Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12417822.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ダイヤのA_|_Daiya_no_A_|_Ace_of_Diamond
  Relationship:
      Kominato_Haruichi/Kominato_Ryousuke
  Character:
      Kominato_Haruichi, Kominato_Ryousuke, Kominato_Family
  Additional Tags:
      Developing_Relationship, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/In
      Heat, Sibling_Incest, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Power_Dynamics, Verbal
      Humiliation, Knotting, Breeding, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Possessive_Behavior, Hand_Jobs, Masturbation, Multiple
      Orgasms
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-26 Words: 11930
****** Paired ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Haruichi had sworn to himself then that he would do anything to
     follow in his big brother’s footsteps." Omega Haruichi has followed
     his alpha brother in everything he can, but there are some
     differences that can't be overcome by wishing.
There are times Haruichi wishes that he had been born an alpha.
It would have been easier. He can still remember when he was years younger,
when the family first received the news about Ryosuke; there had been a party,
a celebration dinner that Haruichi had been too young to truly understand but
old enough to grasp the meaning of, even if his parents said that they just
felt like taking them out to dinner. It had been clear in Ryosuke’s face, in
the smile that kept breaking over his features no matter how hard he tried to
hold it back with all the self-consciousness of a not-quite teenager; it was
clear in the way their father clapped a hand to Ryosuke’s shoulder, in the glow
of their mother’s eyes as she beamed at her oldest son. Haruichi had looked
around the table, at his proud father and delighted mother; and then he had
looked at Ryosuke, at the line of his brother’s shoulders that had seemed so
broad, then, at the proud tilt of Ryosuke’s chin as if he had come into some
kind of adulthood Haruichi could still only barely comprehend, and Haruichi had
sworn to himself then that he would do anything to follow in his big brother’s
footsteps.
It was different, for him. Haruichi looked forward to the determination of his
own identity, had anxiously awaited it for the few years between Ryosuke’s and
his own; but his was different, as he was different, and all the wishing in the
world can’t change the simple fact of his status. There wasn’t judgment in his
parents’ faces, none of the condescension Haruichi knows, now, many omegas
confront as soon as the fact of their identity is revealed to their family; but
there was fear, a shadow in his father’s eyes and tears in his mother’s, and
the revelation led immediately into conversations about what to do, about how
to mitigate the potential dangers. Haruichi’s mother had caught him in the
curve of her arm, had held him close against her while his father talked about
the likelihood of him going into heat, and how old he’d probably be, and the
considerations they need to keep in mind; and the whole time Ryosuke had
watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame and looking at Haruichi
with an expression so utterly unreadable that Haruichi couldn’t make the least
guess as to his brother’s reaction. He had ended up staring at Ryosuke, in the
end, while his parents discussed the trajectory of his future and the safety
precautions to put in place; and in the end, Haruichi thinks, it’s the tension
of almost-a-smile at Ryosuke’s lips that he remembers more clearly than
anything else from that night.
It’s been a handful of years since that first revelation, since the first day
Haruichi found himself definitively severed from his brother’s path through
life in this one aspect if nothing else; and it has proven to be more than that
aspect, however much Haruichi tries to match Ryosuke step-for-step. He’s a good
student and a strong athlete; he puts in extra hours at practice, and late
nights studying, and he matches everything Ryosuke does as far as he can,
trailing his brother’s path through life in as close to lockstep as he can
manage. But there are stares that follow him where Ryosuke met only smiles,
murmurs sometimes impressed and sometimes appalled that a mere omega would try
to keep up with the natural successes of an alpha. Haruichi hears them,
remembers them, locks them away inside the space of his memory; and he ducks
his head, and grows his hair long so no one will see where he’s looking, and he
fixes his gaze on his brother’s heels and trudges stubbornly forward. That’s
what he’s been doing the whole of his life, even before he found out he was an
omega; he’s not about to let that title steal away his goal, not about to let
it dissuade him from the path he’s chosen for himself. So Haruichi sets his
jaw, and squares his shoulders, and he does his best to ignore the murmurs that
follow him, that cling to his shoulders like moths whispering uncertainties in
his ear.
There are some differences he can’t avoid. His parents fell to research as soon
as his situation was made clear to them, and while their study has calmed some
of their more irrational assumptions it’s given more weight to others. There
are too many stories of young omegas going into heat at inopportune times,
while away from home for a long weekend or while out late with a group of
friends, and everyone knows what happens to unmated omegas who are taken by
their heat when they’re in a public place. Some are lucky enough to be mated by
a friend, or a classmate, or an acquaintance; but there are too many alphas in
a crowd to bet on finding a kind one, and there are too many stories of teenage
omegas being claimed by drunks or gang members, shoved down in dingy alleys and
bred in front of a group of leering onlookers by a mate they didn’t choose and
don’t want. The thought makes Haruichi’s skin prickle with horror, even just in
the hypothetical of it, and he’s willing enough to come straight home from
school in obedience to his parent’s demands. He’s meant to stay with Ryosuke
when he goes out, with friends or after school; but Ryosuke has baseball
practice, now, and with Haruichi not yet able to join the team alongside him
the best all of them can do is for Haruichi to come straight home and keep
himself safe inside until his brother returns to look after him.
Haruichi wonders if it’s something Ryosuke minds. He knows what people say to
his face; maybe it’s better, being an alpha, maybe there’s less vitriol
levelled at Ryosuke for his brother’s situation when he has his own standing to
support him. But maybe it’s worse; maybe it being Haruichi’s brother instead of
Haruichi himself loosens the minimal restraint on vicious tongues, maybe
Ryosuke hears even more of what the world thinks of his omega of a brother than
Haruichi does himself. Maybe Ryosuke joins in. Ryosuke’s never said anything
about it to Haruichi’s face; there’s just that smile, that tug at the corner of
his lips that Haruichi remembers so clearly from that first night of
realization, that’s the most Haruichi has been able to get from him ever since.
The thought of it makes Haruichi’s skin shudder with heat, with a quiver of
self-conscious shame even now, years after the fact; as if Ryosuke is laughing
at him, somewhere behind the shadows of his eyes, with only the curve of his
lips to speak to his inner thoughts.
Haruichi grimaces and shakes his head, trying to his best to dislodge the idea
as it forms. He has better things to do with his time; Ryosuke is unreadable,
Haruichi could spend hours trying to figure out what’s going on in his
brother’s head and never come any closer than he was when he began. Better to
retrieve his textbook from his bag, and open it up over the flat of his desk,
and lean in to lose himself in the immersive prospect of intent study. He has a
test coming up next week; Ryosuke was always top of his class when it came to
history, and it’s Haruichi’s worst subject but that just means he needs to put
more effort into his homework. He can think about his brother’s smile later,
when his homework is done and his studying is complete; it hasn’t changed in
years, it’s not like anything is going to be different today.
That’s what he tells himself, at least. But the thought refuses to go away,
this time, refuses to be banished to the shadows of his mind where it usually
purrs unacknowledged through the back of his thoughts. Haruichi reads the text
on the page in front of him, brings his eyes into focus on each individual
character as he proceeds down the paragraph; but his mind isn’t holding to the
words, his thoughts won’t connect one subject to the next. He keeps veering
back to his original topic, keeps seeing Ryosuke’s smile in his mind instead of
the characters on the sheet before him while his skin goes hotter, while his
body shivers with adrenaline; and it’s as he reaches the bottom of the page of
text he remembers none of that his cock twitches in his jeans, and he realizes
with a sudden, horrified rush of shame that he’s hard.
