Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/657222.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gundam_00, Gundam_&_Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Lyle_Dylandy/Neil_Dylandy
  Character:
      Neil_Dylandy, Lyle_Dylandy, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot, Comeplay, Voyeurism, Drug_Addiction, Angst, Incest, Exhibitionism
  Series:
      Part 41 of Rent-a-Gundam
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-10-21 Words: 4418
****** Several Ways Neil Dylandy May Have Developed a Certain Fetish ******
by rent_a_gundam, rubyofkukundu
Summary
     The title says it all. Several AU takes on Neil's childhood and the
     development of a certain fetish of his.
Notes
     This is part of the sprawling Rent-a-Gundam series: a university/
     rent-boy!AU that was co-written by Veda, Auto, Orange and Typo.
     Only a portion of the RAG fics have been posted on AO3. For all other
     fics in the series, check out the Rent-a-Gundam journal: http://rent-
     a-gundam.livejournal.com
     ***
     This particular story was written by Veda (rubyofkukundu).
     Originally posted here: http://rent-a-gundam.livejournal.com/
     58066.html
                                      1.


Neil and Lyle had always been close, even back when they took their happiness
for granted; back when they had a mother and a father and a baby sister; back
when they should have known better. And they did know better, of course they
did, but they also knew that it was fun to bend the rules a little, and they
knew that when their parents thought they were asleep, they could get as much
privacy in their room as they wanted.

But it was all very innocent; touching and giggling, and they were both the
same anyways (hell, they still even bathed together once a week) so really,
what difference did one make from another?

And then, far too easily, the world fell apart.

Suddenly they were in a foreign country and everything was shot to fuck.

Sure, they weren't alone; there were care-workers and nurses and counsellors
and foster parents. There were teachers and social workers and doctors and
rehabilitation programmes. But they all just merged into one faceless blur in
the end, because there's nothing like a life-shattering event to make you
realise what's important.

And when what's important doesn't even exist any more, you cling on to the
little you've got left.

Neil had Lyle and Lyle had Neil. And that's all there was to it.

As time passed and Neil was released from the hospital, they both learned to
become masters of distraction. To laugh and joke and play the fool, to indulge
themselves in any pastime that presented itself and pretend pretend pretend
that they were coping. Don't stop, don't breathe, don't think. Just keep going.

And of all the worldly, fleeting pleasures in life, there's nothing as
absorbing and convenient as sex. Not when they had each other.

They started out where they'd left off. Touching and kissing and rubbing,
clenched fists and panting breaths, against each other. But it wasn't exactly
the same. Oh no. Puberty had ensured that everything now came with a whole,
wonderful, new dimension, had coloured everything with a bloom of sexual
arousal and an epiphany of euphoria.

Neil and Lyle would have contented themselves with it all day if they could.

"Neil. Neil. Neil." A gasp. Fingers tangling in the warm cotton of pyjama
sleeves. "Neil... Neil..." Flesh on flesh and a bare thigh brushing past
knuckles. "Neil I..."

Lyle curls in on himself, tense, shuddering, and warmth floods over Neil's
palm.

Neil grins, triumphant, and gets up to find something to wipe his hand clean.

But things aren't the same as they used to be. (And it'll never not be jarring.
Never. Never.) Gone are the days of Ma and Pa downstairs, warm and comforting,
and Neil and Lyle with the whole night to themselves as long as they're quiet
as mice.

Now they're not left alone for long. They're not trusted. Because sometimes
they come home from school with bruises, and sometimes they cry in their sleep,
and sometimes they break the furniture in their frustrations.

This time it's their foster mother who comes to check that they're ok. They can
hear her climbing the stairs one by one. And they're meant to be sleeping in
different beds, but Neil's standing in the middle of the floor holding up a
hand that's sticky with his brother's semen.

There's no time to think, so Neil dives into his own bed. Hide the evidence.
Hide the evidence. And just as the door handle starts turning, he finishes
licking his hand clean.

They both lie still as statues as their foster mother stands in the doorway and
watches them. It's easy. They learnt how to mimic sleep months ago. She turns,
after a moment, satisfied with what she sees, and they hear her close the door
gently before walking back downstairs.

When Neil opens his eyes again, he sees Lyle staring at him, wide-eyed from
across the room.

Neil curls his knees up to his stomach and grins. "What's your problem?" He
whispers.

Lyle stares some more. "You ate it!" He hisses, burrowing further beneath his
bed-covers.

Neil laughs. He'd almost forgotten about it in the rush to hide. Now that he's
been reminded, he licks his lips thoughtfully for a few seconds, considering
the taste for the first time.

