Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/870661.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Jake_Puckerman/Noah_Puckerman
  Character:
      Jake_Puckerman, Noah_Puckerman
  Additional Tags:
      Incest
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Puckerman_Genes
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-05 Words: 3371
****** Something About The Fire ******
by rggellar
Summary
     Sequel to 'The Puckerman Genes'. Jake's been kept by Noah for a
     while, but there's something about his brother's fire...
It was his sixth hour and nothing had changed. He could still feel his own
breath heavy against himself, damp droplets collecting where spit gathered
around the outsides of his mouth. Dehydration was setting in. His lips were
cracking slightly, his throat tightening, his body begging for water to soothe
itself. Jake Puckerman had never gone so long without water. He danced; he knew
the value of staying hydrated. The body began to rebel after a certain amount
of time, after the throat began to beg for anything to moisten the walls of
itself, after what little saliva you could muster began to find its way to the
tongue. Silk ran over his tongue, silk covering plastic in a simple, homemade
device. An one night stand’s lost scarf and a squash ball prised open Jake’s
mouth, his teeth digging too deeply into the black orb that prised his jaw open
to let him shake his jaw free, the scarf binding it tightly to his neck so that
any attempt to saw open the silk with his teeth would risk tightening the
already heavy tension on his airway. He’d tried, slowly at first, gently, but
he became desperate, and he became dehydrated, and his jaw didn’t move as
smoothly as he would have liked. Instead it grated and pulled, and the silk
shifted clumsily and heavily as it rolled, every movement sending uncomfortable
sensations through his body as sheer fabric scraped and grated against rough
incisors. He’d never liked those kinds of things. Sensations had a tendency to
race through his body, prickling every last hair and raising goosebumps as he
shivered. Things like knives scraping on a countertop, or the way old, thin,
crushed carpet under flat-soled shoes moved underfoot. Jake couldn’t stand
them. Sensations did as much to mess with his head as any torture ever could.
That wasn’t what he was thinking in hour six, though. Hour six had arrived and
he had long given up pulling as his restraints. They were tight and his body
was weakening. He was running out of energy almost entirely. The strangest
thing about hour six was how little he knew of himself. Sightless and bound
tightly so that even the smallest of movements took more willpower than he
could muster, he’d become settled in the position he was in and the tight ropes
around his legs and arms were beginning to numb them slightly. It was half
restricted bloodflow and half cramping. The combination was killing his sense
of perception. He knew where his body had started. He knew the cross shape he
was spread in across the bed, he knew how his head was at the foot of the bed
and his feet tied to the headboard. He knew he hadn’t moved from that position
in the last six hours. As the numbing began, as time passed, as his body
dehydrated and begged him for the smallest of droplets, Jake began to doubt
himself. He didn’t doubt himself in the way that people talked about people
having epiphanies, or losing their deeply held beliefs. Jake Puckerman had
begun to doubt his body, that he knew where each limb lay, that what little he
was feeling was real.Everything about it felt unreal, like a nightmarish story
from a book. He craved freedom in the way that Rapunzel must have, trapped
alone and doubting that anything exists beyond what little the captive has come
to know.
Did anyone even notice he was gone? Of course not. He wasn’t missing. He was
down in Los Angeles, sitting in a tiny little apartment with an old bed and
paper thin walls. He could even hear people moving on the other side of wall,
watching television, coming home from work, making dinner. He’d never bothered
to scream. There was no point. He knew what would happen soon enough. He might
have hated his captor in the moment for it, but Jake Puckerman had never known
someone willing to do this. It seemed insane, but time had passed and he’d had
nothing but thoughts. Maybe it was deliriousness, but Jake knew he’d never had
a male figure in his life. Not a real one. Not someone who wanted him around,
not someone willing to go to extremes just to keep him close, not someone whose
anger and violence wasn’t out of hate, but out of love, out of protection,
marking him readily so that every bruise on his body was a badge of ownership,
the searing fires of fresh pain marking him as a person who was loved.