He shouldn’t be. He’s studying his history text and thinking about his
brother’s smirk; neither of those are anything like appropriate subjects for
arousal, there should be nothing at all to stir his blood to fire. But it’s
stirred all the same, it’s radiating such heat that Haruichi feels sticky
inside his clothes, like his sweat is clinging to hold the fabric tight against
his body; and it’s as he takes a breath that he realizes his throat is tight
too, that it’s hard to fill his lungs with air. He can’t breathe quite right,
his inhale is strange and raspy in his throat; and it’s then that he knows
something is truly wrong with him.
He should take a shower, he thinks dizzily. The rush of water sounds like it
would be a relief, like it could run cold over his burning skin and soothe some
of the ache rising in his muscles; but he feels feverish, sticky and strange
with it, and you’re supposed to stay warm for a fever, aren’t you? Maybe he
should lie down in his bed, maybe he should draw the weight of his blankets up
and let himself sweat through whatever sudden illness has so gripped him; he
braces a hand at the desk, intending to push himself to his feet without
bothering to close his textbook. His movement is jerky, his legs are unsteady;
the room veers wildly as he gets to his feet, like his sense of balance is
distorted and slow to follow his instructions. Haruichi has to clutch at the
back of his chair to steady himself, to hold himself upright as his vision
flickers to black for a moment, as a wave of numbing heat suffuses the whole of
his body; no sooner has it passed than he stumbles forward, toppling himself
over the distance to his bed in more of a controlled fall than anything else.
He lands face-first against the sheets, barely getting his palms out in time to
catch himself at the mattress; but he can’t breathe like that, the sheets feel
like they’re choking him. He pushes against the bed hard enough to turn over,
to pivot himself against the sheets so he’s lying sprawled on his back against
the mattress; he can feel his whole body trembling, can feel every muscle in
him quivering like it’s a struck bell. He can’t stop shaking, can’t stop
thrumming as if with cold; but he’s burning up, he feels suffocated by the
weight of his clothes. He fumbles at the buttons of his shirt, wrenching them
free of the fabric as he pushes at his socks to drag them off his feet and kick
them to the floor; the air of the room feels good against his bare skin but
it’s not enough, not with his shirt still around his shoulders and his jeans
still weighting cloying pressure against his thighs. Haruichi whimpers and
pushes himself to upright, sending the world into a tailspin around him again
while he struggles to free himself of his shirt before he passes out, to let it
fall to the bed behind him so he can reach for the fly of his jeans and strip
those off too.
Something’s really wrong, he thinks as he’s pushing at the button of his jeans
to force the familiar denim loose of the constrictingly tight hold it seems to
have on him at the moment. He’s never felt this way before: dizzy and hot and
breathless, like his skin is going to melt right off him, or maybe like he’s
going to suffocate on the heat of air that seems to be going to steam with
every breath he takes. How long has it been since he came home? How much longer
will be be before Ryosuke returns to check on him? All he has to do is wait
until his brother gets here, until Ryosuke arrives to look after his omega of a
brother as he always...and Haruichi’s fingers still on the fly of his jeans as
realization shudders over him all at once.
It’s too much to mistake. His skin feels like it’s on fire, his whole body is
slick with sweat; he’s dizzy with it, as if the fever is stealing his focus
right out from under him. And most of all, the obvious tell he should have made
sense of right at the start: he’s hard, painfully hard, agonizingly hard,
harder than he can remember ever being before in all his life. Haruichi pulls
at the edge of his pants, shoving the denim off his hips in a frantic rush of
speed; but of course it makes no difference, his own surging panic doesn’t do
anything to stem the effect of the instinct tearing through his body with such
force, the ache of his heat gripping him with an unbreakable hold. His cock is
swollen dark, almost purple with the too-much arousal aching in his balls and
twisting at the back of his spine; and he’s wet, too, he’s all but dripping
with his body’s expectation of the breeding it demands. Haruichi stares at
himself for a moment, at the stiff strain of his cock and the wet smearing damp
against his thighs; and then he shuts his eyes and struggles out of his jeans
so he can fall to tremble helplessly against his sheets instead.
It really is for the best his family planned for this, Haruichi thinks dizzily.
He hadn’t realized what was happening until it was fully upon him; he would
have had no chance at all to get himself to a safe place if he had been in
public. It must be obvious to anyone who looks at him, to anyone who knows what
they’re seeing: he feels flushed, he can see pink staining his arms and hands
and thighs, and his face must be no better. His sweat is a giveaway too; it
smells no different to him, not when it’s his own, but he knows enough about
his own biology to know that the fever heat coating his skin is like an open
invitation to any unmated alpha, that it would be enough to grip any one of
them with a frenzy of desire upon catching even a whiff of him. He could have
found himself pinned down in the hallway of a school classroom, if he was
lucky, or right on the sidewalk if he were less so, could have had his knees
pushed open and his head shoved down and an alpha’s--and Haruichi jerks, his
breath rushing from him in a moan as startling for him as his reaction is. The
idea should be terrifying, should be a dark and shadowy horror; but even the
vague idea of having someone inside him is enough to throb heat through his
cock, enough to tighten his balls until he feels a little like he might come
untouched just from the idea of it, as his body trembles and burns with desire
for a mate.
It’s a very good thing he’s at home, Haruichi tells himself, as firmly as he
can manage with his throat closing up on heat, with his body vibrating with
half-formed desire. He thinks he might throw himself on the first alpha he saw
if he were outside, thinks he might moan and beg and plead for the relief of
it; better that he be at home, better that he be safe here to ride out the
unbearable desire of this. He’ll be alright here, he can wait on his own until
Ryosuke gets home, until Ryosuke comes in to help him; and then Haruichi thinks
of his door opening, and of his brother’s eyes fixing on him, and his entire
body arches with the force of the arousal that rushes through him.
It’s too much. He shouldn’t be thinking this, he knows; better that he try that
shower, even knowing the cool will do nothing to stem the fever-want in his
veins, better that he turn towards his bedroom wall and shut his eyes and
return to thinking of strange men forcing him down, of unknown alphas rutting
into him to breed and claim him. But his mind offers only Ryosuke: the smirk of
Ryosuke’s lips, and the angle of his shoulders, and the almost-arrogant tilt of
his head, and Haruichi is whimpering over a breath, feeling like he’s going to
pass out from how hard his cock is straining at his hips. He stares at the
ceiling, his vision blurring and his rationality fading; and then he lifts a
hand, and reaches for his cock, and begins to stroke over himself.
He comes almost immediately. His fingers have barely touched hot skin when
there’s a sound outside, something easily mistaken for the sound of the front
door opening, and Haruichi spasms into orgasm just like that, just at the
possibility of Ryosuke coming in and finding him like this. There’s no relief
to it; for the span of the pleasure Haruichi can breathe, barely, can gasp air
and feel some measure of the heat at his skin easing its bruise-hard grip on
him, but no sooner has he spent himself across his chest than he’s tightening
again, his cock hardening under his trembling fingers and his chest seizing to
choke him on the impossibility of breath once more. He goes on moving almost
before the tremors have eased from his limbs, while his heart is still pounding
over the adrenaline of his first orgasm; but there’s no relief waiting for him
with this one either, even if it takes long minutes more to reach. Haruichi can
feel his muscles trembling, can feel his body going hotter, as if the pulse of
pleasure under his grip is a spur to his desire instead of an easing of it; and
he squeezes his eyes shut, and he grits his teeth, and he gives himself up to
his imagination.