Lyle laughs too, and wrinkles his nose. "You dirty fucker!"

Neil flashes him a grin. "Just," he whispers, "because you're too much of a
wuss to try it. Doesn't mean that..."

"I am not too much of a wuss to try it!" Hisses Lyle, bristling with
indignation.

Neil gives him a slow smile. "Go on then." He says.

Lyle hesitates for a split second, screwing up his face, then he jumps out of
bed, and before Neil knows it, Lyle has crossed the room and wormed his way
under Neil's bed-covers, tangling their legs together.

Lyle's expression is all arrogant bravado as he reaches cold fingers down to
curl around Neil's cock. Neil gasps, more from the fact that he's still hard,
has been ever since he started jerking Lyle off twenty minutes ago, than from
the temperature. He wraps his arms around his brother's waist and shivers as
Lyle's hand squeezes.

Lyle laughs smugly. "You want me to eat it don't you. Eh? You dirty fucker.
It's making you harder just thinking about it."

Neil moans softly as Lyle starts stroking faster. It's true. The thought of it
is hot. No point in denying it. Neil curls up closer and presses his lips to
his brother's neck. "Yes..." He moans. "Yes..."

He feels Lyle's chest heave with laughter. Lyle leans his head down until his
mouth is close to Neil's ear. "You. Dirty. Fucker."

Neil moans again as his toes start to curl. "As long as..." He breathes against
Lyle's neck. "As long as you don't chicken out..."

Lyle strokes him harder at that. "Fuck you." He says.

Neil tries to laugh but his breath has caught in his throat and refuses to come
out. He can feel himself slowly coming up to the edge of... His hands fist
against Lyle's lower back.

"Lyle..." He says carefully, his whole body tensing.

Lyle looks like he's thinking for a few seconds, then he grins. Suddenly, just
as Neil feels like he might... Lyle scrambles down the bed and ducks his head
under the covers to...

Oh God. Absolutely nothing about that novel, warm, wet heat does anything to
stop Neil from coming harder than he thought was possible.

While he's still trying to catch his breath, Lyle re-emerges from beneath the
covers, victorious and smug, opening his mouth to proudly display a white
tongue.

But Neil's damned if he'll let Lyle have the upper hand for long. Before either
of them know it, Neil has pressed forwards to steal a kiss from his brother.
Lyle makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper as Neil's tongue
sweeps over his own, and stares with something close to awe when Neil pulls
back, licking his lips.

"Fuck..." says Lyle, his cheeks flushed. "You..."

Neil smirks, and swallows.


                                      2.


At school, Neil and Lyle both like to play with girls. Not that they have
anything against the boys, it's just that the girls laugh and whisper and play
pretend, and that's far more interesting than kicking a scuffed old football
around any day.

Some of the boys don't like it.

Some of the boys call them names, like 'poofter' and 'fairy' and 'queer'. But
then, those boys often end up with a black eye for their trouble; Lyle may be
smaller than most but he's quick on his feet and even quicker with his fists.
Neil chastises him for his violence when he cleans up Lyle's cuts and bruises,
but they both know that the smile Neil wears is grateful.

Some of the boys, however, don't seem to mind. But Lyle doesn't take any notice
of those.

Neil does though. Neil takes lots of notice. Neil follows them round to the
hollow behind the greenhouse, and joins them when they drop their shorts and
play at games that they know they're not meant to be playing.

There's something inexplicably fascinating about somebody else's penis (and
they learnt that word in class), Neil doesn't know what it is about them (it's
not even as if they look very nice), but they seem important somehow.
Especially, Neil realises, when the other boys are old enough to have gone
through 'the change'.

Boys like James McConnell, who can grow and grow until he's rock hard (and big;
bigger than Neil would ever have thought possible), and the way he looks at
Neil when Neil touches it is so captivating that Neil can't bring himself to
stop.

The first time Neil sees a boy come, he's shocked to silence, and a little bit
disgusted, quite frankly, at how messy it all is. The second time, Neil is less
disgusted and more curious. The third time, Neil's already wondering when the
fourth time is going to be.

"Use your mouth." Says James McConnell, when he's not busy biting his lip to
stop himself from moaning too loudly. "It's good if you use your mouth."

Neil gives it a try. He's not sure which part of it is meant to be good. As far
as he can tell, it's uncomfortable and difficult, and when James McConnell
ejaculates over his tongue without warning, it doesn't taste very nice either.

Still, Neil doesn't stop, he does it the next time too, and the next. "I'll do
it to you." Says James McConnell, panting. "When you're old enough, I'll do it
to you, and trust me, you'll like it." Neil's not so sure about that, but James
McConnell just ruffles his hair and tells him he's doing a good job.