That was the strangest thing about it all. Jake had no idea why he was reacting
the way he was. His body was dehydrating and he didn’t want water, he wanted to
be givenwater, to be allowedto drink. He knew that the man who kept him had his
reasons, and he knew not to doubt them. Time had changed his language. He’d
lost sight of the name. It wasn’t a name he even knew well, just a nickname
that had floated around his childhood like a tiny little insect, buzzing in to
remind him how unspecial he was, how unwanted, how unloved. He wasn’t his
father’s only son. There were probably dozens. For now, there was Jake
Puckerman, and there was Noah Puckerman. They called him Puck. He made Jake
call him Noah.
He wanted Noah to come back more than anything else in the world.
Time passed slowly as the door creaked open. It was the sound of old wood
moving on old hinges that bore the stress of time and age like a badge,
something to be proud of, a constant reminder that time was not on the side of
the rickety old LA apartment, and that it was still standing regardless. He
knew Noah had returned. There was a trademark sound of breathing in the air, a
half-sigh that formed when the elder Puckerman returned from his work, every
day a little more broken and defeated. It was something Jake could only read in
Puck’s face, the way he spoke about his work, about what he did, about how
little it did for him. He heard movement mix with the breathing as Noah moved
around the bed. Having someone else in the room was helping his sense of
perception dramatically. He could hear faint rustlings, telltale movements,
little things that his body had been slowly adjusting to hear as the blindfold
forced it to look elsewhere for signs of life. A hand came near Jake’s head,
fingertips touching lightly to his skin. It sent shivers down his spine. His
whole body wanted to react, to pull at his ropes, but they held tight and he
shifted a mere half-inch.
“Hey there.”
Noah was speakingto him. It felt heavenly, like a fire that warmed every inch
of his body. There was something about the fire he couldn’t ever say no to. It
was the first time in days that he had spoken to him. He had only heard words
come tumbling from his mouth in small, fragmented versions, little syllables
dripped during sex, exclamations he never intended at those moments where his
body was least under his own control. It was the thrill of hearing his half-
brother’s voice that consumed him as his bonds were untied, that kept him from
resisting, from moving in any way that could be considered more than a
reaction. He hung on Noah’s very existence, waiting for more words, waiting for
more of his brother,of his family.In the thinly tiled walls of the bathroom he
heard more, little words echoing as Noah bent Jake’s dragged body into
different shapes.
“Stay still.”
“Open.”
“Good.”
It was the goodthat got him. Maybe it was the sheer length of time he’d spent
tied up, maybe it was something about being with his family, but Jake felt
himself well up as the word good travelled over his skin and down into his
core. It was a bullet that made him almost oblivious to the water that began to
enter him, the cleaning that Puck was doing in Jake’s chosen position, but his
reverie was broken well enough as run-off began to pool by his head and, in his
dehydrated state, he began to drink eagerly. It was as though he was tasting
heaven, his body allowing him more control with each drink, his throat
unseizing, his limbs loosening, his lips filling out as droplets of water found
their way into the hard cracks and softened them. His brother had known,
clearly. He must have. This was Jake’s reward for being a good boy, for
waiting, and he soaked it up as though he were little more than a sponge that
Puck had left in the bath.
“Up,” his brother commanded, and although he wanted to keep drinking, although
he hadn’t had his fill, Jake found himself rising, obeying, wanting to please
him. He hadn’t even noticed Puck undress. He stood unsteadily before his
brother, both of them naked, Puck’s cock stiff and ready. The sight of it made
Jake’s own cock react, thickness entering it inch by inch as Jake’s eyes
travelled back to Puck’s eager lips.
“You want it, don’t you?” He asked. Jake didn’t know how to react. It was a
question that he hadn’t been asked before. Puck had spent so much time taking
what he wanted that Jake had never questioned how little he’d been left to
choose. Puck wantedhim, and that was good, right? Jake was wanted.He was cared
for.He had a brother.Phrases swam in his head. Statements of belonging. Puck
wanted him so he obeyed. Being wanted was all Jake had ever hoped for. Now he
had it.
He knew Noah was watching carefully as he stumbled towards the bathroom door.