He thinks of Ryosuke: of Ryosuke’s smile, of Ryosuke’s eyes, of the angle of
Ryosuke’s shoulders and the sound of his voice. He thinks of his brother’s
touch, the glancing weight of fingertips brushing unthinking against his arm or
ruffling through his hair, or the burden of an arm thrown around his shoulders
in the companionable friendliness he hasn’t felt since before he bore the label
of omega, before Ryosuke was known as the alpha he is. Haruichi can remember
those times: an easier time, before he felt the demands of his body like a
cage, like a leash wrapping around his throat to choke him with every step he
tries to take in his brother’s footsteps. He’s not an alpha like his brother,
he’s only an omega, he’s overstepping his bounds in even trying to keep up; and
yet Haruichi can’t help it, can’t help reaching and straining and grasping for
whatever closeness he can still find to the older brother who hasn’t looked
back for him since that determination of his own path. He thinks about it now:
about Ryosuke’s hands on him, Ryosuke’s skin against his, Ryosuke’s cool stare
to calm some measure of the burn of unstoppable heat coursing through every
fiber of his being; and he keeps moving, panting for air and with the ache of
tears starting in his eyes as his body trembles with too-much sensation and a
demand for more that Haruichi can’t give it at one and the same time.
Haruichi doesn’t hear the front door open. He imagined it, at first, mistook
something farther out on the street outside for the click of the latch turning
over; but when Ryosuke comes home it’s near-silently, or maybe it’s just that
Haruichi is too far gone, too lost to the roar of desire coursing through his
body to steal his breathing and burn him to fire. He has his eyes shut, has the
sound of his rasping breathing and his pounding heart to fill his ears as he
keeps jerking over himself, as he tries to sate the need in him with the wrong
kind of satisfaction; and so he doesn’t hear the door open, and he doesn’t hear
the footsteps approaching. It’s not until there’s a call: “Haruichi,” in the
offhand, dismissive tone Ryosuke always takes for his usual check-in, that
Haruichi’s eyes come open, that his body tenses against the bed beneath him
with the realization of what is happening.
For a moment he can’t breathe. Even the drag of his frantic stroking goes
still, the friction stalling for the first moment of horror as he realizes that
Ryosuke is here, now, that Ryosuke is waiting for a reply, for an answer
Haruichi doesn’t have. If he speaks the heat will be too obvious on his voice,
the drag of his breathing too clear; surely it will pull Ryosuke’s attention,
will urge the other to come and demand more details than their usual offhand
conversation. But Haruichi can’t steady his voice, can’t smooth his breathing;
his best hope at a composed response is a slim one, to seize the moment just
after one of those fruitless orgasms, and he doesn’t feel any sign of that
being near anywhere in the pressure so gripping his body like a vice.
He tries anyway. Of course he does. He has to, he can’t help it; he has to do
what he can, has to try to buy himself a breath enough to tell Ryosuke that
he’s here, that he’s fine, even if the words are a patent lie, even if he knows
he doesn’t have the time. So he tightens his fingers on himself, and he resumes
stroking with greater speed than he was using before, and he grits his teeth
and hisses for air as he listens to the sound of Ryosuke coming down the
hallway, as he hears the follow-up of “Haruichi?” in a louder tone as the other
approaches. “Are you home?” Haruichi sobs over an inhale, feels it cling and
knot in his chest; and then there’s the sound of the doorknob turning,
the click of the latch opening, and he’s looking back, helpless to the morbid
curiosity that demands to know how Ryosuke will look at him, like this.
Ryosuke is standing in the doorway when Haruichi looks back at him. His hand is
still on the knob, his fingers still bracing idly against the metal of the
handle; there’s no tension in his grip, no strain in his shoulder. His eyes are
fixed on Haruichi, his expression as calm and perfectly relaxed as the line of
his arm; and Haruichi can feel himself go hot with embarrassment, with bitter
shame at the picture he is making for his brother’s composed consideration, of
his fever-flushed body stripped naked and smeared with his failed attempts at
relief, his thighs slick and his cock hard and his whole body visibly, openly
trembling with the desire coursing its way through his helpless form. He can’t
twist away, can’t make any attempt to cover himself or hide the situation; it’s
too obvious, too overt, too clearly printed over every part of him, in every
stroke of his desperate grip on himself. Haruichi sobs an inhale, feeling his
eyes burn with something between shame and desperation as Ryosuke gazes down at
him with those alpha eyes, cool and calm and considering; and then Ryosuke says
“That isn’t going to help,” with as much composure on his tone as in every
relaxed line of his body.
Haruichi gasps a breath and blinks hard in a desperate and futile attempt to
make sense of Ryosuke’s words. “Wh...what?”
Ryosuke’s gaze drops to Haruichi’s hand, to the rhythm of it still working with
instinctive, unstoppable force; his chin jerks in dismissive indication.
“That,” he says; and then he’s stepping forward, letting his hold on the door
handle go as he comes into the room with casual disregard for the intrusion
into what is ostensibly Haruichi’s personal space. Haruichi hisses, flinching
back from Ryosuke’s sudden approach as he finally makes the delayed-reaction
attempt to twist aside and hide some measure of the heat staining his skin; but
Ryosuke just reaches to touch his hip. “Calm down. You’re just making it worse
doing that.”
“I can’t,” Haruichi sobs, and squeezes his eyes shut to try to hold back the
burn of the tears starting behind his lids as he shakes his head. “I can’t
stop, aniki, I don’t...I don’t know what to do, I just want…”
“An alpha,” Ryosuke says, his voice still utterly calm; and Haruichi shudders
with the sound of it, with the certainty of it, as if Ryosuke had braced hands
around his throat to lean in and pin him down to the sweat-slick sheets beneath
him. “You’re in heat and your body wants an alpha.” His hand settles at
Haruichi’s bare hip, his fingers spread out to steady against the other’s skin;
his touch feels cool, like it’s carrying all the relief of ice pressing close
against some summer-heat burn. It makes Haruichi quiver, trembles a surge of
relief through his tight-wound body, and then Ryosuke is reaching out with his
free hand to close his fingers around Haruichi’s wrist and pull his hand up and
off himself in a single careful motion. “That won’t help.”
“I can’t do anything else,” Haruichi whimpers. There was no relief from his
hand, no help from the friction of his palm against himself, but without it the
heat is like an itch, helpless and uncontrollable in every part of his body. He
feels like he’s going to burn up, like his skin is going to char and come off
him; he feels like he’s going to die. “I can’t just wait, I can’t, aniki, I
have to do something.”
“You can’t,” Ryosuke says; and there’s such a wall in his voice that it tears
another sob free of Haruichi’s throat, it squeezes his eyes the shut tighter
against the desperation in him. His shoulders hunch, his back curves; he wishes
he were unconscious, he wishes he were dead, he wishes he had never been born
if he was doomed to feel like this. For a moment there’s just that, just the
agony too much for anyone to bear in sanity; and then, “I can,” and Haruichi’s
eyes come open at once, his whole body going slack in Ryosuke’s hold at the
mere suggestion of the other’s words. Ryosuke’s hands on him, Ryosuke’s touch
against him, Ryosuke’s fingers sliding over him and working that tension free
of his aching body; and in the first moment Haruichi doesn’t think about the
ramifications, doesn’t think about the implication of his brother’s words,
because all he can think to do is want.