But that was then and this is now.

This is Neil and Lyle going to a new school in a new country, where the kids
speak with accents and the corridors smell funny, and Neil's eyes are puffy and
red because it's all a little too much to take.

"Come on," says Lyle as they lie in bed that night, "it's not so bad." Even
though Lyle's eyes are just as red and puffy and they both know it.

Neil hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about it;
tries not to think about the things he's not meant to think about. The floor
was red with blood. It looked nothing like the way it looks in the movies.

And the way he heard Ma scream when they...

"Neil!" Lyle's eyes are staring into his, bright and sharp, then Lyle leans
forward and kisses him.

This is their new game. They've only played it once before, when Neil woke up
one morning to find Lyle touching himself and gasping into their shared
mattress. Neil had rolled him over and tried to kiss him then, because somehow
Neil was hard too, and he'd wanted... he didn't even know, but when Lyle had
reached down to touch Neil's erection, it had felt so shockingly, strangely
good that they hadn't stopped until they were both sticky and exhausted.

This time, Lyle reaches down to touch Neil again, and it works. It works so
well that whatever Neil had been thinking about flies right out of his head,
until he's breathing heavily and reaching down to touch Lyle too, eyelids
fluttering as he feels the warmth of it in his palm.

Then a memory flitters through Neil's mind, unexpectedly, from nowhere. I'll do
it to you, and trust me, you'll like it.

His eyes snap open. He'd almost forgotten that there was a time when he knew
what happiness felt like. The memory of it weighs uncomfortably on his
thoughts, oddly shaped, as if it doesn't quite fit into the rest of them. And
it won't let him go.

So Neil sits up, and ignores Lyle's protests as he manhandles him up to sit
against the headboard. Then he ducks his head between Lyle's thighs and listens
as Lyle's protests morph into a strangled whine.

The feel of it is warm and familiar, but it doesn't last long. Lyle shivers,
his fingers clench in Neil's hair, and he comes hard, spurting across Neil's
tongue.

The taste is familiar too. Very familiar. It tastes like a worn school uniform
and laughter behind dusty panes of glass. It tastes like an exercise book full
of homework and Pa meeting them at the school gates. It tastes like the crunch
of gravel as the car pulls into the driveway when they arrive...

...home.

"Neil?" Lyle's looking at him with a confused expression. "Neil? What..."

Neil smiles as he lies back down. He doesn't quite know what it is, but he
feels so... Lyle reaches down to stroke Neil again and Neil lets him, hands
clutching at the front of his brother's shirt. And all the time, as Neil pants
and squirms and gasps, he can taste it.

Trust me, you'll like it.


                                      3.


Just when Neil is not sure that he can take this world anymore, just when he's
almost on the brink of stealing his foster father's gun and finding those cunts
who fucked his life to hell, he's saved by an angel.

The angel doesn't have a name; he's just some kid from the year above with a
toothy grin and expensive sneakers. Neil finds him one lunchtime, surrounded by
a gaggle of boys in an out-of-the-way bathroom. Neil had gone in there to be
alone and vent his frustrations on the crumbling plaster walls, but he's far
from alone this time.

They all turn to stare when Neil enters, but it doesn't last for long, "It's
just one of the new kids." And they continue their hushed conversation.

As Neil steps closer, he can see that money's being exchanged, although for
what, he can't tell.

The other kids filter away, one by one, and as the crowd dissipates, Neil
builds up the courage to ask what's going on.

The boy displays his grin. "How much money have you got on you?"

Neil reaches into his pocket to look; he doesn't have much, but then, his
foster parents don't give him an allowance, only enough cash to get food each
day.

The boy doesn't let it faze him. "Here," he says, "that'll do for now. I'll
give you a special offer, seeing as it's your first." And he presses a small
bundle into Neil's hand.

And there it is, wrapped in plastic. Neil doesn't know it yet, but he's holding
his salvation in his palm.

The angel shows him how to take it then, and when Neil finally floats back to
reality, which isn't truly until sometime that evening, he realises that he's
just found the answer to all his problems.

Lyle's watching him with a strange expression. "What the fuck's gotten into you
today, Neil?"

But Neil just grins and considers how he can find enough money to get some
more.

It takes a whole two weeks of going without lunch for Neil to scratch together
enough cash, and when he finally visits his angel, with a handful of notes this
time, his angel smiles.

Neil does it again after that, and again and again, and even shares some of it
with Lyle if he can, until their foster parents begin to worry that Neil keeps
asking for more money, and they start making sandwiches for them to take to
school instead.

