Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2566160.
  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
  Additional Tags:
      No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Established
      Relationship, Sibling_Incest, Semi-Public_Sex, Hand_Jobs, still_super
      sorry
  Series:
      Part 2 of Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-04 Words: 1585
****** Preference ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Ryosuke comes after Haruichi when he leaves." Haruichi abstains from
     participation and Ryosuke notices.
Ryosuke comes after Haruichi when he leaves.
It’s not a huge surprise. Haruichi has spent the last hour with Ryosuke nerve-
wrackingly close, close enough that Ryosuke’s knee bumped his thigh when his
brother moved and close enough that he could hear every bubble of laughter in
the other’s throat. And Ryosuke was close enough that the angle of his body
blocked line-of-sight to Haruichi’s skin, close enough that he could murmur
“Stay quiet,” for Haruichi’s ears alone while he pushed up the back of his
brother’s t-shirt, trailed his fingers warm over the back edge of Haruichi’s
jeans where no one else in the room could see the tauntingly suggestive slide
of his fingers over skin. Haruichi is sure that had at least as much to do with
the heat in his blood as the actual visual of Miyuki panting breathless and
sticky on the floor in front of him, is certain that Ryosuke knows as well as
he does that the tightness at the front of his pants has far more to do with
his brother than with the catcher.
By the time Haruichi has an excuse to scramble to his feet and edge towards the
door, his entire body is tingling, aching with desire to be touched and the
need for satisfaction. He should have his dorm to himself for another few
minutes, at least, and when all it will take is a handful of seconds he’s not
really worried about getting interrupted.
Still. He’s telling himself he’ll just jerk off, doing his best to convince
himself that his own touch will be satisfaction enough, but there’s a shudder
of gratitude when he hears the footsteps coming behind him, telltale evidence
even before Ryosuke’s voice orders him to “Stop.”
Haruichi’s feet stall, lock him in place under the golden lights of the
corridor; he doesn’t move, just stands there trembling with painful desire and
anticipation in equal measure while Ryosuke steps around him, turns to face his
brother while he draws his gaze ostentatiously over the other’s body.
“You’re shaking.” Ryosuke steps in close, reaches out to hook his two smallest
fingers into the corner of Haruichi’s pocket. The contact is this side of
brotherly, if only just, and only if the observer doesn’t notice how fast
Haruichi’s breath is coming and how hard he is through his jeans. “You’ve been
hard for an hour.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and it’s entirely true. Haruichi doesn’t have
a defense, doesn’t even have a comback; all he can do is take a breath that
strains so loud in his throat it’s as good as agreement and stare through his
hair as Ryosuke’s free hand settles in against his stomach, his fingers finally
creeping past the line of Haruichi’s jeans.
“Why didn’t you join in?” Ryosuke’s voice is purring, taunting Haruichi with a
question he already knows the answer to. The lights overhead are too bright,
they warn of possible interruption the moment any of the doors along the
corridor creak open.
“We’ll get caught,” Haruichi says instead of answering, his voice cracking high
on the words. He’s not pulling away, though. It feels as if the heat in his
blood is keeping him still, holding him in place as all the strength drains
warm out of his limbs.
“They’re busy still,” Ryosuke says, and shoves at Haruichi’s hip so he goes
stumbling back against the wall. “It’s just motivation to hurry.” He shoves
Haruichi’s button loose with a thumb, drags the zipper free with the same.
There’s no defense if they’re caught now, with Haruichi’s fly down and
Ryosuke’s hand all but inside his clothes, but Haruichi’s breathing hard and
the cool of the air is promising the satisfaction of friction that his stomach
is aching for.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ryosuke reminds him. He leans in closer, rests
his mouth in against Haruichi’s ear so it’s almost but not quite a sideways
kiss. His hips are pressing Haruichi to the wall, the pressure of his own jeans
reminding Haruichi that Ryosuke hasn’t come either. “Why didn’t you
participate?” Fingers push at Haruichi’s boxers, shove the fabric down and
aside and then Ryosuke’s fingers are on him, dragging up over hard-flushed skin
with more temptation than true satisfaction.
“Aniki.” Haruichi gets one hand up, drops a shaking hand heavy at Ryosuke’s
shoulder. He can feel Ryosuke laugh into his neck, amusement probably at his
expense spilling against his skin.