“Yes,” he says, the word tearing itself from some low-down depth in his chest,
some range he’s never hit before. “Please” and he’s curving, he’s arching, his
whole body is cresting back to get closer to Ryosuke, to press nearer to the
solid certainty of the other’s existence. “Aniki, please, help me, please,
please, I’ll do anything, I--”
“I know,” Ryosuke says, and his voice is sharp, knife-edged with a viciousness
that slices Haruichi’s words to silence at his lips. “Be quiet.” And he’s
letting Haruichi’s wrist go to reach for his hip instead, to bracket the
other’s body between his palms and pull hard to shove Haruichi forward onto his
stomach. Haruichi’s eyes go wide, his breath spills from him; and he’s
twisting, looking back over his shoulder towards Ryosuke shifting in to kneel
at the end of the bed as he straddles the sweat-slick length of one of
Haruichi’s legs as his fingers slide in and against his brother’s hips.
“What are you doing?” Haruichi asks, hearing his voice tremble in his throat,
feeling the ache of need in him only barely restrained by the contact of
Ryosuke’s hands against his skin. “You said you would help--” and then
Ryosuke’s fingers slide in and over the curve of his ass, and Haruichi can feel
his whole body flex suddenly, helplessly tight as Ryosuke’s touch draws over
him.
“I am helping you,” Ryosuke says. He’s not looking at Haruichi’s face; his gaze
is fixed just ahead of his fingers, his attention holding to the heat Haruichi
can feel slick against his thighs and wet at his entrance. Haruichi’s face
flushes hotter even than it was, his cheeks darkening with some combination of
miserable shame and dark, violent arousal at Ryosuke looking at him, at
Ryosuke seeing...and then there’s a touch against him, the friction of
Ryosuke’s fingers sliding over his entrance, and Haruichi’s head tips back, his
throat tightens, and all the air in his lungs spills out of him in a desperate,
wanting moan.
“This is what you need,” Ryosuke tells him, his fingers tracing over Haruichi’s
entrance like he’s collecting the wet of the other’s arousal against his skin.
Haruichi’s legs jerk, his body trembling with need, with anticipation; but
Ryosuke just keeps touching him, like he’s savouring the way Haruichi’s body
flutters with desire for him. “You can jerk yourself off all day and it’s never
going to be enough.” His fingers circle around, pressing slick against
Haruichi’s entrance; Haruichi feels like a live wire, like his whole body is
straining on the verge of a cramp, on the precipice of ecstasy. “You need an
alpha inside you.”
“Yes,” Haruichi groans. “Please, aniki, please, do it, take me, I’m--” and then
Ryosuke pushes, and Haruichi’s vision goes white as his whole body spasms
around the sensation of Ryosuke sliding into him. He can feel the stretch, can
feel the friction of being penetrated, of having resistance within him to work
against his inner walls and open him for the stroke of the other’s hand; and he
can feel himself giving way at once, can feel his whole body relaxing to make
space for the other’s touch as fast as Ryosuke pushes forward. He’s moaning,
his voice has gone helpless and unrestrained in his throat; and behind him
Ryosuke is huffing an exhale and drawing his fingers back to push forward and
into Haruichi again.
“You’re so wet,” Ryosuke says. His voice is lower than it was before, hotter,
like his composure is giving way with each drive of his touch into his
brother’s body. “You must be desperate, you took two fingers without even
hesitating.” There’s a shift, a delay in his movement; and then more, a greater
stretch, and Haruichi is wailing heat, giving voice to the convulsion of
satisfaction that is washing through his entire body.
“Three,” Ryosuke says, and he sounds amused, he sounds satisfied, like he’s
proud of Haruichi, like he’s pleased with the situation. “You must be falling
apart, Haruichi, how did you manage until I came home?”
“More,” Haruichi whimpers against the sheets. His vision is flickering with
every thrust of Ryosuke’s fingers, his body is clenching reflexive heat around
the other’s touch; but it’s not enough, he wants it deeper, hotter, wants the
full breadth and length of the other’s arousal the way it should be, the way it
was meant to be. It was bad before, when he was aching for anything, when he
was in tears from the strain of need; but now he can feel what it should be,
can feel every separate shift of Ryosuke’s fingers like a reminder of what
they’re not, of what is meant to be pumping into him, of the greater strain and
ache of an alpha’s cock he needs filling him, using him, stroking down deep
against that itch inside him he is helpless to soothe himself. “Aniki,”
Haruichi says, and he clutches at the damp sheets beneath him, bracing his
hands so he can shove himself backwards, can rock hard against the slide of
Ryosuke’s touch. “I need more.”
“I know,” Ryosuke says. “I can smell it on you, if you keep on like this we’ll
have every unmated alpha in the neighborhood breaking down the door to get to
you.” His hips shift against Haruichi’s leg; Haruichi notices, as if at a great
distance, the resistance of Ryosuke’s cock grinding against his thigh, his
brother’s arousal answering the instinctive demands of Haruichi’s own heat.
“Not that I can blame them.”
Haruichi presses his lips together and licks hard against the cracked-dry of
them to grant himself the breath to speak. “Do it,” he says, and he grinds
himself back, rocking his whole weight in to press onto Ryosuke’s fingers, to
flex his thigh under Ryosuke’s cock. “Take me, aniki, please, I want it, I
want you.”
“Calm down,” Ryosuke purrs. “Are you still that greedy?” But he’s amused,
that’s pleasure hot on the back of his tongue; and when he pulls his fingers
back and out of Haruichi’s body it’s with a tightening of his other hand, like
he’s holding Haruichi still against the desire to push back for more. Haruichi
trembles, riding out the quiver of unsatisfied desire that ripples through him;
but he doesn’t pull away, and he doesn’t protest, because behind him he can
hear the sound of Ryosuke’s zipper opening, can hear the soft wet of Ryosuke’s
slick fingers closing to stroke over himself. There’s a tang of something in
the air, some heavy, musky heat that curls itself into Haruichi’s nostrils and
grips at the back of his spine, and Haruichi’s lashes are fluttering, his
breathing spilling from him in a half-voiced groan of desire just at the smell
of an alpha’s arousal, at the smell of his brother’s arousal. There’s the drag
of skin-on-skin, the sound of Ryosuke stroking over himself; and another spill
of that scent, that perfume heady as wine in the air, and Haruichi is moaning a
beat before Ryosuke groans in the back of his throat.
“Fuck,” he says. “God, Haruichi, you smell so good.” The bed shifts, the soft
of it moving in time with Ryosuke coming up onto his knees and shifting his
weight; his grip returns to Haruichi’s other hip, his hands pull to urge the
slack weight of Haruichi’s body up and off the sheets beneath him. Haruichi
groans again, the incoherent sound of want the only thing he can offer other
than absolute, entire obedience to the demand of Ryosuke’s hold; and then he’s
on his knees, shaking in every line of his body and with his head pressing down
against the sweat-hot sheets beneath him, and behind him there’s friction
against him, the desire-flushed weight of Ryosuke’s cock dragging just over his
entrance.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke says, his voice low and as hot as the air around them; and
then his hips shift, his weight comes forward, and the hard line of his cock
slides forward and into the give of Haruichi’s body. Haruichi can hear the
wet slick of the motion, can smell the rush of heat from them both in the air;
can feel it, can feel Ryosuke moving inside him, can feel the strain of his
brother’s cock sliding in to stretch open the space of his body, to delve into
the intimate shadows within him and claim them for himself. Haruichi’s eyes
roll back, his fingers spasm on the sheets; at his stomach his cock jerks,
twitching towards his stomach with such force that he thinks he would have come
from it if he hadn’t so entirely spent himself already. As it is it’s still a
relief, a cessation of tension, a slack comfort to overused muscles; and then
over him Ryosuke makes a sound, something raw and hot in the back of his
throat, and Haruichi can feel his whole body spurred towards heat as if the
sound of an alpha’s pleasure is enough to lead him there all unprompted.