Neil goes to his angel with a heavy heart that day, but the angel just spreads
his hands and says there's nothing he can do.

Three days later, with no sign of any more money forthcoming, and Neil feeling
so on edge that he almost can't take it, he asks his angel if there's anything,
anything, that he could possibly do to get what he wants.

The angel considers it for a moment, and then his toothy grin spreads across
his face. "You've got a twin brother."

Getting Lyle to agree to that is far too easy. When Neil drags him into the
bathroom, Lyle's already hard in his pants.

But the angel doesn't make a move, just gestures with a thrust of his chin. "Go
on then," he says. "Together."

Kissing Lyle is the easiest thing in the world, and so is taking off Lyle's
shirt and letting Lyle take off his. They've done it so many times before,
kissing and touching and making each other gasp, but this is the first time
they've had to perform for an audience.

Lyle takes to it like a fish to water, and Neil's not that far behind. Lyle
grins lewdly, and arches his back when Neil takes hold of his cock, and Neil
moans, as breathy as he can make it, when Lyle takes hold of his. Their
audience is enjoying the show, if the way Neil's angel has his hand down his
pants is anything to go by.

Neil and Lyle draw it out as much as they can. Lyle stops to kiss Neil's jaw,
and Neil pauses to bite Lyle's shoulder. Lyle rolls his hips as Neil drags
fingernails up the base of his cock, and Neil makes noises in the back of his
throat as Lyle bites down on a nipple.

The angel has had to prop himself against the wall and his movements are
erratic. "Come on his face," he pants. "Come all over his face and lick it
off."

Lyle hesitates for a second, but Neil had said he would do anything to get
another fix and he'd meant it. He drags Lyle's face down to his crotch and
strokes himself faster, fingers clenching in Lyle's hair as he brings himself
to orgasm.

They both moan for the benefit of their audience when Neil hauls Lyle up to
lick a broad swipe across the mess over his cheekbone. The taste isn't so
great, but Neil only cares about one thing at the moment; he wouldn't stop for
the world. Lyle moans again, his eyes falling shut as Neil kisses his way
stickily across the bridge of Lyle's nose, but the moan is real this time,
Lyle's come spattering warm against Neil's thighs.

"Fuck," says the angel, jerking, when Neil pulls back to run his fingers
through Lyle's semen and suck them into his mouth too. Neil grins messily and
watches the angel from beneath his lashes as the boy stands up shakily and
pushes his hair out of his eyes.

Before Neil can say anything, a sticky hand is thrust in his face, and he hears
Lyle hold his breath beside him when he leans forward to make a show of licking
his angel's fingers clean.

"You're fucking beautiful," says the angel breathily, and pushes two bags into
Neil's hand, more than Neil had even asked for, before he straightens up and
saunters out of the room.

This time, as Neil and Lyle both get their fix, naked, together on the tiled
floor and the world fading to white, the taste of semen lies thick on Neil's
tongue.


                                      4.


One day, Lyle comes home from school grinning like he's just won the lottery.

Neil scowls at him, "Where the hell have you been, Lyle?" Their foster parents
have just given Neil an earful about how it's important to come home promptly
and together and how it's somehow Neil's fault if Lyle manages to get into
trouble by himself. Of course, trust Lyle to come home only after their foster
parents have gone out to buy groceries, and so miss the telling off completely.

"Where indeed," says Lyle, smirking as he sits on his bed and kicks off his
shoes.

Neil watches, only half interested and more than half angry, as Lyle rummages
in his bag. A few seconds later, Lyle pulls out a crumpled magazine and
brandishes it in the air.

"Tadaa!"

From the garish coloured paper, it's recognisable; from the pictures of tits on
the cover, it's utterly unmistakeable. Neil's eyes widen, surprise overtaking
anger completely. "You've got a dirty magazine!"

Lyle places the contraband on his pillow and smoothes it out. "Yup!"

"Where'd you get it from?" Neil climbs onto Lyle's bed to get a better look.

Lyle leers at him. "That's for me to know~"

"You haven't been hanging around with those big kids who smoke down that alley
again, have you? You're going to get into so much trouble if you're found out!"

But Lyle doesn't need to answer that one; his smug expression says everything.

Neil watches as Lyle opens the magazine out to the first page, which shows a
rather well-endowed girl on her hands and knees and in nothing but her panties.
Lyle tugs his shirt over his head, and then undoes his flies.

"Now," says Lyle, pushing his jeans and underwear down to his knees, "my
magazine and I need to spend some quality time together."