“Let me tell you what I think.” The fingers vanish, sensation retreating as
quickly as it came, and Haruichi has to bite back the volume of his moan in
consideration of their position. Ryosuke sighs against his shoulder, his
knuckles skimming against Haruichi’s length as his fingers push over the front
of his own pants. “I think you didn’t want Miyuki.” The click of a zipper, a
huff of relief from Ryosuke; he’s pushing his clothes down, they’re catching
against Haruichi’s own jeans, and then there’s contact again, hot skin-on-skin
that steals Haruichi’s breath even before he identifies the pressure as
Ryosuke’s cock rubbing against his own.
Fingers close around him, draw the heat of his brother in flush against
Haruichi’s own length, and his hand seizes into a fist, dragging at Ryosuke’s
clothes as the other boy shifts his weight, braces his feet out wider to steady
himself. Haruichi can feel the deliberation in Ryosuke’s inhale, the stutter of
breath before his fingers slide up, dragging friction in their wake and
pressing Ryosuke in so close against Haruichi that the younger boy can’t think
for the heat.
“You wanted this,” Ryosuke says. He’s pushing in hard, pinning Haruichi back
against the wall, and the light overhead is bright enough that Haruichi can tip
his head down and watch Ryosuke’s fingers stroking up over both of them. He
catches a glimpse of pink-flushed skin, the shine of precome against the edges
of Ryosuke’s fingers, and then he has to look away, his cheeks flaring too hot
to stand. But he’s fumbling with his other hand, curling his fingers in against
the other side to compensate for the grip Ryosuke can’t quite manage around
both of them, and if his motion is jerky and clumsy Ryosuke laughs and it
sounds nearly like approval.
“You wanted me touching you.” Ryosuke turns his head, lets the wall catch the
weight of his forehead so he can pant directly against Haruichi’s ear, his
words coming almost-silent for how soft they’re whispered. “You didn’t want to
come without my hands on you, without me leading you there.” He gasps a breath;
Haruichi has his own head tipped back, his legs are starting to shake from the
rippling heat rising in his blood. Ryosuke laughs again, soft and shaky, and
Haruichi can feel his fingers tighten before he drags up slow and taunting.
“Did you wish it was you with my fingers inside you?” His words aren’t any
louder but they’re purring, soft and rich with implication, and from how close
they are he can’t miss the rush of blood that makes Haruichi’s cock jerk in his
grip. “Or were you thinking about me in front of you begging for your touch?”
Their fingers are sliding slippery over heated skin, Haruichi can’t keep his
weight over his knees. He slumps back against the wall, turns his head in to
press closer, to drag his lips against Ryosuke’s cheek.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke purrs. The name sounds like smoke and shadows in his voice.
“Is this what you wanted?” and it is, it’s exactly what Haruichi didn’t know to
even imagine, this slick slide of heat and friction over him. He whimpers
instead of answering, jerks boneless in Ryosuke’s hold instead of speaking, and
Ryosuke’s laughter is warm in his ear as Haruichi comes between them both.
He’s too dazed to notice Ryosuke’s stuttered breathing, too lost in the dizzy
wave of pleasure to realize how close Ryosuke is himself until there’s a splash
of warmth against the edge of his bare skin and a hiss of satisfaction into his
shoulder. Ryosuke keeps his hold even as Haruichi lets go, drags the last
shivers of sensation from both of them; then his fingers loosen, he’s pulling a
step away, and for a moment Haruichi doesn’t have even the cover of his
brother’s body to shield him from sight.
“It’s fine,” Ryosuke murmurs. He pushes up Haruichi’s shirt, drags his sticky
fingers across his brother’s stomach to add to the mess already there before he
pulls their clothes back into place, moving so efficiently Haruichi has barely
regained his balance before he’s covered and dressed again, with only the damp
across his stomach and the languid heat in his limbs to speak to their
interlude. Ryosuke touches his shirt, presses the fabric in against his skin so
the cloth catches uncomfortably against the hidden evidence. “Go back to your
dorm and clean yourself up.”
He’s turning away before Haruichi can form his thoughts into words, returning
back down the hallway while the other stares at his shoulders and tries to form
protest or thanks or confusion into a coherent sentence. By the time Ryosuke
turns the corner and vanishes, Haruichi is still silent under the weight of
options. But his skin is warm, and his fingertips are tingling with pleasure,
and when he think about Ryosuke coming after him, about the purr of Ryosuke’s
voice and the friction of his fingertips, Haruichi can’t even try to restrain
the shy pleasure in his smile.
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