“Oh my god,” Ryosuke groans. “You feel…” He breaks off, his words stalling at
the same time his hips pull back and his thrust stutters forward with
instinctive force. Haruichi can feel the resistance, this time, the swelling of
Ryosuke’s knot starting to form at the base of his cock as a reminder of that
last line between rationality and instinct, that last mark to make this mating
permanent. He wishes, for a brief, wild moment, that Ryosuke would jerk his
hips forward now, would force himself past Haruichi’s entrance and lay claim to
him entirely; but Ryosuke draws back instead, retreating instead of urging for
more, and Haruichi is left to rattle over his inhale while Ryosuke fucks into
him with sharp, pulled-short thrusts that press the heat of his brother’s knot
against but not into him with each motion. Haruichi can feel the friction
within him, can feel the drag of Ryosuke’s cock sliding into his body and
dragging back with each pull the other takes; and his breathing is coming
shorter, his fingers are cramping against the sheets as he clutches as if to
hold himself still. This is too much, this is more than he ought to be having,
Ryosuke is inside him and driving aside the raw need that so gripped Haruichi
with every forward thrust of his hips; but even as the tension eases from
Haruichi’s shoulders, even as the strain of panic gives way, it’s only to
uncover something greater, darker, heavier still underneath everything else,
like some monster rising from the depths of a night-dark sea. Ryosuke is
touching him, Ryosuke is fucking him, every slide of friction over and into him
is panacea for that fever-madness that so gripped Haruichi’s breathing and
stalled out in his chest; but Haruichi can hear the hiss of frustration under
Ryosuke’s inhales, can feel the strain in his brother’s body tighten in that
hold against his hips with every stalled-short motion the other takes into him.
Haruichi can feel the thick heat of Ryosuke’s knot sliding against his
entrance, can feel the slick wet of his body trembling with desire for the
strain of it, for the fullness of it; and it’s in the midst of this, while
Haruichi is wandering the paths of his own dizzy thoughts, that Ryosuke takes a
breath and speaks.
“I hoped for this.” The words are taut, they’re strained against the same
tension holding Ryosuke back from full-force thrusts into Haruichi’s body, the
same deliberate intent that is pinning back instinct with the straining effort
of rationality; but they’re the more sincere, for that, when there’s no space
for the smirking teasing that is usually so hot in Ryosuke’s voice. This is
just honesty, raw and hot and dark; and Haruichi shudders with it, feeling
himself electrified even as Ryosuke’s hands tighten at his hips, holding him
still for those carefully-calibrated thrusts the other is taking into him.
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Ryosuke’s voice is rough at the back of his
throat, so low it’s hard for Haruichi to hear it over the squeak of the bed
beneath them and the pant of his breathing. He’s not sure he’s intended to hear
it at all, isn’t sure Ryosuke isn’t offering this strange, confessional tone
for his own hearing more than for Haruichi’s. “Coming home to find you in heat.
Tasting the smell of you in the air.” His hips come forward, his knot presses
against Haruichi; Haruichi has to fight to keep from relaxing into it, from
easing the tension of his body to welcome Ryosuke deeper inside him. “Touching
you, fucking you.” He rocks forward, his cock drives far into Haruichi’s body;
Haruichi quivers against the bed, whimpering something that sounds a little
like a plea and he knows Ryosuke will understand as the need it is. “Satisfying
you.”
Ryosuke lifts a hand from Haruichi’s hip. Haruichi whines at the loss, at the
absence of that soothing touch close against his skin, but Ryosuke doesn’t
return his grip to where it was. There’s a pause in his motion, a breath of
time when he stalls the steady action of his hips; and when he comes forward
again it’s his hand that presses against Haruichi, his fingers closed tight
around his knot as if to offer an additional level of restraint to what
rationality he’s still managing to cling to.
“I thought about claiming you,” Ryosuke says; and his hips jump forward,
shoving so hard into Haruichi that Haruichi is sure they would have slotted
together were it not for that hold Ryosuke has against the base of his cock.
“Pushing you down against your sheets -- these sheets -- and just having you
all at once, knot and all.”
“God,” Haruichi moans, feeling his entire body tremor with the thought of it,
with the imagined satisfaction of that burn of want under his skin being
answered by Ryosuke’s hands, Ryosuke’s body, Ryosuke’s cock filling him in one
long thrust. “Aniki, please.”
“Do you want it?” Ryosuke asks. His breathing is going rough, coming ragged
around the heat in his throat, the desire Haruichi can feel grinding against
him with each of those sharp thrusts forward. “You want me to knot you?”
Haruichi groans something helpless and hot and desperate in the back of his
throat, incoherence laced with meaning from the jolts of desire coursing up his
spine, from the shudders of tension rippling through him with every forward
stroke of Ryosuke into him. “Yes.”
“You want me to claim you?” Ryosuke says. His shoulders tip forward, the heat
of his body presses closer; Haruichi can feel the drag of his brother’s shirt
against his spine, can feel the weight of it settling to stick against the
sweat-ache in his shoulderblades. “You want me to breed you?” He thrusts
forward hard; Haruichi clenches around him, helpless to the want that is so
saturating his blood and hazing his thoughts. “You want me to fill you up,
Haruichi?”
“Oh,” Haruichi moans, feeling his cock twitch against the bed, feeling his body
spasm with the heat of the idea. “Aniki.”
“Tell me,” Ryosuke says. His voice is very close to Haruichi’s ear, now; his
chest is pressing flush against the line of Haruichi’s shoulderblades. “Do you
want me to mate you?” A punctuation of a thrust, a drag within the tight spaces
of Haruichi’s body; Haruichi whimpers, feeling the dark weight of absolute need
rising to latch in against the top of his spine, to crush itself down against
him with far more force than the full weight of Ryosuke’s body atop his. “Do
you want to have my children inside you?”
Haruichi groans. “Yes.” His fingers clutch at the sweat-damp sheets under him,
his arm flexes to drag against the support they offer; his trembling legs try
to push back, to overcome Ryosuke’s hold on his hip to press himself back and
onto the strain of the other’s cock, the promise of his knot, the future
together formed out by Ryosuke’s words. “Yes, yes aniki, I want it, I want
you.” Haruichi turns his head down against the sheets, listens to his own
breathing hissing sharp in his throat; when he pants words past his lips he can
feel the heat of them echoed back against his mouth, can taste the burn against
his throat with every breath he takes. “Take me, claim me, breed me, please.”
“Yes,” Ryosuke says, purring like he’s savouring the taste of Haruichi’s words
hanging heavy and dark in the air between them. “You’ll be mine, Haruichi.” His
breath spills against the back of Haruichi’s ear; the heat of it is enough to
pull a whine from the back of Haruichi’s throat. “My mate.”
“Yes,” Haruichi pants. “Please, aniki, I want it, I want you, knot me, mate
me, please.”
“No one else,” Ryosuke tells him, murmuring to the curve of his ear. “My touch,
my seed, my children. Is that what you want, Haruichi?”
Haruichi groans. “Yes.”