Neil watches as Lyle starts stroking himself, turning the page to expose yet
more tits. It's hardly the first time Neil's seen Lyle wanking; two 14 year-old
boys sharing a room soon puts an end to any inhibitions either might have about
masturbating in front of the other.

"Oi, Neil," says Lyle, a breathy tint to his voice, "are you going to join in,
or are you just going to sit there like a moron and put me off?"

Neil snorts and begins to undress. "Fine," he says, "but if they find it, this
magazine is yours, right? It's nothing to do with me."

Lyle hums in a way that suggests he couldn't care less, and turns the page
again.

Neil sits back on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable, and runs his
fingers up the underside of his cock. The magazine shows yet more pictures of
girls with their tits out, and no panties this time either. At the bottom of
the page there is even a picture of one girl spreading her pussy wide.

To tell the truth, Neil's not really interested.

Lyle is. Lyle's eyes have almost glazed over, and he's pumping his fist as fast
as if he were in some kind of national wanking championship. And Neil can't
help laughing at that image.

Lyle turns his head to glare at Neil. "Shut up, you." But, if anything, that
just makes Neil laugh more. Angrily, Lyle turns the page.

And on this new page, the posturing girls have been joined by pictures of cocks
sliding into orifices. Now the magazine is getting more interesting. Neil bites
his lip and strokes himself faster. Beside him, Lyle is shivering.

Lyle turns the page again. More orifices, more tits, and a large picture of
some girl sucking on a cock as if her life depends on it.

Collectively, Neil and Lyle gasp.

"Such a fucking slut," pants Lyle, fingers twisting over the head of his cock.
"I'd let her suck my dick any day of the..." He turns the page.

And there she is again. A double page spread. Only this time, the cock is
barely in shot, with the camera focussed on her face instead, which is dripping
with lines of semen, as she holds two fingers, smeared white, up to her lips to
lick...

Neil's brain trips over itself.

He didn't even know that sort of thing was possible.

Suddenly his mind presents him with an idea, and the more he thinks about it
(can't stop thinking about it; can't stop), the more the world slows around
him, and the louder his heart beats in his ears.

He turns to Lyle and Lyle stares at him in return, wild-eyed.

"Would you ever..." is as far as Neil gets before Lyle comes all over his hand.

For a few seconds, they do nothing but stare at each other, panting.

Then Lyle goes to get up, but Neil is still hard and that idea still won't let
him go. He looks his brother in the eye. "Eat it."

Lyle swallows audibly, stares at his messy hand then shakes his head. "Hell
no."

Neil spreads his knees wider to change the angle of his hips, strokes himself
faster, and greets Lyle with a grin. "I dare you to eat it."

Lyle never, never turns down a dare. Not if he can't help it. Neil can almost
see the different sides of the argument warring it out in Lyle's head. But all
the while, Neil still can't help from glancing sidelong at the strings of semen
covering Lyle's hand.

Lyle looks back up with defiance in his eye. "No." He stares at Neil. "I dare
you to eat it instead!"

Then the next thing Lyle says is, "Oh, fucking hell, Neil." Because Neil has
shocked them both by grabbing Lyle's wrist as soon as the words 'dare you' are
out of Lyle's mouth, and running his tongue across Lyle's palm.

Lyle moans brokenly, and so does Neil.

Then Lyle snatches his hand away, but the taste of his semen still hangs heavy
on Neil's tongue, and before Neil even knows it, he's coming all over his own
fingers.

Lyle starts laughing at that, but he's soon interrupted as Neil dives towards
him, attempting to smear his sticky hand all over Lyle's lips. Lyle twists his
head out of the way, just in time, so that Neil misses and instead leaves a
slick trail all the way down Lyle's neck, shining from his chin to his
collarbone.

Lyle's chest heaves. "You bastard, Neil!" And he lunges towards Neil with his
own messy fingers. Neil ducks, but he's not fast enough, and he finds himself
pushed onto his back with Lyle's weight bearing down on him and Lyle's fingers
smearing down his cheek and pushing past his lips.

Neil whimpers.

Still, he may have lost one battle, but he hasn't lost the war. Neil retaliates
by licking and sucking on the fingers in his mouth with abandon, and he's
rewarded for his efforts by a moan from his brother.

"Fuck, Neil."

Neil smirks around Lyle's fingers, triumphant, but it's his own turn to moan
when, grinning like the smug little shit that he is, Lyle retracts his fingers
then shoves them straight into his own mouth.

The taste still sharp on his tastebuds, Neil thinks two things. One, which he
already knew, is that Lyle is incredibly easy. Two, is that Neil has a few new
dares to try out on him from now on.
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