Jake was surprised that he wasn’t stopped. He’d been tied up for hours. Maybe
his brother trusted him now? Was that it? Was this a sign that Noah knew what
Jake was feeling, what had slowly bubbled to the surface with each scream that
come from his lips over the past two weeks? He climbed onto the bed and pulled
at the ropes, making a statement he knew his brother would understand.
“Please,” he whimpered, begging in his voice, his fingers still too stiff to
loop the rope around his wrists the way Noah had. “I want to be yours.” He
fumbled with the ropes as a hand laid over his own. Noah stood before him
smiling, his fingers wrapping gently around the rope, pulling the half-open
knots around his wrists to tighten them. It wasn’t long before his arms were
once again tight against the bed, and then his legs, and his body was cross-
shaped over the dirty sheets just as it had been before. It felt right to him.
This was how Noah wanted him. This was how Noah showed his love. He wanted
nothing more than Noah’s affection, and he knew it came with pleasing him. He
was happy to please him.
“If you want to be mine...” A half-sentence fell from Noah’s mouth and Jake’s
eyes darted to him, his head reaching back to see Puck’s hard cock sticking out
over his face, shadowing him. Jake had a monster between his legs, he knew
that, but Puck had nothing to scoff at. It wasn’t as big, but it was
substantial, and every swollen inch of it seemed tailor made for the shape of
Jake’s throat. Noah’s hands found their way to his face, and fingers slipped in
between his lips. He opened his jaw completely, his head back against the edge
of the bed, as Noah thrust himself inside, finally finishing his sentence.
“F-fuck... I want nothing but... fuck... but you.” The words were all Jake
wanted to hear. Noah wanted him and only him. That was enough. He could hear
the fire in his voice, the sheer wantof it all. It was enough for him as his
only recently-slick throat began to take the length of Noah, the head pushing
its way down with thrusting motions, his body becoming his brother’s willing
fuck-toy. He began to moan around it, urging him onwards, garbled sounds from
deep inside him trying to tell Noah to thrust harder,and faster,and to use
him.Jake had only ever wanted to belong, and to belong meant being of use. This
was something he could do. This was possibly all he could do. He felt the head
break past his tonsils and deep inside, his gag reflex suppressed only by sheer
force of will. Puck’s entire cock was in his throat now, his balls resting
gently over Jake’s nose. They sat comfortably as Jake began to swallow, to move
his throat muscles, trying desperately to gain any missing pieces of his
brother he’d been denied. All he could feel was the sheer girth of his brother
filling his throat, and hands slowly clamping down around his neck. He began to
understand, and the thrusts came fast and heavy as Noah’s grip tightened,
Jake’s throat pressing tighter and tighter around his brother’s cock. He
couldn’t think. He found himself struggling for the first time in hours, trying
not to be in thatposition, hoping his brother would realise just how much it
hurt, how little air it left him with as Jake desperately tried to breathe
through his nose, but the burning gave way to something deeper, and Noah’s
hands kept a stable grip, and before long his body was moaning and urging him
on again, painful swallows gripping the powerfully thrusting flesh. This was
his use, to ride out the pain and please his brother. It worked. He was
surviving, and Noah’s own grunts seemed to suggest he was taking more than a
little pleasure from his tight muscles.
His body had become a separate entity, something that he simply knew was there,
something that reacted to Noah’s persistence as Jake’s mind continued to hope
and pray that he was good enough, that this was truly what his brother needed
from him, that this was love he couldn’t find anywhere else. His body sucked in
air as his mind panicked. His neck throbbed as he worried that it wasn’t
enough. He was so certain that Noah pulling out of his mouth was a sign of
failure, that he’d not made the right swallowing motions, that his throat
wasn’t slick enough, that Noah’s hands gripping him was a sign that he wasn’t
tight enough. Fear ran through him like a river, consuming his thoughts
entirely, panic and fear masking almost completely his brother’s fastening of
ropes to his legs, pulling them backwards so he spread, presenting his ass to
the wall, his toes dipping lightly against his forearms as the ropes pulled
tight against the old metal rails of Noah’s ancient bed. Jake sucked in air as
fingers slick with spit entered him, pulled him apart, checked that the work
his brother had done previously hadn’t been for nothing.