Ryosuke’s exhale is hot, coming hard enough that it ruffles Haruichi’s hair and
spills against the back of his neck. “Good,” he says; and then he pulls his
hand away, and reaches to grab against Haruichi’s hip again. His hips draw
back, his cock slides away; and then he bucks forward, and his hands drag
Haruichi back, and this time when his knot presses against the other’s body
there’s no drawing away. Haruichi can feel the force of it, can feel arousal
swelling Ryosuke thick and wide against his entrance; but his stomach is sticky
with his own frustrated pleasure, and his cock is heavy with the heat of his
own want, and when Ryosuke pushes against him Haruichi can feel himself open
immediately, the desire running so hot in his body easing him to take the
strain of Ryosuke’s knot into himself. There’s a moment of tension, of heavy
heat sliding past the strain of Haruichi’s desperate body; and then Ryosuke
slides forward by an inch to breach the last tension of Haruichi’s entrance,
and Haruichi can feel himself tighten reflexively against the heat, against the
strain of it, the near-painful pressure that lands hard against the nameless
ache of need that has been holding him so firmly in its grip. Ryosuke takes a
breath, sounding strained and overheated; and then he pulls back, and his knot
catches to pull Haruichi with him, and Haruichi jerks and comes in a helpless
rush of heat. He can feel the ache of it, can feel each separate pulse of
pleasure radiating up his spine and twitching through the whole length of his
cock; and inside him, at last, there’s the pressure he needed, the strain of
Ryosuke’s knot lodged within his body for him to tighten against, a fixed point
to hold him steady against the spastic tremors of orgasm rushing through him.
It feels like it goes on forever, like every convulsion around Ryosuke’s cock
brings about the next, as if his body is determined to drain him of every ounce
of that instinct-carried heat that has so gripped him, until by the time he’s
finally riding out the last of his aftershocks Haruichi can’t think, can’t
speak, can do nothing at all but lie slack and spent over the mess he’s made of
the sheets beneath him.
Ryosuke waits until he’s finished, until even those last tremors have ceased to
abandon Haruichi to lie trembling and dazed against the mattress. It’s only
then that he takes a breath, the sound of it startlingly loud against
Haruichi’s ear, and shifts his angle leaning against the other’s shoulders.
“Haruichi,” he purrs. One of his hands at Haruichi’s hip slides away; it drops
down instead, pressing against the sheets beneath them to touch at the stripes
of wet Haruichi has layered over the bed. Haruichi ducks his chin down, turning
his head so he can turn his hazy attention to the shift of Ryosuke’s hand under
him, to the shine of wet against Ryosuke’s fingers as the other pulls up and
away to touch against Haruichi’s stomach instead. Ryosuke’s touch fits against
the flutter of strain in the other’s body, trailing against the half-dried mess
Haruichi made of himself before coming down to brush against the other’s aching
cock, to catch the pleasure-softened weight of it against his palm. Haruichi
jerks with the contact -- it’s too much, too much sensation and too much heat
for a body already dragged into an excess of friction by his own desperate
efforts -- but Ryosuke just hums pleasure against the back of his neck and
draws his touch away again. “Satisfied?”
The question is rhetorical, so obviously so Haruichi doesn’t even try to catch
his breath to give a reply. He just keeps watching, gazing as Ryosuke lifts his
palm to return it to the flat of his stomach, to spread his fingers wide and
bracing against the tension of Haruichi’s abdomen as the other struggles to
keep himself upright.
“You’ll have a chance for more,” Ryosuke says, and presses his mouth into a
kiss at the back of Haruichi’s neck, just at the knob at the top of the other’s
spine. “I’m not letting you go until I’ve filled you up.” And he starts to
move, rocking himself back in tiny, reflexive motions to fuck his knot back
against the tension of Haruichi’s body. Haruichi jerks with it -- he can’t help
it, it’s too much, that low-down pressure in his already sated body -- but
Ryosuke keeps going, bucking in against him like he’s trying to break them
free, as if there’s anything that can separate them now but his own entire
satisfaction. The thought of it tightens Haruichi’s balls against his exhausted
cock, flutters his eyelashes in spite of himself; and then Ryosuke’s hips snap
forward, his thighs press flush against Haruichi’s, and Haruichi can feel the
whole length of him spasm with the force of his orgasm. It’s in the length of
his cock, twitching with heat as he comes; it’s in the pressure of his knot,
Haruichi can feel the strain of it flexing against him with each spill of
satisfaction. And it’s inside him, far in the depths of his body, as Ryosuke’s
cock pumps a rush of come into him, as Ryosuke’s seed fills the instinctive
need within him. Haruichi whimpers against the bed, moaning a sound of relief
as intense in Ryosuke’s pleasure as he found in his own; and against his neck
Ryosuke huffs a breath, and shifts his weight, and settles himself closer in
against Haruichi’s body under his.
“There,” he says; and his voice is a little softer than usual, a little warmer,
like the relief of his orgasm has eased away the roughest edges from his tone,
like the pleasure of ownership has blunted the razor of his words for once.
“You’re mine, now.” When his hips shift Haruichi can feel the motion work
inside him, can feel the ache of Ryosuke’s knot still holding him as tightly as
ever; it makes him shudder, makes his cock twitch with an attempt towards
renewed arousal wholly out of keeping with any kind of realistic timeframe.
Ryosuke must notice the shift in his body; or maybe it’s Haruichi tensing
around him that he feels, that pulls the hum of near-laughter from his lips to
fall at the back of the other’s neck. “Satisfied, Haruichi?”
Haruichi takes a breath. The sheets under him are hot with the pant of his own
breathing, his skin sticky with the damp of his sweat collecting at his spine,
slick at the sheets under him, soaking in under the pressure of his knees and
the weight of his forehead. He can see Ryosuke’s hand flat against his stomach,
can feel the weight of the other’s fingers bracing him still as if to hold him
in place until that promise has been fulfilled, until Ryosuke can feel the
tension of his own seed swelling tight against the soft of Haruichi’s belly.
Ryosuke’s cock twitches again, the length of it starting to fill again before
it’s even fully softened; and Haruichi turns his head against the pillow,
settling himself into place so he can cast his gaze up through the shadow of
his hair at Ryosuke over him, so he can see the tug of amusement at the corner
of his brother’s mouth and the dark, possessive satisfaction behind the eyes of
an alpha looking down at his mate.
“No,” Haruichi says; and he braces his trembling hand against the bed under
him, holding himself steady so he can urge his body backwards, can rock himself
fractionally up and towards the weight of Ryosuke’s body over him. “Don’t stop,
aniki.”
It’s hard to see from under the fall of Haruichi’s hair. The pale strands cover
his eyes, as they were meant to when he grew them out; but they shadow his
vision, too, leaving it blurry and unfocused more of the time than he intends.
But the flicker of surprise across Ryosuke’s face is clear enough that he can
see it clearly, from the lift of the other’s eyebrows to the wide-open stare he
turns on Haruichi beneath him; and then there’s the smile, the slow-spreading
delight winding across his face, and Ryosuke laughs and ducks in closer to
Haruichi under him.
“You always were determined to keep up with the alphas,” he purrs against
Haruichi’s shoulder, murmuring the words there before he sets his teeth against
the pale skin and bites down hard enough to mark the other with the shadow of a
bruise. “Let’s see how long you far you can follow me this time, then.”
Haruichi lasts longer than he expected he would. He was shaky when Ryosuke came
in, trembling and exhausted by the throes of his own arousal before the other
so much as laid a finger on him. But maybe he’s stronger than he thought, maybe
his arousal wasn’t as complete as he expected; or maybe it’s the effect of his
first heat, some endless rush of desire coursing through him that he can only
ride out and can’t hope to stem. Regardless of the cause: Haruichi comes again
before Ryosuke’s next orgasm, trembling and quivering beneath the weight of his
brother’s body and with the grip of Ryosuke’s hand clutching hard around him to
stroke him into one of the more brutal orgasms Haruichi has yet had today.
