand jerks
up and Yuu convulses, his whole body tensing at the surge of heat; his hand
comes out, his palm hitting the cold of the mirrored glass, and those eyes are
still staring back at him, pleasure-drugged silver over the slack weight of a
gasping mouth. Kei takes a thrust and Yuu can see the force of it ripple
through his expression, can see his eyelashes flutter in the moment before his
eyes roll back under the weight of the pleasure that hits him.
“See,” Kei tells him, and he sounds raw on the word, strained and nearly
desperate with the heat in his throat. “See how beautiful you are.” He’s
leaning in close, his head pressing hard against Yuu’s; Yuu can feel the heat
of Kei’s breathing against his cheek, can feel the tangle of Kei’s hair
catching at his. His heart is pounding, his arms shaking nearly as badly as his
legs, and Kei’s still moving into and over him, the drag of his hand rough and
rushed and catching the heat from the jolting thrusts of his cock into a rising
tide of fire in Yuu’s veins. Yuu doesn’t know where to look, from the shadow of
Kei’s cock sliding into him to the drag of Kei’s fingers jerking over his
length to the dizzy slur of heat in his own expression; and then he looks
sideways, his attention catching to the one steady point in the mirror, and he
meets Kei’s stare in their reflection. Kei’s watching him, his eyes darkened
almost to black and his jaw set; his mouth is barely open, his lips damp from
how hard he’s breathing, his cheeks hot and flushed into the high color of
pleasure all across his cheekbones. His hair is tangling over his face, his
lashes dark and catching the loose strands when he blinks, and he’s staring at
Yuu like he’s the only thing in the world, like there’s nothing more important
than the other boy’s existence.
Yuu chokes a breath, his body tensing involuntarily, and Kei’s lashes flutter,
his mouth shifting into a focused frown for a moment as he bites off a groan
and thrusts deeper into the other. He looks determined, intent, and then Yuu
blinks and sees their whole reflection for a moment, Kei leaning hard against
him and his legs spread open to make a picture of the movement of Kei’s hips
into him. There’s the movement of Kei’s hand, the white-knuckled force of his
grip, and there’s their eyes, the matched set of mercurial silver staring at
each other from the reflection of the glass. In the haze of pleasure climbing
over Yuu’s attention the differences in their faces melt away, the distinctions
between them falter and fail, and for a moment they could pass for twins, with
the reflection of their eyes so similar. Yuu is still staring, uncertain
whether it’s his face or Kei’s he’s watching, when there’s a rush of motion,
friction forcing out through his body, and his attention fractures, his vision
hazing out to white as he wails a broken note and jerks into orgasm under his
brother’s hold. He’s sobbing through inhales, quivering through jolting,
helpless shudders, and Kei’s hold on his hip tightens, Kei’s movements into him
go rougher like he’s trying to force the last dregs of pleasure into Yuu’s
body. The rhythm is giving way, everything is going hot and trembling, and then
Kei groans, offering “Aniki” to Yuu’s shoulder like it’s a command as his
thrusts stutter and his cock spills hot inside Yuu. Yuu whimpers, shudders
again, and Kei takes a last trembling thrust into him and goes still, his
forehead pressing hard against Yuu’s shoulder as if to ground himself.
Yuu doesn’t know how long it takes for him to find himself again. It’s Kei who
moves first, sighing hard at his shoulder and sliding back in a slick spill of
come Yuu can feel trickle down the inside of his thigh; when Kei lifts his hand
it’s to touch Yuu’s leg, to catch the weight of his knee and urge it down off
the edge of the counter while Yuu hisses and gasps through the easing of the
almost-cramp along his thigh. It’s not until both feet are on the floor that he
pulls his palm away from the mirror to press to the counter, not until the
heat-print of his touch is fading that he lifts his head to their reflection
again.
Kei is watching him. His eyes are lighter, now, some of the weight of shadowed
desire eased with his own satisfaction, but his hand is still at Yuu’s hip, his
fingers ghosting proprietary appreciation over the prints he left on the
other’s skin.
“Kei,” Yuu says, and then, because he doesn’t what else to say, and because
he’s helpless to the pleasure-slurred honesty in his throat: “I love you,” the
words aching desperate in his chest as if they’re a plea more than a
confession.
Kei doesn’t smile. He meets Yuu’s gaze in the mirror, holding his brother’s
stare for a long moment of consideration; then Yuu sees him lean forward,
anticipates the pressure of contact a moment before Kei tips in against his
back. Kei’s gaze slips sideways, Kei’s nose bumps Yuu’s cheek, and then there’s
the weight of a kiss, the friction of lips skimming Yuu’s jawline for a moment
before Kei’s mouth brushes his ear.
“I love you,” Kei breathes, and the words are a secret in his voice, the low
roughness of something to be hidden in undertones and dark corners and shared
only in the space between them.
Yuu looks at the mirror, looks at Kei’s lashes and the part of his lips, looks
at Kei looking at him for a long, long moment. Then he takes a breath, and
blinks slow, and turns away from the reflection and in to meet the reality of
Kei’s mouth warm against his.
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