Two fingers entered his ass easily, a dull pain the only resistance, and Noah’s
other hand inspected Jake’s brown flesh appreciatively, fingers running over
the edges of the bruises that were showing, every light push against a dark
mark sending pain through Jake and more blood to his already stiff cock. Puck
adjusted himself, resting on his knees as he lined himself up with the marked
flesh that Jake presented to him. The younger Puckerman raised his head,
watching as his brother reached forward for his dark, swollen penis, fingers
wrapping around it as best they could, thumb sitting against the length of it.
Jake wondered what he was doing, why he was holding it like that,trying to
understand his brother’s movements, but a sharp pain shot through him as he
tried to decide whether it was a good sign that he held him that way, and a cry
leapt from Jake’s lips as Noah’s cock prised him open with only the lubrication
that his aching throat had provided. His entire body rocked against the bed as
Noah began to thrust. He was using Jake’s cock as an anchor, something to hold
on to, the movement of his thumb running over the head with each powerful
thrust that stung less and less as time went by.
Jake’s thoughts unbroken, he lifted his head again, watching Noah thrust into
him, his eyes pleading for more, pleading for him to be harder, faster, for his
ass to earn more and more bruises. They were badges that he’d won, medals that
stated he had pleasedhis brother, that he had satiated all his darkest
appetites, and that in the dingy room that Noah Puckerman rented for far too
much per week, Jake had found a home.It was somewhere he was wanted, somewhere
he had a purpose, a place where his body could act without his mind, and his
lips could cry for more before he could even think that he wanted it, that four
letter cries of pleasure could fly into the air with each thrust of Noah’s cock
into the swollen, bumpy flesh of his beaten ass, the ridges of his hole
engorged with blood and bruising, his insides warm and full with the feeling of
thick, thrusting Puckerman so deep that Jake wanted to cum, to shoot a load all
over his brother’s hand as he leaned back, riding him as though it was no
effort at all. Noah Puckerman made fucking look cool. Jake had to wonder how
his brother could seem so perfect at what he does. He was flawed, certainly,
just as any person was, but Noah’s hard, fast and firm thrusts dug deeper and
deeper with every second and the man himself wasn’t showing signs of
exhaustion, just a smirk that he knew meant that Noah was enjoying himself,
that his brother was making good use of his ass, and that all his worries and
fears that he wasn’t able to please him were wrong. Noah Puckerman loved his
ass, and Jake loved him for it.
“Please,” he said, words finally leaving his mouth out of more than a cock-
struck reflex, “Use me.” The words sounded almost pathetic but Noah understood,
Jake knew it, he knew his brother heard the meaning in his voice, and the older
boy’s frame loomed large over him as the thrusting escalated further. Puck’s
arms pressed against the ropes as he leaned in, pulling on the ropes,
stretching out the dark boy’s legs ever more, cries of pain coming from his
mouth, the flesh of his asshole as exposed to the pounding cock as it would
ever be. Jake felt lips on his neck, sucking on his skin, kissing the spot
where his sweat dripped down, where the vein in his neck throbbed with each
painful thrust of his brother’s hips. More and more of Jake Puckerman seemed to
open up with each passing second, as though he was being prised open, as though
every last inch of him would belong to Noah, no more secrets, nothing more to
hide, nothing but the two of them. Noah’s cool exterior broke as he cried out,
and Jake heard the room echo with his brother’s moaning as his body bore down
heavier on his limbs, the ropes pulling tight, the ancient posts creaking and
groaning, begging for the stress to stop. Fire enveloped him, filled him, moved
into every inch of his ass as his brother came, and Jake found himself moaning
too, not out of orgasm but a different sort of pleasure, the kind that came
with knowing he was useful, that he’d done good, and that his brother had made
the most of him that he possibly could.
It was a short while before Noah stood, pulling a few items of clothing back
before letting himself fall onto the beat-up old easychair that sat in front of
his TV. He sat and watched some show about teen moms, and Jake watched him, his
legs aching, cramping in their tied-back position, his arms desperate for
relief, and smiled.
There was something about the fire that he couldn’t help but want.
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