Ryosuke follows him into that one immediately, groaning his own pleasure as he
spills inside Haruichi in time with Haruichi’s own pulses of heat over the
sheets beneath them, in sync with Haruichi’s choking wails of sensation; and he
gives Haruichi a moment to recover, after that, while he pulls back to trust to
the knot to keep them together while he strips off his shirt and struggles free
of the jeans he only barely loosened around his hips. There’s something about
the feel of that, of Ryosuke trying to complete this perfectly ordinary action
while his body remains locked tight against Haruichi’s; by the time he’s
leaning back in to layer his bare skin flush against the other’s Haruichi is
hard again, his toes curling and breathing catching on expectation even before
Ryosuke closes his hand around him to stroke him up over the edge of pleasure.
That one leaves Haruichi heat-blind against the bed, staring out into the white
haze that has taken over his vision and feeling Ryosuke moving inside him,
feeling his mate working into him in pursuit of his own satisfaction, and when
Ryosuke comes again Haruichi’s lashes flutter, his breathing ripples over a
moan to follow the feel of Ryosuke’s seed swelling inside him.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he’s drawn back into himself.
Everything has faded out of importance in his thoughts; he’s dazed, he’s
overheated, every part of him is achy and slick with sweat and Haruichi doesn’t
want to be anywhere else, can’t remember what it was like to be separated from
Ryosuke, can’t remember what it was like to have anything but endless pleasure
washing over him. The strain is gone, the desperate need for more has eased;
now there’s just the warmth, glazing his thoughts out-of-focus and weighting
his lashes and trembling in his shoulders, leaving him dazed and dizzy as he
hovers on the edge of consciousness. He thinks he might be flickering in and
out, might be drifting into an almost-dream of heat and darkness at irregular
intervals to pull this longer, to make any attempt at telling the passage of
time futile before it begins; but then Ryosuke shifts over him, his body
sliding in and closer to press down against Haruichi beneath him, and Haruichi
comes back into himself in a rush so strong it leaves him breathless with the
force. His eyes open, his lungs seize on air, and over him Ryosuke hums a sound
of deep-down satisfaction, of pleasure so dark and heavy that Haruichi can feel
it like pressure bearing down at the base of his spine.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke says, and the words sound like a purr, they thrum vibration
under Haruichi’s skin and tense his shoulders where he’s sprawling over the
mess they’ve made of the sheets beneath them. Ryosuke’s lips drag against the
back of Haruichi’s neck, his breathing ripples warm against the other’s skin.
“We’re almost done.”
Haruichi’s eyes open wide at that. He had almost forgotten, somewhere in the
haze of his mind; he had lost track of the temporary nature of this, had
forgotten that this isn’t how he’s meant to be forever, with Ryosuke’s body hot
against his and the cool of the other’s fingers to soothe the fever-heat from
his skin. He’s shaking his head before he can think through the action,
rejecting Ryosuke’s words by force while he’s yet struggling for the coherency
to frame around his thoughts.
“No,” he manages, choking out the word as he fights to free his hand from the
sheets beneath him, as he reaches up to scramble for a hold at Ryosuke’s hair,
at Ryosuke’s neck, at whatever part of his brother he can reach. “Don’t go, I’m
not...I’m not done, yet.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ryosuke tells him, and his tone is gentle but the words are
harsh enough to still Haruichi’s protest, to close his lips around his words
and turn the clarity of them into a whimper instead. “You can barely get it up
anymore” as his hand slides free of Haruichi’s hip and down, reaching around to
skim against the length of the other’s cock. Haruichi jerks with the friction -
- it’s a burn, now, there’s a shudder of pain that comes with the weight of
even Ryosuke’s touch against his overused length -- but he can still feel the
want deep-down in his stomach, can still feel the desire for more desperate in
the back of his thoughts even as his body flags under the weight of his own
exhaustion.
“Besides,” Ryosuke continues, letting his touch at Haruichi’s length go to draw
his hand up, to flatten his palm against the other’s stomach instead. “You’re
already as full as you can be.” He presses down, his touch as gentle now as it
was against the other’s cock; Haruichi can feel his body resist, can feel the
strain of Ryosuke’s seed pulling taut at his skin to press hard against the
other’s palm. Ryosuke makes a sound at the back of his neck, something of a
moan and something of a growl; his hips move again, pulling against Haruichi
with the idle instinct to fuck his knot back against the other’s entrance.
“Be patient,” Ryosuke tells him. “I’ll give you more than this later.”
Haruichi blinks, struggling to clear the haze from his vision, to bring his
eyes back into focus on the far wall of his bedroom. His hair is still over his
eyes, still shadowing his sight; but the heat is just as much of a distraction,
pulling him apart with the white-out flickers of sensation that keep washing
out over him with every shift of Ryosuke’s hips, with each motion as the other
starts to work into him again, as he resumes the slow grinding force that comes
with him seeking out his own pleasure. His knot is loosening, Haruichi can feel
it softening in a sign that Ryosuke has all but spent himself; but his cock is
still hard, still working in against the wet heat of Haruichi’s heat-aching
body, and Haruichi can feel himself struggling towards arousal too, making a
desperate attempt towards satisfaction that he can feel as a whole-body ache.
Ryosuke’s hand tightens, his arm flexing to urge Haruichi in closer against
him; and against the back of the other’s ear, ruffling warm against the fall of
Haruichi’s hair, he goes on speaking, in a low murmur like it’s a secret
between just the two of them.
“You’re mine, now.” A rock of his hips, a press of his fingers; Haruichi’s
lashes flutter and his cock twitches towards greater heat in spite of himself,
driven forward towards arousal by the instinct of his own biology more than any
kind of rationality. “I’ve claimed you, now.” Ryosuke’s lips press against the
side of Haruichi’s neck, his words forming into the shape of affection at the
other’s skin, and Haruichi’s head tips to the side, reflex offering himself up
for the weight of his brother’s touch in spite of himself. “No one else is
going to have you but me.” Haruichi can feel the flex of Ryosuke’s thighs
against his own, can feel the slow weight of exhaustion in the dragging force
of the other’s movement; but Ryosuke is still moving, still working into
Haruichi even as his body starts to ease back from the arousal that has so held
them together, and Haruichi can feel himself aching for want of it, for
desperate need of that last rush of heat in him, that last proof of Ryosuke
marking him as his own. “No one else is going to breed you but me.” Ryosuke’s
face presses close against Haruichi’s neck; when he breathes in against the
other’s skin Haruichi can feel the heat of it prickle all down his spine, as if
Ryosuke’s inhale is electrifying him where he lies.
“It’ll be me,” Ryosuke says, his voice low and his words heavy as a promise.
“Whenever you’re in heat, whenever you need to be taken” as his hips come
forward hard enough to jolt Haruichi where he’s lying against the bed. “You’re
my mate, now.” His fingers tighten, his hand presses down hard against
Haruichi’s taut stomach; Haruichi’s toes curl at the feel of it, at Ryosuke
pushing against the weight of his seed inside Haruichi’s body. “I’m going to
fill you up with my children, Haruichi, will you like that?”
Haruichi groans, ducking his head into a nod of surrender as his hands slide
for traction on the sheets, as his body trembles under Ryosuke’s on the bed.
His cock is aching with want; he can feel the catch of the sheets sticking to
him with every forward tip of Ryosuke’s hips pressing against him. “Yes,
aniki.”
“Like this,” Ryosuke says, and his hold tightens, the force of his pull
increasing to hitch Haruichi up off the bed entirely, to pull him free of the
sticky sheets and flush against Ryosuke’s chest so Ryosuke can run his hand
over Haruichi’s stomach, can drag friction over the skin like he’s committing
the shape of it to memory. “Right here, Haruichi, I’ll keep you bred all the
time, I won’t miss a heat.” His mouth draws against Haruichi’s shoulder, his
teeth catch at the edge of the other’s skin. Haruichi can feel himself shaking,
can feel his vision blurring away as his grip on the present moment fades, as
his imagination runs down the future ahead, the weeks and months and years with
Ryosuke, with Ryosuke taking him and Ryosuke claiming him and the heat of
Ryosuke’s seed in him, the weight of Ryosuke’s children growing inside the give
of his body, swelling his stomach with the promise of new life, with his mate’s
offspring; and then Ryosuke says “You’re going to have our children,” and
Haruichi’s whole body spasms with helpless, instinctive heat. His cock jerks,
instinct overriding exhaustion at the satisfaction of Ryosuke’s words in his
ear, and this time Haruichi’s awareness gives way in time with the spill of his
come over the sheets, in time with the shudders of relief wracking his body.
His muscles go slack, his thoughts drift apart, and for a long moment all he
can do is lie limp against the bed under him, his eyes open but his vision
unfocused as Ryosuke keeps working in him to chase down the last of his own
pleasure. Ryosuke’s breathing is coming hot at Haruichi’s shoulder, his cock is
moving harder within Haruichi’s body; and then his teeth brace at Haruichi’s
skin, his jaw clenches against a groan of satisfaction, and Haruichi can feel
his skin bruise to heat in the shape of Ryosuke’s teeth as the last rush of his
alpha’s come spills within him. Ryosuke’s cock twitches, jerking through the
pulses of his orgasm; and then, finally, his knot eases, the pressure at
Haruichi’s entrance loosens, and they slide apart, Ryosuke drawing free as part
of the inevitable spill of wet that follows a mating. Haruichi shudders against
the bed, his whole body reacting instinctively to the release of pressure as
much as the loss of some measure of the heat inside him; and then his exhausted
muscles give way, he sighs a heavy exhale, and when Ryosuke lets his bracing
hand go Haruichi slumps to the bed, relinquishing the whole support of his body
to the mattress beneath him.
Ryosuke straightens slowly, careful in his motion as he pushes up to sit over
his knees. Haruichi’s skin pebbles with the cool of the air ghosting across
sweat-damp skin; his body runs chill as his own sweat and Ryosuke’s dries to
sticky salt in the dip of his spine and across the span of his shoulderblades.
The air is full of heat, humid with Haruichi’s sated need and Ryosuke’s own
heavy arousal; Haruichi breathes it into his lungs and fills his tongue with
the salt-sweet of it. Down at his hips Ryosuke’s hand loosens, his fingers
easing from the grip he’s maintained on Haruichi’s body, but he doesn’t pull
away entirely; his hand stays flush against Haruichi’s skin, his touch sliding
in and down to trail over the line of the other’s thigh like he’s reminding
himself of the shape of his brother’s body, now marked as his own as much by
the heat Haruichi can still feel inside him as by the darkening bruise printed
in against the line of his shoulder.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke says, his voice low and satisfied over the other’s name,
like he’s tasting a favorite food. His other hand draws free to span Haruichi’s
other thigh, bracing the other’s legs under his fingers like he’s testing the
way they fit together; Haruichi shuts his eyes and lets himself relax, lets his
legs shift fractionally wider to the urging of Ryosuke’s touch against him.
“Have you had enough?” Ryosuke’s hands slide up, his palms pushing against
Haruichi’s skin like he’s working to massage the tension out of the other’s
body; Haruichi huffs an exhale and lets himself go slack, lets himself
surrender completely to the force of the other’s touch. “If you need more we’ll
need to make sure you’re taken care of before Mom and Dad get home.”
Haruichi thinks about it for a moment: the force of Ryosuke’s fingers dipping
into him, maybe, or the grip of Ryosuke’s hold stroking against the strain of
his cock. Maybe even the heat of the other pushing into him again, maybe the
strain of Ryosuke’s knot pulling against him to hold them together; but even
that thought isn’t enough to more than hum distant warmth into his veins, with
nothing like the insistent, miserable need that was there before. He lets his
breath go in a sigh as much relief as resignation, and when he moves it’s only
to shake his head against the bed.
“No,” he says. When he tips his head he can look back over his shoulder, can
blink through the tangle of his hair to look at Ryosuke kneeling behind him, at
Ryosuke’s gaze dark and unflinching as he gazes down at Haruichi before him.
Haruichi’s spine prickles; a knot of satisfaction settles against the very base
of his spine, like a weight pinning him to the bed. “I’m fine for now.”
Ryosuke nods. “You’ll need me tomorrow too,” he says with perfect equanimity on
the words. “Maybe every day this week, until it passes.” His fingers tighten,
his grip works in against Haruichi’s body. “I’ll ask to leave practice early so
I can be home for you sooner. Everyone knows how it is when someone takes a
mate.”
Haruichi thinks about Ryosuke at baseball practice: thinks about the lift of
Ryosuke’s chin, the calm confidence that he carries in him all the time turned
radiant by the pride of the words, by the satisfaction of declaring my omega’s
in heat to the coach, to the team that Haruichi will be part of in a few years,
as soon as he’s old enough to join his brother at school. He thinks about the
widened eyes, the half-jealous congratulations, the whole group of other boys
knowing Ryosuke has taken a mate, knowing what Ryosuke will be doing to him
even if they don’t know Haruichi’s identity; and he feels himself flush, feels
his face going red with self-consciousness even as he shudders against the bed
with the force of the reaction that ripples through him.
“Mm,” Ryosuke says, and leans in closer over Haruichi as his lips pull onto the
sharp edges of that grin, that smirk as familiar to Haruichi as the round shape
of his own face. “You like that, do you?” He lifts his hand from Haruichi’s
skin, reaching up to catch his fingers into the other’s hair and push it up and
off his eyes, to leave the whole of Haruichi’s expression exposed for his view;
Haruichi goes hotter just from the thought of it. “You sure you don’t need
more?”
Haruichi presses his lips together and shakes his head hard. Over him Ryosuke’s
grin breaks into a laugh, a chuckle hot on self-satisfaction as he leans in
over Haruichi; and Haruichi looks up, his gaze drawn helplessly to the other’s
face in spite of his own present embarrassment. Ryosuke looks tired, from this
close up; his hair is dark with sweat against his forehead, and there’s a
heaviness at the corners of his eyes, a weight of exhaustion at the set of his
lips even as he laughs. He must have had a full day of practice before coming
home, Haruichi realizes, and then there’s everything they have done since then;
but there’s no sign of frustration in Ryosuke’s forehead, no trace of strain in
his laugh. He’s just warm, radiant and satisfied and visibly, entirely pleased;
and Haruichi can feel his heart ache in his chest like it’s trying to crawl
into the space of Ryosuke’s, like it wants to settle in and beat in time with
the rhythm of the other’s pulse.
“Aniki,” he says, his voice cracking on the word, on his exhaustion, on his
love; and then he’s turning with strength he didn’t know he had, and reaching
up for Ryosuke’s shoulder, and Ryosuke is tipping down to meet him without
hesitating, without even waiting for the urging of Haruichi’s fingers against
the back of his head. His head comes down, his lips part; and then his mouth is
on Haruichi’s, the heat of his breath is spilling to tangle itself into
Haruichi’s lungs, and Haruichi shuts his eyes and lets satisfaction take him.
With Ryosuke with him -- his brother, his alpha, his mate -- Haruichi can’t
imagine ever wanting to be anything other than just what he is.
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